Folklore
Washington County, District Three
SARAH WOODS BURKE
Aged 85
"Yessir, I guess you all would call me an ex-slave cause I was born in
Grayson County, West Virginia and on a plantation I lived for quite a
spell, that is until when I was seven years old when we all moved up
here to Washington county."
"My Pappy's old Mammy was supposed to have been sold into slavery when
my Pappy was one month old and some poor white people took him ter
raise. We worked for them until he was a growed up man, also 'til they
give him his free papers and 'lowed him to leave the plantation and come
up here to the North."
"How did we live on the plantation? Well--you see it was like this we
lived in a log cabin with the ground for floors and the beds were built
against the walls jus' like bunks. I 'member that the slaves had a hard
time getting food, most times they got just what was left over or
whatever the slaveholder wanted to give them so at night they would slip
outa their cabins on to the plantation and kill a pig, a sheep or some
cattle which they would butcher in the woods and cut up. The wimmin
folks would carry the pieces back to the cabins in their aprons while
the men would stay behind and bury the head, skin and feet."
"Whenever they killed a pig they would have to skin it, because they
didn't dare to build a fire. The women folk after getting home would put
the meat in special dug trenches and the men would come erlong and cover
it up."
"The slave holders in the port of the country I came from was men and it
was quite offen that slaves were tied to a whipping stake and whipped
with a blacksnake until the blood ran down their bodies."
"I remembers quite clearly one scene that happened jus' afore I left
that there part of the country. At the slaveholders home on the
plantation I was at it was customary for the white folks to go to church
on Sunday morning and to leave the cook in charge. This cook had a habit
of making cookies and handing them out to the slaves before the folks
returned. Now it happened that on one Sunday for some reason or tother
the white folks returned before the regular time and the poor cook did
not have time to get the cookies to the slaves so she just hid then in a
drawer that was in a sewing chair."
"The white folks had a parrot that always sat on top of a door in this
room and when the mistress came in the room the mean old bird hollered
out at the top of his voice, 'Its in the rocker. It's in the rocker'.
Well the Missus found the cookies and told her husband where upon the
husband called his man that done the whipping and they tied the poor
cook to the stake and whipped her till she fainted. Next morning the
parrot was found dead and a slave was accused because he liked the woman
that had been whipped the day before. They whipped him than until the
blood ran down his legs."
"Spirits? Yessir I believe in them, but we warnt bothered so much by
them in them days but we was by the wild animals. Why after it got dark
we children would have to stay indoors for fear of them. The men folks
would build a big fire and I can remember my Pappy a settin on top of
the house at night with a old flint lock across his legs awaiting for
one of them critters to come close enough so he could shoot it. The
reason for him being trusted with a gun was because he had been raised
by the poor white man who worked for the slaveholder. My Pappy did not
work in the fields but drove a team of horses."
"I remembers that when we left the plantation and come to Washington
County, Ohio that we traveled in a covered wagon that had big white
horse hitched to it. The man that owned the horse was Blake Randolls. He
crossed the river 12 miles below Parkersberg. W. Va. on a ferry and went
to Stafford, Ohio, in Monroe County where we lived until I was married
at the age of 15 to Mr. Burke, by the Justice of the Peace, Edward
Oakley. A year later we moved to Curtis Ridge which is seven miles from
Stafford and we lived their for say 20 year or more. We moved to Rainbow
for a spell and then in 1918 my husband died. The old man hard luck came
around cause three years my home burned to the ground and then I came
here to live with my boy Joe and his family."
"Mr. Burke and myself raised a family of 16 chilluns and at that time my
husband worked at farming for other people at $2.00 a month and a few
things they would give him."
"My Pappy got his education from the boy of the white man he lived with
because he wasn't allowed to go to school and the white boy was very
smart and taught him just as he learned. My Pappy, fought in the Civil
War too. On which side? Well, sho nuff on the site of the North, boy."
Hallie Miller, Reporter
Audrey Meighen, Author-Editor
Folklore: Ex-slaves
Gellia County, District 3
JAMES CAMPBELL
Age 86
[Illustration: James Campbell]
"Well, I'se bo'n Monro' County, West Virginia, on January 15, 1852, jes'
few miles from Union, West Virginia."
"My mammy wuz Dinnah Alexander Campbell an' my pappy wuz Levi Campbell
an' dey bof cum frum Monro' County. Dat's 'bout only place I heerd dem
speak 'bout."
"Der wuz Levi, Floyd, Henry, Noah, an' Nancy, jes' my haf brudders an'
sistahs, but I neber knowed no diffrunce but whut dey wuz my sistahs an'
brudders."
"Where we liv? On Marsa John Alexander's farm, he wuz a good Marsa too.
All Marsa John want wuz plenty wurk dun and we dun it too, so der wuz no
trubble on ouah plantashun. I neber reclec' anyone gittin' whipped or
bad treatment frum him. I does 'members, dat sum de neighbers say dey
wuz treated prutty mean, but I don't 'member much 'bout it 'caise I'se
leetle den."
"Wher'd I sleep? I neber fergit dat trun'l bed, dat I sleep in.
"Marsa John's place kinda stock farm an' I dun de milkin'. You all know
dat wuz easy like so I jes' keep busy milkin' an' gits out de hard work.
Nudder thing I lik to do wuz pick berries, dat wuz easy too, so I dun my
shar' pickin'."
"Money? Lawsy chile, I neber dun seen eny money 'til aftah I dun cum to
Gallipolis aftah der war. An' how I lik' to heah it jingle, if I jes'
had two cents, I'd make it jingle."
"We all had plenty an' good things to eat, beans, corn, tatahs, melons
an' hot mush, corn bread; we jes' seen white flour wunce in a while."
"Yes mam, we had rabbit, wil' turkey, pheasunts, an' fish, say I'se
tellin' you-all dat riful pappy had shure cud kill de game."
"Nudder good ole time wuz maple sugar makin' time, mostly dun at night
by limestone burnin'. Yes, I heped with the 'lasses an' all de time I
wuz a thinkin' 'bout dem hot biscets, ham meat, corn bread an' 'lasses."
"We liv in a cabin on Marse John's place. Der wuzn't much in de cabin
but my mammy kept it mighty clean. Say, I kin see dat ole' fiah place
wid de big logs a burnin' right now; uh, an' smell dat good cookin', all
dun in iron pots an' skillets. An' all de cookin' an' heatin' wuz dun by
wood, why I nebber seed a lump o' coal all time I wuz der. We all had to
cut so much wood an' pile it up two weeks 'for Christmas, an' den when
ouah pile wuz cut, den ouah wurk wuz dun, so we'd jes' hav good time."
"We all woah jeans clos', jes pants an' jacket. In de summah we chilluns
all went barefoot, but in de wintah we all woah shoes."
"Ol' Marse John an' his family liv in a big fine brick hous'. Marse John
had des chilluns, Miss Betty an' Miss Ann an' der wuz Marse Mike an'
Marse John. Marse John, he wuz sorta spiled lik. He dun wen to de war
an' runs 'way frum Harpers Ferry an' cum home jes' sceered to death. He
get himsef a pah o' crutches an' neber goes back. Marse John dun used
dem crutches 'til aftah de war wuz ovah. Den der wuz ol' Missy
Kimberton--de gran'muthah. She wuz 'culiar but prutty good, so wuz
Marse's chilluns."
"Ol' Marse John had bout 20 slaves so de wurk wuzn't so bad on nun ob
us. I kin jes' see dem ol' bindahs and harrows now, dat dey used den. It
would shure look funny usin' 'em now."
"I all'us got up foah clock in de mornin' to git in de cows an' I didn't
hurry nun, 'caise dat tak in de time."
"Ouah mammy neber 'lowed de old folks to tell us chilluns sceery stories
o' hants an' sich lik' so der's nun foah me to 'member."
"Travelin' wuz rather slo' lik. De only way wuz in ox-carts or on hoss
back. We all didn't hay much time fer travelin'. Our Marse wuz too good
to think 'bout runnin' 'way."
"Nun my fam'ly cud read er write. I lurned to read an write aftah I cum
up Norf to Ohio. Dat wuz biggest thing I ebber tackled, but it made me
de happies' aftah I learn't."
"We all went to Sunday School an' meetin'. Yes mam, we had to wurk on
Sundays, too, if we did hav any spare time, we went visit in'. On
Saturday nights we had big time foah der wuz mos' all'us dancin' an'
we'd dance long as de can'les lasted. Can'les wuz all we had any time
fur light."
"I 'member one de neighbah boys tried to run 'way an' de patrollahs got
'im an' fetched 'im back an' he shure dun got a wallopin' fer it. Dat
dun tuk any sich notion out my head. Dem patrollahs dun keep us skeered
to deaf all de time. One, Henry Jones, runned off and went cleah up Norf
sum place an' dey neber did git 'im. 'Course we all wuz shure powahful
glad 'bout his 'scapin'."
"We'se neber 'lowed out de cabin at night. But sum times de oldah 'uns
wud sneak out at night an'tak de hosses an' tak a leetle ride. An' man
it wud bin jes' too bad if ol' Marse John ketched 'em: dat wuz shure
heaps o' fun fer de kids. I 'member hearin' wunce de ol' folks talkin'
'bout de way one Marse dun sum black boys dat dun sumthin' wrong. He
jes' mak 'em bite off de heads o' baccer wurms; mysef I'd ruther tuk a
lickin."
"On Christmus Day, we'd git fiah crackahs an' drink brandy, dat wuz all.
Dat day wuz only one we didn't wurk. On Saturday evenin's we'd mold
candles, dat wuzn't so bad."
"De happies' time o' my life wuz when Cap'n Tipton, a Yankee soljer
cumed an' tol' us de wah wuz ober an' we wuz free. Cap'n. Tipton sez,
"Youse de boys we dun dis foah". We shure didn't lose no time gittin'
'way; no man."
"We went to Lewisburg an' den up to Cha'leston by wagon an' den tuk de
guvment boat, _Genrul Crooks_, an' it brung us heah to Gallipolis in
1865. Dat Ohio shoah shure looked prutty."
"I'se shure thankful to Mr. Lincoln foah whut he dun foah us folks, but
dat Jeff Davis, well I ain't sayin' whut I'se thinkin'."
"De is jes' like de worl', der is lots o' good an' lots o' bad in it."
WPA in Ohio
Federal Writers' Project
Topic: Ex-Slavery
Jefferson Co, District #2
FLEMING CLARK
Ex-Slave, 74+ in years
My father's name wuz Fleming Clark and my mother's name wuz Emmaline
Clark. Both of dem wuz in slavery. Der massa's name wuz David Bowers. I
don't know where dey cum from but dey moved to Bad Creek after slavery
days.
Der wuz three of us chillun. Charles, de oldest, den Anthony next and
den me, de youngest. I wuz workin' for a white man and wuz old enough to
drive cows and work in de 'bacco fields, pickin' worms off de leaves. De
other brudders worked wid my father on another plantation. De house
where I lived wid de white Massa Lewis Northsinge and his Missus, wuz a
log house wid just two rooms. I had just a little straw tick and a cot
dat de massa made himself and I hed a common quilt dat de missus made to
cover me.
I hear dat my grandmother died during slavery and dat my grandfather wuz
killed by his massa during slavery.
On Sunday I would go home and stay wid my father and mother and two
brothers. We would play around wid ball and marbles. We had no school or
church. We were too far away for church.
I earned no money. All I got wus just my food and clothes. I wuz leasted
out to my massa and missus. I ate corn bread, fat hog meat and drank
butter milk. Sometimes my father would catch possum and my mother would
cook them, and bring me over a piece. I used to eat rabbit and fish. Dey
used to go fishin' in de creek. I liked rabbit and groundhog. De food
wuz boiled and roasted in de oven. De slaves have a little patch for a
garden and day work it mostly at night when it wuz moonlight.
We wore geans and shirts of yellow cotton, we wore no shoes up til
Christmas. I wore just de same during de summer except a little coat. We
had no under shirt lik we have now. We wore de same on Sunday. Der wuz
no Sunday suit.
De mass and missus hed one boy. De boy wuz much older than I. Dey were
all kind to me. I remember plenty poor white chillun. I remember Will
and John Nathan. Dey were poor white people.
My massa had three plantations. He had five slaves on one and four on
another. I worked on one with four slaves. My father worked on one wid
my brother and mother. We would wake up at 4 and 5 o'clock and do chores
in de barn by lamp light. De overseer would ring a bell in de yeard, if
it wuz not too cold to go out. If it wuz too cold he would cum and knock
on de door. It wuz 8 or 9 o'clock fore we cum in at night. Den we have
to milk de cows to fore we have supper.
De slaves were punished fore cumin' in too soon and unhitching de
horses. Dey would bend dem accross a barrel and switch dem and den send
dem back to de fields.
I head dem say dey switch de blood out of dem and salt de wound den dey
could not work de next day.
I saw slaves sold. Dey would stand on a block and men would bid for dem.
De highest bidder bought de slaves. I saw dem travel in groups, not
chained, one white man in front and one in back. Dey looked like cattle.
De white folks never learned me to read or write.
Der were petrollers. Dey were mean if dey catch you out late at night.
If a slave wus out late at night he had to have a notice from his massa.
Der wuz trouble if de slaves were out late at night or if dey run off to
another man.
De slaves worked on Saturday afternoons. Dey stay in de cabins on
Saturday nights and Sundays. We worked on New Years day. De massa would
give us a little hard cider on Christmas day. Dey would give a big
supper at corn huskin' or cotton pickin' and give a little play or
somethin' lik dat.
I remember two weddings. Dey hed chicken, and mutton to eat and corn
bread. Dey all ganged round de table. Der wur milk and butter. I
remember one wedding of de white people. I made de ice cream for dem. I
remember playin' marbles and ball.
Sometimes a racer snake would run after us, wrap round us and whip us
with its tail. The first one I remember got after me in de orchard. He
wrapped right round me and whipped me with his tail.
My mother took care of de slaves when dey were sick. You had to be awful
sick if dey didn't make you go out. Dey made der own medicine in those
days. We used asafetida and put a piece in a bag and hung it round our
necks. It wuz supposed to keep us from ketchin' diseases from anyone
else.
When freedom cum dey were all shoutin' and I run to my mother and asked
her what it wuz all bout. De white man said you are all free and can go.
I remember the Yankee soldier comin' through the wheat field.
My parents lived very light de first year after de war. We lived in a
log cabin. De white man helped dem a little. My father went to work
makin' charcoal. Der wuz no school for Negroes and no land that I
remember.
I married Alice Thompson. She wuz 16 and I wuz 26. We hed a little
weddin' down in Bushannon, Virginny. A Baptist preacher named Shirley
married us. Der were bout a dozen at de weddin'. We hed a little dancin'
and banjo play in'. I hed two chillun but dey died and my wife died a
long, long time ago.
I just heard a little bout Abraham Lincoln. I believe he wuz a good man.
I just hed a slight remembrance of Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis.
I have heard of Booker T. Washington, felt just de same bout him. A
pretty good man.
I think it wuz a great thing that slavery anded, I would not lik to see
it now.
I joined de Baptist church but I have been runnin' round from place to
place. We always prosper and get along with our fellowmen if we are
religious.
De overseer wuz poor white trash. His rules were you hed to be out on de
plantation before daylight. Sometimes we hed to sit around on de fence
to wait for daylight and we did not go in before dark. We go in bout one
for meals.
K. Osthimer, Author
Aug 12, 1937
Folklore: Stories from Ex-Slaves
Lucas County, District Nine
Toledo, Ohio
The Story of MRS. HANNAH DAVIDSON.
Mrs. Hannah Davidson occupies two rooms in a home at 533 Woodland
Avenue, Toledo, Ohio. Born on a plantation in Ballard County, Kentucky,
in 1852, she is today a little, white-haired old lady. Dark, flashing
eyes peer through her spectacles. Always quick to learn, she has taught
herself to read. She says, "I could always spell almost everything." She
has eagerly sought education. Much of her ability to read has been
gained from attendance in recent years in WPA "opportunity classes" in
the city. Today, this warm-hearted, quiet little Negro woman ekes out a
bare existence on an old age pension of $23.00 a month. It is with
regret that she recalls the shadows and sufferings of the past. She
says, "It is best not to talk about them. The things that my sister May
and I suffered were so terrible that people would not believe them. It
is best not to have such things in our memory."
"My father and mother were Isaac and Nancy Meriwether," she stated. "All
the slaves went under the name of my master and mistress, Emmett and
Susan Meriwether. I had four sisters and two brothers. There was
Adeline, Dorah, Alice, and Lizzie. My brothers were Major and George
Meriwether. We lived in a log cabin made of sticks and dirt, you know,
logs and dirt stuck in the cracks. We slept on beds made of boards
nailed up.
"I don't remember anything about my grandparents. My folks were sold
around and I couldn't keep track of them.
"The first work I did out from home was with my mistress's brother, Dr.
Jim Taylor, in Kentucky, taking care of his children. I was an awful
tiny little somethin' about eight or nine years old. I used to turn the
reel for the old folks who was spinning. That's all I've ever
known--work.
"I never got a penny. My master kept me and my sister Mary twenty-two
long years after we were supposed to be free. Work, work, work. I don't
think my sister and I ever went to bed before twelve o'clock at night.
We never got a penny. They could have spared it, too; they had enough.
"We ate corn bread and fat meat. Meat and bread, we kids called it. We
all had a pint tin cup of buttermilk. No slaves had their own gardens.
"The men just wore jeans. The slaves all made their own clothes. They
just wove all the time; the old women wove all the time. I wasn't old
enough to go in the field like the oldest children. The oldest
children--they _worked_. After slavery ended, my sister Mary and me
worked as ex-slaves, and we _worked_. Most of the slaves had shoes, but
us kids used to run around barefoot most of the time.
"My folks, my master and mistress, lived in a great, white, frame house,
just the same as a hotel. I grew up with the youngest child, Mayo. The
other white children grew up and worked as overseers. Mayo always wanted
me to call him 'Master Mayo'. I fought him all the time. I never would
call him 'Master Mayo'. My mistress wouldn't let anyone harm me and she
made Mayo behave.
"My master wouldn't let the poor white neighbors--no one--tell us we was
free. The plantation was many, many acres, hundreds and hundreds of
acres, honey. There were about twenty-five or thirty families of slaves.
They got up and stood until daylight, waiting to plow. Yes, child, they
was up _early_. Our folks don't know how we had to work. I don't like to
tell you how we were treated--how we had to _work_. It's best to brush
those things out of our memory.
"If you wanted to go to another plantation, you had to have a pass. If
my folks was going to somebody's house, they'd have to have a pass.
Otherwise they'd be whipped. They'd take a big man and tie his hands
behind a tree, just like that big tree outside, and whip him with a
rawhide and draw blood every whip. I know I was scared every time I'd
hear the slave say, 'Pray, Master.'
"Once, when I was milking a cow, I asked Master Ousley, 'Master Ousley,
will you do me a favor?'
"He said in his drawl, 'Of course I will.'
"'Take me to McCracken County,' I said. I didn't even know where
McCracken County was, but my sister was there. I wanted to find my
sister. When I reached the house where my sister stayed, I went through
the gate. I asked if this was the house where Mary Meriwether lived. Her
mistress said, 'Yes, she's in the back. Are you the girl Mr.
Meriwether's looking for?" My heart was in my mouth. It just seemed I
couldn't go through the gate. I never even saw my sister that time. I
hid for a while and then went back.
"We didn't have any churches. My master would come down Sunday morning
with just enough flour to make bread. Coffee, too. Their coffee was
parts of meal, corn and so on. Work all week and that's what they had
for coffee.
"We used to sing, 'Swing low, sweet chariot'. When our folks sang that,
we could really see the chariot.
"Once, Jim Ferguson, a colored man, came to teach school. The white
folks beat and whipped him and drove him away in his underwear.
"I wanted so hard to learn to read, but I didn't even know I was free,
even when slavery was ended.
"I been so exhausted working, I was like an inch-worm crawling along a
roof. I worked till I thought another lick would kill me. If you had
something to do, you did it or got whipped. Once I was so tired I
couldn't work any more. I crawled in a hole under the house and stayed
there till I was rested. I didn't get whipped, either.
"I never will forget it--how my master always used to say, 'Keep a
nigger down' I never will forget it. I used to wait on table and I heard
them talk.
"The only fun we had was on Sunday evening, after work. That was the
only chance we got. We used to go away off from the house and play in
the haystack.
"Our folks was so cruel, the slaves used to whisper 'round. Some of them
knew they was free, even if the white folks didn't want 'em to find out
they was free. They went off in the woods sometimes. But I was just a
little kid and I wasn't allowed to go around the big folks.
"I seen enough what the old folks went through. My sister and I went
through enough after slavery was over. For twenty-one long years we were
enslaved, even after we were supposed to be free. We didn't even know we
were free. We had to wash the white people's feet when they took their
shoes off at night--the men and women.
"Sundays the slaves would wash out their clothes. It was the only time
they had to themselves. Some of the old men worked in their tobacco
patches. We never observed Christmas. We never had no holidays, son,
_no, sir_! We didn't know what the word was.
"I never saw any slave funerals. Some slaves died, but I never saw any
of them buried. I didn't see any funerals at all.
"The white folks would come down to the cabins to marry the slaves. The
master or mistress would read a little out of a book. That's all there
was to it.
"We used to play a game called 'Hulgul'. We'd play it in the cabins and
sometimes with the white children. We'd hold hazelnuts in our hands. I'd
say 'Hulgul' How many? You'd guess. If you hit it right, you'd get them
all and it would be your turn to say 'Hulgul'. If you'd say 'Three!' and
I only had two, you'd have to give me another to make three.
"The kids nowadays can go right to the store and buy a ball to play
with. We'd have to make a ball out of yarn and put a sock around it for
a cover. Six of us would stay on one side of a house and six on the
other side. Then we'd throw the ball over the roof and say 'Catch!' If
you'd catch it you'd run around to the; other side and hit somebody,
then start over. We worked so hard we couldn't play long on Sunday
evenings.
"School? We never seen the inside of a schoolhouse. Mistress used to
read the Bible to us every Sunday morning.
"We say two songs I still remember.
"I think when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
How he called little children like lambs to his fold,
I should like to have been with them then.
"I wish that his hands had been placed on my head,
That his arms had been thrown around me,
That I might have seen his kind face when he said
'Let the little ones come unto me.'
"Yet still to his footstool in prayer I nay go
And ask for a share of his love,
And that I might earnestly seek Him below
And see Him and hear Him above.
"Then there was another:
"I want to be an angel
And with the angels stand
With a crown upon my Forehead
And a harp within my hand.
"And there before my Saviour,
So glorious and so bright,
I'd make the sweetest music
And praise him day and night.
"And as soon as we got through singing those songs, we had to get right
out to work. I was always glad when they called us in the house to
Sunday school. It was the only chance we'd get to rest.
"When the slaves got sick, they'd take and look after themselves. My
master had a whole wall of his house for medicine, just like a store.
They made their own medicines and pills. My mistress's brother, Dr. Jim
Taylor, was a doctor. They done their own doctoring. I still have the
mark where I was vaccinated by my master.
"People was lousy in them days. I always had to pick louses from the
heads of the white children. You don't find children like that nowadays.
"My mistress had a little roan horse. She went all through the war on
that horse. Us little kids never went around the big folks. We didn't
watch folks faces to learn, like children do now. They wouldn't let us.
All I know about the Civil War was that it was goin' on. I heard talk
about killin' and so on, but I didn't know no thin' about it.
"My mother was the last slave to get off the plantation. She travelled
across the plantation all night with us children. It was pouring rain.
The white folks surrounded her and took away us children, and gave her
so many minutes to get off the plantation. We never saw her again. She
died away from us.
"My brother came to see us once when slavery was over. He was grown up.
My master wasn't going to let him see us and he took up his gun. My
mistress said he should let him see us. My brother gave me a little
coral ring. I thought it was the prettiest thing I ever saw.
"I made my sister leave. I took a rolling pin to make her go and she
finally left. They didn't have any more business with us than you have
right now.
"I remember when Yankee soldiers came riding through the yard. I was
scared and ran away crying. I can see them now. Their swords hung at
their sides and their horses walked proud, as if they walked on their
hind legs. The master was in the field trying to hide his money and guns
and things. The soldiers said, 'We won't hurt you, child.' It made me
feel wonderful.
"What I call the Ku Klux were those people who met at night and if they
heard anybody saying you was free, they would take you out at night and
whip you. They were the plantation owners. I never saw them ride, but I
heard about them and what they did. My master used to tell us he wished
he knew who the Ku Kluxers were. But he knew, all right, I used to wait
on table and I heard them talking. 'Gonna lynch another nigger tonight!'
"The slaves tried to get schools, but they didn't get any. Finally they
started a few schools in little log cabins. But we children, my sister
and I, never went to school.
"I married William L. Davison, when I was thirty-two years old. That was
after I left the plantation. I never had company there. I had to _work_.
I have only one grandchild still living, Willa May Reynolds. She taught
school in City Grove, Tennessee. She's married now.
"I thought Abe Lincoln was a great man. What little I know about him, I
always thought he was a great man. He did a lot of good.
"Us kids always used to sing a song, 'Gonna hang Jeff Davis to a sour
apple tree as we go marchin' home.' I didn't know what it meant at the
time.
"I never knew much about Booker T. Washington, but I heard about him.
Frederick Douglass was a great man, too. He did lots of good, like Abe
Lincoln.
"Well, slavery's over and I think that's a grand thing. A white lady
recently asked me, 'Don't you think you were better off under the white
people?' I said 'What you talkin' about? The birds of the air have their
freedom'. I don't know why she should ask me that anyway.
"I belong to the Third Baptist Church. I think all people should be
religious. Christ was a missionary. He went about doing good to people.
You should be clean, honest, and do everything good for people. I first
turn the searchlight on myself. To be a true Christian, you must do as
Christ said: 'Love one another'. You know, that's why I said I didn't
want to tell about my life and the terrible things that I and my sister
Mary suffered. I want to forgive those people. Some people tell me those
people are in hell now. But I don't think that. I believe we should all
do good to everybody."
Betty Lugabell, Reporter [TR: also reported as Lugabill]
Harold Pugh, Editor
R.S. Drum, Supervisor
Jun 9, 1937
Folklore: Ex-Slaves
Paulding Co., District 10
MARY BELLE DEMPSEY
Ex-Slave, 87 years
"I was only two years old when my family moved here, from _Wilford_
county, Kentucky. 'Course I don't remember anything of our slave days,
but my mother told me all about it."
"My mother and father were named Sidney Jane and William Booker. I had
one brother named George William Booker."
"The man who owned my father and mother was a good man." He was good to
them and never 'bused them. He had quite a large plantation and owned 26
slaves. Each slave family had a house of their own and the women of each
family prepared the meals, in their cabins. These cabins were warm and
in good shape."
"The master farmed his land and the men folks helped in the fields but
the women took care of their homes."
"We had our churches, too. Sometimes the white folks would try to cause
trouble when the negroes were holding their meetings, then a night the
men of the church would place chunks and matches on the white folks gate
post. In the morning the white folks would find them and know that it
was a warning if they din't quit causing trouble their buildings would
be burned."
"There was a farm that joined my parents' master's place and the owner
was about ready to sell the mother slave with her five small children.
The children carried on so much because they were to be separated that
the mistress bought them back although she had very little money to
spare."
"I don't know any more slave stories, but now I am getting old, and I
know that I do not have long to live, but I'm not sorry, I am, ready to
go. I have lived as the Lord wants us to live and I know that when I die
I shall join many of my friends and relatives in the Lord's place.
Religion is the finest thing on earth. It is the one and only thing that
matters."
Former Slave Interview, Special
Aug 16, 1937
Butler County, District #2
Middletown
MRS. NANCE EAST
809 Seventeenth Ave.,
Middletown, Ohio
"Mammy" East, 809 Seventeenth Ave., Middletown, Ohio, rules a four-room
bungalow in the negro district set aside by the American Rolling Mill
Corporation. She lives there with her sons, workers in the mill, and
keeps them an immaculate home in the manner which she was taught on a
Southern plantation. Her house is furnished with modern electrical
appliances and furniture, but she herself is an anachronism, a personage
with no faith in modern methods of living, one who belongs in that vague
period designated as "befo' de wah."
"I 'membahs all 'bout de slave time. I was powerful small but my mother
and daddy done tole me all 'bout it. Mother and daddy bofe come from
Vaginny; mother's mama did too. She was a weaver and made all our
clothes and de white folks clothes. Dat's all she ever did; just weave
and spin. Gran'mama and her chilluns was _sold_ to the Lett fambly, two
brothers from Monroe County, Alabama. _Sole_ jist like cows, honey,
right off the block, jist like cows. But they was good to they slaves.
"My mother's last name was Lett, after the white folks, and my daddy's
name was Harris Mosley, after his master. After mother and daddy
married, the Mosleys done bought her from the Letts so they could be
together. They was brother-in-laws. Den I was named after Miss Nancy.
Dey was Miss Nancy and Miss Hattie and two boys in the Mosleys. Land,
honey, they had a big (waving her hands in the air) plantation; a whole
section; and de biggest home you done ever see. We darkies had cabins.
Jist as clean and nice. Them Mosleys, they had a grist mill and a gin.
They like my daddy and he worked in de mill for them. Dey sure was good
to us. My mother worked on de place for Miss Nancy."
Mammy East, in a neat, voile dress and little pig-tails all over her
head, is a tall, light-skinned Negro, who admits that she would much
rather care for children than attend to the other duties of the little
house she owns; but the white spreads on the beds and the spotless
kitchen is no indication of this fact. She has a passion for the good
old times when the Negroes had security with no responsibility. Her
tall, statuesque appearance is in direct contrast to the present-day
conception of old southern "mammmies."
"De wah, honey? Why, when dem Yankees come through our county mother and
Miss Nancy and de rest hid de hosses in de swamps and hid other things
in the house, but dey got all the cattle and hogs. Killed 'em, but only
took the hams. Killed all de chickens and things, too. But dey didn't
hurt the house.
"After de wah, everybody jist went on working same as ever. Then one day
a white mans come riding through the county and tole us we was free.
_Free!_ Honey, did yo' hear _that_? Why we always had been free. He
didn't know what he was talking 'bout. He kept telling us we was free
and dat we oughtn't to work for no white folks 'less'n we got paid for
it. Well Miss Nancy took care of us then. We got our cabin and a piece
of ground for a garden and a share of de crops. Daddy worked in de mill.
Miss Nancy saw to it that we always had nice clothes too.
"Ku Klux, honey? Why, we nevah did hear tell of no sich thing where we
was. Nevah heered nothin' 'bout dat atall until we come up here, and dey
had em here. Law, honey, folks don't know when dey's well off. My daddy
worked in de mill and save his money, and twelve yeahs aftah de wah he
bought two hundred and twenty acres of land, 'bout ten miles away. Den
latah on daddy bought de mill from de Mosleys too. Yas'm, my daddy was
well off.
"My, you had to be somebody to votes. I sure do 'membahs all 'bout dat.
You had to be edicated and have money to votes. But I don' 'membahs no
trouble 'bout de votin'. Not where we come from, no how.
"I was married down dere. Mah husband's fust name was Monroe after the
county we lived in. My chilluns was named aftah some of the Mosleys. I
got a Ed and Hattie. Aftah my daddy died we each got forty acahs. I sold
mine and come up here to live with my boys.
"But honey dis ain't no way to raise chilluns. Not lak dey raised now.
All dis dishonesty and stealin' and laziness. _No mam!_ Look here at my
gran'sons. Eatin' offen dey daddy. No place for 'em. Got edication, and
caint git no jobs outside cuttin' grass and de like. Down on de
plantation ev'body worked. No laziness er 'oneriness, er nothin! I tells
yo' honey, I sure do wish these chilluns had de chances we had. Not much
learnin', but we had up-bringin'! Look at dem chilluns across de street.
Jist had a big fight ovah dere, and dey mothah's too lazy to do any
thing 'bout it. No'm, nevah did see none o' dat when we was young.
Gittin' in de folkeses hen houses and stealing, and de carryins on at
night. _No mam!_ I sure do wish de old times was here.
"I went back two-three yeahs ago, to de old home place, and dere it was,
jist same as when I was livin' with Miss Nancy. Co'se, theys all dead
and gone now, but some of the gran'chilluns was around. Yas'm, I membahs
heap bout dem times."
Miriam Logan, Reporter
Lebanon, Ohio