An interview with Herndon Bogan, 76 (?) of State Prison, Raleigh, N. C.
I wus bawned in Union County, South Carolina on de plantation o' Doctor
Bogan, who owned both my mammy Issia, an' my pap Edwin. Dar wus six o'
us chilluns; Clara, Lula, Joe, Tux, Mack an' me.
I doan' member much 'bout slavery days 'cept dat my white folkses wus
good ter us. Dar wus a heap o' slaves, maybe a hundert an' fifty. I
'members dat we wucked hard, but we had plenty ter eat an' w'ar, eben
iffen we did w'ar wood shoes.
I kin barely recolleck 'fore de war dat I'se seed a heap o' cocks
fightin' in pits an' a heap o' horse racin'. When de marster winned he
'ud give us niggers a big dinner or a dance, but if he lost, oh!
My daddy wus gived ter de doctor when de doctor wus married an' dey
shore loved each other. One day marster, he comes in an' he sez dat de
Yankees am aimin' ter try ter take his niggers way from him, but dat dey
am gwine ter ketch hell while dey does hit. When he sez dat he starts
ter walkin' de flo'. 'I'se gwine ter leave yore missus in yore keer,
Edwin,' he sez.
But pa 'lows, 'Wid all respec' fer yore wife sar, she am a Yankee too,
an' I'd ruther go wid you ter de war. Please sar, massa, let me go wid
you ter fight dem Yanks.'
At fust massa 'fuses, den he sez, 'All right.' So off dey goes ter de
war, massa on a big hoss, an' my pap on a strong mule 'long wid de
blankets an' things.
Dey tells me dat ole massa got shot one night, an' dat pap grabs de gun
'fore hit hits de earth an' lets de Yanks have hit.
I 'members dat dem wus bad days fer South Carolina, we gived all o' de
food ter de soldiers, an' missus, eben do' she has got some Yankee folks
in de war, l'arns ter eat cabbages an' kush an' berries.
I 'members dat on de day of de surrender, leastways de day dat we hyard
'bout hit, up comes a Yankee an' axes ter see my missus. I is shakin', I
is dat skeerd, but I bucks up an' I tells him dat my missus doan want
ter see no blue coat.
He grins, an' tells me ter skedaddle, an' 'bout den my missus comes out
an' so help me iffen she doan hug dat dratted Yank. Atter awhile I
gathers dat he's her brother, but at fust I ain't seed no sense in her
cryin' an' sayin' 'thank God', over an' over.
Well sar, de massa an' pap what had gone off mad an' healthy an' ridin'
fine beastes comes back walkin' an' dey looked sick. Massa am white as
cotton, an' so help me, iffen my pap, who wuz black as sin, ain't pale
too.
Atter a few years I goes ter wuck in Spartanburg as a houseboy, den I
gits a job wid de Southern Railroad an' I goes ter Charlotte ter
night-watch de tracks.
I stays dar eighteen years, but one night I kills a white hobo who am
tryin' ter rob me o' my gol' watch an' chain, an' dey gives me eighteen
months. I'se been hyar six already. He wus a white man, an' jist a boy,
an' I is sorry, but I comes hyar anyhow.
I hyard a ole 'oman in Charlotte tell onct 'bout witchin' in slavery
times, dar in Mecklenburg County. She wus roun' ninety, so I reckon she
knows. She said dat iffen anybody wanted ter be a witch he would draw a
circle on de groun' jist at de aidge o' dark an' git in de circle an'
squat down.
Dar he had ter set an' talk ter de debil, an' he mus' say, 'I will have
nothin' ter do wid 'ligion, an' I wants you ter make me a witch.' Atter
day he mus' bile a black cat, a bat an' a bunch of herbs an' drink de
soup, den he wuz really a witch.
When you wanted ter witch somebody, she said dat you could take dat
stuff, jist a little bit of hit an' put hit under dat puson's doorsteps
an' dey'd be sick.
You could go thru' de key hole or down de chimney or through de chinks
in a log house, an' you could ride a puson jist lak ridin' a hoss. Dat
puson can keep you outen his house by layin' de broom 'fore de do' an'
puttin' a pin cushion full of pins side of de bed do', iffen he's a mind
to.
Dat puson can kill you too, by drawin' yore pitcher an' shootin' hit in
de haid or de heart too.
Dar's a heap o' ways ter tell fortunes dat she done tol' me but I'se
done forgot now 'cept coffee groun's an' a little of de others. You
can't tell hit wid 'em do', case hit takes knowin' how, hit shore
does.
N. C. District: No. 2 [320022]
Worker: T. Pat Matthews
No. Words: 1,741
Subject: ANDREW BOONE
Story Teller: Andrew Boone
Editor: G. L. Andrews
ANDREW BOONE
age 90 years.
Wake County, North Carolina. Harris Farm.
I been living in dese backer barns fifteen years. I built this little
shelter to cook under. Dey cut me off the WPA cause dey said I wus too
ole to work. Dey tole us ole folks we need not put down our walkin'
sticks to git work cause dey jes' won't goin' to put us on.
Well, I had some tomatoes cooked widout any grease for my breakfast. I
had a loaf of bread yesterday, but I et it. I ain't got any check from
the ole age pension an' I have nothin' to eat an' I am hongry. I jes'
looks to God. I set down by de road thinkin' bout how to turn an' what
to do to git a meal, when you cum along. I thanks you fer dis dime. I
guess God made you give it to me.
I wus glad to take you down to my livin' place to give you my story.
Dis shelter, an ole tobacco barn, is better dan no home at all. I is a
man to myself an' I enjoy livin' out here if I could git enough to eat.
Well de big show is coming to town. It's de Devil's wurk. Yes sir, it's
de Devil's wurk. Why dem show folks ken make snakes an' make 'em crawl
too. Dere wus one in Watson Field in de edge of Raleigh not long ago an'
he made snakes an' made 'em crawl too. All shows is de Devil's wurk.
I never done anything fer myself in all my life. I always wurked fer de
Rebels. I stuck right to 'em. Didn't have no sense fer doin' dat I
guess.
One time a Rebel saw a Yankee wid one eye, one leg an' one arm. De
Yankee wus beggin'. De Rebel went up to him an' give him a quarter. Den
he backed off an' jes' stood a-lookin' at de Yankee, presently he went
back an' give him anudder quarter, den anudder, den he said, 'You take
dis whole dollar, you is de first Yankee I eber seed trimmed up jes' to
my notion, so take all dis, jes' take de whole dollar, you is trimmed up
to my notion'.
I belonged to Billy Boone in Slavery time. He wus a preacher. He lived
on an' owned a plantation in Northampton County. The plantation wus near
woodland. The nearest river to the place wus the Roanoke. My ole missus'
name wus Nancy. When ole marster died I stayed around wid fust one then
another of the chilluns, cause marster tole me jes' fore he died fer me
to stay wid any of 'em I wanted to stay with. All dem ole people done
dead an' gone on.
Niggers had to go through thick an' thin in slavery time, with rough
rations most of de time, wid jes' enough clothin' to make out wid. Our
houses were built of logs an' covered wid slabs. Dey wus rived out of
blocks of trees about 3-6 and 8ft in length. De chimleys wus built of
sticks and mud, den a coat of clay mud daubed over 'em. De cracks in de
slave houses wus daubed wid mud too.
We wurked from sun to sun. If we had a fire in cold weather where we
wus wurkin' marster or de overseer would come an' put it out. We et
frozen meat an' bread many times in cold weather. After de day's wurk in
de fields wus over we had a task of pickin' de seed from cotton till we
had two ounces of lint or spin two ounces of cotton on a spinnin' wheel.
I spun cotton on a spinnin' wheel. Dats de way people got clothes in
slavery time.
I can't read an' write but dey learned us to count. Dey learned us to
count dis way. 'Ought is an' ought, an' a figger is a figger, all for de
white man an' nothin' fer de nigger'. Hain't you heard people count dat
way?
Dey sold slaves jes' like people sell hosses now. I saw a lot of slaves
sold on de auction block. Dey would strip 'em stark naked. A nigger
scarred up or whaled an' welted up wus considered a bad nigger an' did
not bring much. If his body wus not scarred, he brought a good price. I
saw a lot of slaves whupped an' I was whupped myself. Dey whupped me wid
de cat o' nine tails. It had nine lashes on it. Some of de slaves wus
whupped wid a cabbin paddle. Dey had forty holes in' em an' when you wus
buckled to a barrel dey hit your naked flesh wid de paddle an' every
whur dere wus a hole in de paddle it drawed a blister. When de whuppin'
wid de paddle wus over, dey took de cat o' nine tails an' busted de
blisters. By dis time de blood sometimes would be runnin' down dere
heels. Den de next thing wus a wash in salt water strong enough to hold
up an egg. Slaves wus punished dat way fer runnin' away an' sich.
If you wus out widout a pass dey would shore git you. De paterollers
shore looked after you. Dey would come to de house at night to see who
wus there. If you wus out of place, dey would wear you out.
Sam Joyner, a slave, belonged to marster. He wus runnin' from de
paterollers an' he fell in a ole well. De pateroller went after marster.
Marster tole' em to git ole Sam out an' whup him jes' as much as dey
wanted to. Dey got him out of de well an' he wus all wet an' muddy. Sam
began takin' off his shoes, den he took off his pants an' got in his
shirt tail. Marster, he say, 'What you takin' off you clothes fer Sam?'
Sam, he say, 'Marster, you know you all can't whup dis nigger right over
all dese wet clothes.' Den Sam lit out. He run so fas' he nearly flew.
De paterollers got on dere hosses an' run him but dey could not ketch
him. He got away. Marster got Sam's clothes an' carried 'em to de house.
Sam slipped up next morning put his clothes on an' marster said no more
about it.
I wus a great big boy when de Yankees come through. I wus drivin' a two
mule team an' doin' other wurk on de farm. I drove a two hoss wagon when
dey carried slaves to market. I went to a lot of different places.
My marster wus a preacher, Billy Boone. He sold an' bought niggers. He
had fifty or more. He wurked the grown niggers in two squads. My father
wus named Isham Boone and my mother wus Sarah Boone. Marster Boone
whupped wid de cobbin paddle an' de cat o' nine tails an' used the salt
bath an' dat wus 'nough. Plenty besides him whupped dat way.
Marster had one son, named Solomon, an' two girls, Elsie an' Alice. My
mother had four children, three boys an' one girl. The boys were named
Sam, Walter and Andrew, dats me, an' de girl wus Cherry.
My father had several children cause he had several women besides
mother. Mollie and Lila Lassiter, two sisters, were also his women.
Dese women wus given to him an' no udder man wus allowed to have
anything to do wid 'em. Mollie an' Lila both had chilluns by him. Dere
names wus Jim, Mollie, Liza, Rosa, Pete an' I can't remember no more of
'em.
De Yankees took jes' what dey wanted an' nothin' stopped 'em, cause de
surrender had come. Before de surrender de slave owners begun to scatter
de slaves 'bout from place to place to keep de Yankees from gittin' 'em.
If de Yankees took a place de slaves nearby wus moved to a place further
off.
All I done wus fer de Rebels. I wus wid 'em an' I jes' done what I wus
tole. I wus afraid of de Yankees 'cause de Rebels had told us dat de
Yankees would kill us. Dey tole us dat de Yankees would bore holes in
our shoulders an' wurk us to carts. Dey tole us we would be treated a
lot worser den dey wus treating us. Well, de Yankees got here but they
treated us fine. Den a story went round an' round dat de marster would
have to give de slaves a mule an' a year's provisions an' some lan',
about forty acres, but dat was not so. Dey nebber did give us anything.
When de war ended an' we wus tole we wus free, we stayed on wid marster
cause we had nothin' an' nowhere to go.
We moved about from farm to farm. Mother died an' father married Maria
Edwards after de surrender. He did not live wid any of his other slave
wives dat I knows of.
I have wurked as a han' on de farm most of de time since de surrender
and daddy worked most of de time as a han', but he had gardens an'
patches most everywhere he wurked. I wurked in New York City for fifteen
years with Crawford and Banhay in de show business. I advertised for
'em. I dressed in a white suit, white shirt, an' white straw hat, and
wore tan shoes. I had to be a purty boy. I had to have my shoes shined
twice a day. I lived at 18 Manilla Lane, New York City. It is between
McDougall Street and 6th Avenue. I married Clara Taylor in New York
City. We had two children. The oldest one lives in New York. The other
died an' is buried in Raleigh.
In slavery time they kept you down an' you had to wurk, now I can't
wurk, an' I am still down. Not allowed to wurk an' still down. It's all
hard, slavery and freedom, both bad when you can't eat. The ole bees
makes de honey comb, the young bee makes de honey, niggers makes de
cotton an' corn an' de white folks gets de money. Dis wus de case in
Slavery time an' its de case now. De nigger do mos' de hard wurk on de
farms now, and de white folks still git de money dat de nigger's labor
makes.