*Interview with Aunt Sarah Waggoner,*
*Savannah, Missouri.*
*(Written by G.K. Bartlett of Kansas City Office*
*from FC by Dovie Rose.)*
A familiar figure in Savannah, Missouri is that of an aged, bent and
withered Negro woman with a little patch of white whiskers on her chin,
a cap on her head winter and summer; who is seen almost daily pulling a
little red wagon along the streets.
"Aunt Sarah Waggoner", as she is called, lives alone in a small
unpainted house, almost a hut, near the right-of-way of the Chicago
Great Western Railroad; about three blocks southeast of the courthouse.
The yard as well as the house is cluttered with all kinds of junk, odds
and ends which Aunt Sarah has picked up as she meanders through the
town. She has been a fixture in Savannah for many years and has the
friendship of the white people, who commend her faithfulness and
religious fervor.
"How be you?" she asked pleasantly when answering my knock at her door.
When it was explained that her recollections about slave life before the
war were wanted, she beamed delightedly.
"Yes'm. Come on in an' set, an' soon's I fix the fire I'll tell you
everything about slave times. Everything I kin remember."
She wiped off a chair for her visitor, then busied herself at the old
wood and coal cook stove, where some vegetables were simmering in an
antiquated iron kettle, and "fat meat" was frying in the skillet.
"I was a slave," she stated. "I was born in Kentucky. In Grayson or
Hardin County. I don't know which 'zactly, 'cause we lived in both
counties; an' I never did think to ask ole Miss Howard who raised me;
and I forgot to ask my mother if she knowed, and I don't think she
knowed." Sarah paused for a moment, then continued plaintively, "I wish
I knowed for sure."
"Who was old Miss Howard?"
"She was white folks. I was raised by de Howards. Mr. and Mrs. Jim
Howard. They owned me. We called him Pap, and her Old Miss. My mother's
name was Waggoner. She belonged to Mr. Howard too. My father he belonged
to another man and lived on a farm near us. No mam, no'm, we was never
sold. I'll tell you how 'twas. You see, Mr. Howard's father--he came
over from England. He called all his sons to his bedside at de last and
gave each of them some of de colored people and told them to take good
care of them and never to let them be sold. I had a cousin, June, who
was sold here at de courthouse door in Savannah. Him and another boy was
sold down South.
"The Howards brought me from Kentucky to Missouri. That was befo' de
war. I've been here a long time. I'm 93 years old.
"Sure I know how old I is", she remonstrated.
"I's 93 years old right now (1937). And I knows my birthday too. I knows
it for sure. It come on February 17th. I'se sure about dat, for it comes
so close to dat of Abe Lincoln. His birthday is February 12th."
Memories of the past surged through Aunt Sarah's mind and awakened
emotions. She rose to her feet, and speaking with the enraptured ecstasy
of her race when roused by religious fervor, testified.
"I knowed about Abe Lincoln, 'cause his cousin Cap Lincoln; Yes, Cap
Lincoln, lived right nigh us in Kentucky. And he sure was a fine man!
"I knowed about Abe Lincoln befo' he ever run for president. Long befo'
he was 'sasinated. You see, I lived neighbor to some of his kin folks.
Yes ma'am! Oh, yes, ma'am! Long befo' de war!"
"Yes, Oh Lord! Yes, ma'am!
"Abe Lincoln was jes' next to Jesus Christ.
"Yes, Oh Lord! Yes! Dat he was!
"Jes' next to Jesus Christ!
"I remember when I was freed!"
The exaltation of Aunt Sarah dimmed and faded, and with a quavering
subdued voice she whispered:
"I wish I knowed. I wish I knowed. Abe Lincoln was born in Hardin
County;[3] in the same month I was; almost the same day. I wish I knowed
was I born in the same county he was, but I ain't never goin' to know.
Yes ma'am, I was moved with the Howards from Kentucky," she continued,
"right up to the Nodaway River, about ten miles from Savannah. It took
us about six weeks to come with oxen. I saw the emigrant trains goin'
through to Californy.
[3] Abraham Lincoln was born in Larue County, Kentucky, February 12,
1809.
"That was befo' de war. I'se been here a long time. I'm 93 years old.
I'se been here since de woods burned, and I'm goin' to be here a long
time yet, 'cause my mother was a hundred and fifteen 'fore she died.
"My, but the Indians was thick when I fust come here. And there was
buffalo; and there was deer; and there was quail jes' thick. I wasn't
skeered none of de Indians, and I ain't skeered of nothin' now. No,
ma'am. 'Cause why? 'Cause de white folks put de fust clothes on me, and
fed me; and they been doin' it ever since.
"You wants to know what kind of clothes did we wear in them days? I'm
gwine to tell yer. I jes' had two dresses. De best one was made out of
plain, white muslin. I went out in de woods and got walnut bark to color
it brown.
"I allus had to wash it on Saturday, 'cause we all had to go to church
on Sunday. Yes'm, I went to de white folks' church, and part of de time
I was de only nigger gal there. Then I had another dress and a shirt. I
made them jes' like Old Miss taught me. Dat was my work dress. It was
made with a cord 'round de bottom, a cord as big as my little finger,
so's I couldn't tear it; 'cause I went over fences like a deer.
"De shirt was made like a long petticoat. In de winter old Miss made us
stockings out of yarn, and we had brogan shoes. Didn't you never see any
brogan shoes?" queried Aunt Sarah. "Don't you know what dey looked like?
Huh. Dey was neither lined or bound; and we used a peggin' awl to make
holes for the laces. Some of 'em had copper toes."
"Didn't they hurt your feet?"
"Yes'm, but if dey did hurt, we had to wear 'em anyway. Dem old brogans;
I'm sure glad they're gone.
"Durin' de war, old Miss keep tellin' me I had to help her put new cloth
in de loom and when little Jane, tha's her little girl, wanted me to
play, her mother would say, 'Sarey has to work fast now, 'cause she
goin' to be free'.
"Oh Lord, Miss, Sarey will never be free. But I was freed. Now I am
goin' to tell you about de home life.
"I worked in de house for old Miss, and we had plenty to do and plenty
to eat. When de white folks was through eatin', I got a pan and got de
grub, and set on de floor and et it. Oh Lordee, but I worked hard since
I was twelve years old. But not in de fields. Old Miss she say dere was
plenty for me to do in de house, and dere was, sure 'nough.
"I washed and cooked for all of us. And ironed too. I het de irons,
great big old irons, in de fireplace. I ironed on a quilt spread out on
de floor, and I ironed jes' as nice as anybody. I lived right in de
house with de white folks. In summer we slept, my brother Henry and me,
in a trundle bed in the kitchen; and in de winter made a pallet beside
de fireplace.
"Old Pap was good to us. He kept up a fire all night when it was cold. I
never saw a cookin' stove or a lace shoe until I was freed. We jes' had
to burn our faces cookin' over de fireplace. I milked eight cows and den
put de milk away. Dat took a long time. They didn't have no horses then,
much. They had a yoke of oxen. Sometimes some of us was hired out to
work but we didn't get no money for dat ourselves. Dey drawed de wages.
"No ma'am, dey didn't have no beauty parlors den. Huh. Old Miss never
had her hair curled, or anything like that. We didn't know nothin' about
face powder and primpin' up in dem days. Huh. Old Miss never used
anything on her face 'ceptin' soap and water.
"Yes indeed. We sure did have good times, too. There was dances, and I
liked to dance. Uh-huh. I was a regular king ruler at de dances. Many a
time I danced till broad daylight, and den when I worked I was so sleepy
I'd nod, and nod. Then old Pap he say: 'Go out dere and make Sarey go to
bed'. Yes, indeedy, we had good times, too.
"Did I ever get whopped? I never was whopped--much. Old Miss never
whopped me, 'cause Pap did all de whopping. He said if dere was any
whopping to be done he'd do it. Anyway dey never whopped me--very
often,--'cause I done my work de bes' I could.
"I remember once, when Old Pap started off for St. Joseph, he rode back
into de yard and said to old Miss. 'Don't whop Sarey, or let anybody
else whop her, or I'll cut the hide off their backs when I gets back.'
"Yes'm, we allus called 'em Pap and Old Miss. Pap wouldn't let me take
his name 'cause he was a Republican and believed dat de colored people
ought to have their own laws and doctors and all. He was afraid folks
would think he was a rebel and de soldiers might kill him. We didn't
dare take his name so I took my father's name of Waggoner. He belonged
to one of the neighbors in Kentucky and didn't come to Missouri when we
did. Yes'm, I had two chilun during de war, a boy, Bob, and a girl,
Mary; and later a girl, Minnie. Married? No'm, I never married. I never
was married.
"Well, no'm, I didn't have a very hard time after I was freed. Slaves
wasn't hardly ever allowed to look in de door of de school house, so we
couldn't learn to read and write. When I was freed Pap tried to learn me
evenin's to count my fingers. He made me sit by the fireplace and learn
to count and learn about money so's de white folks couldn't cheat me
after I was free. After I was free one of Mr. Howard's boys taught me my
letters and helped me learn to read some.
"After I was freed I went to St. Joseph and did housework. Den I was a
chambermaid. After while I came back to Savannah to work for de Price
family. Dey was mighty rich and had a big home. Place is still here. I
had a fine time there. I remember Mr. Ed. V. Price. He was just a boy
when I went there to work, and he did plague me terrible some times.
He'd run into the kitchen, grab a handful of cake dough and run outside
laughin'.
"Then I got so I couldn't work no more, and he was a rich man, and he
always helped me. And he left me in his will ten dollars every month for
de res' of my life. Oh yes'm I'm to get my state pension every month.
It's goin' to be twelve dollars. I ain't got it yet, but I will fore
long. I ain't skeared. 'Cause de white folks put de fust clothes on me,
and fed me; and dey been doin' it ever since."
With a weary, dimming of her eyes, old Sarah settled back in her chair,
sighed and murmured:
"I been here a long time. I'm 93 years old."