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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:37:38 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:37:38 -0700 |
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diff --git a/28170-h/28170-h.htm b/28170-h/28170-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c077e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/28170-h/28170-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9503 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Slave Narratives, Volume XIV, + South Carolina Narratives, Part 4, by the Federal Writers' Project of + the Works Progress Administration for the State of South Carolina + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 15%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + color: #BDBDBD; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 95%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: #C0C0C0; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.block {margin: auto; text-align: center; width: 34%;} + +.poem { + margin: 1em; + text-align: left; + font-size: 96% +} + +h3.chapter2 {font-size: 125%; padding-bottom: 1em;} + +.tnote { + border-style: double; + border-width: 6px; + padding: 1em; + background: #FFFFFF; + text-align: left; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; + font-size: 95%; + border-color: #000000; +} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 1em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 83%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.minispace {margin-bottom: 1em;} + +.microspace {margin-bottom: .5em;} + +.nanospace {padding-bottom: .25em;} + +.border { + border-style: dashed; + border-width: 2px; + padding: 2em; + background: #FFFFFF; + border-color: #000000; +} + +.under {text-decoration: underline;} + +.captionl {float: left; width: auto;} + +.captionr {float: right; width: auto;} + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery +in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves, by Work Projects Administration + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Slave Narratives: a Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves + South Carolina Narratives, Part 4 + +Author: Work Projects Administration + +Release Date: February 24, 2009 [EBook #28170] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES, PART 4 *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by the Library of Congress, +Manuscript Division) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> +<br /> +This text is mainly written in dialect. As such, the majority of the spelling, grammar, and punctuation irregularities have been preserved, with the exception of a number of typographical errors. A full +list of them can be found at the end of the text. +</div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> + +<h1>SLAVE NARRATIVES</h1> + +<h2 style="margin-bottom: 2em;"><i>A Folk History of Slavery in the United States<br /> +From Interviews with Former Slaves</i></h2> + +<h4>TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY<br /> +THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT<br /> +1936-1938<br /> +ASSEMBLED BY<br /> +THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT<br /> +WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION<br /> +FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA<br /> +SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS</h4> + +<h3 style="margin-top: 2em;"><i>Illustrated with Photographs</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 15%; margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 1em;" /> +<h4>WASHINGTON 1941</h4> + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<hr /> +<h3>VOLUME XIV<br /> +SOUTH CAROLINA NARRATIVES<br /> +PART 4<br /><br /></h3> + +<h3>Prepared by<br /> +the Federal Writers' Project of<br /> +the Works Progress Administration<br /> +for the State of South Carolina</h3> +<hr /> +<div class="minispace"> </div> + +<h2>INFORMANTS</h2> +<div class="minispace"> </div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="table of contents" width="40%"> +<tr><td align="left">Raines, Mary</td><td align="right"><a href="#in1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Range, Frank</td><td align="right"><a href="#in2">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rawls, Sam</td><td align="right"><a href="#in3">5</a>, <a href="#in4">7</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Renwick, Ellen</td><td align="right"><a href="#in5">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rice, Anne</td><td align="right"><a href="#in6">10</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rice, Jessie</td><td align="right"><a href="#in7">12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rice, Phillip</td><td align="right"><a href="#in8">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Richardson, Martha</td><td align="right"><a href="#in9">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Riley, Mamie</td><td align="right"><a href="#in10">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Riser, Susie</td><td align="right"><a href="#in11">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Roberts, Isom</td><td align="right"><a href="#in12">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Robertson, Alexander</td><td align="right"><a href="#in13">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Robinson, Charlie</td><td align="right"><a href="#in14">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rosboro, Al</td><td align="right"><a href="#in15">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rosboro, Tom</td><td align="right"><a href="#in16">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rosborough, Reuben</td><td align="right"><a href="#in17">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rose, William</td><td align="right"><a href="#in18">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Russell, Benjamin</td><td align="right"><a href="#in19">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rutherford, Joe</td><td align="right"><a href="#in20">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rutherford, Lila</td><td align="right"><a href="#in21">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Rutledge, Sabe</td><td align="right"><a href="#in22">59</a>, <a href="#in23">65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ryan, Henry</td><td align="right"><a href="#in24">71</a>, <a href="#in25">74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Satterwhite, Emoline</td><td align="right"><a href="#in26">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Scaife, Alexander</td><td align="right"><a href="#in27">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Scantling, Eliza</td><td align="right"><a href="#in28">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Scott, Mary</td><td align="right"><a href="#in29">81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Scott, Nina</td><td align="right"><a href="#in30">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Scurry, Morgan</td><td align="right"><a href="#in31">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Simmons, Ransom</td><td align="right"><a href="#in32">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sligh, Alfred</td><td align="right"><a href="#in33">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Smith, Dan</td><td align="right"><a href="#in34">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Smith, Hector</td><td align="right"><a href="#in35">100</a>, <a href="#in36">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Smith, Jane</td><td align="right"><a href="#in37">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Smith, Mary</td><td align="right"><a href="#in38">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Smith, Prince</td><td align="right"><a href="#in39">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Smith, Silas</td><td align="right"><a href="#in40">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Sparrow, Jessie</td><td align="right"><a href="#in41">121</a>, <a href="#in42">125</a>, <a href="#in43">130</a>, <a href="#in44">136</a>, <a href="#in45">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Starke, Rosa</td><td align="right"><a href="#in46">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Stewart, Josephine</td><td align="right"><a href="#in47">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Suber, Bettie</td><td align="right"><a href="#in48">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Swindler, Ellen</td><td align="right"><a href="#in49">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Taylor, Mack</td><td align="right"><a href="#in50">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Thompson, Delia</td><td align="right"><a href="#in51">160</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Toatley, Robert</td><td align="right"><a href="#in52">163</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Veals, Mary</td><td align="right"><a href="#in53">167</a>, <a href="#in54">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Walker, Manda</td><td align="right"><a href="#in55">170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Walker, Med</td><td align="right"><a href="#in56">174</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Waring, Daniel</td><td align="right"><a href="#in57">181</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Washington, Nancy</td><td align="right"><a href="#in58">184</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Watson, Charley</td><td align="right"><a href="#in59">188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">White, Dave</td><td align="right"><a href="#in60">191</a>, <a href="#in61">194</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">White, Tena</td><td align="right"><a href="#in62">196</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Williams, Bill</td><td align="right"><a href="#in63">199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Williams, Jesse</td><td align="right"><a href="#in64">202</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Williams, Mary</td><td align="right"><a href="#in65">206</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Williams, Willis</td><td align="right"><a href="#in66">208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wilson, Emoline</td><td align="right"><a href="#in67">213</a>, <a href="#in68">215</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wilson, Jane</td><td align="right"><a href="#in69">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Woodberry, Genia</td><td align="right"><a href="#in70">218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Woodberry, Julia</td><td align="right"><a href="#in71">227</a>, <a href="#in72">232</a>, <a href="#in73">237</a>, <a href="#in74">242</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Woods, George</td><td align="right"><a href="#in75">247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Woodward, Aleck</td><td align="right"><a href="#in76">253</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Woodward, Mary</td><td align="right"><a href="#in77">257</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Worth, Pauline</td><td align="right"><a href="#in78">260</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wright, Daphney</td><td align="right"><a href="#in79">266</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Young, Bill</td><td align="right"><a href="#in80">270</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Young, Bob</td><td align="right"><a href="#in81">273</a></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr /> +<div class="minispace"> </div> + + +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in1" id="in1"></a>MARY RAINES<br /><br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 99 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Mary Raines is the oldest living person, white or black, in Fairfield<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span> +County. If she survives until next December, she will have attained +her century of years. She lives with her widowed daughter, Fannie McCollough, +fifty-seven years old, and a son, Joe Raines, aged 76 years. They rent a +two-room frame house, on lands of Mrs. Sallie Wylie, Chester County, S.C. +Joe, the son, is a day laborer on nearby farms. Fannie cooks for Mrs. W.T. +Raines. Old Mother Mary has been receiving a county pension of $5.00 per +month for several years.</p> + +<p>"How old would Marse William Woodward be if he hadn't died befo' +I gwine to die? A hundred and twenty, you say? Well, dat's 'bout de way +I figured my age. Him was a nephew of Marse Ed, de fust Marse Ed P. Mobley. +Him say dat when him 'come twenty-one, old marster give him a birthday dinner +and 'vite folks to it. Marse Riley McMaster, from Winnsboro, S.C., was dere +a flyin' 'round my young mistress, Miss Harriett. Marse Riley was a young +doctor, ridin' 'round wid saddlebags. While they was all settin' down to +dinner, de young doctor have to git up in a hurry to go see my mammy. Left +his plate piled up wid turkey, nice dressin', rice and gravy, candy 'tatoes, +and apple marmalade and cake. De wine 'canter was a settin' on de 'hogany +sideboard. All dis him leave to go see mammy, who was a squallin' lak a +passle of patarollers (patrollers) was a layin' de lash on her. When de +young doctor go and come back, him say as how my mammy done got all right +and her have a gal baby. Then him say dat Marse Ed, his uncle, took him to +de quarter where mammy was, look me all over and say: 'Ain't her a good one? +Must weigh ten pounds. I's gwine to name dis baby for your mama, William.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +Tell her I name her, Mary, for her, but I 'spects some folks'll call her +'Polly', just lak they call your mama, 'Polly'.</p> + +<p>"I was a strong gal, went to de field when I's twelve years old, +hoe my acre of cotton, 'long wid de grown ones, and pick my 150 pounds of +cotton. As I wasn't scared of de cows, they set me to milkin' and churnin'. +Bless God! Dat took me out of de field. House servants 'bove de field servants, +them days. If you didn't git better rations and things to eat in de +house, it was your own fault, I tells you! You just have to help de chillun +to take things and while you doin' dat for them, you take things for yourself. +I never call it stealin'. I just call it takin' de jams, de jellies, de biscuits, +de butter and de 'lasses dat I have to reach up and steal for them chillun +to hide 'way in deir little stomaches, and me, in my big belly.</p> + +<p>"When Joe drive de young doctor, Marse Riley, out to see Mass Harriett, +while Marse Riley doin' his courtin' in de parlor, Joe was doin' his courtin' +in de kitchen. Joe was as smart as de nex' one. Us made faster time than them +in de parlor; us beat them to de marriage. Marse Riley call it de altar, but +Joe always laugh and say it was de halter. Many is de time I have been home +wid them sixteen chillun, when him was a gallavantin' 'round, and I wished I +had a got a real halter on dat husband of mine.</p> + +<p>"I b'longs to de Gladden's Grove African Methodist 'Piscopal Church. +Too old to shout but de great day is comin', when I'll shout and sing to de +music of dat harp of 10,000 strings up yonder. Oh! Won't dat be a joyful day, +when dese old ailin' bones gonna rise again." (Then the old darkey became suffused +in tears, lapsed into a silence and apathy, from which she couldn't be +aroused. Finally she slumbered and snored. It would have been unkind to question +her further.)</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 935</b><br /> +<b>Hattie Mobley</b><br /> +<b>Richland County</b><br /> +</div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in2" id="in2"></a>FRANK RANGE<br /><br /> + +CIVIL WAR SERVANT and HERO</h3> + + +<p>At the age of one hundred and three, Frank Range is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +familiar figure on the streets of Greenville, talking freely of +pre-Civil and Civil War days, and the part he played in the war.</p> + +<p>Frank, the oldest of nine children, was born of slave +parents, Lenard and Elizabeth Herbert, on the plantation of Mr. +Jim Boler, Newberry, South Carolina. He was sold several times, +and is known by the name of one of his owners, John Range.</p> + +<p>During the Civil War his master, Mr. Jim Herbert, carried +him to the war as a cook, and when necessary, he was pressed into +service, throwing up breast-works; and while he was engaged in this +work, at Richmond Va. a terrific bombardment of their lines was made, +and a part of their breast-works was crushed in, and his master buried +beneath it. Frantic with fear for the safety of his master, Frank began +to move the dirt away; finally he was able to drag him to safety. +Though shot and shell were falling all around him, he came out unscathed.</p> + +<p>Frank Range returned to Newberry at the close of the war, +after which he moved to Greenville County in 1901, and into the city +in 1935. He is never happier than when, in the center of a group of +willing hearers, he is reciting in a sing-song tone the different +periods of his life.</p> + +<p>He attributes his longevity to the fact that he has never +tasted whiskey, never chewed tobacco; never had a fight; toothache<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +and headache are unknown to him; the service of a physician has +never been needed; he does not know one playing card from another. +He can walk five or more miles with seeming ease; is jovial and +humorous.</p> + +<p>He receives a state pension of twenty five dollars annually. +His place of residence is 101 Hudson St. Greenville, S.C.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">References;</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;">Mr. Guy A. Gullick,<br /> +Probate Judge, Greenville County.<br /> +<br /> +Frank Range (information given concerning himself)<br /> +101 Hudson St. Greenville S.C.</p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>June 15, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b> +</div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in3" id="in3"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I was born in 1835 in Lexington County, S.C. I know I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +was 12 years old de last year of de war. I belonged to John +Hiller in Lexington County, near Columbia, S.C. Old Marse Hiller +was strict to his slaves, wasn't mean, but often whipped 'em. +I thought it was all right then. When de Yankees come through +burning, killing and stealing stock, I was in marse's yard. Dey +come up whar de boss was standing, told him dere was going to be +a battle, grabbed him and hit him. Dey burned his house, stole de +stock, and one Yankee stuck his sword to my breast and said fer me +to come wid him or he would kill me. O' course I went along. Dey +took me as fer as Broad River, on t'other side o' Chapin; then +turned me loose and told me to run fast or they would shoot me. +I went fast and found my way back home by watching de sun. Dey +told me to not go back to dat old man.</p> + +<p>"De slaves never learnt to read and write. If any o' dem +was caught trying to learn to read or write, dey was whipped bad. +I kotched on to what de white chilluns said, and learnt by myself +to say de alphabet.</p> + +<p>"We went to de white churches atter de war, and set in de +gallery. Den de niggers set up a 'brush harbor' church fer demselves. +We went to school at de church, and atter school was out +in de atternoon, we had preaching.</p> + +<p>"Befo' freedom come, de patrollers was strong dere, and +whipped any niggers dey kotched out without a pass; wouldn't let +dem go to church without a pass.</p> + +<p>"Lots of hunting round dere, dey hunted rabbits, squirrels, foxes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +and 'possums. Dey fished like dey do now.</p> + +<p>"De white folks had old brick ovens away from de house, and +wide fireplaces in de kitchens. Dey cooked many things on Saturdays, +to last several days. Saturday afternoons, we had off to +catch up on washing and other things we wanted to do.</p> + +<p>"I 'member de Ku Klux and de Red Shirts, but don't 'member +anything dey did dere.</p> + +<p>"We had corn-shuckings and cotton pickings, when de white +people would have everybody to come and help. Us niggers would +help. Dey had big suppers afterwards.</p> + +<p>"We had plenty to eat from de garden of de boss, a big garden +dat furnished all de slaves. Den de boss killed hogs and had +other things to eat. Most o' de things raised in de garden, was +potatoes, turnips, collards and peas.</p> + +<p>"Some of us had witches. One old woman was a witch, and she +rode me one night. I couldn't get up one night, had a ketching of +my breath and couldn't rise up. She held me down. In dem days, was +lots o' fevers with de folks. Dey cured 'em and other sickness +wid teas from root herbs and barks.</p> + +<p>"Abraham Lincoln was a good man. He said you folks ought to +let dem niggers loose and let dem go to work. He come wid his two +men, Grant and Sherman, and captured de slave bosses. Jeff Davis +was one o' de forerunners of de war. Don't know much about him. +Booker T. Washington is a good man. Think he is in office fer a +good purpose. I been married four times, Was young man when I married +first time. Gussie Gallman, my last wife, is living wid me."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Sam Rawls (84), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/9/37)</span> +</p> + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>Folklore</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>Oct. 13, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in4" id="in4"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I live wid my fourth wife and she is much younger dan me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +I am unable to work and have to stay in bed lots of de time. My wife +works at odd jobs, like washing, ironing and cooking. We rent a two-room +house from Miss Ann Ruff.</p> + +<p>"I belonged to John Hiller. He was a good master but he +worked his slaves hard. Dat was in Lexington County.</p> + +<p>"I heard dat Gen. Grant said de slaves ought to get 40 +acres of land and a mule so dey could go to work; but dey never got +any dat I knows of. Atter Freedom dey worked as wage earners and share-croppers. +Some went to other farms to get jobs. Dat's about what dey +do now, but some of dem saved a little money and bought farms and +some started little businesses of deir own.</p> + +<p>"De Ku Klux didn't have much influence wid de slaves or ex-slaves. +As soon as de war broke, dey went riding up and down de public +roads to catch and beat niggers. My brother run off when dey got +atter him. He went to Orangeburg County and stayed down dere.</p> + +<p>"I voted twice den, once at Prosperity and again at Newberry. +I was a Republican, of course. Some of de Niggers of dis +state was elected to office, but dey was not my kinfolks nor special +friends. I think niggers ought to vote so dey could vote fer good +white folks; and dey ought to run fer office if dey could be elected +by good white folks.</p> + +<p>"I was sixteen years old when de Yankees come through dis +country. Dey caught me in de road and made me go wid dem to Broad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +River where dey camped one night. Den dey turned me loose and told +me to git. I run as fast as I could. I followed de setting sun, de +road running towards de sun all de time, and got home about night.</p> + +<p>"Since freedom is come de niggers have worked mostly on +farms as share-croppers; some as renters wid deir own crops to raise.</p> + +<p>"De present generation of niggers ain't got much sense. +Dey work when dey want to, and have deir own way about it. De old +niggers was learned to work when dey was little.</p> + +<p>"I don't know nothing about de Nat Turner Rebellion. I +never know'd but one old nigger dat come from Virginia, old Ellen +Abner. She lived below Prosperity fer a long time, in de Stoney Hills.</p> + +<p>"Yes sir, I tries to live right and git along wid everybody."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Sam Rawls (80), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/23/37.</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885 -1-</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>District #4</b><br /> +<b>May 31, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Martha Ritter</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in5" id="in5"></a>FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I was born on Capt. John P. Kinard's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +place. My mammy and pa was Lucy and Eph Kinard who belonged +to Marse Kinard. Marse Kinard was good to his slaves—didn't +whip them much. He whipped me a little. When I was a little +girl I slept in the big house in the room with my mistress and +her husband, and waited on them. I worked when I got old +enough, in the field, and anywhere around. When I wouldn't +work good, my mammy whipped me most.</p> + +<p>"I 'member the folks cooked in skillets +over an old fireplace.</p> + +<p>"After the war was over and freedom come +we stayed on with Capt. Kinard, 'till I married and then went +over to Dock Renwick's place where my husband worked. I married +Tom Renwick. We went to the church of the colored folks after +the war, and had preachings in mornings and evenings and at night, +too. We didn't have no nigger schools, and we didn't learn to +read and write.</p> + +<p>"The white folks had corn-shuckings, cotton +pickings at night, when the mistress would fix a big dinner for +all working."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Ellen Renwick (79), RFD, Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.3em;">Interviewer: Mr. G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St., +Newberry, S.C.</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885 -1-</b><br /> +<b>District #4</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>June 7, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in6" id="in6"></a>FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES</h3> + + + +<p>"I was born in Spartanburg County, S.C., near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +Glenn Springs. I can't 'member slavery or de war, but my ma +and pa who was Green Foster and his wife, Mary Posey Foster, always +said I was a big gal when the war stopped, when freedom come.</p> + +<p>"We belonged to Seth Posey who had a big farm +there. He was a good man, but sure made us work. I worked in +the fields when I was small, hoed and picked cotton, hoed corn. +They didn't give us no money for it. All we got was a place to +sleep and a little to eat. The big man had a good garden and give +us something from it. He raised loads of hogs, to eat and to sell. +He sold lots of them. The young fellows hunted rabbits, possums, +squirrels, wild turkeys, partridges, doves, and went fishing. +The Master's wife, Miss Nancy, was good to us. She had one son, +William.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I 'member my ma telling us 'bout the padder-rollers. +They would ride around, whipping niggers.</p> + +<p>"My ma said her step-mother sold her. Sometimes +they would take crowds of slaves to Mississippi, taking away +mothers from their infant babies, leaving the babies on the floor.</p> + +<p>"We always shuck corn and shell it at night, on +moon-light nights we pick cotton. On Saturday afternoons we had +frolics, sometimes frolics 'till Sunday daylight, then sleep all +day Sunday.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When we got sick all the medicine we took was +turpentine—dat would cure almost any ailment. Some of the +niggers used Sampson snake weed or peach leaves boiled and tea +drunk.</p> + +<p>"I joined the church when I was 12 years old +'cause the other girls joined. I think everybody ought to join +a church to get their souls right for heaven:</p> + +<p>"I married Charley Rice in Spartanburg County, +at a colored man's house, named Henry Fox, by a colored preacher +named 'Big Eye' Bill Rice. I had four children, and have five +grand-children. I have been living in Newberry about 35 years +or more. I worked as a wash-woman many years.</p> + +<p>"When freedom come, my folks stayed on with Capt. +Posey, and I washed and ironed with them later when I was big +enough. I done some cooking, too. I could card and spin and +make homespun dresses. My ma learned me.</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about Abraham Lincoln and Jeff +Davis but reckon dey was good men. I never learned to read and +write. Booker Washington, I reckon, is a good man."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Anne Rice (75), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.3em;">Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St., +Newberry, S.C.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>Folklore</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>Jan. 17, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in7" id="in7"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"My people tells me a lot about when I was a lil' wee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +boy. I has a clear mind and I allus has had one. My folks did not talk +up people's age like folks do dese days. Every place dat I be now, +'specially round dese government folks, first thing dat dey wants to +know is your name. Well, dat is quite natu'al, but de very next question +is how old you is. I don't know, why it is, but dey sho do dat. +As my folks never talked age, it never worried me till jes' here of +late. So dey says to me dat last week I give one age to de man, and +now I gives another. Soon I see'd dat and I had to rest my mind on +dat as well as de mind of de government folks. So I settled it at +80 years old. Dat gives me respect from everybody dat I sees. Den +it is de truth, too, kaise I come along wid everybody dat is done +gone and died now. De few white folks what I was contemperment (contemporary) +wid, 'lows dat I is 80 and dey is dat, too.</p> + +<p>"You know dat I does 'member when dat Sherman man went +through here wid dem awful mens he had. Dey 'lowed dat dey was gwine +to Charlotte to git back to Columbia. I never is heard of sech befo' +or since. We lived at old man Jerry Moss's in Yorkville, way back +den. Yes sir, everyone said Yorkville, den, but dey ain't never +called Gaffney like dat. Stories goes round 'bout Sherman shooting +folks. Some say dat he shot a big rock off'n de State House in Columbia. +My Ma and my Pa, Henry and Charity Rice, hid me wid dem when +Sherman come along. Us never see'd him, Lawd God no, us never wanted +to see him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Folks allus crying hard times dese days, ain't no hard +times now like it was atter Sherman went through Yorkville. My ma and +pa give me ash cake and 'simmon beer to eat for days atter dat. White +folks never had no mo', not till a new crop was grow'd. Dat year de +seasons was good and gardens done well. Till den us nearly starved +and we never had no easy time gitting garden seed to plant, neither.</p> + +<p>"Yes sir, if I's handy to locust I makes locust beer; den +if I's handy to 'simmons, why den I makes 'simmon beer. Now it's jes' +for to pass de time dat us does dat. But gwine back to de war; den it +was for necessity. Dese young'uns now don't know what hard times is. +Dey all has bread and meat and coffee, no matter how poor dey is. If +dey had to live for days and weeks on ash cake and 'simmon beer, as +us did den, and work and wait on a crop wid nothing but dat in deir +bellies; den dey could grumble hard times. I allus tells 'em to shut +up when dey starts anything like dat around me.</p> + +<p>"When dat crop come along, we sho did fall in and save +all us could for de next year. Every kind of seed and pod dat grow'd +we saved and dried for next spring or fall planting. Atter folks is +once had deir belly aching and growling for victuals, dey ain't never +gwine to throw no rations and things away no mo'. Young folks is +powerful wasteful, but if something come along to break up deir good +time like it did to us when dat man Sherman held everything up, dey +sho will take heed, and dey won't grumble 'bout it neither, cause dey +won't have no time to grumble.</p> + +<p>"Things passes over quicker sometimes dan we figures out +dat dey will. Everything, no matter how good it be or how hard, passes +over. Dey jes' does like dat. So dem Yankees went on somewhars, I +never know'd whar, and everything round Yorkville was powerful relieved.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +Den de Confederate soldiers started coming across Broad River. Befo' +dey got home, word had done got round dat our folks had surrendered; +but dem Yankees never fit (fought) us out—dey starved us out. If +things had been equal us would a-been fighting dem till dis day, dat +us sho would. I can still see dem soldiers of ours coming across +Broad River, all dirty, filthy, and lousy. Dey was most starved, and +so poor and lanky. And deir hosses was in de same fix. Men and hosses +had know'd plenty till dat Sherman come along, but most of dem never +know'd plenty no more. De men got over it better dan de hosses. +Women folks cared for de men. Dey brewed tea from sage leaves, sassafras +root and other herb teas. Nobody never had no money to fetch +no medicine from de towns wid, so dey made liniments and salves from +de things dat grow'd around about in de woods and gardens.</p> + +<p>"I told you 'bout how small I was, but my brother, Jim +Rice, went to Charleston and helped to make dem breastworks down dar. +I has never see'd dem, but dem dat has says dat dey is still standing +in good conditions. Cose de Yankees tore up all dat dey could when +dey got dar.</p> + +<p>"Lots of rail fences was made back in dem days. Folks had a +'no fence' law, dat meant dat everybody fenced in deir fields and let +de stock run free. Hogs got wild and turkeys was already wild. Sometimes +bulls had to be shot to keep dem from tearing up everything. +But folks never fenced in no pasture den. Dey put a rail fence all +around de fields, and in dem days de fields was never bigger dan ten +or fifteen acres. Logs was plentiful, and some niggers, called 'rail +splitters', never done nothing else but split rails to make fences.</p> + +<p>"If I recollects right, Wade Hampton broke down fence +laws in dis country. I sho heard him talk in Yorkville. Dey writ<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +about him in de Yorkville Inquirer and dey still has dat paper over +dar till now. De Red Shirts come along and got Wade Hampton in. He +scared de Yankees and Carpetbaggers and all sech folks as dem away +from our country. Dey went back whar dey come from, I reckon.</p> + +<p>"De Ku Klux was de terriblest folks dat ever crossed my +path. Who dey was I ain't never know'd, but dey took Alex Leech to +Black's Ford on Bullet Creek and killed him for being a radical. It +was three weeks befo' his folks got hold of his body.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Bell's calves got out and did not come back for a +long time. Mrs. Bell fear'd dat dey was gitting wild, so she sent de +milk girl down on de creek to git dem calves. Dat girl had a time, +but she found 'em and drove 'em back to de lot. De calves give her a +big chase and jumped de creek near a big raft of logs dat had done +washed up from freshets. All over dem logs she saw possums, musrats +and buzzards a-setting around. She took her stick and drove dem all +away, wid dem buzzards puking at her. When dey had left, she see'd +uncle Alex laying up dar half e't up by all dem varmints.</p> + +<p>"She know'd dat it must be him. When she left, dem buzzards +went back to deir perch. First thing dey done was to lap up +deir own puke befo' dey started on uncle Alex again. Yes sir, dat's +de way turkey buzzards does. Dey pukes on folks to keep dem away, +and you can't go near kaise it be's so nasty; but dem buzzards don't +waste nothing. Little young buzzards looks like down till dey gits +over three days old. You can go to a buzzard roost and see for yourself, +but you sho better stay out'n de way of de old buzzard's puke. +Dey sets around de little ones and keeps everything off by puking.</p> + +<p>"Pacolet used to be called Buzzard Roost, kaise in de old +days dey had a rail outside de bar-room dat de drunks used to hang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +over and puke in a gully. De buzzards would stay in dat gully and lap +up dem drunkards' puke. One night a old man went in a drunkard's +sleep in de bar-room. De bar tender shoved him out when he got ready +to close, and he rolled up against dis here rail dat I am telling +you about. He 'lowed dat next morning when he woke up, two buzzards +was setting on his shirt front eating up his puke. He said, 'You is +too soon', and grabbed one by de leg and wrung his head off. But befo' +he could git its head wrung off it had done puked his own puke back +on him. He said dat was de nastiest thing he ever got into, and dat +he never drunk no more liquor. Dem days is done past and gone, and it +ain't nobody hardly knows Pacolet used to be called Buzzard Roost.</p> + +<p>"Lawd have mercy, white folks! Here I is done drapped +plumb off'n my subject; but a old man's mind will jes' run waa'ry at +times. Me and Joe, Alex's son, went to see de officer 'bout gitting +Joe's pa buried. He 'lowed dat Alex's body was riddled wid bullets; +so we took him and put his bones and a little rotten flesh dat dem +buzzards had left, in de box we made, and fetched it to de site and +buried him. Nobody ever seed Alex but me, Joe, and dat gal dat went +atter dem calves. Us took shovels and throw'd his bones in de box. +When we got de top nailed on, we was both sick. Now, things like dat +don't come to pass. I still thinks of de awful days and creeps runs +all over me yet.</p> + +<p>"All my brothers, sisters, mother and father is done gone. +And I is looking to leave befo' a great while. I is trying every day +to git ready, Lawd. I been making ready for years. Smart mens tries +to make you live on, but dey can't git above death. Tain't no use."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Jesse Rice (80), Littlejohn St., Gaffney, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 1/8/38</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>June 15, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in8" id="in8"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I'm living on Mr. Russel Emmitt's place. I never did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +nothing but drive cows when I was a little boy growing up. Miss +Cum and Miss Lizzie Rice was Marse Alex's sisters. Marse Alex +done died, and dey was my mistress. Dey tuck and sold de plantation +afo dey died, here 'bout twenty years ago. Dat whar my +ma found me and den she died.</p> + +<p>"My grandparents, Jane and Peter Stevens, brung me up. I +was a little farm boy and driv cows fer de overseer, Jim Blalock. +Miss Cum was really Miss Ann. Miss Ann had a hundred niggers, +herself, and Miss Lizzie had might nigh dat many, asides dem +what Marse Alex done left 'em. De overseer try to act rough out +o' Miss Ann's sight, and she find it out and set him down a peg.</p> + +<p>"Miss Jane have our shirts made on de looms. She let us +wear long shirts and go in our shirt tails, and us had to keep +'em clean, too, 'cause Miss Jane never like no dirt around her. +Miss Jane have charge of de whole house and everything along +wid it.</p> + +<p>"Us had three hundred hogs to tend to, two hundred +yellings and heifers, and Lawdy knows how many sheep and goats. +Us fed dem things and kept 'em fat. When butchering time come, +us stewed out the mostest lard and we had enough side-meat to +supply the plantation the year round. Our wheat land was fertilized +wid load after load of cotton seed. De wheat us raised +was de talk of de country side. 'Sides dat, dare was rye, oats<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +and barley, and I ain't said nothing 'bout de bottom corn dat +laid in de cribs from year to year.</p> + +<p>"Our smokehouse was allus full o' things to eat, not only +fer de white folks but fer de darkies as well. And our barns +carried feed fer de cattle from harvest to harvest.</p> + +<p>"De fattest of all de hosses, was Miss Ann's black saddle +hoss called, 'Beauty'. Miss Ann wo' de longest side-saddle dress +dat hung way down below her feets. Somebody allus had to help +her on and off Beauty, but n'ary one of her brothers could out-ride +Miss Ann."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Phillip Rice (75), Kelton, S.C. RFD<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewed by: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (5/7/37)</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>Stiles M. Scruggs</b><br /> +<b>Columbia, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><span class="under"><a name="in9" id="in9"></a>THE POT OF GOLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Martha Richardson, who tells this story, lives at 924 Senate Street,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +Columbia, S.C. Her father was an Indian and her mother a mulatto. She was +born in Columbia in 1860 and was five years old, when General W.T. Sherman's +Federal troops captured and burned the city in 1865.</p> + +<p>"When I gits big 'nough to pick up chips for de cook stove, we was livin' +in de rear of Daniel Gardner's home, on Main Street, and my mammy was workin' +as one of de cooks at de Columbia Hotel. De hotel was run by Master Lowrance, +where de Lorick & Lowrance store is now.</p> + +<p>"My daddy, like de general run of Indians, love to hunt but de game not +bring much cash in. My mammy often give him some change (money) and he not +work much but he always good to mammy and she love him and not fuss at him, +much. I soon learn dat if it had not been for mammy, we wouldn't a had much +to eat and wear. We go 'long lak dat for a good while and my mammy have friends +'nough dat she seldom had to ask for a job.</p> + +<p>"De game was so scarce dat my daddy sometimes make a little money a showin' +people how to make Indian medicine, dat was good for many complaints, how +to cover deir houses, and how to kill deir hogs, 'cordin' to de moon. He tell +us many times 'bout de great Catawba Indians, who make all deir own medicines +and kill bears and dress in deir skins, after feastin' on deir flesh. He was +a good talker.</p> + +<p>"You know, I sees so much 'skimpin', to make ends meet at home, as we go +'long dis way, dat I has never married. My mammy tell me: 'Honey, you a pretty +child. You grow up and marry a fine, lovin' man lak your daddy, and be happy.' +I kinda smile but I thinks a lot. If my daddy had worked and saved lak my mammy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +we would be 'way head of what we is, and my brudders say so, too. But we fond +of our daddy, he so good lookin' and all.</p> + +<p>"What de most 'citin' thing I ever see? Well, I think de Red Shirt campaign +was. You never see so much talkin', fightin', and fussin' as dat. You +know de Yankees was still here and they not 'fraid, and de Hampton folks was not +'fraid, so it was a case of knock down and drag out most of de time, it seem to +me. Long at de end, dere was two governors; one was in de Wallace House and one +in de Capitol. Men went 'bout town wid deir guns.</p> + +<p>"Mammy keep busy cookin', nussin', and washin', and us chillun help. You +know I had two brudders older than me and a little baby brudder 'bout a year old, +when my mammy rent a small farm from Master Greenfield, down at de end of Calhoun +Street, near de Broad River. We plant cotton. I was then eleven years old and +my brudder was twelve and thirteen. My mammy help us plant it befo' she go to +work at de hotel.</p> + +<p>"She was home washin', one day, when my brudders and me was choppin' cotton. +We chop 'til 'bout eleven o'clock dat mornin' and we say: 'When we gits out de +rows to de big oak tree we'll sit down and rest.' We chillun lak each other and +we joke and work fast 'til we comes to de end of de rows and in de shade of de +big oak. Then we sets down, dat is, my oldest brudder and me, 'cause my young +brudder was a little behind us in his choppin'. As he near de finish, his hoe +hit somethin' hard and it ring. Ha rake de dirt 'way and keep diggin', light +lak.</p> + +<p>"What you doin', brudder?' I say. He say: 'Tryin' to find out what +dis is. It seem to be a pot lid.' Then we jump up and go to him and all of +us grabble dirt 'way and sho' 'nough it was a pot lid and it was on a pot. We +digs it out, thinkin' it would be a good thing to take home. It was so heavy, +it take us all to lift it out.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was no sooner out than we takes off de lid and we is sho' s'prised +at what we see. Big silver dollars lay all over de top. We takes two of them +and drops them together and they ring just lak we hear them ring on de counters. +Then we grabble in de pot for more. De silver went down 'bout two inches deep. +Twenty dollar gold pieces run down 'bout four inches or so and de whole bottom +was full of big bundles of twenty dollar greenbacks.</p> + +<p>"We walks up to de house feelin' pretty big and my oldest brudder was singin':</p> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"> +'Hawk and buzzard went to law,<br /> +Hawk come back wid a broken jaw.' +</div></div> + +<p>"Mammy say widout lookin' at us: 'What you all comin' to dinner so soon +for?' Then she looked up and see de pot and say: 'Land sakes, what you all +got?' Then we puts de big pot down in de middle of de floor and takes off de +lid, and mammy say: 'Oh! Let's see what we has!' She begin to empty de pot +and to count de money. She tell us to watch de door and see dat nobody got +in, 'cause she not at home!</p> + +<p>"She say de money 'mount to $5,700, and she swear us not to say nothin' +'bout findin' it. She would see what she could find out 'bout it. Weeks after +dat, she tell us a big white friend tell her he hear a friend of his buried +some money and went to war widout tellin' anybody where it was. Maybe he was +killed and dat all we ever hear.</p> + +<p>"My mammy kept it and we all work on just de same and she buy these two +lots on Senate Street. She build de two-story house here at 924, where you +sittin' now, and de cottage nex' door. She always had rent money comin' in +ever since. By and by she die, after my Indian pappy go 'way and never come +back. Then all de chillun die, 'ceptin' me.</p> + +<p>"I am so happy dat I is able to spend my old days in a sort of ease,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +after strugglin' most of my young life and gittin' no learnin' at school, dat +I sometimes sing my mammy's old song, runnin' somethin' lak dis:</p> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"> +'Possum up de simmon tree<br /> +Sparrow on de ground<br /> +'Possum throw de 'simmons down<br /> +Sparrow shake them 'round'."</div></div> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project#-1655</b><br /> +<b>Phoebe Faucette</b><br /> +<b>Hampton County</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Approx. 416 words</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in10" id="in10"></a>MAMIE RILEY<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave</h3> + + +<p>"Aunt Mamie's" hair is entirely white. She lives in a neat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +duplex brick house with one of her husband's relatives, a +younger woman who is a cook for a well established family in +Estill, S.C. When questioned about the times before the war, +she replied:</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I kin tell you 'bout slav'ry time, 'cause I is one +myself. I don' remember how old I is. But I remember when de +Yankees come through I bin 'bout so high. (She put her hand +out about 3½ feet from the floor.) We lived on Mr. Henry Solomons' +place—a big place. Mr. Henry Solomons had a plenty +of people—three rows of house, or four.</p> + +<p>"When de Yankees come through Mr. Solomons' place I wuz +right dere. We wuz at our house in de street. I see it all. +My ma tell me to run; but I ain't think they'd hurt me. I see +'em come down de street—all of 'em on horses. Oo—h, dey +wuz a heap of 'em! I couldn't count 'em. My daddy run to de +woods—he an' de other men. Dey ran right to de graveyard. +Too mucha bush been dere. You couldn't see 'em. Stay in de +woods three days.</p> + +<p>"Dey went to my daddy's house an' take all. My daddy ran. +My mother an' my older sister wuz dere. My ma grab a quilt +off de bed an' cover herself all over wid it—head an' all. +And set in a chair dere by de fire. She tell us to git in de +bed—but I ain't git in. And she yell out when she hear 'em<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +comin': 'Dere's de fever in heah!' Six of 'em come to de +door; but dey say dey ain't goin' in—dey'll catch de +fever. Den some more come along. Dey say dey gwine in. +Dey ain't gwine to take no fever. Fill two sack of 'tatoes. +White man ask to search all trunk. Dey take two of me Ma's +good dresses out. Say to wrap 'tatoes in. I start to +cryin' den, an' dey say, 'Well, git us some sacks den.' I +knowed where some sacks wuz. I git 'em de sacks. Dey do +'em right. Dey bid 'em goodbye, an' ax 'em where de man +wuz. Dey give me 'leven or twelve dollars. I wuz little +an' ain't know. My mother never give it to me.</p> + +<p>"I stay right on dere after freedom, until after I +married."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">Source: Mamie Riley, Negro about 80 years old, Estill, S.C.</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>May 24, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in11" id="in11"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I was born near Broad River in de Dutch Fork of Newberry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +County. I was a slave of Cage Suber. He was a fair master, but +nothing to brag about. I was small at slavery time and had to +work in de white folks' house or around the house until I was +big enough to go to de field and work.</p> + +<p>"Old Marse Cage always made me fan flies off of him when +he lay down to take a nap. The fan was made out of brushes.</p> + +<p>"De white folks had cotton-pickings, corn-shuckings and +quiltings. Dey allus had something to eat at the frolics and +I had to help wid 'em.</p> + +<p>"I married John Riser. I moved to town several years ago."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Susie Riser (80), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C., May 17, 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>Henry Grant,</b><br /> +<b>Columbia, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">ISOM ROBERTS<br /><br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in12" id="in12"></a>EX-SLAVE 80 YEARS OLD</span></h3> + + +<p>Isom Roberts rents one room at 1226 Waverly Street, Columbia, S.C.,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +and lives alone. However frail he appears, he is able to support himself +by working in the yards about the city.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, white folks, I is eighty years old, or leastwise I is so +close to it, dat it don't make much difference. But even if I is dat old, +it don't seem so long since I was a little boy. Years flies by mighty fas' +to old folks, 'cause deir 'memberance is shorter, while young folks 'members +everything, and in dat way months and years drags 'long slower to them.</p> + +<p>"I was a very small boy when de Civil War was gwine on. It seems like +I knows all 'bout Sherman's army comin' through dis State, a burnin' Columbia +and destroyin' and takin' away everything what folks had. I has heard +so much 'bout slavery and all them times, from my mammy and daddy, dat it +'pears to me dat I 'sperienced it all. I 'spects knowin' 'bout things is +just 'bout as good and true as seein' them. Don't you?</p> + +<p>"My daddy and mammy b'long to Marster Sam Louie, who had a big plantation +over in Calhoun County. He had 'bout fifty or more grown slaves, +'sides many chillun of de slaves. Old marster was a good farmer; raised +big crops and saved what he made. He sho' was a fine business man but he +was mighty hard on everybody he had anything to do wid. He told his slaves +to work hard and make him a heap of money and that he would keep it, in +case of hard times. Times was all de time hard wid old marster but de niggers +never got no money. When news spread 'round dat de Yankees was comin' +to free de niggers, he called all de slaves up in de yard and showed them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +a big sack of money, what they had made for him, and told them dat he was +gwine to kill all of them befo' de Yankees set them free and that they +wouldn't need no money after they was done dead. All de slaves was mighty +sad and troubled, all dat day, when old marster made dat speech to them. But +somethin' happened. It most makes me tremble to talk to you 'bout it now. +Providence, or some kind of mercy spirit, was sho' walkin' 'round dat plantation +dat night. Sometime in de night it was whispered 'round amongst de slaves +dat old marster done took de smallpoxes and was mighty sick. Mammy said he +must have been terrible sick, 'cause they buried him two days after dat.</p> + +<p>"After old marster flew away, everything was different on de plantation. +Miss Nancy, dat was old marster's wife, told de slaves dat when de Yankees +freed them, they could stay right there and work on shares or by the day, which +ever way they wanted. Many stayed on de plantation after freedom while others +went away. Me and my folks stayed on wid Miss Nancy until she die. Then us +moved on another plantation in de lower side of de county. I stayed dere until +my wife died, seventeen years ago.</p> + +<p>"Does I 'member anything 'bout how de slaves was treated in slavery +time? Well, I 'members a little myself and a heap of what others told me. Wid +dis I has done told you, I believes I want to stop right dere. A low fence is +easier to git over than a high one. Say little and you ain't gwine to have a +heap to 'splain hereafter. Dere is a plenty of persons dat has lost deir heads +by not lettin' deir tongues rest. Marster Sam Louie is dead now. He can't disturb +nobody in his grave. He had his faults and done many things wrong but +show me dat person what don't mis-step sometimes. All of us, both white and +black, is prone to step aside now and then. To tell de truth, old marster never +knowed what Sunday was. Everybody on de plantation worked on dat day as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +same as any other day.</p> + +<p>"But Boss, if my old marster was rough and hard and break de Sabbath +and all dat, he was no worser than what young white folks and niggers is +dese days. You can see them any time, floppin' 'bout in dese automobiles, +a drinkin' and a carryin' on. Sich stuff is abomination in de sight of a +decent person, much less dat One up yonder. (He pointed upward).</p> + +<p>"I's gwine to tell you boss, dat slavery time was better for de average +nigger than what they is gittin' now. Folks say dat slavery was wrong +and I 'spose it was, but to be poor like a heap of niggers is now, is de +worse thing dat has ever come upon them, I thinks. Dis gittin' something +wrong, ain't right. De North had no business sellin' niggers to de South +and de South had no business buyin' them from de North and makin' slaves +of them. Everything went on pretty nice for awhile, then de North got jealous +of de South and de South got 'spicious of de North. I believes dat if +you can't go over and you can't go under, then you should try to go 'round. +If de big men up North and here in de South had been good 'nough and smart +'nough, they might could a gone 'round dat terrible Civil War. I believes +dat.</p> + +<p>"I marry Lucy Nelson when I was 'bout thirty years old. She was a +bright skin nigger, much brighter than I is. She was high tempered and high +spirited, too. She was sho' smart, and de best cook I has ever seen. Just +plain corn bread, dat she cooked in de hot ashes of de fireplace, taste +sweeter and better than de cake you buy now. But de least thing would git +her temper 'roused. I has knowed her to complain wid de old hound dog us had, +'cause he didn't run some rabbits out de woods for me to shoot. Fuss wid de +cats, 'cause they didn't ketch de mouses in de house. Quarrel wid de hens,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +'cause they eat, cackled, scratched and wallowed holes in de yard and wouldn't +lay. Told de old rooster many times dat she was gwine to chop his head off +if he didn't crow sooner and louder of mornin's and wake me up so I could +go to work. All dis sounds foolish I knows but you see how bent my back is. +Well, I 'spects it was bent from totin' so many buckets of water from de +spring for her to wash wid soon of mornin's, so I could then do a day's +work.</p> + +<p>"My wife thought she was doin' right by workin' like she did. She +thought dat she was helpin' me make a livin' for our big family of eight +chillun. Yes sir, I knows now she was right, but hard work broke her health +and brought her to her bed where she lingered 'bout one year and then she +went away from me. All dis took place seventeen years ago and, from then to +dis, I ain't seen no woman I would have for a wife, 'cause I ain't gwine to +find no woman Lucy's equal. All my chillun are dead, 'cept two, and I don't +know where they is.</p> + +<p>"Does poor folks have any blessings and pleasure? Well, yes sir, in a +way. You see they don't have no worriments over what they has, like rich +folks. They can sleep as hot as they want to in de summer time and raise as +big families as anybody. Sho', poor folks, and especially niggers, has a +good time on hog-killin' days. In early summer come them juicy brierberries +dat they enjoy so much. They last until watermelon season. Then they has +'possum and 'tators in de fall. Most all livin' beings has deir own way of +doin' things and deir way of existin'. De hog roots for his, de squirrel +climbs for his, de chickens scratches for deirs, and de nigger, well, if +dere ain't nobody lookin', I reckon they could slip deirs right handy.</p> + +<p>"I sho' has enjoyed talkin' to you dis evening and now, if you will +'scuse me, I's gwine home and cook me a pot of turnips. I can almost taste<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +them now, I is so hungry."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">ALEXANDER ROBERTSON<br /><br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in13" id="in13"></a>EX-SLAVE 84 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Alexander Robertson lives as a member of the household of his son,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +Charley, on the General Bratton plantation, four miles southeast of White +Oak, S.C. It is a box-like house, chimney in the center, four rooms, a +porch in front and morning glory vines, in bloom at this season, climbing +around the sides and supports. Does Alexander sit here in the autumn sunshine +and while the hours away? Nay, in fact he is still one of the active, +working members of the family, ever in the fields with his grandchildren, poke +around his neck, extracting fleecy cotton from the bolls and putting it deftly +into the poke. He can carry his row equally as well as any of the six grandchildren. +He has a good appetite at meal time, digestive organs good, sleeps +well, and is the early riser in the mornings. He says the Negro half of his +nature objects to working on Saturday afternoon, and at such times his tall +figure, with a green patch cloth over the left eye, which is sightless, may +be seen strolling to and fro on the streets of Winnsboro.</p> + +<p>"Well, well! If it ain't de youngun dat use to sell me sugar, coffee, +fat back and meal, when he clerk for Calvin Brice & Company, at Woodward, in +'84 and 'long dere.</p> + +<p>"I hopes you is well dis mornin'. I's told to come to Winnsboro and +gits blanks for a pension. Andy Foster, man I knows, d'rect me up dese steps +and bless God I finds you. You wanna ask me some questions? Well, here I is, +more than glad to answer, if I can. Where I born? Strange as it seems, I born +right here in Winnsboro. My name set down in a book: 'Alexander-boy-mother, +Hannah, wench of James Stewart'. Dat de way it was read to me by Dr. Beaty, dat +marry a Miss Cherry and live in Rock Hill. If slavery had never been done 'way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +wid, dat would be my master today, 'cause him lak hound dogs and I lak a +hound dog. Dat kind of breed got a good nose and make good 'possum dog. +Marster Jim tell me one time, dat de first dog sprung from a wolf, and dat +fust dog was a hound dog. Dat out dat fust dog, (must to a been a bitch, +don't you reckon?) come all dogs. I follow his talk wid belief, 'bout de +setters, pointers, and blood hounds, even to de fices, but it strain dat +belief when it git to de little useless hairy pup de ladies lead 'round +wid a silver collar and a shiney chain. Well, you don't care to hear anymore +'bout dat? What is de question?</p> + +<p>"My master at de fust, was Marster Jim Stewart and my mistress was +his wife, Mistress Clara. They have two chillun. I 'member Marster Jim and +Miss Lizzie; they live in a fine house befo' de war, 'round yonder close to +Mt. Zion College. My mother was de cook and I was de house boy. They had a +big plantation 'bout two miles out, sorta southwest of Boro, I mean Winnsboro, +of course, but de country people still call it Boro.</p> + +<p>"On dat plantation was many two-room houses, brick chimneys in de +middle, for de plantation slaves. In de growin' season I go wid marster +every day, not to drive, too small for dat, just to hold de hoss, when him +git out and then I run errands for him, 'round de house and in de fields.</p> + +<p>"My mother had another child, Willie Finch. A colored man name of +Finch is his father but her and de white folks never tell me who my father +was. I have to find out dat for myself, after freedom, when I was lookin' +'round for a name. From all I hear and 'pear in de lookin' glass, I see I +was half white for sure, and from de things I hear, I conclude I was a Robertson +which have never been denied. Maybe it best just to give no front +names. Though half a nigger, I have tried to live up to dat name, never took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +it in dat court house over yonder, never took it in dat jail or dat calaboose. +I's paid my debts dollar for dollar and owe no man nothin' but good +will.</p> + +<p>"What de Yankees do when they come? Let other people tell dat, but +seem lak they lay de whole town in ashes, 'cept de college and our house close +to it, dat they use for de officers while they was in Boro. Why they hear +sumpin' bout de Davis name techin' de St. John 'Piscopal Church and they march +'round dere, one cold February Sunday mornin', set it afire, and burn it up. +Mother and me went to de plantation and stayed dere 'til they left.</p> + +<p>"When freedom come, I was twelve years old. Mother marry a Finch; +Bill was de name of him. Our nex' move was to Dr. Madden's place, just north +of Boro. Us farm up dere and I do de hoein'. I live dere thirteen years. I +got to feelin' my oats and tired of workin' for a plum black nigger, I did. +Maybe I ought to been more humble but I wasn't.</p> + +<p>"I ask myself one night: 'What you gonna do, stay here forever +for your vittles and clothes?' Then come over my mind I old 'nough for to +marry. Who I gwine to marry? It pop right in dis head, Sarah was de gal for +me. I rode old Beck down dere de nex' Sunday; dat was in December. I come +right to de point wid her and de old folks. They 'low they have no objections +if I could take care of her. I say I try to. They say: 'Dat ain't 'nough, +'range yourself for another year and then come and git her'.</p> + +<p>"De Lord directs me. I's down here payin' my poll, too. Marster Tom +Shanty Brice come in as us come out. I ask him if he need a hand for nex' year. +He look me up from top to bottom and say: 'What's your name?' I show him my +tax receipt. He hire me than and dere. I go right straight to Sarah and us +tell de old folks. Rev. Gordon marry us de 29th of January, 1879. Us has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +seven chillun. Alex, dat's de one name for me, is in Tampa, Florida. +Carrie marry a Coleman and is in Charlotte, N.C. Jimmie is dead. Thomas +is in Charleston, S.C. Emma marry a Belton and lives wid her husband in +Ridgeway, S.C. I stay wid my son, Charley, up de country.</p> + +<p>"I voted one time in 1876, for Gov. Chamberlain, but when I moved +to Marster Tom Brice's I thought so much of him, I just quit voting. I +would lak to vote one more time to say: 'I have vote one time wid de black +part of my nature, dis time I votes wid de white side of my nature.' What +you laughin' 'bout? If it was de call of dark blood de fust time, maybe it's +de call of de white blood dis time. You have no idea de worry and de pain a +mulatto have to carry all his eighty-four years. Forced to 'sociate wid one +side, proud to be related to de other side. Neither side lak de color of +your skin. I jine de Methodist church here in Boro and 'tend often as I can +and as I hear my preacher Owens preach, dat dere will be no sex in hebben, I +hopes and prays dat dere'll be no sich thing as a color line in hebben.</p> + +<p>"Who de best white men I ever know? Mr. Tom Brice, Mr. W.L. Rosborough, +Mr. Watt Sinonton, and Mr. August Nicholson. Master Bill Beaty, dat +marry my young mistress, Elizabeth, was a fine man.</p> + +<p>"What I think of Abe Lincoln? What I think of Mr. Roosevelt? Dere +de color come up again. De black say Mr. Lincoln de best President us ever +have; de white say us never have had and never will have a President equal of +Mr. Roosevelt."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">CHARLIE ROBINSON<br /><br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in14" id="in14"></a>EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Charlie Robinson lives nine miles northwest of Winnsboro, S.C., on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +lands of Mr. R.W. Lemmon. There is one other occupant in the four-room +house, John Giles, a share cropper. The house has two fireplaces, the +brick chimney being constructed in the center of the two main rooms. The +other two rooms are shed rooms. Charlie ekes out a living as a day laborer +on the farm.</p> + +<p>"They been tellin' me to come to de social circle and see 'bout my pension +but I never is got dere. It been so hot, I hate to hotfoot it nine miles +to Winnsboro and huff dat same distance back on a hot summer day.</p> + +<p>"Glad you come out here but sorry of de day, 'cause it is a Friday and +all de jay-birds go to see de devil dat day of de week. It's a bad day to begin +a garment, or quilt or start de lye hopper or 'simmon beer keg or just anything +important to yourself on dat day. Dere is just one good Friday in de +year and de others is given over to de devil, his imps, and de jay-birds. Does +I believe all dat? I believes it 'nough not to patch dese old breeches 'til +tomorrow and not start my 'simmon beer, when de frost fall on them dis fall, +on a Friday.</p> + +<p>"You wants me to set down so you can ask me sumpin'? I'll do dat! Of +course I will! (He proceeded to do so—wiping his nose on his sleeve and +sprawling down on the doorsill). My pappy name George, black George they call +him in slavery time, 'cause dere was a small yallow slave on de place, named +George. My mammy name Ca'line. My pappy b'long to de McNeals and my mammy +b'long to Marse Joe Beard. His wife was my mistress. Her name Miss Gracie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +'Nitials? Dat sumpin' not in my lingo, Boss. You want to know what my pappy's +old marster name? Seem to me they call him Marse Gene, though it been so long +I done forgot. When my marster went to de war him got a ball through his leg. +Bad treatment of dat leg give him a limp for de balance of his days. White +folks call him 'Hoppin' Joe Beard' and sometime 'Lopin' Joe'.</p> + +<p>"Marster and mistress have two chillun. I play marbles wid them and make +mud pies. Deir names was Marse Willie and Miss Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"My brudders and sisters was Jeff, Roland, Jane and Fannie. All dead +'cept Fannie. Her marry a big, long nigger name Saul Griffin. Last I heard of +them, they was livin' in Columbia, S.C.</p> + +<p>"I start workin' in de field de second year of de war, 1862. It sho' made +me hungry. I 'members now, how I'd git a big tin cupful of pot liquor from de +greens, crumble corn bread in it at dinner time and 'joy it as de bestest part +of de dinner. Us no suffer for sumpin' to eat. I go all summer in my shirt-tail +and in de winter I have to do de best I can, widout any shoes. Ever since then, +I just lak to go barefooted as you sees me now.</p> + +<p>"My pappy git a pass and come to see mammy every Saturday night. My marster +had just four slave houses on de place. 'Spect him have 'bout eight women, +dat men come from other places to see and marry them and have chillun. I doesn't +'member nary one of de women havin' a husband livin' wid her every night.</p> + +<p>"Who do de plowin'? Women and boys do de plowin'. Had good 'nough houses, +though they was made of logs, 'cup and saddled' at both ends, and covered wid +white oak board shingles. Had stick and mud chimneys.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees made a clean sweep of everything, hosses, mules, cows, hogs, +meat and 'lasses. Got so mad when they couldn't find any salt, they burn up +everything. Pull Marse Joe's beard, just 'cause him name Beard. De one dat do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +dat was just a smart aleck and de cap'n of de crowd shame him and make him +slink 'way, out de house.</p> + +<p>"When freedom come, Marse Joe stay one year, then leave. Sell out and +move to Walhalla and us move to pappy on de McNeal place. Dat year us all +jined de church, Union Church. I now b'longs to New Hope Methodist Church. +Us nex' move to Mr. Bill Crawford's place. Mr. Crawford got to be school +commissioner on de 'publican ticket and white folks call him scalawag. Him +have pappy and all de colored folks go to de 'lection box and vote. Ku Klux +come dere one night and whip every nigger man they could lay deir hands on. +Things quiet down then but us no more go to de 'lection box and vote.</p> + +<p>"'Bout dis time thoughts of de gals got in my head and feets at de same +time. I was buyin' a biled shirt and celluloid collar, in Mr. Sailing Wolf's +store, one Saturday, and in walked Ceily Johnson. I commence to court her right +then and dere, befo' I ever git inside dat shirt and collar. Her have dark skin +and was good to look at, I tell you. I de-sash-shay 'bout dat gal, lak a chicken +rooster spread his wing 'round a pretty black pullet, 'til I wear out her indifference +and her make me happy by marryin' me. Her was too good lookin' and +too bad doin', though, for me. She left by de light of de moon when us was livin' +on de Cummings place, 'bove town. Excuse me now, dat's still a fresh subject of +torment to me. Let's talk 'bout chances of gittin' dat pension, when I can git +another clean white shirt, lay 'round de white folks again, and git dis belly +full of pot liquor."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon.</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">AL ROSBORO<br /><br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in15" id="in15"></a>EX-SLAVE 90 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Al Rosboro, with his second wife, Julia, a daughter, and six small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +grandchildren, lives in a three-room frame house, three hundred yards east of +the Southern Railway track and US #21, about two miles south of Woodward, S.C., +in Fairfield County. Mr. Brice gives the plot of ground, four acres with the +house, to Al, rent free. A white man, Mr. W.L. Harvey does the ploughing of +the patches for him. Al has cataracts on his eyes and can do no work. Since +this story was written he has received his first old age pension check of +eight dollars from the Social Welfare Board in Columbia, S.C.</p> + +<p>"Does I know what a nonagenarian is? No seh, what dat? Old folks? +Well, dats a mighty long name and I been here a mighty long time. Glad you +say it's a honor and a privilege by de mercy of de Lord. I's thankful! You +wants to know where I was born and who my white folks then?</p> + +<p>"I was born just one and a half mile b'low White Oak, S.C., on de +old Marse Billie Brice place. My pappy b'long to old Miss Jennie Rosboro, but +mammy b'long to Marse William Brice. Her name Ann. My old mistress name Mary, +daughter of de Simontons, on Dumpers Creek.</p> + +<p>"You wants de fust thing I 'members, then travel 'long de years 'til +I come to settin' right here in dis chair. Well, reckon us git through today? +Take a powerful sight of dat pencil to put it all down.</p> + +<p>"Let me see. Fust thing I 'members well, was a big crowd wid picks +and shovels, a buildin' de railroad track right out de other side of de big +road in front of old marster's house. De same railroad dat is dere today. When +de fust engine come through, puffin' and tootin', lak to scare 'most everybody to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +death. People got use to it but de mules and bosses of old marster seem +lak they never did. A train of cars a movin' 'long is still de grandest +sight to my eyes in de world. Excite me more now than greyhound busses, +or airplanes in de sky ever do.</p> + +<p>"I nex' 'members my young misses and young marsters. Dere was +Marse John; he was kilt in de war. Marse Jim, dat went to de war, come back, +marry, and live right here in Winnsboro. Marse Jim got a grandson dat am in +de army a sailin' air-ships. Then dere was Marse William; he moved off. One +of de gals marry a Robertson, I can't 'member her name, tho' I help her to +make mud pies many a day and put them on de chicken coop, in de sun, to dry. +Her had two dolls; deir names was Dorcas and Priscilla. When de pies got +dry, she'd take them under de big oak tree, fetch out de dolls and talk a +whole lot of child mother talk 'bout de pies, to de Dorcas and Priscilla rag +dolls. It was big fun for her tho' and I can hear her laugh right now lak +she did when she mince 'round over them dolls and pies. Dere was some poor +folks livin' close by and she'd send me over to 'vite deir chillun over to +play wid her. They was name Marshall. Say they come from Virginny and was +kin to de highest judge in de land. They was poor but they was proud. Mistress +felt sorry for them but they wouldn't 'cept any help from her.</p> + +<p>"Well, when I git twelve years old, marster give me to his son, +Marse Calvin, and give Marse Calvin a plantation dat his son, Homer, live on +now. I 'member now old marster's overseer comin' to de field; his name was +McElduff. Him say: 'Al, Marse William say come to de house'. I goes dere +on de run. When I git dere, him 'low: 'Calvin, I wants you to take Al, I +give him to you. Al, you take good care of your young marster'. I always +did and if Marse Calvin was livin' he'd tell you de same.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I forgit to tell you one thing dat happen down dere befo' I +left. Dere was a powerful rich family down dere name Cockrell; I forgits +de fust name. Him brudder tho', was sheriff and live in Winnsboro. Dere +was a rich Mobley family dat live jinin' him, two miles sunrise side of +him. One day de Cockrell cows got out and played thunder wid Mr. Mobley's +corn. Mr. Mobley kilt two of de cows. Dat made de Cockrells mad. They +too proud to go to law 'bout it; they just bide deir time. One day Marse +Ed Mobley's mules got out, come gallopin' 'round and stop in de Cockrell +wheat field. Him take his rifle and kill two of them mules. Dat made Mr. +Mobley mad but him too proud to go to law 'bout it. De Mobley's just bide +deir time. 'Lection come 'round for sheriff nex' summer. No Cockrell was +'lected sheriff dat time. You ask Mr. Hugh Wylie 'bout dat nex' time him +come to de Boro. Him tell you all 'bout it.</p> + +<p>"Dat call to my mind another big man, dat live 'bove White Oak then, +Marse Gregg Cameron. He was powerful rich, wid many slaves. Him lak to bar-room +and drink. Him come by marster's house one day, fell off his hoss and de +hoss gallop on up de road. Dat was de fust drunk man I ever see. Marster +didn't know what to do; him come into de house and ask Mistress Mary. Him tell +her him didn't want to scandal de chillun. She say: 'What would de good Samaritan +do?' Old marster go back, fetch dat groanin', cussin', old man and put +him to bed, bathe his head, make Sam, de driver, hitch up de buggy, make West +go wid him, and take Marse Gregg home. I never see or hear tell of dat white +man anymore, 'til one day after freedom when I come down here to Robinson's +Circus. Him drop dead dat day at de parade, when de steam piano come 'long +a tootin'. 'Spect de 'citement, steam, and tootin', was too much for him.</p> + +<p>"Niggers never learn to read and write. It was 'ginst de law. White +folks fear they would write deir passes and git 'way to de free states.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Us slaves 'tend Concord Church, tho' Marse Calvin jine de Seceders +and 'tend New Hope. Why us go to Concord? 'Cause it too far to walk to New +Hope and not too far to walk to Concord. Us have not 'nough mules for all to +ride, and then de mules need a rest. I now b'longs to Bethany Presbyterian +Church at White Oak. Yes sah, I thinks everybody ought to jine de church for +it's de railroad train to git to hebben on.</p> + +<p>"Marse Calvin went to de war. Him got shot thru de hand. Yankees +come and burn up everything him have. Wheeler's men just as bad.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I got mannish. Wid not a drop of blood in me but de +pure African, I sets out to find a mate of de pure breed. 'Bout de onliest +place I could find one of dis hatchin', was de Gaillard quarter. I marry +Gabrielle. Live fust years at de Walt Brice McCullough place, then move to +de Vinson place, then to de preacher Erwin place. Dat was a fine preacher, +him pastor for Concord. Him lak to swap hosses. When him come down out de +pulpit him looks 'round, see a hoss him lak, soon as not him go home to dinner +wid de owner of dat hoss. After dinner him say: 'If it wasn't de Sabbath, +how would you trade dat hoss for my hoss?' More words pass between them, just +supposin' all de time it was Monday. Then Mr. Erwin ride back dere nex' day +and come back wid de hoss him took a fancy for.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Erwin move when he git a call to Texas. I moves to de Bob +Sinonton place. From dere I goes to de Jim Brice place, now owned by young +Marse James Brice. I been dere 32 years. Gabrielle and me generate thirteen +chillun, full blooded natural born Africans, seven boys and six gals. Then +Gabrielle die and I marry Julia Jenkins. Us have five chillun, one boy and +four gals. I's done a heap for my country. I wants Mr. Roosevelt to hear +'bout dat; then maybe him make de country do sumpin' for me."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">TOM ROSBORO<br /><br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in16" id="in16"></a>EX-SLAVE 79 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Tom Rosboro lives with his daughter, Estelle Perry, in a three-room frame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +house, on Cemetery Street, Winnsboro, S.C. The house stands on a half-acre +plot that is used for garden truck. Estelle owns the fee in the house and lot. +Tom peddles the truck, eggs, and chickens, in the town and the suburban Winnsboro +mill village.</p> + +<p>"My pappy was name Tom, just lak I is name Tom. My mammy was name Sarah +but they didn't b'long to de same marster. Pappy b'long to old Marse Eugene +McNaul. Mammy b'long to old Marse John Propst. De ownership of de child followed +de mammy in them days. Dat throwed me to be a slave of old Marse John +Propst.</p> + +<p>"My young marsters was name Marse Johnnie, Marse Clark, Marse Floyd, and +Marse Wyatt. I had two young misses. Miss Elizabeth marry a McElroy and Miss +Mamie marry a Landecker. You know Marse Ernest Propst dat run dat ladies' garment +store and is a member of de Winnsboro Town Council? Yes? Well, dat is one +of Marse Floyd Propst chillun.</p> + +<p>"I hear mammy say dat daddy's mistress was name Miss Emma but her mistress +and my mistress was name Miss Margaret. My daddy have to have a pass every time +he come to see mammy. Sometime they give him a general pass for de year. Sometime +him lose de pass and then such a gwine on you never did see de lak. Make +more miration (hullabaloo) over it than if they had lost one of de chillun. They +was scared de patarollers (patrollers) would come ketch him, and lay de leather +whip on his naked back. He wouldn't dare stay long. Him would go back soon, not +on de big road but through de woods and fields, so as not to meet de patarollers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who was my brothers and sisters and where is they? Brother Ben and Sister +Mamie is dead and in glory. Dat's all de chillun mammy had a chance to have, +'cause she was a good woman and would never pay any 'tention to de men slaves on +de Propst place. Her was faithful to pappy through thick and thin, whichever it +be.</p> + +<p>"I doesn't 'member much 'bout de Yankees, though I does 'members de Ku +Klux. They visit pappy's house after freedom, shake him, and threaten dat, if +him didn't quit listenin' to them low-down white trash scalawags and carpetbaggers, +they would come back and whale de devil out of him, and dat de Klan would +take notice of him on 'lection day.</p> + +<p>"When I was 'bout seventeen years old, I come to de Boro (Winnsboro) one +Saturday evenin' and seen a tall willowy gal, black she was but shiny, puttin' +them foots of her'n down on de pavement in a pretty gamecock pullet kind of way, +as if to say: 'Roosters look at me.' I goes over to Mr. Landecker's store, de +Mr. Landecker dat marry Miss Mamie Propst, and I begs him to give me a cigar. I +lights dat cigar and puts out after her. I ketches up wid her just as she was +comin' out of Mr. Sailing Wolfe's Jew store. I brush up 'ginst her and say: +'Excuse me lady.' Her say: 'I grants your pardon, Mister. I 'spects smoke got +in your eyes and you didn't see me.' I say: 'Well, de smoke is out of my eyes +now and they will never have sight for any other gal but you as long as I live.' +Black as she was, her got red in de face and say: 'Who is you?' I say: 'Tom +Rosboro. What might be your name, lovely gal?' Her say: 'My name is Mattie +Nelson.' I say: 'Please to meet you, Sugar Plum.' Her say: 'I live down at +Simpson's Turnout. Glad to have you come down to see me sometime.' After dat +us kep' a meetin' in Winnsboro, every Saturday, 'til one day us went 'round to +Judge Jno. J. Neils' law office and him married us. Me and Mat have our trials<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +and tribulations and has went up and down de hills in all kind of weather. +Us never ceased to bless dat day dat I run into her at Mr. Sailing Wolfe's +store.</p> + +<p>"How come I name Rosboro? I just picked it up as a mighty pretty name. +Sound better than Propst or McNaul and de Rosboro white folks was big buckra +in dat time.</p> + +<p>"Us had lots of chillun; raise some and lost some. I have a son, Charlie, +dat's a barber in Washington, D.C. Lucy, a daughter, marry Tank Hill. Nan +marry Banks Smith. Estelle marry Jim Perry but her is a widow now. Her bought +a house and lot wid de insurance money from Dr. McCants. She has a nice house +on Cemetery Street, wid water and 'lectric lights. Her got four chillun. When +my wife die, two years ago, I move in wid Estelle and her four chillun. Her +make money by washin' and ironin' for de white folks. Me and de chillun picks +cotton and 'tends to de makin' and de peddlin' of garden truck and sich lak. +Ah, us is a happy family but I ain't 'bove usin' some of dat old age pension +money, if I can git it."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">INTERVIEW WITH<br /> +REUBEN ROSBOROUGH, RIDGEWAY, S.C.,<br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in17" id="in17"></a>EX-SLAVE—82 YEARS, 3 MONTHS OLD</span></h3> + + +<p>"No sir, I can 'member nothin' 'bout de State of Verginny, where pappy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +said us was born. He told me, when I was 'bout two years old he and mammy +Kitty was took from somewhar in dat state to Richmond, wid de understandin' +to sell us as a family, and to give a man name Johnson, de preference. He +say de trader couldn't find de man Johnson, and sold us to my marster, John +Rosborough. My pappy name William, my brothers, Tom and Willie and my sisters, +Mary and Alice.</p> + +<p>"My marster was a kind and tender man to slaves. You see a man love +hosses and animals? Well, dat's de way he love us, though maybe in bigger +portion, I 'low. Marster John never marry. Set down dere dat he was good +enough to buy my old gran' mammy Mary, though she never could do much work.</p> + +<p>"Us knowed dat our gran'pappy was a white man back in Verginny, but +dat was her secret, dat she kept locked in her breast and carried it wid her +to de grave. You say I's very light color myself? So I is, so was she, so +was pappy. Ease your mind, us had none of de white Rosborough in us. Us come +on one side from de F.F.V's. I's proud of dat, and you can put down dere dat +deres no poor white trash blood in dese old veins, too.</p> + +<p>"De last part of de war I worked some in de field, but not enough to +hurt. My Marster was a Presbyterian, b'longed to Aimwell Church. Two or three +acres in cemetery dere now, but they done move de church into de town of +Ridgeway.</p> + +<p>"Money was not worshipped then like it is now. Not much use of it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +Marster raised all we eat and made all we wear right dere on de place, 'bout +five miles north of Ridgeway.</p> + +<p>"I guess Marster John had forty slaves. Us live in two-story log house +wid plank floor. Marster John die, us 'scend to his brother Robert and his +wife Mistress Mary. I played wid her chillun. Logan was one and Janie the +other. My marster and mistress was good to me. I use to drive de mules to de +cotton gin. All I had to do was to set on de long beam and crack my whip every +now and then, and de mules would go 'round and 'round. Dere was three hundred +and seventy-six acres in dat place. I own part of it today. I b'longs to Good +Hope Church. I sure believes in de Lord, and dat His mercies is from everlastin' +to everlastin' to them dat fears Him.</p> + +<p>"'Member but little 'bout de war for freedom, 'cept dat some of de slaves +of marster was sent to de front to use pick and shovel to throw up breast works, +and things of dat nature. My pappy was de foreman and stayed at home, carry on +whilst Marster Robert go.</p> + +<p>"'Deed I recollects 'bout de Yankees. They come and ask my pappy, de foreman, +where was de mules and hosses hid out? Pappy say he don't know, he didn't +carry them off. They find out a boy dat knowed; make him tell, and they went +and got de mules and hosses. They took everything and left.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Scott was our doctor. Dere was in them days lots of rattlesnakes; +had to be keerful of them. Then us hear lots and had lots of chills and fever. +They found de remedy, but they was way off 'bout what make them come on you. +Some 'low it was de miasma dat de devil bring 'round you from de swamp and +settle 'round your face whilst you sleep, and soon as he git you to snore you +sniffed it to your liver, lights and gall, then dat make bile, and then you +was wid de chills a comin' every other day and de fever all de day. Marster +Doctor Hayne done find out dat de skeeter bring de fever and de chills, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +funny, he 'low dat it is de female skeeter bite dat does de business. You +believe dat? I didn't at first, 'til old Doctor Lindor tell me dat it was +no harder to believe than dat all disease come into de world when a female +bite a apple in de garden of Eden.</p> + +<p>"I think Mr. Lincoln was raised up by de Lord, just like Moses, to +free a 'culiar people. I think Mr. Roosevelt is de Joshua dat come after +him. No president has done as much for de poor of both races as de one now +president. God bless him and 'stain him in his visions and work to bring de +kingdom of heaven into and upon de earth."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #-1655</b><br /> +<b>C.S. Murray</b><br /> +<b>Charleston, S.C.</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Approx. 430 Words.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in18" id="in18"></a>GOING DOWN TO DIE<br /><br /> +(FOLKLORE)<br /><br /> + +STORY TOLD BY EX-SLAVE</h3> + + +<p>Boss Man, you talk about de brave soldier<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +who been in de last big war and +how dey look death in de eye and spit on him. I ain't see dat +war. It been 'cross de water. But I know sump'en 'bout de +Civil War. I been young lad when de big gun shoot and de Yankee +pile down from de north.</p> + +<p>Talk 'bout being brave. De bravest +thing I ever see was one day at Ashepoo junction. Dat was near +de end of de war. Grant was standing up before Richmond; Sherman +was marching tump-tump through Georgia. I was a stripling +lad den and boy-like I got to see and hear everything. One day +more than all, de overseer sent my pappy to Ashepoo junction to +get de mail. I gone 'long wid him. Seem like I jest had to go +dat day.</p> + +<p>I member dat morning well. When I +get to de junction de train start to come in. What a lot of +train! De air fair smoke up wid dem. They come shouting in +from Charleston, bound up-country.</p> + +<p>I stand wid my pappy near de long +trestle, and see de train rock by. One enjine in front pulling +one in de back pushing, pushing, pushing. De train load down +wid soldier. They thick as peas. Been so many a whole ton +been riding on de car roof. They shout and holler. I make big<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +amaze to see such a lot of soldier—all going down to die.</p> + +<p>And they start to sing as they cross de trestle. +One pick a banjo, one play de fiddle. They sing and whoop, +they laugh; they holler to de people on de ground, and sing +out, "Good-bye." All going down to die.</p> + +<p>And it seem to me dat is de most wonderful sight I +ever see. All them soldier, laughing light, singing and +shouting dat way, and all riding fast to battle.</p> + +<p>One soldier man say in a loud voice: "Well, boys we +going to cut de Yankee throat. We on our way to meet him and +he better tremble. Our gun greeze up, and our bayonet sharp. +Boys we going to eat our dinner in hell today."</p> + +<p>I turn to my pappy and ax him how can man act like +dat when they going down to die. He answer me: "Dat ain't +nutting. They n'use to dat. Ain't you know soldier different?"</p> + +<p>But I say: "Pappy, you hear dem talk 'bout eat dinner +in hell?"</p> + +<p>He answer me back: "They been in de army 'long time. +They don't study hell anymore."</p> + +<p>De train still rumble by. One gang of soldier on de +top been playing card. I see um hold up de card as plain as +day, when de luck fall right. They going to face bullet, but +yet they play card, and sing and laugh like they in their own +house ... All going down to die.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>De train pull 'cross de trestle. I stand up and watch +um till he go out of sight 'round de bend. De last thing I +hear is de soldier laugh and sing ... All going down to die.</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">SOURCE: Interview with William Rose, 80, ex-slave of Edisto +Island, S.C., in 1936.</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in19" id="in19"></a>BENJAMIN RUSSELL<br /><br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS.</span></h3> + + +<p>"I was born fourteen miles north of Chester, S.C. the property<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +of Mrs. Rebecca Nance. After eighty-eight years, I have a vivid recollection +of her sympathy and the ideal relations she maintained with her +slaves.</p> + +<p>"My father was just Baker, my mother just Mary. My father was +bought out of a drove of slaves from Virginia. I have been told my mother +was born on the Youngblood place. (Youngblood name of my mistress' +people in York County.) My father was a slave of a Mr. Russell and lived +two or three miles from the Nance place, where mother lived. He could only +visit her on a written pass. As he was religiously inclined, dutiful and +faithful as a slave, my mother encouraged the relation that included a +slave marriage between my father and mother. My mother in time, had a +log house for herself and children. We had beds made by the plantation's +carpenter. As a boy I remember plowing from sun to sun, with an hour's +intermission for dinner, and feeding the horses.</p> + +<p>"Money? Yes, sometimes white folks and visitors would give me +coppers, 3-cent pieces, and once or twice dimes. Used them to buy extra +clothing for Sundays and fire crackers and candy, at Christmas. We had +good food. In the busy seasons on the farm the mistress saw to it that the +slaves were properly fed, the food cooked right and served from the big kitchen. +We were given plenty of milk and sometimes butter. We were permitted to +have a fowl-house for chickens, separate from the white folks. We wore warm +clothes and stout brogan shoes in winter; went barefooted from April until +November and wore cotton clothes in summer. The master and some of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +women slaves spun the thread, wove the cloth and made the clothes. My +mother lived in a two-story farm house. Her children were: William, Mattie +and Thomas. We never had an overseer on the place. Sometimes she'd whip +the colored children, but only when it was needed for correction.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I went with my young master, William, to Chester +Court House, and saw slaves put on a block and auctioned off to the +highest bidder, just like land or mules and cattle. Did we learn to read +and write? We were taught to read, but it was against the law to teach +a slave to write. The Legislature passed an act to that effect. A number +of cases in which slaves could write, the slave would forge a pass and +thereby get away to free territory. They had a time getting them back. +On one occasion I run in on my young master, William, teaching my Uncle +Reuben how to write. They showed their confusion.</p> + +<p>"All slaves were compelled to attend church on Sunday. A +gallery around the interior of the church, contained the blacks. They +were permitted to join in the singing. Favorite preacher? Well, I guess +my favorite preacher was Robert Russell. He was allowed sometimes to use +the white folks school, which wasn't much in those days, just a little +log house to hold forth in winter. In summer he got permission to +have a brush arbor of pine tops, where large numbers came. Here they sang +Negro spirituals. I remember one was called: 'Steal away to Jesus.'</p> + +<p>"Runaway slaves? Yes, we had one woman who was contrary +enough to run away: Addie, she run off in the woods. My mistress hired her +out to the McDonald family. She came back and we had to pelt and drive her +away.</p> + +<p>"How did we get news? Many plantations were strict about this, +but the greater the precaution the alerter became the slaves, the wider<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +they opened their ears and the more eager they became for outside information. +The sources were: Girls that waited on the tables, the ladies' +maids and the drivers; they would pick up everything they heard and pass +it on to the other slaves.</p> + +<p>"Saturday afternoons? These were given to women to do the family +washing, ironing, etc., and the men cut fire wood, or worked in the garden, +and special truck crops. Christmas? Christmas was a holiday, but +the fourth of July meant very little to the slave people. Dances? There +was lots of dancing. It was the pastime of the slave race. The children +played shimmy and other games, imitating the white children, sometimes +with the white folks.</p> + +<p>"The master and mistress were very particular about the slave +girls. For instance, they would be driving along and pass a girl walking +with a boy. When she came to the house she would be sent for and questioned +something like this: 'Who was that young man? How come you with +him? Don't you ever let me see you with that ape again. If you cannot +pick a mate better than that I'll do the picking for you.' The explanation: +The girl must breed good strong serviceable children.</p> + +<p>"No, I never saw a ghost, but there was a general belief among +the race in ghosts, spirits, haunts and conjuration. Many believe in +them yet. I can never forget the fright of the time my young master, William +was going off to the war. The evening before he went, a whippoorwill +lighted on the window sill and uttered the plaintive 'whip-poor-will.' +All the slaves on the place were frightened and awed and predicted bad +luck to Master Will. He took sick in war and died, just wasted away. He +was brought back in rags toward the end of the struggle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mistress always gave the slaves a big dinner on New Year's Day +and talked to us out of the catechism. She impressed on us after dinner +that time, that we were free. Some were sorry, some hurt, but a few were +silent and glad. I and many of the others had been well treated. When we +were sick she visited us and summoned a doctor the first thing, but the +remedies those days were castor oil, quinine, turpentine, mustard plaster +and bleeding."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885 -1-</b><br /> +<b>District #4</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>May 29, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in20" id="in20"></a>FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVE</h3> + + +<p>"I was born about 1846, 'cause I was in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +de war and was 19 years old when de war was over. I went to +Charleston with my master, Ros Atwood, my mistress's brother. +My mistress was Mrs. Laura Rutherford and my master at home +was Dr. Thomas Rutherford. We was on Morris Island.</p> + +<p>"My father was Allen Rutherford and my +mother Barbara Rutherford. My daddy had come from Chili to +this country, was a harness maker, and belonged awhile to +Nichols. We had a good house or hut to live in, and my work +was to drive cows till I was old 'nough to work in de fields, +when I was 13. Then I plowed, hoed cotton, and hoed corn 'till +last year of war and den went to Charleston.</p> + +<p>"Master paid us no money for work. We +could hunt and fish, and got lots of game around there. We +had dogs but our master didn't like hounds.</p> + +<p>"Col. Daryton Rutherford, doct's son, had +me for a 'pet' on the place. They had overseers who was sometimes +bossy but they wouldn't allow dem to whip me. One old nigger +named 'Isom', who come from Africa, was whipped mighty bad one +day. The padderollers whip me one night when I went off to git +a pair of shoes for an old lady and didn't git a pass. I was +16 years old then.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Rutherford had several farms—I +reckon around 2,000 acres of land. We didn't have church nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +school but sometimes we had to go to de white folks church and +set in the gallery. We didn't learn to read and write. The +mistress learnt some of de nigger chaps to read and write a +little.</p> + +<p>"We had Saturday afternoons off to wash up +and clean up. When Christmas come the doctor would give us good +things to eat. When we was sick he give us medicine, but some +of de old folks would make hot teas from root herbs.</p> + +<p>"We had old time corn-shuckings before and +after freedom. We made sure enough corn den and lots of it—had +four cribs full. When freedom come, the old man had fallen +off a block and was hurt, so one of de overseers told us we was +free and could go if we wanted to. Some of dem stayed on and some +got in the big road and never stopped walking. Then we worked +for ⅓ share of the crops; had our little patch to work, too.</p> + +<p>"I was 31 years old when I married first +time. Was living in Mollohon. Her name was Leana and she belonged +to Madison Brooks's family, as waiting girl. I was married twice, +but had 13 children all by my first wife. I have 14 grandchildren, +and so many great-grandchildren I can't count them.</p> + +<p>"When de Ku Klux was in dat country I lived +wid a man who was one of them. The first I knew about it was when +I went down to de mill, de mule throwed me and de meal, and down +de road I went to running and met a Ku Klux. It was him.</p> + +<p>"I think Abe Lincoln and Jeff Davis good men, +but don't know much about dem.</p> + +<p>"I join de church when I was 68 years old +'cause God sent me to do it. I believe all ought to join church."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">SOURCE: Joe Rutherford (92), Newberry, S.C.; Interviewer: G. Leland +Summer, Newberry, S.C.</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885 -1-</b><br /> +<b>District #4</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>June 7, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in21" id="in21"></a>FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVE</h3> + + +<p>"I was born about 1849 in the Dutch Fork section<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +of Newberry County, S.C. I was slave of Ivey Suber and his good +wife. My daddy was Bill Suber and my mammy was Mary Suber. I +was hired by Marse Suber as a nurse in the big house, and I waited +on my mistress when she was sick, and was at her bed when she died. +I had two sisters and a brother and when we was sold they went to +Mr. Suber's sister and I stayed with him.</p> + +<p>"My master was good to his slaves. He give them +plenty to eat, good place to sleep and plenty of clothes. The +young men would hunt lots, rabbits, possums, and birds. My white +folks had a big garden and we had eats from it. They was good +cooks, too, and lived good. We card and spin and weave our own +clothes on mistress's spinning wheels.</p> + +<p>"Marse Suber had one overseer who was good to us. +We went to work at sun-up and worked 'till sun-down, none of us +worked at night. We sometimes got a whipping when we wouldn't +work or do wrong, but it wasn't bad.</p> + +<p>"We never learned to read and write. We had no +church and no school on the plantation, but we could go to the +white folk's church and sit in the gallery. Some of us was made +to go, and had to walk 10 miles. Of course, we never thought +much about walking that far. I joined the church because I was +converted; I think everybody ought to join the church.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The patrollers rode 'round and ketched slaves +who ran away without passes. They never bothered us. When our +work was over at night, we stayed home, talked and went to sleep. +On Saturday afternoons white folks sometimes give us patches of +ground to work, and we could wash up then, too. We raised corn +on the patches and some vegetables. On Sunday we just rested +and went to neighbor's house or to church. On Christmas we +had big eats.</p> + +<p>"Corn-shuckings and cotton-pickings always had +suppers when work was done. Master made whiskey up at his +sister's place, and at these suppers he had whiskey to give us.</p> + +<p>"When we was sick we had a doctor—didn't believe +much in root teas.</p> + +<p>"I married when I was 15 years old at a white +man's place, Mr. Sam Cannon's. A negro man named Jake Cannon +married us. Supper was give us by Mr. Sam Cannon after it was +over.</p> + +<p>"When freedom came, my mother moved away, but +I stayed on.</p> + +<p>"I think Abraham Lincoln was a good man, and +Jeff Davis was a good man. I don't know anything about Booker +Washington."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Lila Rutherford (86), Newberry, S.C., RFD<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.2em;">Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St., +Newberry, S.C.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #-1655</b><br /> +<b>Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler</b><br /> +<b>Murrells Inlet, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Georgetown County</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>FOLKLORE</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in22" id="in22"></a>Uncle Sabe Rutledge<br /> +(Testimony given by old man born 1861, The Ark Plantation.<br /> +Horry County—owned by Mr. John Tillman)</h3> + + +<p>"Fust thing I realize to remember, I nuster cry to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +go to the old boss—old Massa—for sugar. Massa +say:</p> + +<p>"'Martha, what Newman (he call me that) crying for?' +Ma say, 'Wanter come to you for sugar!'</p> + +<p>"'Bring the boy here, Martha!'</p> + +<p>"He gi'e me sugar.</p> + +<p>"Boil salt? Pump! Pump! Pump it! Had a tank. +Run from hill to sea. Had a platform similar to wharf. +And pump on platform. Fetch good high. Go out there on +platform. Force pump. My Grandmother boil salt way +after Freedom. We tote water. Tote in pidgin and keeler—make +out of cedar and cypress. No 'ting to +crove 'em (groove 'em) compass. Dog-wood and oak rim. +Give it a lap. (This was his description, with pantomime, +of the way pidgin and keelers were made by plantation +carpenters)</p> + +<p>"My Grandmother had two pots going. Boil all day +and all night. Biling. Boil till he ticken (thicken) +Cedar paddles stir with. Chillun eat with wooden spoons. +Clay pot? Just broken piece. Indian had big camping +ground on beach near the Ark. After big blow you can +find big piece of pot there. I see Indian. Didn't see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +wild one; see tame one.</p> + +<p>"Indigo? Old man Lashie Tillman nuster plant indigo. +Seed lak a flax. Put myrtle seed in with indigo to boil. +Gather and boil for the traffic. All the big folkses +plant that fore the rice. Rice come in circulation, do +way with indigo. Nuster (used to) farm indigo just like +we work our corn. Didn't have nothing but ox. And the +colored folks—they came next to the ox—Hill keep +advancing out. Reckon you wouldn't blieve it, but I ken +cummember (Uncle Sabe stutters a bit) when all that beach +been cultivate field. Must be nature for sand hill to +move. Time most got too fast now for the people to live.</p> + +<p>"Storm? Oh my Lord! Flagg Storm? Sea naturally +climb right over that hill like it wasn't nothing. Water +come to King Road. Reckon it would a come further if the +wind didn't shift.</p> + +<p>"Calls this 'The Ridge.' Why? I first man settle +here. Oak Ridge. (It is the highest land between the +Waccamaw river and the ocean.) Just name it so.</p> + +<p>"Member the shipwreck. Two men and lady come to the +Ark. Stormy time. Massa take them to town. Old anchor +there now. Come a blow you kin see it. Water rise over +it high tide.</p> + +<p>"Ma tell me bout they had the to-do. Blockade at +Inlet. Had 'em out to drill (The Yankees came to shore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +to drill.) Old man John Tillman lose all he China-a-way! +(chinaware.) Every bit of his china and paints (panes of +glass) out the window. Yankee gun boat sojer (soldier) +to Magnolia to drill. They tack 'em (attacked 'em) to +cut 'em off. When Rebs tack 'em, small boats gone back. +She had to brace 'em. Shoot dem shell to brace. (Gun +boat fired to frighten Rebs who were cutting Yankees off +from escape) I hear old man Frank Norris—lived right +beyond Vettrill Deas—I hear him (nuster come home to +the Ark and trap)—I hear him say lot of 'em bog. +(Ella, Agnes and Johnnie Johnson fadder been there) Bomb +shell hit the hill and bury them in the sand. Had to dig +out.</p> + +<p>"Old man John Tillman my boss. Sho treat his people +good. Don't see why his folks (slaves) went to blockade +(tried to escape and join Yankee gun-boats). Sho treat +his colored folks good. My Grandfather, Rodrick Rutledge, +driver from a boy. Time he big nuff to handle it till +Freedom.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't marry widout consent of boss." (Remark +from Uncle Sabe's sister, Mom Jane, who is quite acid. +All her information inherited—she Freedom child) +Mom Jane: "Been to devil and come back now!"</p> + +<div class="center">(Comparing slavery to the lower regions)</div> + +<p>Uncle Sabe—continuing:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have sick house; have chillun house." (All in this +section tell great tales of the 'chillun house.' Sounds +a lot like the nurse houses in Russia today. All the +babies were in this day nursery in care of the older +women, too old for field work.) "Corn. Meat—pig, +beef, fish—plenty milk." (Some cow 'coffee cow'—that +is give just enough milk for the coffee.)</p> + +<p>"Any rice?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Jane: (interrupting) "Pick you teet (teeth) to find +the rice! Great God! Now I can buy my rice!"</p> + +<p>Uncle Sabe: "Could plant up-land rice to Ark. (This on +coast away from fresh water)</p> + +<p>"Ash cake? Meal, salt, water. Not a grease! Not a +grease! See Mudder cook it many a hundred day!"</p> + +<p>Mom Jane: "Put it in the stove today,—nothing! +Rather have it any day!"</p> + +<p>Sabe: "Wrap it in brown paper, mostly. Cows free in +woods. Alligator tail good. Snail built up just like a +conch (whelk). They eat good. Worms like a conch. +Bile conch. Git it out shell. Grind it sausage grinder. +Little onion. Black pepper. Rather eat conch than any +kind of nourishment out of salt water."</p> + +<p>Mom Jane: "Conjur? Wouldn't turn a hucks bread for 'em." +(Give a crust.)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sabe: "What God got lot out for a man he'll get it."</p> + +<p>"Flat boat full up (with slaves trying to escape) +gone down Waccamaw. Uncle Andrew Aunt the one got he eye +shoot out (by patrollers) took 'em to camp on North +Island. Never see so much a button and pin in my life! +Small-pox in camp. Had to leave 'em.</p> + +<p>"Captain Ben and Captain Tom fadder—look how +he die! Looker the blood! Looker the people! Looker +the blood! His boat call 'The Bull River.' Up and down +Pee Dee river. Meet flat! Bore hole in flat and women +and chillun go down! Take men off. He COME TO THIS +COUNTRY. (Came down from North before Civil War) Them +darnish Yankee very percruel. (Peculiar?)</p> + +<p>"My Great-grandmother Veenia, pirate captured and +took all they money in English war. (Revolution) Dem +day Ladies wear bodkin fastened to long gold chain on +shoulder—needle in 'em and thimble and ting. Coming +down from New York to get away from English. My great +grandmother little chillun. Pirate come to her Missus. +Take all they money—come cut bodkin off her shoulder. +Grandmother ma gone on the boat and twiss herself in +Missus' skirt. Pirate put 'em off to Wilmington. Come +on down settle to Pitch Landing near Socastee. Keep on +till they get to Ark.</p> + +<p>"My Great-Grandma Veenia didn't have a teet in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +her head—one hundred ten years old and could eat hard +a bread as any we."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Uncle Sabe Rutledge<br /> +Burgess, S.C.—P.O.<br /> +Horry County<br /> +Age 76 (Born 1861)<br /> +Ark Plantation.</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1655</b><br /> +<b>Genevieve W. Chandler</b><br /> +<b>Georgetown County, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="captionr"> +<b>FOLKLORE</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in23" id="in23"></a>UNCLE SABE RUTLEDGE<br /><br /> +(EX-SLAVE STORY)</h3> + + +<p>"They call him Rogerick Rutledge for shortness. My Grandpa REAL<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +name Jim. First time I big enough to realect (recollect) him he have on +no pants but something built kinder like overall and have a apron. Apron +button up here where my overall buckle and can be let down. All been dye +with indigo. Have weave shirt—dye with blue indigo boil with myrtle +seed. Myrtle seed must-a-did put the color in. Old brogan shoe on he +foot. Old beaver hat on he head. Top of crown wear out and I member he +have paste-board cover over with cloth and sew in he hat crown. My Grandmother +wear these here gingham cloth call gingham twill.</p> + +<p>"Now the chillun! I member I was a big boy grown when I get my first +pants. All boy chillun wear a shirt——long down to knee and lower. Have +belt round the middle—just like you belt to hold 'em. Chillun have not +a shoe! Not a shoe for chillun on us plantation to the Old Ark. First +shoe I have, Pa get a cow hide and tan it. And a man name Stalvey make my +first pair of shoes. I was way near bout grown. Make the sole out the +thickness of the cow hide. Short quarter. No eye—just make the hole. +Last! Yes man! Yes man! Yes man! Keep 'em grease! Them shoe never wear +out!</p> + +<p>"We raise all we get to eat. Hominy, cornbread, peas, potatoes, rice. +Morest we plant this here yellow corn. I cry many a day bout that yellow corn!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +We say, 'Pa, this here yellow corn make hominy look like he got egg cook +in 'em; red corn look like hominy cook in red molasses!'</p> + +<p>"But yellow corn stronger feed! Stronger feed! And Pa know 'em.</p> + +<p>"Sunday come go to church in that same blue shirt! Little old +pole church—(gone now)—call 'Dick Green Bay Church'. (Named for +a local character.) When we go to church before freedom, Mudder and them +have to have the ticket.</p> + +<p>"Old man John Tilghman at the Ark Plantation have no overseer—have +'Driver'. Most folks on Waccamaw have overseer and 'Driver'. My Pa +been the Ark 'Driver.'</p> + +<p>"Old man Zachariah Duncan been the preacher. That the same man build +the first 'Heaven Gate' church after freedom. He got drift lumber on the +river and on the beach. Flat 'em—make a raft and float 'em over to the +hill and the man haul 'em to 'Heaven Gate' with ox. Yes. 'Heaven Gate' +built outer pick up lumber.</p> + +<p>"Before freedom Parson Glennie—he was 'Piscopal—he would come +give us a service once a month on the plantation—so mother said.</p> + +<p>"Patches of indigo all through the woods. You know cow eat indigo. +Us have too much ox! Have to haul rail all the time keep up the old fence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +Woods full up with cow. Cattle loose—free. When you want beef have +to hunt for 'em like we hunts deer now. I member some ox I helped broke. +Pete, Bill, Jim, David. Faby was a brown. David kinder mouse color. We +always have the old ox in the lead going to haul rail. Hitch the young +steer on behind. Sometimes they 'give up' and the old ox pull 'em by the +neck! Break ox all the time. Fun for us boys—breaking ox. So much +of rail to haul!</p> + +<p>"(You can't tell me bout this pension? Look like to me somebody trying +to smother something. Letters come. Cards come. My name on outside alright. +Tell me to put my name on cards and hand 'em out to my friends. Say send +twenty-five cents. Next time say 'Send thirty-five cents'. He cool off +then and another man—Mr. Pope come in. Got two letter from him and he +tell me be still till I hear from him again. J.E. Pope. Last blank I +got from Mr. Pope he say not to look for more than thirty or thirty-two +dollars a month. Say there ain't going to be no two hundred a month.)</p> + +<p>"How come I know all these Buh Rabbit story, Mudder spin you know. +Have the great oak log, iron fire dog. Have we chillun to sit by the fireplace +put the light-wood under—blaze up. We four chillun have to pick +seed out the cotton. Work till ten o'clock at night and rise early! Mudder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +and Father tell you story to keep you eye open! Pick out cotton seed be +we job every night in winter time—'cept Sunday! When we grow bigger, +Mudder make one card. One would spin and then Mudder go to knitting. +Night time picking these cotton seed out; day time in winter getting wood!</p> + +<p>"Fall——harvest peanut, peas, 'tater!</p> + +<p>"I member all them Buh Rabbit story! Mudder tell 'em and we laugh +and wake up! They was one bout Buh Rabbit and Buh Patridge. You know Buh +Patridge the onliest one get the best of Buh Rabbit!</p> + +<p>"Buh Rabbit bet Buh Patridge (Buh Rabbit think he so sharp you +know!) He bet Buh Patridge if he fly off down the road a piece and lit +Buh Rabbit can find 'em.—Buh Patridge bet him he can't! So Buh +Patridge take off and fly down the road a piece and lit—like a Patridge +will do—lit and turn up on he back and rake the leaves over him and +kiver (cover) his body all 'cept he two foots sticking up like stick!</p> + +<p>"Now Buh Rabbit come! He hunt and he hunt and he hunt! Couldn't +find 'em and he get so hot he take off he coat and hang it on Buh Patridge +foots!</p> + +<p>"He go on hunting and after while he call out,</p> + +<p>"'Well I can't find Buh Patridge! Can't find Buh Patridge!'</p> + +<p>"And Buh Patridge sing out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Well, Buh Rabbit, here I is! You hang you coat on my feet!'</p> + +<p>"Buh Rabbit have to pay the bet! (I don't member what the bet +was). So Buh Patridge was the onliest one I ever hear bout could get +the best of Buh Rabbit!</p> + +<p>"When Father and Mudder tell them story we chillun noddin'! Some +cackle out and all jump up and go back to picking out cotton seed!</p> + +<p>"There is another one bout Buh Bear. They goes out my head. I'll +think them Buh Rabbit up fore you come back Missus!"</p> + +<p>And Uncle Sabe, who was sitting on the 'LOOK OUT' at the Floral +Beach Fishery, continued to let his eyes play all over the sea like +searchlights, ready to wave the black flag and march down toward the +fishery holding it aloft keeping himself in a line with the fish if fish +were sighted. Since way before what he called 'the big war' he and his +people have eaten mullet and rice for the three fall months. His home +was visited before Uncle Sabe was located and children and grand-children, +wife, sister and neighbors were found seated and standing all over the +kitchen floor and piazza floor and steps——each one with a generous tin +plate of rice and fresh, brown, hot 'spot'——a fish not so valuable in +summer but choice in fall and winter. Two hounds and a large cat worked +around among the feasters for their well chewed bones.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Uncle Sabe Rutledge, The Ridge, Burgess, S.C., (Horry County)<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.3em;">Born first year of the Civil War.</span> +</p> + +<p>(He owns his house and land,——some twenty-five acres under +cultivation. This is located on what appears to be a 'height of land' lying +between the Waccamaw and the Atlantic. Locally it is known as 'The Sand +Ridge'.)</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885 -1-</b><br /> +<b>District #4</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>May 31, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Martha Ritter</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in24" id="in24"></a>FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I was born in Edgefield county, S.C., about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +1854. I was the son of Larkin and Cheny Ryan who was the slaves +of Judge Pickens Butler who lived at Edgefield Courthouse. I has +some brothers and sisters, but don't remember them all. We lived +in a log house with but one room. We had good beds to sleep in, +and always had plenty to eat. Old Judge Butler was a good man. +I was 10 years old when he died. Before then I worked in and +around the house, and freedom come I stayed with the Butler family +two years, then went to Dr. Maxwell's.</p> + +<p>"In slavery time we had extra patches of +ground to work for ourselves which we sometimes worked on Saturday +afternoons as we had dat time off. Judge Butler used to give us +a little money, too, before freedom come, for our work. We bought +clothes and things we had to have. We had a big plantation garden +dat the overseers planted for all on de place to eat out of.</p> + +<p>"We used to hunt 'possums, rabbits, squirrels, +wild turkeys, doves, partridges, and set traps for partridges and +set box gums for rabbits. We had good food then, plenty peas, +cornbread, and wild game. When winter time come we put on wool +clothes and heavy shoes.</p> + +<p>"Old Marse Butler and his mistress was good, +de best folks in de country. They lived in a big house, had a +girl and a boy, and over 1000 or maybe 2,000 acres of land, on +several farms. One was on Saluda River. His overseers some was +no good, but master wouldn't let them treat slaves cruel, just +light whipping.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We used to have to wake up at sun-up and +work till sundown. We didn't learn to read and write; but we had +a prayer house on de plantation where we could go to sometimes, +until freedom come, then we went on to it just the same. Old man +Bennefield, a nigger preacher, talked to us there. I can 'member +one of de favorite songs we sung:</p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +'Show pity, O Lord, forgive,<br /> +Let e'er repentant sinner live;<br /> +Are not thy mercies large and free,<br /> +May not a sinner trust in Thee.'<br /> +<br /> +'My crimes are great, and can't surpass,<br /> +————————————————' +</div></div> + +<p>"None of Major Pickens Butler's slaves ever +went away from him, but some in de neighborhood did run away, and +day never heard of dem again.</p> + +<p>"The paderrollers would catch a nigger if +he didn't have a pass. Some would pass and re-pass in the road, +and maybe get catched and such scuffling would go on!</p> + +<p>"We worked on Saturday afternoons unless +boss give time off to work our own little patches or do some +other work we had to do. But some would frolic then and wash +up for Sunday, or set around. On Sunday we went to church and +talked to neighbors. On Christmas we celebrated by having a +big dinner which the master give us. We had three days holiday +or sometimes a week. We had New Year's Day as a special day for +working, 'cause it was a sign if we worked good dat day, we would +work good all de year. The white folks had corn-shuckings and +cotton pickings in slavery and after freedom, too. Den would have +big supper. Some neighbors walk ten miles, like walking to church +or to school. Didn't think anything of walking dat far.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Some of de games played by children were +marbles, jump-rope.</p> + +<p>"Once an old man had his dog trained to say +his prayers. The dog was fed but wouldn't be allowed to eat until +he put his paws in front and bow his head on dem; de old man say to +him, 'No, no, you die and go to hell if you don't say your prayers.'</p> + +<p>"Once another fellow, a nigger, said he was +going to his wife's house to see her; but he had to pass his old +partner's place on de way, who was dead. When he got opposite +the partner's place something, maybe a ghost, came to him and +wrestled with him and wouldn't let him go on to see his wife, so +he come back to his master's house and stayed.</p> + +<p>"When the slaves got sick they had doctors, +and used old herbs. 'Jerusalem Ore' was a kind of herb for +children, to build them up, and there was field grass roots and +herb roots which was boiled and tea drunk for fevers. And 'Primer-rhine' +tea which was drunk, too. Sometimes they would hang garlic +around small boys and girls necks to keep away any kind of sickness.</p> + +<p>"We didn't have schools; started them the second +year after freedom. Old General Butler give us old slaves a home +each and a small patch to work.</p> + +<p>"I married when I was 21 years old, the first +time in Edgefield County, now called Saluda County. I have six +children, nine grand-children, and four great-grand-children.</p> + +<p>"I think Abe Lincoln was good man and he was +Providential arrangement. I think Jeff Davis was good man, same. +Booker T. Washington is good man, done lots for young niggers. I +rather like it now, and not slavery time. I joined church when I +was 18 to turn from evil ways and to live a better life."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Henry Ryan (83), Newberry, S.C.; by G. Leland Summer, Newberry, S.C.</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>Folklore</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>Oct. 11, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in25" id="in25"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I live in a rented three-room house with my daughter. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +am too old to do much work, but I work where I can get little jobs +that I can do.</p> + +<p>"The slaves did not expect anything after Freedom, for the +South was in such a bad fix. They just got jobs where they could +find them. Most of them worked as share-croppers or wage hands on the +farms, and have worked like this since that time. Some few have rented +farms. When any moved to town they got jobs where they could.</p> + +<p>"I never thought much about Reconstruction. Some slaves +voted at first, but when Wade Hampton was elected they didn't get to +vote much.</p> + +<p>"I think the younger generation has too much freedom and +doesn't stay home enough. They want to have their own way.</p> + +<p>"Over in old Edgefield where I was raised we had plenty to +eat; plenty peas, corn bread, turnips and other things. We hunted +wild game, too. I was a slave of Major Pickens Butler. He was a good +man and sometimes gave us a little money for our work. Our master +gave us a small patch of land to work for ourselves and plant anything +we wanted.</p> + +<p>"No, I never think anything about voting. I am satisfied +just to get along."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Henry Ryan (N—83), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/18/37.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>May 25, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in26" id="in26"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I am bad-sick woman, in bed and can't hardly talk and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +can't 'member much. I was born near Broad River in de Blair +section. I belonged in slavery to de Blair family. My mudder +and papa was Grace and Samuel Blair, and dey belonged to +Capt. Blair. When dey was sold, I was put in de house wid a +good free nigger woman to raise me and to stay 'till de war +was over. Den I come to de Blair house, and helped around de +house. My sisters could card, spin and weave, and I helped dem +wid it. I didn't have but one dress. When it got dirty, I went +down to de creek and washed it and put it against de lims to +dry, but I had to put it back on before it got good dry.</p> + +<p>"When I got old enough, I worked in de field, hoeing +and picking cotton."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Emoline Satterwhite (82), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 19, 1937</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>Sept. 9, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in27" id="in27"></a>STORIES OF EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"Marster Charner Scaife a-laying on his bed of death is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +'bout de first thing dat stuck in my mind. I felt sorry fer everybody +den. Miss Mary Rice Scaife, his wife, was mean. She died a year +atter. Never felt sad nor glad den; never felt no ways out of de +regular way, den.</p> + +<p>"Overseers I recollects was, Mr. Sam Hughes, Mr. Tom Baldwin, +and Mr. Whitfield Davis. Mr. Baldwin was de best to me. He had a +still-house out in a field whar liquor was made. I tote it fer him. +We made good corn liquor. Once a week I brung a gallon to de big +house to Marster. Once I got happy off'n it, and when I got dar lots +of it was gone. He had me whipped. Dat de last time I ever got happy +off'n Marster's jug.</p> + +<p>"When I was a shaver I carried water to de rooms and polished +shoes fer all de white folks in de house. Sot de freshly polished +shoes at de door of de bed-room. Get a nickle fer dat and dance fer +joy over it. Two big gals cleaned de rooms up and I helped carry out +things and take up ashes and fetch wood and build fires early every +day. Marster's house had five bedrooms and a setting room. De kitchen +and dining-room was in de back yard. A covered passage kept dem from +getting wet when dey went to de dining-room. Marster said he had +rather get cold going to eat dan to have de food get cold while it +was being fetched to him. So he had de kitchen and dining-room jined, +but most folks had de dining-room in de big house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It took a week to take de cotton boat from Chester to +Columbia. Six slaves handled de flat-boat. Dere was six, as I said, +de boatman, two oarsmen, two steermen and an extra man. De steermen +was just behind de boatman. Dey steered wid long poles on de +way up de river and paddled down de river. De two oarsmen was behind +dem. Dey used to pole, too, going up, and paddling going down. +Seventy-five or eighty bales was carried at a time. Dey weighed +around three hundred pounds apiece. In Columbia, de wharfs was on +de Congree banks. Fer de cotton, we got all kinds of supplies to +carry home. De boat was loaded wid sugar and coffee coming back. On +Broad River we passed by Woods Ferry, Fish Dam Ferry, Hendersons +Ferry and Hendersons Island and some others, but dat is all I recollect. +We unloaded at our own ferry, called Scaife Ferry.</p> + +<p>"I split rails fer fences. On Christmas we had coffee, +sugar and biscuit fer breakfast."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Alexander Scaife (82), Box 104, Pacolet, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #-1655</b><br /> +<b>Phoebe Faucette</b><br /> +<b>Hampton County</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>FOLKLORE</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in28" id="in28"></a>ELIZA SCANTLING EX-SLAVE<br /> +<br /> +87 Years</h3> + + +<p>"If you wants to know about de slavery times," said old Aunt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +Eliza, "you'se sure come to de right person; 'cause I wuz right +dere." The statement was easy to believe; for old Aunt Eliza's +wrinkled face and stiff, bent form bore testimony to the fact +that she had been here for many a year. As she sat one cold +afternoon in December before her fire of fat lightwood knots, +in her one-room cabin, she quickly went back to her childhood +days. Her cabin walls and floor were filled with large cracks +through which the wind came blowing in.</p> + +<p>"I gits along pretty good. My chillun lives all around here, +and my granddaughter that's a-standin' at the window dere, takes +care of me. Den de government helps me out. It sure is a +blessing, too—to have sech a good government! And 'Miss +Maggie' good to me. She brought me dis wood. Brought it in +her truck herself. Had a colored man along to handle it for +her. But I so stiff I sometimes kin hardly move from me waist +down. And sometimes in de morning when I wake, it is all I kin +do to get up an' wash me face. But I got to do it. My granddaughter +bring me my meals.</p> + +<p>"I is 87 years old. I know 'cause I wuz so high when de war +broke out. An' I plowed my January to July de year 'fore peace +declare. I remember dat. I wuz a good big girl; but jes' a +child—not married yet. Yes'm I plowed a mule an' a wild un +at dat. Sometimes me hands get so cold I jes' cry. But dey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +all say I 'wuz a nigger what wuz a nigger!'</p> + +<p>"In May peace declare. De first president of de country wuz +Lincoln. He took his seat in March. But I work for de white +people 'fore dat. On a Friday mornin' our Massa, Mr. Richard +Davant come an' told us peace declare. He come an' told us hisself. +I wuz in de cornhouse a-shuckin' corn to go to de mill +on Saturday. After freedom all de niggers left 'cept my Mamma. +My father brought us back here to Col. Alex Lawton's place at +Robertville. He used to belong to Col. Lawton. Many years +atter dat Col. Lawton moved to Savannah; but when he died dey +brought him back here an' buried him at Robertville.</p> + +<p>"My young Missus was de daughter of Mr. Sam Maner, my old +Massa; so when she marry Mr. Davant I went wid her. Dey had +bought a place in Screven, Georgia. Seven year 'fore peace declare +we went to Georgia. On a Monday mornin' a colored man +come along an' tell Miss Anna de Yankees had took Waynesboro. +We all went to see it. De fire had left de place clean. Could +pick up a pin behind it. Other than dat I see nothin'. I +never see no house burn down. I never hear no gun fire. I jes' +see de uniform, an' see 'em kill de hog an' sling 'em 'cross de +saddle. Den when we come back to Robertville, we see de destruction +left behind.</p> + +<p>"After I git of size I mind de birds off de corn an' rice an' +sech like. Den I'd take care of de turkeys. An' we'd sweep de +yards. Carry de leaves off to de stable in a wheelbarrow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Both my missus wuz good to me. De last missus I own treat +me jes' de same as her own child. I stayed right dere in de +house wid her, an' if I wuz sick or anything she'd take care +of me same as her own chillun. I nurse one of her chillun. +An' dat child would rather be wid me than wid her own mother!"</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">Source: Elisa Scantling, Scotia, S.C. age 87 years.</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No. 390166</b><br /> +<b>Project No. 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Mrs. Lucile Young & H. Grady Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Florence, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, May 25, 1937</b><br /> +<b>Typed by M.C., N.Y.A.</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>No Words_______________</b><br /> +<b>Reduced from ____ Words</b><br /> +<b>Rewritten by</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in29" id="in29"></a>Mary Scott<br /> +<br /> +Gourdin, S.C.<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, About 90 years old</h3> + + +<p>"Where and when were you born?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"On Gaston Gamble place, between here and Greeleville. In da Gamble's +Bible is my age. Don't know my age. Pretty much know how old, I bout +90. I wuz little girl when freedom come."</p> + +<p>"Give the names of your father and mother."</p> + +<p>"Father, John Davis. Mother, Tina Davis. Belonged to last mausa. Darby +Fulton. Gamble sold mama and three children to Fulton. Belonged to Davis +after freedom. Father belonged to Davis. Take first mausa's name. Sold +to Arnold Mouzon. Didn't take Mouzon name."</p> + +<p>"Where did your father and mother come from?"</p> + +<p>"Right where Grandma go, Gamble place."</p> + +<p>"Did you have any brothers and sisters?"</p> + +<p>"James and Benjamin. All ded."</p> + +<p>"Describe the beds and where you slept."</p> + +<p>"Had plenty slaves. I don't know exactly how many. In dem times you know, +we had to get ticket to go to see dere family."</p> + +<p>"What kind of house did you have to live in?"</p> + +<p>"Better dan dis. Better dan dis. Good house. Sleep on wooden bed. Straw +and feather mattress."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember anything about your grandparents or any stories told +you about them?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I ain't know my grandmother, grandfather either."</p> + +<p>"What work did you do in slavery times."</p> + +<p>"Didn't do no kind of work. Mother milked, tended to de butter."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever earn any money?"</p> + +<p>"No money."</p> + +<p>"What did you eat and how was it cooked?"</p> + +<p>"Boil meat and put peas or greens, rice cooked dry, take up in plate and eat. +One girl get done and wash dishes and put dem up."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever eat any possums?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my brother catch possum and raccoon."</p> + +<p>"Fish?"</p> + +<p>"Fishing in de branch."</p> + +<p>"Did the slaves have their own gardens?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, plant big garden, no use plant, go to dere garden and get it."</p> + +<p>"What clothes did you wear in cold weather?"</p> + +<p>"Thick. I could weave it with stripes and put one check one way and nother +strip nother way."</p> + +<p>"Hot weather?"</p> + +<p>"In winter warm clothes and shoes. Had Sunday clothes. I had a green worsted +dress."</p> + +<p>"Did the slaves have a church on your plantation?"</p> + +<p>"Go to white people church and sit out of doors and wait till dey come out +and den we go in and have preaching."</p> + +<p>"White or colored preacher?"</p> + +<p>"White preacher."</p> + +<p>"Was your master a good man?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gamble like to drink liquor but still good people. All who I talking +about good people."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What was Mr. Gamble's name?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gamble name Gatron Gamble. Son living in dat big house and grandson living +down dere."</p> + +<p>"How many children did Mr. Davis have?"</p> + +<p>"He had some not many. Mr. Gamble had some too."</p> + +<p>"What kind of house did Mr. Gamble live in?"</p> + +<p>"Medium size house. All had just common house, two-story."</p> + +<p>"What about the overseer?"</p> + +<p>"Overseer he see dat you work soon. Driver go in de field and stay 'til +12 o'clock."</p> + +<p>"How many acres in the plantation?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know how many acres."</p> + +<p>"What time did the overseer wake the slaves up?"</p> + +<p>"Wake dem up soon. Blow horn."</p> + +<p>"Did you have to work hard?"</p> + +<p>"Work 'til sundown."</p> + +<p>"Did you see any slaves punished?"</p> + +<p>"Some punished, but I ain't never see none whip. I heard stick strike de +ground and tie hands and feet. Paddle on dis side and den paddle on de other +side 'til sore."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see any slaves sold or auctioned off?"</p> + +<p>"My mother and us sold. Mrs. Gamble died left my mama for a daily gift. +She wouldn't allow dem to whip me. I ain't know when we be sell, I wuz a baby."</p> + +<p>"Did you see slaves in chains?"</p> + +<p>"No chains."</p> + +<p>"Did the slaves have a church on your plantation?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, de Gambles make us to go to Sunday school and learn us the Sunday +school lessons. I could plow. We went to white church and set down till +white people go out and de old man dat tend to de church and open up de church +and say come in, can't stay outside."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who preached for you all?"</p> + +<p>"My uncle, Jefferie Pendergrass, mother's brother. If colored people want +preacher preach, he go in dere and made de children be quiet and preach a nice +sermon and have watch night but not in de church."</p> + +<p>"Do you know any spirituals?"</p> + +<p>"I forgets dem things. I use to be good singer but I ain't got no teeth. +I ain't been looking fer dis. If you hadn't come, I'd been gone."</p> + +<p>"Where would you have gone?"</p> + +<p>"Just to walk about. All gone to de field and de children so bad."</p> + +<p>"Tell about baptizing."</p> + +<p>"Baptized by de white people."</p> + +<p>"Did the slaves run away to the North?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't know 'bout dat."</p> + +<p>"What about patrollers?"</p> + +<p>"No patarollers. Have to get ticket, whip dem if dey didn't get it. Colored +people do more than white people allow. Caused dem to whip dem. My sister, +my sister-in-law and girl went and tell dem dey gwine have play in white kitchen. +Mr. Sam Fulton boss wouldn't go to war. My sister, sister-in-law run up in de +loft and tell dem come down and dey come down and jump off de window and land +in de mud hole wid dere best dress on. Mr. Fulton let dem have it in de quarters."</p> + +<p>"Did you hear of any trouble between the master and the slaves?"</p> + +<p>"My grandmother went off and wouldn't come back. She write that she get +everyday what she could get fer Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Did you work on Saturday evenings?"</p> + +<p>"Some of de white people made dem work on Saturday evening. I had a uncle +when white people come by going to church he hoeing his rice. Dey didn't +want him work on Sunday. Miss Elizabeth Gamble tell dem he gwine to chop his +rice on Sunday."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What did you do on Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"Go to church."</p> + +<p>"Christmas day?"</p> + +<p>"I don't remember what dey give on Christmas day. My family got clothes."</p> + +<p>"What did you do at a wedding or funeral among the slaves?"</p> + +<p>"Just say got a wife, ain't married. If anybody ded everything stop."</p> + +<p>"What games did you play as a child?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what all I played."</p> + +<p>"Do you know any funny stories?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I used to tell my grands things."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see any ghosts?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't believe in it, but I see dem. Jest pass by and dey want bother you. +Don't know where dey come from. Dey look like people."</p> + +<p>"You don't believe in them?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, but I know one thing, dey say fox gwine mad. Say cat gwine mad +but dat ain't so. I ain't scared of nothing."</p> + +<p>"You are not scared at night?"</p> + +<p>"When de moon shining. Moon ain't shine might fall and cripple. When we +holler voice way back dere."</p> + +<p>"When the slaves became sick, who tended to them?"</p> + +<p>"White people tended to dem. Use medicine."</p> + +<p>"Do you make medicine out of herbs?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, don't make it."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see anybody wear a ten-cent piece around the ankle?"</p> + +<p>"I see dem wear it, but I ain't know what fer."</p> + +<p>"What do you remember about the war that brought you freedom?"</p> + +<p>"I know just as good when peace declared. Gun rolled in dat direction. +Must be guns. Cook say roll thunder roll and I say de sun shine it ain't +gwine rain. I wuz too little to know but my sister say every man and every +woman got to work for demselves."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What did your master say?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't know what master say, he single man and didn't talk much."</p> + +<p>"Did you stay with him the year after freedom?"</p> + +<p>"No, he didn't treat my mother right."</p> + +<p>"Any schools for Negroes?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty good time before schools."</p> + +<p>"Did the slaves buy any land?"</p> + +<p>"No land bought."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember your wedding?"</p> + +<p>"I member jest as good 'bout my wedding. I married on Thursday night. Some +white people from Kingstree and different ones come and pile it up and when I +get all dem presents some one stick fire and burn it all down."</p> + +<p>"Whom did you marry?"</p> + +<p>"John Scott."</p> + +<p>"Do you have any children?"</p> + +<p>"One gone in de field and dis one."</p> + +<p>"What are they doing?"</p> + +<p>"Working on farms. Jane got killed in de wreck."</p> + +<p>"Who is Jane?"</p> + +<p>"My daughter. She wuz coming to see me. Train wreck and kill her coming from +Norfolk."</p> + +<p>"How long ago was that?"</p> + +<p>"'Bout two years ago."</p> + +<p>"What do you think of Abraham Lincoln?"</p> + +<p>"I see picture of dem. Picture in dere of Lincoln."</p> + +<p>"Now that slavery time is ended, what do you think of it?"</p> + +<p>"I believe colored people do better in de slavery than now."</p> + +<p>"Do you belong to the church?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Promise Land Baptist church."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think people ought to go to church?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To have some protection and when you go in a church dat is a place +for you to be taken care of. Dey ain't got no religion."</p> + +<p>"Was the overseer 'poor white trash?'"</p> + +<p>"I could hear de people talk 'bout him. Some like him and some don't. If +I got a wife over yonder, I got to get ticket before I could go to see her. +Had to work hard too."</p> + +<p>"Let us see the picture of Lincoln."</p> + +<p>"Dis is it." (Granddaughter shows us Aunt Mary's picture)</p> + +<p>"Is that the one?"</p> + +<p>"Yea, I think so."</p> + +<p>"Let me see, dat ain't de one. Here is." (Aunt Mary showed us a picture +which looked to be taken from some New York newspaper. It was probably a screen +star).</p> + +<p>"Who told you that was Lincoln?"</p> + +<p>"Some preacher or somebody come here and tell me."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg—Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>May 18, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in30" id="in30"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"Aunt" Nina Scot sat on her front porch. She was drinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +some liquid from a bottle which she said would help her trouble. +Being short of breath, she was not able to talk very much. She +said that she was very small at the time she was set free. "My +Marster and his folks did not treat me like a nigger," she said, +"they treated me like they did other white folks." She said that +she and her mother had belonged to Dr. Shipp, who taught at Wofford +College, that they had come here from Chapel Hill, N.C. and that +she was a tarheel negro. She said that white people in slavery days +had two nurses, one for the small children and one for the older +ones. "Yes sir, those were certainly fine people that lived on the +Campus during those days. (Wofford Col. Campus) When the 'raid' +came on, people were hiding things all about their places." She referred +to the Yankee soldiers who came to Spartanburg after the +close of the Civil War. "My mother hid the turkeys and told me +where she had hidden them." Dr. Shipp came up to Nina one day and +asked her where the turkeys were hidden. She told him they were +hidden behind a clump of small trees, and pointed them out to him. +"Well," he said, "tell your mother to go and hide them somewhere +else and not to tell you about it. You would tell the Yankees just +where those turkeys were hidden." Aunt Nina recalls that Mr. and +Mrs. Dr. Duncan (formerly of Wofford College) had a habit of getting +a slice of bread and butter for all the neighboring children +(black or white) whenever their nurses brought them to their home.</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: "Aunt" Nina Scott, 260 N. Converse St., Spartanburg, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg Office, Dist. 4</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">(May 17, 1937)</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>May 25, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in31" id="in31"></a>STORIES OF EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I was born in Newberry County, near the Laurens County line,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +above Chappells Depot. My father and mother were Tom and Francis +Scurry and belonged as slaves to the Drury Scurry family. Dr. Drury +Scurry bought them from Col. Cooper of Laurens County. He was a fine +man and mighty good to his slaves. I worked around the house as a +boy, and in the fields when I got old enough. Some of the nigger +boys hunted 'possums, rabbits and squirrels. Dr. Scurry had 100 +acres in woods. They were just full of squirrels and we killed more +squirrels than you can count.</p> + +<p>"The slaves didn't have a garden, but after the war, we stayed +on wid Marse Scurry. When freedom come, he come to us in the yard +where we had congregated and told us we was free and could go anywhere +we wanted, but if any wanted to stay on wid him, he would pay +wages. All of us stayed on wid him. He give us a one-acre patch of +ground to raise anything we wanted to raise. He had white overseers +during slavery, but none ever whipped us 'cause the master wouldn't +let them. He had a plantation of about 300 acres and 40 or 50 slaves. +They got up at sun-up and worked 'till sun-down each day, but had +Saturday afternoons off when dey could do anything dey wanted to.</p> + +<p>"There wasn't much time for learning to read and write. The +white folks sometimes had niggers to go to their church and set in +the back of gallery. In our neighborhood, niggers had their own +church dat they made of poles and brush, and called it, 'Brush Harbor'. +They made seats from small logs sawed off of rough plank.</p> + +<p>"On Christmas day, the master would have a big dinner for his +slaves and spread it out in the yard. Corn shuckings were popular +and so were cotton pickings, where big eats were prepared for those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +who helped. They had big feasts at marriages, and even the slaves +had feasts at their marriages, the master and his family taking +part in the ceremonies. I was married in 1887, and at that time I +was living with Mr. Renwick, and my girl with Dr. Tom Brown. Dr. +Brown had us to marry in his yard in the grove, and over 200 persons +was there to see it. The next day, he give us a big 'infair' with +all kinds of good things to eat, presents and dances. We never had +any children. After we moved to town, my wife was a nurse or midwife +among some of the white families for a long time.</p> + +<p>"In Ku Klux times, I met five or ten of them in the road one +night. They never bothered me. They had long white sheets over them +and the horses. Slits were cut for the head, eyes, nose and mouth.</p> + +<p>"The niggers had an old field song: 'Give me dat good ole time +religion' which they sang most of the time. There was another song +they sang: 'Dark midnight is my cry—Give me Jesus, You may have +all this world, but give me Jesus.'</p> + +<p>"Some old-time cures for the sick was—barks of cherry tree, +dogwood, and olive bush, made into tea and drunk.</p> + +<p>"I thought Abe Lincoln was a fine man, done mighty good and +saved the country. Jeff Davis was a good man. Booker Washington +was a great man. I think slavery was bad; yet our white folks was +good to us, but some white masters was mean. I think everybody +should belong to the church and be a Christian."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Morgan Scurry (78), Newberry, S.C.; interviewed by:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">G.L. Summer. Newberry, S.C. May 19, 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>S-260-264-N</b><br /> +<b>Project #935</b><br /> +<b>Hattie Mobley</b><br /> +<b>Richland County</b><br /> +<b>South Carolina</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in32" id="in32"></a>Uncle Ransom Simmons<br /><br /> +Richland County, South Carolina.</h3> + + +<p>Uncle Ransom is one of the few remaining slaves who still lives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +and whose mind is still clear and active. He has just passed his one-hundred +and fourth birthday, was born in Mississippi, and brought to +South Carolina by his master Wade Hampton, the father of the illustrious +General Wade Hampton, before the Civil War.</p> + +<p>When the war broke out and General Wade Hampton went to war Uncle +Ransom cried to be allowed to follow his young master. He went and +served as a body guard. Uncle Ransom learned to read the Bible while +attending a night school held for slaves before freedom, and it was +only in recent years that he was taught to write his name.</p> + +<p>This old man lives alone in a shack at Taylor, a little village +on the outskirts of Columbia. He is furnished with all the milk and +ice cream he can eat by the Columbia Dairy. He purchases a little +food with the state pension of twenty-five dollars a year paid to Negroes +who served the Confederacy in some military capacity.</p> + +<p>Uncle Ransom says his master was the kindest man in the world, +and that as far as he is concerned, he has never had a worry in his +life, and as he said this, his face radiated with a broad and satisfied +smile.</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Reference:<br /><br /> +Personal interview with Ransom Simmons age 104.</p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>Stiles M. Scruggs</b><br /> +<b>Columbia, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in33" id="in33"></a>ALFRED SLIGH<br /> +<br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 100 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Alfred Sligh, who lives in a rented house at 1317 Gregg Street,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +says he was born in Newberry County, South Carolina, in 1837. His +hair is white and he is feeble. He goes about the city, on fair days, +collecting small sums of money from his white friends and sometimes +from his own race. In this way he earns most of his income.</p> + +<p>"My folks was slaves of the Sligh family for many years, befo' I +was born. My mammy and daddy and me b'long to Butler Sligh, at de time +I begin to do chores and take notice of things. I be nearly half grown +when my young master, Butler Sligh, am just four years old. He die, +four or five years ago. I guess you 'member, 'cause he was a powerful +well-known white man. He was seventy-five years old when he die.</p> + +<p>"De young master, he name for my old master. De old master and +'most all de white men of de neighborhood, 'round 'bout us, march off +to de war in 1861. One day I see them ridin' down de big road on many +hosses and they wavin' deir hats and singin': 'We gwine to hang Abe +Lincoln on a sour apple tree!' and they in fine spirits. My young master, +Butler, who they call Junior at de time, he am too young to go with +them so we stay home and farm. I go with him to de fields and he tell +de slaves what to do. Durin' de war I see much of de soldiers who say +they not quit fightin' 'til all de damn-Yankees am dead. Dis was so, +durin' de first two years. After dat I see more and more of de damn-Yankees, +as they pass through 'flictin' punishment on 'most everybody.</p> + +<p>"Sho' we hear dat all Negroes am free in 1863, but dat rumor not +affect us. We work on, 'til Sherman come and burn and slash his way +through de state in de spring of 1865. I just reckon I 'member dat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +freedom to de end of my life.</p> + +<p>"We gang up at my grandmother's cabin and she tell us it am so. +We look scared, lak mules in de midst of a hornet nest, as we stood +dere. We didn't wait long, for old Mistress Sligh she come 'long and +say: 'Sho' it am so, you am free.' Many of de slaves, 'cludin' me, +tell her we love to stay on and work as usual 'til de big white folks +come. She smile and say: 'All right, maybe we be able to feed and +clothe you, and when your old master git back from Virginia, maybe he +will hire you!'</p> + +<p>"When I first marry, which was at de start of de war, I marry +Sarah, a slave gal on de Sligh plantation. We has several chillun, +befo' she die, which was soon after we move to Columbia. De chillun, +at least two boys and two gals, all git grown, but they go North a long +time ago, and I never hears from them.</p> + +<p>"When I come to Columbia in 1866, I find work on houses, and building +was plentiful then. I git 'long pretty well, then, 'cause if I did +not land a job, I could go to de Freedman's Aid Office at Assembly and +Gervais streets and git rations and a little cash for my family. After +de Freedman's Aid left town I had no trouble findin' work. And soon I +was pretty prosperous. I kept that way, so long as I was able to do my +share of de work.</p> + +<p>"It was in 1913, as I was walkin' 'long Hampton Street, dat I see +my present wife, Sadie. She pass by me, and smile and look and I smile +and look, and she slow up a little and say: 'What's happen, big boy?' +I am so tickled, I say: 'I just have to tell you:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +'De rose am red,<br /> +De violet's blue,<br /> +No knife can cut<br /> +My love in two.' +</div></div> + +<p>"She say; 'Pretty good, big boy, pretty good! Come 'round and +see me sometime.' I answer: 'I sho' will, Peaches and Cream'. And +dat am just what I did. We got married dat same year, and we have been +happy, 'til I git too old and feeble to work much. She work now to de +best of her ability and we somtimes has a big squeeze to pay de rent. +Dat is why I'm hopin' to get de old age pension, made possible by de +greatest President of them all.</p> + +<p>"Does I recall de 'sassination of de first President dat died +dat way? Yes sir, I sho' do. De first one was Abraham Lincoln, a little +after de close of de war. He was shot while sittin' in a seat in de +theater at Washington. James A. Garfield, was de nex' one. He was shot +in de depot, at Washington. De nex' one was McKinley. He was shot while +at a show place, in Buffalo."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon,</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in34" id="in34"></a>DAN SMITH<br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 75 YEARS.</span></h3> + + +<p>Dan Smith lives in one room, rent free, of a three-room frame house,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +the property of his son-in-law, Jim Cason. It is situated on the southeast +corner of Garden and Palmer streets in the town of Winnsboro, S.C. He is +tall, thin and toothless, with watery eyes and a pained expression of +weariness on his face. He is slow and deliberate in movements. He still +works, and has just finished a day's work mixing mortar in the construction +of a brick store building for Mr. Lauderdale. His boss says: 'The +spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.' There is nothing organically +wrong with Dan but he appears, in human anatomy, as Doctor Holmes's One +Horse Shay must have looked the day before its final collapse.</p> + +<p>"You been here once befo' and now here you is again. You say you +wanna git additions? Well, I's told you dat I was born in Richland +County, a slave of Marse John Lever and on his plantation, January de +11th day, 1862, when de war was gwine on. How I know? 'Cause my mammy and +pappy told me so. They call my pappy Bob and my mammy Mary. Strange as it +seem, my mistress name Mary, just de same as my mammy, tho' marster wasn't +name Bob, lak pappy. Him name Marster John and de young marster, an only +child, was name Marse Jim. You better stop right dere 'til I tell you pappy +no b'long to de Levers. Him b'long to de Smiths. Him name Bob Smith, after +freedom. Dat's how come I be dis day, Dan Smith. You ketch de p'int? Well +dats de way it was.</p> + +<p>"Befo' pappy take a shine to mammy in slavery time, her got mixed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +up wid one of old Marse Burrell Cook's niggers and had a boy baby. He +was as black as long-leaf pine tar. Her name him George Washington Cook +but all him git called by, was Wash Cook. My full brudders was Jim, Wesley, +and Joe. All of them dead and gone long ago.</p> + +<p>"Us chillun slept on de floor. Mammy had some kind of 'traption or +other, 'ginst de wall of de log house us live in, for her and de baby +child to git in at night. Us have plenty to eat, sich as: peas, 'tatoes, +corn bread, 'lasses, buttermilk, turnips, collards and fat meat.</p> + +<p>"De only thing I 'member 'bout my mistress is: One day her come down +to de house and see my brudder Joe sucking his thumb. Mammy tell her, her +can't make him quit it. Mistress go back to de big house and come runnin' +back with quinine. Her rub Joe's thumbs wid dat quinine and tell mammy to +do dat once or twice a day. You ought to see dat baby's face de first time +and heard him squall! It sho' stopped him sucking his thumbs!</p> + +<p>"Clothes? Didn't need no clothes in de summer time but a shirt. In +de winter, us just stood 'bout de fire. I'm talkin' 'bout us chillun, don't +'member 'bout old folks.</p> + +<p>"Master and Mistress lived in a big white house, two stories high, +tall brick chimneys at de gable ends, and wide front and back piazzas de +full length of de dwelling. Us chillun had no shoes. Mammy had two pair +all de time but they had wooden bottoms. Dere was no white overseers 'round, +but patarollers (patrollers) ketched my pappy once, in de house, jerk him +out and whup him, while mammy and us chillun yell and cry and beg them to +stop.</p> + +<p>"When de Yankees come, mammy hide us chillun under her bed 'traption. +They act mighty nice to her, so she say.</p> + +<p>"What kinda work mammy do? Her was one of de weavers. Heard her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +tell 'bout how they make de thread and de cloth. They had spinnin' wheels. +Person turn de wheel wid de hand and walk back'ards and for'ards, drawing +out de thread. Dis kind of thread, her say, was rough. Later they got a +thing de spinners operate wid deir foots, settin' by de wheel and workin' +it wid deir foots, sorta lak a sewing machine is run. Her 'low de thread +dat come to her in de weave-room from dis kind of spinnin' was smoother +and more finer than de other kind. After de yarn was spin, it was reeled +off de spools into hanks and then took to de warper. Then she woofed it, +warped it, and loomed it into cloth. Her make four yards in a day.</p> + +<p>"After freedom, pappy come and take mammy and all us chillun to a +farm on Cedar Creek, in dis county, Fairfield. I works dere 'til 1872, +I thinks. I gits concerned 'bout dis time wid two things, jinin' wid de +Lord, and jinin' wid de woman. De fust was easy. All I had to do was go +to de Methodis' revival, shout a little, and jine up befo' de preacher. +I just had to be convicted and convinced, but mind you, I was de one to +be convinced, de other was not so easy. De Lord was easy to find and quick +to take me, but de gal was hard to find and was slow to take me, 'cause +she was de one to be convinced dis time, you see.</p> + +<p>"I looks all 'round Cedar Creek. De ones I could git, I wouldn't +have, and de ones I would have I couldn't git. So dere it was. I mounts +old Betsy, dat was pappy's mule, one Sunday and come to Winnsboro. I spied +a gal at church, 'bout de color of a ripe pumpkin after de big frosts done +fall on it, hair black as a crow and meshed up and crinkled as a cucker +burr. Just lookin' at her made my mouth water. Me and old Betsy raise de +dust and keep de road hot from Cedar Creek to Winnsboro dat summer and +fall, and when us sell de last bale of cotton, I buys me a suit of clothes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +a new hat, a pair of boots, a new shirt, bottle Hoyt's cologne and rigs +myself out and goes 'round and ask her to marry me. Her name Ida Benjamin. +Did her fall for me right away? Did her take me on fust profession +and confession lak de Lord did? No sir-ree bob! Her say: 'I got to go to +school some more, I's too young. Got to see papa and mama 'bout it. Wait +'til you come nex' time and I'll tell you.' I was confused then, I gits +up, gives her de cologne bottle, and mounts old Betsy, spurs her in de +side, gallops, and cusses all de way back to Cedar Creek. I confess to +mammy. Her laugh and say: 'Dan, you knows nothin' 'bout women and gals. +Why it's mighty plain she gonna say yes, nex' time.' Just lak her say, +Ida did, and us got married de end of de nex' school term, in May.</p> + +<p>"Us had ten chillun. Dan, name for me, is at Concord, N.C. Oscar +is in Concord, N.C. Lucinda marry a Haltiwanger and is comfortable in +Baltimore, Md. Aurelia marry a Williams and is in Baltimore. Henrietta +marry a Sawney and is in Charlotte, N.C. Lilly marry Jim Cason and live +right in Winnsboro, in de house I have a room in.</p> + +<p>"I got lots of gran'childs, too many to mention, They take after +dere grandma, lak to go to school and read de Bible and go to church and +Sunday School.</p> + +<p>"Whut I have on my mind now is a pension. When a man git seventy-five +years old, (I hear folks talk 'round me) dat man should not be 'lowed +to work on de Supreme Court, him should be give a pension of $15,000.00 +and made to stop work. Him may have chillun dat can support him, all de +same, dat jedge gits his pension. Then in de name of goodness, why don't +they make me quit mixing mortar when I is seventy-five years old and give +me $240.00 a year? Sauce for de fat goose Supreme Court Jedge, oughta be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +sauce for de mortar mixer poor gander, I 'low. It look lak jestice for de +rich jedge and mix more mortar for poor Dan."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, July 22, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>No. Words</b>________<br /> +<b>Reduced from______words</b><br /> +<b>Rewritten by</b><br /> +_______________________</div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in35" id="in35"></a>HECTOR SMITH<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 79 Years</h3> + + +<p>"I born down here in Wahee Neck. Easter Avant, dat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +was my mammy en my father name Hector Smith. Coase I +ain' never see him cause he die fore I was born, but dat +what dey tell me. Dat was a pretty rough time wid de +people den. I don' recollect so much bout de times back +dere cause in dat day en time chillun didn' have de heap +of knowledge dey have dis day en time, but I remembers +seein de Yankees en de people gwine to de war. Oh, dat +was a tough time cause dey use de whip in dem days. Oh, +yes'um, my Massa whip my gran'mammy wid a leather strap. +You see she had a knack of gwine off for some cause or +another en meetin de boat what run up en down dat big Pee +Dee river en bring fertilizer en all kind of goods to de +peoples. Massa Randall had told her not to go nowhe' bout +dat boat, but some people is sorta high strung like en dey +go off anyhow no matter bout de whip. Oh, yes'um, he sho +whip her like he didn' have no soul to save."</p> + +<p>"I couldn' tell you nothin bout how many slaves Massa +Randall Davis had, but I know dat he had a right smart of +them. I know it cause he had so many field hands dey didn' +none of em never have to work every day in de field. Oh, +dey just knock bout our Massa house en see after de stock<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +en such things as dat what time dey didn' have to work in +de field."</p> + +<p>"You knows when a thing happen so long back dere, it +does vanish from a person's remembrance some of de time +en den it'll wander back to you when you ain' thinkin bout +it. I does recollect dat dere wasn' nothin much more for +de colored peoples in dat day en time den what dey got to +eat en de clothes dey had to wear. My Massa give everyone +of he colored family a peck of meal en a quart of syrup en +so much of meat every week en 'low em all to have a garden +of dey own. Oh, dey work dey garden by de moonshine en +fore light good in de mornin cause dey had to turn dey hand +to dey Massa work when daylight come here. I tellin you +corn bread was sweet to me in dat day en time as pound cake +ever been. Wasn' never noways pickin' en choosin bout nothin. +Oh, I forget bout all dem possums en rabbits dat eat right +smart in dem days. Use to catch em when dey had swells of +de water en dey come out de woods to hunt dry land. It just +like dis, dey couldn' conceal demselves in de open fields +en dat how-come we catch em so easy. Run em down wid de +dogs en make em take to de water. Dat how we catch em. Dat +sho was sweet eatin in dem days."</p> + +<p>"Den we had a log house to stay in what never had but +just one room en de furniture we had was worser den de house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +Us beds was made wid four stumps for de corners dat had +boards lay cross em to put de mattress on. Some of de +colored peoples had bag mattress stuff wid hay en de +others had homespun mattress what was stuff wid dis here +gray moss you see in de woods. En I remembers all bout +when de peoples had to cook in de fireplace cause dere +wasn' much stoves in circulation in dat day en time."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don' know so much bout dem things peoples +call ghost, but I know dat I has seen things. I knows +once long time back I was gwine long de road late on a +evenin drivin me ox what I had hitch up to de cart en a +ghost or somethin or another cause dat cart wheel to go +right in de ditch. Well, de ox, he pull en he pull, but +wid all me help, he couldn' never pull dat cart out. I +ax some of dem people bout dere what dey reckon dat was +en dey say all dey know to compare it to was a hant or a +ghost. No 'mam, didn' see it, just hear it cause it come +right to my back en knocked. It had been rainin en soon +as it quit, de moon shine out bright as ever was day en +dat when de hant turn de cart loose."</p> + +<p>"De next thing I see was one time when me en another +fellow was sleepin in de swamp. I couldn' tell whe' de +moon rise den en when I come to my senses, dere was one +of dem things just a danglin in de air like dese things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +show people have. Some people say dat was a ghost."</p> + +<p>"Oh, de peoples didn' never worry bout no doctor den. +Dey doctor was in de field in dat day en time. I gwine tell +you just like I know it, all de older peoples use to get de +herbs out de old fields for dey remedies. My Massa en my +Missus was de ones what doctor mostly in dem times. Use to +get old field ringdom, what smell like dis here mint, en +boil dat en let it steep. Dat what was good to sweat a fever +en cold out you. Den dere was life everlastin tea dat was +good for a bad cold en cherry bark what would make de blood +so bitter no fever never couldn' stand it. Dem what had de +rheumatism had to take dat lion's tongue or what some peoples +calls wintergreen tea en some of de time, dey take pine top +en mix wid de herbs to make a complete cure. Oh, dey make +it bad as dey could so as to weaken de case. Another thing +dat been good for de rheumatism was dat red oak bark dat dey +use to bathe de limbs wid. Willow tea was somethin good for +chill en fever en catnip en sage tea was de thing for babies."</p> + +<p>"It like I tell you de colored peoples never get no learnin +but what little dey catch from de plantation men in dem night +schools. Oh, dey give everyone of us a slate en slate pencil +en we study dere in de quarter in de night time by de light +of de fire. Studied dem Blue Back Websters. Dat was de text +we know bout den."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I tell you de truth I live so much in darkness den +dat I think dat time was bout good as dis time. Didn' +know no better sense den. I tell you just like I been know +it, de peoples was coward like in dem days. Couldn' never +pluck up no ambition to do a heap of things de people do +dis day en time. Dat how-come I rather live in dis go round."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source:</span> Hector Smith, ex-slave, age 79, Wahee section of<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Marion Co., S.C.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview, July 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No. 390144</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, July 14, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>No. Words________</b><br /> +<b>Reduced from_____words</b><br /> +<b>Rewritten by</b><br /> +______________________</div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in36" id="in36"></a>HECTOR SMITH<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 79 years</h3> + + +<p>"I studied en studied what songs would suit, but dem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +old familiar hymns bout all I know dese days. You see dem +old familiar hymns what de spirit sings. It just like I +tell you, I put all dem other kind of songs away when I is +change to a better way of livin. I does remember first one +en den de other of dem frolicksome song dat my grandparents +learnt me."</p> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="center">NOBODY BUSINESS BUT MINE</div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +I. Rabbit in de hollow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I ain' got no dog,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">How can I catch em?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I do know! I do know!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O Me! O Mine!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sorry dat if I leave my home,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I gwine to my shack</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wid de chicken on my back,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nobody business but mine.</span> +</div></div> + +<div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></div> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +II. Rabbit in de hollow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ain' got no dog,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">How can he catch em?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I do know! I do know!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O Me! O Mine!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Let every nigger have his way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gwine to his shack</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wid he chicken on his back,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nobody business but his.</span> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-top: 3em;"> +<span class="under">Source:</span> Hector Smith, ex-slave, 79 years.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wahee section of Marion Co., S.C.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview, July 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, July 14, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>No. Words______7____</b><br /> +<b>Reduced from_____words</b><br /> +<b>Rewritten by</b><br /> +________________________</div> + +<h3 class="chapter2"><span class="under">WAY DOWN IN DE LONESOME VALLEY</span></h3> +<div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></div> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +I. De mockin birds a singin so sweetly,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">So sweetly, so sweetly.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">De mockin birds a singin so sweetly,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">So sweetly, so sweetly.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Way down in de lonesome valley.</span><br /> +<br /> +II. Dey tell you one thing en dey mean another,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Mean another, mean another.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Dey tell you one thing en dey mean another,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Mean another, mean another.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Way down in de lonesome valley.</span><br /> +<br /> +III. Some say, what make de young girls so deceivin?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">So deceivin, so deceivin?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Some say, what make de young girls so deceivin?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">So deceivin, so deceivin?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Way down in de lonesome valley.</span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Dat go way back dere. De peoples didn' have +nothin more den a mouth organ to make music wid +in dem times."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source:</span> Hector Smith, age 79, ex-slave., Wahee section +of Marion Co., S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview, July 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, July 14, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>No. Words____8______</b><br /> +<b>Reduced from_____words</b><br /> +<b>Rewritten by</b><br /> +________________________</div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><span class="under">HOLD DE DEAL</span></h3> +<div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></div> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +I. Kitty, Kitty died O—O,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Kitty had a man.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Rather kiss a monkey,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Den to kiss a nigger man.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Hold de deal! Hold de deal!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I'm gwine to get drunk again.</span><br /> +<br /> +II. Nigger on de horseback,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Thought he was de king.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Come along alligator,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">En let de nigger in.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Hold de deal! Hold de deal!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I'm gwine to get drunk again.</span> +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source</span>: Hector Smith, age 79, ex-slave, Wahee section +of Marion Co., S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview, July 1937.</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, July 14, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>No. Words____9______</b><br /> +<b>Reduced from_____words</b><br /> +<b>Rewritten by</b><br /> + ________________________</div> + +<h3 class="chapter2">Hector Smith<br /> +ex-Slave, 79 years.</h3> + + +<p>"I use to holler a heap in late years but after I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +lay it down, all dat leave me."</p> +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +<br /> +Bulldogs a barkin,<br /> +Howl! Howl!<br /> +Bulldogs a barkin,<br /> +Howl! Howl!<br /> +Bulldogs a barkin,<br /> +Howl! Howl!<br /> +Ah—oodle—oodle—ou,<br /> +Ah—oodle—oodle—ou,<br /> +Ah—ou—ah—ou,<br /> +Ah—oodle—ou,<br /> +Ah—ou—ah—ou,<br /> +Ah—oodle—oodle—ou. +</div></div> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source:</span> Hector Smith, 79 years, ex-slave, Wahee section +of Marion Co., S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview, July 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Folk Lore</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>District No. 4</b><br /> +<b>May 28, 1937.</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>R.V. Williams</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in37" id="in37"></a>STORIES OF EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"Aunt" Jane Smith, 80 years old, says that she was only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +eight years old when the war ended, and that her recollections +are very meagre as to conditions during slavery.</p> + +<p>Her mother belonged to John Snoddy, who owned a farm a +few miles west of Spartanburg. Her father was owned by Dr. Miller +of a nearby plantation. She stated that she was old enought to +rock the cradle for the white babies during slavery.</p> + +<p>She stated that she could remember seeing some of the +slaves being whipped on their bare backs with a plaited hickory +stick, or thong. She never received any whippings. She said +that a man once cut at her with his thong, but that she escaped +the blow by dodging.</p> + +<p>She said she remembered seeing a small child with a piece +of bread in its hand when a hog entered the house and in snatching +at the bread, caught the child's hand near the thumb with its +tusks. When running off, the hog carried the child with it, +dragging it along into the field. All the other children and +some men ran after the hog and caught it. The other colored +children were whipped, but by staying in the house and watching +the babies, keeping them safe from other pigs which had also +entered the house, she was not whipped.</p> + +<p>Aunt Jane said that when the Yankee soldiers came to the +house, they were just as thick as the "fingers on her hands." +She held up her hands for inspection to illustrate how thick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +the soldiers stood in the ranks. She said they did not take +anything, but that they crawled under the house to get the +hen eggs. One soldier, she said, came to the house and asked +if there were any horses on the farm. A colored woman told him +that there were no horses on the place, but just at that time, +one of the horses in a nearby stable neighed, and the soldier +threatened the woman's life for lying to him. She says she +doesn't remember whether the soldier took the horses but thinks +that he did.</p> + +<p>The soldiers told the colored people that they free, but +she said that didn't signify much to her mind. Some time afterwards, +she said her father came and carried her and her mother to his +master's place. Later, she came to Spartanburg and got a job as +a cook and washerwoman.</p> + +<p>When asked if she knew anything about conjuring, she +stated that she had heard of it but didn't know anything about +it. When asked if she had ever seen a ghost, she said, "No, +but I heard one once." She said that one night after her master +had killed "hisself" in the barn with a pistol, she heard the doors +being shut, the windows being slammed, and the chairs rocking on +the front porch all by themselves. She declared that the wind was +not blowing and that a "ghost was doing all dem things."</p> + +<p>She stated that she had been married twice; had reared a +houseful of children; had adopted some and reared them, but that +she didn't have anybody to work for her now but "him," referring +to her husband who was sitting on a trunk.</p> + +<p>"Thank the Lord for coming to see me," she said, as the +writer left.</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Jane Smith, Concord St., Spartanburg, S.C. Interviewer: F.S. DuPre</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>Folklore</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>Nov. 9, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in38" id="in38"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I liked to went crazy when my brother, Bob, went to Arkansas.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +Den Marse George Young wrote our names in a book and give it to +my ma. It was jes' a small mem'randum book. We kept it till Miss Addie, +dat is Mrs. Billy, give ma de Bible storybook, and den she copied our +names in dat one. De little book was about wore out den; so it was +burned up when Miss Addie had done finished writing our names in de +storybook. Us gwine to keep dat book and hand it down atter we done +left dis earth. Ma been dead now over fifty years.</p> + +<p>"I sho nu'sed Marse George's chilluns fer him, when I was a +little gal. Jimmie, Willie, Conquest, Jack, Katie and Annie was Marse's +chilluns. Conquest dead now. Marse George had a great big house. He +was a jes'tice of de peace or something or 'nother den. I don't know +what year my ma died, but Marse had her buried at New Chapel. Dat +same year we raised a big crop of corn, cotton and peanuts, and had +plenty hogs. Marse let us have all we wanted. He let us hang our +meat in his smokehouse dat year.</p> + +<p>"Befo' ma died and I was a little gal, a terrible thing +happened to us. Across de Enoree on another place, de Miller place, +Fannie Miller run away. Dey couldn't find her fer a long time. Dey +told my marster to git her. One Sunday my ma got ready to dress me +fer Sunday school. She bathed me and when she looked in de drawer she +couldn't find my clothes. All of her clothes was gone, too. I cried +'cause I couldn't go to Sunday school. Maude, de woman what lived +next to us, went to church. She saw Fannie dar wid all ma's clothes +on. She told Marse about it and he sont out and had Fannie caught.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +She had come to our house and got de clothes on Saturday evening. +She had dem hid in a old house on our place. Dey put her in jail, +and den her marster come and whupped her and sont de clothes back +to ma. She never tried to run off agin.</p> + +<p>"Jack Gist, a slave of Gov. Gist, run away once and lived +in a cave fer five months befo' de white folks found him. He went +down on 'de forest' and dug a cave near de road in sight of de Harris +Bridge which still spans de Fairforest Creek at dat p'int. De cave +wasn't dug on Governor Gist's land, but on a place know'd den as de +old Jackson place. In de mid hours of night Jack come to see his +friends and dey give him things to eat. When dey got him he had a +hog, two geese, some chickens and two middles of meat. Cose de hog +and de middles was stole.</p> + +<p>"One night he was crossing de Fairforest Creek on a foot-log +and he met Anderson Gist, one of de Governor's slaves. Dey talked +fer awhile. Next morning, Anderson come wid his marster to de cave +whar Jack was. Dey took all his things on to de big house, and he was +whupped and put back to work. Governor Gist and our marster was good +to deir slaves and dey didn't punish 'em hard like some of 'em did. +We had lots more den dan we has had ever since.</p> + +<p>"I never went to de field till atter freedom come. Dey +wasn't hard on us in de fields and I liked to work. We worked mostly +from sun-up till it was too dark to work. Marster's youngest girl, +Mary Jane Young, married Mr. Dave Lane. Dey didn't have a wedding.</p> + +<p>"My grandpa was a African and he talked real funny. He was +low, chunky, fat and real black. He went around a lot befo' he died. +He was de father of my mother, Clora. Granny, his wife, was called +'Fender' and she died de first year of freedom. She was sold and +lived on a neighboring plantation. We went to see her every Saturday.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +Ma would always take us to see her, and if we didn't git to go, she +come to see us. We liked to go, and Marse always give us a pass. De +patrollers watch us like a hawk, but we had our passes and we told +dem if dey bothered us our marster would handle 'em. He would, too, +'cause dat was 'de law'. Granny Fender was good looking. She wore +purty beads, earrings and bracelets, and wrapped her head up in a +red cloth. Her eyes and teeth flashed and she was always jolly. +Sometimes we stay all night, but most de time we come back home. +When she come to see us she always stay all night. All de old folks +had real religion den, and it kept 'em happy. Folks now are too fancy +fer religion and it ain't real. I has real religion and nothing don't +worry me. I feels happy all de time over it.</p> + +<p>"My marster give my mother de spot of ground and de lumber +fer our church which was named New Chapel. De second church is on de +same spot. De first preaching was had under a oak tree, or arbor. +Uncle Tony Murphy was de first preacher. He was my favorite of all +de preachers. Marse read de Bible to us, but sometimes others read +it to us, too. His son, Bud, dat was killed in de first battle, used +to come to de quarters and read de Bible to us.</p> + +<p>"Alex Hall was de minister dat immersed us all. We was all +Methodists, but out dar dey baptized everybody in de Fairforest no +matter what church dey went to. Dar was fifty people baptized de day +dat I was. Milly Bethane made me a big white robe to be baptized in. +When I got out I had a white dress to put on. Dey had a tent fer us +to go in to change our clothes. We was baptized in de Fairforest jes' +above de Harris Bridge. Everybody sung while we was going under de +water. Some of 'em shouted, too. It took de earthquake to shake religion +in my husband. He was Emanuel Gist, de first one.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dat night, de people was hollering and woke me up. My +husband called me. 'What dat?' he 'low. 'I don't know,' I says. He +got up and run out. Soon he come back home and he was shaking all +over. He fell on de bed. When de chimney started to fall, I told +him to git up. He said he was too scared to git up. I pulled him +up and he was so scared dat he shook all over. I opened de door. He +was too scared to stand up. Next day he couldn't work; so he went +off. I looked fer him till way in de night. When he did come home, +he was rejoicing. He was wid religion and he never give it up. Dat +was on de night of de earthquake. You could hear people hollering +fer miles around."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Mary Smith (N, 84), Buffalo St., Union, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (9/14/37)</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>S-260-264-N</b><br /> +<b>Project: #1885</b><br /> +<b>Augustus Ladson</b><br /> +<b>Charleston, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in39" id="in39"></a>EXPERIENCES OF AN EX-SLAVE ON WARDMALAW ISLAND<br /> +<br /> +<span class="under">Massa Wus Kind to Slaves</span></h3> + + +<p>Prince Smith, a man who is said to be over a hundred years of age, has lived<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +on Wardmalaw Island practically all of his life. His experiences during slavery are +very interesting and true to life. An interview with him revealed the following:</p> + +<p>"I was bo'n an' raise' on dis island and was only frum here when de Civil +War had begun. W'en Fort Sumter wus fired on mossa carried seventy of us to Greenville, +South Ca'lina on account of its montanous sections, which was believed would have prevented +the Yankees invasion in regard to their hide-out." We stayed een Greenville +nearly four years. Durin' dat time mossa planted his fa'm an' we wurk as if we wus right +here.</p> + +<p>"The Yankees had gunboats," he continued, "but dey didn' help dem atoll fur dey +couldn' make any a'tack dat dis place is so unsuited fur water battles. But forest' battles +wus fight on Beaufort Island and Port Royale. We een Greenville didn' know enyt'ing +'bout whut wus goin' on except what wus brought to us collud people by dose who wus +sent to da town. Mossa didn' tell us eny ting. Fur almos' four 'ears we stayed een Greenville +w'en suddenly one Chuesday mornin' bright an' early, Sheridan came into Greenville +on horse backs en' order ebery body to sarrendar. Colonels an' Gen'rals came een de city +widout de firin' of a gun. We stayed dere 'til harvestin' time by de orders of Master +Osland Bailey who saw to it dat we wus given money as a share fur our wurk.</p> + +<p>"Mossa's custom at de end of de week wus to give a dry peck o' corn which you +had to grin' on Sat'day ebenin' w'en his wurk wus done. Only on Chris'mus he killed en +give a piece o' meat. De driber did de distribution o' de ration. All young men wus given<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +four quarts o' corn a week, while de grown men wus given six quarts. All of us could +plant as much lan' as we wuld fur our own use. We could raise fowls. My master wus a +gentleman, he treat all his slaves good. My fadder an' me wus his favorite.</p> + +<p>"Some o' de slaves had to wurk on Sunday to finish dere week's wurk. If dey didn' +de dribber who wus a Negro would give a lashin' varyin' frum fifteen to twenty five +chops. Only high-class massas had Negro dribbters, de crackers had white overseers.</p> + +<p>"Like odder slaves had to hide frum dere mastas to hab meetin', us could hab ours +any night we want to even widout his consent. When masta went to town any o' his slaves +could ax him to buy t'ings for dem een Cha'leston. When Jews en peddlers came with clothes +an' gunger to sell, we as chillun would go to him an' ax fur money to buy whut we want.</p> + +<p>"He had about four hund'ed acres of land which he divided in two half by a fence. One +'ear he would plant one an' let de cattles pasture on de oder. We could also raise hogs +'long wood his but had to change pasture w'en he did. De people on his plantation didn' +hab any need to steal from him fur he didn' 'low us to want fur any thing.</p> + +<p>"Dere wus three kinds of days wurk on de plantation: One is de whole tas', +meanin' a whole han' or a person een his prime. He wus given two tas' fur dis day's wurk. +A tas' carried frum twenty four to twenty five rows which wus thirty-five feet long en +twenty five feet wide. De shree fourth han' wus given one whole tas' which consists of +twelve rows. All de young chillun wus included in dis group. De half han' was de old +slaves who did a half tas' for dere day's work. When it was time to pick cotton, de +shree fourth han' had to pick thirty pound' an' de half han' twenty fur dere day's wurk. +Dose who attended to the gin only include de three fourth han'.</p> + +<p>"Massa had shree kinds o' punishment fur dose who disobeyed him. One wus de sweatbox. +It wus made de height of de person an' no larger. Jus' large 'nough so de person<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +woodn' hab to be squeezed in. De box is nailed an' een summer is put een de hot sun; een +de winter it is put in de coldest, dampest place. De next is de Stock. Wood is nailed on +floor with de person lyin' on his back wid hans an' feet tied wood a heavy weight on +de chest. De shird is de Bilboa. You are place on a high scaffold fur so many hours an' +if you don' try to keep a level head, you'll fall an you will surely hurt yourself if +your neck isn't broken. Most o' de time dey were put dere so dey could break dere necks."</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><span class="under">SOURCE</span></p> + +<p>Information from an interview with Mr. Prince Smith, who is supposed to be over +a hundred years of age, Wardmalaw Island, S.C.</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>Folklore</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>Nov. 29, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in40" id="in40"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"Lawsey, honey chile, how does I know jes' when I was born.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +All sech as dat don't mean nothing to us old slave time darkies. De +mis'tus say, 'Silas, you sho was thirteen years old when dat 'Federate +War wound up! Dat's all I knows and dat's what I goes by. De white +folks is worrying 'bout my age being in sech and sech a year and all +de like of dat. No sech as dat don't worry Silas, kaise he sho don't +give it no mind, dat I doesn't.</p> + +<p>"Mis'tus call us all to set down on de side steps wid our +hats in our hands. She read dat paper. When she git through, us still +sets, kaise no writing never aggrevated us niggers way back dar. She +wait a few minutes; den she 'low: 'It means dat you all is free, jes' +as free as I is.' 'Dumpling Pie' jumped up and started crying. We all +looked at him, kaise he was a fat lazy thing dat laid around like +dumplings a-laying over kraut, and we axed him what he was crying for. +He say, 'I ain't gwine to be no free nigger, kaise dat brings in de +Issue, and I wants to keep my ma and pa, and what is I'm gwine to do +widout Marse Dusey?'</p> + +<p>"Dat woke us up. Didn't narry nigger on dat entire plantation +know what to do widout his marster. It was de awfulest feeling +dat everything in dem quarters laid down wid dat night, de new feeling +dat day was free and never had no marster to tell dem what to do. +You felt jes' like you had done strayed off a-fishing and got lost. +It sho won't no fun to be free, kaise we never had nothing.</p> + +<p>"Next morning Mis'tus low, 'Silas, I wants you to keep on +being my house boy.' Dat sound de best to me of any news dat I had +got. She hired me and I jes' kept on den as I had been gwine befo'.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +De quarters broke up, kaise Marse Dusey couldn't keep all dem niggers, +so Mis'tus low'd. Marse was at de war and Mis'tus took things on.</p> + +<p>"Dat left only a few in de quarter. In de meantime, carpetbaggers +and scalawags had put devilment in some of dem ig'nant niggers +and dey thought dat if dey leave, de U.S. gwine to give dem a plantation +atter de war had ceased, and plenty mules to make dem rich, like +quality white folks. So by dat time dey was a-raring to git moved off. +But I stay on wid Miss Sallie, as I called her den.</p> + +<p>"One dark, rainy cold day a stranger come riding up on a po' +hoss and fetched a note of sorrow. Marse Dusey had done died somewhars, +and Mis'tus was widowed to de ground. I stayed on, and in a +year she died. Mr. Thomas Smith of Hickory Grove is de onliest chile +living of my mis'tus, and he is 71 years old.</p> + +<p>"Atter Mis'tus died, I went to live wid my pa on Mr. 'Baby' +John Smith's place. He had been my pa's marster. Way back den it was +so many John Smiths. 'Pears like it was mo' den dan now. Dat why dey +call Mis'tus' husband 'John Dusey'. Each John had a frill to his name +so dat folks could keep dem straight in deir minds whenever dey would +speak of dem. Mis'tus sho was good to me. I 'members her chilluns' +names well; Misses Aurita and Amenta. Miss Amenta married Mr. Sam +Jeffries. Miss Rachael, Mis'tus other daughter, married Mr. John Morrow. +Her 'Baby' John married a lady whose name I jes' disremembers, anyway +dey had a son called 'Jeff'. He lived between Hickory Grove and +Broad River. All dese Smiths which I gives you renumeration of is de +Hickory Grove Smiths. You jes' has to keep dem straight yet."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Silas Smith (N, 85), Gaffney, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (11/27/37)</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, May 17, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="captionr"> +<b>No. Words______</b><br /> +<b>Reduced from ___ words</b><br /> +<b>Rewritten by</b><br /> +<b>____________</b></div> + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in41" id="in41"></a>MOM JESSIE SPARROW<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 83 years.</h3> + + + +<p>"Honey, my white folks been well-to-do peoples. Dey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +ain' been no poor white trash. Dey hab 'stonishing blood +in dey vein. I been b'long to Massa Sam Stevenson wha' lib +right down dere 'cross Ole Smith Swamp. Dey ain' hab no +chillun dey own, but dey is raise uh poor white girl dere, +Betty. Dey gi'e (give) she eve'yt'ing she ha'e en dey school +she too."</p> + +<p>"De ole man, he mind ain' been zactly right when he die. +Dey say he bury some o' he money down dere on he place jes +'fore he die. Coase I dunno nuthin 'bout it, but dats wha' +dey tell me. Dey say dey never is find dat money a'ter he +been dead. Reckon it dere yet, I dunno. Peoples use'er aw +de time be plough up kegs en box full o' money en va'uables +wha' de well-to-do folks been hide dere."</p> + +<p>"De white peoples use'er bury dey silver en dey money +en aw dey va'uables late on uh evenin' er early on uh mornin' +when de Yankees come 'bout. De Yankees 'stroy aw us white +peoples va'uables wha' dey is see. Um——dem +Yankees sho' was 'structive whey dey is went."</p> + +<p>"My ole mammy been Sally Stevenson 'fore she marry en +den she wuz Sally Bowens. My ole Missus take she 'way from +her mammy when she wuz jes uh little small girl en never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +wouldn't 'low her go in de colored settlement no more. She +been raise up in de white folks house to be de house girl. +Never didn't work none tall outside. She sleep on uh pallet +right down by de Missus bed. She sleep dere so she kin keep +de Missus kivver (cover) up aw t'rough de night. My mammy +ain' never do nuthin but been de house girl. My Missus +larnt (learned) she how to cut en sew so she been good uh +seamstress is dere wuz anywhey. She help de Missus make aw +de plantation clothes en dere ain' never been no better +washer en ironer no whey den my ole mammy wuz."</p> + +<p>"When I wuz uh little small girl, us lib right dere in +my ole Missus yard. Dey le' us chillun play aw us wanna den. +Never did hadder do none hard work tall. My Massa is some uh +time send we chillun in de field to scare de crow offen de +corn. Ain' never been no hoe hand in me life. When dey send +we to scare de crow 'way, we is go in de field when fuss (first) +sun up en we is stay dere aw day. Coase we is come to de house +when 12 o'clock come en ge' we sumptin uh eat. Dese white folks +'round here don' hab no chillun to scare de crow offen dey corn +nowadays. Dey has aw kind o' ole stick sot (set) 'bout in de +field wid ole pant en coat flying 'bout on dem to scare de crow +'way. Dere be plenty crow 'bout nowadays too. I hears em +hollerin aw 'bout in dis sky 'round 'bout here."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I 'member when I use'er nu'se de white folks baby. I +al'ays did lub to nu'se de babies, but I didn't never lub to +nu'se no ug'y baby. I lub to hab uh pretty baby to nu'se. +Didn't lak no boy baby neither. Don' lak boy baby nohow. +Lubbed little girl baby. Lubbed to take de little girls en +dress em up in dey pretty clothes en carry dem out under de +trees to 'muse dem whey dere wuz plenty peoples 'bout to see +em. Mammy al'ays 'ud fuss at me 'bout puttin' on dey best +clothes, but I ain' never do lak dese nu'se do nowadays. I +take care o' my babies, didn't never 'low em wallow in de dirt +lak yunnah see dese nu'se do 'bout here dese day en time."</p> + +<p>"I 'members one time I been nu'se little boy baby en I +is larnt he hair to curl jes uz pretty. I bresh he hair +eve'y morning en twist it 'round me finger en he is had pretty +curl uz dere wuz anywhey. Never lak de Missus to cut my baby +hair off neither when I had larnt it to curl."</p> + +<p>"I been lub to wash little baby clothes too. I is primp +em up so nice. Never did put no starch much in em. I do me +best on em en when I ge' t'rough, dey been look too nice to +le' de child muss up."</p> + +<p>"Honey, I can' stand no chillun fuss 'round me no more +dese days. Don' hab no chillun fuss 'round me peaceful little +place. I tell aw me chillun en grandchillun en great-grandchillun +dat I can' stand no chillun fuss 'round me no more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +My Sammie, he marry three times en I ax him why he wanna +marry so many time. I ain' never see no man I is wan' +since my ole man die."</p> + +<p>"I ain' wha' I use'er to be, child. I ain' able to +do nuthin more now but dem little bit o' clothes wha' Miss +Betty hab. Coase she clothes ain' hard to wash. Miss Betty +mighty clean, honey, she mighty clean. She don' strip she +bed but eve'y udder week en den de sheet ain' dirty one speck. +She does wash she self eve'y day en de sheet don' ge' de +crease out dem from one time dey wash till de next. I say I +gwinna wash Miss Betty clothes jes uz long uz de Massa'll le' +me em."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source:</span> Personal interview with Mom Jessie Sparrow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">age 83, colored, Marion, S.C., May 1937.</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date. May 24, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in42" id="in42"></a>MOM JESSIE SPARROW<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 83 years.</h3> + + +<p>"I dunno, child, I don' 'member nuthin more den I tell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +yuh de udder time. Is yuh been to see Maggie Black yet? I +dunno how old she, but I know she been here. No, child, +Maggie ain' dead. She lib right down dere next Bethel Church. +She move 'way from Miss Mullins house when Gus die. Coase I +ain' ne'er been in she house a'ter she move dere, but dey say +she hab uh mighty restful place dere. Dat wha' dey tell me. +Maggie oughta could tell yuh aw 'bout dem times. I ain' know +nuthin more to tell yuh. Don' tell yuh aw I know."</p> + +<p>"Who my mammy wuz? My mammy been Sallie Stevenson 'fore +she marry en den a'ter she marry, she waz Sallie Bowens. Don' +know whey dey ge' de Bowens from cause my pa been b'long to be +uh Evans. Dat how come Miss Betty know so much 'bout me. She +say we mighty nigh de same age. Coase I don' never 'spute +Miss Betty word, but I don' t'ink so."</p> + +<p>"No, child, I dunno. Dunno how many chillun my mammy is +hab. Dey aw been die sech uh long time dat I don' forgot. +Coase George, de carpenter, my brother. He been train up by +uh good carpenter man en Henry, wha' paint aw dese house 'bout +here, b'long to be annuder one uv we. It jes lak 'bout my own +chillun, I ain' 'member how many dey wuz. I know dere 'bout +t'ree uv dem bigguns dead, but aw dem babies, Lawd, I ain' +'member how many dere wuz. Can' never recollect nuthin 'bout +how many dere been come here."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My mammy been de house girl in my white folks house. +She marry when she ain' but 13 year old. Dat wha' she tell +me. She say she marry to ge' outer de big house. Dat how +come she to marry so soon. Say de white folks take she way +from she mammy when she won' but uh little small girl en +make she sleep right dere on uh pallet in de Missus room aw +de time 'fore she marry. Coase a'ter she marry, she been +de house girl right on but she never stay in de Missus +house when night come. Us chillun ain' been 'low to stay +in de big house. Dey hab uh room put on de kitchen fa my +mammy en she family to lib in. We chillun stay right dere +in de yard whey my mammy could look a'ter us in en 'round. +My mammy hadder stay 'bout my ole Missus aw de day en help +she cut en sew de plantation clothes en wash en iron. Den +she hadder help make quilts outer aw de scrap dat been left +o'er a'ter de garment was cut out."</p> + +<p>"Us chillun been fed from de table right dere in de +Missus kitchen en some uv de time my mammy 'ud bring us +sumptin to eat, wha' wuz cook in de Missus kitchen, en le' +us eat it in she room. Dey'ud gi'e us hominy en milk en +meat fa us break'ast. My white folks hadder uh lot uv +cows en dey'ud gi'e us chillun plenty milk en clabber to +eat. We is hab milk en clabber eve'y day en dey is gi'e +us plenty meat to eat, so dey is dat. Child, I ain' know +no slack eatin' 'round my ole Missus. Some uv de time we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +hab hoecake en den annuder time dey'ud gi'e us obben +(oven) bread. Dey cook eve'yt'ing on de fireplace in +dem days, eve't'ing. Jes hab rods put 'cross de fireplace +in de kitchen wid pot hang on it. Dat whey dey +cook us ration. Dey'ud gi'e us t'ings lak peas en +collards en meat fa we dinner. Den dey'ud gi'e us uh +big bowl uv corn bread en clabber late in de evenin' +cause jes lak I is call to yuh jes now, dey is use milk +right smart in dem days. I lak eve'yt'ing wha' dey is +hab to eat den. Dey never eat lak dese peoples eats +nowadays. I won' larnt to lak aw kind uv t'ing. Dey +use'er cook poke salad wha' been season wid meat. Don' +yuh know wha' dat? Poke salad is come up jes lak dose +weed out dere en dey is cut de top offen dem en take aw +de hard part outer em en den dey is boil em uh long time +wid meat. Dey is eat right good too. Don' lak spinach +en aw dat sumptin en don' lak celery neither. Don' lak +butter put in nuthin I eats. I laks me squash fried down +brown lak wid grease in de pan. I laks me beets wid uh +little vinegay on em en season wid some sugar sprinkle on +em. Don' lak em jes wid nuthin but uh little salt en +butter smear aw o'er dem lak some uv dese peoples 'bout +here eat em nowadays."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yas'um, we use'er eat plenty uv em possum. Eve'y +one dey is ketch, us parent cook it. Us eat aw kinder +wild animal den sech uz coon, possum, rabbit, squirrel en +aw dat. Hab plenty uv fish in dem days too. Hab pond +right next de white folks house en is ketch aw de fish +dere dat we is wan'. Some uv de time dey'ud fry em en +den some uv de time dey'ud make uh stew. Dey'ud put uh +little salt en onion en grease in de stew en anyt'ing +dey been ge' hold uv."</p> + +<p>"Massa Sam been hab uh heap uv colored peoples +'sides we, but dey lib up on de hill in de quarters. +My Missus, she see to it she self dat dey hab good bed +wha' to sleep on en plenty sumptin uh eat. She docker +(doctor) em when dey ge' sick too en she be mighty +anxious ef dey sick mucha. Us hab good clothes en shoes +den too. Coase de peoples'ud wear more clothes den, en +dey'ud put on more undey shirt in de winter den dey wear +in de summer. My white folks'ud make de plantation +clothes outer gingham en jeanes cloth mostly. Dat jeanes +cloth be wha' dey make little coat en pant outer. Dat +sumptin jes lak homespun."</p> + +<p>"No, child, dey ain' ne'er gi'e us no money den. +Never need no money den. My Massa been provide eve't'ing +us hab, honey, eve'yt'ing. We ain' lak fa nuthin den.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +We chillun ain' been big 'nough to do nuthin but scare de +crow offen de corn en some uv de time my ole Missus'ud +hab we chillun sweepin' outer in de yard when she be out +dere wid us."</p> + +<p>"Yas'um, honey, my white folks al'ays'ud see dat dey +colored peoples'ud go to chu'ch (church) eve'y Sunday. +We hadder walk dere to de white big Methodist Chu'ch up +de road en sot en de gallery. Yas'um de white folks is +stay down en we is go up. Ef we chillun never go, my ole +Missus'ud teach us de catechism right dere in de back +yard. Hadder wash us face en hand en come dere to she. +Yas'um, I 'members dat aw right."</p> + +<p>"My white folks'ud ride to chu'ch in dey big ole +carriage en dey driver'ud hab dey big black hosses bresh +jes uz shiny. I forge' de driver name. Dey hab uh pair +uv dem black hosses wha' been match hosses en dey is look +jes lak. En den one day de ole Yankees is come t'rough +dere en dey is carry one uv dem 'way. A'ter dat dey hadder +use one uv de plantation hoss in de place uv dis carriage +hoss. De Missus'ud al'ays take my mammy in de carriage wid +she too. Never left her home, so she tell me. Jes stuff +she down dere 'tween de seats somewhey."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source:</span> Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, colored, Marion, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview, May 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project No. 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, September 7, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in43" id="in43"></a>MOM JESSIE SPARROW<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 83 Years<br /><br /> +Marion, S.C.</h3> + + +<p>"No, honey, dere ain' not a soul live here but me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +Man stay in dat other room dere just to be a little bit +of company for me when night come. He ain' not a speck +of kin to me, not a speck. Oh, he pay me a little somethin, +but it not much. Mostly, I does want him for protection like. +Ain' got but just dis one room for myself cause dat part out +dere does be just like out in de yard. Dis Miss Mary Watson +house en she tell me stay on here dat de house ain' worth no +fixin. Don' know how long I be here. No, honey, I ain' got +no property only just myself. Ain' got not a bit. Ain' got +nothin, child. I can' do no work dese days but dat little +bit of washin dat Miss Betty have en dat ain' nothin to depend +on. Just try to do a little somethin to help myself along. +Nothin worth to speak bout though."</p> + +<p>"Miss Betty say we bout one age. My daddy belonged to +Miss Betty father en dat how-come she know dere ain' much +difference in us age. My mammy was de house 'oman on old man +Sam Stevenson plantation en dat whe' I was born. When we was +freed, I was a little small girl en my daddy moved us up here +in town right over dere on de Gibson place. Fore den, when +he have a mind to see us, he had to come cross de swamp dere +to old man Sam Stevenson place en dat de reason he move us.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +He say it take too much pains to keep dat gwine back en +forth. I remembers I finished growin right up here in dis +town over dere on de Gibson place. My mammy have task to +cook dere en my daddy been de butler man, but I was small +den. Can' recollect much bout it. Reckon I wouldn' hardly +know de place whe' I was born if I go back dere now. De old +man Sam Stevenson had nice house, but it burn down long time +back. Dey tell me dat de first court de peoples in Marion +did ever know bout meet right dere on dat same spot. Coase +I don' know nothin bout it, but dat what I hear dem say."</p> + +<p>"My Massa had a big plantation, honey, a big plantation +wid heap of colored people house. I remember dey call up dat +way from de house on de hill en all de servants house set up +dere. So I hear my mammy say she know bout some white folks +dat didn' half feed dey colored people en didn' half clothe +dem in de winter neither, but our white folks always treat +us mighty good. Put shoes on all us feet in de winter en +give us abundance of ration all de time."</p> + +<p>"Honey, I hear dem talkin bout dat war, but I can' tell +you nothin bout dat. I recollects I see dem Yankees when dey +come through my Massa plantation en took his best carriage +horse. Had two of dem big black carriage horses dat was match +horses en dem Yankees carry one of dem away wid dem. I hear +dem say de white folks would bury dey silver en money in pots +en barrels to hide dem from de Yankees. Oh, dem fiddlin Yankees<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +ax nobody nothin. Just go in de house en take dat what dey +wanted. Go right in de house en plunder round en take de +peoples best things. Wouldn' take no common things. Wasn' +right, but dey done it. I hear talk dat a man plowed up a +chest or somethin another de other day full of money, so dey +tells me. I hear plenty peoples plow up all kind of things +dese days in old fields dat ain' been broke up or throwed +out for years. I hear so, but I know I ain' never found +none though."</p> + +<p>"I sho been here when dat shake come here, child. I +been married ever since I was a grown 'oman en I was stayin +right over yonder in dat house dere. My son Henry was de +baby on me lap den en he tell me de other day dat he was +bout 50 now. It come like a wind right from dat way. Some +people tell me de ground was just a shakin en a mixin up, but +I don' know how de ground was doin cause I never go on it. I +hear de lumberation comin or dat what I calls it en it come +long en hit de side of de house so hard dat all de dishes was +just a rattlin. Every time de earth commence shakin, dem dish +start jinglin. It come bout de early part of de night. I didn' +know what to think it was till somebody come dere en say it been +a earthquake. Say de ground was just a workin up. I tell you +I ain' know what it was to be scared of, but dere been de old +Ark (boarding house) standin cross de street den en dem people +was scared most to death. Dey thought it was de Jedgment comin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +on. Reckon I would been scared worser den I was, but I didn' +get on de ground. No, honey, I reckon de house dat was standin +up in dat day en time was substantial like en it didn' worry +none of dem."</p> + +<p>"Is you seen Maggie Black any more? She been right sick, +but she better now. Yes, she been right puny. Don' know what +ail her."</p> + +<p>"Honey, what can you tell me bout dat white man dat been +shoot up bout Mullins de other day. I hear people talk bout +a man been shot by another man, but I ain' know nothin more +den dat. Ain' hear none of de details only as dey tell me +dey catch de man dat got away next Dillon tryin to get back +home. I tell you it a bad place up dere in Mullins durin dis +tobacco time. Dey tell me dere be such a stir up dat people +be rob en shoot all bout dere. Dat de reason I stay back here +whe' ain' nobody to worry me. Some of dem be seekin for you +when you sleep en den another time dey get you when you gwine +long de road. I don' like so much fuss en rousin en mix up +round me. Dat de reason I does stay here by myself."</p> + +<p>"De people just livin too fast dis day en time, honey. +You know some of dese people, I mean my race, dey got a little +bit of education en ain' got no manners. I tell dem if dey +ain' got no manners, dey ain' got nothin cause manners carries +people whe' a dollar won' carry you. Dis education don' do +everybody no good. It get some of dem standin on de top of +dey heads. Dat what it done to dem. Coase dey say everybody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +chillun got to go to school dis year en dat a good thing +cause dere be so many runnin round makin mischief when dey +ain' in school. I used to tell my chillun I buy dey book +en satchel en keep plenty meat en bread for dem to eat en +dey portion been to go dere en get dey learnin. If dey get +whippin at school, I tell dem go back en get more. Didn' +never entice dem to stay home."</p> + +<p>"All I know bout Abraham Lincoln was dat he Abraham +Lincoln en he de one cause freedom. I recollect dey used +to sing song bout him, but I done forget it now. Say dey +hung Abraham Lincoln on de sour apple tree or old Jeff Davis +or somethin like dat. Honey, dat all I know. Can' recollect +nothin more den dat bout it."</p> + +<p>"Child, dis a pretty bad time de people got dese days, +I tell you. Coase I thankful don' nobody worry me. All treats +me nice, both white en black, what knows me. I be gwine down +de street en folks come out de courthouse en say, 'Ain dat +Mom Jessie? Mom Jessie, don' you remember me?' I say, 'I +know your favor, but I can' call your name.' Dey tell me en +laugh en let me lone. It just like dis, child, I puts my trust +in de Lord en I lives mighty peaceful like. I ain' got a enemy +in de world cause everybody speaks appreciatively of me. Dere +somebody bringin me somethin to eat all de time en I don' be +studyin bout it neither. First one en den de other bring me +a plate en somethin another. Don' want me to do no cookin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +Say I might fall in de fire. Honey, de lady come by here +de other day en tell me I gwine get de old 'oman money +pretty soon now dat dere been so much talk bout. I be +thankful when it get here too, child, cause I wants to +get first one thing en de other to do some fixin up bout +my house."</p> + +<p>"Well, honey, I tired now cause I ain' much today +nohow. Can' recollect nothin else dis mornin. Don' know +what you want to hear bout all dem things for nohow."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source:</span> Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, ex-slave, Bond Street,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Marion, S.C.—Third Report.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Sept., 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, December 7, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in44" id="in44"></a>MOM JESSIE SPARROW<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 83 Years</h3> + + +<p>"No, I ain' cold. I settin in de sun. Miss Ida,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +she went by here just now en call at me bout de door been +open en lettin dat cold wind blow in on my back wid all de +fire gone out. I tell her, it ain' botherin me none, I been +settin out in de sun. Well, I don' feel much to speak bout, +child, but I knockin round somehow. Miss Ida, she bring me +dis paper to study on. She does always be bringin me de Star +cause she know dat I love to see de news of Marion. It right +sad bout de Presbyterian preacher, but everybody got to die, +I say. Right sad though. We hear dat church bell here de +other evenin en we never know what it been tollin for. I +holler over dere to Maggie house en ax her how-come de church +bell tollin, but she couldn' tell me nothin bout it. Reckon +some chillun had get hold of it, she say. I tell her, dat +bell never been pull by no chillun cause I been hear death +note in it. Yes, honey, de people sho gwine horne (grieve) +after Dr. Holladay."</p> + +<p>"I say, I doin very well myself en I thankful I ain' +down in de bed. Mighty thankful I ain' down in de bed en +can set up en talk wid de people when dey comes to see me. +I ain' been up dere on your street in a long time. Can' do +much walkin dese days cause I ain' got no strength to speak +bout. Ain' been up town dere in bout two months. Mr. Jervey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +ax John Evans what de matter dat I ain' been comin to de +store to get my rations en John Evans tell him I been under +de weather. Somehow another, dey all likes me up dere en +when dey don' see me up town on Saturday, dey be axin bout +me. Mr. Jervey, he come here de other day en bring me some +tobacco en syrup en cheese en some of dem other things what +he know dat I used to buy dere. He tell me dey all was wantin +to see me back up dere again. I say, I can' go up dere cause +I give way in my limbs en just comes right down whe' I don' +have nothin to catch to. Got dis old stick here dat I balances +myself on when I goes out round bout de house here. Cose I +don' venture to steady myself no far ways on it."</p> + +<p>"No, child, I ain' been up your way in a long time. I +wash for Miss Betty all my best days, but I ain' been up to +de house in many a mornin. Miss Betty like myself now, she +old. I tell dem up dere to de house, de last time I talk wid +dem, don' mind Miss Betty cause her mind ain' no good. I say, +just gwine on en do what you got to do en let Miss Betty rest. +You see, Miss Betty always would have her way en dis ain' no +time to think bout breakin her neither. Cose I don' know +nothin bout it, but Miss Betty say we bout one age."</p> + +<p>"I reckon Miss Betty got plenty pecans dis year cause +she does rake dem up by de tubfuls bout dis time of de year. +I got my share of dem last year, but I ain' got no mind dat +I gwine get any dis year less I go up dere. Yes, mam, I got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +my share last year cause when I went to carry Miss Betty +washin home, I could pick up all I wanted while I come +through under de trees. My Lord, Miss Betty, she had a +quantity of dem last year, but I ain' hear what de crop +doin dis year. I don' care though cause I wouldn' eat +dem nohow widout I beat dem up en I ain' in no shape to +go to all dat trouble. I loves peanuts good as anybody, +but I couldn' never chew dem widout dey was beat up."</p> + +<p>"Honey, my child en her daughter comin from de +northern states dis Christmas to see me. Her name Evelyn, +but dey call her Missie. She write here dat she want to +come en I tell my Sammie to send word dey is welcome. Cose +dey gwine stay wid my son, Sammie, cause dey got more room +den I is en dey got a cookin stove, too, but she gwine be in +en out here wid her old mammy off en on. Yes'um, I wants to +see her mighty bad since it be dat she been gone from here +so long. When she first went up dere, she worked for a white +family dere to Hartford, Connecticut, but it won' long fore +she got in a fidget to marry en she moved dere to Philadelphia. +Dat whe' she livin now, so my Sammie tell me."</p> + +<p>"Den dere another one of my chillun dat I say, I don' never +'spect to see no more on dis side of de world. Evelina, she +get married en go way out west to live. She de one what used +to nurse Lala up dere to Miss Owens' house. My God, honey, +she been crazy bout Lala. Don' care what she been buy on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +Saturday evenin, she would save some of it till Monday to +carry to dat child. My Evelina, she always would eat en she +used to bring Lala here wid her a heap of times to get somethin +to eat. She would come in en fetch her dat tin plate up dere +full of corn bread en molasses en den she would go to puttin +dem ration way. Would put her own mouth full en den she would +cram some of it down Lala's mouth in de child's belly. You +see, I always would keep a nice kind of syrup in de safe cause +I don' like none dese kind of syrup much, but dis here ribbon +cane syrup. My Lord, dat child would stand up dere en eat +just as long as Evelina poke it down her. Oh, Lala been just +a little thing plunderin bout en I tell Evelina dat she ought +not to feed dat child dem coarse ration, but she say, 'Lala +want some en I gwine give it to her cause I loves her.' No, +child, Miss Owens never didn' worry her mind bout whe' Evelina +been carry dat child. You see, she been put trust in Evelina."</p> + +<p>"I don' know what to tell you, honey. I bout like Miss +Betty now. My 'membrance short dese days. Oh, I hear talk +bout all kind of signs de people used to worry over en some +of dem still frets bout dem, too. Hear talk dat you mustn't +wash none on de New Years' Day. It bad luck, so a heap of dem +say. Den some folks say it a sign of death to hear a owl holler +at night. Some people can' bear to hear dem, but don' no owls +worry me, I say. Lord, Maggie, dis child ax me how a owl holler +when it a sign of death. Well, dey does holler a right good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +space apart. Don' holler right regular. I ain' hear one +holler now in a long time, but I used to hear dem be hollerin +plenty times out dere somewhe' another in dem trees. Say, +when some people been hear dem holler on a night, dey would +stick a fire iron in de fire en dat would make de owl quit +off. I hear talk bout a lot of people would do dat. Den +dere another sign de people does have bout de New Years' Day. +Reckon dat what dey call it, I don' know. No, mam, I don' +understand nothin bout it, but I does hear people speak bout +dey craves to get a cup of peas en a hunk of hog jowl on de +first day of de year. Say, dem what put faith in dem kind of +victuals on de New Years' Day, dey won' suffer for nothin no +time all de next year. Cose I don' know, but I say dat I eats +it cause I loves it."</p> + +<p>"Well, child, dat bout all I know to speak bout dis evenin. +It gettin so cold, I don' know whe' I can manage here much +longer or no. Cose my Sammie, he want me to go stay dere wid +him, but I can' stand no chillun fuss round me no more. I tell +him dese people bout here be in en out to ax bout me right smart +en I think bout I better stay here whe' dere ain' nobody to mind +what I do. You see, honey, old people is troublesome en I don' +want to be noways burdensome to nobody. Yes, mam, I gwine be +right here waitin, if de Lord say so, de next time I see you +makin up dat path."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source:</span> Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, colored, Marion, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview by Annie R. Davis, Dec., 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, October 11, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in45" id="in45"></a>MOM JESSIE SPARROW<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 83 Years</h3> + + +<p>"Good morning, honey, I ain' much today. How you is?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +No, I can' talk nothin bout dem times today. Ain' know no +more den I done tell you. I doin very well considerin I can' +get bout like I wants to. Doin very well, honey. Peoples +mighty nice to me, white en black. Cose I don' venture to +get far off de lot, I be so poorly dese days. Ain' been bout +up town dere in a month since Saturday."</p> + +<p>"Well, my chillun say for me to go live wid dem, but I +don' want to go down to dat other far end of de town. I tell +dem dey worry me so dat I think I rather be here in dis piece +of house. See, I has such good neighbors bout me here en dere +be so much a fightin en gwine on in dat other end of town. All +de peoples speaks well of me, both white en black, of dem dat +knows me. Yes, mam, Miss Ellen tell me fore she die for me to +stay right here in dis house long as I live en ain' nobody is +gwine worry me neither. No, child, Miss Mary Watson don' worry +me, not one speck bout dis house. Miss Mary de only child dat +Miss Ellen got left here. No, honey, I ain' studyin bout gwine +nowhe' yet. Cose de house may fall down on me cause dat dere +old kitchen over dere was good when I come here, but it rot down. +Dat how-come I ain' got no stove. De kitchen rot down en de rain +come in on de stove en rust it out. No, dey don' worry me none. +I tell dem I ain' got nothin, but I settin here just as satisfied +like. Cose I may get a little pension soon, but don' know when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +it gwine get here. I ain' hear tell of nobody gettin it yet. +I tell lady dat come here if I get it, it be all right en if +I don' get it, dat be all right too."</p> + +<p>"Big sale on today, ain' dere, child? I hear talk bout +dey gwine sell all de Witcover property en all dat, but I don' +know. Dey sho got a pretty day for it. I had on my old thick +sweater, but it too hot. I had to pull it off en put on dis +here thin jacket. Can' go bout too naked, honey."</p> + +<p>"Yes'um, I know it was you come here de other night. Cose +I can' see so good, but I can hear de people voice en tell who +dere time I hear dem comin up dat path. You see, I don' light +my lamp first night nohow, dere be so much grass round here de +mosquitoes comes in en worries me right smart."</p> + +<p>"Miss Foxworth en dem fixin to plant dey turnips over dere. +Miss Foxworth, I likes her very well to speak. She good-hearted, +kind en clever. She comes over en talks wid me often cause us +been friends ever since fore de old man been gone. Dey ain' got +no kind of garden yet, but dey fixin to plant a fall garden out +dere."</p> + +<p>"No, child, I done put Miss Betty clothes down. Tell her +I ain' able to wash no more en my Lord, Miss Betty sho hate to +hear me say dat. Won' dat Miss Betty clothes was so hard, but +it was de totin dem back en forth en den dere be so little bit +of money in dem, didn' pay to hire nobody to carry dem. Cose +she didn' pay me nothin worth much cause she didn' never have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +nothin much, but a little changin of underclothes en bout +one dress. Just had to starch bout one petticoat en one dress, +but I can' hardly wash for myself dese days en I wouldn' never +venture to do hers no more. No, honey, my conscience wouldn' +allow me to overpower Miss Betty for dem little bit of somethin +en dey ain' dirty neither. You see, since Miss Emma been stayin +dere, she in charge de house en uses all her tablecloths en such +as dat. Miss Emma, she mighty nice to me. Every time I go up +dere en I ain' been doin nothin for her neither, she see can +she find a cup of fresh milk or somethin another to hand me."</p> + +<p>"Reckon I gwine be lonesome right bout dis side next week +cause all de colored schools gwine be open up Monday. You see, +dere be so many school chillun en teacher livin on dis here +street. Dat child over dere say she gwine be home right sharp +after she be finish pickin cotton next week. I say I ain' be +obliged to leave dis country cause my white folks wouldn' never +venture to come dere to dat other end of town to see me. All +dese chillun bout here mighty good to me. Don' never let me +suffer for nothin. Dey caution me not to risk to cook nothin +over dat fireplace cause dey say I might tumble over en can' +catch myself. No, dey tell me don' do no cookin, I might fall +in en burn up. No, child, I ain' chance to cook none on dat +fireplace since I been sick. Different ones brings me somethin +dis day en dat day. Don' suspicion nothin bout it till I see +dem comin. Celeste over dere brings me breakfast en dinner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +every day en I don' never bother wid no supper cause I lays +down too early. Den dey keeps me in plenty bread en rolls +en I keeps a little syrup on hand en eats dat if I gets hungry. +Dere Marguerite all de time bringin me somethin, if it ain' +nothin but a pitcher of ice. You see, dey makes dey ice en it +ain' costin her nothin. When I see her turn out dat piazza, I +know she comin here. I ain' see her today, but I lookin for +her. Used to wash for dem too. Honey, I done a lot of work +bout dis town en I don' suffer for nothin. All de people bout +here be good to me."</p> + +<p>"No, mam, I ain' gwine let you take no more pictures. Ain' +gwine take no more. If Miss Montgomery say she comin here to +take more pictures, tell her I ain' gwine take no more. No, +child, I ain' studyin bout no pictures. I don' want no more. +I got one big one up dere on de wall dat show me en my mammy +en my son, Sammie, settin in a automobile. Dat my picture +settin up dere wid de white blouse on. I tell dem I look like +somethin den, but I too old en broke up now. My daughter, she +want a picture en she kept on after us till we went up dere to +whe' de carnival was. Carnival man had a automobile dat he take +your picture in en we get in en set down en he snap de picture. +I tell dem dey got one now en dat ought to be sufficient. Dat +my mammy settin dere by me. She was sho a fine lookin woman. +Lord, Lord, honey, dem chillun love dem pictures, but I ain' +studyin bout wantin my picture scatter all bout de country."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, child, I sleeps all right. Go to bed early too +fore anybody else round here do. Yes, mam, I goes to bed +early en don' never get up none till I see day shine in dem +cracks. I was figurin somebody else ax me dat de other day. +Believe it was Dr. Dibble. My Sammie, he a mammy child. He +never stop till he send de doctor here to see could he find +out de ailment dat seem like was eatin me way. Dr. Dibble +come here en set down in dat chair en ax me a heap of questions. +Den he test my blood en give me a tonic dat he say would hope +me. Yes, mam, dat my Sammie doctor en he goes to see him often, +he does have such a misery in his head. Dat de first time Dr. +Dibble ever been here, but I likes he manner mighty well. Dr. +Zack was a good doctor too. Cose dat what dey tell me, but I +ain' know nothin bout it. No, child, I been healthy all my +days en I ain' had to worry bout no doctor. I tells dem when +I falls down, I won' last long cause I been hearty all my days."</p> + +<p>"Your sister still in Dr. Dibble store (office), ain' she? +Is she got a cook yet? Dat it, I glad she got somebody to depend +on cause dese young people, can' tell bout dem. Dey be +one place today en den dey apt to be another place de next day. +I used to cook dere to lady house cross de street, but I never +didn' cook no Sunday dinner dere. Dat lady been take in sewin +en she would sew en press right on de big Sunday. I tell her +dat a sin en she say she had to get finish somehow dat de folks +was pushin her for dey clothes. I say, 'Well, dat you, ain' me.' +I go dere on Sunday mornin en cook breakfast en clean up en put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +wood in de kitchen. Den I would go to church en left dem to +cook what dinner dey get. Dat de reason I won' cook for none +dese white folks dis day en time cause when dey pays you dat +little bit of money, dey wants every bit your time. I been +proud when dat lady move from here cause I was tired walkin +de road back en forth. People come here en beg me to cook +for dem, but I tell dem I gwine stay right here en do my bit +of washin. Gwine get along somehow wid it."</p> + +<p>"Bethel, down dere on de other side de jail, de only church +I ever been a member of. We got to fix us church twixt now en +next year. It need fixin bad. You see, it right on de Main +street gwine down en does be right public out to de people. +I was fixin to go to church Sunday gone, but my child never +come after me. My son, Sammie, never show up, but he come +Sunday evenin laughin. Say, 'Ma, I know if I come by your +house, you would want to go wid me.' No, I ain' been so I +able to go in four Sundays."</p> + +<p>"Child, you ought to had brought your parasol wid you +cause you been settin here so long, you gwine be late gettin +whe' you started. Dis here another hot day we got come here."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-day, child. Speak bout how you is find Maggie +Black to me when you pass back long dat street dere."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source:</span> Mom Jessie Sparrow, ex-slave, 83 years, Marion, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, October, 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in46" id="in46"></a>ROSA STARKE<br /> +<br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Rosa's grandfather was a slave of Solicitor Starke. Although she has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +had two husbands since slavery, she has thrown their names into the discard +and goes by the name of Rosa Starke. She lives in a three-room frame house +with her son, John Harrison, two miles south of Winnsboro, S.C., on the plantation +of Mrs. Rebecca V. Woodward. She still does farm work, hoeing and picking +cotton.</p> + +<p>"They say I was six years old when de war commence poppin' in Charleston. +Mammy and pappy say dat I was born on de Graham place, one of de nineteen plantations +of my old marster, Nick Peay, in 1854. My pappy was name Bob and my +mammy name Salina. They had b'longed to old Marse Tom Starke befo' old Marse +Nick bought them. My brudders was name Bob and John. I had a sister name Carrie. +They was all older than me.</p> + +<p>"My marster, Nick Peay, had nineteen places, wid a overseer and slave quarters +on every place. Folks dat knows will tell you, dis day, dat them nineteen +plantations, in all, was twenty-seven thousand acres. He had a thousand slaves, +more or less, too many to take a census of. Befo' de numerator git 'round, some +more would be born or bought, and de nominator had to be sent 'round by Marse +Nick, so old Miss Martha, our mistress, say. Her never could know just how many +'twas. Folks used to come to see her and ask how many they had and her say it +was one of them sums in de 'rithmetic dat a body never could take a slate and +pencil and find out de correct answer to.</p> + +<p>"Her was a Adamson befo' her marry old marster, a grand big buckra. Had +a grand manner; no patience wid poor white folks. They couldn't come in de front +yard; they knowed to pass on by to de lot, hitch up deir hoss, and come knock on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +de kitchen door and make deir wants and wishes knowed to de butler.</p> + +<p>"You wants me to tell 'bout what kind of house us niggers live in then? +Well, it 'pend on de nigger and what him was doin'. Dere was just two classes +to de white folks, buckra slave owners and poor white folks dat didn't own no +slaves. Dere was more classes 'mongst de slaves. De fust class was de house +servants. Dese was de butler, de maids, de nurses, chambermaids, and de cooks. +De nex' class was de carriage drivers and de gardeners, de carpenters, de barber, +and de stable men. Then come de nex' class de wheelwright, wagoners, +blacksmiths and slave foremen. De nex' class I 'members was de cow men and de +niggers dat have care of de dogs. All dese have good houses and never have to +work hard or git a beatin'. Then come de cradlers of de wheat, de threshers, +and de millers of de corn and de wheat, and de feeders of de cotton gin. De lowest +class was de common field niggers. A house nigger man might swoop down and +mate wid a field hand's good lookin' daughter, now and then, for pure love of +her, but you never see a house gal lower herself by marryin' and matin' wid a +common field-hand nigger. Dat offend de white folks, 'specially de young misses, +who liked de business of match makin' and matin' of de young slaves.</p> + +<p>"My young marsters was Marse Tom, Marse Nick, and Marse Austin. My young +misses was Miss Martha, Miss Mary, and Miss Anne Eliza. I knows Marse Nick, Jr. +marry a Cunningham of Liberty Hill. Marse Tom marry a Lyles and Marse Austin +marry and move to Abbeville, after de war. Old marster die de year befo' de +war, I think, 'cause my mammy and pappy fell in de division to Marse Nick and us +leave de Graham place to go to de home place. It was called de Melrose place. +And what a place dat was! 'Twas on a hill, overlookin' de place where de Longtown +Presbyterian Church and cemetery is today. Dere was thirty rooms in it +and a fish pond on top of it. A flower yard stretchin' clean down de hill to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +de big road, where de big gate, hangin' on big granite pillars, swung open to +let de carriages, buggies, and wagons in and up to de house.</p> + +<p>"Can I tell you some of de things dat was in dat house when de Yankees +come? Golly no! Dat I can't, but I 'members some things dat would 'stonish you +as it 'stonished them. They had Marseille carpets, linen table cloths, two silver +candlesticks in every room, four wine decanters, four nut crackers, and two coffee +pots, all of them silver. Silver castors for pepper, salt, and vinegar bottles. +All de plates was china. Ninety-eight silver forks, knives, teaspoons and table-spoons. +Four silver ladles, six silver sugar tongs, silver goblets, a silver mustard +pot and two silver fruit stands. All de fireplaces had brass firedogs and +marble mantelpieces. Dere was four oil paintin's in de hall; each cost, so Marse +Nick say, one hundred dollars. One was his ma, one was his pa, one was his Uncle +Austin and de other was of Colonel Lamar.</p> + +<p>"De smoke-house had four rooms and a cellar. One room, every year, was +filled wid brown sugar just shoveled in wid spades. In winter they would drive up +a drove of hogs from each plantation, kill them, scald de hair off them, and pack +de meat away in salt, and hang up de hams and shoulders 'round and 'bout de smokehouse. +Most of de rum and wine was kep' in barrels, in de cellar, but dere was a +closet in de house where whiskey and brandy was kep' for quick use. All back on +de east side of de mansion was de garden and terraces, acres of sweet 'taters, +water millions (watermelons) and strawberries and two long rows of beehives.</p> + +<p>"Old marster die. De 'praisers of de State come and figure dat his mules, +niggers, cows, hogs, and things was worth $200,000.00. Land and houses I disremember +'bout. They, anyhow, say de property was over a million dollars. They put a price +of $1,600.00 on mammy and $1,800.00 on pappy. I 'member they say I was worth +$400.00. Young Marse Nick tell us dat the personal property of de estate was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +'praised at $288,168.78.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<p>"De Yankees come set all de cotton and de gin-house afire. Load up all +de meat; take some of de sugar and shovel some over de yard; take all de wine, +rum, and liquor; gut de house of all de silver and valuables, set it afire, and +leave one thousand niggers cold and hongry, and our white folks in a misery they +never has got over to de third generation of them. Some of them is de poorest +white folks in dis State today. I weeps when I sees them so poor, but they is +'spectable yet, thank God.</p> + +<p>"After de war I stuck to de Peay white folks, 'til I got married to Will +Harrison. I can't say I love him, though he was de father of all my chillun. My +pappy, you know, was a half white man. Maybe dat explain it. Anyhow, when he +took de fever I sent for Dr. Gibson, 'tend him faithful but he die and I felt more +like I was free, when I come back from de funeral, than I did when Marse Abe +Lincoln set us free. My brudder, Bob, had done gone to Florida.</p> + +<p>"I nex' marry, in a half-hearted way, John Pearson, to help take care of +me and my three chillun, John, Bob, and Carrie. Him take pneumonia and die, and +I never have a speck of heart to marry a colored man since. I just have a mind +to wait for de proper sort, till I git to heaven, but dese adult teachers 'stroy +dat hope. They read me dat dere is no marryin' in heaven. Well, well, dat'll be +a great disappointment to some I knows, both white and black, and de ginger-cake +women lak me.</p> + +<p>"Is I got any more to tell you? Just dis: Dere was 365 windows and doors +to Marse Nick Peay's house at Melrose, one for every day in de year, my mistress +'low. And dere was a peach tree in de orchard so grafted dat dat peach tree have +ripe peaches on it in May, June, July, August, September, and October."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in47" id="in47"></a>JOSEPHINE STEWART<br /> +<br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 85 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Phinie Stewart, as she is known in the community where she lives,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +is a small, black negress, who shows her age in appearance and movements. +She lives with Robert Wood, a hundred yards back of the Presbyterian +Church manse at Blackstock, S.C. Robert Wood married Phinie's niece, +who is now deceased. Phinie has no property, and depends entirely on +the charity of Robert Wood for her support.</p> + +<p>"Does you know where de old Bell House is, about a mile de other +side of Blackstock, on de Chester road? Yes? Well, dere is where I was +borned, in May, 1853.</p> + +<p>"I doesn't know who my pappy was. You know in them times folks +wasn't particular 'bout marriage licenses and de preacher tying de knot +and all dat kind of thing. But I does know mammy's name. Her name was +Celie. Dese eyes of mine is dim but I can see her now, stooping over de +wash tub and washing de white folks' clothes every Monday and Tuesday.</p> + +<p>"Us belonged to Marster Charlie Bell and his lady, Miss Maggie Bell, +our mistress in them slavery days. Does I 'member who Miss Maggie was befo' +her married Marster Charlie? Sure I does. Mistress was a daughter of Miss +Anne Jane Neil, who lived to be a hundred and five years old, and its writ +on her tombstone in Concord Cemetery. I 'spect you has seen it, ain't you? +Old Miss Anne Neil was a Irish lady, born in Ireland across de ocean. She +had a silver snuff box; I seen it. She'd take snuff out dat box, rub it up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +her nose and say: 'De Prince of Whales (Wales) give me dis box befo' +I come to dis country, and I was presented to his ma, Queen Victoria, by +de Duke of Wellington on my sixteenth birthday.' Old Miss Anne Neil +claims she was born over dere de very night of de battle of Waterloo. +And she would go on and 'low dat when de duke took her by de hand and +led her up to de queen, him say: 'Your Majesty, dis young lady was +born on de night of our great victory at Waterloo.'</p> + +<p>"My young mistress was named Miss Margaret. She married Marse +Wade Brice. I was give to them when I was 'bout five years old and I +went along with them to Woodward, S.C. My mammy was give to them, too, +at de same time. Us lived in Marse Wade's quarter, to de east of de +white folks' house. Dere was a row of log houses, 'bout ten I think. +Mammy and me lived in one dat had two rooms. De chimney was made of +sticks and mud, but de floor was a good plank floor. De bed was a wood +bedstead wid a wheat straw tick. Dere was no windows to de house, so it +was warm in de winter time and blue blazing hot in de summer time.</p> + +<p>"My white folks was mighty good to us; they fed us well. Us had +wooden shoes and no clothes a-tall in de summer, 'cept a one-piece slip +on. My mistress die 'bout a year after her marry, and then Marster Wade +marry Miss Tilda Watson, a perfect angel, if dere ever was one on dis +red earth. She take a liking to me right at de jump, on first sight. +I nussed all her chillun. They was Walter, Ida, Dickey, Lunsford, Wade, +Mike, and Wilson. Then I nussed some of her grandchillun. Mr. Brice +Waters in Columbia is one of them grandchillun.</p> + +<p>"Marse Wade went off to de war and got shot in de hip, but he +jined de calvary (cavalry) soon after and was away when de Yankees come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +through. De Yankees burned and stole everything on de place. They took +off all de sheep, mules, and cows; killed all de hogs; cotch all de chickens, +ducks and geese; and shot de turkeys and tied them to deir saddles as +they left. De gin-house made de biggest blaze I ever has seen. Dere was +short rations for all de white folks and niggers after dat day.</p> + +<p>"In 1870 I was still dere wid Marse Wade and Miss Tilda, when de +devil come along in de shape, form, and fashion of a man. He was name Simon +Halleg. I was young then, and a fool, when I married dat no 'count nigger. +Us had two chillun, a boy, Allen, and a girl, Louise. Louise sickened and +died befo' she was grown. Allen married and had one child, but him and de +child are dead. My husband run away and left us.</p> + +<p>"About de time of de great cyclone, Miss Tatt Nicholson, a cousin of +Miss Tilda, come down and took me to Chester, to be a maid at de Nicholson +Hotel. I liked de work, but I got many a scare while I was dere. In them +days every hotel had a bar where they would mix whiskey and lemons. Men +could just walk up, put deir foots on de brass rail of de bar counter and +order what they want, and pay fifteen cents a drink. Sometimes they would +play cards all night in de bar. One night an old gent stopped his wagon, +dat had four bales of cotton on it, befo' de hotel. He come in to get a +drink, saw a game going on and took a hand. Befo' bed time he had lost +all his money and de four bales of cotton outside.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't work in slavery times. Chillun didn't have to work. +De only thing I 'members doing was minding de flies off de table wid a +brush made out of peacock tail-feathers.</p> + +<p>"All de slaves had to go to church at Concord twice every month and +learn de Shorter Catechism. I has one of them books now, dat I used seventy-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>five +years ago. Want to see it? (She exhibits catechism printed in 1840 +for slaves.)</p> + +<p>"I left de hotel and come back to Miss Tilda Brice. I married Jacob +Stewart then, and he was a good man. Us had no chillun. He been gone to +glory eight years, bless God.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I 'members de earthquake. It set a heap of people to +praying dat night. Even de cows and chickens got excited. I thought de +end of de world had come. I jined de Red Hill Baptist Church then, but +my membership is now at de Cross Roads Baptist Church. Brother Wright, de +pastor, comes to see me, as I'm too feeble to gallivant so far to church.</p> + +<p>"Dis house b'longs to Joe Rice. My nephew rents from him and is +good enough, though a poor man, to take care of me.</p> + +<p>"Please do all you can to get de good President, de Governor, or +somebody to hasten up my old age pension dat I'm praying for."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>May 24, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in48" id="in48"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I was born near old Bush River Baptist Church in Newberry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +County, S.C. This was the white folks' church, but the +colored folks have a Bush River church in that section now. I +was grown when the war started. I was a slave of Bonny Floyd. +He was a good man who owned several slaves and a big farm. I +was the house-girl then, and waited on the table and helped +around the house. I was always told to go to the white folks' +church and sit in the gallery.</p> + +<p>"When the Patrollers was started there, they never did +bother Mr. Bonny's slaves. He never had any trouble with them, +for his slaves never run away from him.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux never come to our place, and I don't remember +seeing them in that section.</p> + +<p>"We took our wheat to Singley's Mill on Bush River to be +ground. We made all our flour and grain. We plowed with horses +and mules.</p> + +<p>"I am an old woman, sick in bed and can't talk good; but +glad to tell you anything I can."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Bettie Suber (96), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (5/18/37).</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>May 25, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in49" id="in49"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I was born on the Enoree River in Newberry County. Tom Price<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +was my master. I married Nathan Swindler when I was about grown. My +father and mother was Dave and Lucy Coleman. I had a brother and +several sisters. We children had to work around the home of our master +'till we was old enough to work in de fields, den we would hoe +and pick cotton, and do any kinds of field work. We didn't have much +clothes, just one dress and a pair of shoes at a time, and maybe one +change. I married in a ole silk striped dress dat I got from my mistress, +Miss Sligh. We had no 'big-to-do' at our wedding, just married +at home. In cold weather, I had sometimes, heavy homespun or +outing dress. When Saturday afternoons come, we got off from work +and do what we want. Some of us washed for de week. We had no schools +and couldn't read and write. Sometimes we could play in our yards +after work was over or on Saturday afternoons. On Christmas the master +give us something good to eat. We didn't have doctors much, but +de ole folks had cures for sickness. Dey made cherry-bark tea for +chills and fever, and root-herb teas for fevers. Lots of chills and +fevers then. To cure a boil or wart, we would take a hair from the +tail of a horse and tie it tight around both sides of the sore place. +I think Abe Lincoln was a great man, and Jeff Davis was a good man +too. I think Booker Washington was a great man for de colored race. +I like it better now than de way it was in slavery time."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Ellen Swindler (78), Newberry. S.C. Interviewed by:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C., May 20, 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon,</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">MACK TAYLOR<br /><br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in50" id="in50"></a>EX-SLAVE 97 YEARS.</span></h3> + + + +<p>Mack Taylor lives six miles southeast of Ridgeway, S.C., on his farm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +of ninety-seven acres. The house, in which he resides, is a frame house containing +six rooms, all on one floor. His son, Charley, lives with him. Charley +is married and has a small family.</p> + +<p>"Howdy do sir! I sees you a good deal goin' backwards and forwards to +Columbia. I has to set way back in de bus and you sets up to de front. I can't +ketch you to speak to you, as you is out and gone befo' I can lay hold of you. +But, as Brer Fox 'lowed to Brer Rabbit, when he ketched him wid a tar baby at +a spring, 'I is got you now.'</p> + +<p>"I's been wantin' to ask you 'bout dis old age pension. I's been to +Winnsboro to see 'bout it. Some nice white ladies took my name and ask me some +questions, but dat seem to be de last of it. Reckon I gwine to get anything?</p> + +<p>"Well, I's been here mighty nigh a hundred years, and just 'cause I +pinched and saved and didn't throw my money away on liquor, or put it into +de palms of every Jezabel hussy dat slant her eye at me, ain't no valuable +reason why them dat did dat way and 'joyed deirselves can get de pension and +me can't get de pension. 'Tain't fair! No, sir. If I had a knowed way back yonder, +fifty years ago, what I knows now, I might of gallavanted 'round a little +more wid de shemales than I did. What you think 'bout it?</p> + +<p>"You say I's forgittin' dat religion must be thought about? Well, I can +read de Bible a little bit. Don't it say: 'What you sow you sure to reap?' +Yes, sir. Us niggers was fetched here 'ginst our taste. Us fell de forests +for corn, wheat, oats, and cotton; drained de swamps for rice; built de dirt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +roads and de railroads; and us old ones is got a fair right to our part of +de pension.</p> + +<p>"My marster, in slavery times, lived on de Wateree River. He had a +large plantation and, I heard them say, four hundred slaves. He was a hard +marster and had me whipped as many times as I got fingers and toes. I started +workin' in de field when I was a boy fifteen years old. De work I done was +choppin' de grass out of de cotton and pickin' de cotton. What's become of +them old army worms dat had horns, dat us chillun was so scared of while +pickin' cotton? I never see them dese days but I'd rather have them than dis +boll weevil I's pestered wid.</p> + +<p>"My marster's name was Tom Clark. My mistress was a gentle lady, but +field niggers never got to speak to her. All I can say is dat de house slaves +say she was mighty good to them. I saw de chillun of de white folks often and +was glad they would play wid us colored chillun. What deir names? Dere was +Marse Alley, Marse Ovid, Marse Hilliard, and Miss Lucy.</p> + +<p>"Old marster got kilt in de last year of de war, and Miss Margaret, +dat was our Mistress, run de place wid overseers dat would thrash you for +all sorts of things. If they ketch you leanin' on your hoe handle, they'd +beat you; step out of your task a minute or speak to a girl, they'd beat you. +Oh, it was hell when de overseers was around and de mistress nor none of de +young marsters was dere to protect you. Us was fed good, but not clothed so +good in de winter time.</p> + +<p>"My pappy didn't b'long to de Clarks at de commencement of de war. Old +marster done sold him, 'way from us, to Col. Tom Taylor in Columbia. After de +war, he run a shoe repair shop in Columbia many years befo' he died. His name +was Douglas Taylor and dat is de reason I took de name, Mack Taylor, when I +give in my name to de Freedman's Bureau, and I's stuck to it ever since.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I members de Yankees. Not many of them come to Miss Margaret's place. +Them dat did, took pity on her and did nothing but eat, feed deir horses, and +gallop away.</p> + +<p>"Us was never pestered by de Ku Klux, but I was given a warnin' once, +to watch my step and vote right. I watched my step and didn't vote a-tall, dat +year.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Franklin J. Moses was runnin' for governor. Colored preachers was +preachin' dat he was de Moses to lead de Negroes out of de wilderness of corn +bread and fat grease into de land of white bread and New Orleans molasses. De +preachers sure got up de excitement 'mongst de colored women folks. They 'vised +them to have nothin' to do wid deir husbands if they didn't go to de 'lection +box and vote for Moses. I didn't go, and my wife wouldn't sleep wid me for six +months. I had no chillun by her. She died in 1874. After Nancy die, I marry +Belle Dawkins. De chillun us had was George, Charley, Maggie and Tommy. Then +Belle died, and I married Hannah Cunningham. Us had no chillun. After she died, +I marry a widow, Fannie Goings, and us had no chillun.</p> + +<p>"My son, George, is in Washington. My daughter, Maggie, is dead. Tommy +was in Ohio de last I heard from him. I is livin' wid my son, Charley, on my +farm. My grandson, Mack, is a grown boy and de main staff I lean on as I climb +up to de hundred mile post of age.</p> + +<p>"I b'longs to de Rehovah Baptist Church. I have laid away four wives in +deir graves. I have no notion of marryin' any more. Goodness and mercy have +followed me all de days of my life, and I will soon take up dis old body and +dwell in de house of de Lord forevermore."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">DELIA THOMPSON<br /><br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in51" id="in51"></a>EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + + +<p>"I's heard tell of you, and sent for you to come to see me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +Look lak I can no more git 'bout on dese under pins lak I use to. Dere's +de swing you can set in or chair right by me, now which you rather? I's +glad you takes de chair, 'cause I can keep steady gaze more better on dat +face of your'n. Lord! I been here in dis world a long time, so I has. Was +born on de Kilgo place near Liberty Hill, don't know what county 'tis, but +heard it am over twenty-five miles from dis town.</p> + +<p>"My old marster name Jesse Kilgo, so he was, and Mistress Letha +Kilgo, dats his wife, good to him, good to me, good to everybody. My young +mistress name Catherine, when her marry Marster Watt Wardlaw, I was give to +them for a housemaid, 'cause I was trim and light complected lak you see I +is dis very day a setting right here, and talking wid you. 'Members how +'twas young missie say: 'You come go in my room Delia, I wants to see if I +can put up wid you'. I goes in dat room, winter time mind you, and Miss +Charlotte set down befo' de fire, cook one of them pretty foots on de dog, +don't you ketch dat wrong, dat it was a lap dog which 'twasn't but one of +de fire-dogs. Some persons calls them andy irons (andiron) but I sticks +to my raisin' and say fire-dogs. Well, she allowed to me, 'Delia, put +kettle water on de fire'. So I does in a jiffy. Her next command was: +'Would you please be so kind as to sweep and tidy up de room'? All time +turnin' dat lovely head of her'n lak a bird a buildin' her nest, so it was. +I do all dat, then she say: 'You is goin' to make maid, a good one!' She +give a silvery giggle and say: 'I just had you put on dat water for to see +if you was goin' to make any slop. No, No! You didn't spill a drop, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +ain't goin' to make no sloppy maid, you just fine.' Then her call +her mother in. 'See how pretty Delia's made dis room, look at them +curtains, draw back just right, observe de pitcher, and de towels on +de rack of de washstand, my I'm proud of her!' She give old mistress +a hug and a kiss, and thank her for de present, dat present was me. De +happiness of dat minute is on me to dis day.</p> + +<p>"My pappy name Isom then, but when freedom come he adds on Hammond. +His pappy was a white man, and no poor white trash neither. My mammy +name Viny. Us live in a log house close up in de back yard, and most all +time I was in de big house waiting on de white folks.</p> + +<p>"Did us git any 'ligion told us? Well, it was dis way, mistress +talk heap to us 'bout de Lord, but marster talk a heap to us 'bout de +devil. 'Twist and 'tween them, 'spect us heard most everything 'bout +heaven and all 'bout de devil.</p> + +<p>"Yankees dat come to our house was gentleman, they never took a +thing, but left provisions for our women folks from their commissary.</p> + +<p>"My first husband was Cupid Benjamin. My white folks give me a +white dress, and they got de white Baptist preacher, Mr. Collins to do +de grand act for us. Cupid turned out to be a preacher. Us had three +chillun and every night us had family worship at home. I's been no common +nigger all my life; why, when a child I set up and rock my doll just lak +white chillun, and course it was a rag doll, but what of dat. Couldn't I +name her for de Virgin Mary, and wouldn't dat name cover and glorify de +rags? Sure it would! Then I 'sociate wid white folks all slavery time, +marry a man of God and when he die, I marry another, Tom Thompson, a +colored Baptist preacher. You see dat house yonder? Dats where my daugh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>ter +and grandchillun live. They is colored aristocracy of de town, but +they has a mighty plain name, its just Smith. I grieve over it off and +on, a kind of thorn in de flesh, my husband used to say. But both my +husbands dead and I sets here twice a widow, and I wonders how 'twill be +when I go home up yonder 'bove them white thunder heads us can see right +now. Which one them men you reckon I'll see first? Well, if it be dat +way, 'spect I'll just want to see Cupid first, 'cause he was de only one +I had chillun by, and them his grandchillun out yonder."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">ROBERT TOATLEY<br /><br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in52" id="in52"></a>EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Robert Toatley lives with his daughter, his son, his son's wife,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +and their six children, near White Oak, seven miles north of Winnsboro, S.C. +Robert owns the four-room frame house and farm containing 235 acres. He has +been prosperous up from slavery, until the boll weevil made its appearance on +his farm and the depression came on the country at large, in 1929. He has +been compelled to mortgage his home but is now coming forward again, having +reduced the mortgage to a negligible balance, which he expects to liquidate +with the present 1937 crop of cotton.</p> + +<p>Robert is one of the full blooded Negroes of pure African descent. +His face, in repose, possesses a kind of majesty that one would expect in beholding +a chief of an African tribe.</p> + +<p>"I was born on de 'Lizabeth Mobley place. Us always called it +'Cedar Shades'. Dere was a half mile of cedars on both sides of de road leading +to de fine house dat our white folks lived in. My birthday was May 15, +1855. My mistress was a daughter of Dr. John Glover. My master married her +when her was twelve years old. Her first child, Sam, got to be a doctor, and +they sho' did look lak brother and sister. When her oldest child, Sam, come +back from college, he fetched a classmate, Jim Carlisle, wid him. I played +marbles wid them. Dat boy, Jim, made his mark, got 'ligion, and went to de top +of a college in Spartanburg. Marse Sam study to be a doctor. He start to practice +and then he marry Miss Lizzie Rice down in Barnwell. Mistress give me to +them and I went wid them and stayed 'til freedom.</p> + +<p>"My childhood was a happy one, a playin' and a rompin' wid de white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +chillun. My master was rich. Slaves lived in quarters, 300 yards from de +big house. A street run through the quarters, homes on each side. Beds was +homemade. Mattresses made of wheat straw. Bed covers was quilts and counter-panes, +all made by slave women.</p> + +<p>"My mammy's pappy was a slave brick-mason, b'longin' to a white +family named Partillo, from Warrington, Virginia. He couldn't be bought 'less +you bought his wife and three chillun wid him.</p> + +<p>"Never had any money; didn't know what it was. Mammy was a house +woman, and I got just what de white chillun got to eat, only a little bit later, +in de kitchen. Dere was fifty or sixty other little niggers on de place. Want +to know how they was fed? Well, it was lak dis: You've seen pig troughs, side +by side, in a big lot? After all de grown niggers eat and git out de way, +scraps and everything eatable was put in them troughs; sometimes buttermilk poured +on de mess and sometimes potlicker. Then de cook blowed a cow horn. Quick +as lightnin' a passle of fifty or sixty little niggers run out de plum bushes, +from under de sheds and houses, and from everywhere. Each one take his place, +and souse his hands in de mixture and eat just lak you see pigs shovin' 'round +slop troughs. I see dat sight many times in my dreams, old as I is, eighty-two +years last Saturday.</p> + +<p>"'Twas not 'til de year of '66 dat we got 'liable info'mation and felt +free to go where us pleased to go. Most of de niggers left but mammy stayed +on and cooked for Dr. Sam and de white folks.</p> + +<p>"Bad white folks comed and got bad niggers started. Soon things got +wrong and de devil took a hand in de mess. Out of it come to de top, de carpet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>bag, +de scalawags and then de Ku Klux. Night rider come by and drap something +at your door and say: 'I'll just leave you something for dinner'. Then ride +off in a gallop. When you open de sack, what you reckon in dere? Liable to +be one thing, liable to be another. One time it was six nigger heads dat was +left at de door. Was it at my house door? Oh, no! It was at de door of a +nigger too active in politics. Old Congressman Wallace sent Yankee troops, +three miles long, down here. Lot of white folks was put in jail.</p> + +<p>"I married Emma Greer in 1879; she been dead two years. Us lived husband +and wife 56 years, bless God. Us raised ten chillun; all is doin' well. +One is in Winnsboro, one in Chester, one in Rock Hill, one in Charlotte, one +in Chesterfield, one in New York and two wid me on de farm near White Oak, +which I own. I has 28 grandchillun. All us Presbyterians. Can read but +can't write. Our slaves was told if ever they learned to write they'd lose +de hand or arm they wrote wid.</p> + +<p>"What 'bout whuppin's? Plenty of it. De biggest whuppin' I ever heard +tell of was when they had a trial of several slave men for sellin' liquor at +da spring, durin' preachin', on Sunday. De trial come off at de church 'bout +a month later. They was convicted, and de order of de court was: Edmund to +receive 100 lashes; Sam and Andy each 125 lashes and Frank and Abram 75 lashes. +All to be given on deir bare backs and rumps, well laid on wid strap. If de +courts would sentence like dat dese days dere'd be more 'tention to de law.</p> + +<p>"You ask me 'bout Mr. Lincoln. I knowed two men who split rails side +by side wid him. They was Mr. McBride Smith and Mr. David Pink. Poor white +people 'round in slavery time had a hard tine, and dese was two of them.</p> + +<p>"My white folks, de Mobleys, made us work on Sunday sometime, wid de +fodder, and when de plowin' git behind. They mighty neighborly to rich neighbors +but didn't have much time for poor buckra. I tell you poor white men have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +poor chance to rise, make sump'n and be sump'n, befo' de old war. Some of +dese same poor buckra done had a chance since then and they way up in 'G' +now. They mighty nigh run de county and town of Winnsboro, plum mighty nigh +it, I tell you. It makes me sad, on de other side, to see quality folks befo' +de war, a wanderin' 'round in rags and tatters and deir chillun beggin' bread.</p> + +<p>"Well, I mus' be goin', but befo' I goes I want to tell you I 'members +your ma, Miss Sallie Woodward. Your grandpa was de closest neighbor and fust +cousin to Dr. Sam. Deir chillun used to visit. Your ma come down and spen' +de day one time. She was 'bout ten dat day and she and de chillun make me +rig up some harness for de billy goat and hitch him to a toy wagon. I can +just see dat goat runnin' away, them little chillun fallin' out backside de +wagon and your ma laughin' and a cryin' 'bout de same time. I picks her up +out de weeds and briars."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>May 25, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in53" id="in53"></a>SLAVERY REMINISCENCES</h3> + + + +<p>"I was born in the town of Newberry, S.C. I do not remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +slavery time, but I have heard my father and mother talk +about it. They were Washington and Polly Holloway, and belonged +to Judge J.B. O'Neall. They lived about 3 miles west of town, +near Bush River. An old colored man lived nearby. His name was +Harry O'Neall, and everybody said he was a miser and saved up +his money and buried it near the O'Neall spring. Somebody dug +around there but never found any money. There were two springs, +one was called 'horse spring', but the one where the money was +supposed to be buried had a big tree by it.</p> + +<p>"I married Sam Veals, in 'gravel town' of Newberry. I had +a brother, Riley, and some sisters.</p> + +<p>"We would eat fish, rabbits, 'possums and squirrels which +folks caught or killed. We used to travel most by foot, going +sometimes ten miles to any place. We walked to school, three or +four miles, every day when I was teaching school after the war. +I was taught mostly at home, by Miss Sallie O'Neall, a daughter +of Judge J.B. O'Neall.</p> + +<p>"My father and mother used to go to the white folks' +church, in slavery time. After the war colored churches started. +The first one in our section was Brush Harbor. Simon Miller +was a fine colored preacher who preached in Brush Harbor on +Vandalusah Spring Hill. Isaac Cook was a good preacher. We +used to sing, 'Gimme dat good ole-time religion'; 'I'm going +to serve God until I die' and 'I am glad salvation is free'.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Saturday afternoons we had 'off' and could work for +ourselves. At marriages, we had frolics and big dinners. Some +of the games were: rope jumping; hide and seek, and, ring around +the roses. Of course, there were more games.</p> + +<p>"Some of the old folks used to see ghosts, but I never +did see any.</p> + +<p>"Cures were made with herbs such as, peach tree leaves, +boiled as a tea and drunk for fevers. Rabbit tobacco (life everlasting) +was used for colds. Small boys would chew and smoke it, +as did some of the old folks.</p> + +<p>"I have seven children, all grown; fourteen grand-children, +and several great-grand-children.</p> + +<p>"Judge O'Neall was one of the best men and best masters +in the country that I knew of. I think Abraham Lincoln was a good +man, according to what I have heard about him. Jeff Davis was the +same. Booker Washington was a great man to his country and served +the colored race.</p> + +<p>"I joined the church because I believe the bible is true, +and according to what it says, the righteous are the only people +God is pleased with. Without holiness no man shall see God."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">Source: Mary Veals (72), Newberry, S.C. Interviewed by:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 20, 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>Folklore</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>Oct. 21, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in54" id="in54"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + + +<p>"I don't own no house. I live in a rented house. Yes, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +work fer my living. I don't 'member much 'bout slavery except what +I heard my daddy and mammy say. My pa was Washing Holloway and my ma +was Polly Holloway. Dey belonged to Judge O'Neall, and lived at his +place 'bout three miles from town, near Bush River.</p> + +<p>"Judge O'Neall's house was real old, and dey had a store near +it called Springfield, a kind of suburb at dat time.</p> + +<p>"After de war, we didn't have much clothes, 'cause everything +was so high. Judge O'Neall died befo' de war was over, and his wife +went to Mississippi to live wid her married daughter. After de war, +Miss Sallie, who was Judge O'Neall's daughter, learn't me to read +and write, and other things in books.</p> + +<p>"My father and mother went to de white folks' church in +slavery time. After de war, de negroes built deir first church and +called it a 'brush arbor'. A negro preacher named Simon Miller was +a good man and done lots of good when he preached in de brush arbor. +Dis was on de old Banduslian Springs hill, near de south fork of +Scotts Creek."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Mary Veals (73), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (9/30/37).</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in55" id="in55"></a>MANDA WALKER<br /><br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 80 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + + +<p>Manda Walker lives with her son-in-law, Albert Cooper, in a three-room<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +frame cottage in Winnsboro, S.C. Albert's first wife was her daughter, +Sallie. Five of their children and Albert's second wife, Sadie, occupy the +house with Albert and Manda.</p> + +<p>"Does you know where Horse Crick (Creek) branch is, and where Wateree +Crick is? Ever been 'long de public road 'tween them water courses? Well, on +de sunrise side of dat road, up on a hill, was where my slavery time marster +live.</p> + +<p>"I was born in de yard, back of de white folks' house, in a little log +house wid a dirt floor and a stick and mud chimney to one end of de house. My +marster was name Marse Tom Rowe and my mistress name Missy Jane Rowe. They de +ones dat tell me, long time ago, dat I was born befo' de war, in 1857. Deir +chillun was Miss Mary and Miss Miami.</p> + +<p>"I no work much 'til de end of de war. Then I pick cotton and peas and +shell corn and peas. Most of de time I play and sometime be maid to my young +misses. Both growed into pretty buxom ladies. Miss Miami was a handsome buxom +woman; her marry Marse Tom Johnson and live, after de war, near Wateree Church.</p> + +<p>"My pappy name Jeff and b'long to Marse Joe Woodward. He live on a plantation +'cross de other side of Wateree Crick. My mammy name Phoebe. Pappy have +to git a pass to come to see mammy, befo' de war. Sometime dat crick git up over +de bank and I, to dis day, 'members one time pappy come in all wet and drenched +wid water. Him had made de mule swim de crick. Him stayed over his leave dat +was writ on de pass. Patarollers (patrollers) come ask for de pass. They say:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +'De time done out, nigger.' Pappy try to explain but they pay no 'tention to +him. Tied him up, pulled down his breeches, and whupped him right befo' mammy +and us chillun. I shudder, to dis day, to think of it. Marse Tom and Miss +Jane heard de hollerin' of us all and come to de place they was whuppin' him +and beg them, in de name of God, to stop, dat de crick was still up and dangerous +to cross, and dat they would make it all right wid pappy's marster. They +say of pappy: 'Jeff swim 'cross, let him git de mule and swim back.' They make +pappy git on de mule and follow him down to de crick and watch him swim dat swif' +muddly crick to de other side. I often think dat de system of patarollers and +bloodhounds did more to bring on de war and de wrath of de Lord than anything +else. Why de good white folks put up wid them poor white trash patarollers I +never can see or understand. You never see classy white buckra men a paterrollin'. +It was always some low-down white men, dat never owned a nigger in deir life, +doin' de patarollin' and a strippin' de clothes off men, lak pappy, right befo' +de wives and chillun and beatin' de blood out of him. No, sir, good white men +never dirty deir hands and souls in sich work of de devil as dat.</p> + +<p>"Mammy had nine chillun. All dead 'cept Oliver. Him still down dere +wid de Duke Power Company people, I think. When I come sixteen years old, lak +all gals dat age, I commence to think 'bout de boys, and de boys, I 'spects, +commence to take notice of me. You look lak you is surprised I say dat. You +is just puttin' on. Old and solemn as you is, a settin' dere a writin', I bets +a whole lot of de same foolishness have run through your head lak it run through +Jerry's, when he took to goin' wid me, back in 1873. Now ain't it so?</p> + +<p>"Us chillun felt de pivations (privations) of de war. Us went in rags +and was often hungry. Food got scarce wid de white folks, so much had to be +given up for de army. De white folks have to give up coffee and tea. De slaves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +just eat corn-bread, mush, 'taters and buttermilk. Even de peas was commanded +for de army. Us git meat just once a week, and then a mighty little of dat. +I never got a whuppin' and mammy never did git a whuppin'.</p> + +<p>"Us all went to Wateree Presbyterian Church on Sunday to hear Mr. +Douglas preach. Had two sermons and a picnic dinner on de ground 'tween de +sermons. Dat was a great day for de slaves. What de white folks lef' on de +ground de slaves had a right to, and us sure enjoy de remains and bless de +Lord for it. Main things he preached and prayed for, was a success in de end +of de war, so mammy would explain to us when us 'semble 'round de fireside befo' +us go to bed. Her sure was a Christian and make us all kneel down and say two +prayers befo' us git in bed. De last one was:</p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +'Now I lay me down to sleep,<br /> +I pray de Lord my soul to keep.<br /> +If I should die befo' I wake,<br /> +I pray de Lord my soul to take.<br /> +Bless pappy, bless mammy,<br /> +Bless marster, bless missie,<br /> +And bless me. Amen!' +</div></div> + +<p>"Wheeler's men was just as hard and wolfish as de Yankees. They say de +Yankees was close behind them and they just as well take things as to leave all +for de Yankees. 'Spect dat was true, for de Yankees come nex' day and took de +rest of de hog meat, flour, and cows. Had us to run down and ketch de chickens +for them. They search de house for money, watches, rings, and silverware. Took +everything they found, but they didn't set de house afire. Dere was just 'bout +five of them prowlin' 'round 'way from de main army, a foragin', they say.</p> + +<p>"When Miss Margaret marry, old marster sold out and leave de county. +Us move to Mr. Wade Rawls' and work for him from 1876 to Jerry's death. Is I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +told you dat I marry Jerry? Well, I picked out Jerry Walker from a baker's +dozen of boys, hot footin' it 'bout mammy's door step, and us never had a +cross word all our lives. Us had nine chillun. Us moved 'round from pillar +to post, always needy but always happy. Seem lak us never could save anything +on his $7.06 a month and a peck of meal and three pounds of meat a week.</p> + +<p>"When de chillun come on, us try rentin' a farm and got our supplies +on a crop lien, twenty-five percent on de cash price of de supplies and paid in +cotton in de fall. After de last bale was sold, every year, him come home wid +de same sick smile and de same sad tale: 'Well, Mandy, as usual, I settled up +and it was—'Naught is naught and figger is a figger, all for de white man and +none for de nigger.'</p> + +<p>"De grave and de resurrection will put everything all right, but I have +a instinct dat God'll make it all right over and up yonder and dat all our 'flictions +will, in de long run, turn out to our 'ternal welfare and happiness."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in56" id="in56"></a>NED WALKER<br /><br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Ned Walker lives in the village of White Oak, near Winnsboro, S.C.,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +in a two-room frame house, the dwelling of his son-in-law, Leander Heath, who +married his daughter, Nora. Ned is too old to do any work of a remunerative +character but looks after the garden and chickens of his daughter and son-in-law. +He is a frequent visitor to Winnsboro, S.C. He brings chickens and +garden produce, to sell in the town and the Winnsboro Hill's village. He is +tall, thin, and straight, with kind eyes. Being one of the old Gaillard Negroes, +transplanted from the Santee section of Berkeley County, in the Low Country, to +the red hills of Fairfield County, in the Up Country, he still retains words and +phrases characteristic of the Negro in the lower part of South Carolina.</p> + +<p>"Yes sir, I's tall and slim lak a saplin'; maybe dat a good reason +I live so long. Doctor say lean people lives longer than fat people.</p> + +<p>"I hear daddy read one time from de Bible 'bout a man havin' strength +of years in his right hand and honor and riches in his left hand, but whenever +I open dat left hand dere is nothin' in it. 'Spect dat promise is comin' tho', +when de old age pension money gits down here from Washington. When you 'spect +it is comin'? De palm of my hand sho' begin to itch for dat greenback money. +So you think it's on de way? Well, thank God for dat but it seem 'most too +good to be true. Now I'll quit askin' questions and just set here and smoke +and answer, whilst you do de puttin' down on de paper.</p> + +<p>"Yes sir, I was born right here in de southeast corner of Winnsboro, +on de Clifton place. De day I was born, it b'long to my master, David Gaillard. +Miss Louisa, dats Master David's wife, 'low to me one day, 'Ned don't you ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +call de master, old master, and don't you ever think of me as old miss'. +I promise her dat I keep dat always in mind, and I ain't gonna change, +though she done gone on to heaven and is in de choir a singin' and a singin' +them chants dat her could pipe so pretty at St. Johns, in Winnsboro. +You see they was 'Piscopalians. Dere was no hard shell Baptist and no +soft shell Methodist in deir make up. It was all glory, big glory, glory +in de very highest rung of Jacob's ladder, wid our white folks.</p> + +<p>"Well, how I is ramblin'. You see dere was Master David and Mistress +Louisa, de king bee and de queen bee. They had a plantation down on +de Santee, in de Low Country, somewhere 'bout Moncks Corner. One day Master +David buy a 1,385 acres on Wateree Creek. He also buy de Clifton place, to +live in, in Winnsboro. I can't git my mind back to tell you what I wants +for you to put on de paper. 'Scuse me, forgit everything, 'til you git my +pedigree down.</p> + +<p>"I done name Master David and Mistress Louisa. Now for de chillun. +Us was told to front de boys name wid Marse and de young ladies name wid Miss. +Now us can go and git somewhere.</p> + +<p>"Well, dere was Miss Elizabeth; she marry Mr. Dwight. Miss Maria +marry another Mr. Dwight. Miss Kate marry Mr. Bob Ellison, a sheriff. Her +got two chillun in Columbia, Marse David and Marse DuBose Ellison. Then for +de boys; they all went to de war. Marse Alley got kilt. Marse Dick rise to +be a captain and after de war marry Congressman Boyce's daughter, Miss Fannie. +Marse Ike marry and live in de Low Country; he die 'bout two years ago. Marse +Sam marry a Miss DuBose and went wid General Wade Hampton.</p> + +<p>"Marse Sam's son cut a canal that divide half and half de western +part of de whole world. Us niggers was powerful scared, 'til Marse David +Gailliard took a hold of de business. Why us scared? Why us fear dat de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +center of de backbone of de world down dere, when cut, would tipple over +lak de halfs of a watermelon and everybody would go under de water in de +ocean. How could Marse David prevent it? Us niggers of de Gaillard generation +have confidence in de Gaillard race and us willin' to sink or swim +wid them in whatever they do. Young Marse David propped de sides of de +world up all right, down dere, and they name a big part of dat canal, +Gaillard Cut, so they did. (Gaillard Cut, Panama Canal)</p> + +<p>"Well, I keep a ramblin'. Will I ever git to Marse Henry, de +one dat looked after and cared for slaves of de family most and best? Marse +Henry marry a Miss White in Charleston. He rise to be captain and adjutant +of de fightin' 6th Regiment. After de war him fix it so de slaves stay altogether, +on dat 1,385 acres and buy de place, as common tenants, on de +'stallment plan. He send word for de head of each family to come to Winnsboro; +us have to have names and register. Marse Henry command; us obey. +Dat was a great day. My daddy already had his name, Tom. He was de driver +of de buggy, de carriage, and one of de wagons, in slavery. Marse Henry +wrote him a name on a slip and say: 'Tom as you have never walked much, +I name you Walker.'</p> + +<p>"It wasn't long befo' daddy, who was de only one dat could read +and write, ride down to Columbia and come back wid a 'mission in his pocket +from de 'Publican Governor, to be Justice of de Peace.</p> + +<p>"Marse Henry ladle out some 'golliwhopshus' names dat day. Such +as: Caesar Harrison, Edward Cades and Louis Brevard. He say, 'Louis, I +give you de name of a judge. Dan, I give you a Roman name, Pompey.' Pompey +turned out to be a preacher and I see your grandpa, Marse William Woodward, +in de graveyard when Uncle Pompey preached de funeral of old Uncle Wash Moore. +Tell you 'bout dat if I has time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, he give Uncle Sam de name of Shadrock. When he reach +Uncle Aleck, he 'low: 'I adds to your name Aleck, two fine names, a +preacher's and a scholar's, Porter Ramsey.' 'Bout dat time a little runt +elbow and butt his way right up to de front and say: 'Marse Henry, Marse +Henry! I wants a big bulldozin' name.' Marse Henry look at him and say: +'You little shrimp, take dis then.' And Marse Henry write on de slip of +paper: Mendoza J. Fernandez, and read it out loud. De little runt laugh +mighty pleased and some of them Fernandezes 'round here to dis day.</p> + +<p>"My mammy name Bess, my granddaddy name June, grandmamny, Renah, +but all my brothers dead. My sisters Clerissie and Phibbie am still livin'. +Us was born in a two-story frame house, chimney in de middle, four rooms +down stairs and four up stairs. Dere was four families livin' in it. Dese +was de town domestics of master. Him have another residence on de plantation +and a set of domestics, but my daddy was de coachman for both places.</p> + +<p>"De Gaillard quarters was a little town laid out wid streets wide +'nough for a wagon to pass thru. Houses was on each side of de street. A +well and church was in de center of de town. Dere was a gin-house, barns, +stables, cowpen and a big bell on top of a high pole at de barn gate. Dere +was a big trough at de well, kept full of water day and night, in case of +fire and to water de stock. Us had peg beds, wheat straw mattress and rag +pillows. Cotton was too valuable.</p> + +<p>"Master didn't 'low de chillun to be worked. He feed slaves on +'tatoes, rice, corn pone, hominy, fried meat, 'lasses, shorts, turnips, +collards, and string beans. Us had pumpkin pie on Sunday. No butter, no +sweet milk but us got blabber and buttermilk.</p> + +<p>"Oh, then, I 'bout to forgit. Dere was a big hall wid spinnin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +wheels in it, where thread was spin. Dat thread was hauled to Winnsboro +and brought to de Clifton place in Winnsboro, to de weave house. Dat house +set 'bout where de Winnsboro Mill is now. Mammy was head of de weave house +force and see to de cloth. Dere was a dye-room down dere too. They use red +earth sometime and sometime walnut stain. My mammy learn all dis from a +white lady, Miss Spurrier, dat Master David put in charge dere at de first. +How long she stay? I disremembers dat. Us no want for clothes summer or +winter. Had wooden bottom shoes, two pair in a year.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sam Johnson was de overseer. Dere was 'bout 700 slaves in de +Gaillard quarter and twenty in town, countin' de chillun. De young white +marsters break de law when they teach daddy to read and write. Marse Dick +say: 'To hell wid de law, I got to have somebody dat can read and write +'mong de servants.' My daddy was his valet. He put de boys to bed, put on +deir shoes and brush them off, and all dat kind of 'tention.</p> + +<p>"De church was called Springvale. After freedom, by a vote, de members +jines up, out of respect to de family, wid de Afican Methodist 'Piscopalian +Church, so as to have as much of de form, widout de substance of them chants, +of de master's church.</p> + +<p>"No sir, us had no mulattoes on de place. Everybody decent and happy. +They give us two days durin' Christmas for celebratin' and dancin'.</p> + +<p>"I marry Sylvin Field, a gal on de General Bratton Canaan place. Us +have three chillun. Nora Heath, dat I'm now livin' wid, at White Oak, Bessie +Lew, in Tennessee, and Susannah, who is dead.</p> + +<p>"What I think of Abe Lincoln? Dat was a mighty man of de Lord. What +I think of Jeff Davis? He all right, 'cordin' to his education, just lak my white +folks. What I think of Mr. Roosevelt? Oh, Man! Dat's our papa.</p> + +<p>"Go off! I's blabbed 'nough. You 'bliged to hear 'bout dat funeral?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +Will I pester you for 'nother cigarette? No sir! I ain't gonna smoke +it lak you smoke it. Supposin' us was settin' here smokin' them de same? +A Gaillard come up them steps and see us. He say: 'Shame on dat white +man', turn his back and walk back down. A Woodward come up them steps +and see us. He say: 'You d— nigger! What's all dis?' Take me by de +collar, boot me down them steps, and come back and have it out wid you. +Dat's 'bout de difference of de up and low country buckra.</p> + +<p>"Now 'bout Uncle Wash's funeral. Uncle Wash was de blacksmith +in de forks of de road 'cross de railroad from Concord Church. He was a +powerful man! Him use de hammer and tongs for all de people miles and +miles 'round. Him jine de Springvale Afican Methodist 'Piscopalian Church, +but fell from grace. Him covet a hog of Marse Walt Brice and was sent to +de penitentiary for two years, 'bout dat hog. Him contacted consumption +down dere and come home. His chest was all sunk in and his ribs full of +rheumatism. Him soon went to bed and died. Him was buried on top of de +hill, in de pines just north of Woodward. Uncle Pompey preached de funeral. +White folks was dere. Marse William was dere, and his nephew, de Attorney +General of Arizona. Uncle Pompey took his text 'bout Paul and Silas layin' +in jail and dat it was not 'ternally against a church member to go to jail. +Him dwell on de life of labor and bravery, in tacklin' kickin' hosses and +mules. How him sharpen de dull plow points and make de corn and cotton +grow, to feed and clothe de hungry and naked. He look up thru de pine tree +tops and say: 'I see Jacob's ladder. Brother Wash is climbin' dat ladder. +Him is half way up. Ah! Brudders and sisters, pray, while I preach dat +he enter in them pearly gates. I see them gates open. Brother Wash done +reach de topmost rung in dat ladder. Let us sing wid a shout, dat blessed +hymn, 'Dere is a Fountain Filled Wid Blood'.' Wid de first verse de women<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +got to hollerin' and wid de second', Uncle Pompey say: 'De dyin' thief +I see him dere to welcome Brother Wash in paradise. Thank God! Brother +Wash done washed as white as snow and landed safe forever more.'</p> + +<p>"Dat Attorney General turn up his coat in de November wind and +say; 'I'll be damn! Marse William smile and 'low: 'Oh Tom! Don't be +too hard on them. 'Member He will have mercy on them, dat have mercy on +others'."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>Stiles M. Scruggs</b><br /> +<b>Columbia, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in57" id="in57"></a>DANIEL WARING<br /><br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>"I was born in Fairfield County, South Carolina, in 1849, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +my parents, Tobias and Becky Waring was slaves of the Waring family, and +the Bookters and Warings was kin folks. When I was just a little shaver +I was told I b'longed to the family of the late Colonel Edward Bookter of +upper Fairfield County.</p> + +<p>"The Bookter plantation was a big one, with pastures for cattle, +hogs and sheep; big field of cotton, corn and wheat, and 'bout a dozen +Negro families livin' on it, mostly out of sight from the Bookter's big +house. Two women and three or four Negro chillun work there, preparin' the +food and carin' for the stock. I was one of the chillun. Colonel Bookter's +household had three boys; one bigger than me and two not quite as big as me. +We play together, drive up the cows together, and carry on in friendly fashion +all the time. The nigger chillun eat with the two black women in a place fixed +for them off from the kitchen, after the white folks finish. We generally +have same food and drink that the white folks have.</p> + +<p>"When I was 'bout eleven years old my master took me to Columbia one +Saturday afternoon, and while Colonel Bookter was 'round at a livery stable +on Assembly Street, he give me some money and tell me I could stroll 'round +a while. I did, and soon find myself with 'bout a dozen of Master Hampton's +boys. As we walk 'long Gervais Street, we met a big fine lookin' man with +a fishin' tackle, goin' towards the river, and several other white folks was +with him. As we turn the corner, the big man kinda grin and say to us: 'Whose +niggers are you?' The bigger boy with us say: 'We all b'longs to Master Hampton.' +He laugh some more and then reach in his pocket and give each one of us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +a nickel, sayin' to the white folks: 'Blest if I know my own niggers, +anymore'.</p> + +<p>"Yes sir, I was 'bout fourteen years old when President Lincoln +set us all free in 1863. The war was still goin' on and I'm tellin' you +right when I say that my folks and friends round me did not regard freedom +as a unmixed blessin'.</p> + +<p>"We didn't know where to go or what to do, and so we stayed right +where we was, and there wasn't much difference to our livin', 'cause we had +always had a plenty to eat and wear. I 'member my mammy tellin' me that +food was gittin' scarce, and any black folks beginnin' to scratch for themselves +would suffer, if they take their foot in their hand and ramble 'bout +the land lak a wolf.</p> + +<p>"As a slave on the plantation of Colonel Edward Bookter, I had a +pretty good time. I knows I has work to do and I does it, and I always has +plenty to eat and wear in winter and summer. If I get sick I has a doctor, +so we set tight until 1865. After the war we come to Columbia, and mammy +made us a livin' by washin' for white folks and doin' other jobs in the +kitchen, and I worked at odd jobs, too.</p> + +<p>"We didn't get much money from the Freedmen's outfit, which was +'stablished in Columbia. The white men who set it up and administered the +Freedmen's funds and rations let some of their pets have much of it, while +others got little or nothin'. An' existence become increasin' harder as +nigger got more and more in the saddle.</p> + +<p>"During the war, and it seem to me it would never end, we heard +much 'bout President Lincoln. Niggers seem to think he was foolish to get +into war, but they generally give him credit for directin' it right as far +as he could. President Davis was powerful popular at the beginnin' of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +conflict, but his popularity was far less when the war is over and +he is in jail.</p> + +<p>"I was 'most grown at the end of the war, and I was at no +time popular with the black leaders and their white friends who rule +the roost in Columbia for 'most thirteen years. I went back to my +white friends in Fairfield County and work for years for Mister T.S. +Brice, and others on the plantation.</p> + +<p>"I has been married three times, and am now livin' with my +third wife. She and me am makin' a sort of livin', and is yet able to +work. I can only do de lightest work and the sweetest thought I has these +days is the memory of my white friends when I was young and happy."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, June 2, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in58" id="in58"></a>NANCY WASHINGTON<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 104 years.</h3> + + + +<p>"Come in child. Jes set right dere in dat chair whey I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +c'n be mindful uv yuh cause I ain' hear but sorta hard lak +dese days. I jes come in outer de field whey I been chopping +'round uh little wid me hoe, but eve't'ing is grow so black +'fore me eye dat I t'ink I better rest meself uh little. I +tries to help Sam (her son) aw I c'n, but I ain' mucha 'count +no more. I 104 year old en I ain' gwinna be heah much longer. +Me mark done strak (strike) me right dere dis a'ternoon. Dat +been jes de way my ole mammy waz call."</p> + +<p>"Does yah know whey dat place call Ash Pole? Dat whey I +wuz raise up when I b'long to Massa Giles Evanson. He wuz uh +good ole fellow. I ain' know wha' it wuz to ge' no bad treatment +by my white people. Dey tell me some uv de colored peoples +lib mighty rough in dat day en time but I ne'er know nuthin 'bout +dat. I 'member dey is spank we chillun wid shingle but dey ne'er +didn't hit my mudder."</p> + +<p>"My Massa ne'er hab so mucha colored peoples lak some uv dem +udder white folks hab. Jes hab my mudder en eight head uv we +chillun. Hab 'nough to gi'e eve'yone uv he daughter uh servant +apiece when dey ge' marry. Ne'er hab nuthin but women colored +peoples. My Massa say he ain' wan' no man colored peoples."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"De preacher Ford, wha' use'er lib right up dere in +town, papa hab uh big ole plantation wha' been jes lak +uh little town. He hab hundred colored peoples en dey +is hab eve't'ing dere. Hab dey preachin' right dere on +de plantation en aw dat."</p> + +<p>"Coase my white folks hab uh nice plantation en dey +keep uh nice house aw de time. I wuz de house girl dere +en de one wha' dey'ud hab to wait on de Missus. Dey'ud +carry me eve'ywhey dey go. Al'ays know how I wuz faring. +My Missus wuz big en independent lak. Talk lak she mad +aw de time, but she warnt. She ne'er wear no cotton 'bout +dere no time. Hab her silk on eve'y day en dem long yellow +ear bob dat'ud be tetchin right long side she shoulder. I +al'ays look a'ter de Missus en she chillun. Wash dey feet +en comb dey hair en put de chillun to bed. But child, some +white folks is queer 'bout t'ings. Dey watch yuh gwine 'bout +yuh work en den dey'll wan' yuh to do sumptin fa dem. De ole man +take me 'way from helping de Missus en send me out to plow +corn en drap peas. I wuz shame too cause I ne'er lak fa he +to treat my Missus dat uh way."</p> + +<p>"De peoples ne'er didn't cook in no stove den neither. +Dey hab big ole round dirt ubben (oven) to cook dey ration in. +Dey make dey ubben outer white clay en hadder build uh shelter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +over it cause dey'ud cook outer in de yard. Dey ne'er +cook but jes twice uh week. Cook on Wednesday en den +ne'er cook no more till Saturday. I 'member de big ole +ham dat dey cook en de tatoes en so mucha bread. Jes hab +'bundance aw de time. I got uh piece uv de ole slavery +time ubben heah now. I ge' it outer en show it to yuh. +Dis is one uv de leads (lids) en dey'ud put uh chain en +hook on dere en hang it up in de fireplace. Dat de way +dey cook dey ration. O Lawd, ef I could ge' back to my +ole home whey I could look in en see jes one more time, +jes one more time, child."</p> + +<p>"I wuz jes uh girl when de Yankees come t'rough dere. +Dey look jes lak uh big blue cloud comin' down dat road +en we chillun wuz scared uv em. Dat land 'round 'bout dere +wuz full uv dem Yankees marchin' en gwine on. Dey ne'er +bother my white folks but in some uv de places dey jes ruint +eve't'ing. Burnt up en tore down aw 'bout dere."</p> + +<p>"Yuh ain' ne'er see nobody weave no cloth nowadays. In +de winter dey use'er al'ays put woolen on de little chillun +to keep em from getting burnt up. Peoples wuz easy to cotch +uh fire in dat time. Dey hab plenty uv sheep den en dis jes +'bout de time uv de year dat dey shear de sheep. Al'ays'ud +shear de sheep in de month uv May. Dey is make aw kinder +nice cloth den. I c'n charge en spin en make any kinder +streak yuh wan'. Coase my mudder use'er weave de jeanes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +cloth en blanketing."</p> + +<p>"Dey use'er hab some uv dem corn-shucking 'bout dere +but I ne'er take no part in none uv dat. A'ter freedom +declare, us pull boxes en dip turpentine. Dat wha' wuz +in de style den."</p> + +<p>"I won' but 'bout 16 when I marry en I hab uh nice +wedding. Marry right dere in my Massa yard en hab white +swass dress to wear. I marry uh settled man offen uh rich man +plantation en dey ne'er wan' me to marry, but dey ne'er +say nuthin 'gainst it. Dey hab good manners den en +manners de t'ing dat carry peoples t'rough anyt'ing, +child."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source</span>: Nancy Washington, age 104, colored, Dusty Hills,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Marion, S.C. (Personal interview, May 1937).</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in59" id="in59"></a>CHARLEY WATSON<br /><br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + + +<p>"Dis is a mighty hot day I tells you, and after climbing them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +steps I just got to fan myself befo' I give answer to your questions. +You got any 'bacco I could chaw and a place to spit? Dis old darkie +maybe answer more better if he be allowed to be placed lak dat at de +beginnin' of de 'sperience.</p> + +<p>"Where was I born? Why right dere on de Hog Fork Place, thought +everybody knowed dat! It was de home place of my old Marster Daniel Hall, +one of de Rockefellers of his day and generation, I tells you, he sho was. +My pappy had big name, my marster call him Denmore, my mammy went by de +name of Mariyer. She was bought out of a drove from Virginny long befo' +de war. They both b'long to old marster and bless God live on de same +place in a little log house. Let's see; my brother Bill is one, he livin' +at de stone quarry at Salisbury, North Carolina. My sister Lugenie marry +a Boulware nigger and they tells me dat woman done take dat nigger and make +sumpin' out of him. They owns their own automobile and livin' in Cleveland, +Ohio.</p> + +<p>"Us live in quarters, two string of houses a quarter mile long and +just de width of a wagon road betwixt them. How many slaves marster had? +Dere was four hundred in 1850, dat was de year I was born, so allowing for +de natural 'crease, 'spect dere was good many more when freedom come. Our +beds was made of poles and hay or straw. Was my marster rich? How come +he wasn't? Didn't he have a Florida plantation and a Georgia plantation? +Didn't us niggers work hard for our vittles and clothes? It make me laugh +de way de niggers talk 'bout eight hours a day. Us worked by de 'can and +de can't system'. What way dat you ask me? Well, was dis way; in de mornin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +when it git so you can see, you got to go to work and at night when it +git so dark you can't see you ceasted to work. You see what I mean? +My marster's white overseer 'dopted de 'can and can't system' of work +hours. My mammy had to plow same as a man, she did sir. Sometimes +they pulled fodder and fooled wid it on Sunday.</p> + +<p>"You is a pushin' me a little too fast. Let me gum dis 'bacco +and spit and I can do and say more 'zackly what you expect from me. My +marster had sheep, goats, mules, horses, stallion, jackass, cows and hogs, +and then he had a gin, tan yard, spinnin' rooms, weave room, blacksmith +shop and shoe shop. Dere was wild turkeys on de place, deer in de cane brakes +and shad in de Catawba River. De Indians fetch their pots and jars to sell, +and peddlers come to big house wid their humps on their backs and bright yards +of calico and sich things de missus lak to feel and s'lect from. I see money +then, but I never see a nigger wid money in his paws in slavery time, never!</p> + +<p>"Us was fed good on corn meal, hog meat, milk, butter, 'lasses, +turnips, beans, peas and apples, never hungry. Boss whip me once for fightin' +and I never fought anymore, I tells you.</p> + +<p>"My mistress name Miss Sarah. Her was a Hicklin befo' she marry. +Their chillun was: Tom, Billie, Dan and Jason, all dead 'cept Marster Jason. +De white overseer was Strother Ford. He give de slaves down the country maybe +sometimes, so heard them say, but I didn't see him.</p> + +<p>"Did us sing? Yes sir. What us sing? One was what I's gwine hist +right dis minute and sing wid your lieve. (Here Charley sang, 'Give me dat old +time religion'.)</p> + +<p>"Us made 'simmon beer sometime and lye soap just 'bout in de same way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +hopper was 'rected for dat. 'Simmons was put wid locust; hickory ashes +was used to make soap. Every Christmas us got ginger cake and sassafras +tea.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Scott was de doctor for de slaves. Us niggers was mighty +sad when his son Willie's gun went off by accident and kill him in 1868. +De Doctor never smile again after dat cumbustion of dat gun. Does you +'member de time Mr. Till Dixon was drowned? He your uncle? 'Twas de +fourth of July, I 'member dat day, and a boy Freddie Habbernick was +drowned in Catawba in 1903. Dat river take a many soul over dat other +shore, I tells you."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>S-260-264-N</b><br /> +<b>Project 935</b><br /> +<b>Samuel Addison</b><br /> +<b>Richland County</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in60" id="in60"></a>EX-SLAVE 91 YEARS OLD, CONGAREE, SOUTH CAROLINA<br /><br /> +<span class="under">THERE WAS NO GOD BUT MOSSA AN' MISSUS</span></h3> + + + +<p>"My pa name was Nat White who tell me dat I was bo'n about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +1842. My ma was name Jane White. My pa use to carry all de votes +from McClellanville to Charleston. He come from Tibbin, South Carolina. +He also been all 'round de United States. My Ma's Ma bin name +Kate. I had sense to know 'em all.</p> + +<p>"I know a heap o' sojus had on nice buttons an' had plumes in +dere hats. Dey wus singin' an' playin' on a flute dis song, 'I wish +I wus in Dixie,' an' dey went in de big house an' broke up ebery +thing. Dey say to me, 'you are as free as a frog,' an' dey say to +my pa, 'all your chillun are free.' Dey say 'little niggers is free +as a frog' an' we holler much.</p> + +<p>"I aint nebber do no work, but I kin 'member I use to wear a +pant you call chambery. Ma cook a pot o' peas an' weevils wus always +on de top. Ma would den turn mush an' clean a place on de floor, +she make a paddle an' we eat off de floor. She use to bake ash cake +too. I didn' know 'bout no garden, all I know I eat. Dis what dey +put on me I wear em. I nebber know nothin' 'bout shoes.</p> + +<p>"My master been name Bill Cooper who had a gal an' a son. De +gal been name Mary an' de boy Bill like de daddy.</p> + +<p>"Tarbin wus a big house, but I aint nebber know de number o' +slaves or 'mount o' lan' dat went wid um.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"De slaves had a church name Lazarus an' some went to de +white church. Dey had us bar off frum de whites an' we use to look +t'rough a glass door. I member when a preacher say, 'honor your +missus an' mossa dat your days may be long for dey is your only God.' +My Ma tell me when dey use to lick dem she use to sing dis song, +'do pray for me' en ma say w'en de lickin' got too hot she say 'oh +God' en mossa say, 'show me dat damn man', den he say, 'I am your +only God. My preacher name wus Sabie Mood.</p> + +<p>"De slaves couldn't git any news, but dey had to work on Sunday +if de week bin bad. W'en it rain dey use to shuck co'n.</p> + +<p>"W'en Bill Cooper die he holler to me, 'I'm burnin' up' an' +ma say missus say, 'iron me too hot, she meat is red like fire.'</p> + +<p>"We use to sing song like dese;</p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +'Mary bring de news an' Martha win de prize.<br /> +I mus die an' will die in dat day<br /> +See dat oars like feathers springing'<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>"I marry Sarah on December 18th. Him de only one I marry +an' we had a big weddin' an' plenty o' somethin' to eat. We had fourteen +chillun.</p> + +<p>"Pa say mossa use to take de fork an' punch holes in +dere body w'en he got mad. People always die frum de pisin.</p> + +<p>"Dis is all I know I ain't go tell no lie, dat what +pa say, I moved here atter de yankees come."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Reference;<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Uncle Dave White,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">91 years old</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Congaree, South Carolina.</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>S-260-264-N</b><br /> +<b>Project 1885</b><br /> +<b>Laura L. Middleton</b><br /> +<b>Charleston, S.C.</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>No. Words: 452</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in61" id="in61"></a>UNCLE DAVE WHITE<br /><br /> +<span class="under">An Old Time Negro</span></h3> + + + +<p>Uncle Dave White, one of the waning tribe lives in a simple homestead down a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +dusty and wind-swept curved country lane on the out skirt of McClenville, forty miles +North of Charleston rests the simple shanty of David White, aged Negro, affectionally +known to the Negro and white population for many miles around as "uncle Dave".</p> + +<p>His quiet unadulterated mode of living and his never changing grateful disposition +typifies the true Southern Negro of pre-Civil War days; a race that was commonplace +and plentiful at one time, but is now almost extinct, having dwindled in the face +of more adequate educational facilities.</p> + +<p>His homestead, resembling a barn more than a place to live in. To protect the +house against the hazardous affects of imperilling winds, long poles are made to prop +the somewhat dilapidated shanty.</p> + +<p>A visit to his home, one dark and dreary day in late December, found him as +usual in the best of spirits. He welcomed the visitors with a cordiality that would +rival the meeting of two long lost friends. The front has no main entrance; the main +door is around the back. There are conspicuous displays of many ancient burlap bags, +heavy laden, hanging from high rafters, which contained corn and peanuts.</p> + +<p>"But why not keep them in your barn, Uncle Dave!" one would ask.</p> + +<p>"Well, suh, I keep mah co'n and grain nuts in yuh so mak eye can sta' on 'em," +he replies.</p> + +<p>A further inspection of the premises revealed other precautions he had taken +against the unwelcomed guests; a crude lock on each door and many other precautionary +measures convicted, that he was willing to take no unnecessary chances at having +his worldly goods stolen.</p> + +<p>His age is truly a matter of conjecture. The more you look at him the more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +uncertain you become. His droopy carriage and shriveled feature betray you at first +sight. The first impression will lead one to believe that he is about one hundred +years of age, and later it will appear that he is not that old.</p> + +<p>We had known "uncle Dave" for a long time; for years it had been a familiar +sight to see him trudging the streets of the town with burlap bags thrown across his +shoulders containing such household necessities as grits, salt, sugar, etc., and such +articles as the house wives would give him out of sheer sympathy. To every friendly +greeting he always had the humble response of "Tank Gawd, my eye is open."</p> + +<p>He is well known throughout the town. One Sunday night a short time ago, +while the services of a white church were in progress, distinguishable sounds of Amen +were heard at regular intervals coming from the outside. On investigating they discovered +that it was "uncle Dave" reverently enjoying the proceedings. Many times he has +been seen outside the same church listening to the services.</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">SOURCE</span></p> +<p>Interview with (Mrs.) Minnie Huges, age 43, 179 Spring Street, welfare worker.</p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1655</b><br /> +<b>Martha S. Pinckney</b><br /> +<b>Charleston, S.C.</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<br /> +<b>Approx. <span class="under">637</span> words</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><span class="under"><a name="in62" id="in62"></a>INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE</span></h3> + + +<p>Everybody in the town of Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish (across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +the Bay from Charleston) knows "Tena White, the washer," "Tena, the cook," +"Maum Tena" or "Da Tena, the nurse"—the same individual, accomplished in +each art, but best as a nurse.</p> + +<p>The house where Tena lives is the second in a row of Negro houses. The +writer, calling from the gate, was answered by Tena, a middle-sized woman +of neat figure. As the writer ascended the steps a friendly cur wagged +itself forward and was promptly reproved by Tena, who placed a chair, the +seat of which she wiped carefully with her dress. The piazza was clean +and on the floor a black baby slept on a folded cloth, with a pillow under +its head. The writer was soon on friendly terms with Maum Tena, and was +told: "As soon as my eye set on you, I see you favor the people I know. My +people belonged to Mr. William Venning. The plantation was Remley Point. +I couldn't zactly member my pa's name. I member when de war come though. +Oh dem drum; I nebber hear such a drum in my life! De people like music; +dey didn't care nothing bout de Yankees, but dem bands of music! My mother +name Molly Williams. My pa dead long before that. All my people dead. I +stayin' here with my youngest sister chile—youngest son. He got seven +head ob chillun."</p> + +<p>"I can do anything—wash or cook—aint no more cook though. Oh yes"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +and her eyes sparkled, "I know how to cook de turkey, and de ham wid de +little brown spots all over de top. Nobody can collec' my soup for me; +I first go choose my soup bone. One wid plenty richness. My chile say, +'While my Tena live I wouldn't want nobody else.' But I couldn't take +de sponsibility now."</p> + +<p>"Maum Tena, how many children did you have?"</p> + +<p>"Maggie an Etta an Georgie an Annie, etc., etc." so fast and so many +that one couldn't keep up.</p> + +<p>"Wait, Maum Tena. How many were there in all—your own children?"</p> + +<p>"I nebber had a chile."</p> + +<p>"Oh, those were the children you nursed."</p> + +<p>"I marry twice. Caesar Robson an Aleck White."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever sing spirituals?"</p> + +<p>"No, I nebber had time."</p> + +<p>"But you sang lullabies to the children."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I sing someting to keep de chile quiet."</p> + +<p>"Where is your church, Maum Tena?"</p> + +<p>"De Methodist Church right here. I know I got for die some day. He +keep me distance,<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> but when I look an see my flesh, I tenk de Lord for ebbery +year what pass on my head. Taint my goodness, tis His goodness. Nothing +but the pureness of heart will see Him."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tena was shocked and disgusted at the idea of the Lord being a "black +man." She said with perfect certainty that he was "no such."</p> + +<p>"We all goin to de same Heaven, and there aint no black people there."</p> + +<p>The writer asked Tena her age; before she could answer, her great-niece +came to the door and said, "She eighty-eight." Tena was indignant. +Her eyes flashed. "I aint goin to hab nobody come along puttin down my +age what dunno anyting about it. I ought to be as high as nine. Let um be +as high as nine."<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></p> + +<p>"If I didn't been round de house wid white people I wouldn't hab dis +opportunity today, an dey good to me an gib me nuf to keep my soul an body +together. My mother raise me right. When de Yankee come through we been +at Remley Point. My Ma took care ob me. She shut me up and she gard me. +De Yankee been go in de colored people house, an dey mix all up, an dey do +jus what dey want. Dey been brutish.</p> + +<p>"De beautiful tureen, stand so high and hab foot so long" lifting her +hands, "an all de beautiful ting smash up, an all de meat an ham in de smoke +house de stribute um all out to de people, an de dairy broke up, an de horse +an de cow kill. Nothin leave. Scatter ebberyting. Nothin leave."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Tena White, Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Age: Approximately 90.</span> +</p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2">BILL WILLIAMS<br /><br /> +<span class="under"><a name="in63" id="in63"></a>EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>Bill Williams lives on the Durham place, nine miles east of Winnsboro,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +S.C., on the warm charity of Mr. Arthur M. Owens, the present owner. He is +decrepit and unable to work.</p> + +<p>"I was born a slave of old Marster John Durham, on a plantation 'bout +five miles east of Blackstock, S.C. My mistress name Margaret. Deir chillun +was Miss Cynthia, Marse Johnnie, Marse Willie and Marse Charnel. I forgits de +others. Then, when young Marse Johnnie marry Miss Minnie Mobley, my mammy, Kizzie, +my daddy, Eph, and me was give to them. Daddy and mammy had four other chillun. +They was Eph, Reuben, Winnie and Jordan. Us live in rows of log houses, a +path 'twixt de two rows. Us was close to de spring, where us got water and mammy +did de white folks washin' every week. I kep' de fires burnin' 'round de pots, +so de water would keep boilin'. Dat's 'bout all de work I 'members doin' in slavery +time. Daddy was a field hand and ploughed a big red mule, name Esau. How +many slaves was dere? More than I could count. In them days I couldn't count up +to a hundred. How, then, I gonna kno' how many dere was? You have to ask somebody +else. I'll just risk sayin' dere was big and little ones, just a little drove of +them dat went to de field in cotton pickin' time, a hollerin' and a singin' glory +hallelujah all day long, and pick two bales a day.</p> + +<p>"Marse Johnnie and Miss Minnie mighty good marster and mistress to deir +slaves. We had good rock chimneys to our houses, plank floors, movable bedsteads, +wid good wheat straw ticks, and cotton pillows. Other folks' slaves was complainin' +'bout dirt floors in de houses, boards to sleep on, no ticks, and rags for pillows. +Us got flour bread and 'lasses on Sunday, too, I'm here to tell you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They sho' fetch dat catechism 'round on Sunday and telled you who made +you, what Him make you out of, and what Him make you for. And they say dat from +de crown of your head to de top of your big toe, de chief end of every finger and +every toe, even to de ends of your two thumbs, was made to glorify de Lord! Missus +more 'ticular 'bout dat catechism than de marster. Her grandpa, old Marster John +Mobley was a great Baptist. After de crops was laid by, every August, him visit +his granddaughter. While dere, he take de slaves and dam up de branch, to make a +pond for to pool de water. Then he take to de hill just 'bove, cut down pine tops, +and make a brush arbor to hold de prachin' in. 'Vite white preachers, Mr. Cartledge, +Mr. Mellichamp or Mr. Van, to come hold a 'vival for all de slaves in and 'round and +'bout de country. I's seen 27 go down and come up out dat pool, a splashin' water +from deir faces, one Sunday evenin'. A terrible thing happen one time at de baptism. +It was while de war was gwine on. Marse Johnnie had come back from Virginia, +on a furlough for ten days. Old Marse John come to see him and fetch Rev. Mr. Cartledge +wid him. People was pow'ful consarned 'bout 'ligion 'long 'bout dat time. +Me and all de little slave boys jined dat time and dere was a little boy name Ike, +a slave of old Doctor John Douglas, dat jined. Him was just 'bout my age, seven +or eight years old. After him jined, him wanna back out of goin' down into de water. +Dat evenin', after dinner, us was all dressed in a kind of white slip-over gown for +de occasion. When it come Ike's time to receive de baptism, him was led by his mammy, +by de hand, to de edge of de water and his hand given to de preacher in charge, +who received him. Then he commenced: 'On de confession——'. 'Bout dat time +little Ike broke loose, run up de bank, and his mammy and all de slaves holler: +'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old Marse John holler: 'Ketch him!' They ketch little +Ike and fetch him back to old Marse John and his mammy. Marse John explain to him +dat it better to have water in de nose, now, than fire in de soul forever after.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +Little Ike say nothin'. His mammy take his hand and lead him to de preacher de +same way her did befo'. Little Ike went down into de water. Preacher take him +but when little Ike got down under dat water, de preacher lose de hold and bless +God, in some way little Ike got 'twixt and 'tween de preacher's legs and comin' +out behind him, turnt him sommersets and climb out on de bank a runnin'. Little +Ike's mammy cry out: 'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old marster say: 'No let him go +to de devil. Thank de Lord him none of our niggers anyhow. Him just one of Dr. +Douglas' Presbyterians niggers dat's destined to hell and be damned, I reckon."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in64" id="in64"></a>JESSE WILLIAMS<br /><br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>At the end of one of the silent streets of west Chester, S.C., that prolongs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +itself into a road leading to the Potter's Field and on to the County Poorhouse, +sets a whitewashed frame cottage. It has two rooms, the chimney in the +center providing each with a fireplace. A porch, supported by red cedar posts, +fronts the road side. In this abode lives Jesse Williams with his daughter, +Edna, and her six children. Edna pays the rent, and is a grenadier in the warfare +of keeping the wolf from the door.</p> + +<p>"You say I looks pretty old? Well, you's right 'bout de old part but I's +far 'way from de pretty part. I got a hand glass in my house and when I shaves +on Sunday mornin's, I often wonders who I is. I doesn't look lak me. My best +friend couldn't say I got much on looks, but my old dog rap his tail on de floor +lak he might say so, if him could speak.</p> + +<p>"I's been off and on dese streets of Chester for eighty-three years. I +was born a slave of Marse Adam C. Walker and my old miss was Mistress Eliza, dat's +his wife.</p> + +<p>"My pappy name Henry and mammy name Maria. I can see them plowin' in de +field right now. Mammy plowin' same as pappy and me runnin' 'long behind, takin' +de dirt off de cotton plants where de twister plow turnt de clods on de plants. +Then, when dat cotton field git white and red wid blooms in summer and white agin +in de fall, I have to shoulder my poke and go to de field and pick dat cotton. I +'members de fust day dat I pick a hundred pounds. Marse Adam pull out a big flat +black pocket-book and gived me a shinplaster, and say: 'Jesse, ever time your basket +h'ist de beam of de steelyards to 100, you gits a shinplaster.' I make eighty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +cents dat year but I have to git up when de chickens crow for day and git in +de field when de dew was heavy on de cotton. Does I think dat was cheatin'? +Oh, no sir! I wasn't 'ceivin' old marster. Him wink at dat, and take a pound +off for dew. I'd a made more money but they took me out de field in November, +to drive de mules to de hoss-gin. Dat was play work, just a settin' up dere +and poppin' de whip.</p> + +<p>"Marster live in a big two-story, eight-room house. De kitchen was out +from de house. After Christmas, dat year, I was house boy and drive de buggy +for Miss Eliza when her want to go visitin'. I was fed well and spent my money +for a knife, candy, and firecrackers.</p> + +<p>"My marster and missus have chillun. They was Peter, Jerry, Miss Elnora, +and Miss Sallie, dat I play wid in slavery time.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees didn't come as far up as Chester. They branched off down 'bout +Blackstock, took de sunrise side of dat place and march on 'cross Catawba River, +at Rocky Mount. I stay on wid Marse Adam and Miss Eliza, after freedom. I marry +a handsome gal. Yes, sir, she dark but not too shady. I harks back to them days, +as I sets here in dis rocker a talkin' to you. Did I tell you her name? Her name +just suit her. Not Jane, Polly, Mag, Sallie, and de lak of dat! Them was too +common for her. Her name Catherine, dat just fit her. Us have ten chillun and +her and all them 'cept me and three chillun done gone over to Jordan. Dere was +just one thing 'bout Catherine dat I's dubious 'bout. She lak to dance, and I +was too clumsy for to ever cut a double shuffle. I 'spect I cut a poor figure +at de frolics us went to. Does you think burnin' a candle for her would do any +good at dis late day? Why I ask you dat? Well, I has heard them say dat white +folks does dat sometimes for deir gone-on ones. My daughter, Edna say: 'It +might do you good and it could do mama no harm.' I b'longs to Mount Moriah Church +in dis very town of Chester. De preacher am Rev. Alexander. He 'low it was superstition +to burn dat candle but if I live I's gwine to light one nex' Christmas.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Us had a good marster and mistress. They was big buckra, never 'sociate +wid poor white trash. They wore de red shirt. De time come 'round when they +send me to Marse Will Harden and he pass me on to go see Marse Judge Mackey, +who live here then. Did I know Judge Mackey? Sho' I did! While he was a settin' +up dere on de bench in de court house, he have all de people laughin'. One +time de father of Marse W.B. Lindsey beat up a Radical nigger and de case come +up befo' him for trial. Great 'citement 'bout it, over de whole county. Court +house packed dat day. Solicitor rise and say: 'Please your honor, de 'fendant, +Lindsey, put in a plea of guilty.' You might have heard a breast feather of a +chicken fall, so very still was de people in dere, though de niggers and 'publicans +was a grinning wid joy. Then Judge Mackey 'low: 'Let de 'fendant stand +up.' Wid a solemn face and a solemn talk, him wound up wid: 'Derefore, de +court sentence you to de State Penitentiary at hard labor for a period of ten +years (Then him face light up, as he conclude), or pay a fine of one dollar!' +De white folks holler: 'Three cheers for Judge Mackey!' De judge git up and +bow, and say: 'Order in de court.' As dere was no quiet to be got, clerk +'journed de court. De judge take his silk beaver hat and gold headed cane and +march out, while de baliffs holler: 'Make way! Make way for de honorable judge!' +Everybody took up dat cry and keep it up long as de judge was on de streets. Oh, +how dat judge twirl his cane, smile, and strut.</p> + +<p>"Did I ever see a spirit? 'Spect I has and I sho' have felt one more than +once. 'Spect I was born wid a caul over my eyes. When de last quarter of de +moon come in de seventh month of a seventh year, is de most time you see spirits. +Lyin' out in de moon, befo' daybreak, I's smelt, I's heard, I's seed and I's felt +Catherine's spirit in de moon shadows. I come nigh ketchin' hold of her one night, +as I wake up a dreamin' 'bout her but befo' I could set up, I hear her pass 'way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +through de treetops dat I was layin', dreamin' under.</p> + +<p>"Then another time, I was settin' here 'bout four o'clock in de moonlight +a lookin' 'cross de street to de town hall. I see sumpin' rise and jump upon +dat rock a lyin' dere 'ginst de town hall. It was de figger of a man. Who it +was I don't know, though they de call de rock de 'Aaron Burr Rock', 'cause he +made a speech standin' on dat rock, long befo' I was born. De people in de +library can tell you 'bout dat speech. Maybe Dr. Lathan tell you 'bout it. +Him ninety-five years old dis last past twelfth day of May and knows all 'bout +de days dat are gone.</p> + +<p>"I live wid my daughter, Edna, and I just can make it back dere from de +post office every day."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code: Folk-Lore</b><br /> +<b>Project 1885 -1-</b><br /> +<b>District #4</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>May 26, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in65" id="in65"></a>FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>Aunt Mary Williams stated she remembered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +slavery times, for she was a girl large enough to walk four +miles to go to work "while slavery was on". She said Mr. +Alfred Brown used to own her mother, but she was raised by +Mrs. Margaret Taylor who used to live where the oil mill is +now, below Arkwright Mills. Her father was owned by Mr. +Simpson Bobo and drove his horse for him. She stated she +was a good hoe-hand, but didn't pick cotton, as Mr. Brown +didn't raise any cotton, just raised something to eat.</p> + +<p>She said her master was a kind man, +didn't allow any "paterollers" on his place, yet she had +seen other slaves on other plantations with bloody backs +and arms from the whippings they got. When asked why they +were whipped, she replied, "Just because their masters could +whip them; they owned them and could do what they wanted to +them". Her master didn't allow any whipping on his place. +One time he kept a slave from another plantation who was +fleeing the "paterollers" on his place and in his own house +until he was set free.</p> + +<p>"I'se got the looking glasses and the thimble +my great-grandmother used to use when she worked. She was a +good weaver and a good sewer. She made a man an overcoat once, +but didn't get but $1.25 for it; she made a pair of men's +breeches and got fifty cents for making them. They didn't +get nothing for making clothes in those days".<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> + +<p>She remembered when the Yankee soldiers came +into Spartanburg. She said they took all they could get, +stole something to eat, just went into the stores and took +liquor and handed it out drink by drink to the other soldiers. +Aunt Mary stated she saw Abe Lincoln when he came through +Spartanburg; said he was armed himself and had soldiers all +around him. He told the colored folks who seemed scared of +him that he wasn't going to hurt anybody, not to be scared +of him. (Here she must have confused Lincoln with some one +else, probably Colonel Palmer, who commanded a detachment +in pursuit of Jefferson Davis, which stopped over-night in +Spartanburg in April, 1865. FK.)</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Aunt Mary Williams, 391 Cudd St., Spartanburg, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.3em;">Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1655</b><br /> +<b>Genevieve W. Chandler</b><br /> +<b>Georgetown County, S.C.</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>FOLKLORE</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in66" id="in66"></a>EX-SLAVE STORY<br /><br /> +UNCLE WILLIS WILLIAMS</h3> + + +<p>"When wuz I born? Born in August. When I wuz born been August. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +wuz a man grown pulling boxes, (turpentine boxes) when the shake wuz. I +know the very night the shake come——on a Wednesday night. I wuz on +door step loosing my shoe string. There wuz more religion then than they +is now. Praying and prayer meeting for a month. Everybody tend meeting.</p> + +<p>"I been with the Yankee. I kin tell you bout the Yankee. They come +home there to Rock Creek when the war wuz breaking up and carried me to +Fayetteville. (N.C.) Kept me with 'em till Johnson surrendered in Raleigh,——then +they kept me in Goldsboro and took me on to Petersburg. After +everything over they give me free transportation back home. Free on train +back to Fayetteville. They had put all the Yankee clothes on me,——all +the blue shirt, blue coat and bumps on the shoulder,—and when they start +me home took all the Yankee clothes way from me. Put gray clothes on me and +sent me back. I member they took me up in a way-up-yonder building—to +Richmond. Couldn't tell you the depth of it. Man on the ground looked like +boy.</p> + +<p>"The man I belonged to been Mass John A. Williams. (Born on the Cape +Fear.) I goes by Mass John name—Williams. His sons been John, James, +Charlie, Wallis, William, James. James come home from army sick. Had the +mumps; thirty days furlough.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Member when the Yankees come. Been Sunday morning. Ride up to the +gate on horses. Old Boss happened to come out and walk to the lot. I +happened to be at gate. They took his watch out his pocket, his pistol—had +it girded to him—and took all he whiskey and catch chickens and +guinea and take them all. Then they gone in the lot and took two breeding +mares and hitch them in wagon and loaded wagon full o' corn. Then they took +the two carriage horses and hitched to carriage, and gone to smoke-house, +and fill that carriage full of all Mass John sides of meat and ham and +shoulders. I been following and watching to see what all they going to take, +and a soldier looked at me and say,</p> + +<p>"'Come on little Nigger! Wanter go?'</p> + +<p>"And I done like another fool! I rode off behind the two brood mares, +on the corn, and where they rested that night, I rested right there.</p> + +<p>"It was mighty cold up there. I suffered a heap in the cold fore I +got back home. They give me a horse,—saddled and bridled,—and a +little bayonet gun. Put me on that horse to drive cattle. Tell me to take +all I see. Didn't except nobody cattle. Night come put 'em in pasture—put +'em in anybody field—on the oats, rye, wheat.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes rain sho fall.—Had to tend that bunch of cattle rain +or no rain. Didn't kill one beef and stop! (Kill) FOUR beeves a day. Go +out git the hog and kill 'em. Skin 'em. Didn't scald 'em and clean 'em like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +we do. Just eat the ham. Rest throw way. Gone to Wilmington, Fayetteville, +Rookfish and Beaver Creek.</p> + +<p>"General Sherman? Has I hear bout him? I SEEN him! He had a big +name but he warn't such a big man; he was a little spare made man. I +member now when I seed him the last time. He had two matched horses going +down to Petersburg. Six guards riding by the side of his turnout. Oh my +God, what clothes he had on! He was dressed down in finest uniform.</p> + +<p>"When I leave the Yankee they give me $35.00 in money. I been so +fool had never seen no green back. Throwed it away eating crackers and +peanuts. And I bought some brogan shoes. If I'd a helt on to that, I'd a +been some body today.</p> + +<p>"I members it was Sunday morning that General Johnson throwed up his +hand at Raleigh. Done with the war!</p> + +<p>"Before Freedom I have a good enough time. Just lay round the house +and wait on my boss. When Freedom come and I did have to get out and work it +most kill me!</p> + +<p>"After Freedom my mother wash for family to Beaver Creek. And after +Freedom my father went to working on shares. Old Maas John called 'em up +and tell 'em,</p> + +<p>"'You free, Asa. You free, Lewis. You free, Handy. You free, Wash.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +You can do as you please. You have to fadge for yourself now.'</p> + +<p>"Mass John Williams had four hundred slaves. He was a man had the +colored people. He didn't work all on his own plantation. He'd hire +out his people to work turpentine.——Put 'em out for so much a year. +He'd give 'em blanket, suit, coat, pants. First of the year come, Boss +would collect wages for all he hire out.</p> + +<p>"That there my second wife. You know how a man is. How many wife +I had? Two or three. Lemme see! (Looking at present wife) You is one! +You the last one! Fust one been Jinny Lind. Next one been Mary Dickson. +And Caressa Pyatt been one! And there been another one! I forgot that +woman name! Got it in my mouth and can't call it! I'll call the name of +them others I take up with in a little while! One was Caline; one was Tissue; +(Tisha?) I take them a little while and if they didn't do to suit me, I put +'em out! Some I didn't stay with long nuff to find out they name! Jinny +Lind sister was Tissue. Jinny Lind gone, try her sister. Just a 'make out'. +If they didn't do to suit me, I'd give 'em the devil and put 'em out.</p> + +<p>"Don't know bout beating woman. Some say that bout,</p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +'Woman, dog, cypress knee<br /> +more you beat'em the better they be!' +</div></div> + +<p>"But some woman, the more you beat 'em the worse the devil gets in 'em. +Get so they won't 'GEE' nor 'HAW'.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When I was house boy for old Mass John, waiting on white people, +that was the best and easiest time I ever had. Ever Satdy drive Mass John +to Fayetteville. Ever Satdy they'd think that store belong to me! I'd eat +lumps of brown sugar out the barrel, candy, crackers. Did as I please then; +NOW do as I kin!</p> + +<p>"'Ways of woman and ways of snake deeper than the sea!' I take that +to mean——mighty few can tell by the trail of a snake whether its coming +or going——</p> + +<p>"I hear story bout the rabbit and the fox—all them old things—Some +times my mind franzy. Been break up too much! Break two ribs to the +lumber mill. Jump out a cart one day and run a ten penny nail through my +foot. That lay me up two months. Some mean people ketch me up by that tree +yonder with a car and that lay me up sixty-five days. They pick me up for +dead that time. All that make my mind get franzy sometimes. Come and go—Come +and go."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: Uncle Willis Williams. Age, 89 to 90 years old. Conway, S.C. +(Horry County).</p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>May 25, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in67" id="in67"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I was a Garmany before I married Calvin Wilson. My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +father was Henry Garmany, and my mother Sidney Boozer. My +husband was in the Confederate army with his master. Dey was +near Charleston on de coast. I was slave of Lemuel Lane, of +de Dutch Fork. He was killed after de war, some say by some +of his young slaves, but we'uns did not know naything about +who killed him. We had a good house to live in on Marse Lane's +plantation. I used to work around the house and in de fields. +My mother was a good seamstress and helped de white folks sew, +and she learn't me to sew had help too. We didn't get any +money for our work. One time after de war, dey paid me only +$5.00 and I quit 'em. My mother hired me out to work for her, +and I didn't have any money, still; so I said I better get me +a man of my own. Marse Lane was mean to most of us, but good +to me. He whipped me once and I deserved it because I wouldn't +answer him when he called me. He jes' give me about two licks. +He was mean to my mother, but he wouldn't let his white overseer +whip us, and wouldn't let de padder-rollers come around. +He said he could look-out for his own slaves.</p> + +<p>"We didn't learn to read and write, but some of de white +folks had learned my mother, and she learned me some.</p> + +<p>"Niggers had to go to church at New Hope, de white folks' +church, in slavery time and after de war too. We had Saturday +afternoons to do what we wanted, and we washed clothes then.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>"On Christmas, Marse would give de slaves some good +things to eat and send some to dere families. Niggers had +frolics at dere houses sometimes on Saturday nights. When I +married, I had a good hot supper.</p> + +<p>"Children played all de ole games like, play-ball (throwing +over the house), marbles and base.</p> + +<p>"Some saw ghosts, but I never saw any of dem.</p> + +<p>"Old-time cures was peach tree leaves boiled and drunk +for fever; wild cherry bark was good for most anything if took +at night. I have used it for curing some things. The best cure +I know, is turpentine and a little oil mixed. Swallow it and it +will fix you up.</p> + +<p>"The Yanks went through our place and took two of the +best horses we had. One had a tail that reached the ground. Dey +stole lots of victuals. I 'member de Ku Klux wid dere long +white sheets, and den de Red Coats wid white breeches. Dey would +walk or ride, but dey never harmed us.</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about Abe Lincoln, but I reckon he +was a good man, and Jeff Davis, too. I don't know Booker Washington +but heard he was a good man.</p> + +<p>"I joined de church because de white folks did. Dey +wants to go to heaven and I do too. I think everybody ought to +try to do right. I used to think we could make heaven down here, +but if we jes' do right, dats all we can do."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Emoline Wilson (90), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 21, 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>Sept. 22, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in68" id="in68"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I was born in Newberry County near Cannon's Creek section<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +in the Dutch Fork. I was a slave of Lemuel Lane. He was killed by +some slaves just after freedom. They killed him for his money but +didn't find any, it was said. When freedom come, my mistress give +me some things to eat when we left.</p> + +<p>"I can't work much any more; I am old and I can't get about. +I live with my son who works when he can find work. We rent a two-room +cottage in town.</p> + +<p>"I never heard anything about slaves getting 40 acres of +land and a mule. None in that section got any. We had to go to +work for other people.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux Klan never bothered us then, and we never had +nothing to do with them, nor with politics.</p> + +<p>"There was no slaves living in our section who had come +from Virginia."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Emoline Wilson (90), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/10/37</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">(See ES IV, MS. #13).</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>FOLKLORE</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>June 15, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in69" id="in69"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"I am daughter of Billy Robertson and Louisa Robertson; was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +born about 77 years ago in Newberry, on Marse Job Johnstone's +place. My father lived with Judge Job Johnstone as his extra man +or servant. He lived in the house with him, slept in his room and +waited on him when he became old; and, too, was the driver of his +carriage. He drove him to other courthouses to hold court. After +the war, my father was janitor at Newberry College, and he was +liked by professors, students, and everybody who knew him as +'Uncle Billy'. At commencement, he always made a speech at night +on the campus, which the students enjoyed. He told about his +travels from Virginia to Newberry before the war. Judge Johnstone +never wanted anybody else to be with him when he traveled.</p> + +<p>"I belonged to the Avelleigh Presbyterian Church in Newberry, +and was christened in the church by the preacher, the Rev. Buist. +Colored people were allowed to be members and set in the gallery +when they went to church.</p> + +<p>"After the war, a colored man named Amos Baxter was killed +by the Ku Klux at the old courthouse. My father was on Judge +Johnstone's farm a few miles away. He was sent for and came with +another colored man to town, and prayed and preached over the body +of Baxter. The Ku Klux came to kill my father for doing this, but +they never caught him.</p> + +<p>"I had to stay home most of the time and help mama keep +house. I never worked in the field but once, and the job was so +poor they put me back in the house. That was the old Nance place.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Once I saw a man hung in Newberry. He was a negro named +Thompson and killed a white man named Reid. He killed him at a +store in Pomaria and burned it over his body. He was hung near the +railroad, and a big crowd was there to see it. That was my first +time to see a man hung, and I promised God it would be my last. +They asked the negro if he had anything to say, and give him five +minutes to talk. He was setting on a box smoking; then he got up +and said he reckoned his time was over, he was sorry for all the +bad things he had done; that he had killed a boy once for 25 cents, +and had killed a little girl for 20 cents. He was sorry for his +wife and three weeks old baby. His wife saw him hung.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux wanted to kill any white people who was Republicans. +They killed some negroes. A white man named Murtishaw +killed Lee Nance, a store keeper. I was a little girl and saw it. +Some little children was standing out in front. Murtishaw came +up and said he wanted to buy something or pretended he wanted to; +then he went up to Nance, pulled his pistol quick and shot him +through the throat and head.</p> + +<p>"Judge Johnstone's kitchen was away from the house, a brick +building. They had large ovens and wide fireplaces in which they +cooked.</p> + +<p>"My father's favorite horses, when he drove the family, was +'Knox' and 'Calvin', which they kept for many years. When they +died the mistress cried awfully about it.</p> + +<p>"My husband died at old Mr. Dan Ward's place, on College +Hill, where he was living then."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Jane Wilson (77), Newberry, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/9/37)</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, June 11, 1937</b> +</div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in70" id="in70"></a>MOM GENIA WOODBERRY<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 89 years</h3> + + +<p>"Glad to see yunnah. Who dese udder wid yah? Who yuh?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +Lawd, I glad to see yunnah. I nu'se aw Miss Susan fust +chillun. Ne'er nu'se dem las'uns. Sicily been yo' mamma +nu'se. Nu'se Massa Ben Gause child fust en den I nu'se +four head uv Miss Susan chillun a'ter she marry Massa Jim +Stevenson. Sleep right dere wid dem chillun aw de time. +Miss Susan ne'er didn't suckle none uv dem chillun. I tell +yunnah dis much, Massa Jim Stevenson was good to aw uv his +colored people en Miss Susan wuz good to me. I sho' born +right down yonner to Massa Ben Gause plantation. Gade Caesar +en Mary Gause wuz my parents. Yas'um, I is glad to see dese +chillun cause yuh know whey white folks hab feeling fa yah, +it sho' make yuh hab feeling fa dey chillun. I ole now en +I can' 'member eve'yt'ing but I ain' ne'er forge' wha' good +times dem wuz."</p> + +<p>"My Lawd! Yas, my Lawd, de peoples lib well dere to Massa +Jim Stevenson plantation. De white folks hab big house dere +wid eve'yt'ing 'bout it jes lak uh town. I couldn't tell +yunnah how many colored peoples dey hab dere but I know dis, +I hear em say dere wuz more den two hundred uv em dat lib +in de quarter. Dey house wuz in uh field offen to itself +dere on de plantation en wuz strung aw up en down in two +long row lak. Dey wuz set up in good libin' den."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Coase I ain' lib dere in de quarter wid de udder +colored peoples a'ter I ge' big 'nough to be nu'se girl, +but I know how dey fare dere. My Massa hab uh smoke +house full uv meat en uh barn full uv corn aw de time +en eve'y Friday a'ternoon aw de colored peoples hadder +do wuz to go dere to de big house en ge' dey share uv +meat en 'lasses en corn to las' em de whole week. Ne'er +hadder worry nuthin 'bout it tall. Dey hab dey gristmill +right dere whey dey grind dat corn eve'y week. Yah ain' +ne'er see no sech barn en heap uv meat dese days uz dey +hab den. Dem hog killin' days wuz big times fa dem +plantation peoples. It jes lak I tellin' yunnah my Massa +gi'e he colored peoples mos' eve't'ing dey hab en den he +'low eve'y family to hab uh acre uv land uv dey own to +plant. Hadder work dat crop in de night. Make light wid +fat light'ud stump wha' to see by. Dat crop wha' dey buy +dey Sunday clothes wid. Ne'er hadder hunt no clothes but +dey Sunday clothes cause dey hab seamstress right dere on +de plantation to make aw us udder clothes. Miss Susan +larnt Aun' Cynthia en Starrah en Tenna to cut en sew dere +to de big house en a'ter dat dey ne'er do nuthin but make +de plantation clothes."</p> + +<p>"Aw de colored peoples dere to Miss Susan plantation +hab dey certain business to go 'bout eve'y day en dey ne'er<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +didn't shirk dat neither. Miss Susan ain' 'low fa no +slack way 'round whey she was. Dere been Yaneyki wha' +hadder jes wait on Miss Susan; Becky, de house girl; +Aun' Hannah, de one wha' cook in de big house; Aun' +Dicey, wha' al'ays clean up de white folks kitchen; en +Sanco, de house boy. Den I wuz de nu'se dere fa dem +chillun. Ne'er lak it but I ha'e it to do. Hadder stay +right dere to de big house aw de time. Miss Susan ne'er +wouldn't 'low me take dem chillun 'way offen no whey en +eve'ybody hadder be mindful uv wha' dey say 'fore dem +chillun too. I 'member dat big ole joggling board dere +on de front piazza dat I use'er ge' de chillun to sleep +on eve'y evenin'. I be dere singin' one uv dem baby song +to de child en it make me hu't lak in me bosom to be wid +my ole mammy back up dere in de quarter. Coase I ain' le' +nobody know dat. Dere ain' nobody ne'er been no better +den Miss Susan wuz to me. It jes lak dis, I wuz jes uh +child den en yah know it uh child happiness to be raise +up wid dey mammy."</p> + +<p>"Den de colored peoples lib mighty peaceful lak dere +in de quarter cause dey ne'er hadder worry 'bout how nuthin +come. My Massa see dat dey hab decent libin' aw de time en +'bundance uv eve't'ing dey need. Hadder keep 'round 'bout +dey premises clean up eve'whey. I tellin' yuh, child, my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +white folks wuz 'ticular uv dey colored peoples when dey +wuz sick. Dey hab big ole me'icine book dat dey take down +when one uv dem ge' sick en see could dey find wha' wuz +good fa dey ailment. Den Miss Susan'ud send in de woods +en ge' wha' it say mix up fa de remedy en make de me'icine +right dere to de big house. Miss Susan'ud al'ays doctor +de plantation peoples en carry em nice basket uv t'ing +eve'y time dey wuz sick. Effen Miss Susan t'ink dey hab +mucha co'plaint, den dey'ud send fa de plantation doctor +'bout dere. Annuder t'ing dey ne'er didn't 'low de +colored girls to work none tall 'fore dey wuz shape lak uh +'oman cause dey 'fraid dat might strain dey ne'ves."</p> + +<p>"Aw de colored peoples wha' ne'er hab no work to do +'bout de big house wuz field hand en dey hadder ge' up at +de fust crow uv de cock in de morning en go up to de big +house en see wha' dey wan' em to do dat day. Coase dey +eat dey break'ast 'fore dey leab de quarter. Effen de sun +look lak it wuz gwinna shine, de o'erseer'ud send em in de +field to work en dey'ud stay in de field aw day till sun +up in de evenin'. Carry dey basket uv victual en pot 'long +wid em en cook right dere in de field. Jes put dey peas en +bacon in de pot en build up big fire 'bout it close whey dey +wuz workin' cause eve'y now en den dey hadder push de fire +to de pot. Den some uv de day dey'ud go in de tatoe patch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +en dig tatoe en roast em in de coals. Effen it wuz uh +rainy day, dey ne'er go in de field. Shuck corn dat day. +Dat wuz how dey done."</p> + +<p>"Aw dem wha' work right dere to de big house al'ays +wuz fed from Miss Susan table to de kitchen. Dere wuz +Gran'mudder Phoebe who hadder look a'ter eve't'ing 'bout +Miss Susan dairy. De plantation peoples'ud bring dey gourd +eve'y morning en leab it dere to de dairy fa Gran'mudder +Phoebe to hab fill wid clabber fa em to carry home in de +evenin'. Den when Gran'mudder Phoebe wuz finish wid aw de +churning, she use'er pour wha' clabber wuz left o'er in uh +big ole wooden tray under uh tree dere close to de dairy en +call aw dem little plantation chillun dere whey she wuz. +She gi'e eve'yone uv em uh iron spoon en le' em eat jes uz +mucha dat clabber uz dey c'n hold. A'ter dat she clean up +eve'yt'ing 'bout de dairy en den she go to de big house en +ge' her dinner. Gran'mudder Phoebe say she could set down +en eat wid sati'faction den cause she know she wuz t'rough +wid wha' been her portion uv work dat day."</p> + +<p>"Den dere wuz Patience wha' work to de loom house. She +help do aw de weaving fa de plantation. Weave aw t'rough +de winter en aw t'rough de summer. She make aw kinder uv +pretty streak in de cloth outer de yarn dat dey dye right +dere on de plantation wid t'ing dat dey ge' outer de woods +lak walnut wha' make brown, en cedar en sweet gum wha' make +purple. Den dey make de blue cloth outer dat t'ing dat dey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +raise right dere on de plantation call indigo. Dere some +uv dat indigo dat does grow up dere on de Sand Hills dis +day en time but ain' nobody ne'er worry 'bout it no more."</p> + +<p>"Jes uh little way from de loom house wuz de shoe house +whey Uncle Lon'on hadder make shoe aw de day. I 'member +dey is make aw de plantation shoe dere. Make em outer +cow hide wha' dey hadder tan fust. Jes put de cow hide in +uh trough en kiver it aw o'er wid oak en water en le' it +soak till de hair come offen it. Den dey take it outer dat +en beat it 'cross uh log hard uz dey c'n till dey ge' it +right soft lak. A'ter dat ley out de shoe lak dey wan' it +en sew it up wid dem long hair wha' dey ge' outer de hosses +neck. Dat jes de way dey make aw we shoe den."</p> + +<p>"Minus en Chrissus Gause hab job dere to de gin house. +Dey'ud jes put de cotton in dat gin en de seed go one way +en de lent go de udder way. Minus hadder feed de gin en +dem udder helper hadder hand de cotton. Den Bacchus hadder +work de screw dat press de bale togedder. Yunnah chillun +ain' ne'er see nuthin lak dat dese days. Dem hosses pull +dat t'ing round en round en dat screw ge' tighter en tighter. +Turn out pretty uh bale uv cotton us yunnah e'er hear 'bout +in no time tall. My Lawd, I 'member dey is hab bale uv cotton +pile up aw 'bout dat gin house."</p> + +<p>"En dey is hab dey own blacksmith shop dere on de place +down to de place call de big water. Aw dem peoples from +plantation aw 'bout come dere fa Fortune to mend dey plow en +t'ing lak dat."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yas'um, plantation peoples hadder go dere to de Ole +Neck Chu'ch eve'y Sunday. I hear em say dat wuz uh Methodist +Chu'ch. Aw dem well to do folks hab dey own pew up dere in +de front uv de chu'ch wha dey set on eve'y Sunday. Dey seat +wuz painted pretty lak uh bedstead en den de poor peoples +set in de middle uv de chu'ch in de yellow kind uv seat. Aw +de colored peoples hadder set in de blue seat in de back uv +de chu'ch. Peoples ne'er rank togedder den lak yah see de +peoples rank togedder dese days. Miss Susan Stevenson en +Miss Harriett Woodberry en Miss Maggie McWhite wuz de ones +wha' pull togedder den. Know dey chillun time dey hit dat +chu'ch door. C'n tell em by dey skin. My blessed, chillun, +dere wuz sech uh diffe'ence."</p> + +<p>"Dat Ole Neck Chu'ch de same chu'ch wha' yunnah see +stand two mile up dat road. Dem peoples oughtna hadder move +dat chu'ch neither cause it been dere long time 'fore dey +come heah. Ain' been right to do dat. Dem wha' put dat +chu'ch dere bury right dere in dat cemetery right 'bout whey +dey chu'ch wuz en dem udder peoples ain' hab no right to take +dey chu'ch 'way a'ter dey been gone."</p> + +<p>"De peoples ne'er hab no cars lak dese peoples hab 'bout +heah now. My white folks hab carriage en two big ole white +hosses wha' to ride to se'vice en whey dey wanna go den. Coase +dey ne'er go aw de time lak dese peoples does dis day en time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +Lawd, dem hosses could pull dat carriage too. Dey wuz name +Selam en Prince. My Massa en Missus hab seat in de back uv +de carriage en I hadder set up dere 'tween dem en de driver +en nu'se dem chillun. Isaac wuz Miss Susan driver en he hab +seat aw uv he own on de front whey he could mind de hosses. +My Lawd, I 'member how I did use'er lub to set up dere in +Miss Susan carriage."</p> + +<p>"Dese peoples dese days don' know nuthin 'bout dem times +den. I 'member how dey use'er sell de colored peoples offen +to annuder plantation some uv de time. Man come dere to buy +my Gran'mudder a'ter Massa Ben Gause die en tell her to open +she mouth so he c'n 'xamine her teeth. Say she say, 'I won' +do it.' Wanna know effen dey wuz sound 'fore he buy her. +Dat de way dey do when dey sell hosses."</p> + +<p>"I 'member when dem Yankees come 'bout dere too. Hear +Massa Jim Stevenson say dey mus' herry en hide dey va'uables +cause de Yankees wuz comin' t'rough dere en sweep em out. +Dey bury dey silver en dey gold watch in de graveyard up in +de Beech Field. (De Beech Field wuz de place whey de Indian +use'er camp long time ago cause de peoples use'er find aw +kinder bead en arrow head wha' dey left dere.) Den Miss +Susan put trunk full uv her nice t'ing to de colored peoples +house. Ain' been 'fraid de Yankees bother em dere. Didn't +no Yankees come no whey 'bout dere till a'ter freedom 'clare +en den two uv em come dere en stay right dere to de big house. +Dey come to 'vide outer de corn. Hab pile uv corn sot aw 'bout<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +de born (barn) dere wid name uv de colored peoples stick +'bout in eve'y pile."</p> + +<p>"Yas'um, I 'member dat aw right. Marry in March dere +to my pa house. Us ne'er left Massa Jim Stevenson plantation +a'ter freedom 'clare. Ne'er wanna hunt no better libin' +den we hab dere. My Lawd, dere sho' wuz big doing 'bout +dere when I go' hitch up to Joe Woodberry. Pa kill uh +shoat en dey bake cake en hab aw kinder ration cook up. +I hab pretty dress make outer white swiss muslin wha' I +marry in en aw dem peoples wuz dress up dat evenin'. Dat +wuz pretty uh sight uz dere e'er wuz when dey ge' to blowing +dat cane en knockin' dem stick en dey aw wuz uh jiggin' +'bout."</p> + +<p>"Chillun, seem lak aw de good time gone from heah now. +Peoples sho' gotta scuffle fa wha' dey hab dis day en time +en den effen dey ge' it, dere ain' no sati'faction no whey +'bout it. T'ing ain' gwinna do nobody no good effen dey +gotta worry dey head so mucha 'bout whey de next comin' +from."</p> + +<p>"Good day, honey. Come back 'g'in. Yunnah white en +I black, but I lub yuh."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source</span>: MOM GENIA WOODBERRY (Eugenia Woodeberry), age<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">89, colored, Britton's Neck, S.C. (Personal +interview, June 1937)</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, November 23, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in71" id="in71"></a>JULIA WOODBERRY<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, Age ____</h3> + + + +<p>"Come in, child. Dis ain' nobody talkin to you from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +behind dat door, but Julia Woodberry. De door unlatch, +just turn de handle en come right in here whe' you can +warm yourself by de stove. I tell my daughter for her +to take de sick child en walk over dere en make Aun' Liney +a visit, while I wipe round bout dis stove a little speck. +Cose I ain' able to scour none much, but seems like dis old +stove does keep everything so nasty up dat I can' let things +bout it get too worser. No, child, I tell dese chillun I +done seen most all my scourin days, but I think bout I would +do this little job for Alexa dis mornin en let her put her +mind to dat child. I say, if I able, I loves to wipe up +cause it such a satisfaction. It just like dis, dere ain' +nothin gwine shine dat floor en make it smell like I want +it to, but soap en water. I don' like dese old stoves nohow. +I ain' been raise to dem cause when I come up, de olden people +didn' think nothin bout puttin no stoves to dey fireplaces. +Oh, dey would have dese big old open fireplaces en would have +de grandest kind of fires. My Lord, child, dere wouldn' never +be no nastiness bout dey fireplace cause de people never didn' +burn no coal in dem days. Slavery people been burn dese great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +big oak logs en dey would make de finest kind of fires, I +say. Yes, mam, I been raise up de slavery way en dat how-come +I don' want to be noways departin from it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dat was my granddaughter dat had de straw fever. +Yes, mam, look like she mendin right smart since she been +settin up. De straw fever, dat what I calls it, but I hear +people say it de hay fever. De doctor, he just say it de +fever, but from de way he give de pills, it point to de +straw fever. Cose dat what we termed it, but like I tell +you, some calls it de hay fever. I ain' never hear talk +of dat kind of fever till dese late years. Yes, mam, she +had a little cold en cough some, but not much. You see, +when she first took down, she took wid a blindness en a +pain in de stomach at de school en couldn' say nothin. De +doctor say de fever was bout broke on her den. You see, +she had de pain en, I say, dat a sign de misery broke on +her. But dat child, she lay dere on dat bed three weeks +en she been mighty weak, mighty weak from de fever. No, mam, +she ain' have de fever all de time, but dere would come a +slow fever dat would rise on her every night en eat up what +strength she had caught durin de day. Cose she ain' never +been hearty cause she been havin dis fever long bout two +years. No, mam, she been test for de T.B.'s in de school dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +last year en dey say dat she never had none of dat. Alexa +say she gwine let her get dem shots in time next year. All +de school chillun took dem last year. Dey tell me dat be to +keep diseases down in school. Cose I don' know nothin bout +it cause I been raise de slavery way en dat won' de talk den.</p> + +<p>"My mother, she was a freeborn woman. She come from off +de sea beach in our own country. Her people was dese Chee +Indians en she didn' have no ways like dese other people bout +here. Now, I talkin out of her. Ain' talkin out of nobody +else, but her. She told me she was born on de sea beach en +her parents was Chee Indians. Dat what she told us chillun. +Say, when dey stole her en her brother John, dey come dere +in dese big old covered wagons en dey stuffed dem way back +up in dere en carried dem off. Oh, she say, she was a big +girl when dey run her down en caught her. Like I tell you, +I talkin out of her. Her en her brother John was out playin +one day, near their sea beach home, en first thing dey know, +dere come one of dem big old covered wagons dere. Say, dey +never know what to think till dey see dis white man gettin +down off de wagon en start makin for dem en dey get scared +cause dey been learn white man won' no friend. Say, dey broke en +run, but de man come right after dem en grabbed dem up wid +his hands en stuffed dem way back up in de covered wagon en +drove off. She say, she was runnin hard as she could from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +de man. I remember, I heard my mother speak bout dat she +didn' reckon her mother ever knew whe' dey went. She say, +dey cried en cried, but dat never do no good. No, mam, de +lawyer Phillips stole her. He didn' buy her cause she told +me dey brought dem right on to his home en put dem out dere. +Her en her brother John were made house servants in de big +house en dey went from one to de other in de Phillips' +family till after freedom come here. Ma, she say dat she +fared good en dey didn' ill treat her no time, but wouldn' +never allow dem to get out de family no more durin slavery +days. No, mam, she never didn' have no hard time comin up. +Cose she had to put de white people chillun to bed at night +en den she could go to parties cross Catfish much as she +wanted to, but she would have to be back in time to cook dat +breakfast next mornin. You see, dey was house servants en +dey stayed right dere in de lawyer Phillips' house all de +time. Been raise right down dere in dat grove of cedars +cross from de jail."</p> + +<p>"Well, she didn' say bout dat. No, mam, she didn' have +no word bout whe' if she liked de white folks livin or no +when she first come dere. You know, when you in Rome, you +has to do as Rome do. Reckon dat de way de poor creature +took it. No, child, she didn' tell us nothin bout her home +no more den dat she was born a Chee Indian. Yes, mam, my +blessed old mother told me dat a thousand times."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My God, my God, child, I couldn' never forget my old +mother's face. She bore a round countenance all de time +wid dese high cheek bones en straight hair. I talkin out +of her now. Yes, mam, can see Ma face dere fore my eyes +right now. It de blessed truth, my old mother didn' have +no common ways bout her nowhe'. I don' know whe' it true +or no, but de people used to say I took after my mother. I +recollects, when I would be workin round de white folks, +dey would ax me how-come I been have dem kind of way bout +me what was different from de other colored people. You +know, de Indians, dey got curious ways. My mother, she +wouldn' never take a thing from nobody en she was sharp +to pick a fight. Yes, mam, she was quick as dat. (Slaps +her hands together.) Been fast gettin insulted. Anybody +make her mad, she would leave away from dem en dey wouldn' +see her no more in a month or two. Hear boss say dat she +was quick tempered."</p> + +<p>"Well, child, dat bout all I can know to speak bout +dis mornin. You see, some days I can get my 'membrance +back better den I can on another day. I say, I gwine get +my mind fixed up wid a heap to tell you de next time you +come here en if you ain' come back, I gwine try en get round +dere to your house. God bless you, honey."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source</span>: Julia Woodberry, Ex-Slave, Age 70-80, Marion, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview by Annie R. Davis, Nov., 1937.</span></p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, November 30, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in72" id="in72"></a>JULIA WOODBERRY<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, Age ____</h3> + + + +<p>"Oh, my God a mercy, child, dat been a time when dat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +shake come here. I tell you, dat been somethin. I sho +remember all bout dat cause I been a grown woman de year +dat earthquake come here. Yes, mam, I gwine tell it to +you just like I experience it. We had all just been get +over wid us supper en little things dat night en I had +washed Auntie en Mr. Rowell's feet for dem to lie down +en dere come such a sketch of clouds from over in dat +direction dat I never know what to make of it. Auntie +en Mr. Rowell never know what to make of it neither. I +remember, I run out to help my sister dat been out to de +paddlin block en, honey, you ain' never live to see no +black cloud like dat been. I washed a piece through en +den I left off en went back in de house en set down by +de fire to dry my feet. I set dere awhile en seems like +somethin just speak right out de fire, bout dat time, en +tell me to move my feet dat I was in bad shape. En, child, +it de truth of mercy, dere come a big clog of dirt out dat +chimney en drap (drop) right down in de spot whe' my foot +was. I run to Auntie en Mr. Rowell to see could dey tell +what dat was, but dey been in just as much darkness as I +been. I look up en seems like de loft had lowered itself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +en could hear a roarin for miles en miles bout dere en +could hear de people hollerin every which a way. Yes, +mam, could hear dem hollerin miles en on top of miles +bout dere. My God, dem people was scared to lie down +dat night en such a prayin en a shoutin as everybody do +dat night, I ain' never see de like fore den. Ain' see +de like since den neither. Next mornin, I go to work +for de white folks en dey all go off dat mornin en I tell +you, I was scared bout to death in dat big house by myself. +I remember, I left out de house en been out in de 'tatoe +patch grabblin 'tatoes right along en when I raise up, dat +thing was comin down dat 'tatoe row just a whirlin en a +makin right for me. Yes, mam, I been so scared. I ain' see +whe' I is grow a bit since de shake. I tell you, I thought +it was de Jedgment. Den we hear dere was gwine be another +earthquake, but de people get on dey knees en dey stay on +dey knees en it never come here dat time. Dat one was in +another state, so dey tell me. I hear talk dat all de earth +caved in en you could see de people down dere, but couldn' nobody +get dem. Some people say dat been de devil do dat, but I tell +dem de devil ain' had no such power. De Lord been de power dat +bring dat shake here, I say."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord, de people sho fared better in dat day en time +den dey do dese days. Cose dey didn' have a heap of different +kind of trashy things like dey have dese days, but dey had a +plenty to eat en a plenty to wear all de time en den everything +was better in dem times, too. Now, I speak bout what +I know bout. De rations eat better en de cloth wear better, +too, in dem days den dey do now. You see, mostly, de people +would make dey own provisions at home. White folks would +raise abundance of hogs en cows to run all dey big plantation +from one year to de other. Wouldn' never clear out of meat +no time cause de stock been let loose to run at large in dem +days. De most dat dey bought was dey sugar en dey coffee, +but dem what was industrious en smart, dey made most dey +victuals at home. Made dey own rice en winnowed it right +dere home. Oh, dey had one of dese pestle en mortar to beat +it out. Yes, mam, de pestle been big at one end an little at +de other end. Den dey would raise turkeys en geese en chickens +en dere wasn' no end to de birds en squirrels en rabbits en +fish in dat day en time. Dat is, dem what cared for demselves, +dey had all dem things. Cose dere was some den like dere be +now dat been too lazy to work en dey hand was empty all de +time. I remember, dem poorbuckras would just go bout from +one house to another en catch somethin here, dere en yonder."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Den de people never wore none of dese kind of clothes +like de people wear dese days neither. When a person got +a dress den, dey made it demselves en dey made dey own underskirts +den, too. You see, all dese underskirts en bloomers +like de people does buy dese days, dey didn' have nothin like +dat den. Used to put 10 yard in a dress en 10 yards in a +underskirt en would tuck dem clean up to dey waist. En, child, +when dey would iron dat dress, it would stand up in de floor +just like dere been somebody in it. When I say iron, I talkin +bout de people would iron den, too. Yes, mam, when I come along, +de people been take time to iron dey garments right. Oh, dey +clothes would be just as slick as glass. Won' a wrinkle nowhe' +bout dem. Another thing, dey used to have dese dove colored +linen dusters dat dey would wear over dey dress when dey would +ride to church. Den when dey went in de church, dey would pull +dem off en put dem on again when dey started home. Dey was made +sort of like a coat suit, except dey was a little fuller en +would come clean down to de tail of de dress. You see, dey +was meant to protect de dress while dey was gwine along de road."</p> + +<p>"De world sho gwine worser dese days, honey. Oh, Lord, +de people worser. Yes, mam, dey worser, I say. Dey ain' got +de mother wit. Dey weaker en dey wiser, I say, but dey ain' +got de mother wit. Can' set down en talk to de people dese +days en dey take dat what you got to say in like dey used to.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +En de people don' take de time to teach de chillun to know +good things like dey used to en dat how-come dey have more +time to get in so much of devilment dese days. Yes, mam, de +people used to have more chillun en dey raised dem, too. +Chillun know more den grown people do dese days, I say. +People used to know how to carry demselves en take care of +demselves more den dey do now. Seems like, de people more +rattlin en brazen den what dey used to be."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source</span>: Julia Woodberry, colored, Marion, S.C.—Age, 70-80.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, November 5, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in73" id="in73"></a>JULIA WOODBERRY<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, Age ____</h3> + + + +<p>"Well, I can speak bout what I used to hear my auntie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +en my mammy en my grandmammy talk bout what happen in dey +day, but I never didn' live in slavery time. My mammy, +she been broke her leg long time fore freedom come here +en I remember she tell me often times, say, 'Julia, you +didn' lack much of comin here a slavery child.' Honey, +I mean she been in de family way right sharp fore freedom +come here.</p> + +<p>"My mammy, she was raise right down dere to de other +side de jail to de 'Cedars'. You know dere whe' all dem +cedars round dat house what bout to fall down. She belong +to de lawyer Phillips dere en he wouldn' never allow her +to get out de family. She had been a free woman fore he +had stole her off de sea beach to be his house woman. Yes, +mam, stole my mammy en uncle John, too, off de sea beach, but +uncle John went back after freedom come here. My mammy, she +been raise from just a child to be de house woman dere to de +lawyer Phillips en she never didn' know nothin bout choppin +cotton till her last baby been bout knee high.</p> + +<p>"I remember how my mammy used to tell me bout dat de +colored people won' allowed to go from one plantation to +another widout dey had a 'mit (permit) from dey Massa. Yes, +mam, all de niggers had to have dat strip somewhat bout dem +to keep from gettin a beatin. Couldn' leave dey home widout<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +showin dat 'mit from dey Massa. You see, de nigger men +would want to go to see dey wives en dey would have to get +a 'mit from dey Massa to visit dem. Cose dey wouldn' live +together cause dey wives would be here, dere en yonder. It +been like dis, sometimes de white folks would sell de wife +of one of dey niggers way from dey husband en den another +time, dey would sell de husband way from dey wife. Yes, mam, +white folks had dese guard, call patroller, all bout de country +to catch en whip dem niggers dat been prowl bout widout dat +strip from dey Massa. I remember I hear talk dey say, 'Patroller, +Patroller, let nigger pass.' Dey would say dat if de nigger had +de strip wid dem en if dey didn' have it, dey say, 'Patroller, +Patroller, cut nigger slash.'"</p> + +<p>"Child, I tell you dat been a day to speak bout. When I +come along, de women never vote, white nor colored, en it been +years since I see a colored person vote, but I remember dey been gwine to +vote in dat day en time just like dey was gwine to a show. +Oh, honey, de road would be full of dem. Dey had to vote. +Remember, way back dere, everybody would be singin en a dancin +when dey had de election:</p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +'Hancock ride de big gray horse,<br /> +Hampton ride de mule,<br /> +Hancocks got elected,<br /> +Buckras all turn fool.<br /> +Buggety, buggety, buggety etc.'" +</div></div> + +<p>"White en black was all in a row dere dancin all night long. +Ain' made no exception."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hear talk dat when freedom come here, de niggers was +just turn loose to make dey livin de best way dey could. Say +dat some of de white folks give dey niggers somethin to go on +en some of dem didn' spare dem nothin. Dey tell me old Sherman +didn' come through dis section of de country, but he sent somebody +to divide out de things like so much corn en so much meat +to de colored people. Now, I talkin bout dat what I hear de +old people say. Put everything in Ben Thompson hand to deal +out de colored people share to dem. Yes, mam, he was de one +had de chair. Talk bout Sherman give Ben Thompson de chair, +sayin what I hear de old people say. I don' know exactly how +it was, it been so long since de old people talk wid me. Dat +it, it been so long till God knows, I forgot."</p> + +<p>"Well, I used to know a heap of dem songs dat I hear my +auntie en my grandmammy sing dere home when I was comin up. +Let me see, child, dey was natural born song too.</p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +'I got somethin to tell you,<br /> +Bow-hoo, oo-hoo, oo-hoo.<br /> +I got somethin to tell you,<br /> +Bow-hoo, oo-hoo, oo-hoo.<br /> +In a bow-hoo, oo-oo-hoo.<br /> +<br /> +Way cross de ocean,<br /> +'Mongst all dem nation,<br /> +Massa Jesus promise me,<br /> +He gwine come by en by,<br /> +He gwine come by en by.<br /> +<br /> +Dere many miles round me,<br /> +De curried be so bold,<br /> +To think dat her son, Jesus,<br /> +Could write widout a pen,<br /> +Could write widout a pen.<br /> +<br /> +De very next blessin dat Mary had,<br /> +She had de blessin of two,<br /> +To think dat her son, Jesus,<br /> +Could bring de crooked to straight,<br /> +Could bring de crooked to straight.'" +</div></div> + +<p>"Dat was my auntie's grandmother Eve piece way back yonder in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +slavery time. Dat was her piece."</p> + +<p>"It just like I tellin you, dat been a day to speak bout. +I remember when dey used to spin en weave all de cloth right +dere home. Yes, mam, I wore many a wove dress to church. Dey +would get dis here indigo en all kind of old bark out de woods +en boil it in de pot wid de yarn en make de prettiest kind of +colors. Den dey would take dat colored yarn en weave all kind +of pretty streaks in de cloth. Dey would know just as good +how many yards of dat thread it would take to make so much of +cloth."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mam, I know dere been better livin long time ago +den dere be now. Know it cause I didn' never have no worryations +no time when I was comin up. My God, child, I couldn' make a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +support today if I know my neck had to be hung on de gallows. +No, mam, dis here a sin cussed world de people livin in dis day +en time."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source</span>: Julia Woodberry, colored, Marion, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, October-November, 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Code No.</b><br /> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, November 16, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in74" id="in74"></a>JULIA WOODBERRY<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, Age ____</h3> + + +<p>"No, mam, I ain' thought bout nothin no more to tell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +you. Death been in de family en seems like I just been so +worried up wid my daughter sick in de house dere wid de +straw fever. De doctor, he say it de fever en dat all we +know, but it acts like de straw fever all up en down. I +tell dem chillun dere de other night dat I would have to +go back en get my mind fixed up wid somethin to speak bout +fore you come here another time. Yes, mam, have to get my +mind together somewhe' or another."</p> + +<p>"I been born down dere in Britton's Neck, but most +my days was lived up to Mr. Jim Brown's place to Centenary. +My father, he was name Friday Woodberry en my mother, she +come from off de sea beach in slavery time, so she told me. +Say dat her old Massa stole her en her brother John, too, +from off de sea beach. When freedom come here, her brother +John went back to de sea beach, but my mother say dat she +won' in no shape to go back. She went from family to family +till after freedom was declared en her white folks wouldn' +never have her ill-treated neither en wouldn' never let +nobody else have her no time. When she was let loose from +de white people, she went to Britton's Neck wid a colored +woman. You see, she was a stranger to de country bout dere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +fore freedom come en she been know dat woman en dat how-come +she went wid her. I mean she didn' know de people bout dere +cause de white folks didn' allow dey colored people to go +bout much in slavery time. Couldn' go nowhe' widout dey had +a ticket wid dem. She stayed dere in Britton's Neck till Pa +died en den she come back up here to Marion to live, but her +white people was scattered all bout den."</p> + +<p>"No, mam, I ain' never marry cause you had to court on de +sly in dat day en time. I tell you, I come through de devil +day when I come along. I was learned to work by de old, old +slavery way en, honey, I say dat I just as soon been come +through slavery day as to come under a tight taskmassa dat +was colored. Yes, mam, if I never did a thing right, my dress +was over my head en I was whipped right dere. I was engaged +by letter, but dey kept me under dey foot so close till I +never didn' slip de hay. I remember, I was stayin dere wid +Mary Jane Rowell en she kept me cowed down so worser, I never +couldn' do nothin."</p> + +<p>"I tell you, I been a grown girl dere when I leave Mary +Jane Rowell's house en go to cookin en a washin for Miss (Mrs.) +Louise Brown. Yes, child, I love Miss Louise Brown to dis very +day cause she been just like a mother to me. Yes, mam, Miss +Brown was just as good to me as she could be. Mr. Jim Brown, +he give me a house dere on his plantation to live in just to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +do de house work to de big house, but seems like de other +colored people on de plantation would be tryin to down me +most all de time cause I was workin ahead of dem. I know +I would go dere to work many a mornin cryin, from what dem +niggers been mouthin bout me, en Miss Brown would cry right +along wid me. I tell you, Miss Brown was a tender hearted +woman, so to speak bout. I tell Miss Brown, 'Carolina say +I stole a towel off de line.' En Miss Brown say, 'Julia, +if dere a towel gone off dat line, I know whe' it gone.' +No, child, I ain' never think bout to lay no shame on dese +hands. White folks been used to leave money all bout whe' +I bresh (brush) en dust en I ain' never had no mind to touch +it no time. Yes, mam, I been through a day since I come here. +Erelong I move out Mary Jane Rowell's house, I been in white +people house. If it ain' one class, it another. De very day +dat Dr. Dibble been pronounce me to de hospital, dey come after +me to wait on a woman. Yes, mam, Julia Woodberry ain' beat de +state no time. Oh, I tell you, it de God truth, I has done +every kind of work in my life. Me en my three chillun dere +run a farm just like a man. Why, honey, you ain' know I had +three girls? Yes, mam, dem chillun been born en bred right +dere in de country to Centenary."</p> + +<p>"I hear people talkin bout dat thing call conjurin, but +I don' know what to say dat is. It somethin I don' believe in.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +Don' never take up no time wid dat cause it de devil's +work. Dat de olden talk en I don' think nothin bout dat. +Don' want nobody round me dat believes in it neither. Don' +believe in it. Don' believe in it cause dat en God spirit +don' go together. I hear talk dat been belong to de devil, +but I was so small, I couldn' realize much what to think +cause dat what you hear in dem days, you better been hear +passin. No, mam, dey knock chillun down in dat day en time +dat dey see standin up lookin in dey eyes to hear. I has +heard people say dat dey could see spirits, but I don' put +no mind to dat no time. I believe dat just a imagination +cause when God get ready to take you out dis world, you is +gone en you gone forever, I say. Don' believe in no hereafter +neither cause dey say I been born wid veil over my face +en if anybody could see spirits, I ought to could. I know I +has stayed in houses dat people say was hanted plenty times +en I got to see my first hant yet. Yes, mam, I do believe in +de Bible. If I hadn' believed in de Bible, I wouldn' been +saved. Dere obliged to be a hereafter accordin to de Bible. +Dere obliged to be a hereafter, I say. I can' read, but I +talkin what I hear de people say. Dat a infidel what don' +believe dere a hereafter."</p> + +<p>"How-come I know all dat, I was raise up wid de old +people. Come along right behind de old race en I would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +dere listenin widout no ears en seein widout no eyes. +Yes, mam, I took what I hear in, lady, en I ain' been just +now come here. I been here a time. Dat de reason I done +wid de world. God knows I is done. I is done. I recollects, +way back yonder, Pa would sing:</p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +'Dey ain' had no eyes for to see,<br /> +Dey ain' had no teeth for to eat,<br /> +En dey had to let de corncake go,<br /> +Gwine whe' all de good niggers go.'" +</div></div> + +<p>"Dat was my father's piece dat he used to sing in slavery +time. Dat right cause I can remember back more so den I +can forward."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source</span>: Julia Woodberry, colored, age—about 70 to 75., +Marion, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 1937.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885 -1-</b><br /> +<b>District #4</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>June 1, 1937</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>E. Fronde Kennedy</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in75" id="in75"></a>FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES</h3> + + + +<p>While looking for an ex-slave in a certain part<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +of Spartanburg this morning, I was directed across the street to +"an old man who lives there". I knocked at the door but received +no answer. Then I noticed an old man walking around by the side +of the house. He was tall and straight, standing about 6 feet +2 inches. He said that his name was George Wood and that he was +78 years of age.</p> + +<p>He stated that he was born during slavery, and +lived on Peter Sepah's place in York County. Peter Sepah's farm, +where he was born, was near the North Carolina line; it consisted +of approximately 200 acres. His parents were named Dan and Sarah +Wood. His mother was given to old man Sepah by his father as a +wedding present, and his grandfather had been given to an older +Sepah by his parent as a wedding present. He said it was the +custom in slavery times that a slave be given to the son or +daughter by the white people when they got married.</p> + +<p>He was too young to work, but about the time the +war was over, he was allowed to drive the horses that pulled the +thrasher of wheat. His master used to walk around and around while +the wheat was being thrashed, and see that everybody was doing +their work all right. His father lived on another plantation. +There was only one family of slaves on the whole plantation. +He, his mother, and five children lived in a one-room log cabin +about 30 or 40 feet from the "big house". Their beds consisted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +of straw mattresses. They had plenty to eat, having the same +food that the white folks did. They ate ash cakes mostly for +bread, but once a week they had biscuits to eat. When the wheat +was thrashed, they had biscuits mostly for breakfast; but as the +wheat got scarcer they did not have much wheat to eat. He said that +Buffalo Creek flowed pretty close to their place and that the creek +emptied into Broad River. Shelby, N.C., their market, was about +ten miles distant. He thinks that it was easier then than now +to get something to eat.</p> + +<p>The log cabin where he and his mother lived was +kept comfortably warm in the winter time. All they had to do, +was to go to the wood-pile and get all the wood they needed for +the fire. His mother worked on the farm, washed clothes and +helped with the cooking at his master's house. The slaves stopped +work every Saturday afternoon about three o'clock; then his mistress +would have his mother to patch their clothes, as she did not like +to see their clothes needing patching. "We used to have lots of +fun," he said, "more than the children do now. As children, we +used to play marbles around the house; but no other special game."</p> + +<p>Uncle George said that the patrollers saw that the +colored people were in their houses at 8 o'clock every night. +"They would come to the house and look in; of course, if a man +had a pass to another plantation or some place, that was all right; +or if he had some business somewhere. But everybody had to be in +the house by 8 o'clock." He also stated that if a slave strayed +off the plantation and didn't have a pass, if he could out-run +the "pateroller" and get back upon his own place, then he was all +right. The only slave he ever saw get a whipping, was one who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +had stayed out after hours; then a switch was used on him by a +"pateroller". He said he never saw any slaves in chains or treated +badly, for his master was a good man, and so was his "Missus". +One day his mother went to a church that was not her own church. +On coming back, she saw a "pateroller" coming behind her. She +began to run, and he did too; but as he caught up with her, she +stepped over a fence on her master's place and dared the "pateroller" +to do anything to her. He didn't do a thing and would not get +over the fence where she was, as he would have been on somebody's +place besides his own.</p> + +<p>He said that when the corn-shucking time came, +both whites and blacks would gather at a certain plantation. +Everybody shucked corn, and they all had a good time. When the +last ear of corn was shucked, the owner of the plantation would +begin to run from the place and all would run after him. When +they caught him, he was placed on the shoulders of two men and +carried around and around the house, all singing and laughing +and having a good time. Then they would carry the man into his +house, pull off his hat and throw it into the fire; place him in +a chair; comb his head; cross his knees for him and leave him +alone. They would not let him raise a second crop under his old +hat—he had to have a new hat for a new crop. Then they would +all, colored and white, gather to eat. The owner of the farm +would furnish plenty to eat; sometimes he would have some whiskey +to drink, but not often, "as that was a dangerous thing to have".</p> + +<p>He said that if a man who was chewing or smoking +met a woman, he would throw his tobacco away before talking with +the woman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was plenty of fruit in those days, so brandy +was made and put into barrels in the smoke-house; and the same way +they had plenty of corn, and would put up a still and put the whiskey +they made into barrels.</p> + +<p>People in those days, he said, had "manners". The +white and colored folks would have their separate sections in the +church where they sat. "I've seen a white man make another white +man get up in church and give his place to a colored man when the +church was crowded." He said his father was baptized by Rev. +Dixon, father of Tom Dixon, who was a Baptist preacher. His +mother was sprinkled by a Methodist white preacher, but he was +baptized by a colored preacher.</p> + +<p>Asked about marriages among the slaves, he said +the ceremony was performed by some "jack-legged" colored preacher +who pronounced a few words and said they were man and wife.</p> + +<p>He said the colored people did not know much +about Jeff Davis or Abraham Lincoln except what they heard +about them. All that he remembered was a song that his Missus +used to sing:</p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +"Jeff Davis rides a big gray horse,<br /> +Lincoln rides a mule;<br /> +Jeff Davis is a fine old man,<br /> +And Lincoln is a fool." +</div></div> + +<p>Another song was:</p> + +<div class="block"><div class="poem"> +"I'll lay $10 down and number them one by one,<br /> +As sure as we do fight 'em,<br /> +The Yankees will run." +</div></div> + +<p>One day his "Missus" came to their house and +told his mother they were free and could go anywhere they wanted to,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +but she hoped they would stay on that year and help them make a +crop. He said his mother just folded her hands and put her head +down and "studied". She decided to stay on that year. The next +year, they moved to another plantation, where they stayed for +twenty years.</p> + +<p>"Before they were free, every colored man took +the name of his master, but afterwards, I took my father's name."</p> + +<p>He said that the Yankee soldiers did not come to +their place, but they were ready for them if they had come. The +silver was buried out in the lot, and stable manure was piled and +thrown all about the spot. The two good horses were taken off and +hidden, but the old horse his master owned was left. He said that +sometimes a Confederate soldier would come by riding an old horse, +and would want to trade horses with his master. Sometimes his +master would trade, for he thought his horse would be taken anyway. +His master would never get anything "to boot", as the soldier +didn't have the "to boot" when the trade was made. So the soldier +would ride off the horse, leaving the poor, broken-down one behind. +Sometimes after the war, the Confederate soldiers would come by +the house, sick, wounded and almost starved; but his mistress +would fix something to eat for them; then they would go on.</p> + +<p>"'Possum and 'taters were plentiful then. When +a slave wanted to go hunting, he could go; but we had to work +then—nobody works now." He said that on rainy days, his mother +did not have to go to the field, but stayed at home and sewed or +carded. He said that after freedom came to the slaves, he worked +on a farm for $5.00 a month. After he had been on the farm for +many years, he heard that Spartanburg was on a boom, so he came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +here and worked at railroading for many more years. He has quit +work now; but still does a little gardening for some white folks. +He said that the white people in the South understand the colored +people.</p> + +<p>When asked if he had ever seen a ghost, he replied +that he had never seen one and had never seen a person who +had. "I don't believe in those things anyhow," he said. He also +stated he had never heard of anybody being "conjured" either. +He said that all the niggers in his section were scared of the +niggers from way down in South Carolina, for their reputation +as conjurers was against them, so they always fought shy of +them and didn't have anything to do with the "niggers from way +down in South Carolina".</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: George Woods, 337 N. View St., Spartanburg, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in76" id="in76"></a>ALECK WOODWARD,<br /><br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE—83 YEARS.</span></h3> + + +<p>"You knows de Simonton place, Mr. Wood? Well, dats just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +where I was born back yonder befo' de war, a slave of old Marster +Johnnie Simonton. Five miles sorter south sunset side of Woodward +Station where you was born, ain't it so? My pappy was Ike Woodward, +but him just call 'Ike' time of slavery, and my mammy was name Dinah. +My brother Charlie up north, if he ain't dead, Ike lives in Asheville, +North Carolina. Two sisters: Ollie, her marry an Aiken, last counts, +and she and her family in Charlotte, North Carolina; sister Mattie marry +a Wilson nigger, but I don't know where they is.</p> + +<p>"Us lived in a four-room log house, 'bout sixteen all told. +Dere was pappy and mammy (now you count them) gran'pappy, Henry Davis, +Gran'mammy Kisana, Aunt Anna, and her seven chillun, and me, and my two +brothers and two sisters. How many make dat? Seventeen? Well, dat's de +number piled in dere at night in de beds and on de floors. They was +scandlous beds; my God, just think of my grands, old as I is now, tryin' +to sleep on them hard beds and other folks piled 'scriminately all over +de log floors! My Gran'pappy Henry was de carpenter, and old marster tell +him 'if you make your beds hard, Henry, 'member you folks got to sleep +on them.'</p> + +<p>"I was just a little black feller, running 'round most of de +time in my shirt tail, but I recollect pickin' cotton, and piddling 'round +de woodpile, fetchin' in wood for white house and chips and kindling to +fresh up de fires. Us had plenty to eat, 'cause us killed thirty-five hogs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +at a time, and de sausages and lights us did was a sight. Then de lard +us made, and de cracklin' bread, why, I hungers for de sight of them +things right now. Us niggers didn't get white flour bread, but de cracklin' +bread was called on our place, 'de sweet savor of life.'</p> + +<p>"Money? Us had eyes to see and ears to hear, but us just hear +'bout it, never even seen money.</p> + +<p>"My marster had a fish pond, signs of it dere yet.</p> + +<p>"My white folks attended church at Concord Presbyterian Church. +Us went dere too, and us set up in de gallery. Yes, they asked us. De +preacher asked us to jine in some of de hymns, especially 'De Dyin' Thief' +and 'De Fountain Filled Wid Blood,' and dat one 'bout 'Mazing Grace How +Sweet de Sound Dat Save a Wretch Like us.'</p> + +<p>"Our young Marster Charlie went off to de war, got killed at +Second Bull Run. Marster Watt went and got a leg shot off somewheres. +Marster Jim went and got killed, Johnnie too, Marster Robert was not +old enough to carry a gun.</p> + +<p>"De young mistresses was Mary and Martha. Marster John, old +mistress and all of them mighty good to us, especially when Christmas +come and then at times of sickness. They send for de doctor and set up +wid you, such tendin' to make you love them. When de Yanks come us all +plead for Marster John and family, and de house not to be burnt. De +house big, had ten rooms, big plantation, run fifteen plows.</p> + +<p>"You ask 'bout was dere any poor white folks 'round? Not many, +but I 'members old Miss Sallie Carlisle weaved and teached de slaves how +it was done. Marster give her a house to live in, and a garden spot on de +place, good woman. She show me how to spin and make ball thread, little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +as I was. Marster John had over fifty slaves, and they worked hard, sun +up to sun down. It's a wonder but I never got a whippin'.</p> + +<p>"Did I ever see a ghost? Mr. Wood, I seen sumpin' once mighty +strange, I was gwine to see a gal Nannie, on de widow Mobley place, and +had to pass 'tween two graveyards, de white and de colored. She was de +daughter of Rev. Richard Cook. When I was just 'bout de end of de white +graveyard, I saw two spirits dressed in white. I run all de way to de +gal's house and sob when I got dere. I laid my head in her lap and told +her 'bout de spirits and how they scared me. I still weepin' wid fear, +and she console me, rub my forehead and soothed me. When I got quiet, I +asked her some day to be my wife, and dat's de gal dat come to be years +after, my wife. Us walk to church hand and hand ever afterwards, and one +day Preacher Morris, white man, made us husband and wife. I 'members de +song de white folks sung dat day. 'Hark from de tomb a doleful sound'. +Don't you think dat a wrong song to sing on a weddin' day? 'Joy to de +World,' was in our heart and dat tune would have been more 'propriate, +seems to me.</p> + +<p>"Marster John give de slaves every other Saturday after dinner +in busy seasons, and every Saturday evening all other weeks. Us had two +doctors, Doctor Brice at first, and when he git old, us had Doctor Lurkin.</p> + +<p>"Was glad when marster called us up and told us we was free. +De Yankees made a camp on de Doctor Brice place, and foraged de country +all 'round. They made me run after chickens and I had to give up my +onliest blue hen dat I had. My pappy was took off by them to Raleigh, +wid dat I 'member, was de saddest day of slavery time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nannie and me, under de providence of de Lord Jehovah, has had +three chillun to live, and they have chillun too. I owns my own home and +land enough to live on, though it is hard to make both ends meet some +years.</p> + +<p>"How I got my name, you ask dat? Well, after freedom us niggers +had to come to Winnsboro and register. Us talk 'bout it by de fireside +what us would lak. When us come, Marster Henry Gaillard had a big crowd +of Gaillard niggers 'bout him beggin' for names. One of them say, 'Marster +Henry, I don't want no little name, I wants big soundin' name.' Marster +Henry write on de paper, then he read: 'Your name is Mendozah J. Fernandez, +hope dats big enough for you.' De little nigger dwarf seem powerful pleased +and stepped to de register. De rest of us spoke to Captain Gaillard and he +said no better name than Woodward, so us took dat name. Its been a kind of +a 'tection to us at times, and none of our immediate family has ever +dragged it in a jail or chaingang, Bless God! and I hope us never will."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #1655</b><br /> +<b>W.W. Dixon</b><br /> +<b>Winnsboro, S.C.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in77" id="in77"></a>MARY WOODWARD<br /><br /> +<span class="under">EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD.</span></h3> + + +<p>"I knows you since you 'bout dis high (indicating). When was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +it? Where I see you? I see you at your auntie's house. Dat was your +auntie, Miss Roxie Mobley, other side of Blackstock. You was in a little +dress dat day, look lak a gal. Oh! Lordy, dat been a long time! What us +has come thru since dat day and de days befo' dat, beyond freedom.</p> + +<p>"I was born a slave of old Marster Adam Berber, near de Catawba +River side de county, in 1854. I's a mighty small gal but I 'members when +pappy got his leg broke at de gin-house dat day, in de Christmas week. +Seem lak dat was de best Christmas I ever had. White folks comin' and a +gwine, loadin' de bed down wid presents for pappy and mammy and me.</p> + +<p>"What my pappy name? He was name Joe and mammy go by Millie. +Both b'long to Marster Adam and Miss Nellie. Dat was her name and a lovely +mistress she be in dat part of de country. Her was sure pretty, walk +pretty, and act pretty. 'Bout all I had to do in slavery time was to +comb her hair, lace her corset, pull de hem over her hoop and say, 'You +is served, mistress!' Her lak them little words at de last.</p> + +<p>"They have no chillun and dat was a grief to her more than to +Marster Adam. Him comfort her many times 'bout it and 'low it was his +fault. Then they 'spute 'bout it. Dats all de rumpus ever was 'twixt +them. I 'spects if they had had chillun they wouldn't have been so good +to me. What you reckon? They give me dolls and laugh at de way I name +them, talk to them and dress them up.</p> + +<p>"When de Yankees come, I was a settin' in de swing in de front +yard. They ride right up and say: 'Where your mistress?' I say: 'I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +don't know.' They say: 'You is lyin'. Give her a few lashes and us'll +find out.' Another say: 'No, us come to free niggers, not to whip them.' +Then they ask me for to tell them where de best things was hid. I say: +'I don't know sir.' Then they ransack de house, bust open de smoke house, +take de meat, hams, shoulders, 'lasses barrel, sugar, and meal, put them +in a four-horse wagon, set de house, gin-house and barn afire and go on +toward Rocky Mount. Our neighbors then, was Marster Aaron Powell and +Sikes Gladden, on Dutchman Creek.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I marry Alf Woodward. Us had chillun. How many? +Let me see; Eli still alive, don't know where he is though. Rosa dead; +Susannah live now on Miss Sara Lord's place, up dere near Metford. De rest +of de chillun went off to Arkansas 'bout 1885, and us never heard from them.</p> + +<p>"I forgot to tell you dat when de Yankees come and find me a +settin' in dat swing, I had on a string of beads dat Miss Nellie give to me. +Them rascals took my beads off my neck, and what you reckon they did wid +them? Well, if you doesn't know, I does. De scamps, dat is one of them did, +took my lovely beads and put them 'round his horse's neck and ride off wid +them, leavin' me sobbin' my life out in dat swing. They say you must love +your enemies and pray for them dat spitefully use you but I never have pray +for dat Yankee scamp to dis day. Although I's Scotch Irish African 'Sociate +Reform Presbyterian, de spirit have never moved me to pray for de horse and +rider dat went off wid my beads dat my mistress give me. When I tell Marster +William Woodward, my husband's old marster, 'bout it, him say: 'De low dirty +skunk, de Lord'll take vengeance on him.' Marster William give Alf a half a +dollar and tell him to git me another string of beads, though Alf never done +so.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Alf was Marster William's coachman and him and Wade Pichett, +dat was a slave of Marster William, took fifteen mules, when de Yankees +come, and carried them in de Wateree swamps and stayed dere and saved +them. Every time Alf or Wade see Marster William, as de years comed and +goed, they fetched up de subject of them mules and git sumpin' from him. +One day he laugh and say: 'Look here Alf, I done 'bout pay for sixteen +mules and dere was but fifteen in de drove.' Alf laugh but he always +got way wid it when he see any of de Woodward white folks. Well I's glad +to go now, though I has 'joyed bein' wid you. De Lord bless you and keep +you."</p> + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project, 1885-(1)</b><br /> +<b>Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis</b><br /> +<b>Place, Marion, S.C.</b><br /> +<b>Date, September 15, 1937</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in78" id="in78"></a>PAULINE WORTH<br /><br /> +Ex-Slave, 79 Years</h3> + + +<p>"Yes'um, I know I been here in slavery time, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +wasn' large enough to do nothin in dat day en time. I +reach 79 de first day of November. To be certain dat how +old I is, Miss Betty Evans give me my direct age here de +other day. She know who I am cause I was raise near bout +in de same yard dat she was raise in. Mr. Telathy Henry +family was my white folks. Yes'um, I was raise right here +in dis town. Ain' never been nowhere else but Marion."</p> + +<p>"I was small den, but I remembers my old Missus. I +sho remembers her all right. My old boss, he died. I can' +remember nothin much bout dem times only I recollects when +my old Missus used to get after me en whip me, I would run +under de house. Didn' want to sweep de yard en dat how-come +she get after me wid a switch. I was small den en she was +tryin to learn me."</p> + +<p>"No, child, I didn' live on no plantation. Didn' have +no quarter for de slaves dere. My white folks live in town +en dey just have my mother en her chillun en another old man. +He stayed in de kitchen en would work de garden en go off on +errands for de Missus. My mother en we chillun stayed in a +little small one room house in de yard en he stayed in de +kitchen. I wasn' large enough to do nothin much den only as +like I tell you, my old Missus tried to learn me to sweep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +de yard."</p> + +<p>"I was small den, child, but I got along all right +cause we ate in de white folks kitchen. Oh, no'um, dey +cook in de chimney long bout de time I come up. No'um, +didn' see no stoves nowhe' when I come up. I remembers +we had greens like collards en bread en potatoes to eat +sometimes, but say remember all what we had to eat, I +couldn' never think bout to do dat. I just knows dat I +remembers old Missus provide good livin for us all de time. +Wouldn' let nobody suffer for nothin be dat she know bout +it. Old Missus used to give us every speck de clothes we +had to wear too dat was made out dis here homemade homespun +cloth. You see my mother was de cook dere. Old Massa used +to keep dry goods store en de first I know bout it, she get +de cloth out de store to make us clothes. Den after de old +head died, old Missus commence to buy cloth from somebody in +de country cause people weave dey cloth right dere on dey own +plantation in dat day en time. Had dese here loom en spinning +wheel. I remembers old Missus would take out big bolt of cloth +en cut out us garments wid her own hands. Den she would call +us dere en make us try dem on en mine wouldn' never be nothin +troublesome nowhe' bout it. I remembers I used to hear my +Missus, when she be readin de paper speak bout Abraham Lincoln +en Jefferson Davis, but I was small den en never paid no much +attention to it. Only cared bout my new homespun dress wid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +de pockets shinin right in de front part. My Lord, child, +I been de proudest like of dem pockets."</p> + +<p>"I hear de older people say de Yankees come en say de +Yankees was here, but I was small den. Dey didn' do nothin +bout dere dat I know of. I was small en I didn' know. Didn' +hear de older peoples say nothin bout it neither."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we went to de white peoples service to dat big +Methodist church right up dere in dis town what was tore +down long time ago. Walked dere to dat church every Sunday +en set up in de gallery. Dat whe' all de slaves had place +to sit. De only thing I could remember bout gwine to church +dere was what I hear dem say. Dey say, 'I believe in God the +Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, etc.' Dat all I +remembers bout gwine to church dere. Everything I remembers. +Don' know as I could tell you dat, but I hear my mother repeat +it so much when she come home en be teachin us our prayer. +Den Missus teach us de same thing till we get large enough to +learn de Lord's Prayer. No'mam, white folks didn' teach us +no learnin in dat day en time. Didn' hear bout no books only +dese almanacs. When de white folks throw dem out, dey allow +us to pick dem up to play wid. Dat all de books we know bout."</p> + +<p>"Lord, child, dat was somethin. Dat was sho a time when +dat shake come here. I remembers de ground be shakin en all +de people was hollerin. Yes'um, I was scared. Scared of dat +noise it was makin cause I didn' know but dat it might been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +gwine destroy me. I was hollerin en everybody round in +de neighborhood was hollerin. Didn' nobody know what to +think it was. Well, I tell you I thought it must a been +de Jedgment comin. Thought it must a been somethin like +dat."</p> + +<p>"I don' know nothin bout dat. It just like dis, I +heard people speak bout conjurin, but nobody never has +talked to me nothin concernin no conjurin. My mother +wouldn' allow nobody to talk dat kind of speech to us. +No, I ain' never seen none of dem things people say is +ghost. No, ain' seen none dat I remembers. My husband +died en I was right in de room wid him en I ain' see a +thing. Never thought bout nothin like dat. Thought +when dey gone, dey was gone. When I was able to work, +I didn' have no time to bother wid dem things. Didn' +have no time to take up wid nothin like dat. I de one +dat used to cook dere to Miss Eloise Bethea's mamma. Dis +here de one dey call Pauline."</p> + +<p>"I tell you my old Missus was good to us, child, +good to us all de time. Come bout en doctor us herself +when we get sick. Wouldn' trust nobody else to give us +no medicine. I remember she give us castor oil en little +salts for some ailments. Didn' give us nothin more den +dat only a little sage or catnip sometimes. Dat what was +good for colds."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don' know, child. I can' tell which de worser +days den or dese times. I know one thing, dey dances +now more den dey used to. I don' go bout much, but I +can tell you what I hear talk bout. I don' know as +de people any worser dese days, but I hear talk bout +more dances. Dat bout all. Coase de peoples used to +dance bout, but dey didn' have dese dance halls like +dey have now. Didn' have none of dem kind of rousin +places den. De peoples didn' have chance to dance in +dat day en time only as dey have a quiltin en cornshuckin +on a night. Den dey just dance bout in old Massa yard +en bout de kitchen. Oh, dey have dem quiltin at night +en would play en go on in de kitchen. Turn plate en +different little things like dat. I don' know how dey +do it, but I remembers I hear dem talkin somethin bout +turnin plate. Wasn' big enough to explain nothin bout +what dey meant. I just knows dey would do dat en try to +make some kind of motion like."</p> + +<p>"Honey, didn' never hear my parents tell bout no +stories. My mother wasn' de kind to bother wid no stories +like dat. She tried to always be a Christian en she never +would allow us to tarnish us souls wid nothin like dat. +She raise us in de way she want us to turn out to be. All +dese people bout here livin too fast to pay attention to +raisin dey chillun dese days. Just livin too fast to do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +anything dat be lastin like. Dat how-come dere be so +much destructiveness bout dese days."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +<span class="under">Source</span>: Pauline Worth, age 79, ex-slave, Manning St., Marion, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Personal interview, Sept., 1937 by Annie Ruth Davis.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project #-1655</b><br /> +<b>Phoebe Faucette</b><br /> +<b>Hampton County</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Folklore</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in79" id="in79"></a>DAPHNEY WRIGHT<br /><br /> +106 Year Old Ex-Slave</h3> + + +<p>Just around the bend from the old mill pond on the way to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +Davis Swimming Pool lives a very old negro woman. Her name +is Daphney Wright, though that name has never been heard by +those who affectionately know her as "Aunt Affie". She says +she is 106 years old. She comes to the door without a cane +and greets her guests with accustomed curtsey. She is neatly +dressed and still wears a fresh white cap as she did when she +worked for the white folks. Save for her wearing glasses and +walking slowly, there are no evidences of illness or infirmities. +She has a sturdy frame, and a kindly face shows through +the wrinkles.</p> + +<p>"I been livin' in Beaufort when de war fust (first) break +out", she begins. "Mr. Robert Cally was my marsa. Dat wuz +in October. De Southern soldiers come through Bluffton on a +Wednesday and tell de white folks must get out de way, de +Yankees right behind 'em! De summer place been at Bluffton. +De plantation wuz ten miles away. After we refugee from +Bluffton, we spent de fust night at Jonesville. From dere +we went to Hardeeville. We got here on Saturday evening. +You know we had to ride by horses—in wagons an' buggies. +Dere weren't no railroads or cars den. Dat why it take so +long.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lawrence McKenzie wuz my Missus' child. We stayed +wid him awhile, 'til he find us a place. Got us a little +house. We stayed four years dere, 'til de war wuz over.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +Dey sent de young ladies on—on farther up de country, to a +safer place. Dey went to Society Hill. My old Missus stay. +Sae wuz a old lady. When de Yankees come she died. I wuz +right dere wid her when she died. She had been sickly. +After de war dey all went back to de old place. I had +married up here, so when dey went back I stay on here.</p> + +<p>"I been right here when de Yankees come through. I been +in my house asittin' before de fire, jes' like I is now.</p> + +<p>"One of 'em come up an' say, 'You know who I is?'</p> + +<p>"I say, 'No.'</p> + +<p>"He say, 'Well, I is come to set you free. You kin stay +wid your old owners if you wants to, but dey'll pay you wages.'</p> + +<p>"But dey sure did plenty of mischief while dey wuz here. +Didn't burn all de houses. Pick out de big handsome house to +burn. Burn down Mr. Bill Lawton' house. Mr. Asbury Lawton +had a fine house. Dey burn dat. (He Marse Tom Lawton' +brother.) Burn Mr. Maner' house. Some had put a poor white +woman in de house to keep de place; but it didn't make no +difference.</p> + +<p>"De soldiers say, 'Dis rich house don't belong to you. We +goin' to burn dis house!'</p> + +<p>"Dey'd go through de house an' take everything'. Take anythin' +they could find. Take from de white, an' take from de +colored, too. Take everything out de house! Dey take from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +my house. Take somethin' to eat. But I didn't have anythin' +much in my house. Had a little pork an' a week's supply of +rations.</p> + +<p>"De white folks would bury de silver. But dey couldn't +always find it again. One give her silver to de colored +butler to bury but he wuz kill, an' nobody else know where +he bury it. It wuz after de war, an' he wuz walkin' down de +road, an' Wheeler's Brigade kill him.</p> + +<p>"Been years an' years 'fore everythin' could come together +again. You know after de war de Confederate money been +confiscate. You could be walkin' 'long de road anytime an' +pick up a ten dollar bill or a five dollar bill, but it +wuzn't no good to you. After de greenback come money +flourish again.</p> + +<p>"De plantation wuz down on de river. I live dere 'cept +for de four years we refugee. Dat been a beautiful place—dere +on de water! When de stars would come out dere over de +water it wuz a beautiful sight! Sometimes some of us girls +would get in a little 'paddle' an' paddle out into de river. +We'd be scared to go too far out, but we'd paddle around. +Sometimes my father would go out in de night an' catch de +fish with a seine. He'd come back with a bushel of fish +'most anytime. Dey were nice big mullets! He'd divide 'em +'round 'mongst de colored folks. An' he'd take some up to +de white folks for dere breakfast. My white folks been good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +white people. I never know no cruel. Dey treat me jes like +one of dem. Dey say dey took me when I wuz five years old. +An' I stay wid dem 'til freedom. I am 106 years old now.</p> + +<p>"Dem people on de water don't eat much meat. Twenty-five +cent of bacon will last dem a week. Dey cut de meat into +little pieces, an' fry dem into cracklings, den put dat into +de fish stew. It surely makes de stew good. When dey kill +a hog dey take it to town an' sell it, den use de money for +whatever dey want. Dey don't have to cure de pork an' keep +it to eat. Dey jes' eat fish. Dey have de mullets, an' de +oysters, an' de crabs, an' dese little clams. Dey have +oyster-stew. Dey have roast oysters, den de raw oysters. +An' dey have dey fried oysters! Dat sure is good. Dey fish +from de boat, dey fish from de log, an' dey fish 'long de +edge of de water wid a net. When de tide go down you kin +walk along an' jes pick up de crab. You could get a bucket +full in no time. We'd like to go up an' down an' pick up de +pretty shells. I got one here on de mantel now. It ain't +sech a big one, but it's a pretty little shell.</p> + +<p>"I is always glad to talk 'bout de old times an' de old +people. We is livin' in peace now, but still it's hard +times. We ought to be thankful though our country ain't in +war."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Daphney Wright, Scotia, S.C.</p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>Folk Lore</b><br /> +<b>District No. 4.</b><br /> +<b>May 28, 1937.</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>J.J. Murray.</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in80" id="in80"></a>STORIES OF EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>Seated on the front steps of his house, holding a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +walking cane and talking to another old colored man from Georgia, +who was visiting his children living there, the writer +found "Uncle" Bill Young. He readily replied that he had lived +in slavery days, that he was 83 years old, and he said that he +and Sam were talking about old times.</p> + +<p>He was owned by Dave Jeter at Santuc, S.C.; though +he was just a boy at the time his mother was a slave. He used +to mind his "Missus" more than anybody else, as he stayed +around the house more than anywhere else. His job, with the +other boys, both white and black, was to round up the milk +cows late every afternoon. The milk cows had to be brought +up, milked and put up for the night; but the other cows and +calves used to stay in the woods all night long. Some times +they would be a mile away from the house, but the boys would +not mind getting them home, for they played so much together +as they slowly drove the cows in.</p> + +<p>When asked if he got plenty to eat in slavery days, +he replied that he had plenty, "a heap more than I get today +to eat". As a slave, he said he ate every day that the white +folks ate, that he was always treated kindly, and his missus +would not let anybody whip him; though he had seen other +slaves tied and whipped with a bull-whip. He said he had seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +the blood come from some of the slaves as they were whipped +across the bare back. He said he had seen the men slaves stand +perfectly naked and take a beating. He also said that he never +had a whipping and that his "Missus" wouldn't let his own +mother whip him. She would say, "Don't tech that boy, as he +is my Nigger." She told him one day that he was free, but he +stayed right on there with her and worked for wages. He got +$6.00 a month, all his rations, and a place to stay.</p> + +<p>"Uncle" Bill said there was some humor at times when +a slave was to be whipped. His hands and feet tied together, +the slave would be laid across a rail fence, feet dangling on +one side and head on the other side; then the master would +give the slave a push or shove and he would fall heavily on +the ground on his head. Not being able to use his feet or his +hands, the slave's efforts to catch himself before he hit the +ground was something funny. "That was funny to us Niggers +looking at it, but not funny to the Nigger tied up so."</p> + +<p>He said some Yankee soldiers came by the house at +times, but they never bothered anybody on the place. "Of-course +they would take something to eat, but they never +bothered anybody."</p> + +<p>After working for Dave Jeter for many years, he +moved up to Jonesville, where he married. He lived in or +near Jonesville for about thirty years, then he moved with +his son, who was a barber, to Spartanburg, and has been here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +thirteen years.</p> + +<p>"I never knew anything about rent 'til I got here. +I always had a house to live in, raised my own feed and got +my wood off the place. So when I got to Spartanburg I learned +what rent was. I just quit work two years ago when I had high +blood pressure; and now I ain't able to work. Do you see that +Nigger across the street, going to work somebody's garden? +Well, if I didn't have high blood pressure, I'd be just as +good to work as him."</p> + +<p>"Yes sir, with my peck of meal, my three pounds of +meat each week and my $6.00 a month wages, I had more to eat +than I gets now."</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +SOURCE: "Uncle" Bill Young. 202 Young Street, Spartanburg, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg Office, Dist. 4.</span></p> + + + + + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="nanospace"> </div> +<div class="captionl"> +<b>Project 1885-1</b><br /> +<b>Folklore</b><br /> +<b>Spartanburg, Dist. 4</b><br /> +<b>Feb. 4, 1938</b></div> +<div class="captionr"> +<b>Edited by:</b><br /> +<b>Elmer Turnage</b></div> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<h3 class="chapter2"><a name="in81" id="in81"></a>STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES</h3> + + +<p>"March 15, 1862 is de date I allus takes when folks axes how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +old is you. Dat's de best, to follow one date, den no argument don't +follow.</p> + +<p>"Some see'd it powerful hard in slavery, others never see'd +it so bad. Dat 'pends on you a lot, den it 'pends on dem dat you +stays wid. It still like dat everywhar dat I is been, but I ain't +been no further dan Spartanburg gwine north, and to Lyles's Ford +gwine south.</p> + +<p>"From a wee bitty baby dey teach me to serve. Befo' you serves +God you is got to know how to serve man. De Bible speaks of us as +servants of de Lawd. Niggers can serve him better dan white folks, +kaise dat is all dey does if dey stays whar dey belongs. Young folks +and chillun being raised up real biggity like dey is now, dey can't +serve nothing, kaise if you can't serve your earthly father, how is +you gwine to serve your Heavenly Father?</p> + +<p>"De big plantation and house whar Mr. Jimmie Jeter's sons stay +is whar I first see'd earthly light. Dat place still look fine, and it +look fine den, too. When I was 8 years old I started out in de field, +afo' dat I did jes' what all little nigger boys did, nothing but eat +and sleep and play and have a big time wid de little white boys. Lots +of my playmates, both white and black, done gone on now. Some done +gone to de bad place and some done gone to Heaven, jes' ain't no use +talking, dat's sho nuff de truth.</p> + +<p>"War was raging all 'round Charleston and Columbia when I +come in dis world so dey says, Yankees camped in half mile of Santuc.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +I is heard dat everybody was scared. Has even heard dat I cried when +dem Yankees come, but all I knows is jes' what I heard. Folks hears +lots and dey tells it, and dat's jes' what I is doing now—jes' +telling what dey told me when I got big. If folks didn't never tell +nothing no worse, it wouldn't make no difference, but often dey takes +devilish notions and tells dat what injures, if anybody believes dem.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Phyllis Jeter 'low when dem Yankees got to Santuc, she +was a weaving jes' as hard as she could for her white folks. She say +dat she started to run, but dem Yankees come in de house and throw'd +away her yarn and took her and tied her to a tree. When she hollered, +dey whipped her. She say dat dey was drunk, but dey never burn't up +nothing in de house. Dey went on singing, and she got me to playing +and got up de yarn from de dirt in de yard and cleaned it. De Yankees +never bothered us no mo', and dey never stayed in Santuc long.</p> + +<p>"Once when I was a big boy I got drunk and pa whipped me so +hard I never got drunk no mo' till I was married, and den I jumped on +my old lady for fun and she hit me wid a bed slat. Dat knocked me +sober and I 'cided de best thing for me to do was let liquor go to +de devil. When I was young I allus walked to Union. Dat ain't but ten +miles down de railroad. Den I used to walk all over Santuc and down +to Herbert in Fish Dam. Now I is drapped most all my walking. De +chilluns travels fast in automobiles, but I jes' as lieve walk to +Union as to ride in dem things. Wrecks kills you off so quick dat you +does not have time to repent.</p> + +<p>"Walking never has hurt nobody, and I buys leather and tacks +it on my own shoes, and in dat way it don't cost me nothing much. +Folks goes so fast in dem automobiles, and half de time dey ain't in +no hurry kaise dey ain't gwine to nothing no way. I gits on my shoe +in de winter and I walks. When I wants to drap in for a chaw at some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +friend's house, I does. I sets dar till I gits rested and warm and I +goes on. If dey eats, I does too, and when I gits to Union my chillun +is done out and gone. Jes' de same, I reaches home at night befo' dem.</p> + +<p>"Dey has tales to tell about gitting out of gas, and when I +axes whar dey been, dey jes' as apt to say Spartanburg as any whars. +As long as dey has a quarter dey is allus gwine to ride and come home +broke. If you fools wid automobiles, you is gwine to spend lots of +time in jail. I ain't never been in jail and I thinks it is a disgrace. +My chillun says dat I is 'old timey' and don't know nothing 'bout +living. Jes' de same, I likes slow moving, and takes mine out in +walking and gits home at dark or soon atter.</p> + +<p>"Dese fast ways don't bother me. Dey makes sassy chilluns. +Sassy chilluns dat can't serve deir pa need not think dat dey can +ride to de Promise Land in narry automobile dat dey is ever seed. +Gwine round in fast circles and never gitting nowhars seems to satisfy +dem, so I don't know what is gwine to become of dem."</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"> +Source: Bob Young (75) Jonesville, S.C.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 11/10/37</span> +</p> + +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="microspace"> </div> +<div class="border"> +<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> +<br /> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Probate records of Fairfield County. See Roll 110 of the Judge of Probate +for Fairfield County.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Has lived a long time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Meaning her age should be in the nineties.</p></div> +</div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> +<br /> +A number of punctuation errors have been corrected. Other typographical errors are as follows: +<br /> +<br /> +Page 1: "Hariett" changed to "Harriett" (young mistress, Miss Harriett.)<br /> +Page 3: "Cival" changed to "Civil" (pre-Civil and Civil War days,)<br /> +Page 38: "nonegenarian" changed to "nonagenarian" (what a nonagenarian is?)<br /> +Page 43: "carpetbagbers" changed to "carpetbaggers" (scalawags and carpetbaggers,)<br /> +Page 45: "SC" changed to "S.C." (RIDGEWAY, S.C.,)<br /> +Page 49: "On e" changed to "One" (One pick a banjo,)<br /> +Page 53: "Dancers" changed to "Dances" (Dances? There was); "william" changed to "William" (young master, William)<br /> +Page 56: "we" added between "us" and "we" (told us we was free); "cornshuckings" changed to "corn-shuckings" (old time corn-shuckings)<br /> +Page 59: "gie" changed to "gi'e" ("He gi'e me sugar.); "pantomime" changed to "pantomime," "the" added before "way" (with pantomine, of the way pidgin)<br /> +Page 62: "to-day" changed to "today" (in Russia today.)<br /> +Page 66: "piscopal" changed to "'Piscopal" (he was 'Piscopal)<br /> +Page 67: "thrity-two" changed to "thirty-two" (thirty or thrity-two)<br /> +Page 76: "OF-EX" changed to "OF EX-SLAVES"<br /> +Page 84: "quite" changed to "quiet"<br /> +Page 86: "Come" changed to "Some" (Some white people); "one" changed to "One" ("One gone in)<br /> +Page 89: "or" changed to "of" (the back of gallery.)<br /> +Page 120: "remembers" changed to "disremembers" (I jes' disremembers,)<br /> +Page 143: "be be" changed to "be" (be so many school)<br /> +Page 149: "folks" changed to "forks" (Ninety-eight silver forks)<br /> +Page 159: "Reovah" changed to (Rehovah Baptist Church.)<br /> +Page 165: "carpet bag" changed to "carpetbag" (de carpetbag,)<br /> +Page 183: "do" added after "only" (only do de)<br /> +Page 187: "cornshucking" changed to "corn-shucking" (corn-shucking 'bout)<br /> +Page 194: "cordality" changed to "cordiality" (with a cordiality); "dilapedated" changed to "dilapidated" (somewhat dilapidated shanty.)<br /> +Page 195: "revently" changed to "reverently"; "out side" changed to "outside" (outside the same church); "necesities" changed to "necessities" (such household necessities)<br /> +Page 196: "asleep" changed to "slept"<br /> +Page 217: "but" changed to "buy" (wanted to buy something)<br /> +Page 231: "no" added after "or" (true or no,)<br /> +Page 255: "i" changed to "I" (as I was.)<br /> +Page 269: "Twentyfive" changed to "Twenty-five" (Twenty-five cent of bacon)<br /> +Page 270: "the the" changed to "the" (at the time his) +</div> +<div class="minispace"> </div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: a Folk History of +Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves, by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES, PART 4 *** + +***** This file should be named 28170-h.htm or 28170-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/1/7/28170/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by the Library of Congress, +Manuscript Division) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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