*Interview with Gus Smith,*
*Rolla, Missouri.*
_Slaves Were Well Fed_
"I was born in 1845, on de fourth of July, near Rich Fountain, Osage
County, Mo., not far from Jefferson City. My father's name was Jim
Messersmith, and my mother's maiden name was Martha Williams. I was
called August Messersmith until I was old enough to vote, den I changed
it to plain 'Gus Smith'. My friends nick-named me 'Chinie' and I am
called dat today.
"My master's name was Bill Messersmith and he called hisself a
Pennsylvania Dutchman. His father settled in Missouri, near Jefferson
City many years before de war. He owned 1,500 acres of land. The old
man, my master's father, had a good many slaves but de chillun didn't
have so many after de old man died. Rufus, the old man's son and my
master's brother took one of de Negro boys; his sister, Manisee, took a
Negro girl. These two, Rufus and Manisee never married and lived with my
master. Zennie, another sister, took a girl and a boy. She married a man
by de name of Goodman and my master took my father and my mother.
"My master's father, before he died, told his chillun, dat at his death
he wanted each child to put their slaves out to work until dey earned
$800 a piece, to earn their own freedom, in dat way each slave paid it
dem selves. He did not believe it was right to keep dem in slavery all
their lives. But de war came and dey were free without having to work it
out.
"We all wore home-spun clothes, made of wool mostly. Mother carded, spun
and wove all our clothes. My master let us come and go pretty much as we
pleased. In fact we had much more freedom dan de most of de slaves had
in those days. He let us go to other places to work when we had nothing
to do at home and we kept our money we earned, and spent it to suit
ourselves. We had it so much better dan other slaves dat our neighbors
would not let their slaves associate with us, for fear we would put
devilment in their heads, for we had too much freedom. My father and
mother had their own cabin to live in, with their family, but de rest of
de slaves stayed with our mistress. My father's relation lived within
ten miles of us. Dey came to see us but dat was about all de company we
had.
"We used to sing all the old plantation songs, but my father and mother
were not such good singers. We all had good times along with de work.
During Christmas time, and de whole month of January, it was de rulin'
to give de slaves a holiday in our part of de country. A whole month, to
go and come as much as we pleased and go for miles as far as we wanted
to, but we had better be back by de first of February. If we wanted to
go through a territory where it was hard to travel, or get by, we got a
pass from our master.
"We had quiltins, dancin', makin' rails, for days at a time. My
goodness! We don't have nothin' to eat now like we did then. All kinds
of game, wild ducks, geese, squirrels, rabbits, 'possum, pigeons and
fried chicken. My! women in those days could cook. Great big 'pound
cakes' a foot and a half high. You don't see such things, now-a-days.
"I remember my father shooting so many pigeons at once that my mother
just fed dem to de hogs. Just shoot the game from our back yard. I have
seen de wild pigeons so thick dey looked like storm clouds coming. I've
seen dem so thick dey broke tree limbs down. Ducks and geese de same
way. We could kill dem by tow sacks full, with clubs. White folks and
colored folks came to these gatherings, from miles around, sat up all
night dancin', eatin', and drinkin'. People kept whiskey by de barrel in
those days. You see, Miss, in those days dey just loaded up ten or
twelve bushel of corn, took it to de 'still-house' and traded it for a
barrel of whiskey. Not much selling in those days, everything was
traded, even to labor. Our folks would tell us to go and help so-and-so
and we done it.
"Mother was de cook in those days at our place. De hewed log house we
lived in was very big, about five or six rooms. In times of our
holidays, we always had our own musicians. Sometimes we sent ten or
twelve miles for a fiddler. He'd stay a week or so in one place and den
he would go on to de next farm, maybe four or five miles away, and dey
had a good time for a week. When we didn't have much work, we would get
up about five o'clock every morning, but in busy season we had to be up
and ready to work at daybreak. There was plenty of work for every one
den, even to de little darkies, if only to pull weeds. We raised wheat,
corn, cotton, tobacco, cabbage, potatoes, sheep, hogs and cattle. Had
plenty of everything to eat.
"Our closest neighbors was de Thorntons. Ol' man Thornton did not allow
his slaves to go no place. He was a rough man, a low heavy set fellow,
weighed about one hundred and sixty pounds. He was mean to his slaves.
He whupped dem all de time. I've seen their clothes sticking to their
backs, from blood and scabs, being cut up with de cowhide. He just
whupped dem because he could. He use to say he allus give his niggers a
'breakfast spell ever' mornin'! Dat is he whupped dem every morning. I
remember he had a nigger woman about seventy years old on his place. De
Thorntons did not feed their slaves, dey was nearly starved. One night
that ol' woman was so hungry she stole a chicken from her master, ol'
Thornton, and was cooking it in her cabin. He found it out some way and
started to her cabin, and caught her, while she had it on boiling. He
was so mad, he told her to get a spoon and eat every bite before she
stopped. It was scalding hot but he made her do it. She died right away;
her insides were burned.
"Why, ol' Thornton was dat mean dat he killed his own son. He just beat
him to death with de whip-stock of dat cowhide, a whip made of buckskin.
It was like dis. De boy had a girl he was courtin' in another town. He
started to see her on Saturday noon. His daddy told him to be back by
Sunday night. But de boy did not get back before Monday morning, ten
o'clock. His father was in de field working and saw him coming down de
road. He went to meet him and met him at de gate. He asked why he did
not get back sooner and lit into beating him with de whip stock, de part
dat should be de whip handle. He beat him so hard dat de boy died in
about ten hours. It aroused de neighborhood and dey began to plan a
lynching party. He got wind of it some way and got all his slaves
together and pulled out. He left dat place and no one ever knowed where
he went. Dat happened before de end of de war.
"There was a lot of run-a-way slaves in those days. I never saw any of
dem but I heard de folks talk about dem. Many passed through our part of
de country. In time of slavery, people were sold like cattle or hogs.
There was no sale bills dat we seen, because folks in dem days was
usually honest and did not have a lot of red tape in buying and selling.
Our master would not sell any of us. He did not believe in separating
us, and tried to keep us together. He didn't have any trouble with his
slaves at all. He was as good a man as ever lived and we did pretty much
as we pleased.
"He married before de war, but his first wife died a few months later.
He married a year after his wife died. He went to Pennsylvania and came
back and went to California for about a year. Before he left he made my
father boss. My father stayed on de place and took care of everything.
He was boss all during de war.
"When the battle of Wilson Creek was fought up near Springfield, most
all de soldiers passed by our house. After dey passed den came de
bushwhackers. Dey stole all de niggers dey could, running dem down south
to sell. Dey came to our place in de morning; it must have been about
1862-63. De whole family of colored folks was home, 'cepting my father.
"Dey looked across de road and seen another house and asked us whose
house it was. We told dem it was our master's house. Dey saw we had a
mare in de yard and told us to saddle her up. And told my oldest brother
to be ready to go with dem when dey come back. Dey went half way to my
master's house and for some reason wheeled and came back. My mother
looked out de door and seen them coming and said: 'Here they come.'
She said to my oldest brother, 'Get under dat puncheon floor, maybe dey
won't take August,' meaning me. I was about 12 or 13 years old den. We
had a great big hearth, de rocks and puncheon came right up to it. My
mother raised de one end of a puncheon and my brother hid there under de
floor. De bushwhackers came back to de house and searched everyplace,
failed to find him, even raised de floor and looked under, but my
brother had crawled so far up in de corner dey did not see him. Dey
asked my mother where he was and said, 'By God! We want to know.' Mother
answered and said she sent him down to de field to get some corn for de
hogs and told me to run down there and look for him.
"Well I did. I run down in dat field and am going yet. I stayed out in
dat woods for four days and nights with nothing to eat but what wild
grapes and hazel nuts I could find. I knew better dan to go back dere,
but I did not know where to go. I fell on a plan to go to my young
missus, Zennie. Dey lived off de main road, two miles from where we
lived. When I got to her home, it was in de evening about four o'clock.
I saw my cousin, Melie, fifteen or sixteen years old, but was afraid to
speak to her. I saw her out a piece from de barn, but I wouldn't let her
see me. I stayed all night in de barn, but I wouldn't let her see me. I
stayed all night in de barn and next morning I peeped out de window and
saw her again. She was picking beans. I hollered and she recognized me
and asked me if I wasn't August. I said yes. She told me to come on out
and go with her, dat my mother and all of dem was at their house den. My
oldest brother, Jim, was there too. He was four years older dan me.
"Den I went down to de house and dey soon fixed me something to eat. But
only a little because dey were afraid it might make me sick. My mother
told me to stay with Miss Zennie. Miss Zennie had married de second time
to a man by de name of George McGee. Her first husband, Dave Goodman,
was killed right at de start of de war by a gang of robbers something
like de bushwhackers, who went in gangs of ten and fifteen, stealing
niggers or anything else dey could get their hands on.
"George McGee and my brother Jim hid out in de bluffs at Rollin's Ferry,
a place where ferry boats ran. George McGee hid because he did not want
to go in de army. So he takes my brother and hides in de bluffs. Dey
both came to de house for provisions about twelve o'clock dat night and
took me with dem. We camped out dat night and next morning dey said to
me: 'You stay here. Dey is out of meat at de house.' So dey went back to
de house and killed and dressed a young heifer and came back at night to
get me. We had a good time, eating supper and playing. Along in de night
I heard something like horses hoofs hitting de ground. I told my mother
and she said, 'You don't hear nothin'.'
"George McGee, de young master said, 'Wait, he is right. I hears
someting, too!'
"We jumped up and went out and down a steep holler and made it back to
our camp dat night yet. Next morning we wondered who it could have been
dat we heard. Dat night we went back to see how de folks was getting on
and found out it was my own father and our own master who had come a
hunting for us. If we had known, we would not have run.
"My master told his sister, Miss Zennie to keep us hid out of de way,
that we were doing all right. I stayed in dat bluff about two years,
until de close of de war, I never saw my father and master for over a
year. I saw my mother every time I went to de house for something to
eat, about twelve o'clock at night. My father had to hide out, too. He
kept de stock out in de bushes, watching after de master's affairs while
he was away.
"We stayed hid until dey took General Lee. Den we went back to ol'
master's house and it was not long until peace was declared. Our house
was about a quarter of a mile from de master's, on a farm he had bought
from an old Dutchman, about one hundred and sixty acres. One morning,
ol' master come over early and said: 'Jim, by God! You are a free man
dis morning, as free as I am. I can't hold you any longer. Now take your
family and go over on dat hundred and sixty acres I bought and go to
work.' He was giving us all a chance to pay out de farm for ourselves a
home. My father said: 'There's nothing to go with it to help clear it
and live.' To which ol' master answered: 'There's de smoke-house, take
all you want and I'll furnish you with everything else you need for a
year, until you get a start.' He allowed us to use anything to work
with, he had on his place.
"Den we went to work. Ol' master said, 'I've got all de land my heart
could wish but none of it is cleared off. Go down dere with your boys
and I'll send two men, both white (Irishmen, Jim and Tom Norman) and all
of you clear off dat land. I'll give you five years lease to clear all
you can. All you clear, you can have half." Well, we cleared fifty acres
dat winter. We made rails, fenced it and put it all in corn dat first
year. There was six of us to do dis, my cousin joined my father,
brother, and myself, and de two white men.
"We had it cleared by the first of March--all ready to plow in 1865. My
father raised his own sheep and cotton, and from dis my mother made our
clothes. Father cleared thirty acres on his place de same year and sowed
it all in wheat. De first year we got 817 bushel of wheat and 1500
bushel of corn, it was all new land. Corn really growed in dem days. We
hoed it by hand. You don't see corn like dat now. We worked out every
little weed. Every little darkey worked in dem days.
"My grandad, Godfry, owned a place called de old Potter's place, near
Vichy Springs, Vichy, Missouri, not far from where we lived. He bought
it from a man who used to make pottery. Grandfather made his own mill to
grind grain for bread. In dose days there was no steam operated mills
and few water mills. Sometimes we had to go as much as twenty miles to
grind corn a bushel of corn. So grandfather made his own burr to grind
corn and wheat. It was as big as any burr in de large mills, but it was
turned by hand power. It was made of limestone rock, a great big stone
about two and a half foot across. De top burr would probably weigh about
three or four hundred pounds. Da bottom case would weigh a thousand
pounds or more. There was a hole in de top stone, where de grain flowed
freely to de bottom and ground out on the big thick stone below. I
ground many a bushel of meal on it myself. I don't know how grandfather
got de large stones in place, for it was there as long as I could
remember. I just wonder if it isn't some place there yet. I would love
to go and find out and see de old burr again.
"People call these hard times, shucks, they don't know what hard times
is. Those were hard days, when folks had to go on foot twenty miles to
mill. I remember in my early days, we used cattle for teams to haul,
start at four o'clock in de morning, drive all day, stay over night and
grind de next day. Sometimes de crowd ahead of us was so big we had to
stay over for three or four days. Sometimes we would be until eleven or
twelve at night getting home. Gone at least two days and one night. I
had to make trips like dis many times.
"Sometimes we could take a couple of bushel of corn and go horseback,
but twice a year, Spring and Fall, we would take eight or ten bushel of
wheat, six and eight bushel of corn or according to what we needed and
take de cattle and a old wooden axle wagon, walking and driving de
cattle all de way there and back. We drove or led dem with only a rope
around dem.
"De last trip I made millin', I drove for Bill Fannins, a yoke of young
three-year old cattle. Wasn't even broke. Went twenty-five miles, drove
all de way, walking, while he sat up in de wagon. Sometimes de wagon
dragged in de mud, de old wooden axle burying so deep we couldn't hardly
get it out, going through timber and dodging brush. Some folks went even
further dan dat. Sometimes a mill might be four or five miles from you
but dey got out of fix and you would have to go to another one. Maybe
twenty-five miles or more.
"There was not many good doctors in those days, but my grandfather was
an old fashioned herb doctor. I remember him well. I was about
twenty-five years old when he died. Everybody knew him in dat country
and he doctored among de white people, one of de best doctors of his
kind. He went over thirty miles around to people who sent for him. He
was seldom at home. Lots of cases dat other doctors gave up, he went and
raised them. He could cure anything.
"When I was sick one time, I was den about eighteen or nineteen years
old, my folks had Dr. Boles, from Lane's Prairie and Dr. Mayweather from
Vichey, to come and tend me. Dey both gave me up. I had typhoid and
pneumonia. Dese doctors were de best to be found but dey could do
nothing and said I was as good as dead. My grandfather was gone, had
come to Rolla, doctoring Charley Stroback's child whose clothes had
caught fire and he was burned badly. Grandfather could 'blow out' fire.
"He got home about four o'clock in de morning after de doctors had done
give me up. He felt my pulse and said he didn't know whether I was dead
or alive. No pulse but he said I felt warm. He asked my grandmother if
she had any light bread baked. She said yes and got it for him. He told
her to butter it and lay the butter side down over my mouth and if it
melted I was still living. She did this and soon she said, 'Yes, he is
still alive. Now go to work and get a little whiskey and butter and beat
it together good and drop just two drops in his mouth, and in four hours
drop two more.'
"He sat beside me, layed his hands on my breast and about ten o'clock de
next day I began to come around. I realized he was there and he asked me
if I knew him which I did.
"In 'blowing fire', my grandfather simply blew on de burn and de fire
and pain was gone. It was a secret charm, handed down from generation to
generation. He said only one could be told. He told my Aunt Harriet and
she could 'blow fire' de same as my grandfather.
"I remember one good old doctor in dis part of de country. Old Dr.
Stark. He was as good a doctor, de finest we had in those days. He could
chew tobacco and spit enough to drown a hog. A lot of de old herb
remedies my grandfather used, I can still remember. He used one called
'white root'. It is a bush dat grows here. In de spring of de year, when
its leaves bloom out, in de morning hours, when de sun shines on it, it
looks just like bright tin. It has an awful bitter taste. It was used
for mighty near any ailment. He had another herb, he used, called
'remedy weed'. It is a bright green looking weed dat grows around
springs. It is also used for many ailments. Another one was sarsaparilla
root. It grows here, lots of it. He went to de woods and gathered it all
hisself getting wild cherry bark, ditney, penny royal, and camomile
root. Others he gathered and dried some to make teas and others to put
in whiskey.
"Dogwood buds, some kind of a medicine used as a laxative. Ginseng was
another remedy. I do not know what it was used for, but it was powerful
good, and one remedy he used was called 'spicewood'. It was also a
healthful drink, like store tea. You gather it in de fall, using de stem
or stocky part, break it up and dry it. I used it all de time while I
worked on de river, at de tourist camps. It has a fine flavor and it's
good for you.
"Indian turnip grows by de thousands in de woods here. Great places of
it, looks like turnips, grows in big bunches and bright red. Colored
folks used to use de Indian turnip in slave times. Dey would take dis
and dry it, pulverize it and tie it in big quantities around their feet
to keep off de trail of bloodhounds. No bloodhound could trail a bit
further after smelling it. It was strong like red pepper, burns like
everything and colored folks running away use it all de time.
"Grandfather also used 'butter nut root', some call it white walnut. You
take one dose of dis and it will cure de worst case of chills, no matter
how bad. Take two tablespoons for a dose. It is as severe as croton oil.
By golly, it won't leave a thing in you, clears you out and one dose
does de work. Oh, man, but it is bitter.
"He used golden seal, a medicine found in places here, very costly,
worth $7 to $8 a pound now. I don't know what he used dem all for, but I
do remember of him getting dem in their proper season, and kept dem
always on hand.
"For sore throat or quinsy, he had some sort of tea. He used onion tea,
too. He took an onion, roasted it in its hull in ashes, squeezed out de
juice and added a little sugar and gave it to de patient. For
rheumatism, he used poke root, dried it and put it in whiskey. De only
thing dat is good for rheumatics. There were many more remedies, but I
can't recall them now."