Mrs. Colbert lives with her daughter in a very comfortable home. She
seems very happy and was glad to talk of her early days. How she would
laugh when telling of the experiences of her family.
She has reared a large family of her own, and feels very proud of them.
Submitted December 1, 1937
Indianapolis, Indiana
Wm. R. Mays
Dist. 4
Johnson County, Ind.
July 29, 1937
SLAVERY DAYS OF MANDY COOPER OF LINCOLN COUNTY, KENTUCKY
FRANK COOPER
715 Ott St., Franklin, Ind.
Frank Cooper, an aged colored man of Franklin, relates some very
interesting conditions that existed in slavery days as handed down to
him by his mother.
Mandy Cooper, the mother of Frank Cooper, was 115 years old when she
died; she was owned by three different families: the Good's, the
Burton's, and the Cooper's, all of Lincoln Co. Kentucky.
"Well, Ah reckon Ah am one of the oldest colored men hereabouts,"
confessed aged Frank Cooper. "What did you all want to see me about?" My
mission being stated, he related one of the strangest categories
alluding to his mother's slave life that I have ever heard.
"One day while mah mammy was washing her back my sistah noticed ugly
disfiguring scars on it. Inquiring about them, we found, much to our
amazement, that they were mammy's relics of the now gone, if not
forgotten, slave days.
"This was her first reference to her "misery days" that she had evah
made in my presence. Of course we all thought she was tellin' us a big
story and we made fun of her. With eyes flashin', she stopped bathing,
dried her back and reached for the smelly ole black whip that hung
behind the kitchen door. Biddin' us to strip down to our waists, my
little mammy with the boney bent-ovah back, struck each of us as hard as
evah she could with that black-snake whip, each stroke of the whip drew
blood from our backs. "Now", she said to us, "you have a taste of
slavery days." With three of her children now having tasted of some of
her "misery days" she was in the mood to tell us more of her sufferings;
still indelibly impressed in my mind. [TR: illegible handwritten note
here.]
'My ole back is bent ovah from the quick-tempered blows feld by the
red-headed Miss Burton.
'At dinner time one day when the churnin' wasn't finished for the
noonday meal', she said with an angry look that must have been reborn in
mah mammy's eyes--eyes that were dimmed by years and hard livin', 'three
white women beat me from anger because they had no butter for their
biscuits and cornbread. Miss Burton used a heavy board while the missus
used a whip. While I was on my knees beggin' them to quit, Miss Burton
hit the small of mah back with the heavy board. Ah knew no more until
kind Mr. Hamilton, who was staying with the white folks, brought me
inside the cabin and brought me around with the camphor bottle. Ah'll
always thank him--God bless him--he picked me up where they had left me
like a dog to die in the blazin' noonday sun.
'After mah back was broken it was doubted whether ah would evah be able
to work again or not. Ah was placed on the auction block to be bidded
for so mah owner could see if ah was worth anything or not. One man bid
$1700 after puttin' two dirty fingahs in my mouth to see my teeth. Ah
bit him and his face showed angah. He then wanted to own me so he could
punish me.
'Thinkin' his bid of $1700 was official he unstrapped his buggy whip to
beat me, but my mastah saved me. My master declared the bid unofficial.
'At this auction my sister was sold for $1900 and was never seen by us
again.'
"My mother related some experiences she had with the Paddy-Rollers,
later called the "Kuklux", these Paddy-Rollers were a constant dread to
the Negroes. They would whip the poor darkeys unmercifully without any
cause. One night while the Negroes were gathering for a big party and
dance they got wind of the approaching Paddy-Rollers in large numbers
on horseback. The Negro men did not know what to do for protection, they
became desperate and decided to gather a quantity of grapevines and tied
them fast at a dark place in the road. When the Paddy-Rollers came
thundering down the road bent on deviltry and unaware of the trap set
for them, plunged head-on into these strong grapevines and three of
their number were killed and a score was badly injured. Several horses
had to be shot following injuries.
"When the news of this happening spread it was many months before the
Paddy-Rollers were again heard of."
Albert Strope, Field Worker
Federal Writers' Project
St. Joseph County--District #1
Mishawaka, Indiana
EX-SLAVE
REV. H.H. EDMUNDS
403 West Hickory Street
Elkhart, Indiana
Rev. H.H. Edmunds has resided at 403 West Hickory Street in Elkhart for
the past ten years. Born in Lynchburg, Virginia, in 1859, he lived there
for several years. Later he was taken to Mississippi by his master, and
finally to Nashville, Tennessee, where he lived until his removal to
Elkhart.
Mr. Edmunds is very religious, and for many years has served his people
as a minister of the Gospel. He feels deeply that the religion of today
has greatly changed from the "old time religion." In slavery days, the
colored people were so subjugated and uneducated that he claims they
were especially susceptible to religion, and poured out their religious
feelings in the so-called negro spirituals. Mr. Edmunds is convinced
that the superstitions of the colored people and their belief in ghosts
and gobblins is due to the fact that their emotions were worked upon by
slave drivers to keep them in subjugation. Oftentimes white people
dressed as ghosts, frightened the colored people into doing many things
under protest. The "ghosts" were feared far more than the slave-drivers.
The War of the Rebellion is not remembered by Mr. Edmunds, but he
clearly remembers the period following the war known as the
Reconstruction Period. The Negroes were very happy when they learned
they were free as a result of the war. A few took advantage of their
freedom immediately, but many, not knowing what else to do, remained
with their former masters. Some remained on the plantations five years
after they were free. Gradually they learned to care for themselves,
often through instructions received from their former masters, and then
they were glad to start out in the world for themselves. Of course,
there were exceptions, for the slaves who had been abused by cruel
masters were only too glad to leave their former homes.
The following reminiscense is told by Mr. Edmunds:
"As a boy, I worked in Virginia for my master, a Mr. Farmer[TR:?]. He
had two sons who served as bosses on the farm. An elder sister was the
head boss. After the war was over, the sister called the colored people
together and told them that they were no longer slaves, that they might
leave if they wished.
"The slaves had been watering cucumbers which had been planted around
barrels filled with soil. Holes had been bored in the barrels, and when
water was poured in the barrels, it gradually seeped out through the
holes thus watering the cucumbers.
"After the speech, one son told the slaves to resume their work. Since I
was free, I refused to do so, and as a result, I received a terrible
kicking. I mentally resolved to get even some day. Years afterward, I
went to the home of this man for the express purpose of seeking revenge.
However, I was received so kindly, and treated so well, that all
thoughts of vengeance vanished. For years after, my former boss and I
visited each other in our own homes."
Mr. Edmunds states that the Negro people prefer to be referred to as
colored people, and deeply resent the name "nigger."
Archie Koritz, Field Worker
Federal Writers' Project
Lake County--District #1
Gary, Indiana
EX-SLAVES
JOHN EUBANKS & FAMILY
Gary, Indiana
Gary's only surviving Civil War veteran was born a slave in Barren
County, Kentucky, June 6, 1836. His father was a mulatto and a free
negro. His mother was a slave on the Everrett plantation and his
grandparents ware full-blooded African negroes. As a child he began work
as soon as possible and was put to work hoeing and picking cotton and
any other odd jobs that would keep him busy. He was one of a family of
several children, and is the sole survivor, a brother living in
Indianapolis, having died there in 1935.
Following the custom of the south, when the children of the Everrett
family grew up, they married and slaves were given them for wedding
presents. John was given to a daughter who married a man of the name of
Eubanks, hence his name, John Eubanks. John was one of the more
fortunate slaves in that his mistress and master were kind and they were
in a state divided on the question of slavery. They favored the north.
The rest of the children were given to other members of the Everrett
family upon their marriage or sold down the river and never saw one
another until after the close of the Civil War.
Shortly after the beginning of the Civil War, when the north seemed to
be losing, someone conceived the idea of forming negro regiments and as
an inducement to the slaves, they offered them freedom if they would
join the Union forces. John's mistress and master told him that if he
wished to join the Union forces, he had their consent and would not have
to run away like other slaves were doing. At the beginning of the war,
John was twenty-one years of age. When Lincoln freed the slaves by his
Emancipation Proclamation, John was promptly given his freedom by his
master and mistress.
John decided to join the northern army which was located at Bowling
Green, Kentucky, a distance of thirty-five miles from Glasgow where John
was living. He had to walk the entire thirty-five miles. Although he
fails to remember all the units that he was attached to, he does
remember that it was part of General Sherman's army. His regiment
started with Sherman on his famous march through Georgia, but for some
reason unknown to John, shortly after the campaign was on its way, his
regiment was recalled and sent elsewhere.
His regiment was near Vicksburg, Mississippi, at the time Lee
surrendered. Since Lee was a proud southerner and did not want the
negroes present when he surrendered, Grant probably for this reason as
much as any other refused to accept Lee's sword. When Lee surrendered
there was much shouting among the troops and John was one of many put to
work loading cannons on boats to be shipped up the river. His company
returned on the steamboat "Indiana." Upon his return to Glasgow, [HW:
Ky.] he saw for the first time in six years, his mother and other
members of his family who had returned free.
Shortly after he returned to Glasgow at the close of the Civil War, he
saw several colored people walking down the highway and was attracted to
a young colored girl in the group who was wearing a yellow dress.
Immediately he said to himself, "If she ain't married there goes my
wife." Sometime later they met and were married Christmas day in 1866.
To this union twelve children were born four of whom are living today,
two in Gary and the others in the south. After his marriage he lived on
a farm near Glasgow for several years, later moving to Louisville, where
he worked in a lumber yeard. He came to Gary in 1924, two years after
the death of his wife.
President Grant was the first president for whom he cast his vote and he
continued to vote until old age prevented him from walking to the polls.
Although Lincoln is one of his favorite heroes, Teddy Roosevelt tops his
list of great men and he never failed to vote for him.
In 1926, he was the only one of three surviving memebers of the Grand
Army of the Republic in Gary and mighty proud of the fact that he was
the only one in the parade. In 1937 he is the sole survivor.
He served in the army as a member of Company K of the 108th, Kentucky
Infantry (Negro Volunteers).
When General Morgan, the famous southern raider, crossed the Ohio on his
raid across southern Indiana, John was one of the Negro fighters who
after heavy fighting, forced Morgan to recross the river and retreat
back to the south. He also participated in several skirmishes with the
cavalry troops commanded by the famous Nathan Bedfored Forrest, and was
a member of the Negro garrison at Fort Pillow, on the Mississippi which
was assaulted and captured. This resulted in a massacre of the negro
soldiers. John was in several other fights, but as he says, "never onct
got a skinhurt."
At the present time, Mr. Eubanks is residing with his daughter, Mrs.
Bertha Sloss and several grandchildren, in Gary, Indiana. He is badly
crippled with rheumatism, has poor eyesight and his memory is failing.
Otherwise his health is good. Most of his teeth are good and they are a
source of wonder to his dentist. He is ninety-eight years of age and
his wish in life now, is to live to be a hundred. Since his brother and
mother both died at ninety-eight and his paternal grandfather at one
hundred-ten years of age, he has a good chance to realize this ambition.
Because of his condition most of this interview was had from his
grandchildren, who have taken notes in recent years of any incidents
that he relates. He is proud that most of his fifty grandchildren are
high school graduates and that two are attending the University of
Chicago.
In 1935, he enjoyed a motor trip, when his family took him back to
Glasgow for a visit. He suffered no ill effects from the trip.
Archie Koritz, Field Worker
816 Mound Street, Valparaiso, Indiana
Federal Writers' Project
Lake County, District #1
Gary, Indiana
EX-SLAVES
INTERVIEW WITH JOHN EUBANKS, EX-SLAVE
John Eubanks, Gary's only negro Civil War survivor has lived to see the
ninety-eighth anniversary of his birth and despite his advanced age,
recalls with surprising clarity many interesting and sad events of his
boyhood days when a slave on the Everett plantation.
He was born in Glasgow, Barron County, Kentucky, June 6, 1839, one of
seven children of a chattel of the Everett family.
The old man retains most of his faculties, but bears the mark of his
extreme age in an obvious feebleness and failing sight and memory. He is
physically large, says he once was a husky, weighing over two hundred
pounds, bears no scars or deformities and despite the hardships and
deprivations of his youth, presents a kindly and tolerant attitude.
"I remembah well, us young uns on the Everett plantation," he relates,
"I worked since I can remembah, hoein', pickin' cotton and othah chohs
'round the fahm. We didden have much clothes, nevah no undahweah, no
shoes, old ovahalls and a tattahed shirt, wintah and summah. Come de
wintah, it be so cold mah feet weah plumb numb mos' o' de time and manya
time--when we git a chanct--we druve the hogs from outin the bogs an'
put ouah feet in the wahmed wet mud. They was cracked and the skin on
the bottoms and in de toes weah cracked and bleedin' mos' o' time, wit
bloody scabs but de summah healed them agin."
"Does yohall remembah, Granpap," his daughter prompted, "Yoh
mahstah--did he treat you mean?"
"No," his tolerant acceptance apparent in his answer, "it weah done
thataway. Slaves weah whipt and punished and the younguns belonged to
the mahstah to work foah him oh to sell. When I weah 'bout six yeahs
old, Mahstah Everett give me to Tony Eubanks as a weddin' present when
he married mahstah's daughtah Becky. Becky would'n let Tony whip her
slaves who came from her fathah's plantation. 'They ah my prophty,' she
say, 'an' you caint whip dem.' Tony whipt his othah slaves but not
Becky's."
"I remembah" he continued, "how they tied de slave 'round a post, wit
hands tied togedder 'round the post, then a husky lash his back wid a
snakeskin lash 'til hisn back were cut and bloodened, the blood
spattered" gesticulating with his unusually large hands, "an' hisn back
all cut up. Den they'd pouh salt watah on hem. Dat dry and hahden and
stick to hem. He nevah take it off 'till it heal. Sometimes I see
marhstah Everett hang a slave tip-toe. He tie him up so he stan' tip-toe
an' leave him thataway.
"I be twenty-one wehn wah broke out. Mahstah Eubanks say to me, 'Yohall
don' need to run 'way ifn yohall want to jine up wid de ahmy.' He say,
'Deh would be a fine effin slaves run off. Yohall don' haf to run off,
go right on and I do not pay dat fine.' He say, ''nlist in de ahmy but
don' run off.' Now I walk thirty-five mile from Glasgow to Bowling Green
to dis place--to da 'nlistin' place--from home fouh mile--to Glasgow--to
Bowling Green, thirty-five mile. On de road I meet up with two boys, so
we go on. Dey run 'way from Kentucky, and we go together. Then some
Bushwackers come down de road. We's scared and run to the woods and hid.
As we run tru de woods, pretty soon we heerd chickens crowing. We fill
ouah pockets wit stones. We goin' to kill chickens to eat. Pretty soon
we heerd a man holler, 'You come 'round outta der'--and I see a white
man and come out. He say, 'What yoh all doin' heah?' I turn 'round and
say, 'well boys, come on boys,' an' the boys come out. The man say, 'I'm
Union Soldier. What yoh all doin' heah?' I say, 'We goin' to 'nlist in
de ahmy.' He say, 'Dat's fine' and he say, 'come 'long' He say, 'git
right on white man's side'--we go to station. Den he say, 'You go right
down to de station and give yoh inforhmation. We keep on walkin'. Den we
come to a white house wit stone steps in front so we go in. An' we got
to 'nlistin' place and jine up wit de ahmy.
"Den we go trainin' in d' camp and we move on. Come to a little town ...
a little town. We come to Bolling Green ... den to Louiville. We come to
a rivah ... a rivah (painfully recalling) d' Mississippi.
"We weah 'nfantry and petty soon we gits in plenty fights, but not a
scratch hit me. We chase dem cavalry. We run dem all night and next
mohnin' d' Captain he say, 'Dey done broke down.' When we rest, he say
'See dey don' trick you.' I say, 'We got all d' ahmy men togedder. We
hold dem back 'til help come.'
"We don' have no tents. Sleep on naked groun' in wet and cold and rain.
Mos' d' time we's hungry but we win d' war and Mahstah Eubanks tell us
we no moah hisn property, we's free now."
The old man can talk only in short sentences and his voice dies to a
whisper and soon the strain became evident. He was tired. What he does
remember is with surprising clearness especially small details, but with
a helpless gesture, he dismisses names and locations. He remembers the
exact date of his discharge, March 20, 1866, which his daughter verified
by producing his discharge papers. He remembers the place, Vicksburg,
the Company--K, and the Regiment, 180th. Dropping back once more to his
childhood he spoke of an incident which his daughter says makes them all
cry when he relates it, although they have heard it many times.
"Mahstah Everett whipt me onct and mothah she cried. Then Mahstah
Everett say, 'Why yoh all cry?--Yoh cry I whip anothah of these young
uns. She try to stop. He whipt 'nother. He say, 'Ifn yoh all don' stop,
yoh be whipt too!' and mothah she trien to stop but teahs roll out, so
Mahstah Everett whip her too.
"I wanted to visit mothah when I belong to Mahst' Eubanks, but Becky
say, 'Yoh all best not see youh mothah, or yoh wan' to go all de time'
then explaining, 'she wan' me to fohgit mothah, but I nevah could. When
I cm back from d' ahmy, I go home to mothah and say 'don' y'know me?'
She say, 'No, I don' know you.' I say, 'Yoh don' know me?' She say, 'No,
ah don' know yoh.' I say, 'I'se John.' Den she cry and say how ahd growd
and she thought I'se daid dis long time. I done 'splain how the many
fights I'se in wit no scratch and she bein' happy."
Speaking of Abraham Lincoln's death, he remarked, "Sho now, ah remembah
dat well. We all feelin' sad and all d'soldiers had wreaths on der
guns."
Upon his return from the army he married a young negress he had seen
some time previous at which time he had vowed some day to make her his
wife. He was married Christmas day, 1866. For a number of years he lived
on a farm of his own near Glasgow. Later he moved with his family to
Louisville where he worked in a lumber yard. In 1923, two years after
the death of his wife, he came to Gary, when he retired. He is now
living with his daughter, Mrs. Sloss, 2713 Harrison Boulevard, Gary.
Cecil C. Miller
Dist. #3
Tippecanoe Co.
INTERVIEW WITH MR. JOHN W. FIELDS, EX-SLAVE OF CIVIL WAR PERIOD
September 17, 1937
[Illustration: John W. Fields]
John W. Fields, 2120 North Twentieth Street, Lafayette, Indiana, now
employed as a domestic by Judge Burnett is a typical example of a fine
colored gentleman, who, despite his lowly birth and adverse
circumstances, has labored and economized until he has acquired a
respected place in his home community. He is the owner of three
properties; un-mortgaged, and is a member of the colored Baptist Church
of Lafayette. As will later be seen his life has been one of constant
effort to better himself spiritually and physically. He is a fine
example of a man who has lived a morally and physically clean life. But,
as for his life, I will let Mr. Fields speak for himself:
"My name is John W. Fields and I'm eighty-nine (89) years old. I was
born March 27, 1848 in Owensburg, Ky. That's 115 miles below Louisville,
Ky. There was 11 other children besides myself in my family. When I was
six years old, all of us children were taken from my parents, because my
master died and his estate had to be settled. We slaves were divided by
this method. Three disinterested persons were chosen to come to the
plantation and together they wrote the names of the different heirs on a
few slips of paper. These slips were put in a hat and passed among us
slaves. Each one took a slip and the name on the slip was the new owner.
I happened to draw the name of a relative of my master who was a widow.
I can't describe the heartbreak and horror of that separation. I was
only six years old and it was the last time I ever saw my mother for
longer than one night. Twelve children taken from my mother in one day.
Five sisters and two brothers went to Charleston, Virginia, one brother
and one sister went to Lexington Ky., one sister went to Hartford, Ky.,
and one brother and myself stayed in Owensburg, Ky. My mother was later
allowed to visit among us children for one week of each year, so she
could only remain a short time at each place.
"My life prior to that time was filled with heart-aches and despair. We
arose from four to five O'clock in the morning and parents and children
were given hard work, lasting until nightfall gaves us our respite.
After a meager supper, we generally talked until we grew sleepy, we had
to go to bed. Some of us would read, if we were lucky enough to know
how.
"In most of us colored folks was the great desire to able to read and
write. We took advantage of every opportunity to educate ourselves. The
greater part of the plantation owners were very harsh if we were caught
trying to learn or write. It was the law that if a white man was caught
trying to educate a negro slave, he was liable to prosecution entailing
a fine of fifty dollars and a jail sentence. We were never allowed to go
to town and it was not until after I ran away that I knew that they sold
anything but slaves, tobacco and wiskey. Our ignorance was the greatest
hold the South had on us. We knew we could run away, but what then? An
offender guilty of this crime was subjected to very harsh punishment.
"When my masters estate had been settled, I was to go with the widowed
relative to her place, she swung me up on her horse behind her and
promised me all manner of sweet things if I would come peacefully. I
didn't fully realise what was happening, and before I knew it, I was on
my way to my new home. Upon arrival her manner changed very much, and
she took me down to where there was a bunch of men burning brush. She
said, "see those men" I said: yes. Well, go help them, she replied. So
at the age of six I started my life as an independent slave. From then
on my life as a slave was a repetition of hard work, poor quarters and
board. We had no beds at that time, we just "bunked" on the floor. I had
one blanket and manys the night I sat by the fireplace during the long
cold nights in the winter.
"My Mistress had separated me from all my family but one brother with
sweet words, but that pose was dropped after she reached her place.
Shortly after I had been there, she married a northern man by the name
of David Hill. At first he was very nice to us, but he gradually
acquired a mean and overbearing manner toward us, I remember one
incident that I don't like to remember. One of the women slaves had been
very sick and she was unable to work just as fast as he thought she
ought to. He had driven her all day with no results. That night after
completeing our work he called us all together. He made me hold a light,
while he whipped her and then made one of the slaves pour salt water on
her bleeding back. My innerds turn yet at that sight.
"At the beginning of the Civil War I was still at this place as a slave.
It looked at the first of the war as if the south would win, as most of
the big battles were won by the South. This was because we slaves stayed
at home and tended the farms and kept their families.
"To eliminate this solid support of the South, the Emancipation Act was
passed, freeing all slaves. Most of the slaves were so ignorant they did
not realize they were free. The planters knew this and as Kentucky never
seceeded from the Union, they would send slaves into Kentucky from other
states in the south and hire them out to plantations. For these reasons
I did not realize that I was free untill 1864. I immediately resolved to
run away and join the Union Army and so my brother and I went to
Owensburg, Ky. and tried to join. My brother was taken, but I was
refused as being too young. I [HW: tried] at Evansville, Terre Haute and
Indianapolis but was unable to get in. I then tried to find work and was
finally hired by a man at $7.00 a month. That was my first independent
job. From then on I went from one job to another working as general
laborer.
"I married at 24 years of age and had four children. My wife has been
dead for 12 years and 8 months. Mr. Miller, always remember that:
"The brightest man, the prettiest flower
May be cut down, and withered in an hour."
"Today, I am the only surviving member who helped organize the second
Baptist Church here in Lafayette, 64 years ago. I've tried to live
according to the way the Lord would wish, God Bless you."
"The clock of Life is wound but once.
Today is yours, tomorrow is not.
No one knows when the hands will stop."
Cecil Miller
Dist. #3
Tipp. Co. [TR: Tippecanoe Co.]
NEGRO FOLKLORE
MR. JOHN FIELDS, EX-SLAVE
2120 N. 20th St. Lafayette, Indiana
[Illustration: John W. Fields]
Mr. Fields says that all negro slaves were ardent believers in ghosts,
supernatual powers, tokens and "signs." The following story illustrates
the point.
"A turkey gobbler had mysteriously disappeared from one of the
neighboring plantations and the local slaves were accused of commeting
the fowl to a boiling pot. A slave convicted of theft was punished
severly. As all of the slaves denied any knowledge of the turkey's
whereabouts, they were instructed to make a search of the entire
plantation."
"On one part of the place there was a large peach orchard. At the time
the trees were full of the green fruit. Under one of the trees there was
a large cabinet or "safe" as they were called. One of the slaves
accidently opened the safe and, Behold, there was Mr. Gobbler peacefully
seated on a number of green peaches.
"The negro immediately ran back and notified his master of the
discovery. The master returned to the orchard with the slave to find
that the negro's wild tale was true. A turkey gobbler sitting on a nest
of green peaches. A bad omen.
"The master had a son who had been seriously injured some time before by
a runaway team, and a few days after this unusual occurence with the
turkey, the son died. After his death, the word of the turkey's nesting
venture and the death of the master's son spread to this four winds,
and for some time after this story was related wherever there was a
public gathering with the white people or the slave population."
All through the south a horseshoe was considered an omen of good luck.
Rare indeed was the southern home that did not have one nailed over the
door. This insured the household and all who entered of plesant
prospects while within the home. If while in the home you should perhaps
get into a violent argument, never hit the other party with a broom as
it was a sure indication of bad luck. If Grandad had the rheumatics, he
would be sure of relief if he carried a buckeye in his pocket.
Of all the Ten Commandments, the one broken most by the negro was: Thou
Shalt Not Steal This was due mostly to the insufficent food the slaves
obtained. Most of the planters expected a chicken to suddenly get
heavenly aspirations once in a while, but as Mr. Fields says, "When a
beautiful 250 pound hog suddenly tries to kidnap himself, the planter
decided to investigate." It occured like this:
A 250 pound hog had been fruitless. The planter was certain that the
culprit was among his group of slaves, so he decided to personally
conduct a quiet investigation.
One night shortly after the moon had risen in the sky, two of the
negroes were seated at a table in one of the cabins talking of the
experiences of the day. A knock sounded on the door. Both slaves jumped
up and cautiously peeked out of the window. Lo there was the master
patiently waiting for an answer. The visiting negro decided that the
master must not see both of them and he asked the other to conceal him
while the master was there. The other slave told him to climb into the
attic and be perfectly quiet. When this was done, the tenant of the
cabin answered the door.
The master strode in and gazed about the cabin. He then turned abruptly
to the slave and growled, 'Alright, where is that hog you stoled.'
'Massa, replied the negro, 'I know nothing about no hog. The master was
certain that the slave was lying and told him so in no uncertain terms.
The terrified slave said, 'Massa, I know nothing of any hog. I never
seed him. The Good Man up above knows I never seed him. HE knows every
thing and HE knows I didn't steal him; The man in the attic by this time
was aroused at the misunderstood conversation taking place below him.
Disregarding all, he raised his voice and yelled, 'He's a liar, Massa,
he knows just as much about it as I do.'
Most of the strictly negro folklore has faded into the past. The younger
negro generations who have been reared and educated in the north have
lost this bearing and assumed the lore of the local white population
through their daily contact with the whites. The older negro natives of
this section are for the most part employed as domestics and through
this channel rapidly assimilated the employers viewpoint in most of his
beliefs and conversations.
Ex-Slave Stories
District 5
Vanderburgh County
Lauana Creel
INDIANS MADE SLAVES AMONG THE NEGROES.
INTERVIEWS WITH GEORGE FORTMAN
Cor. Bellemeade Ave. and Garvin St.
Evansville, Indiana, and other interested citizens
"The story of my life, I will tell to you with sincerest respect to all
and love to many, although reviewing the dark trail of my childhood and
early youth causes me great pain." So spoke George Fortman, an aged man
and former slave, although the history of his life reveals that no Negro
blood runs through his veins.
"My story necessarily begins by relating events which occurred in 1838,
when hundreds of Indians were rounded up like cattle and driven away
from the valley of the Wabash. It is a well known fact recorded in the
histories of Indiana that the long journey from the beautiful Wabash
Valley was a horrible experience for the fleeing Indians, but I have the
tradition as relating to my own family, and from this enforced flight
ensued the tragedy of my birth."
The aged ex-slave reviews tradition. "My two ancestors, John Hawk, a
Blackhawk Indian brave, and Racheal, a Chackatau maiden had made
themselves a home such as only Indians know, understand and enjoy. He
was a hunter and a fighter but had professed faith in Christ through the
influence of the missionaries. My greatgrandmother passed the facts on
to her children and they have been handed down for four generations. I,
in turn, have given the traditions to my children and grandchildren.
"No more peaceful home had ever offered itself to the red man than the
beautiful valley of the Wabash river. Giant elms, sycamores and maple
trees bordered the stream while the fertile valley was traversed with
creeks and rills, furnishing water in abundance for use of the Indian
campers.
"The Indians and the white settlers in the valley transacted business
with each other and were friendly towards each other, as I have been
told by my mother, Eliza, and my grandmother, Courtney Hawk.
"The missionaries often called the Indian families together for the
purpose of teaching them and the Indians had been invited, prior to
being driven from the valley, to a sort of festival in the woods. They
had prepared much food for the occasion. The braves had gone on a long
hunt to provide meat and the squaws had prepared much corn and other
grain to be used at the feast. All the tribes had been invited to a
council and the poor people were happy, not knowing they were being
deceived.
"The decoy worked, for while the Indians were worshiping God the meeting
was rudely interrupted by orders of the Governor of the State. The
Governor, whose duty it was to give protection to the poor souls,
caused them to be taken captives and driven away at the point of swords
and guns.
"In vain, my grandmother said, the Indians prayed to be let return to
their homes. Instead of being given their liberty, some several hundred
horses and ponies were captured to be used in transporting the Indians
away from the valley. Many of the aged Indians and many innocent
children died on the long journey and traditional stories speak of that
journey as the 'trail of death.'"
"After long weeks of flight, when the homes of the Indians had been
reduced to ashes, the long trail still carried them away from their
beautiful valley. My greatgrandfather and his squaw became acquainted
with a party of Indians that were going to the canebrakes of Alabama.
The pilgrims were not well fed or well clothed and they were glad to
travel towards the south, believing the climate would be favorable to
their health.
"After a long and dreary journey, the Indians reached Alabama. Rachael
had her youngest papoose strapped on to her back while John had cared
for the larger child, Lucy. Sometimes she had walked beside her father
but often she had become weary or sleepy and he had carried her many
miles of the journey, besides the weight of blankets and food. An older
daughter, Courtney, also accompanied her parents.
"When they neared the cane lands they heard the songs of Negro slaves as
they toiled in the cane. Soon they were in sight of the slave quarters
of Patent George's plantation. The Negroes made the Indians welcome and
the slave dealer allowed them to occupy the cane house; thus the Indians
became slaves of Patent George.
"Worn out from his long journey John Hawk became too ill to work in the
sugar cane. The kindly-disposed Negroes helped care for the sick man but
he lived only a few months. Rachel and her two children remained on the
plantation, working with the other slaves. She had nowhere to go. No
home to call her own. She had automatically become a slave. Her
children had become chattel.
"So passed a year away, then unhappiness came to the Indian mother, for
her daughter, Courtney, became the mother of young Master Ford George's
child. The parents called the little half-breed "Eliza" and were very
fond of her. The widow of John Hawk became the mother of Patent George's
son, Patent Junior.
"The tradition of the family states that in spite of these irregular
occurrences the people at the George's southern plantation were
prosperous, happy, and lived in peace each with the others. Patent
George wearied of the Southern climate and brought his slaves into
Kentucky where their ability and strength would amass a fortune for the
master in the iron ore regions of Kentucky.
"With the wagon trains of Patent and Ford George came Rachel Hawk and
her daughters, Courtney, Lucy and Rachel. Rachel died on the journey
from Alabama but the remaining full blooded Indians entered Kentucky as
slaves.
"The slave men soon became skilled workers in the Hillman Rolling Mills.
Mr. Trigg was owner of the vast iron works called the "Chimneys" in the
region, but listed as the Hillman, Dixon, Boyer, Kelley and Lyons
Furnaces. For more than a half century these chimneys smoked as the most
valuable development in the western area of Kentucky. Operated in 1810,
these furnaces had refined iron ore to supply the United States Navy
with cannon balls and grape shot, and the iron smelting industry
continued until after the close of the Civil War.
"No slaves were beaten at the George's plantation and old Mistress
Hester Lam allowed no slave to be sold. She was a devoted friend to all.
"As Eliza George, daughter of Ford George and Courtney Hawk, grew into
young womanhood the young master Ford George went oftener and oftener to
social functions. He was admired for his skill with firearms and for
his horsemanship. While Courtney and his child remained at the
plantation Ford enjoyed the companship of the beautiful women of the
vicinity. At last he brought home the beautiful Loraine, his young
bride. Courtney was stoical as only an Indian can be. She showed no hurt
but helped Mistress Hester and Mistress Loraine with the house work."
Here George Fortman paused to let his blinded eyes look back into the
long ago. Then he again continued with his story of the dark trail.
"Mistress Loraine became mother of two sons and a daughter and the big
white two-story house facing the Cumberland River at Smith Landing,
Kentucky, became a place of laughter and happy occasions, so my mother
told me many times.
"Suddenly sorrow settled down over the home and the laughter turned into
wailing, for Ford George's body was found pierced through the heart and
the half-breed, Eliza, was nowhere to be found.
"The young master's body lay in state many days. Friends and neighbors
came bringing flowers. His mother, bowed with grief, looked on the still
face of her son and understood--understood why death had come and why
Eliza had gone away.
"The beautiful home on the Cumberland river with its more than 600 acres
of productive land was put into the hands of an administrator of estates
to be readjusted in the interest of the George heirs. It was only then
Mistress Hester went to Aunt Lucy and demanded of her to tell where
Eliza could be found.
'She has gone to Alabama, Ole Mistus', said Aunt Lucy, 'Eliza was scared
to stay here.' A party of searchers were sent out to look for Eliza.
They found her secreted in a cane brake in the low lands of Alabama
nursing her baby boy at her breast. They took Eliza and the baby back to
Kentucky. I am that baby, that child of unsatisfactory birth."
The face of George Fortman registered sorrow and pain, it had been hard
for him to retell the story of the dark road to strange ears.
"My white uncles had told Mistress Hester that if Eliza brought me back
they were going to build a fire and put me in it, my birth was so
unsatisfactory to all of them, but Mistress Hester always did what she
believed was right and I was brought up by my own mother.
"We lived in a cabin at the slave quarters and mother worked in the
broom cane. Mistress Hester named me Ford George, in derision, but
remained my friend. She was never angry with my mother. She knew a slave
had to submit to her master and besides Eliza did not know she was
Master Ford George's daughter."
The truth had been told at last. The master was both the father of Eliza
and the father of Eliza's son.
"Mistress Hester believed I would be feeble either in mind or body
because of my unsatisfactory birth, but I developed as other children
did and was well treated by Mistress Hester, Mistress Lorainne and her
children.
"Master Patent George died and Mistress Hester married Mr. Lam, while
slaves kept working at the rolling mills and amassing greater wealth for
the George families.
"Five years before the outbreak of the Civil War Mistress Hester called
all the slaves together and gave us our freedom. Courtney, my
grandmother, kept house for Mistress Lorainne and wanted to stay on, so
I too was kept at the George home. There was a sincere friendship as
great as the tie of blood between the white family and the slaves. My
mother married a negro ex-slave of Ford George and bore children for
him. Her health failed and when Mistress Puss, the only daughter of
Mistress Lorainne, learned she was ill she persuaded the Negro man to
sell his property and bring Eliza back to live with her."
[TR: in following section the name George 'Fordman' is used twice.]
"Why are you called George Fordman when your name is Ford George?" was
the question asked the old man.
"Then the Freedsmen started teaching school in Kentucky the census taker
called to enlist me as a pupil. 'What do you call this child?' he asked
Mistress Lorainne. 'We call him the Little Captain because he carried
himself like a soldier,' said Mistress Lorainne. 'He is the son of my
husband and a slave woman but we are rearing him.' Mistress Lorainne
told the stranger that I had been named Ford George in derision and he
suggested she list me in the census as George Fordsman, which she did,
but she never allowed me to attend the Freedmen's School, desiring to
keep me with her own children and let me be taught at home. My mother's
half brother, Patent George allowed his name to be reversed to George
Patent when he enlisted in the Union Service at the outbreak of the
Civil War."
Some customs prevalent in the earlier days were described by George
Fordman. "It was customary to conduct a funeral differently than it is
conducted now," he said. "I remember I was only six years old when old
Mistress Hester Lam passed on to her eternal rest. She was kept out of
her grave several days in order to allow time for the relatives, friends
and ex-slaves to be notified of her death.
"The house and yard were full of grieving friends. Finally the lengthy
procession started to the graveyard. Within the George's parlors there
had been Bible passages read, prayers offered up and hymns sung, now the
casket was placed in a wagon drawn by two horses. The casket was covered
with flowers while the family and friends rode in ox carts, horse-drawn
wagons, horseback, and with still many on foot they made their way
towards the river.
"When we reached the river there were many canoes busy putting the
people across, besides the ferry boat was in use to ferry vehicles over
the stream. The ex-slaves were crying and praying and telling how good
granny had been to all of them and explaining how they knew she had gone
straight to Heaven, because she was so kind--and a Christian. There were
not nearly enough boats to take the crowd across if they crossed back
and forth all day, so my mother, Eliza, improvised a boat or 'gunnel',
as the craft was called, by placing a wooden soap box on top of a long
pole, then she pulled off her shoes and, taking two of us small children
in her arms, she paddled with her feet and put us safely across the
stream. We crossed directly above Iaka, Livingston county, three miles
below Grand River.
"At the burying ground a great crowd had assembled from the neighborhood
across the river and there were more songs and prayers and much weeping.
The casket was let down into the grave without the lid being put on and
everybody walked up and looked into the grave at the face of the dead
woman. They called it the 'last look' and everybody dropped flowers on
Mistress Hester as they passed by. A man then went down and nailed on
the lid and the earth was thrown in with shovels. The ex-slaves filled
in the grave, taking turns with the shovel. Some of the men had worked
at the smelting furnaces so long that their hands were twisted and
hardened from contact with the heat. Their shoulders were warped and
their bodies twisted but they were strong as iron men from their years
of toil. When the funeral was over mother put us across the river on the
gunnel and we went home, all missing Mistress Hester.
"My cousin worked at Princeton, Kentucky, making shoes. He had never
been notified that he was free by the kind emancipation Mrs. Hester had
given to her slaves, and he came loaded with money to give to his white
folks. Mistress Lorainne told him it was his own money to keep or to
use, as he had been a free man several months.
"As our people, white and black and Indians, sat talking they related
how they had been warned of approaching trouble. Jack said the dogs had
been howling around the place for many nights and that always presaged a
death in the family. Jack had been compelled to take off his shoes and
turn them soles up near the hearth to prevent the howling of the dogs.
Uncle Robert told how he believed some of Mistress Hester's enemies had
planted a shrub near her door and planted it with a curse so that when
the shrub bloomed the old woman passed away. Then another man told how a
friend had been seen carrying a spade into his cousin's cabin and the
cousin had said, 'Daniel, what foh you brung that weapon into by [TR:
my?] cabin? That very spade will dig my grave,' and sure enough the
cousin had died and the same spade had been used in digging his grave.
"How my childish nature quailed at hearing the superstitions discussed,
I cannot explain. I have never believed in witchcraft nor spells, but I
remember my Indian grandmother predicted a long, cold winter when she
noticed the pelts of the coons and other furred creatures were
exceedingly heavy. When the breastbones of the fowls were strong and
hard to sever with the knife it was a sign of a hard, cold and snowy
winter. Another superstition was this: 'A green winter, a new
graveyard--a white winter, a green graveyard.'"
George Fortman relates how, when he accompanied two of his cousins into
the lowlands--there were very many Katy-dids in the trees--their voices
formed a nerve-racking orchestra and his cousin told him to tiptoe to
the trees and touch each tree with the tips of his fingers. This he did,
and for the rest of the day there was quiet in the forest.
"More than any other superstition entertained by the slave Negroes, the
most harmful was the belief on conjurors. One old Negro woman boiled a
bunch of leaves in an iron pot, boiled it with a curse and scattered the
tea therein brewed, and firmly believed she was bringing destruction to
her enemies. 'Wherever that tea is poured there will be toil and
troubles,' said the old woman.
"The religion of many slaves was mostly superstition. They feared to
break the Sabbath, feared to violate any of the Commandments, believing
that the wrath of God would follow immediately, blasting their lives.
"Things changed at the George homestead as they change everywhere," said
George Fortman. "When the Civil War broke out many slaves enlisted in
hopes of receiving freedom. The George Negroes were already free but
many thought it their duty to enlist and fight for the emancipation of
their fellow slaves. My mother took her family and moved away from the
plantation and worked in the broom cane. Soon she discovered she could
not make enough to rear her children and we were turned over to the
court to be bound out.
"I was bound out to David Varnell in Livingston County by order of Judge
Busch and I stayed there until I was fifteen years of age. My sister
learned that I was unhappy there and wanted to see my mother, so she
influenced James Wilson to take me into his home. Soon goodhearted Jimmy
Wilson took me to see Mother and I went often to see her."
Sometimes George would become stubborn and hard to control and then Mr.
Wilson administered chastisement. His wife could not bear to have the
boy punished. 'Don't hit him, Jimmie, don't kick him,' would say the
good Scotch woman, who was childless. 'If he does not obey me I will
whip him,' James Wilson would answer. So the boy learned the lesson of
obedience from the old couple and learned many lessons in thrift through
their examples.
"In 1883 I left the Wilson home and began working and trying to save
some money. River trade was prosperous and I became a 'Roustabout'. The
life of the roustabout varied some with the habits of the roustabout and
the disposition of the mate. We played cards, shot dice and talked to
the girls who always met the boats. The 'Whistling Coon' was a popular
song with the boatmen and one version of 'Dixie Land'. One song we often
sang when near a port was worded 'Hear the trumpet Sound'--
Hear the trumpet sound,
Stand up and don't sit down,
Keep steppin' 'round and 'round,
Come jine this elegant band.
If you don't step up and jine the bout,
Old Missus sure will fine it out,
She'll chop you in the head wid a golen ax,
You never will have to pay da tax,
Come jine the roust-a-bout band."
From roust-a-bout George became a cabin boy, cook, pilot, and held a
number of positions on boats, plowing different streams. There was much
wild game to be had and the hunting season was always open. He also
remembers many wolves, wild turkeys, catamounts and deer in abundance
near the Grand River. "Pet deer loafed around the milking pens and ate
the feed from the mangers" said he.
George Fortman is a professor of faith in Christ. He was baptized in
Concord Lake, seven miles from Clarksville, Tennessee, became a member
of the Pleasant Greene Church at Callwell, Kentucky and later a member
of the Liberty Baptist Church at Evansville.
"I have always kept in touch with my white folks, the George family,"
said the man, now feeble and blind. "Four years ago Mistress Puss died
and I was sent for but was not well enough to make the trip home."
Too young to fight in the Civil War, George was among those who watched
the work go on. "I lived at Smiths Landing and remember the battle at
Fort Donnelson. It was twelve miles away and a long cinder walk reached
from the fort for nearly thirty miles. The cinders were brought from the
iron ore mills and my mother and I have walked the length of it many
times." Still reviewing the long, dark trail he continued. "Boatloads of
soldiers passed Smith's Landing by day and night and the reports of
cannon could be heard when battles were fought. We children collected
Munnie balls near the fort for a long time after the war."
Although the George family never sold slaves or separated Negro
families, George Fortman has seen many boats loaded with slaves on the
way to slave marts. Some of the George Negroes were employed as pilots
on the boats. He also remembers slave sales where Negroes were auctioned
by auctioneers, the Negroes stripped of clothes to exhibit their
physique.
"I have always been befriended by three races of people, the Caucassian,
the African, and the Negro," declares George Fortman. "I have worked as
a farmer, a river man, and been employed by the Illinois Central
Railroad Company and in every position I have held I have made loyal
friends of my fellow workmen." One friend, treasured in the memory of
the aged ex-slave is Ollie James, who once defended George in court.
George Fortman has friends at Dauson Springs, Grayson Springs, and other
Kentucky resorts. He has been a citizen of Evansville for thirty-five
years and has had business connections here for sixty-two years. He
janitored for eleven years for the Lockyear Business College, but his
days of usefulness are over. He now occupies a room at Bellemeade Ave.
and Garvin St. and his only exercise consists of a stroll over to the
Lincoln High School. There he enjoys listening to the voices of the
pupils as they play about the campus. "They are free", he rejoices.
"They can build their own destinies, they did not arrive in this life by
births of unsatisfactory circumstances. They have the world before them
and my grandsons and granddaughters are among them."
Federal Writers' Project
of the W.P.A.
District #6
Marion County
Anna Pritchett
1200 Kentucky Avenue
FOLKLORE
JOHN HENRY GIBSON--EX-SLAVE
Colton Street
John Henry Gibson was born a slave, many years ago, in Scott County,
N.C.
His old master, John Henry Bidding, was a wealthy farmer; he also owned
the hotel, or rooming house.
When court was in session the "higher ups" would come to this house, and
stay until the court affairs were settled.
Mr. Bidding, who was very kind to his slaves, died when John Gibson was
very young. All slaves and other property passed on to the son, Joseph
Bidding, who in turn was as kind as his father had been.
Gibson's father belonged to General Lee Gibson, who was a neighboring
farmer. He saw and met Miss Elizabeth Bidding's maid; they liked each
other so very much, Miss Elizabeth bought him from General Gibson, and
let him have her maid as his wife. The wife lived only a short time,
leaving a little boy.
After the Civil war, a white man, by the name of Luster, was comming to
Ohio, brought John Gibson with him. They came to Indianapolis, and
Gibson liked it so well, he decided to remain; Mr. Luster told him if he
ever became dissatisfied to come on to Ohio to him, but he remained in
Indianapolis until 1872, then went back south, married, came back, and
made Indianapolis his home.