FRANCES WILLINGHAM, Age 78
288 Bridge Street
Athens, Georgia
Written by:
Sadie B. Hornsby
Athens
Edited by:
Sarah H. Hall
Athens
Leila Harris
Augusta
and
John N. Booth
District Supervisor
Federal Writers' Project
Residencies 6 & 7
The interviewer arrived at Frances Willingham's address on a sultry July
morning, and found a fat and very black Negress sweeping the sidewalk
before the three-room frame house. There was no front yard and the front
steps led up from the sidewalk into the house. A vegetable garden was
visible at the rear of the lot. The plump sweeper appeared to be about
five feet tall. Her wooly white hair was plaited in tiny braids, and she
wore a brown print dress trimmed in red and blue. A strand of red beads
encircled her short neck, and a blue checked coat and high topped black
shoes completed her costume. Asked if Frances Willingham was at home,
the woman replied: "Dis is her you is a-talkin' to. Come right in and
have a seat."
When Frances was asked for the story of her life, her daughter who had
doubtless been eavesdropping, suddenly appeared and interrupted the
conversation with, "Ma, now don't you git started 'bout dem old times.
You knows your mind ain't no good no more. Tomorrow your tongue will be
runnin' lak a bell clapper a-talkin' to yourself." "Shut your big mouth,
Henrietta." Frances answered. "I been sick, and I knows it, but dere
ain't nothin' wrong wid my mind and you knows it. What I knows I'se
gwine to tell de lady, and what I don't know I sho' ain't gwine tell no
lie about. Now, Missus, what does you want to know? Don't pay no
'tention to dis fool gal of mine 'cause her mouth is big as dis room.
"I was born way off down in Twiggs County 'bout a mile from de town of
Jeffersonville. My Pa and Ma was Otto and Sarah Rutherford. Our
Mist'ess, dat was Miss Polly, she called Ma, Sallie for short. Dere was
nine of us chillun, me and Esau, Harry, Jerry, Bob, Calvin, Otto, Sallie
and Susan. Susan was our half-sister by our Pa's last marriage. Us
chillun never done much but play 'round de house and yards wid de white
chillun. I warn't but four years old when dey made us free." Henrietta
again interrupted, "See dere, I told you she don't know what she's
a-talkin' 'bout."
Frances ignored the interruption and continued: "Us lived in log cabins
what had jus' one room wid a stick and mud chimbly at de end. Our
bedsteads was made out of rough planks and poles and some of 'em was
nailed to de sides of de cabins. Mattress ticks was made out of osnaburg
and us filled 'em wid wheat straw in season. When dat was used up us got
grass from de fields. Most any kind of hay was counted good 'nough to
put in a slave's mattress. Dey let us mix some cotton wid de hay our
pillows was stuffed wid.
"My grandmas lived on another plantation. I 'members once Grandma Suck,
she wes my Ma's mammy, come to our house and stayed one or two days wid
us. Daddy's Ma was named Puss. Both my grandmas was field hands, but Ma,
she was a house gal 'til she got big enough to do de cyardin' and
spinnin'. Aunt Phoebie done de weavin' and Aunt Polly was de seamster.
All de lak of dat was done atter de craps was done laid by.
"No Ma'am, nobody never give slave chillun no money in dem times. I
never had none 'til atter us had done been give our freedom. I used to
see Old Marster countin' of it, but de slaves never did git none of dat
money.
"Our Old Marster was a pow'ful rich man, and he sho' b'lieved in givin'
us plenty to eat. It warn't nothin' fine, but it was good plain eatin'
what filled you up and kept you well. Dere was cornbread and meat,
greens of all sorts, 'taters, roas'en-ears and more other kinds of
veg'tables dan I could call up all day. Marster had one big old gyarden
whar he kept most evvything a-growin' 'cept cabbages and 'matoes. He
said dem things warn't fittin' for nobody to eat. Marster let Daddy go
huntin' enough to fetch in lots of 'possums, coons, rabbits, and
squirrels. Us cooked 'em 'bout lak us does now, only us never had no
stoves den, and had to do all de cookin' in open fireplaces in big old
pots and long handled skillets what had big old heavy lids. I'se seed Ma
clean many a 'possum in hot ashes. Den she scalded him and tuk out his
innards. She par-boiled and den baked him and when she fetched him to de
table wid a heap of sweet 'taters 'round him on de dish, dat was sho'
somepin good to eat. Daddy done his fishin' in Muddy Crick 'cause slaves
wern't 'lowed to leave de plantation for nothin' lak dat.
"Summertimes us wore homespun dresses, made wid full skirts sewed on to
tight fittin' waisties what was fastened down de back wid buttons made
out of cows and rams horns. Our white petticoat slips and pantalettes
was made on bodices. In winter us wore balmorals what had three stripes
'round de bottom, and over dem us had on long sleeved ap'ons what was
long as de balmorals. Slave gals' pantalettes warn't ruffled and tucked
and trimmed up wid lace and 'broidery lak Miss Polly's chilluns' was.
Ours was jus' made plain. Grown folks wore rough brogans, but me, I wore
de shoes what Miss Polly's chillun had done outgrowed. Dey called 'em
Jackson shoes, 'cause dey was made wid a extra wide piece of leather
sewed on de outside so as when you knocked your ankles 'gainst one
another, it wouldn't wear no holes in your shoes. Our Sunday shoes
warn't no diffunt from what us wore evvyday.
[TR: HW sidenote: 'durable', regarding Jackson Shoes]
"Marse Lish Jones and his wife--she was Miss Polly--was our Marster and
Mist'ess. Dey sho' did love to be good to deir little Niggers. Dey had
five chillun of deir own, two gals and three boys. Dey was: Mary, Anna
Della, Steve, John, and Bob. 'Bout deir house! Oh, Missus, dat was
somepin to see for sho'. It was a big old fine two-story frame house wid
a porch 'cross de front and 'round both sides. Dere was five rooms on de
fust floor and three upstairs. It sho' did look grand a-settin' back dar
in dat big old oak grove.
"Old Marster had a overseer but he never had no car'iage driver 'cause
he loved to drive for hisself so good. Oh Lord! How big was dat
plantation? Why, it must have been as big as from here to town. I never
did know how many slaves Marster had, but dat old plantation was plumb
full of 'em. I ain't never seed Old Marster do nothin' 'cept drive his
car'iage, walk a little, and eat all he wanted to. He was a rich man,
and didn't have to do nothin'.
"Our overseer got all de slaves up 'fore break of day and dey had to be
done et deir breakfast and in de field when de sun riz up. Dat sun would
be down good 'fore dey got to de house at night. I never seed none of de
grown folks git whupped, but I sho' got a good beatin' myself one time.
I had done got up on top of de big house porch and was a-flappin' my
arms and crowin' lak a rooster. Dey told me to come on down, but I
wouldn't mind nobody and kept on a-crowin' and a-flappin', so dey
whupped me down.
"Dey had jails in Jeffersonville, but dem jails was for white folks what
didn't be-have deirselfs. Old Marster, de overseer, and de patterollers
kept de slaves straight. Dey didn't need no jails for dem.
"I ain't never been to school a day in my life, 'cause when I was
little, Niggers warn't 'lowed to larn to read and write. I heared Ma say
de colored preacher read out of de Bible, but I never seed him do it,
'cause I never went to church none when I was a chap. Colored folks had
deir own church in a out settlement called John De Baptist. Dat's whar
all de slaves went to meetin'. Chilluns was 'lowed to go to baptizin's.
Evvybody went to 'em. Dey tuk dem converts to a hole in de crick what
dey had got ready for dat purpose. De preacher went fust, and den he
called for de converts to come on in and have deir sins washed away.
"Our Marster sot aside a piece of ground 'long side of his own place for
his Niggers to have a graveyard. Us didn't know nothin' 'bout no
fun'rals. When one of de slaves died, dey was put in unpainted home-made
coffins and tuk to de graveyard whar de grave had done been dug. Dey put
'em in dar and kivvered 'em up and dat was all dey done 'bout it.
"Us heared a plenty 'bout patterollers beatin' up Niggers what dey
cotched off deir Marsters' plantations widout no passes. Sometimes dey
cotched one of our Marster's slaves and sometimes dey didn't, but dey
was all time on deir job.
"When slaves come in from de fields at night de 'omans cleant up deir
houses atter dey et, and den washed and got up early next mornin' to put
de clothes out to dry. Mens would eat, set 'round talkin' to other mens
and den go to bed. On our place evvybody wukked on Saddays 'til 'bout
three or four o'clock and if de wuk was tight dey wukked right on 'til
night lak any other day. Sadday nights de young folks got together to
have deir fun. Dey danced, frolicked, drunk likker, and de lak of dat.
Old Marster warn't too hard on 'em no time, but he jus' let 'em have dat
night to frolic. On Sunday he give dem what wanted 'em passes to go to
church and visit 'round.
"Christmas times, chilluns went to bed early 'cause dey was skeered
Santa Claus wouldn't come. Us carried our stockin's up to de big house
to hang 'em up. Next mornin' us found 'em full of all sorts of good
things, 'cept oranges. I never seed nary a orange 'til I was a big gal.
Miss Polly had fresh meat, cake, syrup puddin' and plenty of good sweet
butter what she 'lowanced out to her slaves at Christmas. Old Marster,
he made syrup by de barrel. Plenty of apples and nuts and groundpeas was
raised right dar on de plantation. In de Christmas, de only wuk slaves
done was jus' piddlin' 'round de house and yards, cuttin' wood, rakin'
leaves, lookin' atter de stock, waitin' on de white folks and little
chores lak dat. Hard work started again on de day atter New Year's Day.
Old Marster 'lowed 'em mighty little rest from den 'til atter de craps
was laid by.
"Course Marster let his slaves have cornshuckin's, cornshellin's, cotton
pickin's, and quiltin's. He had grove atter grove of pecan, chestnut,
walnut, hickor'nut, scalybark, and chinquapin trees. When de nuts was
all gathered, Old Marster sold 'em to de big men in de city. Dat was why
he was so rich. Atter all dese things was gathered and tended to, he
give his slaves a big feast and plenty to drink, and den he let 'em rest
up a few days 'fore dey started back to hard wuk.
"I never seed but one marriage on Old Marster's plantation, and I never
will forgit dat day. Miss Polly had done gimme one of little Miss Mary's
sho' 'nough pretty dresses and I wore it to dat weddin', only dey never
had no real weddin'. Dey was jus' married in de yard by de colored
preacher and dat was all dere was to it.
"Ma used to tell us if us didn't be-have Raw Head and Bloody Bones would
come git us and take us off. I tried to see him but I never did. Grown
folks was all time skeerin' chillun. Then us went to bed at night, us
used to see ghosties, what looked lak goats tryin' to butt us down. Ma
said I evermore used to holler out in my sleep 'bout dem things I was so
skeered of.
[HW sidenote: Home remedies]
"White folks was mighty good and kind when deir slaves got sick. Old
Marster sont for Dr. 'Pree (DuPree) and when he couldn't git him, he got
Dr. Brown. He made us swallow bitter tastin' powders what he had done
mixed up in water. Miss Polly made us drink tea made out of Jerusalem
oak weeds. She biled dem weeds and sweetened de tea wid syrup. Dat was
good for stomach trouble, and us wore elder roots strung 'round our
necks to keep off ailments.
"Mercy me! I'se seed plenty of dem yankees a-gwine and comin'. Dey come
to our Marster's house and stole his good mules. Dey tuk what dey wanted
of his meat, chickens, lard and syrup and den poured de rest of de syrup
out on de ground. Atter de war was over Niggers got so rowdy dem Ku
Kluxers come 'long to make 'em be-have deirselfs.' Dem Niggers and
Kluxers too jus' went hog wild.
"What did Niggers have to buy no land wid, when dey never had no money
paid 'em for nothin' 'til atter dey was free? Us jus' stayed on and
wukked for Old Marster, 'cause dere warn't no need to leave and go to no
other place. I was raised up for a field hand, and I ain't never wukked
in no white folks house.
"Me I'se sho' glad Mr. Lincoln sot us free. Iffen it was still slav'ry
time now old as I is, I would have to wuk jus' de same, sick or no. Now
I don't have to ax nobody what I kin do. Dat's why I'se glad I'se free.
"Now, 'bout my marriage; I was a-living in Putnam County at dat time,
and I got married up wid Green Willingham. He had come dar from Jasper
County. I didn't have no weddin'. Ma jus' cooked a chicken for us, and I
was married in a white dress. De waist had ruffles 'round de neck and
sleeves. Us had 17 chilluns in all, seven boys and 10 gals, dere was 19
grandchillun and 21 great grandchillun. Dey ain't all of 'em livin', and
my old man, he's done been daid a long time ago."
Henrietta again made her appearance and addressed her mother: "Hush your
mouth Ma, for you knows you ain't got all dem chillun. I done told de
lady you ain't got your right mind." Frances retorted: "You shut up your
mouth, Henrietta. I is so got my right mind, and I knows how many
chillun of mine dere was. One thing sho' you is got more mouth dan all
de rest of my chillun put together."
The interviewer closed her notebook and took her departure, leaving
Frances dozing in her chair.
[HW: Dist-1-2
Ex-slave #114
(Mrs. Stonestreet)]
ADELINE WILLIS--EX-SLAVE
[Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]
Who is the oldest ex-slave in Wilkes County? This question was answered
the other day when the quest ended on the sunny porch of a little
cottage on Lexington Road in Washington-Wilkes, for there in a straight
old-fashioned split-bottom chair sat "Aunt" Adeline Willis basking in
the warm October sunshine. She is remarkable for her age--she doesn't
know just exactly how old she is, from all she tells and what her "white
folks" say she is around a hundred. Her general health is good, she
spends her days in the open and tires only on the days she cannot be out
in her place in the sun. She has the brightest eyes, her sight is so
good she has never had to wear glasses; she gets around in the house and
yard on her cane. Her memory is excellent, only a time or two did she
slowly shake her head and say apologetically--"Mistress, it's been so
long er go, I reckon I done forgot".
From her long association with white people she uses very little Negro
dialect and always refers to her Mother as "Mother", never as Ma or
Mammy as most Negroes do. This is very noticable.
Her mother was Marina Ragan, "cause she belonged to the Ragans,"
explained Aunt Adeline, "and she was born on the Ragan Plantation right
down on Little River in Greene County" (Georgia). When Marina's "young
Mistress" married young Mr. Mose Wright of Oglethorpe County, she took
Marina to her new home to be her own servant, and there is where Adeline
was born. The place was known as the Wright Plantation and was a very
large one.
Adeline doesn't remember her father, and strange to say, she cannot
recall how many brothers and sisters she had though she tried hard to
name them all. She is sure, however, there were some older and some
younger, "I reckon I must er come along about the middle", she said.
After a little while Aunt Adeline was living far back in the past and
talked freely--with questions now and then to encourage her
reminiscences, she told many interesting things about her life as a
slave.
She told about the slaves living in the Quarters--log houses all in a
long row near the "white folks' house", and how happy they were. She
couldn't remember how many slaves were on the plantation, but was sure
there were many: "Yas'm, my Marster had lots of niggers, jest how many,
I don't know, but there sho' was a sight of us". They were given their
allowance of "rations" every week and cooked their own meals in their
cabins. They had good, plain, home-raised things to eat--"and we was
glad to get it too. We didn't have no fancy fixings, jest plain food".
Their clothes were made by Negro sewing women out of cloth spun and
woven right there in the Quarters. All the little dresses were made
alike. "When they took a notion to give us striped dresses we sho' was
dressed up. I never will forget long as I live, a hickory
stripe--(that's what they called stripes in them days)--dress they made
me, it had brass buttons at the wrist bands. I was so proud of that
dress and felt so dressed up in it I jest strutted er round with it on",
and she chuckled over the recollection of that wonderful dress she wore
so long ago.
When asked what was the very first thing she remembered, Aunt Adeline
gave a rather surprising answer: "The first thing I recollect is my love
for my Mother--I loved her so and would cry when I couldn't be with her,
and as I growed up I kept on loving her jest that a-way even after I
married and had children of my own."
The first work she did was waiting in the house. Before she could read
her mistress taught her the letters on the newspapers and what they
spelled so she could bring them the papers they wanted. Her mother
worked in the field: she drove steers and could do all kinds of farm
work and was the best meat cutter on the plantation. She was a good
spinner too, and was required to spin a broach of "wool spinning" every
night. All the Negro women had to spin, but Aunt Adeline said her mother
was specially good in spinning wool and "that kind of spinning was
powerful slow". Thinking a moment, she added: "And my mother was one of
the best dyers anywhere 'round, and I was too. I did make the most
colors by mixing up all kinds of bark and leaves. I recollect the
prettiest sort of a lilac color I made with maple bark and pine bark,
not the outside pine bark, but that little thin skin that grows right
down next to the tree--it was pretty, that color was."
Aunt Adeline thinks they were more fortunate than any other little
slaves she knew because their marster had a little store right there
where he would give them candy every now and then--bright pretty sticks
of candy. She remembers one time he gave them candy in little tin cups,
and how proud of those cups they were. He never gave them money, but out
of the store they could get what money bought so they were happy. But
they had to have whippings, "yas'um, good er bad we got them whippings
with a long cowhide kept jest fer that. They whipped us to make us grow
better, I reckon".
Although they got whippings a-plenty they were never separated by sale.
"No mam, my white folks never believed in selling their niggers", said
Aunt Adeline, and related an incident proving this. "I recollect once my
oldest brother done something Marster didn't like an' he got mighty mad
with him an' said 'Gus, I'm goin' ter sell you, I ain't a-goin' to keep
you no longer'. Mistress spoke up right quick and said: 'No you ain't
a-goin' to sell Gus, neither, he's nussed and looked after all our
oldest chillun, and he's goin' to stay right here'. And that was the
last of that, Gus was never sold--he went to war with his young Marster
when he went and died up there in the war cause he was homesick, so
Marster come back and said."
Aunt Adeline was surprised when asked if the Doctor ever was called in
to see her or any of the slaves when they were sick back in slavery
days--in fact she was a bit indignant as she answered; "_No mam_, I was
born, growed up, married, had sixteen children and never had no Doctor
with me 'til here since I got so old". She went on to say that her white
folks looked after their Negroes when they were sick.
They were given tonics and things to keep them well so sickness among
them was rare. No "store-bought" medicines, but good old home-made
remedies were used. For instance, at the first sniffle they were called
in and given a drink of fat lightwood tea, made by pouring boiling water
over finely split kindling--"that" explained Aunt Adeline, "was cause
lightwood got turpentine in it". In the Springtime there was a mixture
of anvil dust (gathered up from around the anvil in the blacksmith's
shop) and mixed with syrup, and a teaspoon full given every morning or
so to each little piccaninny as they were called up in the "white folks'
yard". Sometimes instead of this mixture they were given a dose of
garlic and whisky--all to keep them healthy and well.
There was great rejoicing over the birth of a Negro baby and the white
folks were called upon to give the little black stranger a name.
Adeline doesn't remember anything about the holidays and how they were
spent, not even Christmas and Thanksgiving, but one thing she does
remember clearly and that is: "All my white folks was Methodist folks,
and they had fast days and no work was done while they was fastin' and
prayin'. And we couldn't do no work on Sunday, no mam, everybody had to
rest on that day and on preachin' days everybody went to church, white
and black to the same church, us niggers set up in the gallery that was
built in the white folks' church for us".
There wasn't any time for play because there was so much work to do on a
big plantation, but they had good times together even if they did have
so much to do.
Before Adeline was grown her "young Mistress," Miss Mary Wright, married
Mr. William Turner from Wilkes County, so she came to the Turner
Plantation to live, and lived there until several years after the War.
Adeline hadn't been in her new home long before Lewis Willis, a young
Negro from the adjoining plantation, started coming to see her. "Lewis
come to see me any time 'cause his Marster, Mr. Willis, give him a pass
so he wasn't scared to be out at night 'count of the Patterollers. They
didn't bother a nigger if he had a pass, they sho' did beat him." [HW: ?]
When Adeline was fourteen years old she and Lewis married, or rather it
was like this: "We didn't have no preacher when we married, my Marster
and Mistess said they didn't care, and Lewis's Master and Mistress said
they didn't care, so they all met up at my white folks' house and had us
come in and told us they didn't mind our marryin'. My Marster said, 'Now
you and Lewis wants to marry and there ain't no objections so go on and
jump over the broom stick together and you is married'. That was all
there was to it and we was married. I lived on with my white folks and
he lived on with his and kept comin' to see me jest like he had done
when he was a courtin'. He never brought me any presents 'cause he
didn't have no money to buy them with, but he was good to me and that
was what counted."
Superstition and signs still have a big place in the life of this woman
even after a hundred long years. She has outlived or forgotten many she
used to believe in, but still holds fast to those she remembers. If a
rooster crows anywhere near your door somebody is coming "and you might
as well look for 'em, 'cause that rooster done told you". When a person
dies if there is a clock in the room it must be stopped the very minute
of death or it will never be any more good--if left ticking it will be
ruined. Every dark cloudy day brings death--"Somebody leaving this
unfriendly world today". Then she is sure when she "feels sadness" and
doesn't know why, it a sign somebody is dying "way off somewhere and we
don't know it". Yes, she certainly believes in all the signs she
remembers even "to this good day", as she says.
When asked about the war Aunt Adeline said that times were much harder
then: "Why we didn't have no salt--jest plain salt, and couldn't get
none them days. We had to get up the dirt in the smokehouse where the
meat had dripped and 'run it' like lye, to get salt to put on
things--yas'm, times was sho' hard and our Marster was off in war all
four years and we had to do the best we could. We niggers wouldn't know
nothing about it all if it hadn't a been for a little old black, sassy
woman in the Quarters that was a talkin' all the time about 'freedom'.
She give our white folks lots of trouble--she was so sassy to them, but
they didn't sell her and she was set free along with us. When they all
come home from the war and Marster called us up and told us we was free,
some rejoiced so they shouted, but some didn't, they was sorry. Lewis
come a runnin' over there an' wanted me and the chillun to go on over to
his white folks' place with him, an' I wouldn't go--_No mam_, I wouldn't
leave my white folks. I told Lewis to go on and let me 'lone, I knowed
my white folks and they was good to me, but I didn't know his white
folks. So we kept living like we did in slavery, but he come to see me
every day. After a few years he finally 'suaded me to go on over to the
Willis place and live with him, and his white folks was powerful good to
me. After a while, tho' we all went back and lived with my white folks
and I worked on for them as long as I was able to work and always felt
like I belonged to 'em, and you know, after all this long time, I feel
like I am their's."
"Why I live so long, you asking? 'Cause I always been careful and took
good care of myself, eat a plenty and stayed out in the good fresh open
air and sunshine when I could--and then I had a good husband that took
care of me." This last reason for her long life was added as an after
thought and since Lewis, her husband, has been dead these forty years
maybe those first named causes were the real ones. Be that as it may,
Aunt Adeline is a very remarkable old woman and is most interesting to
talk with.
FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECTS
Augusta-Athens
Supervisor: Miss Velma Bell
EXCERPTS FROM SLAVE INTERVIEWS
UNCLE WILLIS
[Date Stamp: APR 8 1937]
[TR: Also in combined interviews as Willis Bennefield.]
"Uncle Willis" lived with his daughter, Rena, who is 74 years old. "I
his baby," said Rena. "All dead but me and I ain't no good for him now,
'cause I kain't tote nothin'."
When asked where her father was, Rena looked out over the blazing cotton
field and called:
"Pap! Oh--pappy! Stop pickin' cotton and come in awhile. Dey's some
ladies wants to see you."
Uncle Willis hobbled slowly to the cabin, which was set in the middle of
the cotton patch. He wore clean blue overalls, obviously new. His small,
regular features had high cheekbones. There was a tuft of white hair on
his chin, and his head was covered with a "sundown" hat.
"Mawnin," he said. "I bin sick. So I thought I might git some cotton
terday."
Willis thinks he is 101 years old. He said: "I was 35 years old when
freedom declared." He belonged to a doctor in Burke County, who, Willis
at first said, had three or four plantations. Later he stated that the
good doctor had five or six places, all in Burke County.
"I wuk in de fiel'," he went on: "and I drove de doctor thirty years. He
owned 300 slaves. I never went to school a day in my life, 'cept Sunday
school, but I tuk de doctor's sons four miles ev'y day to school. Guess
he had so much business in hand he thought de chillun could walk. I used
to sit down on de school steps 'till dey turn out. I got way up de
alphabet by listenin', but when I went to courtin' I forgot all dat."
Asked what his regular duties were, Willis answered with pride:
"Marster had a ca'yage and a buggy too. My father driv' de doctor.
Sometimes I was fixin' to go to bed, and had to hitch up my horse and go
five or six mile. I had a regular saddle horse, two pair of horses for
ca'yage. Doctor were a rich man. Richest man in Burke County. He made
his money on his farm. When summertime come, I went wid him to Bath,
wheh he had a house on Tena Hill. We driv' down in de ca'yage. Sundays
we went to church when Dr. Goulding preach. De darkies went in de side
do'. I hear him preach many times."
Asked about living conditions on the plantation, Willis replied:
"De big house was set in a half acre yard. 'Bout fifty yards on one side
was my house, and fifty yards on de yudder side was de house o' Granny,
a woman what tended de chillun and had charge o'de yard when we went to
Bath." Willis gestured behind him. "Back yonder was de quarters, half a
mile long; dey wuz one room 'crost, and some had shed room. When any of
'em got sick, Marster would go round to see 'em all."
As to church, Willis said:
"I belongst to Hopeful Church. Church people would have singin' and
prayin' and de wicked people would have dancin' and singin'." Willis
chuckled. "At dat time I wuz a regular dancer! I cut de pigeon wing high
enough! Not many cullud peoples know de Bible in slavery time. We had
dances, and prayers, and sing, too. We sang a song, 'On Jordan's stormy
banks I stand, and cast a wishful eye.'"
"How about marriages?" Willis was asked.
"Colored preacher marry 'em. You had to get license and give it to de
preacher and he marry 'em. When de men on our plantation had wives on
udder plantations, dey call 'em broad wives."
"Did you give your wife presents when you were courting?" he was asked.
"I went to courtin' and never give her nuthin' till I marry her."
As to punishments, Willis said that slaves were whipped as they needed
it, and as a general rule the overseer did the whipping.
"When derky wouldn't take whippin' from de overseer," he said, "he had
to ca'y dem to de boss; and if we needed any brushin' de marster brush
'em. Why, de darkies would whip de overseer!"
Willis was asked to describe how slaves earned money for personal use,
and replied:
"Dey made dey own money. In slavery time, if you wanted four-five acre
of land to plant you anything on, marster give it to you and whatever
dat land make, it belong to you. You could take dat money and spend it
any way you wanted. Still he give you somethin' to eat and clothe you,
but dat patch you mek cotton on, sometimes a whole bale, dat money
yours."
Willis thought the plantation house was still there, "but it badly
wounded," he said. "Dey tell me dere ain't nobuddy living in it now. It
south of Waynesboro."
"When de soldiers come thoo'," continued Willis, "dey didn't burn dat
place, but dey went in dere and took out ev'yting dey want and give it
to de cullud people. Dey kep' it till dey got free. De soldiers tuk de
doctor's horses and ca'y 'em off. Got in de crib and tek de corn. Got in
de smoke 'ouse and tek de meat out. Old Marssa bury his money and silver
in an iron chist. Dey tuk it 300 yards away to a clump o' trees and bury
it. It tuk fo' men to ca'y it. Dere was money widout mention in dat
chist! After de soldiers pass thoo' dey went down and got it back."
"What did you do after freedom was declared?"
Willis straightened up.
"I went down to Augusta to de Freedman's Bureau to see if twas true we
wuz free. I reckon dere was over a hundred people dere. De man got up
and stated to de people: 'You all is jus' as free as I am. You ain't got
no mistis and no marster. Work when you want.' On Sunday morning Old
Marster sont de house gal and tell us to all come to de house. He said:
'What I want to send for you all is to tell you dat you are free. You
hab de privilege to go anywheh you want, but I don't want none o' you to
leave me now. I wants you-all to stay right wid me. If you stay, you
mus' sign to it.'