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padding-top: 1px } + + .coverpage, .titlepage, + .contents, .foreword, .preface, .introduction, .dedication, .prologue, + .epilogue, .appendix, .glossary, .bibliography, .index, .colophon, + .footnotes, + .cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 1px } + + .vfill { margin-top: 20% } + h2.title { margin-top: 20% } +} +</style> +<style type="text/css"> +.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; } +.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } +.toc-pageref { float: right } +pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 36022 ***</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 XIV</p> +<p class="center larger pnext">SOUTH CAROLINA NARRATIVES—PART 3</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="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="#adeline-jackson" id="id7">Adeline Jackson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#cordelia-anderson-jackson" id="id8">Cordelia Anderson Jackson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#agnes-james" id="id9">Agnes James</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#fred-james" id="id10">Fred James</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#isiah-jeffries" id="id11">Isiah Jeffries</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#thomas-jefferson" id="id12">Thomas Jefferson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#henry-d-jenkins" id="id13">Henry D. Jenkins</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#maria-jenkins" id="id14">Maria Jenkins</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#paul-jenkins" id="id15">Paul Jenkins</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#emma-jeter" id="id16">Emma Jeter</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#adeline-hall-johnson" id="id17">Adeline Hall Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#anna-johnson" id="id18">Anna Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jack-johnson" id="id19">Jack Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#james-johnson" id="id20">James Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#rev-james-h-johnson" id="id21">Rev. James H. Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jane-johnson" id="id22">Jane Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jimmie-johnson" id="id23">Jimmie Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mary-johnson" id="id24">Mary Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#miemy-johnson" id="id25">Miemy Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#tom-johnson" id="id26">Tom Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#richard-look-up-jones" id="id27">Richard (Look-up) Jones</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#wesley-jones" id="id28">Wesley Jones</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#sallie-layton-keenan" id="id29">Sallie Layton Keenan</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ella-kelly" id="id30">Ella Kelly</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#martha-kelly" id="id31">Martha Kelly</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mary-jane-kelley" id="id32">Mary Jane Kelley</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#gabe-lance" id="id33">Gabe Lance</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ephriam-mike-lawrence" id="id34">Ephriam (Mike) Lawrence</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ben-leitner" id="id35">Ben Leitner</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mary-ann-lipscomb" id="id36">Mary Ann Lipscomb</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#govan-littlejohn" id="id37">Govan Littlejohn</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#easter-lockhart" id="id38">Easter Lockhart</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#gable-locklier" id="id39">Gable Locklier</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#walter-long" id="id40">Walter Long</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#gillam-lowden" id="id41">Gillam Lowden</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#emma-lowran" id="id42">Emma Lowran</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#nellie-loyd" id="id43">Nellie Loyd</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#amie-lumpkin" id="id44">Amie Lumpkin</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ballam-lyles" id="id45">Ballam Lyles</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#eison-lyles" id="id46">Eison Lyles</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#moses-lyles" id="id47">Moses Lyles</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#george-mcalilley" id="id48">George McAlilley</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ed-mccrorey-mack" id="id49">Ed McCrorey (Mack)</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#richard-mack" id="id50">Richard Mack</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jake-mcleod" id="id51">Jake McLeod</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#bill-mcneil" id="id52">Bill McNeil</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#andy-marion" id="id53">Andy Marion</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#milton-marshall" id="id54">Milton Marshall</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#charlie-meadow" id="id55">Charlie Meadow</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#albert-means" id="id56">Albert Means</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#andrew-means" id="id57">Andrew Means</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jason-miller" id="id58">Jason Miller</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#lucinda-miller" id="id59">Lucinda Miller</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#cureton-milling" id="id60">Cureton Milling</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#abbey-mishow" id="id61">Abbey Mishow</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#sam-mitchell" id="id62">Sam Mitchell</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#charity-moore" id="id63">Charity Moore</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#sena-moore" id="id64">Sena Moore</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#silas-nelson" id="id65">Silas Nelson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#susan-nelson" id="id66">Susan Nelson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#william-oliver" id="id67">William Oliver</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#albert-oxner" id="id68">Albert Oxner</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ann-palmer" id="id69">Ann Palmer</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#george-patterson" id="id70">George Patterson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#sallie-paul" id="id71">Sallie Paul</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#lina-anne-pendergrass" id="id72">Lina Anne Pendergrass</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#amy-perry" id="id73">Amy Perry</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#rob-perry" id="id74">Rob Perry</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#victoria-perry" id="id75">Victoria Perry</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#john-petty" id="id76">John Petty</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#sarah-poindexter" id="id77">Sarah Poindexter</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#sam-polite" id="id78">Sam Polite</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#william-pratt" id="id79">William Pratt</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#henry-pristell" id="id80">Henry Pristell</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#junius-quattlebaum" id="id81">Junius Quattlebaum</a></span></li> +</ul> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="adeline-jackson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id7">Adeline Jackson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Adeline Jackson, 88 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was born four miles southwest of where I is now, on de other side of +Woodward Station. I was a slave of old Marster John Mobley, de richest +man, de larges' land owner, and wid more niggers than any other white +man in de county. He was de seventh son of de seventh son, so he +allowed, and you knows dat's a sign of a big family, lots of cows, +mules, horses, money, chillun and everything dat's worth havin'. He had +a good wife too; dis de way he got her, he say. She de daughter of old +Maj. Andy McLean, who got a body full of bullets in de Revolution; he +didn't want Katie to marry Marster John. Marster John git on a mule and +ride up in de night. Miss Katie runned out, jump up behin' him, run away +and marry Marster John. They had de same birthday, March 27th, but +Marster John two years older than Miss Katie. Dat day was looked to, +same as Christmas, every year dat come. Big times then, I tell you!</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mistress had long hair, techin' de floor and could dance, so Marster +John said, wid a glass of water on top of her head. Marster John got +'ligion and went all de way lak de jailer in de Bible. All de house +jined wid him and mos' of de slaves. It was Baptist and he built a +spankin' good church buildin' down de road, all out of his own money, +and de cemetery dere yet. He called it 'Fellowship.' Some fine +tombstones in dere yet. De finest cost two thousand dollars, dat's his +daughter Nancy's tomb. Marster John and my old mistress buried in dere.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When my younges' mistress, name Marion Rebecca, married her second +cousin, Marster Edward P. Mobley, I was give to her and went wid them to +de June place. It was called dat because old Doctor June built it and +sold it to Marster Ed. I nussed her first chillun: Edward, Moses Hill, +John and Katie. It was a large, two-story frame house, with chimneys at +each gable end. Marster Edward got to be as rich as old marster; he +owned de June place, de Rochelle plantation, de Peay place and de +Roebuck place. Yes sir, course us had overseers for so many slaves and +plantations. I 'member Mr. Oze Brown, Mr. Neely and Mr. Tim Gladney. In +course of time I was took off de nussin' and put to de field. I drapped +cotton seed, hoed some, and picked cotton.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't 'member no poor buckra, outside de overeeers, 'cept a Mr. Reed +dat lived down on wateroe, passin' our house sometime. He was a +Godforsaken lookin' man dat marster or mistress always give somethin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our neighbors was de Pearys, de Durhams, de Picketts, de Barbers and +Boulwares. Doctor Henry Gibson was our doctor. All dese folks kep' a +pack of hounds to run deer and foxes. Yes, I has eat many pieces of +deer. Good? I wouldn't fool you, taste it and you'll hunger for it ever +afterward.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes sir, at certain times we worked long and hard, and you had to be +'ticular. De only whipping I got was for chopping down a good corn stalk +near a stump in a new ground. Marster never sold a slave but swaps were +made wid kin people to advantage, slaves' wives and husbands sometimes. +I never learned to read or write. I went to White Poplar Springs Church, +de Baptist church my mistress 'tended. De preacher was Mr. Cartledge. He +allowed Miss Marion was de flower of his flock.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slaves lived in quarters, a stretch of small houses off from de White +House. Patrollers often come to search for stray slaves; wouldn't take +your word for it. They would search de house. If they ketch one widout +a pass, they whipped him. We got most our outside news Sunday at +church. When farm work was not pressing, we got all of Saturday to clean +up 'round de houses, and wash and iron our clothes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Everything lively at Christmas time, dances wid fiddles, pattin' and +stick rattlin', but when I jined de church, I quit dancin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After de war, a man came along on a red horse; he was dressed in a blue +uniform and told us we was free. De Yankees dat I 'members was not +gentlefolks. They stole everything they could take and de meanest thing +I ever see was shoats they half killed, cut off de hams, and left de +other parts quiverin' on de ground.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married Mose Jackson, after freedom, and had a boy, Henry. Last I +heard, he was at Shelby, North Carolina. We had a daughter, Mary, she +married Eph Brown. She had ten chillun, many gran' chillun, they's my +great-gran' chillun. My mistress was a good Christian woman, she give me +a big supper when I was married. Her house, durin' de war, always had +some sick or wounded soldier. I 'member her brother, Zed, come home wid +a leg gone. Her cousin, Theodore, was dere wid a part of his jaw gone. +My mistress could play de piano and sing de old songs. I 'members +Marster Theodore had trouble wid de words. Dere was a song called +'Jaunita', 'bout a fountain. Marster Theodore would try hard, but would +say, everytime, 'Jawneeta', and de folks would laugh but mistress never +would crack a smile but just go on wid another song. I thinks everybody +should jine de church and then live right. Have prayers in de family +befo' gitting in de bed. It would have good change, 'specially in de +towns I thinks.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, women in family way worked up to near de time, but guess Doctor +Gibson knowed his business. Just befo' de time, they was took out and +put in de cardin' and spinnin' rooms.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, I see folks put irons in de fire and some throw a big chunk of +fire into de yard to make de screech owl stop his scary sounds.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Befo' I forgits, Marster Edward bought a slave in Tennessee just +'cause he could play de fiddle. Named him 'Tennessee Ike' and he played +'long wid Ben Murray, another fiddler. Sometime all of us would be called +up into de front yard to play and dance and sing for Miss Marion, de chillun +and visitors. I was much happier them days than now. Maybe it won't be +so bad when I gits my old age pension."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="cordelia-anderson-jackson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id8">Cordelia Anderson Jackson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Cordelia Anderson Jackson, 78 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">157 Kings St. Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Cordelia lives in a small shack with some friends. She is quite an actor +and a tireless teller of yarns. She still ties her head up in a white +rag and has large eyes set far apart and a very flat nose. She is ebony +colored. She is a firm believer in her religion and she enjoys shouting +on any occasion for joy or for sorrow.</p> +<p class="pnext">"White folks tells stories 'bout 'ligion. Dey tells stories 'bout it +kaise dey's 'fraid of it. I stays independent of what white folks tells +me when I shouts. De Spirit moves me every day, dat's how I stays in. +White folks don't feel sech as I does; so dey stays out. Can't serve God +all de time; allus something getting in de way. Dey tries me and den I +suddenly draps back to serving de Holy God. Never does it make no +difference how I's tossed about. Jesus, He comes and saves me everytime. +I's had a hard time, but I's blessed now—no mo' mountains.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ever since I a child I is liked white folks. Dey's good and dey does +not know why dey tells stories 'bout Jesus. I got a heap mo' in slavery +dan I does now; was sorry when Freedom got here. I 'specks I is nigh to +a hundred, but dat's so old. I jest calls myself any whars twixt +seventy-five and a hundred. I recollects slavery, though. Ma was +Charlotte Anderson and she lived in Union County wid de Tuckers, jest +across from de Richards Quarter.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Biggest sight I ever see'd was dat balloon when it come down on Pea +Ridge. De man in it everybody addressed as Professor (Prof. Lowe—1861). +He let uncle Jerry git in it. Mr. McKissick helped uncle Jerry up in it. +It was de first balloon ever come to Union county, and 'til dis day I +don't like no balloons.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Airplanes jest tickles, I cannot tell you how come, but dey jest does. +I went out dar (throwing her arm in the direction of the landing field) +and see'd 'em light. Dressed-up white folks hopped down out'n it from a +little do' dat a man wid leg'uns and a cap on opened. Thing gwine on wid +lots of burring and all like dat. When dem folks got out, some mo' +clam'ned in. Dat same man opened de do', shot (shut) it, and de plane +tuck off. White folks 'lowed dat it was gwine to 'lanta, Ga.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Right dar I 'low'd, when I goes up like dat, I sho ain't gwine up wid +no man—I'se gwine up wid Jesus.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat white woman [HW: Amelia Earhardt] went up and ain't nobody found +her yet and it been two months. Lawd, she looking fer de world's end. +God don't mean fer womens to do nothing like dat. Womens is stumbling +blocks at times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I got a boy dat been through school. He stays off, but he treats me so +good and talks to me like white folks does; so I calls him, 'white +child'. I 'longs to de church club. He tries to larn me to talk proper +when I goes out to dem meetings, but I fergits how befo' I reaches de +meeting. Us named it de 'Mothers' Club'. 'White child' pays fer me to +'long dar, and when I is down wid spells, dey nurses me. 'White child' +pays fer my 'onsurance' so dat I does not have no worriment to aggravate +my soul.</p> +<p class="pnext">"White child birthed one Sunday morning jest a year atter de big +earthquake. It was also Christmas morning, kaise my child drapped a year +to de day atter dat earthquake and I feared dat he was not gwinter have +no sense. But My God, how he can read!</p> +<p class="pnext">"One night, Aug. 30th, our house started rocking. We thought a panther +was a-rocking it, kaise my old man had see'd one. He run out wid a gun +and went to de wood pile; den he hollered to me and said, 'Delia, come +out here, de whole world is shaking'. God sho showed his power dat +night. Ever since dat I been fixed wid God. It won't long atter dat, us +heard a noise in our other room. Old man went in dar and see'd a panther +climbing up fer our rations. He grabbed his gun from over de do' and +shot dat panther in de corner.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I used to think dat niggers was fools dat called me a nigger. I go and +tell Miss Nellie Tucker. She 'low, 'No, you ain't no nigger when other +niggers calls you one.' Marse William whistle like a partridge; den Miss +Nellie play her pianny. I dance and Marse send fer me a sugar and butter +biscuit. Marse git his banjo and he pick it fer me to sing 'Oh, Bob +white, is your wheat ripe? No, no, not quite.' Dat when I lived as a +little gal on Marse William's home tract, called Musgrove Tract.</p> +<p class="pnext">VISION: "Was traveling in a gold chariot to Heaven. De overseer had come +to bleed me, but I went up. Something say to look back and see whar you +been. I looked back and said, 'Lawd, take me whar no rent won't bother +me!' Lawd answer, 'Do not pray dat way. Pray fer Him to do His will'. +Den I axed de Lawd whar is I. He say, 'Did you look down on dem +chimneys?' Den I see'd dat I was in de chariot wid water all under me. +It looked like de sky.</p> +<p class="pnext">"To-day, I am so glad to walk about in Jesus' care. I wish people could +see my faith. I am a Christian."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="agnes-james"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id9">Agnes James</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mom Agnes James, 80 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Claussens, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Annie Ruth Davis</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Yes'um, I used to live in slavery time, but de Lord above know, I sho +don' really recollect nothin much to tell you 'bout slavery time. I don' +know exactly how old I is. Think I 'bout 80 some odd. Think dat 'bout de +age Bubba Gregg say I is. I tell you, I was so chillunfied in slavery +time, I ain' had no time to study 'bout no age. I say, I was so +chillunfied. Yes'um, dat it. Dat somethin dat I ought to had ax my +grandmammy 'bout how old I is, so den I might could call it up to you +right sharp. Oh, I wishes now I had ax my grandmammy dat word fore she +die.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us belong to Mr. Hector Cameron fore freedom come here. Right down dere +to Salem Church, dat whe' I was born. You hear talk of Miss Janie Little +over dere to Marion, ain' you? Dat who used to be my mittie in dem days. +Yes, mam, boss had pick me out to tend to Miss Janie. You see, he give +all his daughters one of us to have a care for dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My white folks, dey had a right smart of colored people dey own en far +as I can reckon, dey been spend mighty good treatment to dem all de +time. I know 'bout old Miss used to love to feed us, my mercy! White +folks would send for all us chillun to go up to de big house en get +somethin to eat twixt meals. Yes'um, dey had a colored people quarter +dat been settin way back up on de hill. Had to have a quarter 'cause dat +whe' us been stay all de time old Miss won' stuffin' somethin down we +mouth. I remember, dere used to was de most pretty flowers in de lane +gwine through dem woods from us house right up to old Massa's yard en my +Lord, honey, I did love to be de first one long dere on a mornin to see +could I find a blossom to fetch to old Miss. Look like old Miss would be +so please to see my granny marchin all we chillun up dat path 'cause when +we would go dere on a mornin, she would set right down on de steps en +talk wid us. Would set dere in listen to see could all us say dat prayin +blessin she had learned us to speak fore she would hand us anything to +eat. Den she would give us everyone a spoonful of dis here worm cure. +Great Jerusalem! Miss would make dat herself out dese black lookin seed +mixed up in molasses. I remember, she would bring a big bowl of dat out +dere en would make Pickle tote it round for her while she put it in us +mouth. Yes, mam, Miss would give us all a spoonful of dat every mornin +en den she would ax us de next mornin if any us had any worms. No, mam, +she never didn' give us any other kind of medicine as I can remember. +Just give us dat en den feed us some milk en bread. Dat all she give us, +but I tell you, I was as proud of dat milk en bread as I is of de +rations I get dese days 'cause I never know no different den. No'um, +didn' nobody eat den like dey do now. All de people would make dey own +gardens in dem days en would fix soup en fry meat. I used to been so +glad to get me a 'tatoe en a piece of bread. I thought I was eatin +cake.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never didn' work in no field or nothin like dat no time. When I was a +little small girl, I would stay dere home en play 'bout de yard en nurse +my mammy's baby while she was workin in de field. Yes'um, old Massa +would give her task to pick cotton en hoe cotton en pick peas or +somethin another like dat 'bout all de time. Don' know whe' she work all +day or no, but I know she would always let up at 12 o'clock en come to +de house to get her somethin to eat. Can remember dat good as anything. +Oh, she would have to cook herself when she come home bein' dere wasn' +none of we chillun big enough to cook nothin. I recollects, I used to +get chips en pile dem up for her 'cause she always been tell me, if de +baby go to sleep, to get up some chips en put dem on de steps for her to +hurry en start fire wid. She would cook us meat en bread like corn +hoecake en fry meat de most of de time. Den another time, she would bake +a big round loaf like dat en break it in two en give me half en my +brother Charlie de other part. Would lay a piece of meat on de top of +it. No'um, I reckon 'bout all de people used to cook in de chimney. I +know my mammy used to cook in de chimney en I don' think she thought +nothin 'bout no stove in dem days. Cose if she did, I know we chillun +didn' get it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, Lord, I been married 'bout 16 years fore my husband died. Yes'um, I +had a tolerable good size weddin over dere to Mr. Elija Gregg's house. +Been married in a white dress trimmed wid blue ribbon. You is hear talk +of a cream of tartar dress, ain' you? Oh, my Lord of mercy, dere was a +crowd of people dere dat night to get dey eye full en deyself full, too, +I say. Yes'um, I had four waiters in my ceremony. En had cake en rice en +'tatoe custard en a yearlin pig wid a red apple stuck in he mouth, so +dey tell me. Dat what was for de refreshments. De old man Charles +Reynolds, he was de preacher dere dat night en, say, he eat so much pig +till you could see pig in he face, so dey tell me. Cose I never had no +mind to know nothin 'bout it. Oh, yes Lord, I got seven chillun dat come +here fore my old man die, but dey all done gone en get married en left +me by myself. Dat how-come I stays over here wid Miss Bertie 'cause she +ain' have nobody to stay wid her neither en I tries to help her out +somehow. Yes'um, me en Miss Bertie does rest right well together, I say.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, great jumpin mercy, de shake! I sho knows all 'bout dat 'cause I was +stayin right up dere to old man Elija Gregg's place den. I tellin you, +it was a time, honey. I was gwine down side de road to prayer meetin dat +night wid my baby in my arms en dere come such a roarin' en a rockin' in +de elements till I thought my baby had got out my arms en I was just a +hollerin for somebody to come en help me get my baby back. Been so crazy +dat I was lookin in all de ditches for my baby. My husband, he come a +runnin to see what ailed me en say, 'Agnes, what de matter wid you?' I +say, 'My baby lost. Do Lord, whe' my baby gone?' He say, 'Agnes, you +must be ailin in de head. Dere de baby on your arm.' Yes'um, I was crazy +'cause I had my baby in my arms en didn' know it. Oh, de people done a +piece of hollerin dat night. Everybody was a hollerin en a prayin. I +hear talk three or four of dem got converted in de spirit dat night. I +tellin you, it been a long time fore I got over dat thing, too, 'cause I +was scared most to death.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'um, I never didn' believe in nothin like dat. Never didn' believe in +no conjurin. Don' care what dey say 'bout it, I never didn' believe in +it. Yes'um, I hear people talk 'bout somebody had hurt dem, but dey make +a wrong mistake to say somebody do somethin to dem. Ain' nobody but de +Lord do nothin, I say. I know dere ain' nobody never do nothin to me. +Hear people say dey wear money round dey ankle to keep folks from hurtin +dem, but ain' nobody never bother me, I tell dem. If dey live right, +ain' nobody gwine trouble dem neither. No, Lord, ain' nobody never speak +no harm word to me en I ain' got no mind to harness up myself.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, it just seems like de world growin wilder for de young folks. Dey +don' never think 'bout nothin 'cept gwine right head first all de time. I +know when I been comin up, I never see no such livin like de people +makin dese days. Dey just gwine head over heels to de worser. Don' never +think near a day dey got to stop some of dese days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I tell de truth, it ain' make no difference which time I think de best +time to live in. Everything went well en good wid me in de old days en +everything still gwine dat way, Thank de Lord, too."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="fred-james"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id10">Fred James</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Fred James (81)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C. RFD</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Yes, I 'member slavery time and de war. I was about 7 or 8 years old. I +belonged to Marse Tom Price. My father, John James, belonged to Madison +Brooks and my mammy belonged to Tom Price. When dey married dey lived +wid Madison Brooks awhile, but dey was wid Tom Price when I was a boy.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Of cose I 'member de war. Us chaps, both niggers and white, was made to +go up-stairs in de big house and look out de window to see de soldiers +when dey come. We heard de Yankees marching befo' dey got dar, but dey +come from de other side of de house, facing south towards Caldwells, and +we didn't see dem marching in. Dey stopped at our house and looked +around and asked if marster was at home. We told him dat he wasn't dar. +We was eating apples, and dey asked us whar we got 'em. We told dem dat +we got de apples on de place, and dey asked us for some. We give dem +some apples; den dey left. Marse had carried his fine stock about a mile +off in de woods so de soldiers couldn't find dem; but we didn't tell de +soldiers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We lived in a little log cabin made wid mud between de logs, dat was de +kind of houses Marse had for his slaves. We slept on wood beds wid ropes +stretched tight across in place of slats. Dis held our straw mattress.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My father's daddy come from Africa. His name was Emmanuel James. Atter +freedom come he give me a little yearling. We wasn't allowed to have +anything befo' freedom come; and we wasn't allowed to learn to read and +write. Dey whipped us if dey caught us wid a book trying to read or +write. Ma said dey cut off a hand if dey caught you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We raised hogs, sheep, goats, cows and plenty chickens; raised +everything at home, and had a good garden with plenty vegetables. Dem +cows and hogs and other cattle were branded and allowed to graze around +in bottoms of de lowlands whar dar was no fence.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My clothes was made from yarn spun by my mammy, and she made my +clothes, too. Marse had my mammy to spin and weave for all de slaves on +de place. But marse and mistress was good to us. He had a nigger +overseer who sometimes brought a nigger to marse when he misbehaved; den +marse would have de nigger overseer to whip him. He had 8 to 10 slaves +all de time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some slaves dat lived on places close to us would run off sometimes and +hide in de woods, and live dar in a den which dey dug. At night they +would go out and hunt food, like hogs; den kill 'em at night and dress +'em. Most of de day dey would stay in de den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'member when freedom come, old marse said, 'You is all free, but you +can work on and make dis crop of corn and cotton; den I will divide up +wid you when Christmas comes.' Dey all worked, and when Christmas come, +marse told us we could get on and shuffle for ourselves, and he didn't +give us anything. We had to steal corn out of de crib. We prized de ears +out between de cracks and took dem home and parched dem. We would have +to eat on dese for several days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We had to work, all day, sun up to dark, and never had Saturday +afternoons off anytime. My mammy had to wash clothes on Saturday nights +for us to wear on Sundays.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We chaps played marbles most all de time. Marse used to try to scare us +by telling us dar was spooks. Some of de old folks did believe in +spooks, but I don't know much about dem. We never used much medicine den +but quinine. Folks had lots of chills den, but dey never had any kind of +strokes or things like dat as dey do dese days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We had to get a pass from marse if we went out. If de patrollers caught +us widout a pass dey would whip us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Right atter de war de Ku Klux started. I 'member dem when dey would +march up and down de road. Dey marched most at night, and we could hear +de horses for a long distance as deir feet struck de ground.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married Nellie Wilson, and had 12 children. I got now 6 children; my +wife is dead. I got five grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I think Abraham Lincoln and Jeff Davis was good men in deir way, as dey +thought. Booker T. Washington is a great man, and he is done lots of +good for de niggers. I think slavery was good in some ways and bad in +others. I was better off den dan I am now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I jined de church when I was 20 years old, because it was de law—to +trust in de Lawd, you got to belong to de church.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I member something 'bout 40 acres of land and a mule dat de slaves +would get, but never come anything about it. When freedom come most of +de slaves hired out as wage hands, cutting wood and working on farms or +any odd jobs dey could get. Dar was lots of new ground, and many of de +niggers got work clearing it up.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We didn't get any money in slavery time, but got plenty to eat; and +atter de war, we got a little money and a little to eat. I 'member dat +old Mr. Brown hired me out once about 45 years ago at 30¢ a day and my +meals. I think de younger generation ain't so good. Dey have deir own +way and don't respect old folks. Dat's de way it is wid both whites and +blacks."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="isiah-jeffries"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id11">Isiah Jeffries</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Isiah Jefferies, (age 86)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Gaffney, S.C. Rt. 6.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I is what is known as a outside child. My Ma went to Hamlet. I lived on +de Jefferies plantation, below Wilkinsville in Cherokee County. My +father was Henry Jefferies. My mother was Jane Jefferies. My mother's +husband was named Ned. Before her marriage she was a Davis. She was sold +in slavery to Henry Jefferies. I allus lived with my mother, and Ned was +as good to me as he was to his own chillun. My mother had three outside +chilluns, and we each had a different father. Atter she married Ned; den +he jest come to be our Pa, dat is he let her give us his name. She and +Ned had four chillun.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My first wife is dead and my second wife is named Alice Jefferies. I +got one child by my first wife, and I ain't got no outside chilluns. Dat +works out bad, at best. None of my folks is living. All of dem is done +dead now; jest me, my wife and my sister's daughter, Emma, who is grown +now. Her Pa and her Ma took and went crazy befo' dey died. Both of dem +died in de asylum. We took Emma, and she ain't jest 'zactly right; but +she ain't no bother to us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"First thing I had to do as a child was to mind my Ma's other chilluns +as I was de first outside one dat she had. Dis I did until I was about +twelve years old. My Ma and Ned was working one day and I was minding +her chilluns as usual when I looked up and seed de top of our house on +fire. I hollered and dey come running from de field. De other hands come +with dem kaise I made such a noise hollering. Soon de big folks got de +fire out. Atter dat, Marse Henry had me to leave de house and go to work +fer him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It was spring and I started in chopping cotton. 'Peers dat I got on +pretty well, and dat de overseer liked me from de start. From dar on I +was broke into field work of all kinds and den I did work around de lot +as well. It was not long befo' everybody started calling me 'uncle +Zery', why—I did not know; but anyway dat name still sticks to me by +dem dat knows me well. My grandpa never called me dat, kaise I was named +atter him, and he too proud of dat fact to call me any nickname. I +stayed wid him at his house lots atter I started working fer de marster, +kaise he showed me how to do things. I worked fer him to git my first +money and he would give me a quarter fer a whole day's work. Dat made me +feel good and I thought I was a man kaise I made a quarter. In dem days +a quarter was a lot of money. I spent it fer chawing tobacco, and dat +made me sick at first. Dats all men had to spend money fer in dem days. +Everything was give you on de plantation and you did not need much +money. Sometimes we cooked out in de field and I have cooked bread in de +field in a lid.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ma teached me how to cook befo' I was twelve years old. We had good +things to eat den; more dan my chilluns has dese times. All de slaves +had dere gardens on my marster's plantation. He made dem do it, and dey +liked it. Niggers do not seem to take no pains wid gardens now. Land +ain't soft and mellow like it used to be. In cold weather we had to bank +out 'taters, rutabegas, beets, carrots and pumpkins. De pumpkins and +carrots was fer de hogs and cows.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In warm weather we had cotton clothes and in cold weather we had woolen +clothes dat our marster had made fer us by de old ladies on de +plantation. But we did go barefooted all winter until we was grown and +married. We had all de wood we wanted fer fire. We kept fire all day +and all night. We sot by de fire in winter and popped corn, parched +pinders [HW: peanuts] and roasted corn ears.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marster and Mistress had six chilluns. Her name was Ellen and her house +was three stories high. Dere overseers allus lived wid dem. Dere was a +lot of slaves and dey all loved de white folks. De whole plantation was +allus up at sunup. But we did not work very late. I remember de +Patter-rollers, de Ku Klux and de Yankees. Niggers dreaded all three. +Dere was no jail fer us; de Patter-rollers kept us straight.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I got to be a big boy, my Ma got religion at de Camp meeting at +El-Bethel. She shouted and sung fer three days, going all over de +plantation and de neighboring ones, inviting her friends to come to see +her baptized and shouting and praying fer dem. She went around to all de +people dat she had done wrong and begged dere forgiveness. She sent fer +dem dat had wronged her, and told dem dat she was born again and a new +woman, and dat she would forgive dem. She wanted everybody dat was not +saved to go up wid her.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De white folks was baptized in de pool first, and den dere darkies. +When de darkies time come, dey sung and shouted so loud dat de +Patter-rollers come from somewhar, but Marster and Missus made dem go +away and let us shout and rejoice to de fullest. Missus had all her +darkies to wear white calico in de pool dat was a-gwine in fer +baptizing. In de sewing-room she had calico robes made fer +everybody. My Ma took me wid her to see her baptized, and I was so happy +dat I sung and shouted wid her. All de niggers jined in singing. De +white folks stayed and saw us baptize our folks, and dey liked our +singing."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="thomas-jefferson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id12">Thomas Jefferson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Thomas Jefferson, 102 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Shiloh Church, Highway 29</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ellie S. Rice, Anderson, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">It is not often that a person 102 years old is seen doing manual labor, +and especially as hard a job as picking cotton. Yet that is just what +Thomas Jefferson was doing, who, as he himself stated, is, "102 years +and 18 days old today." Asked why he was doing this, he replied, "Just +to take a little exercise."</p> +<p class="pnext">Thomas lives with his daughter, Florence Humphreys, on a small farm, out +near Shiloh Church, on Highway 29. Until recently, he slept in a little +shack nearby, taking his meals with his daughter. He is too feeble to +live alone now, however.</p> +<p class="pnext">Thomas Jefferson was born on the farm of Mr. Jenkins Hammond, on the old +Hammond place, out on the Williamston road, on November 1, 1834. When +Mr. Hammond's daughter, Mary Amanda Pauline, married Elias John Earle, +son of Samuel Girard Earle, who was one of the very first citizens of +Anderson county, Mr. Hammond gave her, as a wedding gift, Thomas +Jefferson's mother and five children, of which Thomas was one. And here +he lived with the Earles on "Evergreen" plantation, for many, many +years.</p> +<p class="pnext">During the War Between the States, Mr. Earle operated a corn and flour +mill, and Thomas Jefferson was his miller. Asked if he remembered this, +he replied, "Well, I do remember it. I remember one time we worked all +night Saturday night, all day Sunday and Sunday night, and Monday +morning had ten barrels of flour to send the Confederate army."</p> +<p class="pnext">Shiloh (Baptist) Church, nearby, Thomas said, was being constructed at +the time the war started, and was not finished until after the war was +over. The first person buried in the Shiloh graveyard was Elijah +Herring, who was in the Confederate army and became ill and died, and +was brought home to be buried.</p> +<p class="pnext">When Samuel Girard Earle died in 1848, and his wife in 1865, they were +buried under a large apple tree at "Evergreen" plantation. Later, their +bodies were removed to the Shiloh graveyard, by their grand-daughter, +Miss Betty Earle. Thomas says he helped to move and rebury the bodies.</p> +<p class="pnext">Thomas was at one time a member of Shiloh, but is now a member of the +Mt. Sinai colored church.</p> +<p class="pnext">Thomas is remarkably well for a person one hundred and two years old. +His eyes are dim, his steps tottering, but his hearing is good and his +mind is as clear as it ever was. Asked about his appetite, he said, "I +eat anything I can get, I can eat anything." Many people much younger +than he is, and certainly with more money than he has, would envy him +for his splendid digestion.</p> +<p class="pnext">Thomas has been on the relief rolls now for several years. It is a +peculiar pleasure for Mrs. A.M. Mitchell, County Director of Temporary +State Department of Public Welfare, to look after Thomas personally, +because her grandmother was the bride to whom he was given, with his +mother and brothers and sisters. The old man eagerly anticipates Mrs. +Mitchell's coming each month, to bring his check and to look after his +comfort. He is very humble and exceedingly grateful for everything done +for him, and says he is expecting to live many more years, with the good +care he is getting.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="henry-d-jenkins"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id13">Henry D. Jenkins</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Henry D. Jenkins, 87 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Henry D. Jenkins lives in a four-room frame house, which he owns. +His wife, two single daughters, his son and his son's wife and three +small children live with him. The house is constructed on a tract of +land containing four hundred and eighty (480) acres, which Henry also +owns.</p> +<p class="pnext">He does not suffer with an inferiority complex. He is self-reliant and +thrifty, with a pardonable pride in his farm and his rise from slavery +to a position of respectibility as a church member, citizen, and tax +payer. He is well preserved physically, for his age, 87 years, alert in +his movements and animated in conversation.</p> +<p class="pnext">His plantation and home is in the south western part of Fairfield +County, six or seven hundred yards east of State highway #215.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes sir, tho' I am a 'spectable colored citizen, as you see me; I pays +taxes and owns my own plantation. I was once a slave on de Reese place, +in Sumter County, below Columbia. Just when I come to b'long to Mr. +Joseph Howell, I don't know. I recollects dat Marse Joe had 'bout twenty +families of slaves and dere was six hundred acres in his plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mistress was his wife, Miss Sara. They had four chillun. Miss +Mattie, married Oscar Chappell. Johnnie, married a Miss Lever. Thomas, +married some lady in Columbia, disremember de fam'ly name. Miss Jessie, +married Rev. Huggins, a Baptist preacher, though her folks wasn't of dat +'suasion; they was Methodist. Us niggers was 'structed early in 'ligion. +Took to Cedar Creek and camp meetin'. My white folks had a fine +carriage. A mulatto boy, Adam, was de driver. Sometime I'd go wid him +to meet visitors from de low country at de station, and look after de +baggage and sich.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes sir, I doesn't deny it, I got many whuppins. Dere's not much to a +boy, white or black, dat don't need a whuppin' sometime on de way up. +When you break a wild spirited colt, they make de best hoss or mule. I +can do more work today, than most of dese triflin', cigaret young mens. +You sees me today, as straight as a arrow and like a wild cat on my +foots.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You bet yo' life, my white folks was de bestest in de land. They wasn't +mealy mouthed; they made everybody work, sun to sun, seven days in de +week. But didn't de good Lord set de 'zample? Yes sir, he made us all +work, women in de perils of child birth, drapped cotton seed and corn +kernels. Dr. Turnipseed, dat was our doctor, 'low dat light labor lak +dat good for them.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Farm hands got a peck of meal, three pounds bacon, quart of 'lasses, +cup of salt, and two cups middlin' flour, no white flour. Had good warm +clothes in winter, one-piece cotton suit in summer, and de little +niggers went dressed in deir shirt tails from fust of June, to fust of +October. They sho' did, and was as happy over it as de day was long.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother named Emma. Never married to my daddy, 'cause they didn't +live on de same place and b'long to same master. Daddy b'long to de +Halls. I have a brother by dis same mammy. Daddy go by de name of +Dinkins. He took up wid another woman after freedom, and my brother and +me was 'shame of him. Us 'cided to take Jenkins for our name but keep a +'D' in de middle, so if anything come up, de 'D' could 'cite 'membrance +of who us really is. You see what I mean?</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our shoes for de winter was made on de place, out of leather from our +own tan-yard and from our own cow hides. Marster had a good fish pond. +He had a four-hoss gin, though mules pulled it. De lint cotton was +packed in a bale and a screw pit. Baggin' was any old thing, like old +sacks or canvas sheetin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother jined de Baptis' church, and I followed in her foot steps. +Everybody ought to b'long to some church, 'cause it's 'spectable, and +membership in de church is both a fire and a life insurance. It 'sures +you 'ginst hell fire, and gives you at death, an eternal estate in +Hebben. What you laughin' at? It's de gospel truth I'm givin' you right +now. Wish everybody could hear it and believe it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My marster, Joe Howell, went off to de old war. His niggers was so well +trained, dat they carried on for him whilst he was gone and dere was no +trouble. Everything went on just de same as if he was dere.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Pat-a-rollers (patrollers) would come often and ketch niggers sometime; +caught my daddy once and whup him good. Ours was a fine body of slaves +and loyal to de mistress and her chillun.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dances? Yes sir, I can hear them fiddles and de pattin' now. Dis de way +de dance was called: 'Balance all; sashshay to your partners; swing her +'round and promenade all; forward on de head; ladies change;' and all +dat. Then de jigs went on. Believe me, them was times!</p> +<p class="pnext">"The main drawback on Marster Joe's plantation was, de water on de place +was no 'count. Us had to haul water on a sled, wid a mule, from de +Friday place; dat's de onliest trouble us had. Sometime us had to tie up +fodder and 'tend to de hay in de field on Sunday.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married fust a girl name Sarah, in 1878. Got three chillun by her. +She died. Not good for a man to live alone, de Lord say. I picked out +another Sarah, but called her Sallie. Us has had nine chillun. Three of +dese [TR: are] Sailor, Tera, and Monroe. Monroe lives on my place and +farms 'long side of me. Sam is in Detroit, Michigan; Henry in +Flurida (Florida).</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de Yankees come, what they do? They did them things they ought not +to have done and they left undone de things they ought to have done. +Yes, dat just 'bout tells it. One thing you might like to hear. Mistress +got all de money, de silver, de gold and de jewels, and got de well +digger to hide them in de bottom of de well. Them Yankees smart. When +they got dere, they asked for de ve'y things at de bottom of de well. +Mistress wouldn't tell. They held a court of 'quiry in de yard; called +slaves up, one by one, good many. Must have been a Judas 'mongst us. +Soon a Yankee was let down in de well, and all dat money, silver, gold, +jewelry, watches, rings, brooches, knives and forks, butter-dishes, +waters, goblets, and cups was took and carried 'way by a army dat seemed +more concerned 'bout stealin', than they was 'bout de Holy War for de +liberation of de poor African slave people. They took off all de hosses, +sheeps, cows, chickens, and geese, took de seine and de fishes they +caught, corn in crib, meat in smoke house, and everything. Marse General +Sherman said war was hell. It sho' was. Mebbe it was hell for some of +them Yankees when they come to die and give account of de deeds they +done in Sumter and Richland Counties."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="maria-jenkins"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id14">Maria Jenkins</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Maria Jenkins, about 90 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">64 Montague Street, Charleston, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Martha S. Pinckney, Charleston, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Maria Jenkins, who is about ninety, is very nearly blind, and only by +quiet persistence can she be made to hear; once started, her mind is +clear. She shows no bitterness. Occasionally there are flashes of humor. +Her body is brawny, sturdy and well carried, considering her age.</p> +<p class="pnext">Maria Jenkins was a daughter of Aaron Grant; her mother's name is Ellen +Grant, all of whom were owned by Mr. Hugh Wilson of Wadmalaw Island.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I b'long Wadmalaw. When de Yankee come I ole 'nuf for mind chillun, and +take um to de field. I go up to Maussa' house ebery day for de milk for +we; and dey give we clabba (clabber) and cow peas and ting out de +garden. We git ebery evening a bushel ob corn grind and hand ober to de +nurse, and him sift out de flour. Yes Mam. He done grind in de hand mill +in de barn yard—de stone mill. Dat been uh big mill too. And dey gib we +uh big piece ob meat—so—(measuring with hands) and sometime chicken. +Rachel cook in de big pot for we chillun, and he dip um out. (She here +explained the big ladle or dipper.) You know dem big ladle. We put um in +we pan. Yes, Ma'am, he name Rachel, and he lick we. We haffa love um or +she lick we." Her huge mouth was illumined by a humorous smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">"He teach me to wash de baby clean and put on he dipa (diaper), and if I +ain't do um good he konk my head. When de wah come, my pa put heself +free off to New Orleans; I dunno how he look. I dunno if he libbin or +dead now. My ma dead fust year ob de wah, I hab twelve chillun, and all +dead; I got two grand chillun left—de one in New York—I raise him from +baby atter he ma and pa dead."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Your grand son helps you?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wat dat?", leaning forward with her hand back of her ear. The question +was repeated.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Him ain't no man, him my grand daughter, Ellen Jenkins. I raise him +from baby yes, she name Ellen. Him good to me; him help me ebery +minute."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Are all your people dead?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"De whole nation dead," reflectively, "De whole nation dead—Peggy +dead—Toby dead—all leaning on de Lord."</p> +<p class="pnext">"When dem boat come up de ribber, and he shoot, and shoot, de big gun, +dat been de awful time. My ma dead de fust year ob de wah—I dunno if +dem big gun kill um. He kill 'nuf people.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Maussa come and he say: 'Who-na (all of you) nigger take care ob +yourself, I must leab to take my fambly away. Will is here; and de cow, +and de pig in de pen, and de chicken all ober de place—I gib you your +freedom for take care ob yourself.' W'en he gone, dem nigger break for +the thick woods. Some dead and some ain't dead."</p> +<p class="pnext">Later a camp was established for this plantation of Negroes, back in the +pine woods. When asked what they did after the war, Maria raised her +hands and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"After de wah we all come home, tank de Lord! tank de Lord!"</p> +<p class="pnext">"But your master didn't have any money to care for you."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Haffa scrabble for yo'self." Said she.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="paul-jenkins"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id15">Paul Jenkins</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Paul Jenkins, 70 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">18 Belser's Alley, Columbia, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Stiles M. Scruggs, Columbia, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SON OF A SLAVE TELLS OF HIS FATHER'S POLITICAL EXPERIENCES</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Paul Jenkins, age seventy, living at 18 Belser's Alley, Columbia, S.C., +is a son of Paul Jenkins, a former slave, who decided to endure the +burdens he had in Colleton County, South Carolina, after he was set free +in 1865, rather than to fly to other places he knew nothing of. There he +won the respect of the white folks and Negroes alike, was repeatedly +elected to office, and lived there happily to the end of his life.</p> +<p class="pnext">Here the present Paul Jenkins takes up the story, with:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born in Colleton County in 1867. My daddy was in office when I +begin to recall things, and he keep in office, by the will of the +people, until I was nearly grown. My mammy, too, was a slave, when she +and daddy marry. She die when I was 'bout twelve years old, and my only +brother, Edgar, was goin' on ten. My daddy never marry again.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day some white men come to see daddy long after mammy was gone, and +they say to daddy: 'Paul, when you gwine to jump the broomstick again?' +My daddy was the only one who not laugh when they say that. He reply: 'I +has no women in view and no weddin' dream in the back of my head. I has +decided a wicked woman am a big bother and a good woman am a bore. To my +way of thinkin', that is the only difference between them.' The white +folks not smile, but say: 'You'll see! Just wait 'til the right girl +come along.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Daddy just seem to make friends of all the people 'bout him, and our +house, close to Smoak, was a big meetin' place most of the time. +Sometimes the visitors are all white men. But at other days the niggers +come and talk, tell funny tales, and laugh. Most of the meetin's at the +house was late at night, 'cause my daddy always go to his office at +Walterboro, on week days. People comin' and goin' there, all the time. +Daddy was sho' popular with the people, generally speakin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The biggest crowd I ever seen up to that time, was when General M.C. +Butler come to Walterboro in 1882, to speak. He had been United States +Senator since 1876, and was a candidate for re-election. General Butler +much pleased, that day, when many white leaders and daddy call at his +hotel and tell him that daddy had been asked by his neighbors to +introduce him. He say: 'Well, from what I hears, Paul Jenkins can do +that job as well as anybody in the State.' Then he pat daddy on the +shoulder.</p> +<p class="pnext">"At the speakin', daddy gets up, and the big crowd claps its hands for +joy, and laughs, too. Daddy not laugh much, just smile. Then he throw +back his shoulders and say:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">General Butler, lak Moses, led us forth at last,</div> +<div class="line">The barren wilderness he pass'd</div> +<div class="line">Did on the very border stand</div> +<div class="line">Of the bless'd Promise Land,</div> +<div class="line">And from the misty mountain tops of his exalted wit,</div> +<div class="line">Saw it himself and showed us it!</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"'That's why we am sendin' him back——'. That was all I hear. Daddy not +allowed to finish. The people riot with pleasure, and General Butler say +the tribute am de finest he ever hear, and smile at daddy sittin' there +on the platform with the other big folks. At another time, daddy has a +nigger lawyer runnin' 'gainst him for County Commissioner. The lawyer's +name was Amphibious McIver. They begin the campaign at Cottageville. +McIver speak first. Daddy follow, and begin with:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">A bullfrog tied by its tail to a stump,</div> +<div class="line">It rear and it croak, but it couldn't make a jump!</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"The white folks and the niggers clap, stamp, throw hats, and laugh; +finally, marchin' up to the table to grab daddy and carry him up the +street on their shoulders. He keep sayin': 'Boys, why don't you let me +finish my speech?' They would laugh and say: 'Paul, you done made de +best speech in de world!' Daddy win at the 'lection, in a big way.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My daddy learn to read, write, and cipher while he was a slave. The +Jenkins family help him, he say, 'cause he always keep the peace, and +work as he was told to do. When he's set free, that white family help +him get settled and loaned him books. He go to Charleston 'bout 1868 and +buy an armful of books and studied at night or whenever he had the +chance. That is why he was able to make the political races which he +make and profit by. He send me and my brother, Edgar, to school, so that +we learn a good deal in books. Edgar, he fidgitty lak, and decide he go +to Pennsylvania and make a fortune!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Edgar got work in a steel mill at Johnstown, soon after he got there, +and had considerable money, when he was sent to the hospital with +pneumonia. He pull through that sickness and go back to his job, but the +big flood come (May 31, 1889) and the girl he was to marry was among the +2,000 unknown people who was drowned, and he never has married—peculiar +lak our daddy, don't you think? I just been married to one. She is 68 +and I's 70 and I may say we's through, too!</p> +<p class="pnext">"I specialized on bridge-buildin'. I has helped build a sight of bridges +in my time, travelin' as far as Memphis, Tenn., in that work. I has made +oodles of money, but my dollars always has wings and, one way or the +other, they get away from me. Still me and my old woman not sufferin' +much and we hopes, when we goes away for good, we goes +together."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="emma-jeter"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id16">Emma Jeter</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with "Aunt" Emma Jeter</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">21 Long Twelve, Union, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Lordy, Honey, I sho was born in slavery and I is proud o' it too. Ole +Marse Cole Lawson was my ole marster. When I axed him how old I was, he +allus 'lowed something like dis, 'you is older than you is good', and +dat all he ever said 'bout my age. Sweet Dreams (her grand daughter), +come here and fetch me a drink from de well to wet my mouth! My +grand-daughter stay wid me at night. When she doan stay, some o' de +other grand uns stays. Sometime it's jest me and Sago here all alone. I +jes' sets and looks at him at night while he sleep. He work de rich +white folks' flower yards fer 'em, and dat brings him in at night real +tired. My grand-daughter's real name is Marguerite Porter, but nobody +don't hardly know dat; kaise everybody call her Sweet Dream, her lil +baby name. She my oldest daughter's fifth chile. My feelings tells me I +is ole, and my white folks 'll tell you I was born in slavery, 'cept dey +is all dead.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Light furs' struck me on de large plantation o' Ole Marse Cole Lawson, +de paw o' Mr. Victor Lawson. Mr. Victor ain't no spring chicken no mo' +hisself. Dat over in Sedalia in de Minter Section. You kno's 'bout de +large plantation o' Marse James E. Minter, dat gib de section its name? +(CHS show boundaries of Minter lands). Way back over dar whar I was +born.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Paw stay in Union County. Maw was sold to a man name Marse Bailey Suber +over in Fairfield, while I still a suckling. At dat time, my paw was +bought by a widder woman, Miss Sarah Barnett, in Union Cnty. Lawd Jesus! +Dat separate my maw and paw. Maw tuck me 'long wid her. Maw name Clara +Sims. When Me and maw went to Fairfield, us didn't stay dar long 'fo ole +man Harrison Sartor of Santuck, bought my maw. Us glad to git back to +Union. I was a big size gal by dis time and I start to be de waiting gal +in my new Marse's house fer his wife, Miss Betsy. Miss Betsy had one +sister, Miss Nancy Wilson, dat live wid her. Her missus and old Marster +and dere son, Willie, was all dat I had to wait on, kaise dat was all +dar was in de household.</p> +<p class="pnext">"God-A-Mighty! Is you gwine to fill up dat book wid all dat I says? +Well, Marse Harrison didn't 'low paw to see maw 'cept twice a +year—laying-by time and Christmas. My paw still 'longed to Miss Sarah +Barnett. Dat's 'zactly why I is got five half-sisters and one-half +brother. Paw got him another wife at Miss Sarah's. Miss Sarah want young +healthy slaves. Maw had jes' me and Ann. Ann been daed, Oh, Lord, forty +years. Dis all to my recollections.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Is you gwine to fix fer me and Sago to git some pension? Gawd naw, some +dese lil babies whats 'er sucking de maw's titties is gwine to git dat +pension. Us all gwine to be daed 'fo it even come out. You ain't gwine +to even sho' dat to no Gov'ment man; no Lawd, ain't never thought I's +gwine to git it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, Honey, I was in Fairfield den, but I 'members when crowds o' men +come in from de war. All us chilluns seed mens coming and us run and +tuck off fas' as us could fer de nearest woods, kaise us wuz dat scared, +dat dem mens gwine to git us. Atter dat, us found out dey was our own +folks. Us had done tuck and run from dem den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Chile, you come back when Sago here, and us tell you dat book full, sho +nuff."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="adeline-hall-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id17">Adeline Hall Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Adeline Hall Johnson, 93 Years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Adeline Hall's husband was Tom Johnson but she prefers to be called +"Hall", the name of her old master. Adeline lives with her daughter, +Emma, and Emma's six children, about ten miles southeast of Winnsboro, +S.C., in a three-room frame house on the Durham place, a plantation +owned by Mr. A.M. Owens of Winnsboro. The plantation contains 1,500 +acres, populated by over sixty Negroes, run as a diversified farm, under +the supervision of a white overseer in the employ of Mr. Owens.</p> +<p class="pnext">The wide expanse of cotton and corn fields, the large number of dusky +Negro laborers working along side by side in the fields and singing +Negro spirituals as they work, give a fair presentation or picture of +what slavery was like on a well conducted Southern plantation before the +Civil War. Adeline fits into this picture as the old Negro "Mauma" of +the plantation, respected by all, white and black, and tenderly cared +for. She has her clay pipe and stick ever with and about her. There is a +spacious pocket in her dress underneath an apron. In that pocket is a +miscellany of broken pieces of china, crumbs of tobacco, a biscuit, a +bit of wire, numerous strings of various colors, and from time to time +the pipe becomes the warm individual member of the varied assortment.</p> +<p class="pnext">Her eyes are bright and undimmed by age and the vigor with which she +can telegraph her wants to the household by the rappings of that stick on +the plank floor is interesting and amusing.</p> +<p class="pnext">She is confident that she will round out a century of years, because: +"Marse Arthur Owens done tell me I'll live to be a hundred, if I stay +on his place and never 'lope away wid any strange young buck nigger.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I's not so feeble as I might 'pear, white folks. Long time I suffer for +sight, but dese last years I see just as good as I ever did. Dats a +blessin' from de Lord!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Who I b'long to in slavery time? Where I born? I born on what is now +called de Jesse Gladden place but it all b'long to my old marster, +William Hall, then.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My old marster was one of de richest man in de world. Him have lands in +Chester and Fairfield counties, Georgia and Florida, and one place on de +Red River in Arkansas. He also had a plantation, to raise brown suger +on, in old Louisiana. Then him and his brudder, Daniel, built and give +Bethesda Church, dats standin' yet, to de white Methodis' of Mitford, +for them to 'tend and worship at. He 'membered de Lord, you see, in all +his ways and de Lord guide his steps.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never have to do no field work; just stayed 'round de house and wait +on de mistress, and de chillun. I was whupped just one time. Dat was for +markin' de mantel-piece wid a dead coal of fire. They make mammy do de +lashin'. Hadn't hit me three licks befo' Miss Dorcas, Miss Jemima, Miss +Julia, and Marse Johnnie run dere, ketch de switch, and say: 'Dat enough +Mauma Ann! Addie won't do it agin'. Dats all de beatin' I ever 'ceived +in slavery time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now does you wanna know what I do when I was a child, from de time I +git up in de mornin' to de time I go to bed? I was 'bout raised up in de +house. Well, in de evenin', I fill them boxes wid chips and fat +splinters. When mornin' come, I go in dere and make a fire for my young +mistresses to git up by. I help dress them and comb deir hair. Then I +goes down stairs and put flowers on de breakfas' table and lay de Bible +by Marse William's chair. Then I bring in de breakfas'. (Table have to +be set de night befo') When everything was on de table, I ring de bell. +White folks come down and I wait on de table.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After de meal finish, Marse William read de Bible and pray. I clear de +table and help wash de dishes. When dat finish, I cleans up de rooms. +Then I acts as maid and waitress at dinner and supper. I warms up de +girls' room, where they sleep, after supper. Then go home to poppy John +and Mauma Anne. Dat was a happy time, wid happy days!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat was a happy family. Marse William have no trouble, 'cept once when +him brudder, Daniel, come over one mornin' and closet wid Marse William. +When Marse Daniel go, Marse William come in dere where me and de +mistress was and say: 'Tom's run away from school'. (Dats one of Marse +Daniel's boys dat 'tended school at Mt. Zion, in Winnsboro) Her 'low: +'What him run away for?' 'Had a fool duel wid a Caldwell boy,' him say. +I hear no more 'bout dat 'til Marse Tom come home and then I hear +plenty. White folks been laughin' 'bout it ever since. Special talk +'bout it since Marse Tom's grandson b'come a United State Judge. Bet +Marse Dan Hall told you 'bout it. Want me to go ahead and tell you it my +way? Well, 'twas dis a way: Marse Tom and Marse Joe Caldwell fell out +'bout a piece of soap when they was roomin' together at school. Boys +crowd 'round them and say: 'Fight it out!' They hit a lick or two, and +was parted. Then de older boys say dere must be a duel. Marse Joe git +seconds. Marse Tom git seconds. They load guns wid powder but put no +bullets in them. Tell Marse Joe 'bout it but don't tell Marse Tom. Then +they go down town, fix up a bag of pokeberry juice, and have it inside +Marse Joe's westcoat, on his breast. Took them out in a field, face +them, and say: 'One, two, three, fire!' Guns went off, Marse Joe slap +his hand on his chest, and de bag bust. Red juice run all over him. +Older boys say: 'Run Tom and git out de way.' Marse Tom never stop 'til +him git to Liverpool, England. Marse William and Marse Daniel find him +dere, sent money for to fetch him home and him laugh 'bout it when he +git back. Yes sir, dat is de grandpappy of Marse Lyle Glenn, a big judge +right now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De white folks near, was de Mellichamps, de Gladdens, de Mobleys, +Lumpkins, Boulwares, Fords, Picketts, and Johnsons.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de Yankees come, they was struck dumb wid de way marster acted. +They took things, wid a beg your pardon kind of way, but they never +burnt a single thing, and went off wid deir tails twixt deir legs, kinda +'shame lak.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After freedom I marry a preacher, Tom Johnson. Him die when in his +sixties, thirty years ago. Our chillun was Emma, Mansell, Tom, and +Grover. Bad white folks didn't lak my husband. Dere was a whiskey still, +near our house where you could git three gallons of liquor for a silver +dollar. Him preach agin' it. Dat gall both makers and drinkers. Him +'dured persecution for de Lord's sake, and have gone home to his awards.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In slavery, us have all de clothes us need, all de food us want, and +work all de harder 'cause us love de white folks dat cared for us. No +sirree, none of our slaves ever run 'way. Us have a week off, Christmas. +Go widout a pass to Marse Daniel's quarters and they come to our'n.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dr. Scott and Dr. Douglas 'tend sick slaves. I don't set myself up +to judge Marse Abe Lincoln. Dere is sinners, black and white, but I hope +and prays to git to hebben. Whether I's white or black when I git dere, I'll +be satisfied to see my Savior dat my old marster worshipped and my husband +preach 'bout. I wants to be in hebben wid all my white folks, just to wait +on them, and love them and serve them, sorta lak I did in slavery time. Dat +will be 'nough hebben for Adeline."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="anna-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id18">Anna Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Anna Johnson (75)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Rt.4, Gaffney, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I sho is spry, kaise I sho is done took care of myself and I done dat +good, too. I know Will Evans who is 72 and he is all bent over and +wrinkled and all stewed up. Dat's de way folks wants to see you befo' +dey calls you old, but dey ain't gwine to see me like dat, 'deed dey +ain't. Most folks calls me de youngest, but I was born on de 30th day of +July, and I is passed by 75 Julys and still gitting around better dan +some dat is seed but 60 Julys.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well does I remember when my young marster, John Kitchens, went to de +'Federate War. He was a big fat feller, and jolly. De morning he left, +he come through de yard leading a fine bay. All of us was dar to see him +off. We had fetched him things, but he say dat you couldn't carry +nothing to war but a pack on your back and he laid dem all down and +wiped his eyes and rode off wid a big yell to us. Dat was de rebel yell +and we answered back.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One morning de very next week we heard our young missus hollering and +we went to see what de trouble was. She had got word dat he had done +gone and got kil't by a Yankee. We all cried. De little chilluns, John, +Will, Ella and Bob cried, too. Missus went to her ma and pa, Mr. Green +and Miss Sallie Mitchel, near Trough Shoals. Frankie Brown and Malissa +Chalk went wid her to her pa's. Our plantation was awful big. It was +sold and us wid it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wasn't long till young Missus married again and went to Virginia to +live. Frankie and Malissa come back to our plantation. Den slavery was +over and dat is de last dat I ever heard of our Missus."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jack-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id19">Jack Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Jack Johnson, 84 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"You see me right here, de sin of both races in my face, or was it just +de sin of one? My Marster was my father, his name was Tom Reed, and he +lived six miles from Lancaster Court House. Dats where I was born. My +mammy name Jane, don't know where she come from. My marster was kind to +us. I done no work much, just picked peas and sich like during de war. I +was my mammy's only child, and when de war was over, and I grow up, I +left dere and come to Cedar Creek, low part of Fairfield County. I marry +a gal, Bella Cook, and us had sixteen chillun, thirteen of them is a +livin' now. I then marry Hannah Dubard, a widow. She and me have had no +child.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I b'long to de Sanctified Church, and you have to go down into de water +and come up straight way out of de water to b'long to dat church. Where +is it? Its on Little Cedar Creek in dis county. Who de preacher? His +name is the Reverend Edmunds. Us sings spirituals, one is, 'Dat Heavenly +Railroad Train', another is 'Dere is a Rock in my Heart', another, 'So +glad I'm here, but I'd rather be up yonder Lord'. Some colored churches +'sinuate a child born out of wedlock can't enter de kingdom of heaven. +Our church say he can if he ain't a drunkard, and is de husband of one +wife and to believe on, and trust in de Lord as your Savior, and live a +right kind of life dat he proves of. Dat seem reason to me, and I jine +and find peace as long as I does right.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Never was sick a day in my life, can plow yet, eat three meals a day, +but can't sleep as much as I use to, six hours plenty for me now. I's +just here today findin' out 'bout dat old age pension dats a comin'. +Will you kinda keep a eye on it for me and let me tend to de ox and de +grass at my home on Little Cedar Creek? A short hoss is soon curried, so +dats 'bout all I kin 'member to tell you now."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="james-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id20">James Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with James Johnson, 79 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Henry Grant, Columbia, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">THE COTTON MAN</em></p> +<p class="pnext">James Johnson lives with a sister at 1045 Barron Street, College Place, +[HW: Columbia], S.C. He is incapable of self support on account of age, +ill health, and impaired feet. One of his feet was mashed off and the +other badly damaged by handling bales of cotton several years ago. He +subsists on what his sister and other people are able to give him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I has been livin' right here in Columbia for the past thirty-six years. +I has worked in de cotton business, first as ginner and then wid cotton +buyers, ever since I has been here. I knows all de grades of lint cotton +and can name them right now. (He ran through the different grades fairly +correctly.)</p> +<p class="pnext">"I learned all I knows 'bout cotton and de grades from Mr. M.C. +Heath and Mr. W.E. Smith, cotton buyers in Columbia for thirty years or +more. They thought so much of my knowledge of cotton, dat they sent me +many times to settle claims wid big men and big buyers.<a class="footnote-reference pginternal" href="#id3" id="id2"><sup>1</sup></a></p> +<p class="pnext">"It ain't what a nigger knows dat keeps him down. No, sir. It is what he +don't know, dat keeps de black man in de background. White folks dat is +business folks, pays no 'tention to our color as much as they does to +dat money makin' power us has. Of course, de white man sticks to his +color and you can't blame him for dat. If de nigger shows dat he is +willin' to work and to learn to be business lak, make money and walk +straight wid his boss and fellowman, de better class of de white people +is gwine to treat him right. I knows what I's tellin' you is so, from my +own 'sperience wid Mr. Heath and Mr. Smith. They always treated me +better than I deserved and even now in my old age, deir folks and deir +friends gives me money, dat keeps me out de poorhouse.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, sir, I don't 'member de Civil War a-tall myself but I has heard all +'bout it from my own folks and de white folks I has worked wid. It seems +lak I knows too much 'bout them awful times. I sho' am glad I didn't +come 'long then. I feels and knows dat de years after de war was worser +than befo'. Befo' de war, niggers did have a place to lie down at night +and somewhere to eat, when they got hungry in slavery time. Since them +times, a many a nigger has had it tough to make a livin'. I knows dat is +so, too, 'cause I has been all 'long dere.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Many niggers have gone north to live, since freedom, but de most of +them either comes back south again or they wants to come back. De north +don't suit de nigger. Cold climate lak they has up dere is too hard on +him. He has thin blood and you knows dat a thin pan gwine to git hot +quicker than a thick one and cold de same way. You see a heap of niggers +is lak wild animals, in a way. He laks to eat a heap, sleep a heap, and +move 'bout slow. When he goes up north he has to step 'round fas', +'cause if he don't, he gits in de way of them Yankees dat move 'bout +quick.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De black man is natchally lazy, you knows dat. De reason he talks lak +he does, is 'cause he don't want to go to de trouble to 'nounce his +words lak they ought to be. When he says 'dat' he saves a letter, same +way wid 'dis' and nearly all other words. It ain't after savin' so much; +he is just too careless and lazy to care 'bout it. A nigger wants what +is in sight and not dat what he can't see; it can look out for itself. I +is sorry I has to say all dis 'bout my own color but it is de truth. De +truth makes you free and runs de devil. I is a nigger myself and I knows +what they is and what they does.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Is de nigger 'ligious? Yes, sir, many of them is very 'ligious widout +'ligion. He takes all dat from white folks. So many think 'ligion is +gwine to git them somethin' widout workin' for it and fool people by +makin' them think they is good and can be trusted and all dat. But I +'spects some of them is right, even at dat, 'cause if they ain't got +'ligion they sho' ain't got nothin' in dis world. I pays no 'tention to +all dis 'gwine on' lak I see some 'ligious folks does. Maybe I wouldn't +be in de fix I is, if I paid more 'tention to churches and all dat. I +believes in churches and good folks but I don't practice them good +things lak I ought to. Boss, if you take de dollar out of 'ligion and de +churches, you sho' would have to hunt for them. I believes dat. I don't +see no 'ciples gwine 'bout a preachin' and doin' good, lak I has heard +they once done, barefooted and askin' no pay. De preachers dese days is +a ridin' in de finest automobiles and you sho' better look out for +yourself, if you don't, you is gwine to git run over.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I has been a good man, in body, all de time since I got grown. For many +years I didn't know my own strength. I never seen a bale of cotton I +couldn't pick up and tote where I wanted to, by myself. You see dese +foots of mine? They was mashed off, from drappin' bales of cotton on +them, back yonder many years ago.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members mighty well, when de fust skyscraper was built in Columbia. +My bosses was one of de fust to have a office in dere. Dat was de Loan +and Exchange Bank Building, on de corner of Washington and Main streets. +I has been here and seen dis city grow from a small place to what you +see 'tis now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy and daddy b'long to Mr. Andrew Johnson of Orangeburg County, +of dis State. They said dat they was treated mighty good by deir marster +all de time they was slaves. My daddy took his old marster's name. I was +born a slave but all I knows is what I has heard. Some of it might be +right and some might be wrong."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="rev-james-h-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id21">Rev. James H. Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with James H. Johnson, 82 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Stiles M. Scruggs, Columbia, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"My name is James H. Johnson. I was born December 20, 1855, at the town +servants' quarters of Alfred Brevort at Camden, South Carolina, and that +was home until I was turning into twelve years of age. I was nearly ten +years old, when the army of General Sherman came to Camden. I talked to +some of the soldiers, soon after they arrived."</p> +<p class="pnext">Such was the greeting of the Rev. James H. Johnson; a retired, and well +educated Methodist Episcopal minister, when a WPA reporter called at his +residence, 2029 Marion Street, Columbia, South Carolina, and asked for +an interview. He sat in his study, furnished for comfort and equipped +about as well as any study, of this kind, in Columbia.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother," he explained, "was one of the maids at the Brevort home, +and my father was one of the overseers of the plantation. We did not +hear about President Lincoln's freedom proclamation in 1863, but the +status quo of slavery kept right on as it had been until Sherman's army +came through. You know General Lee surrendered the same spring, and we +learned we were free.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In 1866 my father bought four acres in the vicinity of Camden and +improved it with a house and barn, and we lived there for several years. +My father went into the mercantile business in Camden and prospered. +There I went to the public schools. We had teachers from the North, and +I finished all the grades. There were no high schools in the state at +that time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We had our own home-raised hams and plenty of food products in our +quarters, when my mother and I heard shooting nearby. We stepped into +the yard and saw a big number of soldiers shooting at a running white +man of the community. They did not hit him. In a moment or two five +soldiers strode into our yard and we were scared at first, but they +told us they were friends, and one of them spied the hams and asked if +they belonged to the big house. When told that they were ours, they said +they were hungry, and mother fixed them a dinner of ham and eggs and +plenty of other things. They thanked us and left, doing no harm.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Before they left, I noticed a crowd of soldiers at the Brevort home. I +ran there, and told the troops, please, to do no damage to the premises, +as the mistress, then in charge, was the best friend my mother and I had +ever had. They left soon afterward, showing no animus toward the Brevort +family and taking nothing away.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We never received any aid from the Freedmen's bureau, for we did not +need it. After I finished the public school work at Camden and helped my +father in his store for a time, I entered the University of South +Carolina, in October, 1874 and stayed there until 1877. You know there +was a change in government in 1876, and Negroes were excluded from the +university in 1877. I was in my junior year, when I left.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I returned to Camden and taught school in Kershaw County for ten years. +During that time I opened school in the Browning Home, which still +stands in Camden. In the meantime, I had been an interested member of +the Methodist Episcopal Church since my early years, and I was made an +elder in that denomination in 1888, and sent to Columbia as pastor of +the Wesley Methodist Church.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I came here as pastor, that church stood on the corner of Sumter +and Gervais streets, on the site where the United States post-office now +stands. The congregation sold that corner in 1910 and built the brick +church at Barnwell and Gervais streets. I was the pastor all that time, +retiring in 1930 due to physical feebleness. The congregation of that +church has always been rather small. This accounts for my doing other +work. I was a clerk in the internal revenue office in Columbia for +eighteen years.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now, I am a notary public and make some income from that. The church +gives me a small pension, and I advise and do literary work for a large +number of Negro residents. In that way, I keep fairly busy and my family +has never gone hungry. I did preach some, a few years ago. I am now too +feeble to undertake that task, and have to be content, mostly at home."</p> +<p class="pnext">(Reporter's Note: The Rev. James H. Johnson speaks no dialect. He speaks +choice, grammatical diction and has a most pleasing personality. His is +one of the very few Methodist Episcopal Churches in South Carolina for +Negroes. He says he is glad the church is now seeking to void the split +over slavery in 1860. He resides in a comfortable home at 2029 Marion +Street, Columbia, S.C.)</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jane-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id22">Jane Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Jane Johnson, 90 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Henry Grant, Columbia, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Jane Johnson is living with her niece at 1430 Harden Street, Columbia, +S.C. She is of small statue, dark, not black, plump and apparently well +cared for. On account of her age and bodily afflictions she is incapable +of self-support. Her niece is unmarried, owns a comfortable home, works +and provides for her grandmother in a good and satisfactory manner.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Come in, white folks, take dat chair and set down. I hears dat you +wants to talk to me 'bout myself and my master in slavery time. My name +is Jane Johnson and I's 'bout ninety years old, from de best 'membrance +I has from my white folks friends and my own people. One thing I does +know, I's been here so long, dat I sometimes think I's near 'bout a +hundred years old.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I b'long to Master Tom Robertson. My mistress' name was Ophelia. I +didn't see her much in slavery time, 'cause she stayed in de big house +on Arsenal Hill, Columbia, S.C. De onliest time I see her a-tall, was +when I was sent to de big house for somethin' and dat wasn't often. +Master and mistress had heaps of chillun, 'mong them was twins, all dead +now, if I 'members right, 'cept Master Tom Robertson, a grandson and a +rich man too; he living right here in Columbia. My old master lived in +Columbia but his plantation, where us slaves lived, was 'bout four or +five miles from Columbia on de Sumter road, just beyond de soldiers +hospital (Veterans Hospital), dat's right.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Master Tom come to de plantation every day 'cept Sundays and +sometimes he come dat day, 'specially in crop season. He never talked +to us slaves much, just talked to de overseer 'bout us all, I reckon. De +overseer was a nigger and de meanest man, white or black, I ever see. +Dat nigger would strut 'round wid a leather strap on his shoulder and +would whip de other slaves unmerciful. He worked us hard from sunrise to +sunset every day in de week, 'cept some Saturday evenin's. 'Most of de +grown slave women knocked off from field work at dinner time on +Saturdays and done de washin' for de rest of de slaves.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes sir, us had a plenty of rations to eat; no fancy vittles, just +plain corn bread, meat and vegetables. Dere was no flour bread or any +kind of sweet stuff for de slaves to eat. Master say sweet things +'fected de stomach and teeth in a bad way. He wanted us to stay well and +healthy so us could work hard.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Master Tom was good to us, course he was, 'cause he didn't see us much +no way. But dat nigger overseer was de devil settin' cross-legged for de +rest of us on de plantation all de time. I never has believed dat master +'tended for dat nigger to treat us like he did. He took 'vantage of his +bein' 'way and talk soft talk when he come again. Yes sir, he sho' did.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Not very long after de Yankees come, us was told dat de niggers was +free. You might think dat was a happy day for us slaves, but I didn't +think lak dat. I was kinda lonesome and sad lak. Us slaves was lost, +didn't know what to do or where to go. Don't you think dat was a sad +time?</p> +<p class="pnext">"How old was I when I done my courtin'? What's dat? Dat courtin' stuff +is what white folks does, no nigger knows what dat fancy thing is. Us +just natchally lives together; men and women mates lak de animals out +dere. Colored people don't pay no 'tention to what white folks call +love, they just 'sires de woman they wants, dat's all. I married dat man +of mine, Tilghman Thompson, and us got 'long right smart, 'til he die. I +got 'nother one, Anderson Johnson, and he die too, so here I is, left +here yit.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You knows de black man has had a long, hard road to travel since he was +first brought to this country. From de first, he b'long to de white man +to be took care of and to work. Some colored folks 'pear to be doin' +right well dese days but back yonder long befo' I was born, I's been +told, they didn't know how to provide for themselves. What I wants to +know, what de nigger gwine to do widout de 'sistance of de white man? +What they has got come from them, you knows dat. I hear some of them +growlin' 'round, dat they is gwine to do dis and gwine do dat and they +don't do nothin', 'cept talk too much. They sho' better do right; live +in peace and git somethin' dat will stay with them.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Maybe I's wrong to say dis but you knows, white man, de nigger is a far +way back of de white man; his time ain't come yit, leastwise dat's de +way it 'pear to me. De nigger come from Africa and other hot places, so +he takes after de hot country he come from and has a short temper, hard +head, and not 'nough sense to keep him out of trouble when he gits mad +or 'cited. When he come here, de white man made him work, and he didn't +like dat. He is natchally lazy and when he had to work, then he began to +get huffy and to conjure up in he mind hate and other bad things against +de whites. Ever since the first time de nigger found out he had to work, +he has silently despised the white man. If he had lived and done +nothin', then he would be a 'tirely different person to dis very day, I +knows dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Does I 'member President Lincoln? I sho' does, but not so much, 'cause +I was too young to have much sense. I has heard my mammy and daddy say +he was a good man and wanted everybody to be free, both white and black. +Dere was a heap of poor white folks in slavery time, and some of them +lived mighty hard, worse than the slaves sometimes. You knows blood is +thick and it is gwine to turn to its kind befo' helpin' de others. They +say slavery was wrong but what 'bout hard times? Dat is de worse kind of +slavery, I thinks. All dis hollerin' 'round 'bout freedom they has, +shucks, all dat kind of talk ain't nothin'. When you has work and some +money in your pocket so you can go to de store and buy some meat and +bread, then you has de best freedom there is, don't tell me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"President Roosevelt is 'nother good man. He has looked down on de poor +and 'tressed in dis land wid mercy; has give work and food to de poor +people when nobody else would. He sho' has turnt dis country 'round and +tried so hard to make things right wid de people. When he turn dis way +and turn dat way, them men up there where he is, try to stop him from +helpin' us, but de Blessed Master is gwine to hold his hands up. They +ain't gwine to be able to stop him, 'cause he has done so much good in +de world. Dat man is gwine to be 'membered by de people always, but them +dat has fought him and worked against him is sho' gwine to be forgot. +Nobody wants to 'member them for de evil they has done. You knows dat if +you sows evil you is sho' gwine to gather evil in time. They ain't gwine +sow much longer; their harvest time is right out dere in sight, but de +President is gwine to live on wid us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I's gettin' old now, I has to draw on de 'membrance of de past, tottle +'long in de present and stare wid dese old eyes out dere into what is +to come (future). I has rheumatism and high blood pressure, so you see +I's in for a troublesome time from now on to dat last day. I's livin' +wid my niece now, in her own home, dat is some pleasure to me in my old +age."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jimmie-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id23">Jimmie Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with "Uncle" Jimmie Johnson (90)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">172 E. Park Ave., Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was born in Virginia, but Dr. L.C. Kennedy bought me, my mother and +brothers and we moved to Spartanburg. My father stayed in Virginia. Dr. +Kennedy lived near where North Church Street and Kennedy Place now is, +and I lived in a two-room house in his back yard. I was just a baby at +the time. My old masser was as good and kind to me as he could be, so +was my missus. My mother died when I was ten years old, and Missus was +just like a mother to me all the time. When I got old enough I used to +do some things around the yard for Masser and Missus.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Masser was an Episcopalian, and I went to Sunday School where the rock +church now stands (Church of the Advent). Miss Mary Legg was my teacher, +and she was a saintly woman. She was a niece of old Masser. Old Missus +used to come to the house where I lived and teach me my alphabet. After +I got older, I used to take care of Masser's horse and buggy for him; +used to hitch-up the horse for him and go with him on his ways to see a +patient. Bless his heart, he let me take my Webster's blue back speller +and my history with me when I would drive with him. I would study those +books and Masser would tell me how to pronounce the hard words. That is +the way I got my education. Masser would tell Missus that Jimmie was a +smart boy, that he had no father nor mother and that they must be good +to him. They sure was. I never wanted for a thing. Sometimes on our +drives Masser would tell me some Latin words, but I never did study +Latin—just English.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My masser would say that Jimmie had sense, was a good boy, so Missus +would let me practice on her organ or her piano in the house. I got +pretty good on these, so when I got to be a young man, I taught lessons +on both the reed organ and the melodian, then on the piano. I taught the +rudiments of music and piano for about 25 years.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When the Yankee soldiers come to Spartanburg it scared me. They kept +telling me that they were not going to hurt me, but I got a pile of +brick-bats and put them under the house. I told Missus I wasn't going to +let any of the soldiers hurt her. The Yankee soldiers did not bother me. +They came all around our house, but every one of them was quiet and +orderly. They took some of Missus' sugar and hams, but did not kill any +of the chickens. I told them not to take the sugar, but they took it and +the hams anyhow.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Missus told me that I was free, but I told her I was going to stay on +where I was and protect her until I died. And when Masser died, I +grieved and grieved about him. I loved him dearly and I know he loved +me. He was good and kind to me always. He never whipped me, not once. I +grieve about my masser to this day. He was a kind gentleman.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, I never married, and I haven't got anybody kin to me now. My +brothers all died and I am the only one left. I adopted four children. I +taught them music and we got on pretty well after Missus died. I stayed +with her until she died. I told Masser I was going to stay with them +even if I was free, and I did. When Masser died, I had no one to love +but Missus. I taught music and gave piano lessons, but I can't do that +now, as I am too old. Lately I tried to cut some wood. I would cut a +lick, then rest; cut a lick, then rest, so I gave it up.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lord bless your soul! I am so glad you told who you are, and you talk +like Masser Dan. You know he and I used to play together as boys. He +would give me anything he had. Honey, come around and see me again. I is +sure glad to see you. What did you say your name was?" Upon being told, +his face would light up with a smile, and he would repeat just what he +had said before. He was then asked when he got to be a poet. "Law' +chile, my old missus told me I was going to be a poet."</p> +<p class="pnext">This ninety-year-old ex-slave then sat down at the piano and played for +the writer.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mary-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id24">Mary Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">I</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mary Johnson (85)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was born seven miles from Newberry, near Jalapa. I was a slave of +John Johnson and his wife, Polly (Dorroh) Johnson. They was good to dere +slaves. My daddy was Daniel and my mudder Elisa Johnson who was slaves +of marster John Johnson. My mudder come from Georgia when she was 14 +years old, bought by Marse Johnson. We lived in a little one-room house +in dere yard. The mistress learned me to card and spin, and to weave +when I was a child. When I was old enough, dey put me in de field to +work, hoe and pick cotton. We got no money for working, but got our +place to live, some victuals and a few clothes to wear. We had no +garden, but helped de mistress in her garden and she give us something +to eat from it. We had homespun dresses; we made not much underclothes, +but sometimes in awful cold weather, we had red flannel underskirts.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nigger boys in slavery when dere work was done in evening, sometime +went hunting and caught rabbits, squirrels or 'possums.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We got up at sun-up in mornings and worked 'till sun-down. We had +Saturday afternoon off to do anything we wanted to do. At Christmas +time, we got dat day off, and de master would have a big dinner wid all +kinds good things to eat, spread out in de yard.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We never did learn to read and write—had no nigger school and had no +nigger church, but sometimes de white folks would have us go to dere +church and set in back seat or gallery.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The white folks had cotton pickings and corn shuckings often and we +helped. Dey had good dinners for them coming to it. De childrens, white +and black played marbles sometimes, and played base. Us slave children +played base and jumped from one base to another before could be caught; +and we sing: 'Can I git to Molly's bright? Three course and ten. Can I +get there by candle-light? yes, if your legs are long and light.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse John's youngest son got to be a doctor. He was a good man and +helped us when we was sick. He did not gibe herbs much, but some of de +ole folks used 'life everlasting', now called rabbit tobacco, for cure +of bad colds or pneumonia. Dey boiled it and make a plaster and put it +on sore places of chest. Dey used holly bush or spice bush bark, boiled +to a tea and drunk for sickness.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De padderrollers come in dat section, they rode at night and if caught, +a nigger, when he was out of his place, would be took in and told dat he +would get 25 lashes if he was caught again. When de war was over, de +Yankees went through but didn't bother us; but dey stold horses, mules, +cows and supplies. When freedom come, we left the place, 'cause marse +Johnson and some his folks went to Mississippi. We hired out to Kirk +Richards nearby.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Ku Klux was not a bother. Dey jus marched sometimes at night, wid +long white sheets over dem and all over de horses. Dere heads were +covered with small holes for eyes, nose and mouth, and had long white +ears like a horses ears.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I think Abe Lincoln was a fine man, and Jeff Davis was good too. Slaver +did good to nigger, made him careful and know how to work."</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">II</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mary Johnson (85)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I live in town in a little two-room house wid some of my grandchilluns. +We rent de house. I am too old to work, but do what I can.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was de slave of John Johnson. His wife was Miss Polly. Dey was good +to de slaves, and I had no trouble. My mother was Eliza Johnson and my +pa was Daniel Johnson. Dey was both slaves to Marse John Johnson. My +mother was from Georgia. We always lived in de yard behind de house in a +small one-room cabin, a pretty good place to live, I reckon.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We didn't git no money fer our work. We got something to eat, but not +much clothes to wear. We worked hard dem days; got up at sun-up and +worked all day till sun-down or as long as we could see. We didn't git +much time off, 'cept maybe a day at Christmas.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, de white folks didn't learn us to read and write. We had no school +and no church in slavery time, but some of de niggers was made to go to +de white folks' church and sit in de back seat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, de Yankees was bad. Dey burn't everything in deir way, and stole +cattle; but dey didn't come near our place."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="miemy-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id25">Miemy Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Miemy Johnson, 82 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Miemy Johnson has no particular place of abode. She is a transient among +her children, kin people, and friends. In whatever home she may be +temporarily an occupant, she does the cooking and family washing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I knowed when dat bunty rooster hopped in de door, flap his wings and +crowed, dis mornin', dat us gonna have company today. I told Sam so +befo' he left here. Him laugh and say: 'Ma, dat bunty rooster is a big +liar sometime. Maybe him just wanna recommend hisself to you and beat de +pig to de slop bucket dat you ain't carried out to de pen yet.' I's sure +glad dat you come, for it'll show Sam dat dat chicken never told a lie.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Set down dere and let me fetch you a plate of boil peanuts, which I +just is set off de fire. You lak them? Glad you do, honey. Most white +folks love them dat way, 'stead of parched. How you been? You sure is +growed since de last day I clap my eyes on you. How's I been? Poorly. +I's just a waitin' for de chariot to carry me home!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, us done cut down de underbrush, now let us git into de new +ground. You just wanna talk 'bout me and what happen to me all 'long de +last eighty years? Dat's some big field to go over.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy was name Henry. My mammy name Ceily. They both b'long to old +Marse Johnnie Mobley, but my pappy's pappy b'long to de Johnson's; +they's big white folks on de Catawba River side of de county. They sold +deir plantation and some of de slaves, to old marster and his daughter, +Miss Nancy. She was de widow Thompson befo' her marry dat Kentucky hoss +drover, Marse Jim Jones.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Freedom come. My pappy 'membered de Johnson's and took dat for his +name. I never been able to git 'way from dat name. I marry little Phil +Johnson. My brudder was Adam Johnson and my sister was Easter. Her marry +Allan Foster.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My husband and me live in de old Mobley quarter, three miles southwest +of Woodward and just 'bout a quarter of a mile from where you settin' +dere a writin' right now. Long as him live, him was de carriage driver +for de Mobleys. He 'tend Fellowship Church. All de Mobleys done dead or +moved 'way. Dere is nothin' left to tell de tale but dat cemetery you +passed, comin' 'long down here and de ghosts dat shiver 'round dere in +de nighttime. Whenever it snow, them ghosts have been seen travelin' +down de road and up de avenue to Cedar Shades. You know dat's 'bout a +quarter of a mile farther down de road from where Marse Johnnie's +brudder, James Mobley, lived. Fine old house dere yet, but just colored +folks live in it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our chillun was Roxanna, Malinda, Ben, Mary, Waddell, Queen Elizabeth, +Russell, Pearly, Thomasine, Helen, Alberta, Maggie, Mary Jane, Willie, +Sam and Roy. Had de easiest birth pains when, to my big surprise, de +twins, Sam and Roy come. Dat been forty years ago last July. I 'members +well, dat de twins was born on a Wednesday and I walk to Red Hill Church +de very nex' Sunday. Rev. Richard Cook was de preacher. Him didn't see +me a settin' in de church and he pray for me by name, as bein' in de +perils of childbirth. And bless God, me right dere in dat church a goin' +'long wid de rest of them a singin': 'Amazin' Grace How Sweet De Sound +Dat Saved A Wretch Lak Me'. I was a proud wretch dat day as sure's you +born!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Does I 'member anything 'bout de earthquake? Jesus my Lord, yes! Us was +holdin' a revival meetin' in Red Hill dat night! It was a moonlight +Tuesday night. Brother Stevenson and Brother Moore was a helpin' Brother +Richard Cook carry on de meetin'. It was de last day of August, in '86. +Brother Moore had preached, de choir had sung a hymn, and Brother +Stevenson was in de middle of a prayer. Him said sumpin' 'bout de devil +goin' 'round lak a roarin' lion a seekin' folks for to devour. Then de +roarin' was heard. De church commence to crack and shake and rock. Then +all de folks holler: 'Oh Lordy.' They run out dat church and some took +up de big road to de depot at Woodward. Some fell down in de moonlight +and cry and pray. Brother Cook say de Bible says: 'Bow down, or kneel or +fall on your face befo' de Lord'. Then he say: 'Let us all fall on our +faces dis time.' Us did and each one of them preachers pray. 'Bout time +they git through, us see a rider on a milk white hoss a gallopin' up to +de church wid de white mane and tail of dat hoss a wavin' and shinin' in +de moonlight. De people went wild wid fear and scream at de top of deir +voices; 'It's de white hoss wid his rider of de book of Revelations +goin' forth, conquerin' and to conquer.' They bust forth in dat mighty +spiritual 'Oh Run Here, Believer, Run Here, Oh Sinner Your House On +Fire! Oh Sinner Your House On Fire!' They run and surround de white hoss +and his rider and what you reckon? Us find out it was just Marse Ed +Woodward on his white hoss, John, comin' back from courtin' my young +mistress, Tillie Mobley, dat him marry de nex' Christmas.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse Ed got down off dat hoss when us beg him to stay wid us. It's a +pow'ful comfort to have a brave white man 'round at sich a time 'mongst +a passle of terrified niggers, I tells you! And to think Marse Ed done +dead.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You goin' now? You ain't eat all your peanuts. Put them in your pocket +and eat them on de way to de Boro. Goodbye—I 'spect I'll git to glory +befo' you does. If I does, I'll be dere a waitin' wid a glad hand and a +glad voice to welcome you to de everlastin' home."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="tom-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id26">Tom Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Tom Johnson (83)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G. Leland Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was born on the Gilliam place, I reckon about 1854. My father died +when I was little; I don't remember him. My mother was Lucy Gilliam who +belonged to Reuben Gilliam. Reuben Gilliam was a big farmer and +slave-owner. He was good to de nigger chaps but whipped de big ones +every day or two. I was too little to learn to read and write, but dey +never learned any slaved to do dat. Dey never paid us any money wages, +just give us eats and a place to sleep, and a little clothes. I worked +in de field when I got bigger. Never had school in de place, and never +had a church, either.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us children played lots of games, like rolly-hole. There are two holes +and you try to roll a ball in one hole. The white folks had +corn-shuckings, lots of them, as they raised lots of corn on de farms. +Dey had cotton pickings, too, and carding and spinning bees, quilting +bees. I used to feed de shippers when women folks spin de yarn, when I +was a small boy. We raised plenty corn, cotton, and other things. We had +a big garden, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When freedom come all of us left and went off. I went back to get +something to eat. I married Mattie Kinard who belonged to old Maj. John +Kinard. We had nine children.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'member de red shirts when dey come through our place. I like it +better now dan in slavery times."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="richard-look-up-jones"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id27">Richard (Look-up) Jones</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Richard Jones (Dick Look-up), age 93 [HW: 125?]</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">County Home, Union, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Dick has an upward stare all the time, and holds his head as if he were +always looking up into the sky, consequently he has won the sobriquet, +'Look-Up'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Everybody dat knows me knows dat I was born on de Jim Gist plantation, +and it used to jine Mr. Winsmith's and de Glenn Peak plantations. Mr. +Winsmith was a doctor. Marse Jim sho was a good man to his darkies.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My father was named Ned Jones and he belonged to Marse Berry Jones. His +plantation was across de forest, next to West Springs. Mother was Lucy +Gist, belonging to Marse Jim. My parents had de following chilluns: +Esther, Bella, Ephriam, Griggs, John, Penfield, me and Richard. Dey +married and so we was all Jones.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De slaves in de Gist Quarter lived well. All nigger chilluns in dat +quarter had very small tasks until dey was seventeen or eighteen years +old. De quarter had nine houses. Dere was seventeen hundred acres in our +plantation; or dat is, de part where we lived and worked. We lived in +one-room log cabins dat had to be well kept all of de time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All de chilluns in de Quarter was well fed, clothed, housed and +doctored until dey was strong and well developed younguns. Den dey was +give tasks and learnt to do what de master and de mistress thought dey +would do well at.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In de houses we had comfortable home-made beds and chairs. We had nice +tables and plenty to eat. Our clothes was kept mended by a seamstress, +and dese things was looked after by one of de mammies on de plantation +dat was too old to work.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ah yes, well does I 'member my Granny from Africa, and straight from +dere, too; Judith Gist, dey named her. Dat ole lady could not work when +she died, fer she was a hundred and ten years old. Dey had in de paper +dat I was 125 [HW: 93?]. It gives me notice to say dat I is de oldest +man in Union County. Can't 'member any of my grandfathers. Millie Gist +was my mother, and aunt Judith was her mother.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Granny Judith said dat in Africa dey had very few pretty things, and +dat dey had no red colors in cloth, in fact, dey had no cloth at all. +Some strangers wid pale faces come one day and drapped a small piece of +red flannel down on de ground. All de black folks grabbed fer it. Den a +larger piece was drapped a little further on, and on until de river was +reached. Den a large piece was drapped in de river and on de other side. +Dey was led on, each one trying to git a piece as it was drapped. +Finally, when de ship was reached, dey drapped large pieces on de plank +and up into de ship 'till dey got as many blacks on board as dey wanted. +Den de gate was chained up and dey could not get back. Dat is de way +Granny Judith say dey got her to America. Of course she did not even +know dat de pieces was red flannel, or dat she was being enticed away. +Dey just drapped red flannel to dem like us draps corn to chickens to +git dem on de roost at night.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When dey got on board de ship dey were tied until de ship got to sea; +den dey was let loose to walk about 'cause dey couldn't jump overboard. +On de ship dey had many strange things to eat, and dey liked dat. Dey +was give enough red flannel to wrap around demselves. She liked it on de +boat. Granny Judith born Millie, and Millie born me. No, I ain't never +had no desire to go to Africa, kaise I gwine to stay whar I is.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle Tom come 'long wid Granny Judith. Two womenfolks come wid dem, +aunt Chany and Daphne. Aunt Chany and aunt Daphne was bought by de Frees +dat had a plantation near Jonesville. Uncle Tom and 'Granny' was bought +by Marse Jim Gist, but dere marsters allus 'lowed dem to visit on July +4th and Christmas. When dey talk, nobody didn't know what dey was +talking about. My granny never could speak good like I can. She talk +half African, and all African when she git bothered. No, I can't talk no +African.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After I was seventeen I did all kinds of hoeing and plowing and other +farm work fer my marster. He said dat by dis time, his little niggers' +bones had done got hard enough fer dem to work. We had a 'driver', a +older person, dat showed us how to do everything right. Marse never let +him over-work or hurry us. We liked him—'Uncle July Gist', we called +him and dat was his real name, too. His wife, Aunty Sara, was good to +us; dey both buried at Woodson's Chapel Baptist Church.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Fer my first task I had 1/4 of an acre in taters, 'bacca and +watermelons de first year. Some of de boys had 'pinders, cantloupes and +matises (tomatoes) in dere task of a 1/4 acre.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De next year, we made corn and sold it to our master fer whatever he +give us fer it. All de use we had fer money was to buy fish hooks, +barlows, juice harps and marbles. Boys did not use 'bacca den until dey +got twenty-one or over. Marse allus carried a roll of money as big as my +arm. He would come to de quarter on Christmas, July 4th and +Thanksgiving, and get up on a stump and call all the chilluns out. Den +he would throw money to 'em. De chilluns git dimes, nickles, quarters, +half-dollars and dollars. At Christmas he would throw ten dollar bills. +De parents would take de five and ten dollar bills in charge, but Marse +made de let de chilluns keep de small change. I tell you, I ain't never +seed so much money since my marster been gone. He buried at Fairforest +Presbyterian Cemetery as white folks calls it, but we calls it Cedar +Grove.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When he died, he had sixteen plantations, you can see dat at de +courthouse in Union. All his darkies went in a drove of wagons to his +burying. He was killed by dem Yankees in Virginny. Uncle Wylie Smith, +his bodyguard, come back wid his body and told us dat Marse was kilt by +a Yankee. Marse Jim was a sentinel, and dat Yankee shot him in his nose, +but strange to say, it never tore his face up none. Miss Sara buried him +in his uniform and she wrapped a Confederate flag over de top of de +coffin. Uncle Wylie put Master's watch around Miss Sara's neck like he +had done told him to do when he got home. Miss Sara cried and us cried, +too. Jim never married and dat's why Miss Sara to do everything, kaise +she was his sister what lived wid him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr., I run on Broad River fer over 24 years as boatman, carrying Marse +Jim's cotton to Columbia fer him. Us had de excitement on dem trips. +Lots times water was deeper dan a tree is high. Sometimes I was throwed +and fell in de water. I rise up every time, though, and float and swim +back to de boat and git on again. If de weather be hot, I never think of +changing no clothes, but just keep on what I got wet. Five niggers allus +went on Marse's boat. One man steer de boat and of course he was de +steerman, and dat what he went by. I recollects two steermans, Bradley +Kennedy and Andy McCluny. Charlie Gilliam was de second steerman, by dat +I means dat he de young nigger dat Bradley and Andy had to break in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sometimes Marster have three flat boats a-gwine down at one time, and I +has recollections of as many as five a-gwine from our plantation; dat +was not so often, though. Us had long poles to steer de boats wid; den +dere was some paddles, and some of de niggers was called privates dat +handled de cotton and used de paddles when dey had to be used. You knows +dat batteaus was what dey always used de paddles wid. Privates did de +shoving and other heavy work. De seconds and de privates allus shoved +wid de poles when de water was rough, and de steerman give orders. I was +allus a boatman.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Charlie Gilliam acted as boatman, some; and den de other boatmen was: +Bill Hughes, Warren Worthy, Green Stokes and John Glenn. Dey made de +poles to suit de job. Some of de poles was longer dan others was. Some +of dem was broad and flat at de end; others was blunt and others was +made sharp. When de Broad River rose, sometimes de waves got higher dan +my house dar. Den it was a real job to handle one of Marse's boats. Fact +is, it was five men's jobs. Wid water a-roaring and a-foaming and +a-gwine round you like a mad tiger a-blowing his breath, so dat you was +feer'd (scared) dat all your marster's cotton gwine to be spilt, you had +to be up and a-doing something real fast. Sometimes dat river take your +boat round and round like a merry-go-round, 'til you git so +swimmy-headed dat you have to puke up all de victuals dat you done eat. +Den it swing from dat whirl into a swift stream dat take you a mile a +minute, yes sir, a mile a minute fer I don't know how fer.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den you see a tree a-coming right straight to you. If de boat hit dat +tree, you knowed dat you be busted into a million pieces. You had to git +your poles and somebody had to let a pole hit dat tree ahead of de boat. +Of course dat change de boat's course from de tree and you went sailing +on by. Once in a freshet us raced twenty-five miles in twenty-five +minutes. Marse Jim was wid us dat time, and he tole us so by his watch. +De water a-jumping real high and dat boat a-jumping still wusser made me +so skeer't dat I just shake in my knees and all de way up and down my +legs.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On dis trip we had went plumb up in North Carolina. Us never had been +dat fer up befo'. I ain't never seed North carolina befo'; neither is I +seed it since. Broad River was real narrow when we went up and she look +like a lamb; but when we come down it had done and tuck and rained and +dem banks was vanished ... but dat water sho did rare up dar to git back +in its regular channel. De rocks up dar was mo' scary looking dat dey is +whar it run through Union to Columbia. Dat night we run into a nine-mile +shoal. Couldn't none de niggers keep dat boat off'n dat shoal it was so +powerful ... dat is, de water just tuck dat boat plumb smack out'n our +hands. But it throwed our boat in shallow water and of course dat made +it drag. Good dat it never drug over no sharp rocks—and dey was setting +all around us—but it happened dat it hit sand. We camped dar fer de +night. By morning we had done go a quarter mile from de channel.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When we et (ate), we worked de boat out into de main channel again. Den +we staked her to a tree and tuck a look around befo' we started down +stream fer Union; dat seemed fer off right den. Finally de master +boatman give de order, 'Shove off, boys!' We shoved and we fell into a +clear open channel and our boat went a-skeeting down stream. We never +had to hit a lick, but she went so fast dat we was all skeer'd to take a +long breath. Finally Marster said, 'Boys, see dem willow trees down +yonder; well, steer her to run over dem so dat she will slack her +speed.' Us did, but it never deadened our speed a mite, dat us could +see. Marster shake his head and 'low, 'Bound fer hell, maybe, boys'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Got to Cherokee Falls, wid water so high couldn't tell no falls dar. +Marster say, 'Lay her to de right, we can't wreck dis boat widout +putting up a honest man's fight.' Den he say, 'If us does, us'll sho go +to hell.' We tried to swing her by grabbing to a big willow, and we +broke a lot of limbs in trying, but we did swing her and she run a 100 +yards widout steering, and de boat landed on a little mountain of land. +Marse 'low, 'Ain't never seed sech a ocean of water since I was eighteen +years old, damn if I have.' He look at me and say, 'Don't know whether +Dick scared or not, but he sho is a brave man.' I was a-setting my feets +on land den, and I look at him and 'low, 'No sir, I ain't skeer't, why I +could come over dat little place in my bateau.' Truth is, dat I was so +skeer't dat I wasn't skeert. We lay over a day and a half. De water had +done receded back some, and we come 27 miles down to Lockhart Shoals in +dat one day. De water was still so high dat we run over de shoals widout +a tremor. Come sailing on down to Fish Dam and went over de Fish Dam and +never knowed dat it was dar. Den we landed at de road wid everybody safe +but still scar't.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dar was two Charlie Gilmores ... one was kil't right below Fish Dam. He +was hit in de head by a private. When de private was cutting de boat, +Charlie got in de way of de pole and it hit him in one of his temples +and he fell over in de water dead. When dey got him, wasn't narry drap +of water in his lungs, dat's how-come us knowed dat he was kil't +straight out. Some says dat he was hit in de y'er (ear), but anyway it +was on a tender spot and de lick sho done him up. Nothing wasn't done to +de private, kaise it was all accidental and Marse and everybody felt +sorry fer him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On river trips, we took rations sech as meat, bread and cabbage, and us +cotch all de fish dat we wanted and had coffee. We each took day in and +day out to cook, dat is, all dem dat could half-way cook did +dat."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="wesley-jones"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id28">Wesley Jones</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Wesley Jones</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Rt. 2, Union, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Yes sir, I drinks jes' a leetle likker, and I drinks it—I don't let it +drink me. One call fer another. Dar it goes 'till you be's drunk. I is +97 years old and I ain't never been drunk in my life. No sir-ee, nobody +ain't never saw me drunk. It sho drink some of 'em though.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Heep o' stars fell when I was young. Dey fell regular fer a minute er +so. I laid down fer a nap and de niggers woke me up a hollering. Ev'y +darky was scared, but it sho was a pretty sight.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members de earthquake, too. De earth shake and tremble so hard dat +some loose bricks fell out my chimney and de pitcher fell off de +winder-sill down on de flo'. I was 'bout 50 years old den, if I 'members +correct. Dat come 'long in 1886.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I also 'members Gen. Wade Hampton, when I was a building up de +breastworks to keep de Yankees from shooting us. Dem was scary times, +but de Ku Klux days was scary times de most.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My young marster, Dr. Johnny Hill, used to have me drive him to +Padgett's Creek Church. Sometime us go to de Quaker church, den agin, us +go to church over in Goshen Hill.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Bout fus' thing my white folks had me a-doing, was gwine fer de papers +up to de sto' at Sardis. I would git a lot o' letters, fer in dem days, +de white folks rit letters to one another mo' dan dey does now. I guess +dese days de mos' writing dat is done is business writing. At de Sardis +sto' dey used to give big barbecues. Dem days barbecues was de mos' +source of amusement fer ev'ybody, all de white folks and de darkies de +whole day long. All de fiddlers from ev'ywhars come to Sardis and fiddle +fer de dances at de barbecues. Dey had a platform built not fer from de +barbecue table to dance on. Any darky dat could cut de buck and de +pigeon wing was called up to de platform to perform fer ev'ybody.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Night befo' dem barbecues, I used to stay up all night a-cooking and +basting de meats wid barbecue sass (sauce). It made of vinegar, black +and red pepper, salt, butter, a little sage, coriander, basil, onion, +and garlic. Some folks drop a little sugar in it. On a long pronged +stick I wraps a soft rag or cotton fer a swab, and all de night long I +swabs dat meat 'till it drip into de fire. Dem drippings change de smoke +into seasoned fumes dat smoke de meat. We turn de meat over and swab it +dat way all night long 'till it ooze seasoning and bake all through.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lawyer McKissick and Lawyer A.W. Thompson come out and make speeches at +dem barbecues. Both was young men den. Dey dead now, I living. I is 97 +and still gwine good. Dey looked at my 'karpets' (pit stakes). On dem I +had whole goats, whole hogs, sheep and de side of a cow. Dem lawyers +liked to watch me 'nint' dat meat. Dey 'lowed I had a turn fer ninting +it (annointing it)."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="sallie-layton-keenan"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id29">Sallie Layton Keenan</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sallie Layton Keenan, 80 yrs. old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">20 Calhoun St., Union, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">'Aunt' Sallie (80 yrs. old) and 'Uncle' Robert live with their grandson. +A daughter lives nearby. They like to tell of the days when they were +children:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Land o' de libbin, my maw, she wuz one o' de Hughes and Giles niggers. +She used to lob to set down by de fire an' tell us younguns 'bout de +times what de had down dar on de big ribber (Broad River). Our +plantation, she used to say, wuz de one what de white folks called Mt. +Drury. But when maw wuz rael young, jus big enough to wait on de fine +white ladies, she wuz put on de 'block', you nos what dat wuz, and sold +to Marse 'Matt' Wallace. Marse Matt took it into his haed dat he wuz a +gwine to a place what dey calls Arkansas. His white folks, specially his +wife's, dem wuz de Mengs, dey riz up an put forth mighty powferul +objections. Fer a long time he wuz jus onsettled in he mind 'bout zactly +what he really wuz a gwine to do.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Peers to me like my maw 'lowed dat he sorter kept his intentions secret +when he had rightly make up he mind 'bout de whole business. In dem days, +dere wo'nt no trains like dare is now. Everbody had to ride in waggons, +and de white ladies, dey allus rid in fine carriages. De chilluns, dey +rid wid de wimmen folks. Our Marster, he rid high steppin' horse, cept +on de Sabbath, when he rid wid de missus to meetin' house out on de +creek. (Brown's Creek).</p> +<p class="pnext">"Anyhow, one cold mornin' not long fore Christmas and jus atter +Thanksgivin' us sot out fore day, or dat is, my maw and pa did, kaise I +wuz not born till we got to Mississippi River. Dar wuz fo' in de white +folks carriage—I is heered Maw tell it a thousand times, over and +over—In de carriage dar wuz Missus; and de fo' chilluns, Jeanette, +Clough, Winter and Ida. Marse Matt, he rid de horse right by de side o' +de carriage. Paw—de call him 'Obie', he driv a waggin wid all de little +nigger chaps in it dat wuz too little to walk. De big nigger boys and +gals dat wuz strong, dey walked. De roads wuz jus narrow little trails +wide enough fer de carriage and de waggin to git through de lims o' de +trees. Dey would hit you in de face iffin you didn't duck 'em, so maw +allus 'lowed. Dey had pack mules dat fetched along de supplies, fer dey +had to spen' de night in de thick woods what nebber had been cut. All +kinds er varmints used to git atter dem and maw 'lowed dat dey wuz scared +when dey sot camp, and she used to tremble mo' den she slep. When she +did sleep, she 'lowed dat she drempt de awful varmints wuz a gittin' +atter her. De missus, she wuz scared at night too. Marse Matt, he 'lowed +he warn't one bit scared, but maw sat dat Missus say he jump powerful in +he sleep sometimes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse Matt had done sot a task of so many miles fer dem to travel from +sun-up to sundown, but maw 'lowed dat dey nebber did hardly git dat fer. +De pack mules would git short winded, and sometime de carriage horses, +dey would git lame; or one o' de waggin wheels would take and break; or +it wuz allus some bad luck er follerin atter dem. Den Marse Matt, he +'lowed dat he didn't believe in no travelin' signs, and 'cause o' dat, maw +'lowed dat dey had de worsest kind o' luck. Dat is de reason dat de train +did not git no further than 'Promoter' County, Miss. (Mr. Wallace really +went to Como, Desoto County, Miss., verified by Mrs. J. Clough Wallace). +It took dem fo' weeks to reach 'Promotor'. Dar dey set up de new home. +Maw 'lowed dat dey wuz called tender feeted poineers by dem what had got +dar ahead of dem. Peers like maw 'lowed dat dey stayed dar five year. +Anyway de fus year, a lot o' de niggers tuck all manner o' ailiments and +dey died. De Missus, she kept full o' cold in dat log house. Dey had +a fine house here, you nos de house what Miss Roberta Wallace libs in, +well, dat wuz de one, cepin it wuz not as fine as Miss Roberta got it +now. Anyway, maw and paw, dey didn't like it no better dan missus, cepin +dey wuz skeered to speak dere minds. Finally, de Marster, he tuck down +sick, and in spite o' all dat Missus do fer him, maw 'lowed he kept a +growin' worser and worser till he tuck and died one bad night. Missus, +'Dandy' de Marster allus called her, had got so broke down wid worry and +sorrow, dat she wuz nigh to death's door, herself, when de Marster died, +maw said. Fer dat reason, dey kept it from her fer two weeks. Dey +thought dat she wuz gwine to have de pneumonia, like him, but she started +to gittin' well fore she tuck de pneumonia. Maw said dat dey used all o' +de ole nigger remedies on de Missus dat dey knowed and fer dat reason +dey brung her through. Maw is told me dem remedies but I is so ole +now, dat I jus remembers dem. If Bob wuz at hisself he could give you +some. You come by here some day when de moon is right and den Bob'll be +in his right mind to tell you some o' dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Missus, she come back powerful slow, and it wuz mi' nigh +Thanksgiving when she got strong. It wuz so cold dat she used to 'low how +she wish fer her paws big warm fire, and de Carolina sunshine. So one +bad morning, she took and got a letter from her paw in Union. He axed +her to fetch us all back here to Union. It had done tuck de letter over +three weeks to git to her. Long fore de Marster had died he had gib up +hope er gwine to Arkansas. When dat letter rive, maw 'lowed dat de Missus +she tuck and started to cryin'. All dat day she cry and read it over an +over. De very next morning she called up all us, I wuz born den, and maw +'lowed dat I wuz a carrin' a sugar tit in my mouf and dat I had de cooter +bones round my neck. Course I disremembers all cept dat what I is been +told over and over. When maw and paw went out dar, dey had one little +chile. He wuz six years ole when dey got back here. One had done tuck +and died fore dey lef here. Den me and my sister, we wuz born in Miss.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat wuz one glad day fer us, kaise Missus 'lowed dat she wuz a gwine +back to her paw in Union. All de niggers, dey started to dancing and a +hollerin' like dey wuz wile. Maw 'lowed dat some folks dat libbed three +miles away tuck and come to see us. Some o' dem called us slackers, er +sometin' kaise we wuz a leavin'; but others, maw 'lowed, dat dey wished +dey could go as fer as Georgia wid us. But I is nebber liked Georgia +myself. Missus gib de orders fer us to begin packin' and maw said dat de +way dem niggers worked wuz a dyin' sin. De Missus, she sell her mules +and other stock, kaise we wuz a gwine to ride all de way back on de +railroad train. It had jus broke through to Miss. Some o' de ole niggers +'lowed dat dey wuz feered to ride on dem things, bein' as dey wuz drawed +by fire. Dey thought de debbil, he wuz a workin' in de inside of dem. +Maw 'lowed dat if de Missus wuz not feered she would not be. De Missus +was feered 'bout dem dat wuz not gwine to ride on de train, but when she +'lowed dat dey could jus stay in Miss. Maw said dat dey nebber did hear +no mo''bout dem bein' feered o' de train.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Maw and paw allus tole me 'bout de things what I did on de train. I wuz +so young dat I jus remembers anything about dat. She 'lowed dat she tuck +de cooter bones from my neck fore we started to de train. Maw 'lowed dat +when de train come up, dey wuz so scairt dat we did not want to git on +till she did. All de niggers wuz looked up to when dey got back here, +maw 'lowed, kaise no niggers in Union had ebber rid on de train ceptin +dem dat had rid fer as Alston, and dey wuz so few dat you could count +dem on your hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Missus 'Dandy' come right back to her paw's house. He wuz Mr. Clough +Meng. Missus Dandy's little boy, Clough, wuz big enough to go to school +when dey got back. It wuz Christmas when dey got to 'Promotor' County, +and it wuz Christmas when us rive back.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When my paw, 'Obie', wuz a courtin, a nigger put a spell on him kaise +he was a wantin' my maw too. De nigger got a conjure bag and drapped it +in de spring what my paw drunk water from. He wuz laid up on a bed o' +rheumatiz fer six weeks. Dey all knowed dat he wuz conjured. He could +not even set up when his victuals wuz fetched to him. So his brother +knowed who had put de spell on him. He tuck and went to another old +conjure man and axed him to take dat spell off'n paw. De conjure man +'lowed to paw's brother dat a grapevine growed over de spring, and fer +him to go dar and cut a piece of it six feet long and fetch it to his +house at night. When he tuck it to de conjure man's house, de conjure +man, he took de vine in a dark place and done somethin to it—de Lawd +knows what. Den he tole my paw's brother to take it home and give it to +paw. De man what put de spell on paw, I mean de nigger what had it done, +he come often and set down by paw and ax him what was ailen him. Our +conjure man, he tole paw dat de nex time de man come an' set down by his +bed, fer him to raise up on his lef elbow and rech down by his bed and +take dat piece o' grapevine and hit de nigger over de head and face. Den +atter he had done dat, our conjure man 'lowed dat paw could den rise up +from his bed o' rheumatiz.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It wont long before de nigger come to visit my paw. My paw, he axed him +real nice like to have a seat. His maw had done put a chair by de bed, +so dat he would set down wid his face toward paw. Atter he and paw got +to talkin, paw reched down an' axed him to have a look at de grapevine +dat he was gwine to smoke fer his ailment. Dat nigger, he 'lowed to my +paw dat it wuz not a goin to do his rheumatiz no good. Jus as he 'lowed +dat, paw, he riz up on his lef shoulder and elbow and wid his right han' +he let loose and come down over dat nigger's face and forehead wid dat +grapevine. Dat nigger, he jump up and run out o' dat house a hollerin' +kaise he knowed dat paw and done got de spell offin him. My paw got up +de next day and dey 'lows dat he nebber did have no mo' +rheumatiz."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ella-kelly"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id30">Ella Kelly</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Ella Kelly, 81 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Yas sir, I was born a slave of Mr. Tom Rabb, they call him black Tom +Rabb, 'cause dere was two other Tom Rabbs. Marster Tom's hair was jet +black and even when he shave, whisker roots so black face 'pear black. +Yas sir, I come to birth on his place two or three miles from Monticello +in de country, so I did. They say de year was de year President Buchanan +was president, though I dunno nuttin' 'bout dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy name Henry Woodward, and b'long to old preacher Beelie +Woodward's son, John. But all dis was just what I heard them say 'bout +it. My mammy name Ella. She was de cook. I too little to work in slavery +time, just hang 'round kitchen wid mammy, tote water and pick up chips, +is all de work I done I 'members.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Money? Help me Jesus, No. How could I ever see it? In de kitchen I see +none, and how I see money any where else, your honor? Nigger never had +none! I ain't got any money now, long time since I see any money.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What did us eat? Dat's somethin' I knows 'bout. My mammy de cook for de +white folks, wasn't I right dere at her apron strings all de time? Eat +what de white folks eat, all de time, sho' I did! Too little to 'member +much what slavery was like; can't tell nothin' 'bout clothes, never had +no shoes. Us went to church some Sundays. Funny, them dat had not been +good or done somethin' bad was kept at home by de white overseer, and +some of them played wid de white chillun. Sorry I can't answer every +question.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One story I 'member 'bout is de pa'tridges and de Savior. My pappy +allowed de reason pa'tridges couldn't fly over trees was: One day de +Savior was a-riding long on a colt to de Mount of Olive Trees, and de +drove flewed up, make sich a fuss they scared de colt and he run away +wid him. De marster put a cuss on de pa'tridges for dat, and ever since, +they can't fly over tree tops. You reckon dat so boss? They say they +never does fly over trees!</p> +<p class="pnext">"I had a good marster and mistress. When de slaves git sick, they 'tend +to them same as one of their own chillun. Doctor come quick. They set up +and fan you and keep de flies off. They wouldn't let de slaves do dis, +'cause certain times you got to take medicine 'cordin' to doctors +orders, and a slave might make a mistake. Oh, they was 'ticular 'bout +sickness. They has a hard time wid some nigger chillun and dat cast' oil +bottle, I tell you!</p> +<p class="pnext">"One of my young marsters was name Charlie. After freedom he marry one +of Colonel Province's daughters and me and my mammy moved and lived wid +them a while. Then I got married to Wates Kelly, and went to live and +work for a white man 'bove White Oak. His name was Long John Cameron, de +best white man to work for, but when Sat'day come and all de hands paid +off, he git dat red hoss and turn and gallop to Winnsboro and bring back +a passel of low down white trash wid him to de disturbment of all de +good colored person on de place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas sir, Klu Klux was a terror to certain colored persons. I 'members +they come dressed up in white and false faces, passed on to de +Richardson place and whipped somebody one night.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My husban' been dead twelve years. I's got thirteen chillun and Minnie +is de onliest one livin' wid me in dis house. Her name Minnie Martin. +Got whole lot of gran' chillun; they cover de earth from Charlotte to +Jacksonville, and from Frisco to Harlem, New York; but never see them, +just three, Franklin, Masie and Marie Martin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I heard 'bout Lincoln and Booker T. Washington. De President now in de +White House, Mr. Roosevelt, have done more good for de nigger in four +years than all de other presidents since Lincoln, done in fifty years. +You say its been seventy-two years? Well, than all de rest in +seventy-two years. Don't you know dat is so? Yas sir, dats de gospel +truth.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I's a member of de Baptist Church. Been buried wid my Lord in baptism +and hope for a resurrection wid him in Beulah Land.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, de overseer was de poor buckra, he was what you calls dis poor +white trash. You know boss, dese days dere is three kind of people. +Lowest down is a layer of white folks, then in de middle is a layer of +colored folks and on top is de cream, a layer of good white folks. +'Spect it'll be dat way 'till Jedgement day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I got one boy name Ben Tillman, livin' in dis town. White folks calls +him Blossom, but he don't bloom 'round here wid any money, though he is +on de relief roll by sayin' he got a poor old mammy nigh a hundred years +old and he have to keep her up. 'Spect when I gits my old age pension my +chillun will pay me some little 'tention, thank God. Don't you know they +will, sure they will."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="martha-kelly"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id31">Martha Kelly</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Martha Kelly (age between 70 and 75)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Marion, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Annie Ruth Davis</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"All I can tell you, I come here de second year of freedom. Cose I had a +lot of trouble en I can' hardly imagine how long it be dat I de age I +is. My mother, she know my age good, but she been dead for de years come +en gone from here. Ain' much I can remember to tell you 'cause I was +small den. No, my mammy didn' tell we chillun nothin. Didn' have no time +to tell we chillun nothin. She had to go out en work in de field in de +day en she would be tired when night come.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy white people was name Charlie Law en his family en dey lived +in Britton's Neck till dey come up here to Marion. We lived in a rice +country down in dat place call Britton's Neck. Ain' you hear talk of it? +My mammy en her chillun stayed right dere on old man Law's place till +long time after dey tell dem dey was free to leave dere. Stayed to de +nigger quarter in my mammy house 'cause we was learn to be field +hands.—Harold, I told you hold off me 'cause I don' feel like you layin +on me dis mornin.—(Harold—small grandson). Didn' know 'bout nothin much +to eat in dat day en time, but bread en meat en rice en all such as dat. +Oh, de peoples in dat country made plenty rice. Dey would plant it on +dis here black lookin dirt en when dey would see dat it was right ripe, +dey would cut it en thrash it out. Den dey would have one of dem pestle +en mortar to beat it wid. My blessed, child, dat been turn out de nicest +kind of rice. No, mam, don' see no such rice dese days dat been eat like +dat rice eat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I recollects I used to be right much of a hand to pull fodder en pick +cotton en all such like dat 'cause all my work was in de field mostly +till I got to de place dat I couldn' work no longer. You see, when I was +married, I moved out dere on Dr. Miles' place over next Pee Dee en 'bout +all my days was spent in de country. Lived out dere on Dr. Miles' place +till I come here to town to live 'bout seven or eight years ago. You is +hear talk of Dr. Miles, ain' you? I used to do what you might say a +right good size washin, but I ain' able to get 'bout to do nothin dese +days much. Just washes out a piece or two like a apron every now en den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some of de peoples used to sing dere, but I wouldn' never bear much +along dat line. Didn' have no voice much to sing. Is you got dis one?</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Lord, I wonder,</div> +<div class="line">Lord, I wonder,</div> +<div class="line">Lord, I wonder,</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">(Repeat 3 Times)</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">When de lighthouse</div> +<div class="line">Gwine shine on me.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Dat all dere be to dat one. I don' know whe' if I could remember dat +other one or no. Seem like it go somethin like dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Oh, didn' it rain?</div> +<div class="line">It rain 40 days,</div> +<div class="line">En it rain 40 nights,</div> +<div class="line">It ain' never stop a droppin yet,</div> +<div class="line">En I heard de angel in de mornin sing,</div> +<div class="line">Oh, didn' it rain?</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">But down by de graveyard,</div> +<div class="line">Me en my Lord gwine stand en talk.</div> +<div class="line">Up on de mountain fire en smoke,</div> +<div class="line">I wouldn' be so busy 'bout de fire en smoke.</div> +<div class="line">I heard de angel in de mornin sing,</div> +<div class="line">Oh, didn' it rain?</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Oh, didn' it rain?</div> +<div class="line">It rain 40 days,</div> +<div class="line">En it rain 40 nights,</div> +<div class="line">Widout still a droppin yet,</div> +<div class="line">I heard de voice of de angel in de mornin sing,</div> +<div class="line">Oh, didn' it rain?</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Oh, didn' it rain?</div> +<div class="line">Down by de graveyard,</div> +<div class="line">Me en my Lord gwine stand en talk.</div> +<div class="line">Chillun, my good Lord,</div> +<div class="line">I heard de voice of de moanin angel,</div> +<div class="line">Oh, didn' it rain?</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Oh, didn' it rain?</div> +<div class="line">It rain 40 days,</div> +<div class="line">En it rain 40 nights,</div> +<div class="line">Widout still a droppin yet,</div> +<div class="line">En I heard de voice of de angel in de mornin,</div> +<div class="line">Oh, didn' it rain?</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Well, dere ain' been so much dat I remember dat happen when I come +along but what been happen in a way dis day en time. Cose dere been a +difference 'cause de people ain' used to live fast like dey do dese days. +Dere been de shake dat come here in '86 dat I ain' never see de like +since en ain' want to see nothin like dat no more neither. I remember it +come here on a night en when I get in bed dat night, I ain' been +expectin nothin had been de matter. Den dere somethin been rouse me up +en all de dishes was a rattlin'. When I get up en go out in de yard, de +house en all de elements was a rockin'. Yes, mam, I was scared. Didn' +know what was de matter. Thought it was de Jedgment comin when I wake up +en hear all de people round 'bout dere screamin en a hollerin, Jedgment! +Oh, Jedgment! Say dem what ain' right better get right. I tell de people +dat dere won' no need to run to de church den 'cause we was all gwine be +destroyed dere together. Child, I give myself up den en I get just as +happy as I could be.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, dey had slavery time doctors to tend de people when dey was sick in +dat day en time. Yes, mam, had dey plantation doctor right dere dat +would go from one plantation to de other en doctor dem what was ailin. +De doctor would come dere to my white folks plantation en tell my +grandmother what to feed dem on en she would give dem de remedy dey tell +her. Dey would use all kind of different herbs in dat day en time dat +dey would get out de old fields en de woods for dey cures. Honey, dey +was good too en dey good yet. I couldn' tell you half de herbs dey use, +but I recollects dere was boneset dat was good for fever, sage for de +baby, pennyroyal dat was good for girls dat catch cold, mint for sick +stomach, catnip to hope a cold, horehound to strike a fever en dat 'bout +all I recollect. No, mam, I can' remember half de herbs dere was in de +field, but I know we got some of dat sage growin dere in de garden now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I hear talk of dem Yankees plenty times, but I don' know much to speak +'bout dem. Couldn' tell de first word 'bout dem. I dis kind of person, I +don' pay much mind to nothin like dat. Dey was white people, I think.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Seems like it was better livin long time ago den dere be now. Seems +like times so tight dese days. Reckon it 'cause I ain' able to work, but +dey tell me de people don' get nothin much to speak 'bout for dey work +dis day en time. Seems like I got along good when I was able to whip +round en 'bout.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I hear de people say dere such a thing as ghost, but I don' know en I +ain' de kind to speak 'bout de devil business. I hear talk dey could be +walkin right along wid you en dere some people could see dem en den dere +others could look wid all de eyes dey got en couldn' see dem. No, I +ain' never see dem. I has seen people wear one of dese dime round dey +ankle, but I never didn' ax dem nothin 'bout what dey wear it for 'cause +some people is curious en don' like for you to be axin dem 'bout things. +I did always keep out of fuss en I still keepin out it. Never did bother +none wid it. When I see anybody fussin, I shuns dem. My mammy didn' +raise me to do dat."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mary-jane-kelley"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id32">Mary Jane Kelley</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mary Jane Kelley (85)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I live in a rented house wid my daughter who takes care of me. I was +born in de Santuc section. My pa and ma was Richard Dawkins and Marsha +Shelton Dawkins. I think dey lived wid de Hendersons in de Maybinton +section near Broad River, but dey lived wid Marse Bill Jeter near Santuc +when I was born. My husband was Ike Kelley, he been dead good many +years.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse whipped me once or twice. We had to work in de cotton fields, and +I have split rails and ditched like men, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We had home-raised meat, lots of hogs and cattle. Marse had a big +garden and we got lots of vegetables. Marse fed slaves in a trough in de +yard. He had his own smokehouse whar he cured his meat. His flour was +ground in de neighborhood. Sometimes he give a slave family a small +patch to plant watermelons in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We wore heavy brogans wid brass toes. Sometimes Marse would make his +own leather and have shoes made in de neighborhood and dese would have +wooden bottoms. He never let us learn to read and write. He never +allowed us to go from one place to another unless it was on his place. +De patrollers would git us if we didn't have a pass; even if we went to +church wid white folks we had to have a pass. Niggers didn't have no +church till atter de war; den dey built brush arbors in de woods.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married at my house. We is Baptists, and I used to go and see dem +baptize sinners.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We used to go home at night when de work was over and go to bed and +rest. We worked all day on Saturdays, but never worked on Sundays. On +Christmas Days we had off, and Marse would give us good things to eat +and some whiskey to drink.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother worked around de house in slavery time, she helped cook, +clean up and wash dishes, and sometimes she would card, spin and weave.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey used to make a yellowish dye from mud, a grayish dye from maple +tree bark and a brownish dye from walnut tree bark. We allus planted by +de signs or de scales. Irish potatoes, turnips and sweet potatoes we +planted in de dark of de moon; while beans was planted in de sign of de +craw-fish.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I remember when de Yankees come through atter de war. Dey stole +everything and burned up everything dey couldn't steal. De Ku Klux was +in our section. Dey killed lots of niggers around dar.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't remember anything about Abraham Lincoln nor Jefferson Davis, +only heard about dem. I don't know much about Booker Washington, +either."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="gabe-lance"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id33">Gabe Lance</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Uncle Gabe Lance, age 77</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Sandy Island, Murrells Inlet, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Genevieve W. Chandler</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">BORN AND LIVING ON SANDY ISLAND</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Great Peace! Missus, have to study up that!"</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Gabe had just arrived from Sandy Island at the country +post-office, having rowed over for his month's supply of sugar and +coffee and things he cannot raise. After the five or six mile row he +must needs walk three miles to the office.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I could remember when the Yankee boats come to Montarena—gun-boats. +'Bout ten o'clock in the morning. Soldier all muster out and scatter all +over the island. You know that cause-er-way? Gone over that two by two, +gun on shoulder glisten gainst the sun! Blue-coats, blue pants, hat all +blue. Come back to landing 'bout five o'clock. Have hog, geese, duck! +Broke in barn. Stole rations from poor people. My Grandfather the +Driver—slave Driver. Name Nelson. Maussa—Frank Harriott. Maussa gone +in swamp. Hid in woods. My Grandfather take old Miss Sally—Miss Sally +Harriott—count she couldn't walk with rheumatism—Grandfather took old +Miss Sally on he back to hid 'em in the woods where Maussa. Yankee stay +but the one day. Ravage all over us island. All goat, hog, chicken, +duck, geese—all the animal but the cow been take on the Yankee gun +boat. They broke in Maussa big rice barn and share all that out to the +colored folks.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some my people run away from Sandy Islant. Go Oaks sea-shore and +Magnolia Beach and take row-boat and gone out and join with the Yankee. +Dem crowd never didn't come back.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Any slave run way or didn't done task, put 'em in barn and least cut +they give 'em (with lash) been twenty-five to fifty. Simply 'cause them weak +and couldn't done task—couldn't done task! 'Give 'em less rations to +boot! Cut 'em down to</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">1 qt. molasses</div> +<div class="line">1 lb. meat</div> +<div class="line">1 pk. corn for a week</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Good Master all right. Give plenty to eat. Reasonable task. Task dem +time one-fourth to one half acre. Ditching man ten compass. Got to slush +'em out. Got to bail that water out till you kin see track.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All dem rice-field been nothing but swamp. Slavery people cut kennel +(canal) and dig ditch and cut down woods—and dig ditch through the raw +woods. All been clear up for plant rice by slavery people.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Beat my Pa and Ma to death and turn me loose! Ought to take care 'o me! +I send off my 35 ct. fust (first) time, next time twenty-five cents I put +what little I have in it. Ain't hear no answer. Some ten or fifteen head +round here send off blank and don't get no hearing! Take what little I have +and don't send me nothing 'TALL! I tired with that now! Ain't had a hearing!" +(Referring to 'old age compensation').</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ephriam-mike-lawrence"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id34">Ephriam (Mike) Lawrence</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">I</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Ephriam Lawrence</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Edisto Island, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">C.S. Murray</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I don't 'member much 'bout slavery time 'cause I been lee (little) boy +when war declare. I raise up under de Murray—all my generation belong +to de Murray. Dey know how to treat slave. Ain't lick um much, hardly +any. Chillun hab easy time. All I been require to do was tote coal to +Mosser when he ready fer light. Adam Mack and me, we been de fire boy. +Mosser gib Adam to Mister Eberson. I ain't gib to nobody—'specially.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All white people ain't treat slave good. Some make um wuk haa'd all +day, and 'cuss um plenty. De slave who been live near Steamboat Landing +had rough time when dere old Miss git in tantrum. She been 'nuse to +trabbel all over de world, and when she come back, she call all de slave +together, and say: 'When I come, de debbil come.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"We family ain't had all dat to worry 'bout. Behave yourself and you all +right. Plenty to eat, plenty to drink. Run 'round and enjoy yourself if +you got uh mind to. Wuk when you wuk, play when you play. Ole Miss 'nuse +to 'tend all de sick nigger. Go from house to house, wid lee pair of +scale and bottle ram jam pack of calomel. Give lee nigger big dose of +castor oil, and dey git well quick, mighty quick.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Old Mosser 'nuse to keep all de likker in de world on hand. Had to keep +plenty, 'cause he friend drink lot and nigger drink lot too. He ain't +drink so much heself. Old nigger been live on de place call John Fraser, +same one I tell you 'bout, dat cut all dem tree down. John sure been +slick. When Mosser call fer he fine likker to hand 'round, John come +back and tell him all gone. Mosser want to know why. John make reply: +'Why, Mosser you know you hab Mister Binyard to supper last night and he +finish all dat good stuff. You know how Mr. Binyard drink. Sometime he +drink when your back t'un (turned). How you 'speck um to last?' Mosser +scratch he haid, and say, yes he know how Mr. Binyard drink, and mebbe +dats why de last bottle empty. He ain't satisfy, but he can't prove dat +John drink um.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mosser 'nuse to keep de whiskey down in de cellar by de barrel, and he +draw um off in bottle when he need um and take um upstair to de wine +room. De nigger dat wuk 'round de house and de yaa'd, help dem self out +de barrel when dey feel tired. Mosser 'spect dem to do dat—dey 'title +(entitle) to um. Whiskey been kinder ration in dem day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nigger jest know haa'd time now. Ain't been dat way when I been lee +boy. You ain't lacking fer nutting den dat you really need. No tussling +'bout fer yourself and knock 'round from pillar to post. If we need +anything slavery time we ax (ask) fer um—make we want known. Any +feeling ably white man who hab slave, gib we what we need. No puzzling +'tall (at all).</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ain't I tell you 'bout dat time when John Fraser take overcoat from +Mosser right on Meeting Street? No. Well, it been uh cold day, and +Mosser tell John Fraser to meet him on de corner Meeting and Broad wid +de overcoat, 'cause he going out dat night and he want 'um. John been +wid Abel Wright, and de two of dem walk down de street to meet de Major. +John say to Abel: 'I cold as de debbil, and I going to ax Mosser fer he +coat.' Abel say: 'You crazy. He send for um and he sure ain't going, to +gib you he good new coat anyhow.' John say: 'You wait and see.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Soon Mosser come in sight. When he see John he git mad right off 'cause +John hab on he overcoat. Before he kin say uh wud (word) John speak up +fast. He say: 'Yes, Mosser I got on your coat 'cause it mighty cold. Got +to excuse old nigger. You hab 'nother coat. I ain't got nutting but dis +here jumper. Go on home Mosser and git torrer (the other) coat. I going +to keep dis. He jest fit me. Go on home.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mosser study fer uh while, den he laugh. He see how keen de coat fit +John, and he know it been cold sure 'nough. John look sekker (just like) +dress up monkey in dat long tail overcoat, and dat make de Major laugh +all de more. So he tu'n round and go home, and John hab dat coat till he +die.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Old Mosser scarcely going to deny you nutting, if he like you."</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">II</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Ephriam (Mike) Lawrence, about 80, farmer and laborer</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Edisto Island, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">C.S. Murray</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Mike Lawrence belonged to what he calls "de Murray state" in slavery +times. He was one of Major William Meggett Murray's "fire boys", who was +charged with the specific duty of bringing live coals to the master +whenever he wanted to light his pipe. Mike was only a small lad when war +was declared, but he remembers numerous stories relating to "Maussa's +niggers", some of which are worth recording. He speaks from first hand +knowledge, he says, for the things that he tells about happened during +his childhood and still stand out clearly in his mind.</p> +<p class="pnext">Here is one of Mike's stories:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Old John Drayton was de smaa'test of all de nigger de Maussa place. He +wuk so haa'd some time dat Maussa jest got to stop him, or he kill +heself. I nebber see sech uh man fer wuk in all my life. Maussa t'ink uh +lot ob um, 'cause he been uh good field hand, beside know lot 'bout +cutting 'ood (wood) and building fence. What been more old John play fer +all de dance on de plantation. He fair (really) mek fiddle talk. When +Maussa gib uh dance he always call 'pon John.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas, suh dat man sure could play. W'en he saw down on de fiddle and +pull out dat june (tune) 'Oh, de Monkey Marry to de Babboon Sister,' he +mek paa'son (parson) dance.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day more dan all, Maussa Murray send wud (word) to John dat de cow +der break out ob de pasture, and he got to mend de fence quick. But +John done promise some nigger on Fenwick Island to play fer uh dance, +and he steal paa't (path) and go. (This expression means to go away by +stealth). Dat been Friday night and Maussa say John got to finish de +fence by sundown the next day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"W'en Old John ain't show up Saturday morning, Maussa ax eberybody where +he been and de nigger all band togedder (together) and tell Maussa dat +dey see him leabe in uh boat to go fish and he ain't seen since. Maussa +been worry sure 'nough den 'cause he t'ink John might be drown'. He 'gage +(engage) four man to shoot gun all ober creek to mek John body rise. +Atter dat day drag all 'bout in de gutter.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Maussa gone bed wid heaby haa't (heart) 'cause he been very fond ob Old +John.</p> +<p class="pnext">"John come back from Fenwick Island early Monday morning and 'fore day +clean he in de 'odd der cut fence rail. Now, one hundred rail been call +uh good day wuk, but Old John decide he going to do better den dat. He +find fibe (five) tree grow close togedder, and he cut piece out ob every +one. Den he chop at the biggest tree till he fall, and dat tree knock +all de rest ober wid um.</p> +<p class="pnext">"W'en all dem tree fall togedder, it make sech uh noise, dat ole Maussa +hear um in he bed, and hasten to dress so he kin see w'at der go on in +de woods.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Maussa saddle de horse and ride 'till he git to de center ob de noise +and dere he see Old John cutting 'way like he crazy. Maussa been mad +sure 'nough, but den he glad to see John ain't drown'. He staa't to say +some t'ing but Old John interrupt, and sing out: 'Go 'way Maussa, I +ain't got time to talk wid you now.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Old John den gather up five ax, and go to de five tree laying down on +de ground. He dribe uh ax in ebery tree and den grab uh neaby maul. W'en +Maussa look on, he tek de maul and run from one tree to torrer (one to +the other) and quick as he hit de ax, de tree split wide open. Maussa +staa't to say some t'ing 'gain but John ain't let him talk. He say: 'Go +on home to Missus, Maussa, I too 'shame, great God I too 'shame! Go on +home.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Maussa tun (turn) 'round in he track and go home widout uh wud, 'cause +he see de old nigger ain't going to gib him any satisfaction 'bout +Saturday. W'en he go back in de 'ood dat evening he check up and find +dat Old John done cut five hundred rail. Oh, dem been man in dose day, I +tell you."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ben-leitner"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id35">Ben Leitner</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Ben Leitner, 85 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I see you go by de road de other day, on your way to old man Wade +Jackson's house. 'Member de old fellow dat am paralyzed, de one dat +lives beyond Fellowship graveyard? I was setten' in dat graveyard when +you and Marse Thomas pass in de automobile. I 'quire nex' day where you +was a goin', then Marse Thomas say you goin' 'round doin' sumpin' 'bout +old slaves and 'spect you'd like to see me. So here I is.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, I's knowed you since you was knee-high and Marse Thomas say, +maybe you help me to get a pension. If you can't, nobody can.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born a slave of old Marse Robin Brice, not far from New Hope +A.R.P. Church. My mistress was name Miss Jennie. My young marsters' was: +Marse John, Marse Chris, and Marse Tom. Marse Tom been a little runt; +they call him Tom Shanty. Him got to be a member of de Legislature, +after de war. All them went to de 'Federate War. Deir sister, Amanda, +marry Marse Bill Kitchen. You 'member him, don't you? Course you does.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Member dat day baseball fust come out and they got up a team, not a +team then; they called it a 'Nine', when de game fust come to woodward +section? If you ketch a ball on de fust bounce, dat was a 'out'. No sich +thing as a mask for de face, gloves for de hands, and mats to protect +your belly. No curves was allowed, or swift balls throwed by de pitcher. +Him have to pitch a slow dropball. De aim than was to see how far a +batter could knock de ball, how fast a fellow could run, and how many +tallies a side could make. Mighty poor game if de game didn't last half +a day and one side or de other make forty tallies.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse Bill Kitchen was workin' in de store of his brudder-in-law, Marse +John A. Brice. Him was called out to make one of de 'Nines'. Him went to +de bat, and de very fust lick, him knock de ball way over center field. +Everybody holler: 'Run Kitchen! Run Kitchen! Run Kitchen!' Marse Bill +stand right dere wid de bat; shake his head and long black whiskers and +say: 'Why should I run? I got two more licks at dat ball!' They git de +ball, tech him and de umpire say: 'Out'. Marse Bill throw de ball down +and say; 'D—n sich a game!' Folks laugh 'bout dat 'til dis day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My daddy name Bill Leitner. Him never b'long to Marse Robin. Him b'long +to Marse John Partook Brice. Mammy b'long to Marse Robin. Her name +Sarah. Daddy have to have a pass to come to see mammy.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My brudders and sisters was Eliza, Aleck, and Milton. Patrollers whup +daddy one time when they come to de house and find him widout a pass. +Marster have mammy whup us chillun, when us need a whuppen. Her milk de +cows, churn, and 'tend to de milk, butter and dairy. I helped her wid de +cows and calves, and churnin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You ask me is I had plenty to eat? Sure I did, wid all dat milk 'round +me all de time. Best thing I 'member right now was runnin' my finger +'round de jar where de cream cling, and suckin' it off my fingers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marster took good care of his slaves. They never went hungry or cold.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My marster and mistress live in a big two-story house. Us live in +little log house, wid log chimneys. I 'members fightin' chinches in de +summertime and fleas all de time. I wore a asafetida bag 'round my neck, +when a child to keep off croup, measles, diphtheria, and whoopin' cough. +Marster send for Dr. Walter Brice when any slave get very ill.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De fust year of freedom I work for Marse Chris Brice. Been wid de +Brices all my life. Now livin' on Marse Tom Brice's place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de Yankees come, they ramsack de house for silver and gold. They +burn de house and gin-house; carry off mules, hosses, and cows. They +took de chickens, load all de provisions, put them in a four-hoss waggin, +and leave us and de white folks cold and hungry. It was cold winter time +then too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I marry a ginger cake lady, one-fourth white, daughter of Louis Grier. +Tho' I ain't much on looks as you sees me today, dat gal often, befo' +and after de weddin', put her arms 'bout me and say: 'Ben you is de +han'somest man I ever have see in de world.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had three chillun. My wife led me to de light of de Lord. I jined de +Red Hill Baptist Church, under de spell of Peter Cook's preachin' and my +wife up in de choir a singin': 'Give me dat old time Religion.' Preacher +Miller is my pastor now. Peter Cook dead and gone to glory long years +ago. I 'members now dat old preacher's warm hand, when he took my hand +dat night I jined. Him say: 'God give you a life to live. You have a +soul to save. God give you His Son to save dat soul. Glory be His +name!."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mary-ann-lipscomb"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id36">Mary Ann Lipscomb</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mrs. Mary Ann Lipscomb</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Gaffney, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">REMINISCENCES</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"My husband, Nathan Lipscomb, was over on Mt. Pleasant fighting, and I +had been over there to see him. He was a private in the rear ranks. When +we were coming back to Charleston on a rice steamer, an open boat, the +Yankees were shelling the town. I played with my fingers in the water of +the bay as the steamer went along. We landed at a different landing from +the one where we had started from. When I got off the steamer I was very +much frightened, for they had shot through the hotel where we were +staying.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We immediately left the city by train. I hated to leave my husband so +far behind, but I could do nothing about it. In that day the train used +only wood for fuel. Only two trains a day came from Columbia to +Charleston. They made about 18 miles per hour, but that was good +traveling at that time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My brother, Thomas Wilkins, went through the war. My father, Russell, +and Richard were in training when the surrender came. I stayed with my +father at White Plains while my husband was off to war. When we heard +that the Yankees were coming, we had the Negroes to hide all the horses +but two, and to hide the cows and turn the hogs loose to ramble in the +woods.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When the Yankees rode up to the yard and got off their horses, we could +easily tell they had been drinking. We told them that our horses were in +the stable and that the Negroes had fled in terror, which was true. They +ate up everything they could find and ransacked the closets and pantry. +They then caught the chickens, took the two horses in the stable and +went away.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The darkies came back with the cows and horses, and we got settled for +the night. About nine o'clock, the Yankees came unexpectedly and took +all the horses and cows. They killed the cows, and made our darkies help +them to butcher them and barbecue them. The Yankees soon ate everything +up and left with our horses.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My grandmother, Agnes Wood, gave my mother, Elizabeth Wilkins, a +beautiful young mare. The Yankee who took that mare, turned over a pot +of fresh soap when my mother asked him not to take the mare. Our cook, +Matilda, had the soap ready to cut in the pot, so we saved some of it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"During the second year of the war I was making me a homespun dress, and +while my father helped me with the weaving he told me of a dress that +one of his friends made during the Nullificatlon days. I carded and spun +the filling for my new dress, wove it, made the dress and wore it to +Charleston when I went to see my husband. It had broad, black stripes +the width of my two fingers, and two green threads between the black +stripes. It also had a little yellow stripe. It was really a beautiful +dress and looked very much like silk."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="govan-littlejohn"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id37">Govan Littlejohn</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">I</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Govan Littlejohn</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Park Ave. and Liberty St., Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Capt. Sam Littlejohn whipped Miss Sallie H.'s slave. His name was Ambus +H. Cap' tied him to a tree. Never had no corn-shuckings, us shucked de +corn quick as us hauled it from de field.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My marse kilt as many as twenty hogs every time he butchered, which be +about fo' times every winter. Marse Richard Littlejohn never married. He +lived wid his mother and seven brothers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse was one good man and he love his darkies. He never had no +overseer, because he had only 'bout 80 slaves as I remembers. I de +onliest chile dat my ma had and I be 88 if I live to see dis coming +December. My ma teach me to fight nothing in dis world but de devil.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My father was Peter Littlejohn. Lawyer Tommie Dawkins was his marster. +I never was sold. I married, but never had no chilluns. My old lady been +gone over de river dese many years, so many dat I cannot recall how +many. Yes Sir, I used to light my ma's pipe and wear home-made clothes. +Ole lady Rhoda was de seamstress. She died not long atter we was +liberated.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I lives in de Woods Funeral Home which is on de corner of Park Ave. and +Liberty Street. Once I befriend a man in distress. He now own interest +in de undertaking 'stablishment and dat is why I has a room dar in my +old age."</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">II</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Govan Littlejohn</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">387 S. Liberty St., Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Govan Littlejohn, of Spartanburg, told the writer he was 87 years old +and that he remembered slavery times. He said he was born on the farm of +Dicky Littlejohn, located near Grindal Shoals. He said Richard +Littlejohn owned a mill on Pacolet River, though his brother, Jim +Littlejohn, owned the land. This was a grist mill. Govan Littlejohn's +father was a colored man from another farm and his name was Hawkins, but +he took the name of Littlejohn. He remembers the Yankee Soldiers passing +in the public road, but they did not bother any one there; didn't take +or steal anything, and just passed on quietly. He says his master did +not know how to whip anybody, though he remembers him catching hold of +him one day and switching him with a small twig, saying "You little +rascal, you." His master whipped some of the grown negroes but not hard +enough to hurt them, though once or twice he saw a grown negro with bare +back feel the switch. "But he did not know how to whip anybody."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, I been conjured," he said. "You see that left foot? Well, once +when I was a young 'buck', I was setting up to a gal and there was +another fellow setting up to her, too. I held a little bit the upper +hand with the gal. But when my left foot began to swell up and pain me, +I had to go to bed. I stayed there three months. Dr. Nott came to see me +and treated me with corn poultices, but they would dry up and fall off +and I didn't get any better. He lanced my foot three times, but nothing +but blood would come. One day a herb doctor came to see me and said he +could cure my foot. He took corn meal poultices, rhubarb roots and some +other things, and it wasn't long before my foot got well. About that +time, my mother found the 'conjuration' right in the front yard at the +door-steps. I must have stepped over it, or got my foot caught in it +some way. The 'conjuration' was, pins, feathers and something else all +tied up in a bag. My mother heard that if it was put in running water, +the conjurer would leave the country. So pretty soon after she put the +stuff in running water, that fellow left the country. He got his arm +caught in a cotton gin not long after he left, and got it chewed off +right to his shoulder.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Vegetables should be planted during the dark of the moon. One day, the +man I was working for told me he wanted his Irish potatoes planted. I +told him that wasn't the time to plant potatoes. He told me to plant +some in one particular place that day and call them his potatoes, then +when I thought the time was right, to plant the rest in another place. +His potatoes came up and made prettier vines than mine, had pretty +blooms on them and the vines grew very high. He ragged me about how fine +his potatoes were. He told me to gather the potatoes under my vines for +the house, but not to disturb his potatoes. For several days, the family +ate potatoes from my vines, then I gathered up the potatoes left. I got +five or six wheelbarrows full. I then dug his potatoes and got a little +more than one wheelbarrow full. He told me to plant the garden when I +thought the time was right, and not to say anything to him about when +and what to plant. I always had plenty of vegetables for his +family."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="easter-lockhart"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id38">Easter Lockhart</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Easter Lockhart (80)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">322 Hill Street, Gaffney, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Folks thinks that I was born round Easter, but that ain't so. March the +9th is what they always told me. The year I cannot recollect hearing, +but by my count that I keep I am running close to eighty years. White +folks give me my age to keep when I married, and I have kept it ever +since, so I cannot be far wrong.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It was the chief of police's grandpa that I knew and it was off his +place that my old man come from. I was born Easter Norris and I married +Nathan Lockhart when I was young, maybe fifteen, ain't sure about that. +He was a little older than me. In slavery I was born and my mother was +sold while I was a very young child, so they say. We then lived with Mr. +Clayton Clark. Freedom broke when I was around thirteen, and we then +went back to the Lockhart Plantation. There is where I nursed Henry, a +little baby. He is now the chief of police. Miss Bessie, his mother, had +me to clean up her yards for her.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Miss Bessie fixed me up to be baptized at the Limestone Baptist church. +It was then near Johnson Street and across from where Central school now +stands. It was a Negro church. We had to go to the spring pond called +Austin's Pond where all the baptizing took place in those days. Mr. +Austin had a mill there run by a big water wheel. The white folks +carried on their baptizing there, too. The first warm Sunday in May was +when I was baptized.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All Saturday I prayed and Miss Bessie told me what I was going to do, +and read to me from the Bible about baptizing and about John the Baptist +baptizing Christ. Yes sir, the Bible say Christ went down in the water, +in the waters of Jordan. Miss Bessie was telling my ma how to fix my +clothes while she was reading the Bible to me. All my clothes was white +but my shoes. In those days they did not have white shoes. I wore white +cotton stockings. I had a white dress to wear to the pond and I took two +pairs of white stockings. A crowd was to be baptized at 2:30 o'clock +that evening. The sun was good and hot. I went with my folks. Miss +Bessie went and all the white folks went to see their Negroes go under.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The dress I wore to the baptizing was starched so stiff it stood out. I +wore a white handkerchief over my head that Miss Bessie give me. On top +of that I had a white bonnet that had frills and tucks all over it. When +we got there the banks of Austin's Pond was lined with Negroes shouting +and singing glory and praises. They sang all the songs they could think +of and the preacher lined out songs to them. The people to be baptized +congregated before the preacher, and he told them what to do. Then we +went in and put on the clothes we was to go under in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I had a long white gown gathered from my shoulders and it had a big +kind of sleeves. On my head I wore a white cap and kept on my white +stockings, but I pulled off my black shoes. Never had no white shoes +that I know of way back then. I felt so good that I seemed to walk real +light. While we were getting in our baptizing clothes we shouted praises +as the people on the banks sang. Some of us jumped up. When my time come +I started to the pond and just before the preacher turned to take my +hand, I shouted 'Lord have Mercy' and clapped my hands over my head. +Somebody said, 'Dat child sho is gitting a new soul'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Down in the water I went. First it hit my ankles and then I felt the +hem of my skirts getting wet. I looked down and my gown was floating on +top the water. I took my hand and pushed it down. The preacher pulled me +to him and I went in water to my waist. I said 'Oh Lordy' when that +water hit my stomach. The preacher said, 'Now sister, you just hold your +breath and shut your mouth; trust in the Lord and don't act like a +grunting pig, but have faith'. Then the singing seemed far off and the +preacher's voice got deep. He put his big hand over my mouth and told me +to limber up my back. His other hand was under my back. He pushed me +over, and down in the water I went; then up I come. The preacher put a +towel over my face, and while I was getting water out of my eyes and +mouth, he was saying about the Lord done reached down from Heaven and +created a new soul. I felt real funny when I turned to walk up out of +the water. I could hardly walk for I had on so many clothes and they +were so heavy. As soon as I could I got into the clothes that I wore to +the baptizing and put on my black shoes and the pair of white stockings +that I had fetched with me. While aunt Kizie Lockhart was tying the +handkerchief around my head that Miss Bessie give me, I told her about +how I felt. She said, 'Why, sure child, ain't you done washed your sins +away and got converted?'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Then she grabbed me by the hand and we went out among the people +shouting praises to the Lord. I ain't never felt the same since. Aunt +Kizie took me round to say 'howdy' to Miss Bessie. When the preacher had +got them all baptized, we went into the church and had services. The +white folks went on home after the baptizing was over. At the church we +shouted till we could not shout no more. Folks don't like that now. They +don't feel good when they join the church no more, either. I ain't had +nothing to come against me since I was baptized. My head loses lots of +things, but not my religion.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lots of folks was at Mr. Henry's Pa's house for his infair dinner. Mr. +Hiram and Miss Bessie give the infair after the wedding. Miss Agnes, his +sister come back for the wedding. Mr. Henry had sharp snapping eyes and +he was good looking then. His eyes can still snap. When he looked at +Miss Mary his face would light up. Her name was Miss Mary Gilmer, and +she lived up near the lead mine. She sure looked good in white. I did +not see the wedding, so I had to look careful at them when they come in +Miss Bessie's front door so I could take it all in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The infair sure was fine. The table was most breaking down with turkey, +chicken, ham, salads, pies and cakes. All the things to eat, already +fixed on the plates, was fetched in from the kitchen by the Negroes. The +chickens and turkeys just set on the table for ornaments and was not +touched until the next day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The infair started at three o'clock in the afternoon. There were three +or four tables for the people to sit at. The dining room and one other +room were used to seat the guests at the tables while they ate. I can +still see Miss Bessie's white linen table cloth that reached nearly to +the floor. Such a time as I had the week before, washing and ironing the +big linen napkins and shining the silver.</p> +<p class="pnext">"They all looked mighty fine at the tables in their fine clothes. I +could not help looking often at Mr. Henry's wife. Miss Bessie had done +studied everything out so as it all went off fine."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="gable-locklier"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id39">Gable Locklier</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Uncle Gable Locklier, age 86</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Gourdin, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">H. Grady Davis and Mrs. Lucile Young, Florence, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I born in Clarendon county, 50 yards of Davis Station. Massa Henry +Bethune dat have big plantation dere was my first boss en after he died, +Mrs. Bethune sold everything en moved to Summerton. Stayed dere till she +married Mr. Thomas, de preacher, dat have big place in Summerton wid +trees in long row right up to de door. He bought place three miles from +Summerton called de Bashet place. Mrs. Bethune was a sport lady en was +good to me en Mr. Thomas good man too, but he was a Yankee. He come to +Summerton to be a school teacher en won' long fore he commence to escort +my Missus en dey made up in a year or two, I hear ma say. I was in de +kitchen en I hear dem. She told ma, 'Eliza, I gwine marry Mr. Thomas.' +Ma say, 'You is.' 'Yes, you reckon he gwine be all right?' 'I reckon he +is, he looks all right.' 'Well, I gwine marry him en try him.' Mr. +Thomas, he Yankee, but he fought for de Confederates.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa Henry Bethune had big plantation en had a right sharp of slaves +dere. De boss house was here en my house next en all de other slave +house was string along in row dat way. My white folks, dey didn' exactly +treat you as most of dem did. Dey come round en examine you house en see +what you needed. All us live in two room pole house dat have a wood +floor. Old people sleep on some kind of bed prop wid rope wind up like +cow yoke en have quilts en mattresses taking white homespun. De others +sleep on de floor. Dey give us good clothes made out of blue denim cloth +en some had checked or stripe goods. Den dey give us heavy woolen +clothes to wear in de winter time en had Sunday clothes too. My Massa +was good to his slaves all de time. Have own garden dat my mother en +sister would work en my mother done all de cookin for de slaves 'cause +our folks all eat out de same pot. Cook rice en fat meat en dese collard +greens en corn bread en cabbage. Make plenty of de cabbage en eat heap +of dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I didn' never have to work hard, but dey work dem till dark come on +some places. Dey blow horn en us go to work after daylight en sometimes +get off in time to eat supper by sundown. I was so slow dat when de rest +knock off, dey make me work on. Mr. Thomas, he stand en look at me. My +hands just look like dey put on wrong. When I quit off, I eat supper en +den I go to bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I ain' never see any slaves punished but I hear tell 'bout it. Some of +dem run away 'cause dey get tired of workin en if dey catch em, dey sho +whip em. Used to have to get ticket from boss or Missus to go any place +off de plantation widout you get punish for it. I hear tell 'bout de +overseer en de driver whip plenty of de slaves en some of de time, dey +would put em in de screw box over night. Sell em if dey didn' do like +dey tell em to do. Speculator come dere to buy slaves en dey sell em to +de highest bidder. I hear em say a certain one bring $1400 or $1500. I +know a man offered my boss $1000 for my brother, Joe, but he wouldn' +sell him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My Massa would give me money now en den. First money I remember he give +me was 75¢ paper money. He tell me to check his horse en bring him up to +de yard en give me 75¢ en said, 'I can' carry you wid me dis mornin.' I +was 'bout 9 or 10 years old den. I stood up on de block en wondered why +he couldn' carry me en when I go back to de house, I see my Missus cryin +en she say, 'We won' see him no more.' When he come back, he shot +through de foot. He tell me to go to de blacksmith shop en bring +crutches. Den he went to de war again en when he come back, he was shot +on de right side of de neck. Give me a quarter in silver money dat time. +I ain' never been to de store fore den, but I go to de storekeeper en I +say, 'Mr. King, half dis money mine en half Joes.' I thought it was his +place to give me what I wanted en when I walk out, he say, 'Come back en +get your money,' I carried it home en give it to brother Joe en he give +it to pa en don' know what come of it after dat. Bought plug of tobacco +for pa wid de other money I had.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our folks didn' get no learnin much nowhe' in dem days, but my Missus +sister child learn me right sharp. Dey was boardin at our house en when +I started to school, I didn' have no trouble. I remembers I found a +little book one time en man say he pay me 10¢ for it. Ma give me a +needle en thread en little sack en I sew my 10¢ in it. Put it in de +rafter en it stay dere till next Christmas. Believe I took it down en +tote it a long time fore man come by sellin tobacco en I bought piece en +give it to pa. Man give my sister bigger piece for a dime den he give +me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De slaves what belong to my white folks have frolicsome days all +through de year. Go to frolic on Saturday en go to white folks church on +Sunday en sit in portion of church in de gallery. Den on Christmas eat +en drink de best liquor dere was en de Fourth of July de one day dat dey +have to go to [HW: Eutaw] Springs. Dey go in buggies en wagons en have +plenty of everything to eat dat day. I know dere was a battle up dere, +although I didn' never go wid em. Cotton pickin en corn shuckin days +won' no work times, dey was big frolics. De first one shuck red corn had +to tell who his best girl was en all dem things. All dem come to cotton +pickin dat want to en pick cotton en cook big dinner. Pick cotton till +'bout 5:30 in de evenin' en den knock off for de eats en de dancin. Go +to all de slaves weddings too. Dey would mostly get married 'bout on a +Sunday evenin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was 'bout 15 year old when freedom come, but I don' remember much +'bout dat day. I remembers de Yankees come to de house one day. De white +folks had a bull dog tied in de smoke house en one Yankee hold de gun on +de dog en another take de meat out de house. Den dey come out en set +table en eat. Dog didn' try to bite em 'cause dog know when to bite. +Somebody ask em to have some rice en dey say, 'I would cut my throat +fore I eat dat thing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I tell you de truth wid de treatment I been gettin I don' see why I +could fought slavery time. I lives here by myself en I used to get check +but check don' come no more en I just lives on what people gets me. +Government got woman bring me wood en bucket of water en niece give me +dis house en acre of land to live on my lifetime. Cook only one meal a +day 'cause I can' afford it. De water I got it ever since yesterday +mornin. Sunday mornin I had hominy en salt water fish en dat de last +time I had good meal. (Wednesday afternoon). Lady tell me dere ain' +gwine be no more checks. It be two months since I get check en lady come +en I tell her I hungry en she go to Gourdin en buy me two cans en loaf +of bread. Had two big watermelons en was saving one for Miss Lanes. Girl +come runnin in en say my niece house on fire en I go runnin to see 'bout +fire en my biggest watermelon gone. Dat de one I been saving for Miss +Lanes en den I wake up on Friday mornin en de other one gone. Next thing +I know, dey started on my late ones. One night woman come in patch en +thump en thump. I was standin at de peach tree in de patch en she have +one en when she get near me, she stoop down en pick another. I say, 'You +reckon dat one ripe?' She sho drop em en run dat time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Thank you, sir, your kindness will not be forgotten. Dis here dozen +matches last me till next week.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Good-by. Yunnah come back."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="walter-long"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id40">Walter Long</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Walter Long, 83 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">2440 Sumter Street, Columbia, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Henry Grant, Columbia, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I's a little bit stiff, when I tries to git up, and sometimes when I's +walkin' I weaves and wobbles like a drunk person, but know all dat comes +from old age. I has been healthy and strong all my life. De onliest +trouble I has ever had in my life has been wid my teeth; they sho' has +been bad a long time, and now I has only one or two old snags left. I +don't want no store bought teeth nohow, 'cause they 'minds me of a hoss +or mule wid a bit in their mouth floppin' up and down. No sir, I don't +want them triflin' things botherin' me, I think I can take care of de +little I gits to eat wid dese few snags I has left.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Me and all my folks was slaves and b'longs to Master John Long, and his +wife, Betsy Long. Their plantation was six miles north of Chapin, +Lexington County, South Carolina. De plantation was a big one and lay +'long Saluda River. You know it had to be a big place 'cause master had +over three hundred slaves in all. Everything de slaves needed was made +right dere on de plantation; all de food 'cept sugar and coffee, and +what us need to wear, 'cept buttons for de clothes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Master and mistress raised four fine boys, no girls I 'members 'bout. +De boys names was: West, Mid, Gradon and Hill. Master West and Mid +served as overseers on de plantation. Dese boys being de overseers, was +de whole reason us slaves was treated good and kind. They knowed us +slave would b'long to them some day, when old Master John died. De +slaves never worked hard, and they was give every Saturday and Sunday to +rest.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our food in slavery time was good and a lot of it. De food was cooked +good and prepared for us by servants dat didn't do nothin' else but +'tend to de food dat de rest of de slaves had to eat. When us had beef +us went to de pasture for it; when us had pork, us went to de hog lot. +De cabbage and turnips come from de garden and field dere at home, and +when us was eatin' them us knowed they didn't come from out yonder, like +de stuff us has to eat dese days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De houses us slaves lived in was built of logs and then de logs was +covered over inside and out wid plank, dat made them tight and warm. +Every family was furnished plenty of covering, so they wouldn't suffer +in cold weather but in summer de most of us slept on pallets on de +floor.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Master John was a business man, but he never got too busy to be polite +and gentle to mistress. Both of them has good schoolin'. They knowed +just how to treat both their slaves and their white friends. They was +good to all, and they never turnt anybody down dat come to them for +help. Many was de poor white folks dat 'most lived on Master John. They +was what I calls, real white folks; no sich people is easy found dese +days by de poor niggers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mistress was mighty 'ticular 'bout our 'ligion, 'cause she knowed dere +was no nigger any too good nohow. Us slaves 'sorbed all de good us had +in us from our mistress, I really believes. She was so kind and gentle, +she moved 'mong us a livin' benediction. Many was de blessings dat fell +from her hands for de sick and 'flicted. She got tired, but I has never +seen her too weary to go to a cryin' child or a moanin' grown person on +de place and 'quire what was de matter. Us was 'bliged to love her, +'cause she knowed us more better than us knowed ourselves. More than +dat, she and her sons' wives teached us how to read, write and figure, +'nough to help us in small business.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When did I git married? I wish you hadn't ask dat question. I sho' had +a bad mixup wid my first gal. You see it was dis way: I was good grown +befo' I left my daddy and mammy who was then farmin' for Master Mid +Long, on the other side of Saluda River. My mammy had a heap of sense +dat she got from de white folks. So, one day while me and she was +pickin' cotton out in de field she all at once stopped pickin' cotton, +straightened up, pointed her finger at me and said: 'Look here nigger, +you knows I don't like for you to be gwine to see dat brown skin gal +what lives over yonder on Cling Creek. After I has raised you up de best +I knowed how and then for you to do like you is, foolin' your time 'way +wid such sorry women makes your old mammy sick and mad all over. One +other thing I wants to say to you is dat some of dese nights when you go +to see dat gal, you is gwine to see something dat is sho' goin' to call +to your mind what I's sayin' to you.' Well boss, you know how 'tis wid +men. I knowed mammy could give good 'vice, and I knowed she sho' +wouldn't do me no harm. But what 'bout dat I's gwine to see some nights +when I go to see dat gal? So I thinks and thinks 'bout dat two or three +days and never did satisfy my mind what dat something gwine look like.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Late one evenin', close to sunset, several days after mammy said what +she did to me, I kinda loafed off down to de cross-road store, 'tending +I was gwine after some 'bacco. I fool 'round de store a good long while +like I didn't have nothin' on my mind 'cept my 'bacco. I had a plenty on +my mind, 'cause as dark come I headed up de Cling Creek road towards dat +gal's house. When I got close to her house I seen her down at de fence +in front of de house. Soon as she glimpsed me, she 'tended like she was +lookin' for something dat wasn't dere. I knowed what she was lookin' +for, 'cause women has got their own 'culiar way of foolin' men; keepin' +them from knowin' what they are thinkin' 'bout. Dat gal knowed all de +time in dat little kinky head of hers dat I was goin' to see her dat +night. When I spoke to her she didn't 'pear to be de least bit +frightened or surprised.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Quick as a cat she climbed up and set down on top of de fence, while +from de other side I leaned against it, close by. Dere she was smilin' +just as shy and skittish as a squirrel. Us stayed right dere and talked +and talked 'bout everything we knowed 'bout and a heap we didn't know +'bout, 'til de big yellow moon stood straight up, befo' I said farewell +to her and begun makin' my way down de big road towards home.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I went on down de road whistling wid nothin' on my mind 'cept dat gal. +When I got 'bout a mile from home I seen a woman wid a basket on her +arm, a little piece ahead, comin' towards me. Just as I turnt to let her +pass I kinda raised my hand to my hat to speak. But bless your soul, I +ain't seen dat woman no more. I stopped and looked everywhere and dere +was nobody in dat road 'cept me. Well, dere you is. What does all dis +mean nohow? So de more I thought de more a 'culiar feelin' crept over my +body. Then I say: 'Here I is been lookin' for hants and spirits all my +life and I ain't never seen one befo' dis one.' By dis time dat 'culiar +feelin' had reached my foots and they got to movin' 'bout uneasy like. +Dis ain't gwine to do I said and wid dat I tore off down de road faster +than a wild hoss. White man, I believes I run de first hundred yards in +nearly no time and after dat I kinda picked up a bit. I begun to feel +dat I wasn't makin' as good time in de road as I ought to be makin' so I +cut 'cross de field towards a narrow strip of woods close to home. When +my foots hit de rough grass and corn stalks of de field they took holt +then and got to bird-working<a class="footnote-reference pginternal" href="#id5" id="id4"><sup>2</sup></a>, smooth and nice like machinery. I +thought I heard something back of me, I glanced back to see what it was +and befo' I could git my head straight again I smacked head on into a +pine tree as big as I is. Well, my runnin' ceasted right dere, de big +yellow moon went dark, a breeze fanned my face, and then everything got +still.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De next mornin' when my mind come back to me, de sun was shinin' +straight in my face. I lay dere on de ground blinkin' my eyes, wonderin' +if I was still livin'. After a while I tried to move and sho' 'nough I +was dere all right.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After de war de most of us slaves stayed on de plantation and worked +right on just like nothin' had happened. I lived with my mammy and daddy +a long time after I was grown. Old master and mistress died soon after +de war and then my family went to live wid young Master Mid on his +plantation on de other side of Saluda River.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I got some over thirty years old I got married and then I left de +farm, moved lower down in Lexington County and went to work at a +sawmill. I worked in de sawmill business 'bout twenty-five years. +Rollin' big logs to de saw wid a kanthook ain't no easy job, but it was +better to do dat than nothin'. I made a pretty good livin' but didn't +save no money, 'cause money was scarce in them days, nobody was paid +much for their labor in them times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Soon after I quit working in de sawmill business I moved to Columbia +and has been here every since. De white folks has been pretty good to me +here, 'cause I has had work most all de time. I has always been able to +pay my bills and support my family right good. I believes de reason of +dat is, I has never bothered nobody, and attended to my own little +business as best as I knowed. Even now, as old as I is, I can git work +from my white friends 'most all de time, dat's right.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Did I marry dat first gal what mammy fussed wid me 'bout? Listen at +dat. No sir, I ain't seen dat gal in 'bout fifty years and I don't know +if she is dead or not."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="gillam-lowden"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id41">Gillam Lowden</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Gillam Lowden (75)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Greenwood, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was born at Greenwood, S.C. about 1862. I can't 'member anything +'bout de Confederate War or anything right after de war. I heard my +mammy and daddy talk 'bout de patrollers but I don't know much. My daddy +was Abram Lowden and my mammy was Sidney Williams dat married my daddy. +Our marster in slavery was Dr. Davis, and his wife, our mistress, was +Miss Martha Davis. Dey didn't learn us to read and write.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de war, my mammy always done washing on Sad'day atternoons, and +us little chaps helped to tote water and bring her wood. I 'member de +old brick oven our marster had. Dey cooked lots of bread on Sad'day +atternoons to last several days. Den we had corn-shuckings, de women had +quiltings.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us chaps didn't play many games 'cept marbles, rope-skipping, and +jumping high rope. We didn't git to go to school.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some of de cures dey made was from gypsum weed, which was boiled into a +tea and drunk. Thread-salve buds was picked and strung on thread like a +necklace, den put around de neck to keep off chills.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I jined de church when I was 31 years old, because I was seeking +salvation. I wanted God to release me from my sins and dat was de way I +had to do it. We can't git along widout Jesus.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never did think anything 'bout Jeff Davis or Abraham Lincoln, and +don't know nothing 'bout Booker Washington."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="emma-lowran"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id42">Emma Lowran</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Emma Lowran</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">550 Horseshoe St., Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">A colored woman who states she was about four years old during slavery +times, states she doesn't remember much about those days, except what +her mother told her. Her mother was a slave and was given to Bill Smith, +otherwise known as "Big-eyed Smith", and they used to live on his +plantation somewhere between Glenn Springs and Spartanburg. The actual +possession of her mother was 'vested in Mrs. Bill Smith, as the mother +was presented to Mrs. Smith by her father. Her mother's work was around +the house, such as cleaning house, washing, milking the cows etc.; but +she never had to do the cooking for the Smith family. The source states +that she and the other children of slaves used to play in the sand and +have a good time—just as all children do. Sometimes Mr. Smith would go +to whip her mother for some reason, but Mrs. Smith wouldn't let him do +so, for she told her husband that the woman belonged to her and she was +not going to have her whipped. However, she stated she does not remember +ever seeing Big Eyed Smith whipping any slave, for his wife would always +stop him. As a whole, she and her mother were treated very kindly, +though at times they did not have enough to eat. Mrs. Smith would always +tell her mother who was milking to give the children plenty of milk. +This woman was too young to remember anything about the Yankee soldiers +coming to their place, but one day a black man came by the house and +told her mother she was now free. She states her mother continued to +work for Mr. Smith after she was set free. She was sent to school where +she learned to read and write, but when she became older, she came to +Spartanburg to live, because it looked like in the country, no one could +get a doctor out there until he or she was about dead; so she wanted to +be in town where she could get a doctor when she got sick.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="nellie-loyd"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id43">Nellie Loyd</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">I</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Nellie Loyd</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was born in Union County, S.C., near Goshen Hill, about 91 years ago. +I belonged to Mr. George Buchanan. He went to the war and got his right +arm shot off. After the war, his sons moved to Oklahoma. He was good to +his slaves, and never allowed any negro under 12 years of age to work in +the fields. I helped around the house until I was 12 years old.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The soldiers were called 'minute men'. They had wide hats with palmetto +buttons in front. They sometimes mustered at Goshen Hill. Some of the +slaves was hanged for stealing, but my master never hanged any.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married Nozby Loyd soon after the war, and had three children. I come +to Newberry about thirty years ago, and have worked with white families +or in the fields."</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">II</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Nellie Loyd (91)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I lived wid Albert and Carrie Coleman. Dey is no kin, but dey give me a +place to live. I am too old to work much, but I does what I can to help.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born near Goshen Hill in Union County, and I was a slave of Marse +George Buchanan. He give us good quarters to live in and plenty to eat. +He was a good master. I believe he never whipped any slaves, for I never +did hear of it if he did, and he never allowed anybody else to whip dem +either.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My grand-mother's mother come from Virginia. It was said she was kin to +de Indians.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I worked around de house most of de time. My mother cooked at de home +of Marse George. She kept de keys to de smokehouse where dar was always +plenty of home-raised smoked meat. Marse made his own flour, too. He +made salt by digging a deep hole in de ground and getting de mud dat had +salt in it. We never had our own gardens, but we had small watermelon +patches. Marse had a big garden.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse had a blacksmith shop and he used charcoal in it. To make de +charcoal he would cut down pine trees and pile de big limbs up and put +dirt over dem; den burn de limbs and dat would leave de charcoal. He +would pour water over it den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some of Marse Buchanan's boys went to war, and some of dem got killed. +Dey had patrollers den, and if dey caught you off de place dey would +have twelve men to whip you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We never worked at night except sometimes when it rained and we had to +get de corn shucked or de fodder hauled to de barn. Sometimes we picked +cotton by de light of de moon. We worked on Saturday afternoons but not +on Sundays. On Christmas we had a good time and good things to eat. De +men would drink beer and whiskey. Beer was made from locusts and +persimmons, and everybody would drink some of it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De slaves never learned to read and write. Dey never had any churches, +but dey had to go to church and so dey went to de white folks' church +and set in de back or de gallery. Niggers had lots of dancing and +frolics. Dey danced de 'flat-foot'. Dat was when a nigger would slam his +foot flat down on de floor. De wooden bottom shoes sho would make a loud +noise. At weddings everybody would eat and frolic.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We had our own leather made and tanned at home; den it was tacked to de +wood soles to make shoes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When anybody got sick, de old folks made hot teas from herbs dat dey +got out of de woods. One was a bitter herb called 'rhu'. It was put in +whiskey and drunk to prevent sickness. Marse always give it to de nigger +children, and to de grown ups, too. Dey hung asafetida bags around de +necks of de kids to keep down sickness.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When freedom come, Marse said we was free, but he kept us till dat crop +was finished, and some of de niggers stayed on for several years and +worked for wages.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De yankees come through our section, and Marse hid his meat and things +in deep holes dat he dug in de cemetery. He built a fence around de +cemetery. De yankees took good horses and left poor ones. Dey made +niggers cook for dem all night. De Ku Klux wore white clothes and white +caps. Dey made out dey was ghosts from de cemetery, and dey would get a +man and carry him off, and we never would see him again. De Red Shirts +come in '76. I 'member my husband voted once or twice. He was a +Republican; but dey soon put a stop to dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I think Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson must have been all right; just +heard about them. Dey said dat Jeff Davis surrendered under a June apple +tree. Just heard about Booker Washington and dat is all I know. Reckon +he is doing good work.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I joined de church when I was quite young, because meningitis was in de +neighborhood killing so many folks and I got scared.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de war de niggers started up hill; den went back. Since dat time +up to now, dey has been working most on farms. Some rent small farms and +some work as wage hands or share-croppers. Dem dat went to town have +worked as carpenters and other such work.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I can't 'member anything more, except dat marse had a still-house on +his place, and other farmers did, too. Dey made brandy and whiskey from +peaches, apples and grapes dat dey raised; den sold it to other farmers +in de neighborhood who didn't have as much as dey did."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="amie-lumpkin"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id44">Amie Lumpkin</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Amie Lumpkin, 88 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">1411 Pine St. Columbia, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Stiles M. Scruggs, Columbia, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was born on de plantation of Master John Mobley, in Fairfield County, +South Carolina, in 1849. Both my parents was slaves on that plantation +at that time. Master Mobley had a big farm and he had many slaves and +chillun when I began to understand things there. My daddy worked in de +field, but my mammy worked in de big house, helpin' to cook.</p> +<p class="pnext">"There was pretty good order on de plantation, generally at de time in +1856, when I was 'bout seven years old. Most of de slaves go right along +doin' their chores, as expected of them, but a few was restless, and +they break de rules, by runnin' 'bout without askin', and always there +was one or two who tried to escape slavery by goin' far away to the +North.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'member seein' one big black man, who tried to steal a boat ride from +Charleston. He stole away one night from Master Mobley's place and got +to Charleston, befo' he was caught up with. He tell the overseer who +questioned him after he was brought back: 'Sho', I try to git away from +this sort of thing. I was goin' to Massachusetts, and hire out 'til I +git 'nough to carry me to my home in Africa.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"It was de rule when a trial was bein' held lak this, for all de bosses +and sometimes de missus to be there to listen and to ask the run'way +slave some questions. After this one talked, it was Missus Mobley +herself who said; 'Put yourself in this slave's shoes, and what would +you do? Just such as he has. The best way to treat such a slave is to be +so kind and patient with him, that he will forget his old home.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"He was led away and I never did hear if he was whipped. He lak a +Cherokee Indian, he never whimper if he should be whipped 'til de blood +stream from him; but I do know he never got away again. He was de first +one to pick up his hat and laugh loud, when President Lincoln set all +slaves free in January, 1863. He say: 'Now I go, thank de Lord, and he +strike right out, but he not git much beyond de barn, when he turn and +come back. He walked in de yard of de big house, and he see Missus +Mobley lookin' out at him. He take off his hat and bow low and say:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Missus, I so happy to be free, that I forgits myself but I not go 'til +you say so. I not leave you when you needs a hand, 'less de master and +all de white folks gits home to look after you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De missus look down at her feet end she see de black man, so big and +strong, sheddin' tears. She say to him: 'You is a good nigger and you +has suffered much; make yourself at home, just as you have been doin' +and when you want to go far away, come to me and I'll see that you git +'nough money to pay your way to Boston and maybe to Africa.' And that is +what happen' a year or two later.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My daddy go 'way to de war 'bout this time, and my mammy and me stay in +our cabin alone. She cry and wonder where he be, if he is well, or he be +killed, and one day we hear he is dead. My mammy, too, pass in a short +time. I was sixteen when Sherman's army come through Fairfield County. I +see them ridin' by for hours, some of them laughin' and many of them has +big balls in their hands, which they throw against de house and it +explode and burn de house.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I have always 'spected that am just de way they set de houses when +Columbia was burned in a single night. Some of de houses in Fairfield +was burned, some in Winnsboro, and others in de country, but Columbia +was de only place that was wiped out. As de army pass, we all stand by +de side of de road and cry and ask them not to burn our white folks' +house, and they didn't.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I came to Columbia in 1868, and for a time I cooked in one or two of de +hotels, then running in Columbia. About 1878, I was employed as cook in +de home of de late W.A. Clark, and I stayed there, in de servant's +quarters, on de place 'til I became too feeble to continue.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It has been one of de big pleasures of my life that I has so many fine +white friends, and so far as I knows, de good will of all de black folks +as well. While workin' at Mr. Clark's home, which stood in a fine grove +of magnolias at the corner of Elmwood Avenue and Park Street I never +thought I should live to see it fade away. But you know it did, since de +big stone mansion was torn away and de Junior High School now stands in +that grove.</p> +<p class="pnext">"While there, I think it was about thirty years service, I saw many of +de leading white folks of de city and state, as guests there; they, at +least many of them, still befriend me. De remnants of de Clark family +treat me fine when they see me, and sometimes they drive by to see me. +Of course, I had a pretty nice little roll of money when I got too old +to work reg'larly but it has all been spent since. One day I's thinkin' +'bout it and I recalls de sayin' of my Missus Mobley. She say: 'Money +has wings and it soon fly away.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"For de last twelve years now, I has been de guest of Missus Ruth Neal, +a fine Christian woman and a teacher in de public schools. She always +treat me just as though I be her mother. My white friends have not +forgot me to date and they enable me to live, without too much aid from +my present benefactor. Her chillun, all in school now, call me 'Auntie.' +Lookin' over my life it seems to me, I has done de best I could to live +right and I have a hope that when de summons comes my Lord will say: +'Well done, Amie.'"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ballam-lyles"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id45">Ballam Lyles</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with "Uncle" Ballam Lyles (74)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Carlisle, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Likker puts de wrong ideas in people's haids. I see dat ever since de +time I shed my shirt tail. When dey gits likker in dem, dey thinks dey +is important as de president. All o' 'em wants to act like millionairs. +And if de truth be known, ain't narry one uv 'em worth killing. Likker +jes' brings 'em down to dat. It'll do anybody like dat. It don't make no +difference how rich dey is nor how white dey is. It'll sho' ruin 'em. +And de niggers, it does dem de same way, 'cept dey don't have as far +down to come as de white folks does. And dat's de reason I ain't got no +use fer no likker.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I was a lil shirt-tail boy, I recollects our soldiers gwine from +house to house wid packs on dere backs. Dey was de awfullest looking +white folks dat us had ever seed. Dat picture still stay right clear in +my mind, even if I is a old man wid everything a growing dim. Dey sot up +a camp at Marse's Bill Oxner's place—dat in Goshen Hill and ain't +nothing much left dar fer you to see now. Dem soldiers never had nothing +in dere packs but a few old rags and maybe a lil keepsake from de women +folks back home what dey loved. Dere hair was dat long and stringy dat +it was all matted around de face and neck. 'Cause in dem days, all de +fine white mens wore beards, kaise dat was de fashion. But dem soldiers' +beards looked wusser dan dere hair. Dere faces carried de awfullest look +what you is ever seed on any man's face. Dere clothes looked wusser dan +any darky's clothes had looked 'fo de war. None o' dem never had no +garments a fittin 'em. Us'd look out and say, 'Yonder comes some mo' o' +dem old lousy soldiers.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wheeler's soldiers come to Mr. Oxner's place and burnt de crib and tuck +all our corn and jes' wasted it. Den dey tuck our meat and carried on +something scandalous. Dey stayed a day or two and when dey had 'stroyed +everything and scared us all half to death, dey went on somewheres +else."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="eison-lyles"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id46">Eison Lyles</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Eison Lyles (73)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Santuc, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">REMINISCENCES</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey comes slow—dem things you calls recollects, or whatever it is; but +I knows what I is talking about, dat I does. My daddy named Aaron Lyles. +Him and Betsy Lyles was my parents. She come from Virginia. Deir white +folks, de Lyles, brought dem from Virginia to Maybinton, S.C.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was too little to know much of de old war, but jes' can remember +living wid Mr. Alf Wright when de horn blow, saying dat de war was done +over. I thought Jedg'ment Day done come!</p> +<p class="pnext">"I soon learn't to put up 'hopper'. Dat was hanging up strong ash wood +and hickory ashes in a bag dat was wet, so dat de lye would drip out in +a box whar soap was made. When de moon got right, de grease was biled +off de bones and put in de lye; den it was cooked up into soap. It was +done on de increase of de moon and only a sassafras stick was used for +stirring. De soap maker stirred from her all de time. When a real hopper +was made, it was in a V shape, wid a trough underneath for de drippings. +Dat is all of de kind of soap folks had in dem hard times. If it was too +strong when you took a bath, de skin would come off. Hard soap was used +for washing, and soft soap for clothes. Another thing we did wid lye, +was to shell corn and put de grains in lye and clean it. When it come +white, we called it 'hominy'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Things slip me sometimes, dat is, dey slips my memb'ance. I reckons dat +old Gordam Mill was run by water, down yonder on Tyger River. Tyger +separates Maybinton from Goshen Hill. Mr. Bill Oxner had de post office, +and he lived up in a big grove whar de squirrels was real tame and loved +to play.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When we lived on de old Lyons place I got acquainted wid Mr. Bob Lyons. +His family refuged from Charleston to Maybinton during de war, and dey +stayed dar until he died; den his folks went back to Charleston. I +know'd Mr. Jim Thomas, den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My father went from dat to Herbert's. We had it hard dar. Had so many +ups and downs, and de overseer was hard on us, too. As to age, I ain't +so sho about my right age, but I been old enough to sleep by myself for +a long time. Folks knows me well and I stands well wid dem, and I tries +to stand well wid God. My name was down in de old Lyles Bible, but it +done burn't now. Miss Ellen done dead and ain't none of my set of Lyles +living dat I knows de wharabouts of. I was born over on de Newberry +side, so dey says; but dat don't matter, I knows de Union side jes' as +well.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I lived wid Mr. Byars at Herbert's on a big plantation. Oh, Lawdy, I +couldn't remember how many plows dey run down dar. I was gitting big +enough to go to see de gals, and I sho had to walk a fur ways to see +'em. De first buggy in dat country belonged to Mr. Epps Tucker. He had a +net to go on de horse to keep de flies off'n him. Dat's de first horse +wid a net on him to come to Gilliam's Chapel.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I run around four or five years for nature and for fun. Had in mind +picking a wife, and I got one dat I like de looks of in about four +years. Us up and married. I know'd Dr. Cofield, Dr. Geo. Douglas, Dr. +Peak Gilliam and men like dat. Things run along all right till de night +of August 31, 1886. Dat night dis old man prayed, 'O Lawd, come down, we +need You. We need You and we need You bad. Ain't no time for chillun's +foolishness, so don't send your Son, Jesus Christ, kaise it's You we +needs. Dat earth sho was shaking everywhars, and things was falling. De +Lawd or something had things by de hand dat night. Next day de Lawd +heard folks prayers and stopped dat earth's gwines on. Of all de ups and +downs, I spec dat was de worst scared I ever was.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter dat us built St. Luke, and we had logs for seats. We marched +together and sung: 'Let's go down to de water and be baptized. I +promised de Lawd dat I'd be baptized when St. Luke was finished. 'Ligion +is so sweet, 'ligion is so sweet.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Little boys watched us while us was building St. Luke's. Dey would play +in de branch and sing: 'Little boy wouldn't swim, kaise leather tacked +to his shoe'. Den dey would catch hands and jump up and down on de bank +and sing: 'Loop de la—loop de loop de la; Deacon coming out, deacon +coming out.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den all would run to de shade trees and put on deir clothes. And when +us finished St. Lukes, such a baptizing as us had! All of us marched +down to de pool while we sung:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Let's go down to de water and be baptized.</div> +<div class="line">'Ligion is so sweet, I's promised de Lawd I'd be baptized;</div> +<div class="line">'Ligion is so sweet, and I's promised de Lawd I'd be baptized."</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="moses-lyles"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id47">Moses Lyles</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Moses Lyles, 81 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Moses Lyles lives in the section of Fairfield County that borders on +Broad River. He lives in a two-room house, of the 'saddlebag' type, with +his wife, Carrie, and his daughter, Carita. The home is the ordinary +tenant house of a Negro in the South. Pictures, cut out of the +illustrated Sunday editions of newspapers, are used to decorate the +inside walls of the rooms. There are two windows to each room, which are +closed with plank shutters. The floors are clean and yellowed from much +scouring and sweeping. On the outside is a tiny walk to the house, +bordered on either side by rows of jonquils. And about the yard are +'butter and egg' flowers, that were so much in vogue in slavery times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes sir, I was a slave. I b'long to Dr. John J. McMahon, dat is, my +mammy was his cook. My father b'long to Marse Thomas Lyles. Deir +plantations jined and folks could see 'cross de fields from one house to +another. I never hear 'bout any trouble dat was caused by pappy comin' +every so often to see and be wid my mammy.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mistress name Sarah. Her and Marster John was de father and mother +of young Marster John J. McMahon, a lawyer. My old marster and mistress +have two girls, Miss Annie and Miss Lillie, dat was livin' when Marster +die. Just a few weeks after he die, here come young Marse John into a +troubled land, in de last year of de war, '65. What you think of dat? +Niggers 'low dat's what give him de power dat him have. You never hear +'bout dat? Well, they do say, when a male child come after de father's +death, dat male child gwine to be a big man in all sorts of ways. How +was him great? What did him do? Why everything. Widout a daddy and +widout money, him got to be a 'fessor in de college and a lawyer. He +tell de judge what's what in dat very court house over yonder. Git to be +de head of all de teachers in de State and show them how to learn de +chillun. He come back sometimes and show farmers how to farm. Know how +to cure my dog of de mange, show my wife how to cure her chickens dat +had de 'pip', and tell us what to do if ever a cow git sick wid de +hollow horn or de hollow tail. Why, Marse John could count all de stars +in de sky, tell you deir names while settin' on de top rail of de lot +fence at night; git up de nex' mornin', look 'round and say whether it +gonna rain or not, dat day. He not tell by de sky, but just go out, run +his fingers through de grass, and dat grass tell him, somehow, it gonna +rain or it not gonna rain. How him love dat old place, and de Salem +cross road and Monticello. Him was riding high in de saddle of might and +power down dere in Columbia. Him come home and say to me and Carrie: 'I +love dis old place, wid its red hills and gullies, its pine trees, ash +trees, hickory trees and scaly bark trees, de berry weeds and thistles +'bout de barnyard fence and I want to be buried up here, not in +Columbia, so dat de weeds and grasses, dat I walk on when a boy, might +grow over me when I's dead.' Then him say: 'Mose does you know how to +castrate and spay pigs?' I say: 'I does not.' Him say: 'Time for you to +learn.' Us and de hands go out to de lot and wid de guff, guff, guff and +guffin' of de old hogs and de squealin' of de pigs, him take all +patience and learn me spayance and castration.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy, as I might have told you, was Henry Lyles and my mammy, Mary +Woodward. My brudders and sisters was John, Henry, Martha, Sallie, Jim, +and de baby of all, Bill. Bill and me is de only ones livin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day I was plowin' 'long and a thinkin' a whole lot of foolishness +'bout social 'quality dat was bein' preached to us by de leaders of de +Radical 'Publican party, which I b'longed to. Nigger men lak dat kinda +talk, nigger women didn't lak it so much. They fear dat if nigger man +have a chance to git a white wife, they would have no chance wid de +nigger men. They was sure dat no white man would take a black wife, +'ceptin' it be a poor white trash man and then if they git one of them, +him would beat her and work her harder than in slavery time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I git to de end of de row, I say: 'Whoa!' I turns my back to de +plowstock, ketches my hands on de handles and say to myself: 'De great +Moses in de Bible have a black wife. What is good 'nough for him is just +too good for me.' Then Carrie flit through my mind, as I see her de last +time in a red pokeberry dyed dress, a singin': 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot, +Jesus Gonna Carry Me Home'. Then I think 'bout dat word 'carry' in de +tune and dat word 'home' in de song and dat word 'me' twist and 'tween +them two words 'carry' and 'home', I says: 'Come 'round here, mule. Dat +sun soon go down; ain't got long here for to stay. You got to eat and +you's got to trot and I's got to ride. You's got to carry me to see +Carrie.' I went dat night and ask her for to be my wife. Her say: 'Dis +is mighty sudden, Mose. When de idea fust come to you?' Then I tell her +and she laugh. What she laugh 'bout? Laugh at de fool things I tell her +and de very joy of de moment.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us marry dat fall and have had nine chillun. Who they? Dere's Henry, +Tozier, Lydia, McGee, Nancy, Tolliver, Bessie, May, and Carita. Carita +name Carrie for her mammy but her loll it 'bout her tongue and change it +to Carita.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Old Marse Dr. John McMahon was of de buckra type. Freedom come too +soon. De nigger was de right arm of de buckra class. De buckra was de +horn of plenty for de nigger. Both suffer in consequence of +freedom."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="george-mcalilley"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id48">George McAlilley</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with George McAlilley, 84 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">George McAlilley lives with his son-in-law, daughter, and small +grandchildren, in a one-room frame house, with a lean-to shed room +annex. The annex has no fireplace, no window, is ten feet by eight feet +in dimension and it is in this pen that George and the two small +children sleep. The house is three miles north of the town of Winnsboro, +set back in a cotton field, 500 yards east of US #21.</p> +<p class="pnext">George gathers the firewood from the neighboring woods, picks +blackberries in summer, and assists in the harvesting of cotton from the +fields in September.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You think I feeble? Looks is 'ceivin' sometimes. Dere is some stren'th +in me yet. Just set a nice dish of collards, fat back, corn bread, and +buttermilk befo' dis old nigger and you can see what dese old gums can +do wid them. 'Spects I can make 'way wid a plate of fried chicken, too, +quick as de nex' one. If you don't believe it, try me dis day, at dinner +time!</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born in slavery time, on Mr. Jno. S. Douglas's plantation, close +to Little River. I b'long to him. He told me I was born in 1853. Had it +wrote down in a book. When I was birthed, de master set de date down in +a book, wid de name of my pappy, Joe and my mammy, Rachael. Bless de +Lord! They b'long to de same master and live on de same place, in a +teency log house. I 'members it. I sho' does. De roof leaked and us had +a time when it rain.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mistress name Miss Maggie; she was a fine woman. Come from de Boyce +stock, a buckra. I tells you dere was no finer mistress in de land, than +she was. She was good to her little niggers; special, I 'low! I was one +of them.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had a white overseer, Mr. Erwin. If it hadn't been for my mistress, +'spect he'd a wore de hide off me one time when he ketched me in de +watermelon patch.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What kind of work I do? Hoe cotton, pick cotton, pick peas, mind de +cows and keep de calf off at milkin' time. I plowed some de last year of +de war, '65 it was.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My marster and mistress was very 'ligious in deir 'suasions. They was +Seceders and 'tended Hew Hope Church. When us went dere, us went up in +de gallery. No piano nor organ was 'lowed in de church them days. I set +up dere many a Sabbath and see Marse Robin Stinson knock his fork on de +bench, hold it to his ear, and h'ist de tune. Then all jine in and let +me tell you it had to be one of de Bible psalms, by de sweet singer of +Israel, and no common glory hallelujah hymn. No sir, they didn't +tolerate deir chillun engagin' in breakin' de Sabbath in dat way!</p> +<p class="pnext">"It sorta comes to my mind dat in de summer time after crops was lay by, +us went to hear one of our color expound de word in a brush harbor, nigh +Feasterville. His name was Alfred Moore, de pappy of Isaiah and Phillip +Moore. You sho' knows them two. 'Member us had to git a pass to go to +dat meetin'. Patarollers (patrollers) was dere, and if you didn't have a +pass you got a whippin' and was sent home. Can I tell you some of de +tales dat Isaiah and Phillip Moore used to tell? Yes sir! When you gits +through wid me, I'll tell you one or two.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No sir, I never marry durin' slavery time. I was just a boy; wasn't too +young to like de gal's company, though. Marse John was a rich man; had +two plantations. One was de home place and de other de river place, +where de corn, oats, and hay was raised. He had a flock of sheep, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All of our clothes was made from wool and cotton dat was made right +dere on de plantation. Wool was sheared from de sheep. Cotton was picked +from de field. De cotton was hand-carded, took to de spinnin' wheels, +made into thread, loomed into cloth, sewed into clothes, or knitted into +socks and stockin's.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marster had a hoss-gin and a screw-pit, to git de seed out de cotton +and pack de lint into bales. My brothers was Vince, Bill, Sam, and John. +My sisters was Mary and Liza.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Does I recollect de Yankees? I sho' does. They burnt de gin-house and +school house. Took de mules, hosses, chickens, and eggs. Marster was +sharp 'nough to bury de meat in de woods, 'long wid other things they +didn't git. They set de house afire at de last, and rode off. Us put de +fire out and save de mansion for Marse John.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I didn't jine de church in slavery time; lak to dance then. Our fiddler +was Buck Manigo, de best fiddler, black or white, in de State, so white +folks say.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ku Klux didn't come 'round our parts. My ma stay on as cook, after +freedom. I stay for $5.00 a month and eat at de kitchen. I was always a +democrat and weared a red shirt in de Hampton parades.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I marry Patsy Jenkins. She live twenty years and us had seven chillun. +Did you know, boss, after Patsy dead and buried, I got to be a old fool +'bout women again? Dat I did. De devil put it into dis old gray head to +marry a young gal; Mary Douglas was her name. Joy come dat fust night +and misery popped in de door de very nex' mornin'. Us couldn't 'G' 'bout +nothin'. She, at de last, left me for 'nother man over on de Broad River +side. I's steered my course clear of de women's skirts ever since. I's +now livin' wid my grand-daughter, Irene Wilson, 'bove town.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Bout de tale you want to hear. Well, Preacher Alfred Moore, a +colored slave, search de scripture for names for his chillun. One boy +him name Isaiah and one name Phillip. They both was mighty good slaves +of Dr. Walter Brice, our doctor. My marster and Dr. Price's son, Marse +Thomas, marry sisters and I see a heat of Isaiah and Phillip. Isaiah had +a tale 'bout Niggerdemos (Nicodemus) and Phil had a tale 'bout a eunuch. +Which one you want to hear? Both? I's gittin' tired. I'll just tell +Isaiah's tale 'bout Niggerdemos. You has seen de blisters on sycamore +trees? I knows you have. Well, Isaiah 'low they come 'bout in dis way: +In de days of de disciples dere was a small colored man named +Niggerdemos (Nicodemus), dat was a republican and run a eatin' house in +Jerusalem. He done his own cookin' and servin' at de tables. He heard de +tramp, tramp, tramp of de multitude a comin', and he asked: 'What dat +goin' on outside?" They told him de disciples done borrowed a colt and +was havin' a parade over de city. Niggerdemos thought de good Lord would +cure him of de lumbago in his back. Hearin' folks a shoutin', he throwed +down his dish rag, jerked off his apron, and run for to see all dat was +gwine on, but havin' short legs he couldn't see nothing'. A big sycamore +tree stood in de line of de parade, so Niggerdemos climbed up it, goin' +high 'nough for to see all. De Savior tell him: 'Come down; we gwine to +eat at your house, Niggerdemos'. Niggerdemos come down so fast, when he +hear dat, he scrape de bark off de tree in many places. Niggerdemos was +sho' cured of de lumbago but sycamores been blistered ever since. Nex' +time you pass a sycamore tree, look how it is blistered. Isaiah is +asleep now, in de white folks graveyard at Concord Church. I's seen his +tombstone. On it is wrote his age and day of his death. B'low dat, is +just dis: 'As good as ever fluttered'. His young Marster Tommie put it +dere."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ed-mccrorey-mack"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id49">Ed McCrorey (Mack)</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Ed McCrorey (Mack), 82 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Yas sah, I was born in slavery time, on de Lord's Day. I 'members mammy +tellin' me, but just which month, I disremembers dat. De year done gone +out my 'membrance, but I is eight-two. You'll have to help figger dat +year out for me. It was befo' de Yankees come, 'cause I see them then. I +good size chap, I was dat day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My marster was Wateree Jim McCrorey. My mistress name Miss Sara. Sure +she de wife of Marster Jim. Does I recollect de chillun? 'Spect I can +name most of them. Young Marster Bill marry a Miss Harper kin to de old +Jedge Harper. Miss Sara, her marry a Beaty, a buckra, and Marster John +got killed in de war.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My father was name Washington, after General George Washington, though +he got nothin' but 'Wash' in de handlin' of his name. My mammy name +Dolly, after de President's wife 'Dolly'. De white folks tell mammy dat +her was name for a very great lady. You ask me why I say father and not +say mother? Well boss, let me see; maybe I regard father, but I loves +mammy. My white folks say father but I learnt on de breast and knees of +mammy to say mammy, and dat's a sweet name to dis old nigger, which and +how I ain't gonna change 'less her changes it when I git to heaven bye +and bye.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marster Jim live on Wateree Creek. Had big plantation and a heap of +slaves. Maybe you knows de place. Marster Troy own it, after de war. De +Yankees never burn up de house. It catch afire from a spark out de +chimney of de house dat Marster Troy was habitatin' then. Yas sah, +Yankees took all they could carry way, but didn't touch de house. +Marster Troy kept a bar and lots of poor white trash continually 'round +dere smokin'. 'Spect some of them no 'count folks caused de fire.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lord bless you! Yas sah, us had plenty to eat and wear; wore shoes in +winter, though they were sorta stiff, de wooden bottoms make them dat +way. Us boys run 'round in our shirt tails in summer time. Us lak dat!</p> +<p class="pnext">"What I lak best to eat in them times? 'Lasses and pone bread for +breakfast; roastin' ears, string beans, hog jowls, bread and buttermilk +for dinner; and clabber and blackberry cobbler for supper. Them's good +eatin's I tell you!</p> +<p class="pnext">Did I ever git a whippin'? Lordy, Lordy! did I? Once I 'members one +moonlight night 'bout midnight, a gettin' up off my pallet on de floor, +goin' out in de sugar cane patch and gittin' a big stalk of de cane. +When I gits back to our house, young Marster Jim ketch me and say: 'Dat +you Ed?' I'd lak to deny it was me, but dere I was, ketch wid de cane on +me. What could I say? I just say: 'Please Marster Jim, don't tell old +marster, just do wid me what you laks'. He make his face grim and +sentence come from his mouth: 'Ten lashes and privilege of eatin' de +cane, or five lashes and de cane be given de pigs in de pen; lashes +'plied wid a hame string on de bare back and rump'. Dat last word seem +to tickle him and he laugh. Dat brightened me some. 'Which you goin' to +take', say young marster. I say, 'I wants de sugar cane, Marster Jimmy, +but please make de lashes soft as you can'. Then he git stern again, +took me by de hand, lead me to de harness house, got a hame string and +say, 'Now don't you bellow, might wake mother'. Then he give me de ten +lashes and they wasn't soft a-tall. I didn't cry out on de night wind +though. Dat ended it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My white folks 'tended Wateree Church. I never went to church in time +of slavery, though. I now b'longs to de Big Zion African Methodist +Church in Chester, S.C. What I feel lak when I jine? I felt turnt all +'round, new all over. It was lak I never had been, never was, but always +is to be 'til I see Him who clean my heart. Now you is teched on sumpin' +dat I better be quiet 'bout.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I marry Emily Watson, sumpin' 'bout her attractive to all men, white +men in particular. After I got four chillun by her, one of de big white +men of de county have a ruction wid his widow-wife and step chillun. +They left him. Emily was a cookin' for him. It wasn't long befo' she +quit comin' home at night. I leaves de place. Emily have four chillun by +dat white man. One of my chillun by Emily, is a street sweeper for de +town of Winnsboro. 'Spect he is fifty years old. Dat was our oldest +child. De second one up and marry a preacher, Rev. Brown. De other two +in New Jersey and they make a heap of money they say, but I never see de +color of dat money.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our neighbors was Gen. Bratton and Capt. Ed. P. Mobley. Both powerful +rich men and just 'bout set de style of polite livin'. Everybody looked +up to General Bratton, expected nothin', got nothin'. Everybody dat come +'round Marster Ed. P. Mobley, expect sumpin' and went away wid sumpin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After freedom, Marster Ed's son, Marster Mose, marry Miss Minnie +McCrorey; her de mother of Marster Bill Mobley, County Treasurer, +Richland County. She die and Marster Mose take another sister, Miss +Emma. Her son big doctor at Florence, S.C.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Does I know any funny stories? Does you want a true story? Yas? Well, +all Marster Ed Mobley's niggers lak to stay wid him after freedom. They +just stay on widout de whippin's. 'Stead of whippin's they just got +cussin's, good ones too. Dere was two old men, Joe Raines and Joe +Murray, dat he was 'ticular fond of. Maybe he more love Joe Raines de +bestest. One day Joe Murray let de cows git away in de corn field. At +dinner time Marster Ed cuss him befo' de whole crowd of hands, layin' +'round befo' dinner; and he cuss him powerful. After dinner Joe Murray +grieve and complain much 'bout it to de crowd. Joe Raines up and allow: +'Next time he cuss you, do lak I do, just cuss him back. Dis is a free +country, yas sah. Just give him as good a cussin' as he gives you'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Not long after dat, de boar hog git out de lot gate, when Joe Murray +was leadin' his mule out. Marster Ed lit out on Joe Murray a cussin' and +Joe Murray lit out on Marster Ed a cussin', and then Marster Ed ketch +Joe and give him a slavery time whippin' and turn him loose. Joe Murray +take his mule on to de field, where he glum wid Joe Raines. Joe Murray +tell 'bout de boar hog gitting out and de cussin's and de whippin's. Joe +Raines allow: 'You didn't cuss him right. You never cuss him lak I cuss +him, or you'd a never got a whippin'.' Joe Murray allow: 'How you cuss +him then, Joe?' Say Joe Raines very slow, 'Well when I cuss Marster Ed, +I goes way down in de bottoms where de corn grow high and got a black +color. I looks east and west and north and south. I see no Marster Ed. +Then I pitches into him and gives him de worst cussin' a man ever give +another man. Then when I goes back to de house, my feelin's is satisfied +from de cussin' I have give him, and he is sure to make up wid me for +Marster Ed don't bear anger in his bosom long. De next time cuss him but +be sure to go way off somewhere so he can't hear you, nigger'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some time I sorry I's free. I have a hard time now. If it was slavery +time, I'd be better off in my body and easy in my mind. I stays wid my +daughter, Emily. My old marster, Wateree Jim, is de bestest white man I +has ever knowed. My race has never been very good to me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was too young to work much, just 'tend to de cows, carry water in de +fields, pick up chips, find de turkey and guinea nests. I's never voted +in my life, never been in jail in my life. Seem lak I's just a branch or +pond dryin' up on de road side, and de onliest friend I's got is de +President and dat good old dog of mine.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Goodbye and God bless you sir, 'til we meet again."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="richard-mack"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id50">Richard Mack</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Richard Mack, 104 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Rosemont School, Charleston, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Martha S. Pinckney, Charleston, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Richard Mack, a happy philosopher, 104 years old, in perfect mental and +physical condition, is still working as janitor of the Rosemont school. +He is of the aquiline type, with eyes bright and deep set, and a black +skin with a red light shining through, showing Indian relationship.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born in Limestone, Va. My first master was Green Bobo. I was sold +when I was ten years old; not really sold, but sold on a paper that said +if he didn't take care of me, I would come back—a paper on me—a kind +of mortgage—speculators bought negroes and sell um. Missis, I never had +a stripe put on me. I had a privilege of being among all people." +(Richard Mack enjoyed every experience of his life and has no root of +bitterness in his nature). "Then I come to South Carolina. My mother, +Jane, she live to be 108; she come to South Carolina too. We got back +together again," (he paused with a bright smile) "Orangeburg, at Captain +Cherry's—Captain Cherry here in Charleston is related to him—Cherry +Plantation is there now; Captain Cherry had plenty of money.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Tony was my father, a carriage driver; he wore his tall hat and fine +clothes (livery) and he was a musician—played the violin at the Academy +on the 'old Ninety-Six Road'. All the white people educated their +children there, and they had parties. Oh, the beautifulest ladies—they +wore long dresses then and had long hair—the beautifulest! My +father—Daddy Tony, they call him—he was a musician—always played the +violin." Here he mentioned the names of songs of that day, before the +War of 1861, and repeated these words with much merriment:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Would have been married forty year ago,</div> +<div class="line">If it hadn't been for Cotton Eye Joe</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Songs—lots of um—</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Run nigger, run, de Patrol ketch you</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">He roared with laughter—"When de patrol come, I had my badge; I show +him my paper and my badge! I got it still. I love dem days—I love dem +people.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother was a good woman—she used to get down on her knees, like +this, and get up like this," (he knelt with agility, and rose unassisted, +quickly, and without the least difficulty). "My aunt lived to be 141; she +saw George Washington—she told me so.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Cherokee—Kickapoo—I don't remember—my great grandfather was an +Indian Chief—my nose is straight, see here." He went into the pocket of +his overall, brought out a pair of eyeglasses, put them on the end of +his nose, and looked over them.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I loved dem days, I loved dem people. We lived better—we had no +money—we had nothing to worry about—just do your task. Spin wheel and +reel and reel for the yarn. I filled my arms full of quilt—hand made. +Had task; I done all my task, and I help others with their task so they +wouldn't get whipped; if people lazy and wont do, they got to be made to +do; if children bad they get whipped—if nigger bad, they get a +whipping.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Old Satan wear a big shoe—he got one club foot. He can disguise +himself—he make you think he got power, but he ain't got any power. He +get you in trouble and leave you there. I always pray for wisdom and +understanding like Solomon. I pray all the time to our good Father. +People say—'Why you call him Good Father?'" (Quoted from the Bible) "I +love everybody—'Love thy neighbor as thyself.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes Ma'am! Oh Heaven!—we got to be clean—we change out of the flesh +to the spirit; a crown prepared for us; all we save and help are stars +in our crown; you go from Mansion to Mansion—higher—higher." (He +raised his arms with a rapt look)</p> +<p class="pnext">Then he was told about "Green Pastures" and asked what he thought of it. +"Why my Lord have Mercy! The Lord is a Spirit—we are changed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I roll the carpet for Missis to get in the carriage; a two-foot carpet +from the house roll to the stoop for the carriage.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother—yes Ma'am—108 years old—a smart woman in the house. Oh my +Lord, Missis—cook! She wouldn't kill a chicken out of the yard; she had +a coop to put them in, and it was cleaned out every day. My mother would +fix the flowers; she would take this little flower, and that little +flower, and put them together, and make up a beautiful bouquet, and hand +them out to everybody. My father knew all about planting; the people +would come to ask 'Daddy Tony' how to plant this and when to plant that.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I heard all the War talk, I saw a comet." (Indicating its position in +the heavens, he seemed inspired, forgot his surroundings, looking back). +"I saw the curtain-cloud—and snow clouds—rolls and rolls. In the War I +was with my master, Capt. Cherry, and Dr. Knox, Captain in the Civil +War, and Capt. Dick McMichael—all those fine gentlemen. They had +hog-skin saddles that creaked—Crench—crench—as they rode;" (He was +enthusiastic) "the way they could ride! Those hosses were as sensible as +people; they could jump from side to side; they knew everything.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Capt. Cherry said to me—'Why weren't you white! Why weren't you white! +Why weren't you white!' I lost my old Captain—then I was with Gen. +Frank Bamberg, and with his brother, Capt. Isaac Bamberg—I was Orderly. +Sometimes in the War we had one hardtack a day, and had to drink water +on 'um, to make 'um swell. We had to get out salt out of water, most +anywhere."</p> +<p class="pnext">"I saw Gen. Lee many times; I knew him; he had his close beard around +his face; he looked fine and sat his horse so splendid." Mack was asked +the color of the horse, and described the gray. Here he remembered the +battlefield—"I did this"—he enacted silently—dexterously—the placing +of the dead and wounded on the stretchers and bearing them away—worked +so rapidly that his breath was labored. "I made the balloon flight—my +eyes were good—they carried me because any object that I saw, I knew +what it was; a rope ladder led up to the basket—the beautiful thing—we +went up on the other side of Beaufain street; there were no houses there +then, and we came down on the Citadel Green."</p> +<p class="pnext">Mack had spoken several times with enthusiasm of the officer's cavalry +'pump sole boots'. After he had polished them, "Capt. Edwards (of +Elloree) gave me a $500.00 bill for cleaning his 'pump sole boots'." +Mack proudly enacted the Captain's jolly but pompous manner, as he gave +the bill, and added, "I had thousands of dollars in Confederate money +when the War broke up. If we had won I would be rich."</p> +<p class="pnext">After War period: "The time Capt. Wade Hampton was stumping I followed +him all over the State; I led 500 head; was with him to Camden, +Orangeburg and all the way to Hampton County; led 500 Negroes through +the County; I was Captain of them; I rode 'Nellie Ponsa' and wore my red +jacket and cap and boots; I had a sword too; my 'red shirt' died year +before last."</p> +<p class="pnext">Asked if he knew 'Riley', Mack answered promptly—"'Democrat Riley', +yes Ma'am, used to drive that fine carriage, and old Col. Cunningham's +family." Riley was an ex-slave, a tall black man, devoted to the South, +as he was, a Democrat of high principle, and respected by all—hated by +many—a power in himself.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I lose all my ancestors. I got a niece, Queenie Brown, in Orangeburg; I +got a daughter in New Jersey; one in New York, married to a Clyde Line +man; lost sight of both; both old.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Bless the Lord! I got friends! Mr. Pooser came to see me yesterday; +been in South America four years; just got back and hunt me up right +off! Married Miss Dantzler of Orangeburg—I raised them all"—with a +benign look of love end ownership.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jake-mcleod"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id51">Jake McLeod</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Jake McLeod, 83 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Timmonsville, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mrs. Lucile Young and H. Grady Davis, Florence, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"You see what color I am. I born in Lynchburg, South Carolina de 13th +day of November, 1854. Born on de McLeod place. Grandparents born on de +McLeod place too. My white folks, dey didn' sell en buy slaves en dat +how-come my grandfather Riley McLeod fell to Frank McLeod en grandmother +fell to de McRaes. My boss give my grandfather to his sister, Carolina, +dat had married de McRae, so dey wouldn' be separated. Dey take dem en +go to Florida en when de Yankees went to Florida, dey hitched up de +teams en offered to bring dem back to South Carolina. Some of my uncles +en aunts come back, but my grandfather en grandmother stayed in Florida +till dey died.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De McLeods, dey was good people. Believe in plenty work, eat en wear +all de time, but work us very reasonable. De overseer, he blow horn for +us to go to work at sunrise. Give us task to do en if you didn' do it, +dey put de little thing to you. Dat was a leather lash or some kind of a +whip. Didn' have no whippin post in our neighborhood. I recollect my +boss unmercifully whipped man I thought, but I found out dat it was +reasonable. He (the slave) beat up my uncle (a slave) en my old boss put +it on him. Striped him down en tied him wid buckskin string. Whipped him +till he get tired en come back en whip him more. I looked right on at +it. When he turn him loose, told him to go. See him whip my mother one +time 'cause she whip me. Caught her by de hand en whip her right in de +same field dat she whip me. It was so hot I dig holes en put my foot in +de hole en dat de reason she whip me. Den if he find anyone steal a +thing, he whip dem for dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey didn' have no jails in dem days, but I recollects one woman hanged +on de galleries (gallows). Hang dem up by harness en broke neck for +wrongdoing like killin somebody or tryin to kill. Old woman cookin for +de Scotts, named Peggy, tried to poison de Scotts. Mean to her, she say, +en she put poison in de coffee. My mother walked 'bout 10 miles to see +dat hangin' 'cause dey turn de slaves loose to go to a hangin'. Took her +from de quarter in de wagon en I heard her tell dat de old lady, Peggy, +was sittin on her coffin. My mother say she used to use so much +witchcraft en some one whispered, 'Why don' you do somethin 'bout it?' +She say, 'It too late now.' I hear tell 'bout dem hangin', but I ain' +see none of it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My boss had four slave houses dat was three or four hundred yards from +his house en I reckon he had 'bout 25 slaves. One was pole house wid +brick chimney en two rooms petitioned off en de other three was clay +house. Us had frame bed en slept on shucks en hay mattress. Dey didn' +give us no money but had plenty to eat every day. Give us buttermilk en +sweeten potatoes en meat en corn bread to eat mostly. Catch nigger wid +wheat, dey give him 'wheat'. Den dey let us have a garden en extra +patches of we own dat we work on Saturday evenings. En we catch much +rabbits en fish as us want. Catch pikes en eels en cats. Catch fish wid +hook en line in Lynches river wid Senator E.D. Smith's father. Rev. Bill +Smith de father of E.D. Smith.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De white folks, dey had a woman to each place to weave de cloth en make +all us clothes. De women had to weave five cuts a week, one cut a night. +Have reel in de shape of wheel en spokes turn en hold thread en turn en +when it click, it a cut. Any over, keep it to de next week. Dey wore +cotton clothes in de summer en wool clothes in de winter en had more den +one garment too. Had different clothes to wear on Sunday 'cause de slaves +go to de white folks church in dat day en time. Den dey had shoemaker to +come dere en make all de colored peoples shoes. De Durant shoemaker come +to de McLeod plantation en make dey shoes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I tellin you my boss was a good man en he had a big plantation wid six +or seven hundred acres of land, but he didn' have to mind to see 'bout +none of de work. De overseer name Dennis en he was de one to look out +for all de plantation work. He lived on de McLeod place en he was good +man to us. I had to thin cotton en drop peas en corn en I was a half +[HW: hand] two years durin de war. If a whole hand hoes one acre, den a +half hand hoes half a acre. Dat what a half hand is. Waited on de +wounded de last year of de war.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wheat, peas, corn en cotton was de things dat peoples plant mostly in +dem days. Dis how I see dem frail de wheat out. Put pole in hard land en +drive horse in circle en let dem stamp it out. You could ride or walk. +Two horses tramp en shake it out en den take straws en have somethin to +catch it in en wind it out. Had to pick en thrash a bushel of peas a +day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When corn haulin time come, every plantation haul corn en put in circle +in front of de barn. Have two piles en point two captains. Dey take +sides en give corn shuckin like dat. Shuck corn en throw in front of +door en sometimes shuck corn all night. After dey get through wid all de +shuckin, give big supper en march all round old Massa's kitchen en +house. Have tin pans, buckets en canes for music en dance in front of de +house in de road. Go to another place en help dem shuck corn de next +time en so on dat way.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My old Miss en Massa, dey always look after dey slaves when dey get +sick. Use herbs for dey medicine. I used to know different herbs my +mother would get. Boneset en life-everlastin make teas for fever en +colds. When I was a boy, dey used to carry dem what have smallpox by de +swamp en built a dirt house for dem. Kept dem dere en somebody carried +feed to dem. People used to have holes in dey skin wid dat thing en most +of dem died.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I hear tell 'bout one man runnin away from Black Creek en gwine to Free +State. Catch ride wid people dat used to travel to Charleston haulin +cotton en things. He come back 'bout 15 years after de war en lived in +dat place join to me. Come back wid barrels en boxes of old second hand +clothes en accumulated right smart here. Talk good deal 'bout how he +associated wid de whites. Don' know how-come he run away, but dey didn' +catch up wid him till it was too late. De community have man den call +pataroller en dey business was to catch dem dat run away. Say like you +be authorized to look after my place, you catch dem dat slipped off to +another man place. Couldn' leave off plantation to go to another place +widout you ask for a pass en have it on you. White folks used to kill +beef what dey call club beef. If you kill beef this week, you send this +one en that one a piece till de beef all gone. White folks give me pass +en tell me carry beef en deliver it. Next time, another man send us +beef.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I run away one time en somehow another de overseer know whe' I was. I +recollects old Miss had me tied to de tester bedstead en she whip me +till de whip broke. I see her gettin another arm 'bout full en I tear +loose en run away. I slip home on steps at my mother's house lookin down +playin wid de cat en look up in her face. She say, 'You good for nothin, +you get out of here en get to dat barn en help dem shuck corn.' I go but +I didn' go in 'cause I keep a watch on her. Another time boss had a +horse apple tree dat just had one apple on it en he wanted to save dat +apple till it get ripe enough for seed en fall. White man, I couldn' +stand it. I eat dat apple. He put it on me dat time 'cause he saw my +tracks en dat how he knew it was me. He know it was me en I couldn' get +out of it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I get married in '76. My old boss, we all went gether. Red Shirt +canvassed the country. People tried to get me to quit my wife 'cause dey +say de Democrats would bring back slavery. Some voted 8 or 10 tickets. I +was on de stand when Hampton spoke in Sumter. Chamberlain was elected on +de Republican ticket. Sam Lee one of de men. He was white. I believe he +was colored. Wade Hampton have him brought on de stand en ask questions. +Ask what kind of Government it gwine be. Dey had tissue tickets en +blindfolded man en he didn' take out tissue tickets. Name en number on +de ticket.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All I know 'bout de war dat bring freedom was dat de war was gwine on. +I remember when dey couldn' get coffee, sugar or nothin like dat. You +know dat was a tough time to think 'bout we couldn' get no salt. Cut up +potatoes en parch to make coffee. Sweetened wid syrup en fore de war +closed, made sugar from sugar cane. Boil dirt out de smoke house en put +liquor in food. Eat poke berry for greens. Den one day we hear gun fire +in Charleston en Miss made miration. I don' remember freedom, but I +know when we signed de contract, de Yankees give us to understand dat we +was free as our Massa was. Couldn' write, just had to touch de pin. Ask +us what name we wanted to go in. We work on den for one third de crop de +first year wid de boss furnishing everything. Soon as got little ahead +went to share-cropping.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I tell you it been a pretty hard time to be up against. I own dis here +place en my nephew live here wid me. Dey give him government job wid de +understandin he help me. Get $24.00 a month en live off dat. Daughters +in New York pay tax. If dey carry out de President's plan, it be a good +one. It been pretty tough in some instance. God sent thing. I tell you +it a good thing. If carried out like de President want it carried out, +it be better den slavery time. You know some slaves got along mighty bad +'cause most of de white people won' like our white folks.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I belongs to de Methodist church en I believe it de right thing. Man +ought to do as God arranged it 'cause he plan it. We know right from +wrong."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="bill-mcneil"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id52">Bill McNeil</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Bill McNeil, 82 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Ridgeway, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"In December 1855, de family Bible say, I was born on de McNeil Place in +York County. De last person who have dat Bible was Captain Conductor +True of de Southern Railroad trains. Had dis one name in dat Bible, just +'Bill' is set down on de page. I hear them say de Good Book am now in +Tennessee, but I wouldn't swear to dat. I was born 'bout twelve miles +from Chester Court House on a creek called Bullock or something lak dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy name Will; my mammy name Leah. I was put down in de Book as +their child. When Miss Jane, daughter of old Marster McNeil, (I forgits +his first name) marry, then my new marster was Marster Jim True. Miss +Jane just up and marry Marster Jim and come wid him to Fairfield. Then +old Marster McNeil give me, my mammy, and brother Eli, to Miss Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy done passed out, ceased to live, befo' us come to Fairfield. +Him b'long to de Rainey family of York. Had to git a pass to see his +wife and chillun. Dat was one of de hard parts of slavery, I thinks. +Does I 'members Conductor True's name? Sho, I does. It was Thurston +True. When I git on de train him always slap me on de head and say: +'Well Bill, how your corporosity seem to sagasherate dis morning?' And I +say: 'Very galopshous, I thanks you, Captain'. Then us both laugh, and +he pass on down de coach and all de people on dat car 'steem me very +highly. I feel a little bigger than all de other niggers, all dat day +long, I sho does.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Does you know de Warren Castles' Place? 'Bout two miles from dere is +where us lived befo' freedom. Marster Jim True was killed in de war. Us +carry on then and make corn for de 'federate army. Our house had a dirt +floor and a stick and mud chimney. Us slept on a pallet on de floor. In +de summer time I run 'round in my shirt tail.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De overseer, Tom True, de daddy of Marster Jim was a rough and hard +task marster. After freedom I went to de Rembert Place, Wateree Creek, +then to de DesPortes' Place five miles from Winnsboro, then to de Jordan +Place on de Gum Tree Road, then to de Buchanan Place, then I buy seventy +acres from Mr. Jim Curlee and live there every since 1905. My wife was +there wid me and my daughter and her four chillun, Willie, Anne, Andy +and Henrietta Jackson.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I got a heap of whippin's in slavery time from old Marster Tom True. I +see lots of de Yankees and their doings in war time. They just ride +high, burn and take off everything from us, lak they did everywhere +else.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I vote de 'publican ticket, as I try to show my 'preciation, and dat +gits me in bad wid de Klu Klux. They scare me, but no touch me. De red +shirts try to 'suade me to vote their way. Some of de best white folks +was in dat movement, but this time I 'members old Tom True beating me +often for little or nothing. I sticks out to de end wid de party dat +freed me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I find out, and you'll find out, boss, dat only de Lord is pure in de +beginning and to de end, in His plans. De works of man and parties lak +democrat and 'publican have their day; if they reign long enough de +people will mourn so de Bible say.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My old overseer, Marster Tom was a school teacher. I feel sorry for de +chillun he teached, 'cause him whip me just when him git out of sorts. +Miss Jane couldn't stop him, she just cry.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas sir, I have knowed good white men. Mr. Warren Castles was a good +man, and Manigault here in town is fit to go to heaven, when he die. I +sure dat he is, although he is a nigger.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My house and land worth $590.00, but I been going back'ards every year +for last eight years. Can't get labor, can't work myself. Wonder if you +white folks will help me get a pension. I's not going to beg. Dats my +last word."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="andy-marion"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id53">Andy Marion</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Andy Marion, 92 years</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Yes, sir, I was born befo' de war 'tween de white folks, on account of +us niggers. They was powerful concerned 'bout it and we was not. My +mammy always said she found me a babe in de chinkapin bushes, but you +can leave dat out if you want to. They say I comed into de world in +1844. I sho' was a good plow-hand when de first gun was fired at some +place down near Charleston; I think it was at Sumter. They say I was +born where Marster Eugene Mobley lives now, but it b'longed to Marster +William Brice, when I was born in 1844, bless God! My father named Aleck +and my mother Mary. Us colored folks didn't git names 'til after de war. +I took my name, when I went up to de 'lection box first time to vote for +Gen. Grant for president. My father was from old Virginia, my mother +from South Carolina. Our plantation had seventy-two slaves living about +here and yon in log houses wid dirt floors. They bored auger holes in de +sides of de room, stuck end of poles in dese holes. De pole reach' out +into de room and rested on wooden blocks sort of hollowed out on top; +then some slats of pine finish up de contraption bed. Quilts was spread +on dis which was all de bed we had.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I been married four times since de war and I'm here to tell you dat a +nigger had a hell of a time gittin' a wife durin' slavery. If you didn't +see one on de place to suit you and chances was you didn't suit them, +why what could you do? Couldn't spring up, grab a mule and ride to de +next plantation widout a written pass. S'pose you gits your marster's +consent to go? Look here, de gal's marster got to consent, de gal got to +consent, de gal's daddy got to consent, de gal's mammy got to consent. +It was a hell of a way!</p> +<p class="pnext">"I helped my marster 'mong de bullets out along de Mississippi River, +but I's glad we didn't whip them 'cause I's had four wives and dere is +de las' one settin' right over dere, a fixin' you some strawberries and +a shakin' her belly at me laughin' lak Sarah in de Bible and thinkin' of +namin' de child of her old age, 'Isaac'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What kind of work I do in slavery? I was de carriage driver. Us had a +fine carriage and two high-steppin' horses, Frank and Charlie. I used to +hear lots of things from behin' me, while drivin' de folks and saying +nothin'. Money, did you say? We had no use for money. Kind words from de +white folks was money 'nough for me. We just worked hard, eat more and +slep' well. We got meat, hominy, and corn meal on Mondays and wheat +bread, lard and 'lasses on Saturdays. No time for fishin' or huntin'. +Married slaves was encouraged to have their own gardens. Our clothes was +of wool in de winter from our own sheep, and cotton in de summer from +our own fields. Had many spinnin' wheels and cards. Miss Mary, de +mistress, saw to dis part.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our white folks was Psalm-singin', old style Presbyterians. You +daresn't whistle a hymn on Sunday which they called Sabbath. Just as +soon as I got free, I jined de Baptist church, hard shell. Brother +Wright is my preacher at Blackstock now. My marster, William Brice, his +wife, Miss Mary, his son, Christie, and his daughters, Miss Lizzie, Miss +Kitty and Miss Mary, was de ones I drove de carriage to Hopewell church +on Sunday for. Dat church is flourishin' now. De pastor of dat church, +Rev. John White, befo' he died I waited on him sixteen years, and in his +will, he give me dis house and forty acres around it for my life. Dat's +what I calls religion. My mistress was a angel, good, and big hearted. I +lay my head in her lap many a time. Marster had a overseer twice. They +was poor white trash, not as good as de niggers. Miss Mary run them both +off and told marster what she couldn't see to when he was away, she'd +pick out one of de slaves to see after. All de overseer done was to wake +us up, see to feeding stock and act biggity. Us slaves worked from sun +up to sun down.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sometime befo' de war, my marster sold out and bought a big place in +Mississippi. On de way dere, de slaves (grown) was chained together. Yes +sir, de chain was 'round de necks. We went by wagons and steamboats +sometimes. We stayed in Mississippi 'til durin' de war we refugeed back +to South Carolina. Dat's when de Yankees got possession of de river. We +settled near New Hope church. It was in dis church dat I saw sprinkling +wid a kind a brush when baptizin' de chillun. Over at Hopewell, you had +to have a brass trinket (token) to show befo' you could take Communion +of de Saints. We was always compelled to go to church. Boss like for de +slaves to sing while workin'. We had a jack-leg slave preacher who'd +hist de tunes. Some was spirituals; my wife and me will sing you one +now, 'Got to Fight de Devil when You Come Up out de Water'." (This was +well rendered by the old man and his wife). "Nothing stopped for slave +funerals. De truth is, I can't 'member any dyin' on our places. None of +our slaves ever run away.</p> +<p class="pnext">"A pass was lak dis, on it was yo' name, what house you goin' to and de +hour expected back. If you was cotched any other house, pataroller whip +you sho'. Always give us Chris'mus Day. Dere was a number of dances dis +time of de year. Got passes to different plantations. Dere would be corn +shuckin' different places. Not much games or playin' in our set. Wife, +let's sing another spiritual. Come on Janie, let's sing 'You Got to Lay +Your Burden 'pon de Lord'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sickness of slaves was quickly 'tended to by de doctor. 'Member +gallopin' for old Doctor Douglas many a time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I went to de war from Mississippi as body guard for my marstar. I was +close to de fightin' and see it. If it was hell then, it must be +tarnation now wid all dese air-planes flyin' roun' droppin' booms on old +people lak Janie and me, over dere fixin' them strawberries. De good +Lord, save us from a war over Blackstock and my garden out dere!</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was free three years befo' I knowed it. Worked along just de same. +One day we was in de field on Mr. Chris Brice's place. Men come along on +big, black horse, tail platted and tied wid a red ribbon. Stopped, waved +his hands and shouted 'You is free, all of you. Go anywhere you wants +to'. Us quit right then and acted de fool. We ought to have gone to de +white folks 'bout it. What did de Yankees do when they come? They tied +me up by my two thumbs, try to make me tell where I hided de money and +gold watch and silver, but I swore I didn't know. Did I hide it? Yes, so +good it was two years befo' I could find it again. I put everything in a +keg, went into de woods, spaded the dirt by a pine stump, put de keg in, +covered it up wid leaves and left it. Sometime after, we looked for it, +but couldn't find it. Two years later, I had a mule and cart in de +woods. De mule's foot sunk down into de old stump hole and dere was de +keg, de money, de silver and de watch. Marster was mighty glad dat I was +a faithful servant, and not a liar and a thief lak he thought I was. My +marstar was not a Ku Klux. They killed some obstreppary (obstreperous) +niggers in them times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I first married Sara Halsey in 1875, she had three chillun. She died. +Ten months after, I took Harriett Daniels; she had three chillun, then +she died. Eight months after, I married Millie Gladden, no chillun. She +lived seventeen years, died, and ten years ago I fooled dat good-lookin' +Jane a-settin' over dere. She was a widow then, she was de widow Arthur. +She was a Caldwell, when she was born. We have no chillun but she is +still lookin' for a blessin'." (Here the nonagenarian broke forth in a +quiet chuckle).</p> +<p class="pnext">"There wasn't as much sin in slavery time, not as much sufferin', not as +much sickness and eye-sore poverty. Dere was no peniten'try and chain +gangs 'cause dere was no need for them. Cuttin' out de brutishness on +some places, it was a good thing for de race."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="milton-marshall"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id54">Milton Marshall</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Milton Marshall, (82)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C. RFD</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I live in Newberry County, a few miles from town on Mr. Alan +Johnstone's place. I rent and make a fair living. I have ten children +now living and two dead. Dey is all on a farm. I was born in Union +County, jes' across de Newberry line, near de Goshen Hill section. I was +young when we moved to Newberry and I have lived dar nearly all my life. +My father, Ned Worthy, was a slave of Frank Bynum's mother. My mother +was Maria Worthy who was a slave of Mr. Burton Maybin. She cooked for a +long time for de Maybin family.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was small in slavery time, and played wid de white chaps. We used to +go wid Mr. Burt Maybin to see dem muster at de old Goshen Hill muster +ground.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse Burt Maybin owned 88 slaves, and I was one, and is de only one +now living. We had no money in slavery time, jes' got food and clothes +for our work; but my marster was a good feeder, always had enough to +eat. Some of de marsters didn't give niggers much to eat, and dey had to +slip off and steal. We had plenty of what was de rule for eating in dem +days. We had home-made molasses, peas, cornbread and home raised meat +sometimes. We killed rabbits and 'possums to eat, and sometimes went +fishing and hunting. Marse wouldn't allow fishing and hunting on +Sundays, but de chaps would slip off on Sundays sometimes and catch lots +of fish.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our clothes was made at home, spun and wove by de women folks and made +by dem. Copper straw and white cloth was used. Our shoes was made by a +shoe-maker in de neighborhood who was named Liles. Dey was made wid +wooden soles or bottoms. Dey tanned de leather or had it tanned in de +neighborhood. It was tacked around de soles. It was raw-hide leather, +and de shoes had to be soaked in warm water and greased wid tallow or +meat skin so de shoes would slip on de feet.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married Missouri Rice at her own house. We had a big wedding and she +wore a white dress wid two frills on it. I wore a dove-colored suit and +a high brim hat wid a small crown. I bought de hat for $7.00 jes' to +marry in, but used it for Sundays.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We had good white neighbors in slavery time. My marster and mistress +was all right. All of us had to go to work at daylight and work till +dark. Dey whipped us a little and dey was strict about some things.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us chaps did not learn to read and write, dat is why I can't read and +write today. Marse wouldn't allow us to learn. Once he saw me and some +other chaps, white chaps, under a tree playing wid letter blocks. Dey +had de ABC's on dem. Marse got awful mad and got off his horse and +whipped me good.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De niggers didn't have a church on de plantation but was made to go to +de white folks church and set in back of de church. Dey had to git a +pass to go to church same as any other place, or de patrollers would +catch 'em and beat 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de war was over de niggers built brush arbors for to hold +meetings in. I sho' remember de old brush arbor and de glorious times +den, and how de niggers used to sing and pray and shout. I am a Baptist +and we baptised in de creek atter we dammed it up to hold water deep +enough. Sometimes we used a waterhole in de woods. I remember one old +Baptist song, it went:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Down to de water I be baptised, for my Savior die;</div> +<div class="line">Down to de water, de River of Jordan,</div> +<div class="line">Where my Savior baptised.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Some of de slaves was whipped while dey was tied to a stock. My marster +was all right, but awful strict about two things, stealing and telling a +lie. He sho' whipped dem if dey was caught in dem things. Some marsters +didn't feed de slaves much, but my marster always had enough. Every +Sunday he would give each nigger a quart of flour extra for breakfast.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We had to work all day Saturdays, but Marse wouldn't let anybody work +on Sunday. Sometimes he would give de women part of Saturday afternoons +so dey could wash. He wouldn't allow fishing and hunting on Sundays +either, unless it looked like rain and de fodder in de field had to be +brought in. He always give us Christmas Day off, and we had lots of good +eats den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I remember de old corn-shuckings, cotton-pickings and log-rollings. He +would ask all de neighbors' hands in and dey would come by crowds. I can +remember dem good. I remember de grain was put in drains and de horses +was made to tramp on it to git de seed out. Den it was put in a house +and poured in a big wooden fan machine which fanned out de chaff. De +machine was turned by two men. Dey made molasses by taking de cane and +squeezing out de juice in a big wooden machine. De machines now is +different. Dey is made of cast.</p> +<p class="pnext">"A stage dat was drawn by two horses went past our place. It carried +mail and people. When Marse wanted to send word to any people in de +neighborhood he sent it by somebody on a horse.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Many of de slaves, and some old white people, too, thought dar was +witches in dem days. Dey believed a witch could ride you and stop blood +circulation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dar was many dogs on de farms, mostly hounds and bird dogs.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My grandfather was called 'Jack', and he was a nigger-driver. Dat was a +nigger dat had to oversee de slaves when de marster was away from home. +He would call de cows like dis, 'Su—wee, Su-wee' or 'Sook, Sook'. He +called his dogs by whistling. He had several dogs. When grandpa died and +was buried, his dogs would git out and bark and trail jes' like trailing +a rabbit, and de trail always led to de graveyard. Dar dey would stand +by his grave and howl for a long time, wid deir heads up in de air.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De old folks made medicines from root herbs and tree barks. Herb tea +was made to keep away fevers. Marse always called his big chaps up to de +house in de mornings and made dem drink chinaberry tea to keep worms +from gitting in dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When freedom come, de slaves was notified dat a white man by de name +Ban White would come to de plantation and make a speech to dem. He said, +'Now dat you is free, you will be wid your marster, and he is willing to +give you 1/3 of what you make. You is free, and dar will be no more +whippings.' Den Marse said, while he was crying, 'You stay on wid me and +I'll give you food and clothes and 1/3 of what you make.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de war, de Ku Klux did bad in our neighborhood. Dey killed five +or six niggers. I guess it was 'cause dey was Republicans and had trouble +at voting times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never did think slavery was right. I was jes' a chap den and never +thought much about it till long since it was over. De carpetbaggers dat +come to our place tried to make me believe dat de white man was our +enemy, but I found out better. I am a Democrat and always was one. I was +40 years old when I repented of my sins and jined de church. I wanted to +jine and be baptized and be saved."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="charlie-meadow"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id55">Charlie Meadow</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Charlie Meadow (83)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Rt. 2, Union, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"It bees so hot today dat I jes' setting here on de bank steps a-waiting +fer Aaron to come. Aaron work out on de road yonder in front of Dr. +S'ratt's house. De heat, it still come up out'n dis granite rock like +dar was a fire under it somewhars. It feel good to me kaise my blood +thin and I has on de thinnest clothes dat I's got, today. Sho' did git +dis hot in slavery, but us never had to tramp 'round on no pavement and +rock steps like dese. Us tromped on de ground and it take up a lot of +heat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In dem days, Union had trees along dis Main street like dem dat grows +on de forest now, (Forest Creek). Mister, dey never called dis street +Main when I was little, dey called it Virgin. It was real narrow and de +trees recht plumb over de street in de middle 'till de limbs touched +over your head. Here whar we's setting was de opera house. Right dar +whar I's a pinting my finger was a stone hitching post, and along dis +side de street was whar de surreys driv up fer de folks to git out and +go in de do' to de Opera.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't want to see no picture shows; ain't never seed none of dem +things afo' dey got to talking. It's de devil hisself and dat's all it +is. Now dey says dat dey talks in de pictures. Well, dem dat wants to +can go and pay dere hard earned money to see sech as dat, but Charlie +ain't gwine narry a step. No, if you is got any money to give me, I take +it; but I ain't gwine to no picture whar de devil hisself bees in de +dark. Dat's how come dey has it dark, and dat's what I 'lows to my +grandchilluns but dey is ig'nant and laughs at me. It ain't no good to +all sech as dat anyway. I likes to go to picnics and barbecues fer my +enjoyment. Befo' my legs give out, I cotch fish and killed birds and +went to log rollings and corn-shuckings. Dem things give you something +to recall. Dese chilluns comes from de picture show and den dey does not +have nothing to recall, kaise dey has to go agin de very next Sad'day. +Tain't no merits to no sech as dey does.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slavery, us wore thin home-made clothes and dey sho' was better dan +what I has now, kaise us made dem on de home looms and spinning wheel, +and dey was good. Cloth ain't no count, kaise it ain't made good in no +mills like dat what us made at home in de time of slavery. 'Course I was +too little to make dem, myself, but it was done at home 'till atter I +got big enough to card and spin. Ain't never seed no garments as strong +as dem we wore back dar. Every thing was made out of plaited cotton and +it lasted fer years and years. Winter time, we wore all wool clothes, +and when you furs' changed in de fall, how dey did scratch! Make a +feller feel like he had de itch. Marster had enough sheep to give his +folks wool, and den some fer all de darkies. I's 'bout ten years old +when I could card and spin good, and dat was atter de war.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I live down dar on de Forest (creek) in 'Patterac'. My house ain't fer +from McBeth School. De mail box in Mr. Charlie Ray's yard, 'bout fo' +miles from Patterac. I walks fer dat mail, dat ain't fer. Not long ago I +walked to Union and dat twelve miles. At dat you see I doesn't consider +fo' miles fer.</p> +<p class="pnext">"And Marse Johnny Meadow was my Marse when I was five years old. From +den on, I 'members fer myself and I does not have to take what old folks +say, but as you knows, from dar back it is as I is heard it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yankee Carpetbagger or something come 'round and 'lowed to our +overseers dat us have to come to Union Courthouse on a certain day. Us +went in all de wagons. From de winding stairs, a man say, 'you is free; +you is free; you is free as your marsters is.' Grandma Julie grab me and +say, 'Boy, you is free; you is free; clap your hands.' Dat never meant +much to me and atter us got in de wagon to go home, grandma 'low dat she +sorry she so free and footloose. Next day us went to work as usual. Some +strange folks and trashy niggers and po' white folks dat ain't never had +nothing, would come to see us and tell us to stop work, but dat never +meant nothing to us. Us all stayed on and gathered de crops.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Next year maw and her maw went to de Mabry Thomas plantation in Santuc +to work fer a fourth. My pa stayed at de Meadow plantation. I went wid +my maw, but I also stayed wid my pa and his ma some. Atter dat, when +ma's maw died she went back to pa and dey worked fer a fourth; and de +older boys hired to de big house fer wages. I come up to manhood and I +been down dar on de Patterac ever since. I live near Charlie Giles, and +dey done tuck his picture kaise he so old and wise.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Paw name in full, Griffin George Meadow, and ma's is Alice Brice +Meadow. She brought from de state of Delaware, and pa was brought from +de state of Virginny. I's heard both say dat dere parents was brung all +de way from Africa. Mr. Bonny Trippling fetched both my ma and pa to +South Carolina atter dey was married. I 'member my grand-daddy, my ma's +daddy. He was furs' George Brice; then Marse Meadow bought him and he +was George Meadow.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My grandpa went to Mississippi on his own expenses atter de Confederate +War and took his wife wid him. Her name was Mahala; and her two girls, +Sara and Jane, and two sons, Henry and George, went along. Dey went on a +little train. It was new here den, and dey say dat it was de first train +dat ever went through de state of Mississippi. De first train dat I ever +saw, was de one on de Southern Railroad, from Spartanburg to Union. It +run to Columbia den, and my first ride was from Santuc to Union. I set +betwist my daddy's legs on de train and dat de best ride dat I ever had +and I'll never forget it. It was de fastes' thing dat had ever gone +through dis country. When it started off, I hollored as I was so scared. +Atter it got its speed, I thought de woods was leaving me and I held +tight to my daddy's knees, couldn't hardly get my breath. It didn't take +any time to get to Union, fact, befo' I got used to it we was at de +station and my daddy told me dat we had to get off. When we got off I +could get my breath again, but I felt funny all de rest of de day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I has a brother, Luke, dat lives near Lockhart, S.C., and another +brother, Jimmie, lives in New York. Dat is all dat I has living.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All de darkies on de plantation lived a good life. De ladies had me to +pick up trash for de stove and fireplaces in de winter time. Marse Bee +was Miss Lizzie and Marse John's son. All de time I stayed 'round de +kitchen and got water and eat from de kitchen and had a good time until +Marse and Missus died. Dey give me plenty of food, clothes, a good house +and good clean bed. We made our bed clothes on de home looms wid wool +from our marster's sheep. De barns was always full and so was de +smokehouse.</p> +<p class="pnext">"For our summer clothes we plaited de hanks to make a mixtry of colors. +De winter clothes was heavy, drab and plain. Our dyes was made from bark +skinned from de maple trees. Dis was mixed with copperas for a pretty +yellow. Green dye was bought from a store in Union, and de filling for +de garments was also store-bought. I carded and spun and wove a many a +day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We slept on straw ticks in summer, made from de wheat, and on feather +beds in winter. De quilts was warm and made from many pretty home-made +patterns. Lightwood knots give de only light at night. 'Puff' from flint +rock give de first sparks. A piece of old iron or hard rock was used to +strike de sparks wid, don't know why it was called 'puff'. Fire was kept +in de kitchen hearth all de year as a usual thing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De overseer would 'hoop us up every morning, but we didn't work late at +night. We went to de white folks' church at Harden's Ferry near de old +Jeter graveyard. Church and ferry gone now. We also went to Sunday +school. Every two or three afternoons in summer, Marster and Missus call +us all on de kitchen porch and read de Bible and pray and tell us 'bout +our Sunday school lesson. In winter we went in de kitchen where I built +a big fire, to hear de Bible read. We was Methodist. My favorite +preacher was a big black African named Williams who come to preach in de +darky church for us every now and den. Dat was Jeter Chapel.</p> +<p class="pnext">"First time dat I went to a baptizing was to see it at de white folks' +church, Kelly Chapel. I went wid my ma and pa to see Mr. Cain and some +Jones baptized. A box-pool had been built in de branch about half a mile +from de church. De people draped in white was taken to dis pool and +dipped, although it was a Methodist church. Sheets was hung up for a +dressing-room. When dey come out of de pool dey dressed in regular +clothes. It was warm weather and lots of folks had to be baptized and a +lot of people was dere to see it done.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some years later, I went to see some darkies baptized for the first +time. I had to walk a long ways. I don't go to church much now because +my legs don't 'low me to walk to church."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="albert-means"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id56">Albert Means</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Albert Means (91)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Union, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">OLD CUSTOMS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Sho' wuz' born in '46, das' whut my white folks says. I calls myself +97, but dat' don't make no'diffunt, 'bout a few years. I lives near +Monarch, on whut's still called the Ben Brandon place. Mr. Ben had a +sister, Mis' Polly. Deys' de aunt and uncle to Mis' Emma Brandon. Mr. +Ben had two overseers, Mr. Caleb and Mr. Neal Willard, deys' both +Willards. Yes suh' dey' sho' wuz'. Bofe wuz very kind mens.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse' Ben nebber' 'low' much whippin', and he wuz as good a man as +anybody has ever seed'. But one day us nigger' boys hopped into a fight. +Marse' Ben done his own whippin' den'. And dats' de onliest' time dat' I +is ever knowed' of anybody on all dem' plantations to be whipped.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse Ben had a small house. Didn't nobody live dar' but him and his +sister. Den' she up and went to Kennedy's on de Meansville road. Dat' +place wuz' called in Dem' days 'Cedar Grove'. T'ain't much dar' now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'se named Albert, 'case my pa belong to Marse Albert Means. I wuz +always a field-hand. Marse Ben let me eat from his table after his +sister went to 'Cedar Grove', kaze' wad'n nobody dar' in the house wid' +him. 'Cindy' Brandon wuz de woman dat' cooked for us. My mother always +belonged to de' Brandons, and my pa never 'longed to nobody but Marse +Albert Means. My Marster' had only one body slave whose name was Keith. +He was born, lived and died and was buried on the plantation. Marse Ben +also had a cousin whose name was Marse Keith. When he died he gave all +his slaves to Marse' Ben, and this is how Keith became my Masters' body +slave. All Marse Ben had he left to his young neice Miss Emma Brandon, +and to his cousins Miss Hettie, and Miss Mary Emma Foster.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On Sunday we get the best things to eat of any day in the week. +Sometimes we were allowed to go to church with our white folks at old +Brown's Creek. We sit in the gallery. Dey' don't have none at all now. +'Cindy' go to church too. When 'Cindy' go to church us never had much to +eat. All de' slaves is buried in de' Brandon's Graveyard and dere's a +place fer me beside my first wife. Oh! Lord yes I got my second wife and +she's a young gal', but she doos' whut I wants her to. My furs' wife +belonged to Marse Jim Ellis. De' preacher on the Ellis plantation +married me to Jane Ellis. Dem' wuz good times, 'caze' Marse had us plenty +to eat, good clothes to wear, and he gave us a new log house to live in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Captain Foster got de' two Brandon places. He owned the Will Beaty +Place and 'Cedar Grove'. He never owned slaves.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Me and Jane cooked in our fireplace. It had a big crane fer' de' pot to +hang on. We had a covered skillet to bake in, and a frying skillet. Us +never cooked on Sunday, but made pones on Saturday. We made our Yeast of +meal and hop-vine."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="andrew-means"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id57">Andrew Means</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Uncle Andrew Means, age 80</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Route #4; Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Andrew Means, when approached, held a baby in his arms and moved very +slowly around in his front yard. He was asked if the babe was his +grandchild or his great-grandchild, as the old darky had previously +stated his age as eighty. He replied that it was his own and he pointed +out another child playing in the yard whom he said was his also. He +stated, "I'se been married twice. I had fifteen children by my first +wife, and these two are by my second wife. She is a young woman. But +I'se sick now, 'cause I had two strokes of paralysis and I can't do +much".</p> +<p class="pnext">He remembered some things during slavery times. His mother belonged to +Dock Murph's father. "I don't recollect his name", he said: "but I was +born on a plantation down about White Stone on Mr. Murph's place". He +stated his mother lived in a two-room log house with board floors. "My +mother and my father separated, and he got killed in Florida. One day my +father came there to take me with him, but I wouldn't go. I stayed with +my mammy. She was a hoshand, and used to do washing around the house; +she did some cooking, too. She used to pick cotton. We raised plenty of +cotton; made good crops."</p> +<p class="pnext">He said "I wonder what has become of the wild duck and the wild geese we +used to have? I used to see them coming over de house, stretched out one +right behind the other. There was plenty of duck and geese, but you +don't see 'em now."</p> +<p class="pnext">When questioned further about slavery times, he said, "I was so little, +too little to work. I was playing marbles and pitching horse shoes. One +day I looked up and I seed soldiers running their horses down the road +in my direction and I got scared. They had on blue hats, or caps, but I +don't recollect what kind of clothes they had on, but I remember the +blue caps with a stiff front to it. No, Sir, they didn't do nothing at +the house. Some of dem asked for something to eat, but when we didn't +have anything to eat they couldn't get it, so rode on. I was so scared +and my heart was beating so when I seed 'em coming I just lit out on a +run." (At this point he laughed heartily to himself.) "I ran so hard and +was so scared I run over and knocked down two railings on de fence, den +I crawled under de bed."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked how the darkies got married in those days, he said: "They had +to do the best they could. People didn't get married at that time like +they do now."</p> +<p class="pnext">He said he had heard of some of the slaves getting whippings, but he had +a good master; he never saw a nigger get a whipping. "But I heard of it +on some places".</p> +<p class="pnext">He never went to white folks' church when he got big enough to go to +church, but the first church he went to was a colored church.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, Sir, I never seed a ghost, but one night when me and another fellow +was going 'possum hunting, I saw something, but I don't know what it +was. De dogs treed a 'possum and laid down at de foot of the tree and +just barked. Torectly something flew down out of the top of de tree and +fought de dogs. It just tore them into shoe-strings—their ears and +sides was all torn to shoe-strings. Some of de dogs didn't get back 'til +next morning and they was all cut up. When dat thing came out de tree I +left there. We didn't stay. It looked bigger than a bear. Maybe it was a +ghost.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The 'paterollers' didn't give us much trouble as long as we had a +pass."</p> +<p class="pnext">He stated he had never heard of Abe Lincoln or Jeff Davis but he +recollected when Garfield was President.</p> +<p class="pnext">When he was passed a little change, he said, "Thank you, Sir; come +again, come to see me again."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jason-miller"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id58">Jason Miller</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Jason Miller</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Stiles M. Scruggs, Columbia, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">STORY OF HIS GRANDMOTHER'S PRAYER</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Jason Miller, a dark-colored Negro 77 years old, lives on a farm five +and a half miles from Eastover, S.C., and claims that he is a grandson +of Nancy Williams, whose prayer saved a ship at sea.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My daddy was Thomas Miller and my mammy was Bernice Williams Miller, de +youngest daughter of Nancy Williams. I was born in Orangeburg County in +1860, on de farm where we lived at dat time. My mammy die when I was +'bout turnin' into 16 years old and my daddy never marry no more.</p> +<p class="pnext">"He owns 'bout 15 acres and de house we lives in and he rent more land +close to us. We 'most always has plenty to eat and wear, 'cause we works +de land and keeps it fit to produce food and money crops. When my daddy +got too old to work much, me and my wife and our two chillun was livin' +wid him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"He never turn over de home nor de lands to me while he was livin' and I +follow right in his tracks. I owns a house and 31 acres and my son and +his wife and two chillun live wid me. My wife die nigh on to 15 years +ago, but I is still single and right glad of it. I now owns de farm and +is still boss dere. I has a reason for not turnin' them over while I +lives.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I has seen many cases, where de head of de house turn over all his +belongin's to de son who move in. In most of dese cases, de head of de +house become no more pow'ful than a child and often when he give it all +out, he get sent to de poorhouse, to boot.</p> +<p class="pnext">"So I still holds de whuphand for keepin' de peace and countin' one, +besides. Tom does most of de sowin', plowin', and reapin'. I still +makes a hand, choppin' or pickin' cotton and I digs de 'taters, too. And +when it come to sellin', why I cracks de whup, 'stead of bein' on de +beggin' side at home.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, sah, my daddy was a slave and I was born a slave. My grandmammy, +Nancy Williams, was set plum free by her Marster Williams at Charleston, +when she was just a little gal, lak. She still stay wid dis fine +seagoin' family, and dat's why she was a stewardess on de ship, where +Marster Williams was de captain.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De ship was makin' de return trip from Wilmington, N.C. to Charleston, +S.C. in 1847, when de big storm break on de sea. De biggest story 'bout +what happen am told by Senator A.P. Butler, who was a passenger. My wife +tell me, too. She say Senator Butler always look up and speak to my +grandmammy when he come to Charleston and she say de Senator give +grandmammy money, widout her askin' for it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My grandmammy sho' was known to white and black folks at Charleston and +Wilmington as a Christian woman. She talk and pray for de seamen at both +ports and when she livin' in Charleston, too old to serve de ship +longer, de sailors often come to see her and fetch her presents of +candy, coffee, flour, sugar, blankets and such as they thought she need. +When she die, my wife say de sailors carry de coffin to de grave and +weep.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As de storm tale come to me from my wife, who git it from her mammy, +Nancy Williams, it 'bout lak dis: De ship carry folks and produce from +Charleston to Wilmington and git a load of folks and produce at +Wilmington, for Charleston. 'Bout 100 miles south of Wilmington a big +storm rage, lightin' flash and de waves roll mountain high. De ship +wobble, first on one end and then on de other, a squeakin' awful. +Pretty soon de fires wetted out and it was out of man control. But it +still pitchin' pow'ful.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Knowin' all dis, Marster Williams summon all on deck and tell them de +ship am doomed. Then he say to them: 'All you standin' side by each, git +'quainted, so if anybody git to land, they can tell what become of us!'</p> +<p class="pnext">"It was then dat my grandmammy, de stewardess, step fo'ward and say: +'Marster Williams, dis am no time to git 'quainted! What we all better +do is to kneel down and pray.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"'I can't pray,' say Marster Williams. 'If you can pray, Stewardess, go +ahead!'</p> +<p class="pnext">"All de passengers and crew was standin' dere silent and tremblin'. +Grandmammy fall on her knees and pray: 'Oh, God! We, thy erring chillun +can do nothin'. You can do ever'thing. Save us, if it be Thy will but +Thy will be done, not ours! Amen!'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Then she rise up and smile sweet lak and 'bout dat time de light from a +rescue ship, sent out from Wilmington to aid us, grandmammy say, shine +in on us. All was saved. Many, white and black, sho' say grandmammy's +prayer saved de ship and also say she am de only one who keep cool all +de time. Senator Butler, who was a passenger, talk wid me once 'bout it. +Long after he talk wid me, we git a book from Edgefield, in which +Senator Butler tell de story, praising my grandmammy. We has that book +at home now and no money could buy it."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="lucinda-miller"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id59">Lucinda Miller</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with "Aunt" Lucinda Miller</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">637 Cummings St., Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Calling on an ex-slave who was visiting at a neighbor' house, the writer +was surprised. She came out of the house briskly and jumped down the +front steps and came to greet the writer with a smile on her face. +"Aunt" Lucinda Miller stated she was between 10 and 11 years of age +"when she was sot free". That would make her about 82 years old now. She +was born in slavery, her mother being bought by Mat Alexander, who lived +about five miles from Hill's factory on the Main Tyger River, for $900. +Her father, who was a Linder, was owned by Bob Alexander, a brother of +Mat. He lived two or three plantations away. She stated that Bob +Alexander was known as a good master, but Mat was mean and cruel. She +has seen her mother "whooped" by the latter either with a buggy or wagon +trace, a piece of leather or anything her master could get his hands +upon. She said that she had never seen any slaves in chains, but her +master would whip the grown slaves, but never the small children. Her +work was light farm work, and working around the house. She would bring +water, wash the dishes, help make up the beds and such other work she +could required in the house. She says her master was a hard driver for +work to his slaves; that she knew nothing but work. When her master +thought that a slave was not working hard enough, he would whip him to +make him work much harder. All he thought of was work—work in cotton, +corn, peas, wheat, oats or whatever he raised. When asked about the +games she and the other children played, she replied that she didn't +have a chance to play, for there was something for her to do all the +time. She also said that Mat Alexander used to make his slaves work at +night and on Sundays. When the day's work was over, he would come to +their one-room log house and lock them up until next morning. He would +also lock up the well so they could have no drinking water during the +night. She had plenty to eat, such as it was, but flour was given to +them once a week, also a little meat, some molasses and corn meal. They +never had any sugar, and only got coffee when her father would bring it +to her mother. The white folks and the negroes ate from the same garden. +The slaves could not have a garden of their own. They also went to the +same church, but none of the white folks taught the slaves anything +about reading. She said that she saw "a pair of niggers" get married on +the plantation by a white preacher. There were no negro preachers. +Patrollers did not bother any of the four or five slave families on the +Alexander place, for Mat Alexander was his own patroller. Patrollers +from one plantation had nothing to do with the negroes from another +plantation, as they could not even come on the other plantation unless +they had permission. When going to church, the slaves had to have passes +to attend church services.</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked how the Yankee soldiers behaved when they came by the farm, +she said, "a whole pastle of them came by the house one day. They asked +the Missus if she had any white bread and some honey." Upon being told +that she didn't have any of either, they asked for water. Aunt Lucinda +was told to bring them a bucket. She drew the water from the well and, +after filling it, she placed it on her head to carry it. The captain of +the soldiers told her he could not drink the water from the bucket on +her head, so made her place it on a stand. Then after the captain drank, +the rest did also. They then came on into the yard and went to the +stable, took a mule and rode it off, without saying anything. The missus +had heard what the soldiers would do when they came to a farm, so all +the valuables had been hidden. The horses were driven way back into the +woods, the food stuff and clothing was hidden about the place. She said +her mother was a good weaver and used to make lots of good clothes and +quilts, but all this was put into a hole and covered up with dirt to +keep the soldiers from taking it. Aunt Lucinda said the soldiers did not +tarry there long after looking about for horses and such, and soon left. +The only thing they got was the mule that was in the stable. When all +the slaves were told by their master that they were free, they all +wanted to get away from him, but stayed until the planted crops were +harvested; then went to another place. Her father took her mother and +his five children to live with him on another farm where they stayed for +fourteen years. When they left, the Missus gave them 10 bushels of corn, +3 gallons of molasses etc. That was all her mother received for staying +on after emancipation. Aunt Lucinda stated that she was known as Lucinda +Alexander while a slave; then took her father's name until she was +married, when she became a Miller. Her father used to hunt rabbits and +opossums and bring them to his wife, her mother. She said that wild +turkeys were plentiful, as she had often seen them flying around in the +woods at the lower edge of the farm. She didn't know how many acres were +in the farm, but the master worked 6 horses. She remembers that Mat +Alexander was very mean, and would not get a doctor to a sick slave +until he dropped in the fields. They had to work even if they were +sick.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="cureton-milling"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id60">Cureton Milling</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Cureton Milling, 80 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Winnsboro, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I live about ten miles from dis town on de Jim Turner place; though he +dead they still calls it de Jim Turner place. My pappy name Jeff, mammy +name Dolly. Dat a lovely name in dis old mind yit, please God. +Gran'mammy Peggy another good name I's got to recommen' to you, boss.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, us all b'longs to de same marster, Levi Bolicks. Guess you'd heard +tell of dat man. Mistress named Martha, angel of light tied up to de +prince of darkness, so it was. They had one child, Little Miss, who +growed up and married a Stevenson.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was just a little shrimp durin' slavery time; tote water and ride +behin' in de buggy to hold marster's hoss when he gits out. My mammy +live in a one-room house; it had no flo' but de one de Lord create in de +beginnin', de natural born earth, it was.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What they give us to eat? Us got plenty, sich as it was. Marster Levi +kept his niggers fat, just like he keep his hogs and hosses fat, he did. +He had a passel of slaves and as his plantation was small he just run +four plows, kept a ridin' hoss and a single buggy, and raise slaves to +sell.</p> +<p class="pnext">"He was sellin' de oldest ones away from de younger ones, all time goin' +along, 'pears to me. Sometime I think he was de very old Nick turned +loose in de earth for a season.</p> +<p class="pnext">"How I explainin' dat? It's dis way: He take 'vantage of de young gal +slaves. 'You go yonder and shell corn in de crib,' he say to one of +them. He's de marster so she have to go. Then he send de others to work +some other place, then he go to de crib. He did dis to my very aunt and +she had a mulatto boy dat took his name and live right in dis town +after freedom. Marster was doin' dis devilment all de time and gwine to +Presbyterian Church at Salem every Sunday; dat make it look worse to me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Outside dis, and sellin' and partin' mothers and chillun, him was a +pretty good slave marster. He marry Miss Martha Clark and had nice +pretty home. He give us good clothes. Shoes? De shoes was made on de +place; they had wooden bottoms, no spring to them. He gave us one day +durin' Christmas, for a dance. Us had Doctor Martin to 'tend us. He was +son-in-law to old Captain Stitt, another bad man that give trouble just +like my marster.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What about de Yankees? Two come first, and rode up to de kitchen, rode +right up to de steps and say: 'Where de silver? Where de gold rings and +jewelry you got hid for de white folks? Tell us or us'll beat you worse +than you ever get beat from de lash of de patrollers.' They was as good +as they words; they gets down and grab us and make us tell all us know.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Where old marster? He done burnt de wind in his buggy wid de very +things de Yankees asked for and refugeed somewhere away, sah. Did he go +to war, my old marster? No sirree! He wasn't dat kind; him hire a +substitute.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After de war was over, freedom come, and with it de excitement of white +folks comin' down here and havin' us believe us just as good as white +folks. I have lived to see it was all a mistake. Then come de Ku Klux +and scared some sense into my color. Then come Hampton and de Red +Shirts. Had they a black shirt I don't believe niggers would ever have +took to it. 'Dog for bread, nigger for red', they likes dat color.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In them days of parades by day and torch light processions by night, +when de niggers was asked to jine, offered a hoss to ride, knowed dere +would be a drink of red-eye on de way, and then was handed one of them +red shirts. What you 'spect dat nigger to do? I knowed. He's gwine to +put on dat red shirt, dat red-eye gwine give him over to de democrats, +and dis was de way dat Hampton was 'lected. But it never would have done +to have a black shirt, no sir; I's sure of dat. Dat would have had no +'peal to our color. They is too black already to suit de most of them.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When Hampton was 'lected I git an idea of settlin' down. I picks de +plumpest woman I could find and her had a name dat seem music then to +me. It was Roxanna. She allow I was a handsome man, and I was fool +enough then to believe her. But one day she brung home a ten-cent +lookin' glass from Winnsboro. I say to her when I takes a look in it, +'Who dis I see in here?' She says 'Dat's you, honey.' I say: 'No, Roxie, +it can't be me. Looks like one of them apes or monkeys I see in John +Robinson's circus parade last November.' Dere's been a disapp'intment +'bout my looks ever since, and when my wife die I never marry again.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All our boys are dead 'cept Laurens. He live in Charlotte, and I got a +sister dat marry Ike Austin and live on de Aiken place. I piddles along +wid de white folks and live in a little house by myself, waitin' for God +to call me home."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="abbey-mishow"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id61">Abbey Mishow</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Abbey Mishow</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">9 Rose Lane, Charleston, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Jessie A. Butler, Charleston, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Among the few ex-slaves still living, irrespective of their age at the +close of the War Between the States, the line is still very closely +drawn between house servants and their children, and the field hands. +Old white-haired Abbey Mishow has "misplaced de paper" telling her age +but though she claims to have been very small when the war broke out she +still maintains the dignity of a descendant of a house servant, nor will +she permit her listeners to forget this fact for an instant.</p> +<p class="pnext">When the writer called on her, unexpectedly, for an interview, she found +Abbey, her house, and grandchildren very clean and neat. There was none +of the musty, stale odor about the place common to Negro dwellings.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't remember much 'bout de plantation," said Abbey, "'cept dat dey +called it Waterford, and dey planted rice. You see I been jest uh leetle +gal; I can't lie and say I remember. I been jest 'bout so high." She +indicated about the size of a five or six year old child. "I ain't had +no reason for study 'bout um and 'press it on my mind. My mudder died +w'en I was almost uh baby; she was de tailor and seamstress for our +people. De missus promise my ma to tek care of me, and she sho' did. I +was raise just like a pet. De fust crack out of me dat window sash gwine +to heist to find out what ail me. I hardly miss my ma, no mudder +couldn't treat me better dan I treat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We been b'long to Miss (Mrs.) Reese Ford, what live at Waterford +plantation, on the Black River," (Georgetown County) Abbey stated. As +she mentioned the name of the old "missus," and enumerated the names of +her erstwhile owners, Miss Sarah, Miss Clara, Miss Henney, Mr. Willie +and Mr. Reesey, Abbey's old, wrinkled, black face softened with memories +and her voice became gentle as she told of the care and kindness she had +received.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't know nothing 'bout de war", she continued. "I was purtected, +and tek to de city. I didn't hab nothing to bodder my mind and mek me +remember dose days. Mr. Willie lose he arm in de war. I is see de +soldiers but I been tek care of. I been spoiled and didn't hab no +interest in worryment.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't know nothing about de street on de plantation, and what dey do +dere, 'cause I ain't had no 'casion for go dere. I raise in de yard, I +didn't wear de kind ob clothes de field-hand chillen wear, and I get my +dinner from de kitchen. I don't know nothing 'bout crops 'cause we +summered." (The family spent the summers at Plantersville, a resort +frequented by the planters of the day) "You see I been leetle, dey +didn't 'low me out de yard, I jest tek notes 'round sometimes. I tell +you I bin spoiled, I raise onderneat' Miss Clara dem (and them). I +nebber had no idea t'ings would ebber be like dis. I ain't got no man, +and no boy, nor no kinnery to help me, nor to do nothing for me, only +one weak daughter and she ain't much good. All de nation dead, t'ain't +nobody left but me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Is I ebber see a ghost? No ma'am, I is hear 'bout dem but I nebber see +um. I ain't had 'casion to go out in de night time. I hear Plat-Eye dere +but only dem what has to trabble round see um. I believe in my Jesus, +yes ma'am, if it ain't been for Him how I lib?"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="sam-mitchell"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id62">Sam Mitchell</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sam Mitchell, age 87</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mrs. Chlotilde R. Martin, Beaufort County</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"W'en war come, I been minding cow for my master. My father been Moses +Mitchell and my mother been Tyra Mitchell. We belong to John Chaplin and +lib on Woodlawn plantation on Ladies Island. Mr. Chaplin had seven +plantation. He lib at Brickyaa'd plantation in winter and in Beaufort in +summer. He hab many slave, but I don't know how many. As near as I can +remember, dey been fifteen slave on Woodlawn plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De slave lib on de Street, each cabin had two room. De Master don't gib +you nutting for yo' house—you hab to git dat de best way you can. In +our house was bed, table and bench to sit on. My father mek dem. My +mother had fourteen chillen—us sleep on floor.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Eb'ry Chuesday, de Master gib each slave a peck ob corn. W'en potato +dug, we git potato. Two time in de year we git six yaa'd ob cloth, +calico in spring and homespun in de winter. Once a year we git shoe. De +slave had 'bout two task ob land to cultivate for se'f in w'at call +Nigger field. Could raise one pig.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All my mother chillen dead 'cept me and one sister Rhina, who lib wid +me. She 80 year old.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My father hab a boat and he gone fishing at night and sell fish. Master +let him cut post and wood at night and sell, too. He had to do dis work +at night 'cause in daytime he have to do his task. He was carpenter, but +w'en dey was no carpentry work to do on de plantation, he plow. My +mudder hoe. Little boy and old man mind cow. Little girl and old 'ooman +mind baby.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On Woodlawn dey was no overseer. We had nigger driver. Maussa didn't +'low mucher whipping, but slave had to do task. If didn't, den he git +whipping. Driver do whipping, but if he whip too sewerely, Maussa would +sometime tek field hand and mek him driver and put driver in field.</p> +<p class="pnext">"If a slave was sick, Maussa would come and see w'at was de matter. +Sometimes he would give de slave jollip to mek him womit (vomit), +sometimes if he had fever, he would gib him hippo. If he was sick, the +Master would tek him to Beaufort to de doctor. If a 'ooman slave sick, +Big Missis would go and see dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slave had only one holiday in de year. Dat Christmas day. Maussa would +kill a cow on every plantation on Christmas and gib all de slave some.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On Maussa John Chaplin plantation slave have to tell him soon as dey +begin to co't. If Maussa say 'No, you can't marry dat gal', den dat +settle it, you can't marry um. He don't lak his slave to marry slave on +nodder puson plantation, but if you do den you hab pass to wisit yo' +wife. W'en slave marry, w'ite preacher marry um in de Maussa house, but +Maussa don't gib you anyt'ing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slave had dey own chu'ch on plantation wid nigger preacher, but on +'munion Sunday, you had to go to w'ite folks chu'ch in Beaufort and sit +up stair.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey wasn't no jailhouse on de plantation, but dey was a barn w'ere +sometimes Maussa put slave w'en dey been bad. I never saw any slaves +sold, but I hear tell of de banjo table.</p> +<p class="pnext">"W'en slave die, Maussa let me berry um in de daytime, 'do some Maussa +mek dem wait 'till night time. Nigger preacher preach funeral.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I staa't for mind cow w'en I been nine year old. W'en I been twelve, I +have for staa't wuk in field or cutting maash (marsh) or splitting rail. +Slave chillen play mud-pie, mek house out ob sand and secher t'ing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slave on Maussa plantation could come to Beaufort on Sattidy night, but +dey have to be back by 9 o'clock or patrol would get um.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Maussa had nine chillen, six boy been in Rebel army. Dat Wednesday in +November w'en gun fust shoot to Bay Pint (Point) I t'ought it been +t'under rolling, but dey ain't no cloud. My mother say, 'son, dat ain't +no t'under, dat Yankee come to gib you Freedom.' I been so glad, I jump +up and down and run. My father been splitting rail and Maussa come from +Beaufort in de carriage and tear by him yelling for de driver. He told +de driver to git his eight-oar boat name Tarrify and carry him to +Charleston. My father he run to his house and tell my mother w'at Maussa +say. My mother say, 'You ain't gonna row no boat to Charleston, you go +out dat back door and keep a-going. So my father he did so and w'en dey +git 'nuf nigger to row boat and Maussa and his family go right away to +Charleston.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After Freedom come everybody do as he please. De Yankee open school for +nigger and teacher lib in Maussa house to Brickyaa'd. My father git job +as carpenter wid Yankee and buy ten acre ob land on Ladies Island.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I been married two time. My last wife, Florence, living right here in +Beaufort, but she left me long time ago. I hab two chillen, one daughter +live to Philadelphy and de odder lib on Ladies Island. I got four +grand-chillen, all ob dem grown.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Did I ebber hear ob Abraham Lincoln? I got his history right here in my +house. He was de president of de United States that freed four million +slave. He come to Beaufort befo' de war and et dinner to Col. Paul +Hamilton house at de Oaks. He left his gold-headed walking cane dere and +ain't nobody know de president of de United States been to Beaufort +'till he write back and tell um to look behind de door and send um his +gold-headed walking cane.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Jefferson Davis? He been de Democrack president.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Booker T. Washington? He wasn't no president, but he was a great man. I +hear him speak once in de cemetery in Beaufort.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What do I t'ink ob slavery? I t'ink slavery is jest a murdering of de +people. I t'ink Freedom been a great gift. I lak my Maussa and I guess +he was as good to his slave as he could be, but I ruther (rather) be +free."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="charity-moore"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id63">Charity Moore</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Charity Moore, 75 years</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">One quarter of a mile north of Woodward station and one hundred yards +east of US #21, is the beautiful residence of Mr. T.W. Brice. In the +back yard is a two-room frame house. In this house lives Charity Moore +and another aged Negro woman, said to be an octogenarian. They occupy +the house together and exist on the goodness and charity of Mr. Brice. +Charity was born a slave of Mr. Brice's father and has lived all her +days in his immediate family.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Don't you 'member my pa, Isaiah Moore? Course you does! He was de Uncle +Remus of all de white chillun 'round dese parts. He sho' was! I seen him +a settin' wid you, Marse Johnnie, Marse Boyce, and Dickie Brice, in de +back yard many a time. You all was askin' him questions 'bout de tale he +was a tellin' and him shakin' his sides a laughin'. He telled all them +tales 'bout de fox and de rabbit, de squirrel, brer tarrapin, and sich +lak, long befo' they come out in a book. He sho' did!</p> +<p class="pnext">"My ma name Nancy, dat was pa's wedded wife. Dere was no bigamous nor +concubine business goin' on wid us. My brothers was Dave, Solomon, +Fortune, Charlie, and Brice. My sisters was Haley, Fannie, Sarah, +Frances, Mary, and Margaret. Hold your writin' dere a minute. Dere was +thirteen. O yes, I left out Teeta. Dat rounds them up, a baker's dozen, +Marse Thomas use to 'low.</p> +<p class="pnext">"White folks, my pa had Bible tales he never told de white chillun. Did +you know dat my pa know de catechism from cover to cover, and from de +back end to de startin' end? Concord Church gived him a Bible for +answering every question in the catechism. Here 'tis. (Producing +catechism published and dated 1840). My pa maybe never telled you any +Bible tales he told de colored chillun. He 'low dat de fust man, Adam, +was a black man. Eve was ginger cake color, wid long black hair down to +her ankles. Dat Adam had just one worriment in de garden and dat was his +kinky hair. Eve hate to see him sad, 'cause her love her husband as all +wives ought to do, if they don't.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, Adam play wid Eve's hair; run his fingers through it and sigh. +Eve couldn't do dat wid his kinky hair. De debbil set up in de plum +bushes and took notice of de trouble goin' on. Every day Eve's hair +growed longer and longer. Adam git sadder and sadder. De debbil in de +plum bushes git gladder and gladder. Dere come a day dat Adam 'scused +hisself from promenadin' in 'mong de flower beds wid his arms 'round +Eve, a holding up her hair. De debbil took de shape of a serpent, glided +after Eve, and stole up and twisted hisself up into dat hair far enough +to whisper in one of them pretty ears: 'Somebody's got something for to +tell you, dat will make Adam glad and like hisself agin! Keep your ears +open all day long.' Then de serpent distangled hisself, drapped to de +ground, and skeedaddled to de red apple tree, close by de fountain. He +knowed dat Eve was gwine dere to bathe. He beat her dere, 'cause she was +walkin' sorta slow, grievin' 'bout Adam and thinkin' 'bout how to cheer +him up. When she got dere, de old debbil done changed from a snake to a +angel of light, a male angel, I reckon. He took off his silk beaver hat, +flourished his gold headed cane, and 'low: 'Good mornin'! Lovely day! +What a beautiful apple, just in your reach too, ahem'! Eve say: 'I's not +been introduced,' 'Well', said de debbil, 'My subjects call me Prince, +'cause I's de Prince of light. My given name is Lucifer. I's at your +service, dear lady.' Eve 'flected: 'A prince, he'll be a king some day.' +Then de debbil say: 'Of course, one of your beauty will one day be a +queen. I seen a sadness on your lovely face as you come 'long. What +might be your worry?' Eve told him and he 'low: 'Just git Adam to eat +one bite out dat apple 'bove your head and in a night his hair will grow +as long, be as black, and as straight as your'n.' She 'low: 'Us ain't +'lowed to eat of de fruit of de tree in de midst of de garden. Us dare +not tech it, lest us die.' Then Satan stepped a distance dis way, then +another way and come back and say: 'Gracious lady! Dis tree not in de +midst of de garden. De one in de midst is dat crabapple tree over +yonder. Of course de good Lord didn't want you to eat crabapples.' De +debbil done got her all mixed up. De apple looked so good, she reached +up, and quick as you can say 'Jack Robinson,' she bite de apple and run +to Adam wid de rest of it and say: 'Husband eat quick and your hair will +be as long, as black, and straight as mine, in de mornin'.' While he was +eatin' it, and takin' de last swallow of de apple, he was 'minded of de +disobedience and choked twice. Ever since then, a man have a 'Adam's +Apple' to 'mind him of de sin of disobedience. Twasn't long befo' de +Lord come alookin' for them. Adam got so scared his face turned white, +right then, and next mornin' he was a white man wid long hair but worse +off than when he was a nigger. Dere was more to dat tale but I +disremember it now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I's livin' wid my young marster, Thomas, now. He took good care of my +pa, when he got so old and feeble he couldn't work no more. God'll bless +Marse Tommie for all his goodness. When Pa Isaiah come to die, Marse +Tommie come every day. One day in leavin', he said in his gruff, kind +way: 'Is dere anything I can do for you Uncle Isaiah?' Pa say: 'Take +care of Charity.' 'I will,' say Marse Tommie. Then he 'low: 'Ain't dere +something else?' 'Yes,' pa 'low, 'I want a white stone over de head of +my grave.' 'What must I put on de stone,' asked Marse Tommie? 'Just my +name and age,' said pa. 'Oh yes, dere ought to be something else,' says +Marse Tommie. Pa shook his head. 'I want something else on it Uncle +Isaiah,' said Marse Tommie. Wid a tear and a smile, pa raised his white +head and said: 'You can put down, below de name and age, just dis: 'As +good as ever fluttered.' And dat stone at Concord Cemetery 'tract more +'tention then any stone and epitaph in dat churchyard. Why, de white +folks puts flowers on it sometimes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I wonder sometime in de winter nights, as de north wind blows 'bout de +cracks in de house, if pa is warm and in Abraham's bosom. But I knows +pa; he's 'umble. There's so many white folks in dat bosom he'll just be +content to lie in Isaac's bosom or maybe de prophet Isaiah's, for who he +was named.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wait dere! You have bad luck to leave by dat door. You comed in by dis +door and you just leave by de same door. Some folks say nothin' to dat +but I don't want you to risk dat. Glad you come. Good bye."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="sena-moore"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id64">Sena Moore</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sena Moore, 83 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Sena Moore lives alone, in a one-room frame house about five miles +northeast of Winnsboro, S.C. She does seasonal work, such as hoeing and +picking cotton, of which she is still fully capable. She pays $2.00 per +month rent, for the house and vegetable garden spot.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sumpin' tell me to make haste and come here for to see you. How's you +dis mornin'? Mustn't forgit my manners, though I's wantin' to tell you +de ifs and hows and de ups and downs of dese many years dat I's been in +dis land of sorrow and tribulation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born in 1854, on de Gladney plantation. Was a pretty smart gal, +twelve years old, when de Yankees come through. Marse Riley have a Bible +out yonder at Jackson Creek dat show's I's eighty-three years old. His +aunty is a sister to my old marster, Jim Gladney. Miss Margaret married +a Paul but Miss Nancy and Miss Mary Ann, them two never marry, bless +God! De house out dere in Jackson Creek neighborhood.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy was George Stitt. My mammy was Phillis Gladney. My pappy was a +slave of de Stitt family; had to git a pass to come to see mammy. He +slipped in and out 'nough of times to have four chillun. Then de Stitts +took a notion to sell him to Arkansas. My mammy weep 'bout dat but what +could her do? Just nothin'. Old marster 'low: 'Plenty more good fish in +de sea, Phillis. Look 'round, set your cap, and maybe you'll 'tract one +dat'll give your heart comfort, bye and bye'. My full brudders was +Luther Stitt, Bill Stitt, and Levi Stitt. My mammy then take up wid a no +'count nigger name Bill James and had one child, a boy, name Jim. He +died long time ago.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us live in a log house wid a dirt floor and de cracks stop up wid mud. +It had a wooden chimney. De beds was saplin' pole beds. De ticks was +wheat straw, though most of de time us chillun sleep on de floor. My +marster not a big buckra; he just had a handful of slaves. Us had to +fight chinches, fleas, and skeeters (mosquitoes) 'most all night or 'til +they fill theyselves wid our blood. Then they take a rest and us git a +rest and slept. My grandpappy was one of de free niggers. Him was a +Stitt family nigger, a blue-eyed nigger.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Money? Lord help me, no! As I 'member, us had plenty to eat, sich as +peas, beans, greens, lye hominy, and 'lasses but no flour bread.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My young marster, Sam, was kilt in de war but Marse Tom went off and +settle in Arkansas.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What clothes us have? Just 'nough to hide our secret parts in summer. A +shirt for de boys and a slip-over for de gals. They was made out of +weave cloth, dat us spin of de cotton dat us picked out of de field. Wid +all de drawbacks, us was happy more then than now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us raise our own chickens and sing while us workin'. I never mind white +chillun callin' me 'nigger'. Dat was a nickname they call me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us was Presbyterians and b'long to de Jackson Creek Church, Lebanon. +Gallery was all 'round de up-stairs. Got a whippin' for goin' to sleep +up dere, one Sunday, and snorin'. In them days de preacher was powerful. +De folks mighty 'ticular when him come 'round and fill de back of his +buggy wid sumpin' of everything on de place, lak ham, chickens, eggs, +butter, marmalade, jelly, 'lasses, sugar, vegetables and fruit. Him put +in full time on Sunday though, preach 'bout two hours befo' he put on de +benediction.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What 'bout my courtin' days? Well, I had them, too. A Yankee want me to +go off wid him but I tell him no! Then when I 'fuse him, him 'suade +another gal to love him and leave wid him. Her come back to de place +six months later and had a baby by dat scamp man.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I was fifteen, I marry Bill Moore. Stood up wid him, dat day, in a +blue worsted dress and a red balmoral over a white tuck petticoat, and +under dat, a soft pique chemise wid no sleeves. Had on white stockin's +and low quarter shoes. I had sweet shrubs all through my hair and it +held them all night and de nex' night, too. Sill make a big laugh 'bout +it, while nosin' in my hair and smellin' them sweet shrubs.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dr. Turner was de doctor dat 'tended de Gladney's and de slaves on de +place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"How us git fire? Us git two flint rocks, hold lint cotton under them, +strike a spark, it drop down, set de cotton afire and then us fan it to +a blaze.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes sir, I see many good white men, more than I got fingers and toes, +but a low down white man can git low downer than a nigger man. A good +white lady telled me one time, dat a bad white woman is a sight worser +and more low downer than a bad nigger woman can ever git to be in dis +world. Now what you gonna day to dat, Mister? Well, if you have dat +notion too, us won't argue 'bout it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Does I believe de Savior has a remedy for de laks of sich women? Let me +think 'bout dat a little bit. De Savior has a cure for things, all +things. How come he ain't? Didn't he give a woman de livin' water at de +well and make her white as snow? Then he run seven devils out another +woman, for just sich sins as us is talkin' 'bout, Mister!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ku Klux? Does I 'member them? Dis left knee 'members them! One night de +big road full of us niggers was comin' from church. Just as us git to de +top of de hill us see, comin' up de hill, a long line of hosses, wid +riders dressed in pure white, hoods on deir heads, and painted false +faces. They busted into a gallop for us. I was wid my brudders, Luther +and Bill; they jump de side gully and got 'way in de woods. I jump but +de jump was poor as a cow, I reckon, and dis very leg crumple up. I lay +dere in my misery 'til daylight, and my brudder, Luther, come back and +carry me home. Dat word 'home' 'minds me I ought to be goin' dere now. +De Lord take a lakin' to you, and you to me! May you git to heaven when +you die and I git dat pension befo' I die. Amen!"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="silas-nelson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id65">Silas Nelson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Silas Nelson (74)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">R#2 Trenton, S.C., c/o Mr. Walter Marsh</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Fer 69 years Mis' Marsh done had me a-workin fer her roun the garden en +house. Course Mr. Marsh had ter work me in de field wid my boys. Us has +two mules, Joe an Delia. Dey stays in our lot. I plows a little but my +time is a wearin'. But I gits long 'Oh Key'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. George W. Wire tuk and died. I nursed him. I good to them all. I'se +different from any other mens. I never eats milk and butter. Ain't tuck +no medicine in thirty-five year. When sun set I is at my house every +day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lays down only 'bout two hours, dats nother way I is allus curious in +de fac' dat at nights I allus has somethin ter do. De boys jes sits and +looks at me and dey don't say nary a word, dey jes looks at me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Born in slavy, too little to tell much 'bout dat, cep I is different +from my chilluns. Dey calls me curious. My pa riz up four boys. Us had +four mules and hauled dirt to Graniteville evey day when us stayed +together. Three brothers older than me. I is allus been crazy 'bout +farmin, helped my paw evey day when I was young with everything.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I wuz young no man could turn me down a workin. Now it ain't none +that ken turn me down a 'walkin".</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="susan-nelson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id66">Susan Nelson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Susan Nelson</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">9 Trapman Street, Charleston, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Mrs. Arthur Lynah</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Ashley Avenue, Charleston, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Martha S. Pinckney, Charleston, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"FOREST", A FAITHFUL SERVANT</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan Nelson, 9 Trapman street, about eighty years old, daughter of +Paris ("Forest") and Christina Gibbs, is a fine type of trained house +servant. Tall, slim, and erect, she carries herself with dignity, and +curtsies with grace. Her color is dark brown, her features aquiline. She +seldom smiles.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I am the youngest of my family and they are all dead. I never had a +child. I was married in the Methodist Church, but my husband married +again. From the first I can remember, I lived in Charleston with my +mother and father. He had his freedom before the war and worked on the +Bay. When he came home from his days work he had a cot by the door where +he would lay down to rest, and all the time he used to tell me about +'those happy days', as he said. Ask Mrs. Arthur Lynah about my father; +she knows about him."</p> +<p class="pnext">Susan goes on with her story:—</p> +<p class="pnext">"My father belonged to Judge Prioleau and was trained to wait on the +table from the time he was a boy; and this is how he nearly got a +whippin'—his master liked 'Hoppin John' and there was some cold on the +table—you know 'Hoppin John'? His master told him to 'heat it'; he +thought his master said 'eat it', so he took it out and sat down and eat +it. When he went back his master asked him where was the 'Hoppin John'? +Paris say he eat it. His master was mad—after waitin' all that +time—and say he should have a whippin'. But Mistress say 'Oh, no, he is +young and didn't understand'; so he never got the whippin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Later he was taken from waitin' on table to be his master's +body-servant and that was when his name was changed. One of the young +ladies, his master's daughter, was named Alice, and when he called +'Paris', it sounded like 'Alice', so his master named him 'Forest' and +he kept the name from that time, for his first and his last name, and he +always went by the name of Forest until he died."</p> +<p class="pnext">He went abroad with Judge Pricleau as his body-servant, and traveled in +Europe. (Authority—Mrs. Arthur Lynah)</p> +<p class="pnext">"In later years, when his master was paralyzed, Forest was his +attendant; and when his master died, Forest watched by him all night. He +lay down under the couch—they used to lay them on couches then—and he +slept there and wouldn't leave him, and stayed there all night; and his +mistress came in the early morning and kissed his master, and she said +'you here, Forest' and he answered, 'yes, mistress.' After that, +everything was changed. His mistress wanted to give him his freedom, but +the rest of the family didn't agree to that, so he went to Savannah with +'Mas Charles'. But though he was treated well he was so homesick that he +couldn't stay. He thought of his mistress and of the old home, and of +his mother, and he ran away and came back to the Plantation. Mas Charles +was so mad when he came after him that he was ready to whip him; but +when he saw how happy they were he agreed to give Forest his freedom."</p> +<p class="pnext">Before the War Between the States Forest was married, living in +Charleston, and working on the Bay. Susan remembers her terror when the +shells of the Federal bombardment were bursting over the city, and +recalls holding out her arms for someone to hold her. Her father had +returned home one afternoon and was resting from a hard days work, when +a shell crashed through the walls of their little home on Tradd street, +and passed immediately over him as he lay on his cot. The neighbors came +rushing in thinking that everybody had been killed, but the shell had +passed through, shattering the house but leaving Forest unharmed. He +lived to the age of ninety-seven, valued and respected; his daughter +carries on his good reputation, and is known by the name of SUSAN +"FOREST."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="william-oliver"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id67">William Oliver</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview given by Uncle William Oliver, a boy in slavery time</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Murrells Inlet, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Genevieve W. Chandler, Murrells Inlet, Georgetown County, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Underground Railway? They give it that name being they had this way to +transfer the slaves. T.O. Jones was one of the officers. Growed up in +Illinois.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born in Horry—eight miles this side of Conway. The old Oliver +place. Father Caesar Oliver; Mother Janie. Mother born near Little +River—Jewitt place. Joe Jewitt raise my father. Had four brother, +twelve sister:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">One Trizvan</div> +<div class="line">Two Sarah</div> +<div class="line">Three Martha</div> +<div class="line">Four William</div> +<div class="line">Five Mary, the fifth</div> +<div class="line">Six Lizzie, the sixth</div> +<div class="line">Seven Emma, the seven</div> +<div class="line">Eighth Alice, the eighth</div> +<div class="line">Nine Joanna</div> +<div class="line">Ten Havilla</div> +<div class="line">Eleven Ella</div> +<div class="line">Twelve Redonia</div> +<div class="line">Thirteen Caesar</div> +<div class="line">Fourteen Zackie</div> +<div class="line">Fifteen Eddie</div> +<div class="line">Sixteen (He could not remember)</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Three boys so scattered about you can't tell anything about them. All +chimney, clay. All chimneys that day, clay. Moved right away soon as +Freedom came. Women done cooking and washing same as now. Shuck +mattress. My mother was a weaver. Old timey loom. Cotton and wool. +Sheckel (Shuttle?)</p> +<p class="pnext">"I remember one song my mother sang:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Do, Lord, remember me!</div> +<div class="line">Remember me when the year go round!</div> +<div class="line">Do, Lord, remember me!</div> +<div class="line">Why can't you die</div> +<div class="line">Like Jesus died?</div> +<div class="line">He laid in His grave!</div> +<div class="line">He crippled some.</div> +<div class="line">Some He saved.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I can't get it all.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My father head man on the plantation. Indigo? Cut the bush down. Put it +in sacks. Let it drip out. Call that indigo mud. Raise cattle and hogs +loose over the County. No cash money was give to slave. Had to get a +ticket. Hire they self out as stevedore—anywhere they could—and pay +Massa so much for the time. Smart slave do that. Oh, yes, my father do +that. If they keep themselves alive after freedom, they doing well.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Schooling? Only by night. And that couldn't be known. When he could +get any body to teach him 'ABC' but wasn't allowed to go to any +school.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We'd eat peas, rice, cornbread, rye bread, sweetbread. Most molasses. +Game was all over the woods. Everybody could hunt everybody land those +days. Hunting was free. When I come along had to work too hard to hunt. +Could get pike out the lakes. Go fishing Sabbath. That was day off. +Sunday free day. Wild turkey. 'Possum. Don't bother with no coon much. +'Possum and squirrel all we could get. Had our garden. Different bean and +collard. Turnip.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Clothes? Regular wool and cotton. Maple dye and indigo. Red, blue, +gray. Lot of gray. Big slave owners had a shoemaker. Plenty of hides. +Cow hides, deer hides.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I married, was working turpentine. Rent timber and cut boxes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The cruelest treatment I know of in the United States and all the other +states was done in the Southwestern states. Take New Orleans. Galveston? +Was fixing to get to Texas. Texas beat the country for cruelty. They +tell me when your Master and Missus in this country want to make you do +your task, they threaten to sell you to Texas. Had a regular 'Vanger +Range' in New Orleans. Place they keep the slaves and auction them off. +Man by the name of Perry Ann Marshall. He was sold out there. He told my +father he'd be out in the field in the morning—hoe in hand. Had to get +out there 'fore it was light, hoe in hand. Boss man there with whip. +When light enough to hoe, give order, 'Heads up!' Then lots of women +fell dead over the hoe. Give order. 'Heads up!' you chop! Breakfast +bring to you in the field. Set right there by you hoe and eat till he +say, 'Heads up!' When women fell dead, lie right there till night where +the body drop—till you knock off. That's Texas! I call Texas 'Hell.' +Even today black man can't get no first class ticket Texas!</p> +<p class="pnext">"When you come right down to the truth, we always got up fore day most +of time. You could go visiting other plantation, but must have you a +ticket. Patrol catch you they whip you."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="albert-oxner"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id68">Albert Oxner</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Albert Oxner (75)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C. RFD</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was raised in Newberry County, S.C. on de place of Mr. Chesley Davis, +near Indian Creek. I now live in a rented house in 'Helena'. My +grandmother come from Virginia. Old man Tom Davis who lived near Indian +Creek was a grandson of Chesley Davis. My daddy was Oxner, his first +name was Wash. My mother was named Sidney Davis. My first wife was Polly +Miller and de second was Mary Mangum.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse would whip his niggers, but he wasn't a hard man. I peeped around +de house once when I was a little boy and saw him whipping a slave.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We got our vegetables from de white folks garden. We never had any of +our own. We had plenty home-raised meats and flour. We made our own +clothes at home by carding, spinning and weaving. We dyed dem by making +dyes from de barks of trees or red clay.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse had a big plantation, and 75 to 100 slaves. My mother was de +house-maid. She never learned to read and write, and none of us did, +either.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We use to hunt rabbits, 'possums, wild turkeys and squirrels, and we +went fishing, too. We never had to work on Saturday afternoons or +Sundays unless we had to take fodder or straw to de barn to keep it from +getting wet.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Corn-shuckings and log-rollings was common in dem days. De workers had +supper when dey got through. Niggers went to white folks' churches and +set in de back or in de gallery. A few years atter de war, de niggers +made brush arbors to use for preaching.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Old man Chesley Davis and two of his boys sho liked to drink liquor. +His baby boy was bad to drink. We had barbecues in dem days and nearly +every man would get drunk.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Later on, old man Davis tried to preach. He preached some at de Baptist +church at Bush River, and at Fairview Baptist church, about four miles +above where he lived.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't remember much about de Ku Klux. I never saw any of dem. I +remember a little about de Red Shirts. I don't remember anything about +slaves getting forty acres of land and a mule when freedom come. Since +de war, de niggers have worked on farms and done odd jobs in +town."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ann-palmer"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id69">Ann Palmer</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Ann Palmer (90)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">120 N. Church St., Union, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"De cows lowed fer days befo' Will Abrams died. Dey got wusser and +wusser jes' right 'mediately befo' he died. De owls, dey had been +hollering in dis here holler down behind Miss Belle's house fer mo' dan +a month. One day Miss Belle, she 'lowed she ain't never heard so many +screech owls befo' dis in her life. I had done fetched her one of my +collards. We was a-talking out on de back porch.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I took and told her 'bout how Will had done got his finger infected +fooling wid dem dead folks. Miss Belle, she say dat ain't got nothing to +do wid Will being sick. She also 'lowed dat dat wasn't any reason fer +dem owls a-screeching and gwine on so. Den I told her, I says, 'Miss +Belle, ain't you heard de cows, how dey lows at night here recently? +Yes'm, all dese is death signs; it ain't gwine be long neither befo' we +hears 'bout somebody a-dying in dese here parts.' Miss Belle, she look +at me sort of furious like, but she never say nothing dat time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat night de beastes was a-taking on so dat I had to hold my pulse. +Fust (first), real tight like dis; den I presses harder and harder till +I jes' natchelly squeeze all de blood out of my wristes. Dat is one of +de best signs I knows fer making dem owls and cows git quiet. Yes sir, +you has to hold your pulse fer five whole minutes, tight. When you does +dis, de owl's voice, he git lower and lower as your pulse git weaker and +weaker. Look, honey chile, all dese other niggers, dey had been a-tying +up a sheet or a-putting de shovel in de fire, and a-turning over de +nasty old shoes; but de owls, dey kept right on a-screeching. But dis +old darky, she de one what know'd how to weaken 'em down by holding her +pulse. Now, I doesn't tell dese young niggers 'round here; neither does +I tell many white folks 'bout de wisdom I is learn't 'bout such things.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Will Abrams, he been ailing fer I [TR: disremembers] how many weeks. He +couldn't eat nothing but beans. I had beans in my bottom corn. +Catherine, she axed me fer some and I give 'em to her. Will, he eat 'em, +fer dat was his craving. His finger got wusser till it nearly driv him +crazy. Den he got down and took to de bed. Look like his time, it was +drawing nigh.</p> +<p class="pnext">"White folks, de Jedgement is a-coming. We's all got to face it. De +folks is wicked, both black and so is de white. How dey 'spects de good +Lawd to have mercy on de wicked and sinful souls de way dey does every +day is mo' dan aunt Ann can see, and I is already done lived my ninety +years. De Lawd, He still sees fit to bless me wid health; and de good +white folks, He 'lows dem to help me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"How could Dr. Dawkins or either Dr. Montgomery do Will any good when de +Lawd, He done sot de hour? Dr. Montgomery, he 'lowed to Catherine dat +Will had two chances to die and one to live. He also said dat he had +done his best. All de darkies and white folks, too, in Union, dey come +over here to see Will. Lots of 'em fetched 'em some things along to give +to Will. He was a good man 'cause he had done been born again, and he +followed 'de straight and narrow path'. Dat's de reason dey liked him, +'cause his deeds, dey up and spoke fer him. Well, so many folks was +a-gwine in dat room dat Dr. Montgomery, he say Catherine have to keep +dem out. Will, he kept a-gitting weaker and weaker. De ailing in his +finger had done spread all over his chest. Dr. Montgomery and Dr. +Dawkins, dey held a consulation. When dey come out dey told Catherine +and dem others dat Will had done took and got pneumonia from dat finger. +So dat night, even de dogs, dey took to howling and gwine on. 'Tain't no +use to set dar and laugh when de owls screeched and de cows lowed and de +dogs howled. It sho am de death sign.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Hard work, trouble, and a-fooling wid dem dead folks, dem de things +what make Will go away so easy. He was always a-running 'round a-gitting +sorry niggers out of scrapes, and a-making 'greements wid de white folks +fer 'em; and dey never thanked him half de time. Us old folks, us told +him to stop fooling wid dem dead niggers and all such as de like, 'cause +he gwine to kill his-self. I is most blind, but de darkies, dey told me +how Will fooled 'round a-doing things fer so many sorry folks.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But den, God plucks his flowers. De night of de eighth day dem doctors +had done 'lowed dat Will had pneumonia. Will look up at his wife and +say, 'Git dese folks out of here so I can die by myself'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It was 'leven o'clock in de morning when dey come and told me. Susie +Eubanks, she 'lowed dat de screeching of de owls wake her up dat morning +'bout 3 o'clock. I 'lowed dat a dog a-howling was what riz me up. +Catherine 'lowed dat she hadn't laid down no time till she heard Gus's +cow a-lowing. All de signs took and failed den, as dey will do on such +occasions."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="george-patterson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id70">George Patterson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">I</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with George Patterson</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">653 Peachtree St., Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">While seeking an interview with an ex-slave today, the writer was +directed to a certain house where an old man lived. Entering the +premises by the rear, he observed an old man helping a woman who was +washing some clothes. He was stepping around quite lively, carrying +water and emptying one pot after another of the dirty water already used +by the woman. After he had sufficient water for his wife's needs, he +asked the writer to go with him to the front porch where he could be +quiet and talk.</p> +<p class="pnext">He stated that he was large enough during the Civil War to wait on the +soldiers when they would come to his master's home for something to eat, +which was at Kilgore's Bridge on Enoree River, said that his job during +the slavery days was to wait on the white folks and watch the +plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">He also stated that his father was a full-blooded Indian who was sold to +his master by Joe Crews, the biggest slave trader in the country. His +father was stolen somewhere in Mississippi, along with other Indians, +and sold into slavery with the "niggers." He said his father told him he +was stolen by Joe Crews when he was a young buck. At that time, his +father went by the name of "Pink Crews," but after he was purchased by +Mr. Joe Patterson, his name became "Pink Patterson." He stated that his +mother was a white woman who came from Ireland and was working on the +Patterson farm. She was not a slave, but was married to his father by +his "Marster."</p> +<p class="pnext">They lived in a one-story, one-room log cabin which had a dirt floor. +The whole family of 18 children and parents lived in this small house. +They were comfortable, however, and all had good health. He stated that +he had not been sick for fifty years, and that the only trouble with him +now was a broken foot, the result of a railroad wreck about forty years +ago. He said his foot still gave him trouble in bad weather.</p> +<p class="pnext">He said that he had not been conjured at all, but had just gotten his +foot broken. "Conjuring and ghosts are all foolishness anyhow." The +nearest he ever come to seeing a ghost was one night when he observed a +"white thing moving back and forth across the branch." He had with him +his brother's cap and ball pistol, and he shot at the object two or +three times, knowing that his dogs would come to him if they heard the +shots. Two or three dogs came up and recognized him. He told one bull +dog to go to the white thing and see what it was. After the dog had been +all around the place where the thing was moving, he knew there was +nothing there to frighten him. Next morning, he went out to see the +object and found it to be a small tree with white leaves waving in the +breeze.</p> +<p class="pnext">Going back to slavery times, he said that on most plantations were kept +squirrel dogs, 'possum dogs, snake dogs, rabbit dogs and "nigger" dogs. +Each dog was trained for a certain kind of tracking. He used to train +the "nigger" dogs which were used to track slaves who had run away from +the plantation. He said he had two dogs that were sure never to lose the +scent when they had taken it up. "If I put them on your track here and +you went to Greenville, they would track you right to Greenville."</p> +<p class="pnext">He said his master did not allow his slaves to be whipped but he had +seen slaves on other plantations wearing chains to keep them from +running away.</p> +<p class="pnext">"People don't work like they used to, and this thing of higher education +is ruining niggers. All their learning teaches them is how to beat a man +out of a dollar and how to get out of work. It teaches them to cus, and +it teaches these young girls how to make easy money. As old as I am, +I've been approached by girls I didn't know and asked for a dollar. Now +that thing won't do. I believe in teaching children how to read and +write; but don't go any further than that. I've never seen a moving +picture. Once a man offered to give me a ticket to a movie, but I told +him to give me a plug of tobacco instead." When asked if he thought +colored preachers should be educated, he replied that when they are +educated they learn how to steal everything a man has, if they can.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You remember reading about Joe Crews and Jim Young—what they did in +this state? Well, they tried to lead all the niggers after the war was +over. I was the one who got Jim Young away from the whites. I carried +him to Greenville, but he got back somehow, and was killed. Joe Crews +was killed, too. The Ku Klux was after them hot, but I carried Jim Young +away from them. You know, the Yankees was after getting all the gold and +money in the South. After the war, some Yankee soldiers would come along +and sell anybody, niggers or whites, a gun. They were trying to get on +to where the white people kept their money. If they caught on, they +would go there and steal it. You know, there wasn't any banks, so people +had to keep their money and gold in somebody's safe on some big man's +place. These men in selling guns was trying to find out where the money +was hid."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked about hunting, he said that hunting in slavery days was not +like it is now, for a man could hunt on his own place then and get +plenty of game. There were plenty of wild hogs in those days, as well as +wild turkeys, rabbits and squirrels. Some of the hogs were so wild that +no one dared to go into a pack of them, for they had tusks six inches +long, and could tear a man to pieces. A man could shoot a wild hog and +have no trouble over it. Cattle, he said, ran wild and were dangerous at +all times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When you buy something now, you haven't got much. I bought a cake of +soap for my wife but it was a small thing. When we used to make our own +soap on the plantation, we had plenty of good soap."</p> +<p class="pnext">He said his father followed his master and others to the war, and he +drove artillery wagons at times. At Appomattox, his father told him that +he drove wagons over dead soldiers piled in ditches. His father lived to +be 111 years old. After he and his father were set free, they remained +with Mr. Joe Patterson to help him make that year's crops; then they +moved to another place.</p> +<p class="pnext">He heard that work was plentiful in Spartanburg, and he moved here and +did various kinds of work. He said that he was not as strong as he used +to be, but that he could still do a full day's work except when his foot +troubled him.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle George was quite polite and seemed glad to talk of old times. He +observed, though, that in old times people would speak to him. "You go +up to a crowd now, and they won't speak. They won't notice you."</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">II</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with George Patterson</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">653 Peachtree St., Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">George Patterson, ex-slave, says that during the Civil War and +afterwards, when the owners of plantations in the Enoree River section +had a surplus of peaches and apples, they made apple and peach brandy; +and after they had filled kegs with it, rolled the kegs into a pond to +keep them from leaking until they were either sold or taken out for +personal use. Corn and rye whiskey were also stored in the water to keep +the kegs from leaking. In those days, he stated, good whiskey sold for +40 cents a gallon. Butter sold for five cents a pound; eggs six cents a +dozen, and hens that now cost 75 cents a piece, sold for ten cents. But +stated George, salt was very dear and hard to get; a barrel costing as +much as $50.</p> +<p class="pnext">George also stated there were plenty of wild turkeys, ducks and wild +geese on the Enoree River. The turkeys would ravage a garden or scratch +up the planted seed on the plantation. He has often been sent out to +frighten the wild turkeys away from the crops. He said plenty of meat +could be secured by shooting the wild hogs that roamed the woods, that +anybody was at liberty to kill a hog. Of course, some once tame hogs +mingled with the droves of wild hogs but the tame hogs had the owner's +name on them; so one had to be very careful that he did not shoot a +marked hog. He said that when his father, an Indian, was stolen by Joe +Crews, from the woods of Mississippi, he marched them with niggers he +had also stolen, or traded for, into different sections of the country, +selling them as slaves and speculating on them. He drove them just like +cattle and would stop at various plantations and sell the Indians and +niggers into slavery.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="sallie-paul"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id71">Sallie Paul</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">I</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sallie Paul, 79 years</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Marion, S.C., Fairlee Street</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Annie Ruth Davis</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I remember we colored people belong to de white folks in slavery time. +Remember when de war was gwine on 'cause we hear de guns shoot en we +chillun jump up en holler. Yes, mam, I remember dat. Remember de 30th of +dis October, I was 79 years old.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, mam, I ain' got no kin people. You see I been born in North +Carolina. Government lady get Lindy Henderson to stay here en look out +for me 'cause it be like dis, I can' see out my eyes one speck. Can' tell +de night from de day. Don' discover daylight no time, child. We rents +dis here house from Miss (Mrs.) Wheeler en Lindy treats me mighty good."</p> +<p class="pnext">(Lindy: "Well, we gets along nicely. I done feed her up en she get back +in bed, it be so cold en ain' got no coal to heat her. Yes, mam, has to +wait on de Salvation of de Lord. Government gives us a little small +salary, but we has to live mighty small, mighty small. Honey, it takes a +right sharp to live on dese days. If dey wasn' helpin me, I just don' +know, be as I ain' much dese days. Got dis high blood so worser en den I +has such a achin in my joints en throat dat does worry me right smart +too.")</p> +<p class="pnext">"My white folks, dey was de Williamsons dere in North Carolina. Yes, +mam, dey was good to dey colored people. We lived right in dey yard or +dat what you may say in de yard. All de colored people lived dere side +de yard whe' dey be close enough to holler if anything get de matter. +You see, I wasn' big enough to do no work much den only as we chillun +tote up wood for de white folks en piddle 'bout de yard. I know I won' +big enough to do nothin but jump up en keep fuss gwine all round de yard +dere. I remembers dey used to get a handful of switches en stand us +chillun up in a long row en give us all a lick 'bout de legs. You see, +dey didn' work de chillun when dey was little bit of things en stunt dem +up. Chillun grow to be 'bout 12 or 13 years old fore dey work dem in dat +day en time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My white folks was well off peoples, honey. My Massa, he run three +plantations en he had a heap of colored peoples dere. You see, people +didn' run over de ground in dat day en time like dey do now. De men lift +up every piece de dirt in de ground en get all de roots out it. My +mother, she was one of de plow hands dere en when time come to lay off +de ground, she force to work out. Dat de reason we chillun be up in de +yard twixt meals. Den when breakfast en supper come, we eat to we house. +Live close enough to de white folks house dat de nigger chillun could go +to de house en get dey hominy en clabber 'tween meals. Oh, dey have dese +here long wooden trays set up somewhe' under de tree dere in de yard dat +dey would full up wid hominy en clabber for we chillun. Give some spoon +en dem others never had none. Dat it, all eat out de same tray right +side together. Yes, mam, when I was raise up, have plenty to eat en +chillun never fail to get it."</p> +<p class="pnext">(Lindy: "Oh, child, we was bred en born in a fat kitchen in dat day en +time. We was well taken care of. People say I don' look like it 'cause I +here gwine 'bout wid stick in my hand. Sho was raise up in a fat +kitchen. Yes, mam, I was raise to do all de cookin en de nursin for de +white folks. Ain' never see no kitchen yet dat dey could lost me in +'cause I was trained myself. Never had no chance to go to school no time. +You see, if it wasn' cookin, it was chillun. 'Bout time new baby come, +dat first baby be knee child en so on like dat. Well, let me hush now, +honey, en let Sallie tell you dat what in her mind. She de one what you +come to get speech from.")</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, mam, de people ate like dey eats now, but dey didn' never know +what a stove was in dem days. Some of de kitchen fireplace, you could +put a whole railin in it to hang de pots on. Den dey had dem big old +clay chimneys wid dirt ovens dat would hold a bushel of tatoes to a +time. Just was a brick chimney now en den in slavery time. Bake all de +cakes en de bread right dere on de fireplace. Child, dere sho been more +to eat in slavery time den dere be now en I know dat all right. Dere +been more sheep en hogs en cows en goats. No, mam, I don' think I like +goat. I don' think so. I recollects I tried to eat some goat one time en +it swell in my mouth. Know I wouldn' eat sheep neither. It a sin. Seem +like dey so humble.</p> +<p class="pnext">"White folks didn' give de niggers no money no time, but dey had money +in slavery time much so as dey does now. You see, all de white folks +wasn' equal. Some was poor en de colored people sell dem things dey +white folks never want. Oh, dey take anything you carry dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don' know nothin 'bout de Yankees only I see dem come through dere de +day we was freed, but won' no great heap of dem come. Coase dey was +passin through dat country all durin de war en come to de colored +people's house en get somethin to eat. Yes, mam, colored people feed dem +en give dem somethin to travel on. It just like dis, de Yankees would +give de colored people dey good clothes en take dey rags. You see, dey +was desertin. Was runnin away en gettin back home. I don' know whe' if +de white folks know 'bout dey dere or not, but I know one thing, Massa +didn' see dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yankees didn' do no harm nowhe' in dat country to nobody, white nor +colored. Never hear tell of dat, but white people was scared of de +Yankees as dey was of a rattlesnake. Yankees tell de colored people dey +was free as dey was, but just didn' know it. I know dey said dat 'cause I +was standin up listenin to dem just like any other child be standin dere +lookin up in your mouth. Den when de colored people was freed, heap of +de white folks died 'cause dey grieve demselves to death over de loss of +dey property. Sho know dat 'cause I see dem en hear tell 'bout it plenty +times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dere been plenty white folks dat wouldn' never fight against de Yankees +widout dey couldn' get out of it. Dey slip off en hide in pits dey dig +in de woods en in de bays. Some of dem say dey didn' have no slaves en +dey won' gwine fight. Dat de way it be, if dey didn' fight, dey had to +run away en stay in de woods. Dat point me to think 'bout how young +Massa would slip off wid de colored boys on a Sunday to play like white +people will do en would learn dem to read. Carry old Webster's Blue Back +wid dem en when dey been way off yonder, young Massa would learn dem to +read. My father could read, but he couldn' never write.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, mam, white folks get handful of switches en whip de nigger chillun +round de legs, but wouldn' never whip none of de grown 'omans 'cause dey +was breedin. Didn' kill niggers whe' I was born."</p> +<p class="pnext">(Lindy; "My Lord, child, reckon dey would 'bout beat me to death if I +been livin den 'cause I done had two husbands en ain' never bear no child +yet. Doctor tell me if I want a child, I would have to go to de hospital +en be operated on en I wouldn' never get my mind fixed to do dat. Honey, +I lies down in dat bed dere at night en thanks my God dat I ain' never +had dat operation. I know I been bless 'cause dis de time of Revelations +de people livin in. Don' want no child my God gwine hold me responsible +for at de Jedgment. Sho bless 'cause like I see de world gwine, people +ain' got no time to be gettin ready to meet dey God. Tell my God dat I +thank he a thousand times again dat I been make like I is. It a blessin, +honey, a blessin.")</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, mam, de white folks make dey own cloth right dere on de plantation +in dem days. Dey had a loom house, but my mother had a loom right to her +own door. Sometimes, she would weave piece for de white folks en den +she weave for herself. White folks find all de colored people's clothes +en see to have all dey weavin done in dat day en time. Dey had certain +one of de colored people to do all de common weavin, but dey couldn' do +dem three en four treadle till dey Missus learn dem how. My old Missus +could weave any kind of cloth or blankets or anything like dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, de white folks be right dere to look after dey colored people if +dey get sick. Coase dey gwine take care of dey niggers. Gwine save dem +just as long as dey got breath in dey body. Won' no niggers gwine suffer +if dey need doctor neither. Heap of dem was cared for more better in +slavery time den dey is now 'cause dey had somebody dat had to care for +dem or lose dem one. Ain' no white folks want to lose dey niggers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, God! no, God! I hear talk 'bout it, but I don' know whe' dey can do +it or not. If dey can conjure, dey keep it to demselves. Dey never tell +me. I hear tell of dem things call ghosts, but I ain' never see none of +dem en ain' never see no hant neither. I has see a spirit though. +Peoples dat been dead, dey appears fore you en vanishes. Seen dem all +right. Dem things call ghosts en things, I don' wanna see none 'cause I +don' know 'bout dem. Hear talk of dem, but ain' seen nothin like dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, it like I tellin you, everybody didn' hate dey white folks. Dat +how-come some niggers stayed right on dere wid dey white people after +freedom en farmed for half what dey made on de crop. You see, dey didn' +have nothin to work wid so dey stayed on dere en farmed on shares.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I couldn' exactly tell you which de better times dese days or in +slavery time. I know heap of de colored people fared better when dey +belonged to de white folks 'cause dey had good owners. Didn' have to +worry 'bout huntin dey clothes en somethin to eat in dat day en time. +Just had to work. Now dey have to hunt it en get it together de best way +dey can. Oh, honey, peoples has so much worraytions dese days. Dat +how-come dey ain' live a long time like dey used to."</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">II</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sallie Paul, age 79</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Marion, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Annie Ruth Davis</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"No, mam, I ain' able to see none tall no time. Dis here one of my eye +is weaken from dat other one. Cose I can tell de day from night, but say +see somethin, I couldn' never do dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, I don' know nothin more to speak 'bout den dat I been tell you +dem other times you come here. It just like I tell you, we nigger +chillun would look to de white folks yard in de day, but we stayed to us +house in de quarter on a night. Oh, we lived close enough to de white +folks yard to know dere was cookin gwine on in de Missus kitchen. No, +child, we never eat us meals to de white folks house. You see, all de +niggers on de plantation would draw rations den just like heap of dese +people 'bout here draw rations dese days. I mean dey would draw so much +of ration from dey Massa to last dem a week at a time just like de +people draw government ration right 'bout here now. Dere was sho a +plenty to eat in dat day en time, too, 'cause I know whe' I come up, I +was raise on a plenty. Dere was abundance of meat en bread en milk all +de time. Yes, mam, cows won' lackin no time whe' I was raise. I remember +dey would give us chillun all de milk en hominy us could eat twixt +meals. Always fed de nigger chillun to de white folks yard twixt meals. +You see, dey was mighty particular 'bout how dey would raise en feed de +little niggers in dem days. Been more particular den you would be +particular wid a ten dollar bill dis day en time. Would keep dey little +belly stuff wid plenty hominy en milk same as dey was pigs. Dey do dat +to make dem hurry en grow 'cause dey would want to hurry en increase dey +property. De white folks never didn' despise to see a big crop of nigger +chillun comin on. Hear tell dat some of de white folks would be mean to +dey colored people, but never did see nothin of dat kind 'bout my white +folks' plantation. Cose de colored people would be let loose to get +together on a night en when Sunday come. Dat all de time dey ever had to +visit 'cause dey been force to work from sunup on de hill till sundown +over de swamp.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, de colored people had plenty song in slavery time, but I ain' +studyin nothin 'bout dat now. My 'membrance short dese days, child. Yes, +mam, de colored people had so many song in slavery time, I can' remember +de first word. Dey would sing anything dey could make a noise wid. Some +of dem could read out de hymn book en some of dem couldn' tell one word +from de other. Yes, mam, some of de young Massa would steal off to de +woods wid dey colored mate on a Sunday evenin' en learn dem to read. No, +Lord, dere won' no schools nowhe' for de colored people in dem days. +White folks catch nigger wid a book, nigger sho know he gwine get a +whippin soon as dat tale let loose. Now en den dey young Massa would +learn dem, but dey wouldn' never let dey fore-mammy know 'bout it. Cose +dey couldn' never write, but some of dem could read. Massa en Missus +never know 'bout it though.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now, it de Lord truth, honey, I ain' want to mislead you noway. Wouldn' +do dat for nothin. Don' lay no mind to heap of dis talk I hear some +people speak 'bout. I gwine talk 'bout what I been touch wid. Some of de +colored people fared good en some of dem fared bad in slavery time. Some +of dem had good owners en some of dem had bad ones. Thank de Lord, I +didn' get much of it 'cause I won' but nine years old when freedom come. +(Whe' de lady? Gone?). (The old woman is totally blind and remains in +bed all the time). Some of de white folks had dese here overseers en dey +was rough owners. Thank God, I was little en dey never didn' whip me +exceptin little bit 'bout de legs dere in old Massa yard. Remember dey +cut we chillun round de legs wid a switch sometimes when dey would want +to punish us en learn us better sense. Honey, us had a good old Massa. +Won' no cuttin en slashin gwine on round us like dere was on dem other +plantations round dere. My blessed a mercy, lady, some of dem grown +niggers mighty as well been dead in dat day en time, de overseers been +so mean. De little chillun wouldn' never be force to work like dey is +now. Dey would just be playin 'bout dere in old Massa yard en totin wood +for dey Missus. Wouldn' have to work in slavery time 'cause dey had +somebody to feed dem. Dat de difference, dey have to work for what dey +get dis day en time en ain' be satisfied wid it neither.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, I don' know nothin 'bout dem cornshuckin dey used to have only as +dey would gather de crop in dem days en haul it up to de white folks big +old farm barn. Den dey would ax all de white folks 'bout dere to send +dey hands dere to shuck corn one night. En pray, dey would have such a +whoopin en a hollerin en de like of a big supper dere dat night. My +blessed Lord, dat was a big time for we chillun. One man would have corn +shuck to his barn one night en dey would all help shuck corn to another +man barn de next night. You see, people was more mindful to bless one +another in dat day den dey be dese days. Yes, mam, neighbor been please +to turn good hand to neighbor den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, dere ain' been no end to fine victuals in dat day en time. You know +dere was a plenty to eat in slavery time 'cause de people made somethin +to eat den, but ain' nothin now hardly. Child, dis a tight time we gwine +through dese days. I remember dey used to have plenty 'tatoes en bread +en fresh meat every day en have heap of sheep en cows en goats all 'bout +de woods den, but dere ain' nothin growin in de woods dese days. Now, if +a man got a hog, he got it by de tail in de pen. No, mam, de most of de +people ain' got nothin now en dey ain' got nothin to buy somethin wid +neither.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don' know, child. I settin here in dis bed day in en day out wid dese +old bare eye en I don' know how de people gwine. I don' study nothin +'bout dem. I know I don' care how or which a way dey gwine 'cause I +studyin 'bout most all my days behind me now. Plenty people ain' livin +good as dey used to live long time ago. Seems like de times is tighter +en worser den what dey used to be. Reckon de reason be dere was more +made to eat den. Pa always tell we chillun dat it a sign de times gettin +better when dere more made to eat, child."</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">III</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sallie Paul, age 79</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Marion, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Annie Ruth Davis</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I ain' tryin to remember nothin 'bout my mammy when she was a girl. I +know I hear dem speak 'bout old Massa bought her en my grandmammy from +off de block en raised dem to a good livin. Hear talk dat some of de +colored people 'bout dere would catch old Harry in slavery time, but +dere won' nothin snatchin noways 'bout my white folks. I mean some of de +colored people would catch de devil in dat day en time 'cause dey come up +under a rough boss. Just had half enough to eat en had to stir 'bout +half naked most all de time. Not been took care of as dey should have +been.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Cose when we was chillun, de grown people would be force to punish us +some of de time. Yes, mam, I do know what would happen to me, if I been +get in devilment. I would get a whippin right den en dere. Nobody +wouldn' never whip me, but old Massa en my mammy 'cause people won' no +more allowed to whip anybody child den dey is dese days. My child done +anything wrong den, you had to come to me 'bout it. I recollects, dey +would whip us chillun wid tree switches round us legs. Den if dey would +want to spare de punishment, dey would try to scare us out de mischief. +Tell us Bloody Bones would jump out dat corner at us, if we never do +what dey say do.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, I here to tell you, dey had de finest kind of enjoyments in dem +days. It was sho a time, to speak 'bout, when dey had one of dem +quiltings on de plantation. Didn' do nothin but quilt quilts en dance en +play some sort of somethin after dey would get done. Colored people +would have quiltings to one of dey own house, up in de quarter, heap of +de nights en dey would frolic en play en dance dere till late up in de +night. Would enjoy demselves better den de peoples do dese days 'cause +when dey would get together den, dey would be glad to get together. Oh, +my Lord, dey would dance en carry on all kind of fuss. Yes, mam, blow +quills en knock bones together dat would make good a music as anybody +would want to dance by. Child, dey had plenty scraps to make dey bed +clothes wid, 'cause dey Missus would save scraps for dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, mam, de white folks would furnish de colored people wid clothes +for true in dat day en time. Dey couldn' let dem go naked. How dey gwine +work wid bare back? Cose dey fine clothes, dey managed to get dat +demselves. You see, white folks wouldn' give dem no Sunday frock, but +one. I tell you, de cloth was better wearin' den. Dis here cloth dese +days, wear it two or three times, de wind could 'bout blow through it. +Oh, dey had de finest kind of silk in slavery time. Don' hear no silk +rattlin' 'bout here dese days, but would hear silk rattle in slavery +time just as same as would hear paper rattlin'. Colored people wore just +as much silk in dem days as dey do now 'cause when dey had a silk dress +den, it been a silk dress. Won' no half cotton en half silk. Goods was +sho better den, child, I say. Like I tell you, when a man had a +broadcloth suit den, it won' no half jeanes. All de colored people, dat +been stay on my white folks plantation, had dey own little crop of corn +en fodder 'bout dey house en when a peddler come along, dey would sell +dey crop en buy silk from de peddler. Dey been sell dey crop to anybody +dey could. Dere was always a poor one somewhe' dat been need corn en +fodder.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, mam, colored people didn' have no church of dey own in slavery time +'cause dey went to de white folks church. All I can tell you, we went to +buckra's church en dey set in one part de church en us set in de +gallery. Yes, mam, de white folks would see to it dat all dey niggers +never chance to miss church service no time. En de slave owners would +bury dey plantation niggers right dere to de colored people graveyard +behind de church, dat was settin right side de white people graveyard.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I won' married till long time after freedom come here en when I get +married, de colored people had dese here bresh (brush) shelters for dey +church en dey had dey own colored preacher, too. Honey, I marry a Paul, +a slavery one, but I didn' have no big weddin. Didn' want none. Just +married dere to my father's house en I had a white dress dat was made +out of cotton, all I can tell. Know it won' no silk. I don' know nothin +more den dat to tell you. Dat de mighty truth, all I know, I had me a +husband en dat won' no great blessin, to speak 'bout.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Don' ax me, child. Ax somebody dat know somethin 'bout dem things +people say is a charm. I say, dey is ignorant people what believe in +dem. I know I ain' never wear nothin round my foot 'cause I ain' got no +dime to spend, much less to be puttin it round my foot. I calls dat +nothin but a foolish person dat would do dat, ain' you say so? I see a +woman once wear a twenty-five cents piece tie round her ankle en I ax +her what she do dat for. She tell me she had de rheumatism en she hear +dat would cure it. I tell her I ain' had no mind to have no faith in all +dat what I hear people speak 'bout. Dat won' nothin but a devil been +talkin to dat woman, I say.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My God a mercy, I tell you, slavery time was somethin. Dat been a day. +Colored people didn' have no privileges den only as dey Massa would let +dem loose on a Saturday evenin' en on a Sunday. But, child, dey was just +as proud of dat as people is proud of a month dese days. Didn' have no +more privileges in slavery time den dese people got now in dis here +chain gang. No, mam, niggers belong to dey owner in slavery just like +you got a puppy belong to you. Make dem go so far en den stop.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What I think 'bout Abraham Lincoln? I ain' took time to have no +thoughts 'bout him. Hear so much talk 'bout him till I don' know what he +done. Hear talk dat he been de one dat free de slaves, but whe' de +power? De power been behind de throne, I say. God set de slaves free. De +Lord do it. Abraham Lincoln couldn' do no more den what God give de +power to do. It just like dis, I believes it was intended from God for +de slaves to be free en Abraham Lincoln was just de one what present de +speech. It was revealed to him en God was de one dat stepped in en fight +de battle."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="lina-anne-pendergrass"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id72">Lina Anne Pendergrass</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Lina Anne Pendergrass</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Union, S.C., Rt. 1</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I'se born 10 years befo' Freedom on a Christmas day. Marse Tom Sanders, +whose place I'se born on, lived in Chester County. One of my first +'memberances is a dream. I though' I saw my little sister, Sars, laying +on a cooling board. I was five years old at dat time. I woke my mother +up and tole her 'bout it, but it was jus' a dream an' wasn't nothin' to +it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never had no schooling and the Ku Klux sho scairt me. They took my +daddy; my brother was too young. It was on Sat'day night. Next day was +Sunday, and dey didn't fix de doors what de Ku Klux broke down. Us +nebber did see pa no mo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As it was in de day of Noah, so shall it be in de coming of de days of +Jesus Christ. Peoples fitting and a-killin' and a-scrappin' all de time +now, kaize dey don't take no time to go to prayer meeting. My +grandfather had a prayer-meeting house. All de niggers on de plantation +went to it ever Sat'day night. Dey sot on benches, and den dey would git +down on dere knees and pray. I was a little gal, and me and de other +gals would fetch water for dem to drink. Us toted pine when it was cole, +and us'd take coals 'round fer de ole folks to light dere pipes wid. +Atter while, dey git to singin' and shoutin'. Den de Spirit done come +down and tuck hole of dem. Dat would be when everybody would get happy. +De ole rafters creak and shake as de Spirit of de Lord sink deeper and +deeper in de hearts of the prayin' folks. Tate Sanders, de preacher +from Lowryville, would come in 'bout dat time and raise his hands 'bove +de congregation and plead wid de Lawd to open de hearts of de wicked so +dat de Holy Spirit could come in. Wasn't no killin' and scratchin' going +on in dem days. De ole folks tell us chillun dat if we do wrong, de Lawd +gwine come down in His wrath and punish us on dis earth. Sides dat, He +gwine send us to torment whar we's live in 'ternal hell fire. De worl' +is so wicked now dat I'se looking fer de locust to come and stay five +months and sting everybody in de fo'head dat ain't got religion. Den +people will be so 'shame of deself fer dere wickedness dat dey will seek +death, and dey won't be able to get no death.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Lawd, He is a-pressin' me on up. Yes, Lawd, Revelation is wonderful. +De comin' out of smoke, dem's de devil's angels. When you reads de Word +of de Lawd, take an interes' in it. De people dat I knows is so wicked +dat my heart keeps anguished.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I learnt myself how to read. My pa brought a Bible from de war. I has +dat and I reads it. My pa got shot comin' from Mississippi. Marse +Sanders hear about it and he sont and brung him home. Den us lived 15 +miles from Chester on Broad River. My pappy was named Henry Dorsey. When +he was young, he was Marse Sander's butler boy. He got well from de +shot. Den de Ku Klux got him for something. I ain't never knowed what. I +don't know what dey done when I was a baby.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'se nussed since I was a little gal. My ma made me make teas to cure +folks' colds and ailments. She made me fetch her water and towels and +other things while she wait on de sick folks. Dat's de way I was broke +into nussing. Nineteen-eighteen laid out folks at Monarch. I started +right after breakfas' wid two dollars. Git home at night with narry a +penny. Git folks soup and milk. Everybody dat didn't get sick worked +hard. De folks died anyway like flies. De Lawd give me strength to stand +up through de whole time. When de flu pass on and de folks get well, den +dey pay me for my services.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Millie Nash, Andy's wife, she look atter me since I'se got ole. She +gooder to me dan anybody I know, but at de same time, she's aggravation +to me kaise she drink likker. Millie sho does git drunk, but I keeps on +prayin' fer her. Dis mawnin she's gwine to a funeral. She was poling +'long 'hind me and drapped her pocketbook. When us git ready to go into +de church, she stopped and grabbed hol' of me and say, 'Lina, whar my +pocketbook?' I looks at her and say, 'Nigger, how does I know whar'bouts +you throw dat thing down? You stayed 'hind me all de way from de ice +house. Didn't I tell you to let dat dram alone befo' you left de house?' +I sot down in front of de church and Millie turned around and went down +de street toward de ice house. She seed her pocketbook where she drapped +it, 'bout half way twixt de ice house and de church. When she come 'long +whar I was sitting, I 'lowed to her dat I'se gwine up to de relief +office. I lef' her and here I is. Won't be long befo' Millie be here, +too. De funeral done marched on when Millie got back to de +church."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="amy-perry"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id73">Amy Perry</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Amy Perry (82)</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Jessie A. Butler, Charleston, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Amy (Chavis) Perry is eighty-two years old. She is strong for her age +and lives alone in an old building at the rear of 21 Pitt street where +she supports herself by taking in washing. She is a self-respecting old +negress, with a reputation for honesty among the "white folks" whom she +considers her friends.</p> +<p class="pnext">Amy has two names, "like de people in doze times"—Amy Rebecca. She +"adopted the Rebecca." Her father was John Minser Chavis, a slave in the +McClure family, who, she claims, lived to be 116 years old, and "who +wukked up to de las'," and Sarah (Thompson) Chavis, who belonged to Mrs. +William Keller, an ancestor of the Cogswell family of Charleston. Amy +says she was given to Miss Julia Cogswell as a "daily gift," Miss Julia +having been a child at the same time that she was. In reply to a few +leading questions Amy gave the following story.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We is live in de country, near Orangeburg, and I remembers berry little +'bout de war and de time befo' de war. You see I bin berry little, I bin +only seben year old. Some ole people mek out like dey remembers a lot ob +t'ings." Here she gave the writer a quizzical look. "You know +imagination is a great t'ing. Dey eider mek all dat up or dey tell you +what bin tell dem. I got to stick to de trut', I 'members berry little, +berry little. I don't 'member much 'bout what we did in de country befo' +de war, nor what we eat, nor no games and such. I don't know what de big +people wear. De cullered people mek dey own cloth, and call um cotton +osnaburg. Dey mek banyans for de chillen. Sleebe bin cut in de cloth, +and dey draw it up at de neck, and call um banyan. Dey is wear some kind +ob slip under um but dat all. Dey ain't know nutting 'bout drawers nor +nutting like dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De medicine I remember was castor oil, and dogwood and cherry bark, +which dey put in whiskey and gib you. Dey is gib you dis to keep your +blood good. Dogwood will bitter yo' blood, it good medicine, I know.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'member de people hab to git ticket for go out at night. W'en dey is +gone to prayer meeting I is see dem drag bresh back dem to outen dey +step. If de patrol ketch you wid out ticket dey beat you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members w'en de Yankee come tru, and Wheeler a'my come after um. +Doze bin dreadful times. De Yankees massicued de people, and burn dere +houses, and stole de meat and eberyting dey could find. De white folks +hab to live wherebber dey kin, and dey didn't hab enough to eat. I know +whole families live on one goose a week, cook in greens. Sometimes they +hab punkin and corn, red corn at dat. Times was haard, haard. De +cullered people dodn't hab nutting to eat neider. Dat why my auntie +bring me to Charleston to lib.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De fust year atter freedom I gone to school on Mr. John Townsend place, +down to Rockville. After peace declare de cullered people lib on +cornmeal mush and salt water in de week and mush and vinegar for Sunday. +Mine you, dat for Sunday. I don't see how we lib, yet we is. About eight +year after de war we use to go down to de dairy for clabber. Dey give +you so much for each one in de fambly, two tablespoon full for de grown +people and one tablespoon for de chilluns. We add water to dat and mek a +meal. In de country de cullered people lib on uh third (crop) but of +course at de end of de year dey didn't hab nutting, yet dey has libed. I +'member w'en de Ku Klux was out too, de people bin scared 'cause dey is +beat some and kill some."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked which she thought best, slavery or freedom, her answer was: +"Better stay free if you can stay straight. Slabery time was tough, it +like looking back into de dark, like looking into de night."</p> +<p class="pnext">Feeling that as she remembered so little of plantation life her opinion +was based on hearsay or her memories of war times, the writer told her +of the answer of another old Negro woman: "No matter what slabery bring, +if it hadn't been for slabery I nebber would hab met my Jesus." It +seemed to make a strong impression on Amy who threw up her hands in the +typical African gesture, and said "Praise de Lawd, w'en yo talk 'bout +Jesus you is got me coming and going."</p> +<p class="pnext">Amy is deeply religious. She owns four of Judge Rutherford's books which +she claims to have read "from cubber to cubber" many times. "Some people +b'lieve in dreams," she said, "but I don't hab no faith in dem. Lot ob +people b'lieve in root and sich but dey can't scare me wid root. I roll +ober dem from yuh to Jericho and dey wouldn't bodder me. A man died bad +right in dat house yonder, and I went wid de doctor and close his sight +and sich, and I come right home and gone to bed and sleep. He ain't +bodder me and I ain't see um since. I don't believe in ghosts, nor +dreams, nor conjuh, dat de worse. John de Baptist and dem dream dreams, +and de Lawd show dem vision, but dat diffrunt." With another comical +look at the writer, she continued; "You can eat yo' stomach full and +you'll dream. I b'lieve in some kind ob vision. You doze off, and you +hab a good dream. I b'lieve dat. People get converted in dreams. I was +twelve year ole when I get converted. I dreamed I was in a field, a +large green field. A girl was dere dat I didn't had no use for. I had a +bundle on my back. I honey de girl up and love um and de bundle fall on +de ground. Dey put me in de church den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some people say dey kin see ghost but you can't see ghost and lib. De +Bible say if you kin see de wind you kin see spirit. If you kin see +ghost you can see Gawd, and I know you can't see Gawd and lib. De Bible +say so. I don't b'lieve in um, no ghost, and no cunjuh tho' my uncle +Cotton Judson and my aunt Nassie both b'lieve in dem. Uncle Cotton could +do most as much as de debbul (devil) hesself, he could most fly, but I +nebber b'lieve in um no matter what he kin do."</p> +<p class="pnext">In order to get her to talk the writer told her of a few of the +accomplishments of the East Indians. She said, "Yes, Gawd got some +people mek berry wise. Dey can't say dey mek demself wise. What race +dese Indian come from, anyway, I know dem come from Indiana, but what +race, Ham, Seth, Japheth or what. I hear de Indian hab some wise ways, +and my people b'lieve in all kind ob ghost, and spirit an t'ing but I +don't. I don't eben let um talk to me 'bout dem, w'en det start I say +'gone gome wid dat.' I can't counteract de Bible and I can't counteract +Gawd, I don't b'lieve in um. Dat what I don't visit round. My people lub +(love) too much idle discourse, and idle discourse is 'gainst de Bible. +I nebber trapsy round w'en I young and I don't now. Day why I don't hab +no company. As long as ole people lib dey going to tell de young ones +'bout ghost an t'ing, and dey going to pass it on, and w'en dey die dey +going to leab dat foolishness right yuh. No I don't b'lieve in no conjuh +and no root. If dey gib me poison den dey got me."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="rob-perry"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id74">Rob Perry</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Uncle Rob Perry & Aunt Della Britton</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Trenton, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Aunt Della born in 1863. He in 1864. He drove cows fer Marse Squire Jim +Perry, who lived on the line of Edgefield and Newberry Counties. Mos de +time dey traded in Newberry County, 'cause it nearer town. All road wuz +bad in dem days, even in summer dey wuz allus rough.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle Rob toted water, picked up chips and carried rations fum kitchen +to dinin room. Often Messrs. Jim Long, Sam, Jake and Bob Smith, (3 +brothers) came to our big house fer dinner and to dance afterward.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Plenty water to tote and fires to build den. Go out an git pine and +cedar limbs to put over de picturs and 'roun de mantle boards' Fix up de +table wid trimmins, git mo candles and put all roun. Mak egg-nog in de +winter and mint juleps in de summer. Some time dar wuz sillabub, it +ain't so good tho. De young mens dat I mentioned befo have me ter pick +out pretty girls fer dem ter dance wid. I drap a curtsey an han' dem de +name. If dey want ter dance wid him they look at him and flick dey fan +an if dey didn't den dey never give him no mind.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat done all pass by as evry thing does. Now I thanks God and looks to +de Savior. Ef dar is success ter ye dat is what you has to do all de +time. Della and I done had fifteen chilluns. Us is so lonesome as we has +jes one a livin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. Campbell, a Yankee man married Miss Joanna Perry. Her paw wuz Mr. +Oliver Perry of Bouknight's Ferry on de Saluda River. In dat famly wuz +Miss Isabelle and Messrs. John, Milledge, Jake and Tom. Miss Joanna +marry on Friday in de parlor all fixed up wid cedar ropes a-hangin' fum +de ceilin an de mo-es candles what a body ever did see. She made us +buil' her a arch and kivver hit wid vines. It sot before de mantle and a +white bell hung fum de middle uv it. White cloth wuz stretched over +eveything and dey never let nobuddy walk in dat room cep in dey bare +feet fer fear dey dirty all dat cloth.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Miss Isabella sho picked de pianny fer Miss Joanna. A Young lady fum +anuther plantation sang two songs. All pur white ladies wore dey +pretties' white dresses wid flowers in dey hair. Miss Joanna had her +face all kivvered up wid er thin white cloth dat fell off'n her and laid +all back uv her on de floor. An de white ladies had dey white dresses a +layin over de floor but didn't none uv dem have dey faces kivvered cept +Miss Joanna, you see she wuz de bride.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My ole 'oman wuz rigged in white herself. Evvything in dat house wuz +fixed up extry fer da ceremony. I wo' one de men's black coats and black +pants and a white shirt wid a ves' an tie. I had on a fine pair black +shoes. Dey give all dat ter me en I kep it adder de weddin. Dat suit I +wore ter church fer de nex ten years.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nex day, Saturday, come de big 'infair'. A double table wuz set up in +de dinin room. Ham, turkey en chicken wuz put on dat table dat wussent +teched. Dey jes stay dere along wid de fixins. All de victuals wuz +placed on de plates in de kitchen and fetched to de table. Five darkies +wuz kep busy refreshin de weddin diners.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Miss Joanna an de Yankee man what she done married de day befo dat, her +sister, de lady what sing en her maw an paw an de parson set at de table +what they calls de bridal table. Dat table had de mo-es trimmins on hit +of bows an ribbens and de like ob dat. I still sees Miss Joanna a settin +dare. She wo' her weddin dress jes zactly lak she did de day befo. She +never had her face kivvered up wuz de onliest change I seed. De weddin +dinner musta lasted two hours'. Atter dat de carriage came roun en +evvybody lined up along de front door by de cape jessamines ter throw +rice an ole shoes at de bride when she come outside de big house ter git +in de carrage. Evvybody wuz mighty spry to be done danced all de night +befo til de sun had showed red in de Eas' dat Sadday mornin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter she gone off I jes' cud'n figger' out how Marse' had got so much +together fer dat weddin', kaise hit had'n been no time since de Yankee +so'ders had carried off ev'y thing and left us dat po'. But den sum +years has slipped by since dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I turn back to go in de big house, I see de pea-fowls a sneakin' +off to de river rale 'shame 'kase dey never had er sign uv a tail. All +dey tail feathers wuz plucked ter make de weddin fans en ter go in de +Mistus an de gals hats. Dat sho wuz er big drove en dey is de pretties' +fowl whut dere is, an folks doesn't give dem no mine dese days."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="victoria-perry"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id75">Victoria Perry</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Victoria Perry</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">167 Golding St., Spartanburg, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Victoria Perry, who lives in Spartanburg, says that she was just a small +child when slavery times were "in vogue," being eight years old when the +"negroes were set free in 1865." Her mother, she said, was Rosanna +Kelly, and had lived in Virginia before she was bought by Bert Mabin, +who owned a farm near Newberry. She says that she was often awakened at +night by her mother who would be crying and praying. When she would ask +her why she was crying, her mother would tell her that her back was sore +from the beating that her master had given her that day. She would often +be told by her mother: "Some day we are going to be free; the Good Lord +won't let this thing go on all the time." Victoria said she was as +scared of her master as she was of a mad dog. She said her master used +to tie her mother to a post, strip the clothes from her back, and whip +her until the blood came. She said that her mother's clothes would stick +to her back after she had been whipped because she "bleed" so much. She +said that she wanted to cry while her mother was being whipped, but that +she was afraid that she would get whipped if she cried.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Whenever my master got mad at any of the niggers on the place, he would +whip them all. He would tie them to a post or to a tree, strip off their +clothes to the waist, and whip them till he got tired. He was a mean +master, and I was scared of him. I got out of his sight when he came +along.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My father was a white man, one of the overseers on the farm. I don't +know anything about him or who he was. I never saw him that I knowed of. +But the way Bert Mabin beat my mother was cruel.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day a Yankee come by the house and told my master to get all the +colored people together; that a certain Yankee general would come by and +would tell them that they were free. So one day the niggers gathered +together at the house, and the Yankee general was there with some +soldiers. They formed a circle around the niggers and the general stood +in the middle and told us all we were free. My mother shouted, 'The Lord +be praised.' There was a general rejoicing among the niggers and then we +backed away and went home. My mother told me she knew the Lord would +answer her prayers to set her free.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I went hungry many days, even when I was a slave. Sometimes I would +have to pick up discarded corn on the cob, wipe the dirt off and eat it. +Sometimes during slavery, though, we had plenty to eat, but my master +would give us just anything to eat. He didn't care what we got to eat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After we were set free, I went with my mother to the Gist plantation +down in Union. My mother always wanted to go back to her home at +Bradford, Virginia, but she had no way to go back except to walk. Work +was mighty scarce after slavery was over, and we had to pick up just +what we could get. My mother got a job on the Gist plantation, and +somehow I got up here to Spartanburg.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married Tom Perry, and I have been here ever since, although he is +dead now. He was a brick-mason.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I sure was scared of my master, he treated us niggers just like we was +dogs. He had all our ages in a big Bible at the house, but I never went +there to see my age. My mother told me always to say I was eight years +old when I was set free. I am eighty now, according to that."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="john-petty"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id76">John Petty</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with John Petty (87)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Hill Street, Gaffney, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was born on the Jim Petty place in what was then Spartanburg County.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse raised all his darkies to ride young. I no more 'members when I +learned to ride than I 'members when I come into the world. Marse had +his stables built three logs high from the outside of the lot. When the +horse step down into the lot, then I jump on his back from the third +log. So little that I never could have got on no other way without help.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The horse what I rid had a broad fat back and he trot so fast that +sometimes I fall off, but I hang on to the mane and swing back on his +back and he never break his gait. Then again if I didn't swing right +back up he take and stop till I git landed on his back once more.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One horse called Butler, farm horse named Tom, mule called Jack, slave +horse called Stoneman, then one called Cheny, one Jane, one Thicketty +and the stud-horse named Max. I allus play with him, but my folks was +ig'nant to that fact. I lay down and he jump straight up over me. I git +corn and he eat it from my hand. There was apples and salt that he loved +[HW: to eat] from my palm. He throw his fore legs plumb over my head, +and never touch me at all. All this gwine on in Max's stable. It big +enough for a dozen or more horses, 'cause it hardly ever beed that Max +git out and his stable had to be big so as he could exercise in it. So I +slip in there and we play unbeknownst to the old folks, white or black. +The door slided open. When I git tired and ready to go out then I slide +the door open. Maxie knowed that I was gwine and he had the most sense. +He watch till I git the door slid open and if he could he run by me and +jump out. I never could git him back in and he race 'round that lot till +the hands come in from the field at dark. He have a good time and git +all sweaty.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When he jump over me out'n the sliding door, then I hide under the feed +house till Mammy holler, 'Lawdy, fore the living, yonder is Max +a-ripping hisself plumb to he death in that lot.' Then they send for +some the mens to git him back. Atter they done that then I crawl out, +climb the lot fence and run through the field home. When I sets down Maw +'lows, 'Does you know it's real curious thing how that old stud-horse +git his door open and come out'n that stable. It must be haints creeping +'bout right here in the broad open daylight!' At that I draw up real +near the fire and say, 'Maw, does you reckon that the haints is gwine to +come and open our door some time?'</p> +<p class="pnext">"On t'other hand, if I be real quick a-gitting out of the stable door +before Max turn and see me, when then he couldn't git out. None of them +never knowed 'bout the good times that me and Max used to did have. And +it 'pears real strange to me now that he never did hit me with his foots +nor nothing. That horse sure 'nough did love me and that's jest all what +it is to that. I also used to slip in the extra feed house and fetch him +oats and the like 'twixt and 'tween times. He stay that fat and slick. +But it wouldn't nary lil' darky would go near that stud-horse but me. +They's all skeered to death when he git in the lot and when they seed +him in there they would run and git in the house and slam the door plumb +shut.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I done come up nigh 18 or something like that, the big freedom +come 'round. Marse Jim say us could all go and see the world as we'uns +was free niggers. Us jump up and shout Glory and sing, but us never +sassed our white folks like it 'pears to be the knowledge up North. I'd +done been there and they thinks us turned our backs on our white folks, +but I never seed nothing but scalawag niggers and poor white trash +a-doing that, that I ain't. One nigger went from the plantation to the +north as they called it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When he had done stayed there fer five years then he come back and +hired out to Marse Jim. He looked real lanky, but I never paid that no +mind then. He was older than I was and he always 'lowing, 'John, up in +Winston all the niggers makes five dollar a day; how come you don't go +up there and git rich like I is'. Some of the older ones laugh when he +talk to me like that and he lean to my ear and say real low, 'They's +ig'nant.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day when the crops done laid by I told Marse Jim, as I allus call +him that, I 'lows, 'Marse, dis fall I gwine north to git rich, but I +sure is gwine to bring you folks something when I comes south again'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"So Marse give me my money and I set out for the north. I got to +Winston-Salem and got me a job. But it was that hard a-cleaning and +a-washing all the time. 'Cause I never knowed nothing 'bout no 'baccy +and there wasn't nothing that I could turn off real quick that would +bring me no big money. It got cold and I never had no big oak logs to +burn in my fireplace and I set and shivered till I lay down. Then it +wasn't no kivver like I had at Marse Jim's. Up there they never had +'nough wood to keep no fire all night.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Next thing I knowed I was down with the grip and it took all the money +dat I had and then I borrowed some to pay the doctor. So I up and come +back home. It took me a long time to reach Spartanburg and from there I +struck up with the first home niggers I seed since I left in the fall. +That make me more better than I feel since the first day what I 'rive at +Winston. Long afore I 'rive at home, I knowed that I done been a fool to +ever leave the plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I git home all the darkies that glad to offer me the 'glad hand'. +I ax where that nigger what 'ticed me off to the north and they all 'low +that he done took the consumption and died soon after I done gone from +home. I never had no consumption, but it took me long time to git over +the grippe. I goes to old Marse and hires myself out and I never left +him no more till the Lawd took him away.</p> +<p class="pnext">"God knows that the slaves fared better than these free niggers is. Us +had wool clothes in the winter and us had fire and plenty wood and +plenty to eat and good houses to keep out the rain and cold. In the +summer us had cool clabber milk and bread and meat and spring water and +now us don't have all them things and us can't keep up no houses like +our log houses was kept.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Why, Charlie Petty, Marse's son, wore home made clothes at home jest as +us did. He was dat proud that he 'come editor or something of a +Spartanburg paper."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="sarah-poindexter"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id77">Sarah Poindexter</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sarah Poindexter, 87 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">800 Lady Street (in the rear), Columbia, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Stiles M. Scruggs, Columbia, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"My name is Sarah Poindexter. I was born in 1850, on de plantation of +Jacob Poindexter, 'bout ten miles beyond Lexington court house. These +old eyes of mine has seen a mighty lot of things here'bouts durin' de +eighty-seven years I been 'round here.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De first time I see Columbia, it de powerfulest lot of big wood houses +and muddy streets I ever see in my life. De Poindexter wagon dat carry +my daddy and my mammy and me to de big town, pretty often mire in +mudholes all 'long de big road from de plantation to de court house. Dat +trip was made 'bout 1857, 'cause I was seven years old when I made dat +trip.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Since that first trip I has lived in sight of Columbia, 'most all my +life. My daddy, my mammy and me lived on de plantation of Master +Poindexter until 1863. We might a lived there longer, if things had not +been so upset. I sho' recall de excitement in de neighborhood when +roving crowds of niggers come 'long de big road, shoutin' and singin' +dat all niggers am free. Snow was on de ground, but de spirits of de +niggers was sho' plenty hot.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Poindexter plantation was one big place of excitement them days. De +slaves work some, all durin' de war, sometimes I now 'spects it was for +de sake of de missus. All of us loved her, 'cause she was so kind and +good to us. She was cryin' and worryin' all de time 'bout her manfolks, +who was away fightin' damn Yankees, she say. She sho' had plenty of +backbone or spunk, when stragglers show up, they always hungry and +always ready to take what they want to eat, until the missus come on de +scene with her trusty shotgun. It seem like de war last forever to me, +'stead of 'bout five years. To a child, Lordy, how long de years hang +on, and when we get past fifty, oh, how fast de time runs.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day mammy stay in bed, too sick to go to de big house to cook, and +befo' noon, who should come to our cabin but Missus Poindexter herself, +carryin' a basket. She set it down and say to mammy: 'Lawzy Sadie, I not +leave you here to starve; then she uncover de basket and set out a big +plate of chicken and dumplin', hot biscuits, coffee, and a lot of other +good things.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When she gone, mammy eat some and give me some, and mammy git up next +mornin' and say: 'Sis, my white folks' missus am so good and kind, I am +goin' to work for her today, best I can'. She went but she wasn't good +well yet. Missus Poindexter many times fetch me a piece of candy or +somethin' when she go to town and back.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, I never see Columbia burn in 1865, but we reckon that it was +burnin' that night in February, 1865, 'cause we smell it and de whole +east look lak some extra light is shinin' and pretty soon, some folks +come ridin' by and tell us the whole city in flames. De next time I see +it, I guess there wasn't fifty houses standin'. Chimneys standin' +'round, is about all there was where most of de city was standin' befo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My daddy was killed down 'bout Aiken, shortly after 1865. Me and mammy +come to Columbia and live in a cabin in de alley back of Senate Street, +where mammy take in washin' and cook for some white folks, who know her; +I helped her. She die in 1868, and I goes 'way with four other nigger +gals to Durham to work in a tobacco factory. Both white and nigger women +work there, but de nigger women do most of de hard work, strippin' de +leaves, stemmin' them, and placin' them to dry. White women finish them +for de trade.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In 1870 when I comes back to Columbia de city am acomin' back. Big +buildin's up along de streets, but most of them was made of wood. Soon +after that I gets work in a hotel, but Columbia at that time was not so +big and Durham was smaller still, although Durham had more brick houses. +I was happier on de Poindexter plantation and had fewer things to worry +'bout than when I was ascratchin' 'round for myself.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You ask has I been married? Yes, I marry a dandy lookin' young man, +'bout my own age, 'bout a year after I comes back to Columbia. His name, +so he say, is Sam Allen. He make fun of some other niggers who work at +one thing or another to live. One day he come to where I work and say he +bound to raise ten dollars. I hands him de cash, and he gives me a good +kiss right there befo' de folks, but I never see him again. I hear, +after he gone, that he win some more money at a gamblin' place on +Assembly street, and reckon he decided to blow 'way, while blowin' was +good.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De folks who know me always call me Sarah Poindexter and I got it +honestly, like other honest slaves who never know what their real name +was, and so I keeps it to the end of the road.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I am now livin' with a distant relative and firmly trustin' in Jesus, +as I have done for more than fifty years, that he will keep me to the +end of the trail here and greet me when I pass on 'way up +Yonder'."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="sam-polite"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id78">Sam Polite</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sam Polite, age 93</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mrs. Chlotilde R. Martin, Beaufort County</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"W'en gun shoot on Bay Pint (Bay Point) for freedom, I been sebenteen +year old wuking slabe. I born on B. Fripp Plantation on St. Helena +Island. My fadder been Sam Polite and my mudder been Mol Polite. My +fadder b'long to Mister Marion Fripp and my mudder b'long to Mister Old +B. Fripp. I don't know how mucher land, neider how much slabe he hab, +but he hab two big plantation, and many slabe—more'n a hundred slabe.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slabe lib on Street—two row ob house wid two room to de house. I hab +t'ree sister name, Silvy Polite, Rose Polite and Minda Polite. Hab +brudder, too, but he die.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My fadder and mudder ain't marry. Slabe don't marry—dey jest lib +togedder. All slabe hab for stay on plantation in day time but w'en wuk +done, kin wisit wife on odder plantation. Hab pass, so Patrol won't git +um.</p> +<p class="pnext">"W'en I been leetle boy, I play en Street—shoot marble play aa'my and +sech t'ing. W'en hawn blow and mawning star rise, slabe' hab for git up +and cook. W'en day clean, dey gone to field. 'Ooman too old for wuk in +field hab for stay on Street and mind baby. Old mens follow cow. Chillen +don't wuk in field 'till twelve or t'irteen year old. You carry dinner +to field in your can and leabe um at de heading (end of row). W'en you +feel hongry, you eat. Ebery slabe hab tas' (task) to do. Sometime one +task (quarter acre), sometime two tas', and sometime t'ree. You haf for +wuk 'til tas' t'ru (through). W'en cotton done mek, you hab odder tas'. +Haffa cut cord ob maash (marsh) grass maybe. Tas' ob maash been eight +feet long and four feet high. Den sometime you haffa (have to) roll cord +ob mud in cowpen. 'Ooman haffa rake leaf from wood into cowpen. (This +was used for fertilizer.)</p> +<p class="pnext">"W'en you knock off wuk, you kin wuk on your land. Maybe you might hab +two or t'ree tas' ob land 'round your cabin what Maussa gib you for +plant. You kin hab chicken, maybe hawg. You kin sell aig (egg) and +chicken to store and Maussa will buy your hawg. In dat way slabe kin hab +money for buy t'ing lak fish and w'atebber he want. We don't git much +fish in slabery 'cause we nebber hab boat. But sometime you kin t'row +out net en ketch shrimp. You kin also ketch 'possum and raccoon wid your +dawg.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On Sattidy night ebery slabe dat wuks gits peck ob corn and pea, and +sometime meat and clabber. You nebber see any sugar neider coffee in +slabery. You has straw in your mattress but dey gib you blanket. Ebery +year in Christmas month you gits four or eider fibe yaa'd cloth 'cording +to how you is. Out ob dat, you haffa mek your clote (clothes). You wears +dat same clote till de next year. You wears hit winter en summer, Sunday +en ebery day. You don't git no coat, but dey gib you shoe. In slabery, +you don't know nutting 'bout sheets for your bed. Us nebber know +nutting 'bout Santa Claus 'till Freedom, but on Christmas Maussa gib you +meat and syrup and maybe t'ree day widout wuk. Slabe wuk 'till daa'k on +Sattidy jest lak any odder day—I still does wuk 'till daa'k on Sattidy. +But on Sunday slabe don't wuk. On Fourth ob July, slabe wuk 'till twelbe +o'clock and den knocks off. On Sunday slabe kin wisit back and fort' +(forth) on de plantations.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slabe don't do mucher frolic. W'en 'ooman hab baby he hab mid-wife for +nine day and sometime don't haffa wuk for month w'en baby born, Missis +send clote (clothes) from Big House. W'en nigger sick, Maussa sen' +doctor. If you been berry sick, doctor gib you calomus (calomel) or +castor oil. Sometime he gib you Dead-Shot for worms, or Puke (powder) to +mek you heave. If I jest hab a pain in muh stummick, my mudder gib me +Juse-e-moke w'at he git outen de wood." (I was unable to get any definite +idea of what 'Dead-Shot', 'Puke' or 'Juse-e-moke' were.)</p> +<p class="pnext">"If slabe don't do tas', de git licking wid lash on naked back. Driver +nigger gib licking, but Maussa 'most always been dere. Sometime maybe +nigger steal hawg or run 'way to de wood, den he git licking too. Can't +be no trouble 'tween white folks and nigger in slabery time for dey do +as dey choose wid you. But Maussa good to slabe If dey done day's tas' +and don't be up to no meanness. Missis don't hab nutting to do wid +nigger.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In slabery, nigger go to white folks chu'ch. Slabe don't know nutting +'bout baptizing. W'en nigger dead, you can't knock off wuk for berry um. +You haffa wait 'till night time to put um in de graabe (grave). You +berry um by de light ob torch. Old Man Tony Ford bin de man w'at 'tend +to funerals. Dey wasn't no nigger preacher on de plantation but dey been +people to hold praise (prayers).</p> +<p class="pnext">"I nebber see nigger in chain, but I shum (see them) in stock. I see +plenty nigger sell on banjo table. Dey put you up on flatform (platform) +en dey buy you. I see my uncle sell he brung one hundred dollar. 'Ooman +don't sell widout he chillen.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mister Johnnie Fripp been my n'oung Maussa. W'en he chillen git marry, +Old Maussa diwide de nigger. He gib Maussa Johnnie t'irty slabe and I +been one ob dem. Maussa buy plantation on de Main (mainland). He build +big house. He hab four boy and two gal. He hab five hundred acre. He +ain't hab no oberseer, jest driver. We don't know no poor white trash on +de Main, neider on St. Helena Islant.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I wuk in field on Maussa Johnnie Fripp plantation. Sometime we sing +w'en us wuk. One song we sing been go lak dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Go way, Ole Man</div> +<div class="line">Go way, Ole Man</div> +<div class="line">W'ere you bin all day</div> +<div class="line">If you treat me good</div> +<div class="line">I'll stay 'till de Judgment day,</div> +<div class="line">But if you treat me bad,</div> +<div class="line">I'll sho' to run away.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"W'en war come, Missis tek me and two more niggers, put we and chillen +in two wagon and go to Baarnwell (Barnwell). My mudder been one ob de +nigger. We stay in Baarnwell all enduring (during) de war. My fadder he +been wid de Rebel—been wid Mr. Marion Chaplin. W'en Freedom come, +Missis didn't say nutting, she jest cry. But she gib we uh wagon and we +press (stole) a horse and us come back to St. Helena Islant. It tek +t'ree day to git home. W'en we git home, we fine de rest ob de nigger +yere been hab Freedom four year befo' we! I wuk for uh nigger name Peter +White. Muh fadder come back, and buy 20 acre ob land and we all lib +togedder. I gone to school one or two year, but I ain't larn (learn) +much. Four year after war, I buy fifteen acre ob land. Dat was dis yere +same place w'ere I libs now. After w'ile I goes to wuk in rock +(phosphate mines). I hears 'bout Ku Klux. Dey been bad people. Dey will +kill you. Been marry to four wife. Dis yere last one, he been born in +slabery too, but he don't 'members much 'bout um. He been leetle gal so +high jest big 'nuf for open gate for white folks. I hab t'ree chillen, +two libbing. I hear tell my boy William been marry to a w'ite 'ooman in +England and hab t'ree chillen. My gal Alice lib in New Yawk. Sometime +she send me money. I hab two great-gran.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Abraham Lincoln? He de one w'at gib we liberty for wuk for we se'f. He +come to Beaufort 'fore de war. He come as uh rail-splitter and spy +'round. He gone back w'ere he come from and say: 'You eider got to gib +dese nigger t'ree day for deyse'f or dere will be blood-shed.' And he +been right. I would be glad for shum (see him) but I nebber shum.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't know nutting 'bout dat genman Mister Davis, neider Mister +Washington—you say he been a nigger, too?</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wat I t'ink 'bout slabery? I t'ink it been good t'ing. It larn nigger +to wuk. If it ain't mek nigger wuk, he wouldn't do nutting but tief +(thief). You don't find nigger wuk for slabery running 'round looking +for ready money—dat been all dese yere n'oung nigger want. Me—I +slabing for self right now. I don't want nobody for mek me wuk, but +slabery larn me for wuk. I hab wuk five hundred head ob man in rock and +today ain't one can come to me and say: 'Sam Polite, you beat me out ob +one penny.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slabery done uh good t'ing for me, 'cause if he ain't larn me to wuk, +today I wouldn't know how to wuk."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="william-pratt"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id79">William Pratt</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with William Pratt (77)</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Newberry, S.C. RFD</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I live with my children on a farm in Newberry County. I have a good +place to live and plenty to eat. I work on the farm. I moved from +Chester County in the year 1898, the year the Spanish-American War +started.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born in Chester County in April 1860. My parents belonged to the +Pratts, but my mother belonged to the Kennedys before she married. They +went to Robert K. Kennedy and was with him as his slaves. He was a good +man but his wife was mean. She sure could 'cuss out slaves if they made +her mad. She whipped me once when I was a small boy. I couldn't do much +with her. My daddy's family belonged to the Pratts who lived seven miles +from Chester. They was good folks to slaves. They always had lots to eat +from their big garden. The white folks went hunting, and it was said +some wild turkeys was around Price's Mountain, about nine miles south of +Chester.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We got up before day and went to work and worked till sundown. My mammy +cooked for the family; and one day the mistress got mad at her and hit +her on the head with a coffee paddle. We worked all day on Saturdays but +didn't work on Sundays. On Christmas we had a holliday and had frolics +and big eats.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The patrollers once caught my daddy out at night without a pass and +whipped him a little, just for mischief. He was always allowed to go +about where he wanted to go without a pass, but next time he asked Miss +Polly for a paper to take out with him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After the war the Ku Klux didn't bother us but the Red Shirts come and +wanted us to join them, that is they wanted my brother to join. He +wouldn't join though. My brother-in-law joined and wore one of the +shirts with them. He wanted Wade Hampton elected as he believed it was +best for us. He was a Democrat and said they all ought to wear them. +Once some mischief was played on a Negro who was a Republican and voted +for Chamberlain. He was given a card and told to go to a certain +merchant and show the card to him, that the merchant was a Chamberlain +man and would give him supplies. He showed the card to the merchant who +got mad and told the Negro if he didn't get out of his store he would +kill him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some of the old folks sometimes saw ghosts. A negro went to church one +night on a horse, and somebody slipped up behind and spurred the horse. +The Negro went home as fast as he could, saying that he had seen a +ghost.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When Freedom come, Old Man Kennedy took it well and said we was all +free, but his wife just cursed us and said, 'Damn you, you are free +now'. Old Marse Kennedy had some sons killed in the war. James and +Douglas Kennedy lived in Chester County after the war.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We used to dance jigs by ourself, and we danced the 'hack-back', +skipping backwards and forwards facing each other. When one danced a jig +he would sing, 'Juber this, Juber that, Juber kills a yellow cat'. My +brother used to sing a cotton picking song: 'My mammy got meat skin laid +away; grease my belly three times a day'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We was Baptist and baptized by immersion. An old Baptist song that was +sung at the baptism was: 'Trouble water today, trouble water today, +trouble water today. He will save you, He will save you; come to Jesus +today, come to Jesus today, come to Jesus today. He will save you, He +will save you, just now.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"An old wood-chopping song which is yet sung by negroes is:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Come on baby, let us go down;</div> +<div class="line">Come on baby, let us go down;</div> +<div class="line">Ten-pounder hammer stove my head;</div> +<div class="line">'nough to kill my body dead.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I married Rosy Kennedy, a daughter of Mose Kennedy, and had five +children, but only two are now living. I have several grandchildren +living in Chester County. I worked first on the Kennedy place. Their +daughter, Miss Julie, was good to us. She married Robert Orr of Chester. +She didn't have many beaux before because her mother was so mean nobody +wanted to come around her. Miss Julie helped at my wedding. When my wife +wasn't able to get breakfast so I could go to work, Miss Julie would +tell me to come to her house and eat. That was after her mother died.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I think Abraham Lincoln didn't do just right, 'cause he threw all the +negroes on the world without any way of getting along. They was +helpless. He ought to have done it gradually and give them a chance to +get on their own. I think Booker Washington is a great man and has done +great work, because he says negroes must have education and learn to +work, too, and not sit down and expect more because he is educated.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I joined the church because I believe there is a 'here-after', and I +wanted to learn more about Jesus and get His forgiveness for what I had +done wrong. We need Him always, because St. Matthews says the last state +of man is worse than the first."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="henry-pristell"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id80">Henry Pristell</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Henry Pristell, 83 year old</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Estill, S.C.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Phoebe Faucette, Hampton County</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">'Uncle Henry' Pristell and his wife, Lucina, live in the town of Estill +in the usual type of small negro cabin. 'Uncle Henry' has a record of +his age that shows that he is eighty-three years old but he is so well +preserved that it is hard to believe. Although he is very bald, and his +closely cut hair is nearly white, he gets about so easily and talks with +such vigor he seems much younger.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, yes ma'am, I kin tell you 'bout de war times. I seen lots of dat, +ma'am. I seen lots: I couldn't tell you all 'bout it—it been so +distressful—but I kin tell some. When de Yankees come, at first sight +of dem dey was string right 'long as far back as Luray. And string out +crossways all over everywhere. Dey was jes' as thick together as de +panels in dis fence. Dey was thousands of 'em! It was in de afternoon, +an' dey was over everywhere—over de woods, over de fields, an' through +de swamps, thick as dem weeds out dere! Dey didn't leave anything! Dey +burn de fences down, shoot de cows, de hogs, de turkeys an' ducks an +geese, de chickens an' everything. Dey didn't stay no time—didn't spend +de night—jes' pass through. I see some of 'em set a fence afire an' +stop dere an' cook. Dere was rail fences of fat pinewood in dem days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"For de plantation use, dey didn't burn none of de colored folks' houses +nor de old boss' house. An' as for anybody being injured when dey pass +through I didn't see none of dat. I must speak de truth, ma'am I didn't +see anything out of the way. Jes' burn things an' take things to eat. +Dere was Mr. Thomas' place, an' Mr. David Horton's place, den Mr. +Wallace' place. Dey didn't burn any of 'em. I was on de Wallace place. +My old boss been Mr. Sam Wallace. De house been up dere till 'bout +thirty year ago. Dat been a fine place. Oh, yes ma'am. De house was +built up high off de ground—as high as de top of dat room dere. I don't +know why dey didn't burn de house. Now dat's all I kin tell you 'bout +dat. In all other little doings, I didn't so much as realize it 'cause +dey been little scattering doings. I do remember dat dere was a camp at +Lawtonville for a while. Dey built a place for de prisoners, of mud. Dey +dug a pit down in de ground 'bout three feet deep, den made de walls of +mud. I'm satisfied 'bout dat. Dey didn't stay long. It was de Southern +soldiers had de camp.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After de war, we stay dere on de place. Stay dere for years. My father +been Abram Pristell, my mother Lucy Pristell. 'Fore de war, I been jes' +a little boy. Didn't have no special work to do. I penetrates 'round de +yard dere by de kitchen. My mother would cook for de folks. Penetrate +several days an' several night. De kitchen was off from de house. It had +a big fireplace in it. Didn't have no stove. I'll be honest wid you. I'm +satisfied 'bout dat! Had a loom in it an' a spinnin' wheel. I seen dem a +many a time spinnin' an' weavin'. Oh, yes ma'am, I'm satisfied 'bout +dat! An' dey had plenty of good things to eat. Oh, dey was well +secured. You'll never see dat no more—not on dis side! But dey had +plenty of people to feed an' to take care of. 'Course we don't want dose +times no more, 'cause while some of de boss been good to 'em some of 'em +been bad. What little time we got here we wants to take it easy an' +quiet."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="junius-quattlebaum"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id81">Junius Quattlebaum</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Junius Quattlebaum, 84 years old</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Henry Grant, Columbia, S.C.</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Junius Quattlebaum lives with his grandson, a short distance south of +the Guignard Brick Factory, in the town of New Brookland, S.C. He is +partially capable of self-support from what work and produce he is able +to pick up around the City Market in Columbia.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, sir, you want to talk to me 'bout them good old days back yonder +in slavery time, does you? I call them good old days, 'cause I has never +had as much since. I has worked harder since de war betwixt de North and +de South than I ever worked under my marster and missus. I was just a +small boy while de war was gwine on, but I was big 'nough to see and +know what went on dere on de plantation all right.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born on Marster Jim Quattlebaum's plantation over dere in Saluda +County. He had 'bout sixty-five slaves in all, countin' de chillun. My +marster wouldn't have no overseer, 'cause he say overseers would whip +his niggers and he didn't 'low nobody, white or black, to do dat. If his +niggers had to be whipped, he was gwine to do dat hisself and then they +wouldn't be hurt much. Marster lak to see his slaves happy and singin' +'bout de place. If he ever heard any of them quarrelin' wid each other, +he would holler at them and say: 'Sing! Us ain't got no time to fuss on +dis place.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marster lak he dram, 'specially in de fall of de year when it fust git +cool. Us used to have big corn shuckin's on de plantation at night, +'long 'bout de fust of November of every year. All de corn was hauled +from de fields and put in two or three big piles in de barnyard and de +slaves would git 'round them, sing and shuck de corn. De slave women +would hang buckets of raw tar afire on staves drove in de ground 'round +de crowd, to give light. Them was sho' happy times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marster would give all de grown slaves a dram or two of pure apple +brandy, on them corn shuckin' nights, and take several smiles (drinks) +hisself. I 'members so well, one of them nights, dat marster come to de +barnyard, where us was all lit up, a singin' fit to kill hisself. Us was +s'prised to see marster settin' down wid us niggers and shuckin' corn as +fas' as us was. After a spell, him stood up and took 'nother smile, then +say: 'Pass de jug 'round and let's all take a drink.' Wid dat, one of de +niggers grab de jug of liquor and passed it 'round to all de shuckers. +Then marster say: 'Everybody sing.' Some of de niggers 'quire: 'What you +gwine to sing?' He say:—'Sing dis song: Pass 'round de bottle and we'll +all take a drink.' Some of them in de crowd 'jected to dat song, 'cause +they had 'nough liquor in them to 'ject to anything. Marster kinda +scratch he head and say: 'Well, let me git a pole and you all is gwine +to sing.' And singin' dere was, as sho' as you's born. Them niggers +'round de corn piles dat night h'isted dat song right now; dere was no +waitin' for de pole or nothin' else. They wanted to sing, bad.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De next mornin', after dis night I's talkin' 'bout, Miss Martha, our +good missus come 'round to de slave houses and 'quire how they all felt. +She say: 'You all can rest today and do what you want to do, 'cause +Marster Jim ain't feelin' so well dis mornin'.' She knowed what was +gwine on at de corn shuckin' de night befo' but she ain't said nothin' +'bout it. Mammy said many times dat de missus didn't lak dat whiskey +drinkin' business in nobody. She was a pure and 'ligious woman if dere +ever was one in dis world. Dere ain't no wonder dat de marster was +foolish 'bout her. Mammy say de onliest way for both white and black to +keep from lovin' Miss Martha, was to git away from her and not be so +you could see her.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dis is de way our marsters treated deir slaves. I don't care what de +world does write and say 'bout slave owners; I knows dis. Us slaves dat +b'long on marster's plantation had de best folks to live and work wid I +has ever seen or knowed. Dere is no sich kindness dese days betwixt de +boss and them dat does de work. All de slaves worked pretty hard +sometimes but never too hard. They worked wid light and happy hearts, +'cause they knowed dat marster would take good care of them; give them a +plenty of good vittles, warm clothes, and warm houses to sleep in, when +de cold weather come. They sho' had nothin' to worry 'bout and no +overseer to drive them to work, lak some slaves on other plantations +had. Easy livin' is 'bout half of life to white folks but it is all of +life to most niggers. It sho' is.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, sir, de patarollers (patrollers) didn't bother none of marster's +slaves. I has done told you he wouldn't let nobody, white or black, whip +his niggers, 'cause he thought too much of them and de work they could +do on de plantation when they was well and healthy. Yes, sir, I +'members, lak yistiddy, when Columbia was burned by de Yankees in 1865. +All dat happened in de month of February, I thinks. Some of de niggers +on de plantation said they seen de smoke from dat big fire, but I has my +doubts 'bout de truth of dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When Christmas come, all de slaves on de plantation had three days give +to them, to rest and enjoy themselves. Missus and de two little misses +fixed up a big Christmas tree. It was a big holly bush wid red berries +all over it. It sho' was a picture of beautifulness. I can see missus so +plain now, on Christmas mornin', a flirtin' 'round de Christmas trees, +commandin' de little misses to put de names of each slave on a package +and hang it on de tree for them. She was always pleased, smilin' and +happy, 'cause she knowed dat she was doin' somethin' dat would make +somebody else happy. She tried as hard to make de slaves happy as she +did to make her own white friends happy, it seem lak to me. Close to de +tree was a basket and in dat basket was put in a bag of candy, apples, +raisins and nuts for all de chillun. Nobody was left out.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Christmas mornin', marster would call all de slaves to come to de +Christmas tree. He made all de chillun set down close to de tree and de +grown slaves jined hands and make a circle 'round all. Then marster and +missus would give de chillun deir gifts, fust, then they would take +presents from de tree and call one slave at a time to step out and git +deirs. After all de presents was give out, missus would stand in de +middle of de ring and raise her hand and bow her head in silent thanks +to God. All de slaves done lak her done. After all dis, everybbdy was +happy, singin', and laughin' all over de place. Go 'way from here, white +man! Don't tell me dat wasn't de next step to heaven to de slaves on our +plantation. I sees and dreams 'bout them good old times, back yonder, to +dis day."</p> +<div class="footnotes level-3 section smaller" id="id6"> +<h3 class="level-3 pfirst section-title title">Footnotes</h3> +<table class="docutils footnote-group" frame="void" rules="none"> +<colgroup><col class="label"/><col/></colgroup> +<tbody valign="top"> +<tr class="footnote" id="id3"> +<td class="label"><a class="fn-backref pginternal" href="#id2">[1]</a></td><td><p class="first last pfirst">Verification not available.</p> +</td></tr> +<tr class="footnote" id="id5"> +<td class="label"><a class="fn-backref pginternal" href="#id4">[2]</a></td><td><p class="first last pfirst">Swift movement</p> +</td></tr> +</tbody> +</table> +</div> +<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 36022 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |