*John McCoy, ex-slave, who lives in a small shack in the rear of 2310
State St., Houston, Texas, claims to have been born Jan. 1, 1838.
Although his memory is hazy, John is certain that "folks had a heap more
sense in slave times den dey has now."*
"Well, suh, my white folks done larn me to start de cotton row right and
point for de stake at de far end of de field, and dat way a nigger don't
git off de line and go dis-a-way and dat-a-way. He start right and end
right, yes, suh! Dat de way to live--you start right and go de straight
way to de end and you comes out all right.
"I's been here a mighty long time, I sho has, and done forgit a heap,
'cause my head ain't so good no more, but when I first knowed myself I
'longs to old Marse John McCoy. Old Miss Mary was he wife and dey de
only white folks what I ever 'longs to. Dat how come I's a McCoy, 'cause
all de niggers what old marse have goes by his name.
"My pappy's name was Hector and mammy's name Ann, and dey dies when I's
jes' a young buck and dat been a long time 'fore freedom. Ain't got no
brudders and sisters what I knows 'bout. All a slave have to go by am
what de white folks tells him 'bout his kinfolks.
"Old Marse John have a big place round Houston and raises cotton and
corn and hawgs and cows. Dere was lots of wilderness den, full of
varmints and wildcats and bears. Old Marse done larn me 'bedience and
not to lie or steal, and he larn me with de whip. Dat all de larnin' we
gits. Does he cotch you with de book or paper, he whip you hand down. He
don't whip de old folks none, jes' de young bucks, 'cause dey wild and
mean and dat de onlies' way dey larns right from wrong.
"I tells you jes' like I tells everyone--folks had heap more sense in
slave times dan dey has now. Long as a nigger do right, old marse
pertect him. Old Marse feed he niggers good, too, and we has plenty
clothes. Course, dey home-made on de spinnin' wheel, but dey good. De
shoes jes' like pen'tentiary shoes, only not fix up so good. Old Marse
kill a cow for meat and take de hide to de tanner and Uncle Jim make dat
hide into shoes. Dey hard and heavy and hurt de feets, but dey wear like
you has iron shoes.
"Old Marse don't work de niggers Sunday like some white folks do. Dat de
day we has church meetin' under trees. De spirit jes' come down out de
sky and you forgits all you troubles.
"Slave times was de best, 'cause cullud folks am ig'rant and ain't got
no sense and in slave times white folks show dem de right way. Now dey
is free, dey gits uppity and sassy. Some dese young bucks ought to git
dere heads whipped down. Dat larn dem manners.
"Freedom wasn't no diff'rence I knows of. I works for Marse John jes' de
same for a long time. He say one mornin, 'John, you can go out in de
field iffen you wants to, or you can git out iffen you wants to, 'cause
de gov'ment say you is free. If you wants to work I'll feed you and give
you clothes but can't pay you no money. I ain't got none.' Humph, I
didn't know nothin' what money was, nohow, but I knows I'll git plenty
victuals to eat so I stays till old marse die and old miss git shet of
de place. Den I gits me a job farmin' and when I gits too old for dat I
does dis and dat for white folks, like fixin' yards.
"I's black and jes' a poor, old nigger, but I rev'rence my white folks
'cause dey rared me up in de right way. If cullud folk pay 'tention and
listen to what de white folks tell dem, de world be a heap better off.
Us old niggers knows dat's de truth, too, 'cause we larns respec' and
manners from our white folks and on de great day of jedgment my white
folks is gwineter meet me and shake hands with me and be glad to see me.
Yes, suh, dat's de truth!"