road and ties me to a tree. First he tears off the old shirt and then
he throws the bull whip to me. When he is tired of beating me more
torture is a-coming. The salt water cure. It don't cure nothing but
that's what the white folks called it. "Here's at you," the Master
say, and slap the salt water into the bleeding cuts. "Here's at you!"
The blisters burst every time he slap me with the brine.
Then I was loosened to stagger back into the kitchen. The Mistress
couldn't do nothing about it 'cept to lay on the grease thick, with a
kind word to help stop the misery.
Ration time was Saturday night. Every slave get enough fat pork, corn
meal and such to last out the week. I reckon the Master figure it to
the last bite because they was no leavings over. Most likely the
shortage catch them!
Sometimes they'd borrow, sometimes I'd slip somethings from out the
kitchen. The single women folks was bad that way. I favors them with
something extra from the kitchen. Then they favors me--at night when
the overseer thinks everybody asleep in they own places!
I was always back to my kitchen bed long before the overseer give the
get-up-knock. I hear the knock, he hear me answer. Then he blow the
horn and shout the loud call, ARE YOU UP, and everybody know it was
four o'clock and pour out of the cabins ready for the chores.
Sometimes the white folks go around the slave quarters for the night.
Not on the Davenport plantation, but some others close around. The
slaves talked about it amongst themselves.
After a while they'd be a new baby. Yellow. When the child got old
enough for chore work the master would sell him (or her). No
difference was it his own flesh and blood--if the price was right!
I traffic with lots of the women, but never marries. Not even when I
was free after the War. I sees too many married troubles to mess up
with such doings!
Sometimes the master sent me alone to the grinding mill. Load in the
yellow corn, hitch in the oxen, I was ready to go. I gets me fixed up
with a pass and takes to the road.
That was the trip I like best. On the way was a still. Off in the
bresh. If the still was lonely I stop, not on the way to but on the
way back. Mighty good whiskey, too! Maybe I drinks too much, then I
was sorry.
Not that I swipe the whiskey, just sorry because I gets sick! Then I
figures a woods camp meeting will steady me up and I goes.
The preacher meet me and want to know how is my feelings. I says I is
low with the misery and he say to join up with the Lord.
I never join because he don't talk about the Lord. Just about the
Master and Mistress. How the slaves must obey around the
plantation--how the white folks know what is good for the slaves.
Nothing about obeying the Lord and working for him.
I reckon the old preacher was worrying more about the bull whip than
he was the Bible, else he say something about the Lord! But I always
obeys the Lord--that's why I is still living!
The slaves would pray for to get out of bondage. Some of them say the
Lord told them to run away. Get to the North. Cross the Red River.
Over there would be folks to guide them to the Free State (Kansas).
The Lord never tell me to run away. I never tried it, maybe, because
mostly they was caught by patrollers and fetched back for a
flogging--and I had whippings enough already!
Before the Civil War was the fighting with Mexico. Some of the troops
on they way south passed on the Military Road. Wasn't any fighting
around Linden or Jefferson during the time.
They was lots of traveling on the Military Road. Most of the time you
could see covered wagons pulled by mules and horses, and sometimes a
crawling string of wagons with oxen on the pulling end.
From up in Arkansas come the stage coach along the road. To San
Antonio. The drivers bring news the Mexicans just about all killed off
and the white folks say Texas was going to join the Union. The
country's going to be run different they say, but I never see no
difference. Maybe, because I ain't white folks.
Wasn't many Mexicans around the old plantation. Come and go. Lots of
Indians. Cherokees and Choctaws. Living in mud huts and cabin shacks.
I never see them bother the whites, it was the other way around.
During the Civil War, when the Red River was bank high with muddy
water, the Yankee's made a target of Jefferson. That was a small town
down south of Linden.
Down the river come a flat barge with cannon fastened to the deck. The
Yankee soldiers stopped across the river from Jefferson and the
shooting started.
When the cannon went to popping the folks went arunning--hard to tell
who run the fastest, the whites or the blacks! Almost the town was
wiped out. Buildings was smashed and big trees cut through with the
cannon balls.
And all the time the Yankee drums was a-beating and the soldiers
singing:
We'll hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple tree,
As we go marching on!
Before the Civil War everybody had money. The white folks, not the
negroes. Sometimes the master take me to the town stores. They was
full of money. Cigar boxes on the counter, boxes on the shelf, all
filled with money. Not the crinkley paper kind, but hard, jingley gold
and silver! Not like these scarce times!
After the War I stay on the plantation 'til a soldier man tells me of
the freedom. The master never tell us--negroes working just like
before the War.
That's when I leave the first time. Slip off, saying nothing, to
Jefferson. There I found some good white folks going to New Orleans.
First place we go is Shreveport, by wagon. They took me because I fix
up with them to do the cooking.
On to the Big River (Mississippi) and boards a river steamboat for New
Orleans. Lots of negroes going down there--to work on the canal.
The whole town was built on logs covered with dirt. Trying to raise
itself right out of the swamp. Sometimes the water get high and folks
run for the hills. When I got there almost was I ready to leave.
I like Texas the best. Back to Jefferson is where I go. Fifteen-twenty
mile below Linden. Almost the first person I see was Master Davenport.
He says, "Black rascal, you is coming with me." And I do. He tried to
keep his slaves and just laugh when I tell him about the freedom. I
worked for food and quarters 'til his meanness come cropping out
again.
That wasn't long and he threatened me with the whip and the buck and
gag. The buck and gag was maybe worse. I got to feeling that iron
stick in my mouth, fastened around my head with chains, pressing hard
on my tongue. No drinking, no eating, no talking!
So I slip off again. That night I goes through Linden. Crawling on my
hands and knees! Keeping in the dark spots, hiding from the whites,
'til I pass the last house, then my feets hurries me to Jefferson,
where I gets a ride to Arkansas.
In Russelville is where I stop. There I worked around in the yards,
cutting the grass, fancying the flower beds, and earned a little money
for clothes and eats, with some of it spent for good whiskey.
That was the reason I left Arkansas. Whiskey. The law got after me to
tell where was a man's whiskey still. I just leave so's I won't have
to tell.
But while I was making a little money in Russelville, I lose out on
some big money, account some white folks beat me to it.
I was out in the hills west of town, walking along the banks of a
little creek, when I heard a voice. Queer like. I called out who is
that talking and I hears it again.
"Go to the white oak tree and you will find Ninety Thousand Dollars!"
That's what I hear. I look around, nobody in sight, but I see the
tree. A big white oak tree standing taller than all the rest 'round
about.
Under the tree was a grave. An old grave. I scratch around but finds
no money and thinks of getting some help.
I done some work for a white man in town and told him about the voice.
He promised to go with me, but the next day he took two white mens and
dug around the tree. Then he says they was nothing to find.
To this day I know better. I know wherever they's a ghost, money is
around someplace! That's what the ghost comes back for.
Somebody dies and leaves buried money. The ghost watches over it 'til
it sees somebody it likes. Then ghost shows himself--lets know he's
around. Sometimes the ghost tells where is the money buried, like that
time at Russelville.
That ain't the only ghost I've seen or heard. I see one around the
yard where I is living now. A woman. Some of these times she'll tell
me where the buried money is.
Maybe the ghost woman thinks I is too old to dig. But I been a-digging
all these long years. For a bite to eat and a sleep-under cover.
I reckon pretty soon she's going to tell where to dig. When she does,
then old Uncle John won't have to dig for the eats no more!
[Illustration: Charley Williams and Granddaughter]
Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
[HW: (photo)]
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]
CHARLEY WILLIAMS
Age 94 yrs.
Tulsa, Okla.
Iffen I could see better out'n my old eyes, and I had me something to
work with and de feebleness in my back and head would let me 'lone, I
would have me plenty to eat in de kitchen all de time, and plenty
tobaccy in my pipe, too, bless God!
And dey wouldn't be no rain trickling through de holes in de roof, and
no planks all fell out'n de flo' on de gallery neither, 'cause dis one
old nigger knows everything about making all he need to git along! Old
Master done showed him how to git along in dis world, jest as long as
he live on a plantation, but living in de town is a different way of
living, and all you got to have is a silver dime to lay down for
everything you want, and I don't git de dime very often.
But I aint give up! Nothing like dat! On de days when I don't feel so
feeble and trembly I jest keep patching 'round de place. I got to keep
patching so as to keep it whar it will hold de winter out, in case I
git to see another winter.
Iffen I don't, it don't grieve me none, 'cause I wants to see old
Master again anyways. I reckon maybe I'll jest go up an ask him what
he want me to do, and he'll tell me, and iffen I don't know how he'll
show me how, and I'll try to do it to please him. And when I git it
done I wants to hear him grumble like he used to and say, "Charley,
you ain't got no sense but you is a good boy. Dis here ain't very good
but it'll do, I reckon. Git yourself a little piece o' dat brown
sugar, but don't let no niggers see you eating it--if you do I'll whup
your black behind!"
Dat ain't de way it going be in Heaven, I reckon, but I can't set here
on dis old rottendy gallery and think of no way I better like to have
it!
I was a great big hulking buck of a boy when de War come along and
bust up everything, and I can 'member back when everybody was living
peaceful and happy, and nobody never had no notion about no war.
I was borned on the 'leventh of January, in 1843, and was old enough
to vote when I got my freedom, but I didn't take no stock in all dat
politics and goings on at dat time, and I didn't vote till a long time
after old Master passed away, but I was big enough before de War to
remember everything pretty plain.
Old Master name was John Williams, and old Mistress name was Miss
Betty, and she was a Campbell before she married. Young Missy was
named Betty after her mommy, and Young Master was named Frank, but I
don't know who after. Our overseer was Mr. Simmons, and he was mighty
smart and had a lot of patience, but he wouldn't take no talk nor
foolishness. He didn't whup nobody very often, but he only had to whup
'em jest one time! He never did whup a nigger at de time the nigger
done something, but he would wait till evening and have old Master
come and watch him do it. He never whupped very hard 'cept when he had
told a nigger about something and promised a whupping next time and
the nigger done it again. Then that nigger got what he had been
hearing 'bout!
De plantation was about as big as any. I think it had about three
hundred acres, and it was about two miles northwest of Monroe,
Louisiana. Then he had another one not so big, two--three miles south
of the big one, kind of down in the woodsy part along the White river
bottoms. He had another overseer on that place and a big passel of
niggers, but I never did go down to that one. That was where he raised
most of his corn and shoats, and lots of sorghum cane.
Our plantation was up on higher ground, and it was more open country,
but still they was lots of woods all around and lots of the
plantations had been whacked right out of de new ground and was full
of stumps. Master's place was more open, though, and all in the fields
was good plowing.
The big road runned right along past our plantation, and it come from
Shreveport and run into Monroe. There wasn't any town at Monroe in
them days, jest a little cross roads place with a general store and a
big hide house. I think there was about two big hide houses, and you
could smell that place a mile before you got into it. Old Master had a
part in de store, I think.
De hide houses was jest long sheds, all open along de sides and
kivered over wid cypress clapboards.
Down below de hide houses and de store was jest a little settlement of
one or two houses, but they was a school for white boys. Somebody said
there was a place where they had been an old fort, but I never did see
it.
Everything boughten we got come from Shreveport, and was brung in by
the stage and the freighters, and that was only a little coffee or
gunpowder, or some needles for the sewing, or some strap iron for the
blacksmith, or something like dat. We made and raised everything else
we needed right on the place.
I never did even see any quinine till after I was free. My mammy
knowed jest what root to go out and pull up to knock de chills right
out'n me. And de bellyache and de running off de same way, too.
Our plantation was a lot different from some I seen other places, like
way east of there, around Vicksburg. Some of them was fixed up fancier
but dey didn't have no more comforts than we had.
Old Master come out into that country when he was a young man, and
they didn't have even so much then as they had when I was a boy. I
think he come from Alabama or Tennessee, and way back his people had
come from Virginia, or maybe North Carolina, 'cause he knowed all
about tobacco on the place. Cotton and tobacco was de long crops on
his big place, and of course lots of horses and cattle and mules.
De big house was made out'n square hewed logs, and chinked wid little
rocks and daubed wid white clay, and kivered wid cypress clapboards. I
remember one time we put on a new roof, and de niggers hauled up de
cypress logs and sawed dem and frowed out de clapboards by hand.
De house had two setting rooms on one side and a big kitchen room on
de other, wid a wide passage in between, and den about was de sleeping
rooms. They wasn't no stairways 'cepting on de outside. Steps run up
to de sleeping rooms on one side from de passageway and on de other
side from clean outside de house. Jest one big chimbley was all he
had, and it was on de kitchen end, and we done all de cooking in a
fireplace dat was purty nigh as wide as de whole room.
In de sleeping rooms day wasn't no fires 'cepting in brazers made out
of clay, and we toted up charcoal to burn in 'em when it was cold
mornings in de winter. Dey kept warm wide de bed clothes and de
knitten clothes dey had.
Master never did make a big gallery on de house, but our white folks
would set out in de yard under de big trees in de shade. They was long
benches made out'n hewed logs and all padded wid gray moss and corn
shuck padding, and dey set pretty soft. All de furniture in de house
was home-made, too. De beds had square posts as big around as my shank
and de frame was mortised into 'em, and holes bored in de frame and
home-made rope laced in to make it springy. Den a great big mattress
full of goose feathers and two--three comforts as thick as my foot wid
carded wool inside! Dey didn't need no fireplaces!
De quarters was a little piece from de big house, and dey run along
both sides of de road dat go to de fields. All one-room log cabins,
but dey was good and warm, and every one had a little open shed at de
side whar we sleep in de summer to keep cool.
They was two or three wells at de quarters for water, and some good
springs in de branch at de back of de fields. You could ketch a fish
now and den in dat branch, but Young Master used to do his fishing in
White River, and take a nigger or two along to do de work at his camp.
It wasn't very fancy at de Big House, but it was mighty pretty jest de
same, wid de gray moss hanging from de big trees, and de cool green
grass all over de yard, and I can shet my old eyes and see it jest
like it was before de War come along and bust it up.
I can see old Master setting out under a big tree smoking one of his
long cheroots his tobacco nigger made by hand, and fanning hisself wid
his big wide hat another nigger platted out'n young inside corn shucks
for him, and I can hear him holler at a big bunch of white geeses
what's gitting in his flower beds and see 'em string off behind de old
gander towards de big road.
When de day begin to crack de whole plantation break out wid all kinds
of noises, and you could tell what going on by de kind of noise you
hear.
Come de daybreak you hear de guinea fowls start potracking down at de
edge of de woods lot, and den de roosters all start up 'round de barn
and de ducks finally wake up and jine in. You can smell de sow belly
frying down at the cabins in de "row", to go wid de hoecake and de
buttermilk.
Den purty soon de wind rise a little, and you can hear a old bell
donging way on some plantation a mile or two off, and den more bells
at other places and maybe a horn, and purty soon younder go old
Master's old ram horn wid a long toot and den some short toots, and
here come de overseer down de row of cabins, hollering right and left,
and picking de ham out'n his teeth wid a long shiny goose quill pick.
Bells and horns! Bells for dis and horns for dat! All we knowed was go
and come by de bells and horns!
Old ram horn blow to send us all to de field. We all line up, about
seventy-five field niggers, and go by de tool shed and git our hoes,
or maybe go hitch up de mules to de plows and lay de plows out on de
side so de overseer can see iffen de points is shart. Any plow gits
broke or de point gits bungled up on de rocks it goes to de blacksmith
nigger, den we all git on down in de field.
Den de anvil start dangling in de blacksmith shop: "Tank! Deling-ding!
Tank! Deling-ding!", and dat ole bull tongue gitting straightened out!
Course you can't hear de shoemaker awling and pegging, and de card
spinners, and de old mammy sewing by hand, but maybe you can hear de
old loom going "frump, frump", and you know it all right iffen your
clothes do be wearing out, 'cause you gwine git new britches purty
soon!
We had about a hundred niggers on dat place, young and old, and about
twenty on de little place down below. We could make about every kind
of thing but coffee and gunpowder dat our whitefolks and us needed.
When we needs a hat we gits inside cornshucks and weave one out, and
makes horse collars de same way. Jest tie two little soft shucks
together and begin plaiting.
All de cloth 'cepting de Mistress' Sunday dresses come from de sheep
to de carders and de spinners and de weaver, den we dye it wid
"butternut" and hickory bark and indigo and other things and set it
wid copperas. Leather tanned on de place made de shoes, and I never
see a store boughten wagon wheel 'cepting among de stages and de
freighters along de big road.
We made purty, long back-combs out'n cow horn, and knitting needles
out'n second hickory. Split a young hickory and put in a big wedge to
prize it open, then cut it down and let it season, and you got good
bent grain for wagon hames and chair rockers and such.
It was jest like dat until I was grown, and den one day come a
neighbor man and say we in de War.
Little while young Master Frank ride over to Vicksburg and jine de
Sesesh army, but old Master jest go on lak nothing happen, and we all
don't hear nothing more until long come some Sesesh soldiers and take
most old Master's hosses and all his wagons.
I bin working on de tobacco, and when I come back to de barns
everything was gone. I would go into de woods and git good hickory and
burn it till it was all coals and put it out wid water to make hickory
charcoal for curing de tobacco. I had me some charcoal in de fire
trenches under de curing houses, all full of new tobacco, and overseer
come and say bundle all de tobacco up and he going take it to
Shreveport and sell it befo' de soldiers take it too.
After de hosses all gone and most de cattle and de cotton and de
tobacco gone too, here come de Yankees and spread out all over de
whole country. Dey had a big camp down below our plantation.
One evening a big bunch of Yankee officers come up to de Big House and
old Master set out de brandy in de yard and dey act purty nice. Next
day de whole bunch leave on out of dat part.
When de hosses and stuff all go old Master sold all de slaves but
about four, but he kept my pappy and mammy and my brother Jimmie and
my sister Betty. She was named after old Mistress. Pappy's name was
Charley and mammy's was Sally. De niggers he kept didn't have much
work without any hosses and wagons, but de blacksmith started in
fixing up more wagons and he kept them hid in de woods till they was
all fixed.
Den along come some more Yankees, and dey tore everything we had up,
and old Master was afeared to shoot at them on account his womenfolks,
so he tried to sneak the fambly out but they kotched him and brung him
back to de plantation.
We niggers didn't know dat he was gone until we seen de Yankees
bringing dem back. De Yankees had done took charge of everything and
was camping in de big yard, and us was all down at de quarters scared
to death, but dey was jest letting us alone.
It was night when de white folks tried to go away, and still night
when de Yankees brung dem back, and a house nigger come down to de
quarters wid three--four mens in blue clothes and told us to come up
to de Big House.
De Yankees didn't seem to be mad wid old Master, but jest laughed and
talked wid him, but he didn't take de jokes any too good.
Den dey asked him could he dance and he said no, and dey told him to
dance or make us dance. Dar he stood inside a big ring of dem mens in
blue clothes, wid dey brass buttons shining in de light from de fire
dey had in front of de tents, and he jest stood and said nothing, and
it look lak he wasn't wanting to tell us to dance.
So some of us young bucks jest step up and say we was good dancers,
and we start shuffling while de rest of de niggers pat.
Some nigger women go back to de quarters and git de gourd fiddles and
de clapping bones made out'n beef ribs, and bring dem back so we could
have some music. We git all warmed up and dance lak we never did dance
befo'! I speck we invent some new steps dat night!
We act lak we dancing for de Yankees, but we trying to please Master
and old Mistress more than anything, and purty soon he begin to smile
a little and we all feel a lot better.
Next day de Yankees move on away from our place, and old Master start
gitting ready to move out. We git de wagons we hid, and de whole
passel of us leaves out for Shreveport. Jest left de old place
standing like it was.
In Shreveport old Master git his cotton and tobacco money what he been
afraid to have sent back to de plantation when he sell his stuff, and
we strike out north through Arkansas.
Dat was de awfullest trip any man ever make! We had to hide from
everybody until we find out if dey Yankees or Sesesh, and we go along
little old back roads and up one mountain and down another, through de
woods all de way.
After a long time we git to the Missouri line, and kind of cut off
through de corner of dat state into Kansas. I don't know how we ever
git across some of dem rivers but we did. Dey nearly always would be
some soldiers around de fords, and dey would help us find de best
crossing. Sometimes we had to unload de wagons and dry out de stuff
what all got wet, and camp a day or two to fix up again.
Purty soon we git to Fort Scott, and that was whar de roads forked
ever whichaways. One went on north and one east and one went down into
de Indian country. It was full of soldiers coming and going back and
forth to Arkansas and Fort Gibson.
We took de road on west through Kansas, and made for Colorado Springs.
Fort Scott was all run down, and the old places whar dey used to have
de soldiers was all fell in in most places. Jest old rackety walls and
leaky roofs, and a big pole fence made out'n poles sot in de ground
all tied together, but it was falling down too.
They was lots of wagons all around what belong to de army, hauling
stuff for de soldiers, and some folks told old Master he couldn't make
us niggers go wid him, but we said we wanted to anyways, so we jest
went on west across Kansas.
When we got away on west we come to a fork, and de best road went
kinda south into Mexico, and we come to a little place called Clayton,
Mexico whar we camped a while and then went north.
Dat place is in New Mexico now, but old Master jest called it Mexico.
Somebody showed me whar it is on de map, and it look lak it a long
ways off'n our road to Colorado Springs, but I guess de road jest wind
off down dat ways at de time we went over it. It was jest two or three
houses made out'n mud at dat time, and a store whar de soldiers and de
Indians come and done trading.
About dat time old Master sell off some of de stuff he been taking
along, 'cause de wagons loaded too heavy for de mountains and he
figger he better have de money than some of de stuff, I reckon.
On de way north it was a funny country. We jest climb all day long
gitting up one side of one bunch of mountains, and all de nigger men
have to push on de wheels while de mules pull and den scotch de wheels
while de mules rest. Everybody but de whitefolks has to walk most de
time.
Down in de valleys it was warm like in Louisiana, but it seem lak de
sun aint so hot on de head, but it look lak every time night come it
ketch us up on top of one of dem mountains, and it almost as cold as
in de winter time!
All de niggers had shoes and plenty warm clothes and we wrop up at
night in everything we can git.
We git to Fort Scott again, and den de Yankee officers come and ask
all us niggers iffen we want to leave old Master and stay dar and
work, 'cause we all free now. Old Master say we can do what we please
about it.
A few of de niggers stay dar in Fort Scott, but most of us say we
gwine stay wid old Master, and we don't care iffen we is free or not.
When we git back to Monroe to de old place us niggers git a big
surprise. We didn't hear about it, but some old Master's kinfolks back
in Virginia done come out dar an fix de place up and kept it for him
while we in Colorado, and it look 'bout as good as when we left it.
He cut it up in chunks and put us niggers out on it on de halves, but
he had to sell part of it to git de money to git us mules and tools
and found to run on. Den after while he had to sell some more, and he
seem lak he git old mighty fast.
Young Master bin in de big battles in Virginia, and he git hit, and
den he git sick, and when he come home he jest lak a old man he was so
feeble.
About dat time they was a lot of people coming into dat country from
de North, and dey kept telling de niggers dat de thing for dem to do
was to be free, and come and go whar dey please.
Dey try to git de darkeys to go and vote but none us folks took much
stock by what dey say. Old Master tell us plenty time to mix in de
politics when de younguns git educated and know what to do.
Jest de same he never mind iffen we go to de dances and de singing and
sech. He allus lent us a wagon iffen we want to borry one to go in,
too.
Some de niggers what work for de white folks from de North act purty
uppity and big, and come pestering 'round de dance places and try to
talk up ructions amongst us, but it don't last long.
De Ku Kluckers start riding 'round at night, and dey pass de word dat
de darkeys got to have a pass to go and come and to stay at de dances.
Dey have to git de pass from de white folks dey work for, and passes
writ from de Northern people wouldn't do no good. Dat de way de
Kluckers keep the darkies in line.
De Kluckers jest ride up to de dance ground and look at everybody's
passes, and iffen some darkey dar widout a pass or got a pass from de
wrong man dey run him home, and iffen he talk big and won't go home
dey whop him and make him go.
Any nigger out on de road after dark liable to run across de Kluckers,
and he better have a good pass! All de dances got to bust up at about
'leven o'clock, too.
One time I seen three-four Kluckers on hosses, all wrapped up in
white, and dey was making a black boy git home. Dey was riding hosses
and he was trotting down de road ahead of 'em. Ever time he stop and
start talking dey pop de whip at his heels and he start trotting on.
He was so made he was crying, but he was gitting on down de road jest
de same.
I seen 'em coming and I gits out my pass young Master writ so I could
show it, but when dey ride by one in front jest turns in his saddle
and look back at tother men and nod his head, and they jest ride on by
widout stopping to see my pass. Dat man knowed me, I reckon. I looks
to see iffen I knowed de hoss, but de Kluckers sometime swapped dey
hosses 'round amongst 'em, so de hoss maybe wasn't hisn.
Dey wasn't very bad 'cause de niggers 'round dar wasn't bad, but I
hear plenty of darkeys git whopped in other places 'cause dey act up
and say dey don't have to take off dey hats in de white stores and
such.
Any nigger dat behave hisself and don't go running 'round late at
night and drinking never had no trouble wid de Kluckers.
Young Mistress go off and git married, but I don't remember de name
'cause she live off somewhar else, and de next year, I think it was,
my pappy and mammy go on a place about five miles away owned by a man
named Mr. Bumpus, and I go 'long wid my sister Betty and brother
Jimmie to help 'em.
I live around dat place and never marry till old mammy and pappy both
gone, and Jimmie and Betty both married and I was gitting about forty
year old myself, and den I go up in Kansas and work around till I git
married at last.
I was in Fort Scott, and I married Mathilda Black in 1900, and she is
73 years old now and was born in Tennessee. We went to Pittsburg,
Kansas, and lived from 1907 to 1913 when we come to Tulsa.
Young Master's children writ to me once in a while and telled me how
dey gitting 'long up to about twenty year ago, and den I never heard
no more about 'em. I never had no children, and it look lak my wife
going outlive me, so my mainest hope when I goes on is seeing Mammy
and Pappy and old Master. Old overseer, I speck, was too devilish mean
to be thar!
'Course I loves my Lord Jesus same as anybody, but you see I never
hear much about Him until I was grown, and it seem lak you got to hear
about religion when you little to soak it up and put much by it.
Nobody could read de Bible when I was a boy, and dey wasn't no white
preachers talked to de niggers. We had meeting sometimes, but de
nigger preacher jest talk about bein a good nigger and "doing to
please de Master," and I allus thought he meant to please old Master,
and I allus wanted to do dat anyways.
So dat de reason I allus remember de time old Master pass on.
It was about two years after de War, and old Master been mighty porely
all de time. One day we was working in de Bumpus field and a nigger
come on a mule and say old Mistress like to have us go over to de old
place 'cause old Master mighty low and calling mine and Pappy's and
Mammy's name. Old man Bumpus say go right ahead.
When we git to de Big House old Master setting propped up in de bed
and you can see he mighty low and out'n his head.
He been talking about gitting de oats stacked, 'cause it seem to him
lak it gitting gloomy-dark, and it gwine to rain, and hail gwine to
ketch de oats in de shocks. Some nigger come running up to de back
door wid an old horn old Mistress sent him out to hunt up, and he
blowed it so old Master could hear it.
Den purty soon de doctor come to de door and say old Master wants de
bell rung 'cause de slaves should ought to be in from de fields,
'cause it gitting too dark to work. Somebody git a wagon tire and beat
on it like a bell ringing, right outside old Master's window, and den
we all go up on de porch and peep in. Every body was snuffling kind of
quiet, 'cause we can't help it.
We hear old Master say, "Dat's all right, Simmons. I don't want my
niggers working in de rain. Go down to de quarters and see dey all
dried off good. Dey ain't got no sense but dey all good niggers."
Everybody around de bed was crying, and we all was crying too.
Den old Mistress come to de door and say we can go in and look at him
if we want to. He was still setting propped up, but he was gone.
I stayed in Louisiana a long time after dat, but I didn't care nothing
about it, and it look lak I'm staying a long time past my time in dis
world, 'cause I don't care much about staying no longer only I hates
to leave Mathilda.
But any time de Lord want me I'm ready, and I likes to think when He
ready He going tell old Master to ring de bell for me to come on in.
Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
SARAH WILSON
Age 87 yrs.
Fort Gibson, Okla.
I was a Cherokee slave and now I am a Cherokee freedwoman, and besides
that I am a quarter Cherokee my own self. And this is the way it is.
I was born in 1850 along the Arkansas river about half way between
Fort Smith and old Fort Coffee and the Skullyville boat landing on the
river. The farm place was on the north side of the river on the old
wagon road what run from Fort Smith out to Fort Gibson, and that old
road was like you couldn't hardly call a road when I first remember
seeing it. The ox teams bog down to they bellies in some places, and
the wagon wheel mighty nigh bust on the big rocks in some places.
I remember seeing soldiers coming along that old road lots of times,
and freighting wagons, and wagons what we all know carry mostly
wiskey, and that was breaking the law, too! Them soldiers catch the
man with that whiskey they sure put him up for a long time, less'n he
put some silver in they hands. That's what my Uncle Nick say. That
Uncle Nick a mean Negro, and he ought to know about that.
Like I tell you, I am quarter Cherokee. My mammy was named Adeline and
she belong to old Master Ben Johnson. Old Master Ben bring my
grandmammy out to that Sequoyah district way back when they call it
Arkansas, mammy tell me, and God only know who my mammy's pa is, but
mine was old Master Ben's boy, Ned Johnson.
Old Master Ben come from Tennessee when he was still a young man, and
he bring a whole passel of slaves and my mammy say they all was kin to
one another, all the slaves I mean. He was a white man that married a
Cherokee woman, and he was a devil on this earth. I don't want to
talk about him none.
White folks was mean to us like the devil, and so I jest let them
pass. When I say my brothers and sisters I mean my half brothers and
sisters, you know, but maybe some of them was my whole kin anyways, I
don't know. They was Lottie that was sold off to a Starr because she
wouldn't have a baby, and Ed, Dave, Ben, Jim and Ned.
My name is Sarah now but it was Annie until I was eight years old. My
old Mistress' name was Annie and she name me that, and Mammy was
afraid to change it until old Mistress died, then she change it. She
hate old Mistress and that name too.
Lottie's name was Annie, too, but Mammy changed it in her own mind but
she was afraid to say it out loud, a-feared she would get a whipping.
When sister was sold off Mammy tell her to call herself Annie when she
was leaving but call herself Lottie when she git over to the Starrs.
And she done it too. I seen her after that and she was called Lottie
all right.
The Negroes lived all huddled up in a bunch in little one-room log
cabins with stick and mud chimneys. We lived in one, and it had beds
for us children like shelves in the wall. Mammy need to help us up
into them.
Grandmammy was mighty old and Mistress was old too. Grandmammy set on
the Master's porch and minded the baby mostly. I think it was Young
Master's. He was married to a Cherokee girl. They was several of the
boys but only one girl, Nicie. The old Master's boys were Aaron, John,
Ned, Cy and Nathan. They lived in a double log house made out of
square hewed logs, and with a double fireplace out of rock where they
warmed theirselves on one side and cooked on the other. They had a
long front porch where they set most of the time in the summer, and
slept on it too.
There was over a hundred acres in the Master's farm, and it was all
bottom land too, and maybe you think he let them slaves off easy! Work
from daylight to dark! They all hated him and the overseer too, and
before slavery ended my grandmammy was dead and old Mistress was dead
and old Master was mighty feeble and Uncle Nick had run away to the
North soldiers and they never got him back. He run away once before,
about ten years before I was born, Mammy say, but the Cherokees went
over in the Creek Nation and got him back that time.
The way he made the Negroes work so hard, old Master must have been
trying to get rich. When they wouldn't stand for a whipping he would
sell them.
I saw him sell a old woman and her son. Must have been my aunt. She
was always pestering around trying to get something for herself, and
one day she was cleaning the yard he seen her pick up something and
put it inside her apron. He flew at her and cussed her, and started
like he was going to hit her but she just stood right up to him and
never budged, and when he come close she just screamed out loud and
ran at him with her fingers stuck out straight and jabbed him in the
belly. He had a big soft belly, too, and it hurt him. He seen she
wasn't going to be afraid, and he set out to sell her. He went off on
his horse to get some men to come and bid on her and her boy, and all
us children was mighty scared about it.
They would have hangings at Fort Smith courthouse, and old Master
would take a slave there sometimes to see the hanging, and that slave
would come back and tell us all scary stories about the hanging.
One time he whipped a whole bunch of the men on account of a fight in
the quarters, and then he took them all to Fort Smith to see a
hanging. He tied them all in the wagon, and when they had seen the
hanging he asked them if they was scared of them dead men hanging up
there. They all said yes, of course, but my old uncle Nick was a bad
Negro and he said, "No, I aint a-feared of them nor nothing else in
this world", and old Master jumped on him while he was tied and beat
him with a rope, and then when they got home he tied old Nick to a
tree and took his shirt off and poured the cat-o-nine-tails to him
until he fainted away and fell over like he was dead.
I never forget seeing all that blood all over my uncle, and if I could
hate that old Indian any more I guess I would, but I hated him all I
could already I reckon.
Old Master wasn't the only hellion neither. Old Mistress just as bad,
and she took most of her wrath out hitting us children all the time.
She was afraid of the grown Negroes. Afraid of what they might do
while old Master was away, but she beat us children all the time.
She would call me, "Come here Annie!" and I wouldn't know what to do.
If I went when she called "Annie" my mammy would beat me for answering
to that name, and if I didn't go old Mistress would beat me for that.
That made me hate both of them, and I got the devil in me and I
wouldn't come to either one. My grandmammy minded the Master's yard,
and she set on the front porch all the time, and when I was called I
would run to her and she wouldn't let anybody touch me.
When I was eight years old old Mistress died, and Grandmammy told me
why old Mistress picked on me so. She told me about me being half
Mister Ned's blood. Then I knowed why Mister Ned would say, "Let her
along, she got big big blood in her", and then laugh.
Young Mister Ned was a devil, too. When his mammy died he went out and
"blanket married." I mean he brung in a half white and half Indian
woman and just lived with her.
The slaves would get rations every Monday morning to do them all week.
The Overseer would weigh and measure according to how many in the
family, and if you run out you just starve till you get some more. We
all know the overseer steal some of it for his own self but we can't
do anything, so we get it from the old Master some other way.
One day I was carrying water from the spring and I run up on
Grandmammy and Uncle Nick skinning a cow. "What you-all doing?", I
say, and they say keep my mouth shut or they kill me. They was
stealing from the Master to piece out down at the quarters with. Old
Master had so many cows he never did count the difference.
I guess I wasn't any worse than any the rest of the Negroes, but I was
bad to tell little lies. I carry scars on my legs to this day where
Old Master whip me for lying, with a rawhide quirt he carry all the
time for his horse. When I lie to him he just jump down off'n his
horse and whip me good right there.
In slavery days we all ate sweet potatoes all the time. When they
didn't measure out enough of the tame kind we would go out in the
woods and get the wild kind. They growed along the river sand betaween
where we lived and Wilson's Rock, out west of our place.
Then we had boiled sheep and goat, mostly goat, and milk and wild
greens and corn pone. I think the goat meat was the best, but I aint
had no teeth for forty years now, and a chunk of meat hurts my
stomach. So I just eats grits mostly. Besides hoeing in the field,
chopping sprouts, shearing sheep, carrying water, cutting firewood,
picking cotton and sewing I was the one they picked to work Mistress'
little garden where she raised things from seed they got in Fort
Smith. Green peas and beans and radishes and things like that. If we
raised a good garden she give me a little of it, and if we had a poor
one I got a little anyhow even when she didn't give it.
For clothes we had homespun cotton all the year round, but in winter
we had a sheep skin jacket with the wool left on the inside. Sometimes
sheep skin shoes with the wool on the inside and sometimes real cow
leather shoes with wood peggings for winter, but always barefooted in
summer, all the men and women too.
Lord, I never earned a dime of money in slave days for myself but
plenty for the old Master. He would send us out to work the neighbors
field and he got paid for it, but we never did see any money.
I remember the first money I ever did see. It was a little while after
we was free, and I found a greenback in the road at Fort Gibson and I
didn't know what it was. Mammy said it was money and grabbed for it,
but I was still a hell cat and I run with it. I went to the little
sutler store and laid it down and pointed to a pitcher I been wanting.
The man took the money and give me the pitcher, but I don't know to
this day how much money it was and how much was the pitcher, but I
still got that pitcher put away. It's all blue and white stripedy.
Most of the work I done off the plantation was sewing. I learned from
my Granny and I loved to sew. That was about the only thing I was
industrious in. When I was just a little bitsy girl I found a steel
needle in the yard that belong to old Mistress. My mammy took it and I
cried. She put it in her dress and started for the field. I cried so
old Mistress found out why and made Mammy give me the needle for my
own.
We had some neighbor Indians named Starr, and Mrs. Starr used me
sometimes to sew. She had nine boys and one girl, and she would sew up
all they clothes at once to do for a year. She would cut out the cloth
for about a week, and then send the word around to all the neighbors,
and old Mistress would send me because she couldn't see good to sew.
They would have stacks of drawers, shirts, pants and some dresses all
cut out to sew up.
I was the only Negro that would set there and sew in that bunch of
women, and they always talked to me nice and when they eat I get part
of it too, out in the kitchen.
One Negro girl, Eula Davis, had a mistress sent her too, one time, but
she wouldn't sew. She didn't like me because she said I was too white
and she played off to spite the white people. She got sent home, too.
When old Mistress die I done all the sewing for the family almost. I
could sew good enough to go out before I was eight years old, and when
I got to be about ten I was better than any other girl on the place
for sewing.
I can still quilt without my glasses, and I have sewed all night long
many a time while I was watching Young Master's baby after old
Mistress died.
They was over a hundred acres in the plantation, and I don't know how
many slaves, but before the War ended lots of the men had run away.
Uncle Nick went to the North and never come home, and Grandmammy died
about that time.
We was way down across the Red river in Texas at that time, close to
Shawneetown of the Choctaw Nation but just across the river on the
other side in Texas bottoms. Old Master took us there in covered
wagons when the Yankee soldiers got too close by in the first part of
the War. He hired the slaves out to Texas people because he didn't
make any crops down there, and we all lived in kind of camps. That's
how some of the men and my uncle Nick got to slip off to the north
that way.
Old Master just rant and rave all the time we was in Texas. That's the
first time I ever saw a doctor. Before that when a slave sick the old
women give them herbs, but down there one day old Master whip a Negro
girl and she fall in the fire, and he had a doctor come out to fix her
up where she was burnt. I remember Granny giving me clabber milk when
I was sick, and when I was grown I found out it had had medicine in
it.
Before freedom we didn't have no church, but slipped around to the
other cabins and had a little singing sometimes. Couldn't have anybody
show us the letters either, and you better not let them catch you pick
up a book even to look at the pictures, for it was against a Cherokee
law to have a Negro read and write or to teach a Negro.
Some Negroes believed in buckeyes and charms but I never did. Old
Master had some good boys, named Aaron, John, Ned, Cy and Nat and they
told me the charms was no good. Their sister Nicie told me too, and
said when I was sick just come and tell her.
They didn't tell us anything about Christmas and New Year though, and
all we done was work.
When the War was ended we was still in Texas, and when old Master got
a letter from Fort Smith telling him the slaves was free he couldn't
read, and Young Miss read it to him. He went wild and jumped on her
and beat the devil out of her. Said she was lying to him. It near
about killed him to let us loose, but he cooled down after awhile and
said he would help us all get back home if we wanted to come.
Mammy told him she could bear her own expenses. I remember I didn't
know what "expenses" was, and I thought it was something I was going
to have to help carry all the way back.
It was a long time after he knew we was free before he told us. He
tried to keep us, I reckon, but had to let us go. He died pretty soon
after he told us, and some said his heart just broke and some said
some Negroes poisoned him. I didn't know which.
Anyways we had to straggle back the best way we could, and me and
mammy just got along one way and another till we got to a ferry over
the Red River and into Arkansas. Then we got some rides and walked
some until we got to Fort Smith. They was a lot of Negro camps there
and we stayed awhile and then started out to Fort Gibson because we
heard they was giving rations out there. Mammy knew we was Cherokee
anyway, I guess.
That trip was hell on earth. Nobody let us ride and it took us nearly
two weeks to walk all that ways, and we nearly starved all the time.
We was skin and bones and feet all bloody when we got to the Fort.
We come here to Four Mile Branch to where the Negroes was all setting
down, and pretty soon Mammy died.
I married Oliver Wilson on January second, 1878. He used to belong to
Mr. DeWitt Wilson of Tahlequah, and I think the old people used to
live down at Wilson Rock because my husband used to know all about
that place and the place where I was borned. Old Mister DeWitt Wilson
give me a pear tree the next year after I was married, and it is still
out in my yard and bears every year.
I was married in a white and black checkedy calico apron that I
washed for Mr. Tim Walker's mother Lizzie all day for, over close to
Ft. Gibson, and I was sure a happy woman when I married that day. Him
and me both got our land on our Cherokee freedman blood and I have
lived to bury my husband and see two great grandchildren so far.
I bless God about Abraham Lincoln. I remember when my mammy sold
pictures of him in Fort Smith for a Jew. If he give me my freedom I
know he is in Heaven now.
I heard a lot about Jefferson Davis in my life. During the War we hear
the Negroes singing the soldier song about hand Jeff Davis to a apple
tree, and old Master tell about the time we know Jeff Davis. Old
Master say Jeff Davis was just a dragoon soldier out of Fort Gibson
when he bring his family out here from Tennessee, and while they was
on the road from Fort Smith to where they settled young Jeff Davis and
some more dragoon soldiers rid up and talked to him a long time. He
say my grandmammy had a bundle on her head, and Jeff Davis say, "Where
you going Aunty?" and she was tired and mad and she said, "I don't
know, to Hell I reckon", and all the white soldiers laughed at her and
made her that much madder.
I joined the Four Mile Branch church in 1879 and Sam Solomon was a
Creek negro and the first preacher I ever heard preach. Everybody
ought to be in the church and ready for that better home on the other
side.
All the old slaves I know are dead excepting two, and I will be going
pretty soon I reckon, but I'm glad I lived to see the day the Negroes
get the right treatment if they work good and behave themselves right.
They don't have to have no pass to walk abroad no more, and they can
all read and write now, but it's a tarnation shame some of them go and
read the wrong kind of things anyways.
Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
10-19-38
1,534 words
TOM W. WOODS
Age 83.
Alderson, Okla.
Lady, if de nigger hadn't been set free dis country wouldn't ever been
what it is now! Poor white folks wouldn't never had a chance. De slave
holders had most of de money and de land and dey wouldn't let de poor
white folks have a chance to own any land or anything else to speak
of. Dese white folks wasn't much better off den we was. Dey had to
work hard and dey had to worry 'bout food, clothes and shelter and we
didn't. Lots of slave owners wouldn't allow dem on deir farms among
deir slaves without orders from de overseer. I don't know why, unless
he was afraid dey would stir up discontent among de niggers. Dere was
lots of "underground railroading" and I rekon dat was what Old Master
and others was afraid of.
Us darkies was taught dat poor white folks didn't amount to much.
Course we knowed dey was white and we was black and dey was to be
respected for dat, but dat was about all.
White folks as well as niggers profited by emancipation. Lincoln was a
friend to all poor white folks as well as black ones and if he could
a' lived things would a'been different for ever'body.
Dis has been a good old world to live in. I always been able to make a
purty good living and de only trouble I ever had has been sickness and
death. I've had a sight of dat kind of trouble. I've outlived two
wives and eight children. I had 13 brothers and sisters and I was de
oldest, and I'm de only one left.
I sits here at night by myself and gits to wondering what de good
Lord is sparing me for. I reckon it's for some good reason, and I'd
like to live to be a hundred if He wants me to. I'm not tired of
living yet!
I was born in Florence, Alabama. My father's name was Thomas Woods and
my mammy was Frances Foster. Mammy belonged to Wash Foster and father
was owned by Moses Woods, who lived on an adjoining plantation. He
worked for his Master ever' day but spent each night wid us. He walked
'bout a mile to his work ever' day.
Master Wash was a poor man when he married Miss Sarah Watkins of
Richmond, Virginia. Her father was as rich as cream, he owned 7
plantations and 200 slaves to each plantation. When Master Wash and
Miss Sarah got married her father give her 50 slaves. Ever'body said
Miss Mary jest married Master Wash because he was a purty boy, and he
sure was a fine looking man.
He was good and kind to all his slaves when he was sober, but he was
awful crabbed and cross when he was drunk, and he was drunk most of de
time. He was hard to please and sometimes he would whip de slaves. I
remember seeing Master Wash whup two men once. He give 'em 200 lashes.
Miss Sarah was de best woman in de world. It takes a good woman to
live wid a drunkard.
Two of the men ran away one time and was gone till dey got tired of
staying away. Master Wash wouldn't let anyone hunt 'em. When dey
finally come home he had dem strapped in stocks and den deir bodies
bared to de waist and he sure did ply de lash. I guess he whupped 'em
harder dan he would if he hadn't been so full of whisky.
He never did sell any of his slaves. He kept the 50 dat Miss Sarah's
father give 'em and deir increase. He bought some ever' time dey had a
sale. He owned two plantations and dey was about a hundred slaves on
each one. Him and his family lived in town.
Me and a boy named John was sized and put to work when we was about
nine or ten years old. We was so bad dey had to put us to work as dey
couldn't do any thing else with us. We'd chase de pigs and ride de
calves and to punish us dey made us tote water to de hands. Dey was so
many hands to water dat it kept us busy running back and forth with de
water. De next year dey put me to plowing and him to hoeing. We made
regular hands from den on.
If we had behaved ourselves we wouldn't a'had to go to work till we
was fourteen or fifteen anyway. Slave owners was awful good to deir
nigger chaps for dey wanted 'em to grow up to be strong men and women.
Dey was about thirty children on our plantation. Two women looked
after us and took care of us till our parents come in from de field.
Dey cooked for us and always gave us our supper and sent us home to
our parents for de night.
Our food was placed on a long table in a trough. Each child had a
spoon and four of us eat out of one trough. Our food at night was
mostly milk and bread. At noon we had vegetables, bread, meat and
milk. He gave us more and better food than he did his field hands. He
said he didn't want none of us to be stunted in our growing.
He bought our shoes for us but cloth for our clothes was spun and wove
right there on de farm. In summer us boys wore long tailed shirts and
no pants. I've plowed dat way a many a day. We was glad to see it git
warm in de spring so we could go barefooted and go wid out our pants.
Our overseers lived near de quarters and every morning about four o'
clock dey'd blow a horn [HW: to] wake us up. We knowed it meant to git
up and start de day. We was in de field by de time we could see. We
always fed our teams at night. We'd give 'em enough to keep 'em eating
all night so we wouldn't have to feed 'em in de morning.
Master Wash Foster and his family lived in de finest house in
Florence, Ala. It was a fine, large two-story house, painted white as
nearly all de houses was in dem days. Dere was big gallery in front
and back and a fine lawn wid big cedar and chestnut trees all 'round
de house.
He had a fine carriage and a pair of spanking bays dat cost him $500
apiece. Old Monroe was his coachman and dey made a grand sight. Monroe
kept de nickel plated harness and carriage trimmings shining and de
team was brushed slick and clean and dey sure stepped out.
We lived on de plantation about eight miles from town and we liked for
de family to come out to de farm. Dey was four children, Wash, Jack,
Sarah and Sally and dey always played with us. When dey come we always
had a regular feast as dey children would eat wid us children. Dey had
dishes though to eat out of. After dinner we would run and play Peep
Squirrel. I think dey call it hide-and-seek now.
My mother was a regular field hand till Miss Sarah decided to take her
into town to take care of her children. Dey all called her Frank
instead of Frances. I used to get to go to town to visit my mother and
we'd have glorious times I tell you.
We'd go out and gather hickory nuts, hazel nuts, pig nuts, and
walnuts. We'd all set around de fire and eat nuts and tell ghost tales
ever' night. Master Wash raised lots of apples too, and we had all
that we wanted of dem to eat.
I saw lots of Yankee soldiers. Sherman and Grant's armies marched by
our house and camped at DeCatur, Ala. It took dem three days to pass.
We wasn't afraid of dem.
In the second year of de war some Yankee soldiers come through and
gathered up all de slaves and took us to Athens, Ala., and put us on a
Government farm. We stayed dere till de end of de War. My father died
jest before dey took us away.
My mother and us children were on de farm together and dey treated us
all mighty good. We had plenty of good food and clothes.
Master Wash came to see us while we was on de Government farm. He was
left in a bad shape and we was all sorry for him. A lot of his hands
went back to him after de Surrender but we never did. Mother married
another man named Goodloe and we all went to Arkansas, near Little
Rock. Dis was his former home. I was about nineteen or twenty years
old at this time.
I never sent to school. My wife taught me how to read de Bible but I
never learned to write. I have good eyesight. I guess dat is cause I
never put dem out reading and going to moving picture shows.
When any of my family was sick I always sent for de doctor. We had a
few of our own home remedies dat we used also. We boiled poke root and
bathed in it for a cure for rheumatism.
A tea made from May apples was used for a physic.
Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
ANNIE YOUNG
Age 86
Oklahoma City, Okla.
I was born in 1851, makes me 86 years old. I was born in Middle
Tennessee, Summers County. My mother was put on a block and sold from
me when I was a child. I don't remember my father real good. Sister
Martha, Sister Sallie, nor Sister Jane wasn't sold. But my brother
John was. My mother's name is Rachel Donnahue. We lived in a log hut.
The white folks lived in a frame white building sitting in a big grove
yard. Old master owned a big farm.
We ate molasses, bread and butter and milk in wooden bowls and
crumbled our bread up in it. Old master had big smokehouses of meat.
Dey ate chickens, possums and coons, and my old auntie would barbecue
rabbits for de white folks. We ate ash cakes too.
I washed dishes, swept de yard, and kept de yard clean wid weed brush
brooms. I never earned no money. All de slaves had gardens, and
chickens too. My auntie, dey let her have chickens of her own and she
raised chickens, and had a chicken house and garden down in de woods.
I remember in time of de War dey'd send me down in de woods to pick up
chips and git wood. All de men had gone to de army. One morning and
t'was cold dey sent me down in de woods and my hands got frostbitten.
All de skin come off and dey had to tie my hands up in roasted
turnips. Sallie she had gloves, and didn't get frostbitten. After my
old master died, Master Donnahue was his name, his old son-in-law come
to take over de plantation. He was mean, but my sister whipped him.
We had no nigger driver or overseer. We raised wheat, corn and
vegetables, not much cotton, jest enough to spun de clothes out of.
At night when we'd go to our cabins we'd pick cotton from de seeds to
make our clothes. Boys and girls alike wore dem long shirts slit up de
side nearly to your necks. They'd have cornshuckings sometimes all
night long. You see I didn't have no mother, no father, nobody to lead
me, teach me or tell me, and so jest lived with anybody was good
enough to let me stay and done what they did. They'd have log
rollings, with all de whiskey dey could drink.
I remember going to church, de Methodist Church dey call it. We used
to sing dis song and I sho did like it too:
"I went down in de valley to pray,
Studying dat good old way."
I been a Christian long before most of dese young niggers was born. My
other favorites are:
"Must Jesus bear This Cross Alone."
and
"The Consecrated Cross I'll Bear 'til
Death Shall Set Me Free,
Yea, There's a Crown for Everyone,
And There's a Crown for Me."
Yes Lawd, there sho is.
One day a nigger killed one of his master's shoats and he catch him
and when he'd ask him, "What's that you got there?" The nigger said,
"a possum." De master said, "Let me see." He looked and seen it was a
shoat. De nigger said, "Master it may be a shoat now, but it sho was a
possum while ago when I put 'im in dis sack."
Dey didn't whip our folks much, but one day I saw a overseer on
another place. He staked a man down with two forked sticks 'cross his
wrist nailed in de ground and beat him half to death with a hand saw
'til it drawed blisters. Den he mopped his back wid vinegar, salt and
pepper. Sometimes dey'd drop dat hot rosin from pine knots on dose
blisters.
When de Yanks come, business took place. I remember white folks was
running and hiding, gitting everything dey could from de Yanks. Dey
hid dey jewelry and fine dishes and such. Dose Yanks had on big boots.
Dey'd drive up, feed dey hosses from old Master's corn, catch dey
chickens, and tell old Master's cook to cook 'em, and they'd shoot
down old Master's hogs and skin 'em.
De Yanks used to make my nephew drunk, and have him sing (dis is kind
of bad):
"I'll be God O'Mighty
God Dammed if I don't
Kill a nigger,
Oh Whooey boys! Oh Whooey!
Oh Whooey boys! Oh Whooey!"
I don't remember never seeing no funerals. Jest took 'em off and
buried 'em. I remember dat old Master's son-in-law dat my sister
whipped, he called hisself a doctor and he killed Aunt Clo. Give her
some medicine but he didn't know what he was doing and killed her.
I married William Young and we had a pretty good wedding. Married in
Crittington County Arkansas. When I left Tennessee and went to
Arkansas I followed some hands. You know after de War dey immigrated
niggers from one place to another. I owned a good farm in Arkansas. I
came out here some 42 years ago.
I have three daughters. Mattie Brockins runs a rooming house in Kansas
City. Jessie Cotton, lives right up de street here. Osie Olla Anderson
is working out in North town.
Well I think Abraham Lincoln is more than a type a man than Moses. I
believe he is a square man, believe in union that every man has a
right to be a free man regardless to color. He was a republican man.
Don't know much 'bout Jeff Davis but I think Booker T. Washington was
a pretty good man. He's a right good man I guess, but he is dead ain't
he?
I can remember once my auntie's old Master tried to have her and she
run off out in de woods, and when he put those blood hounds or nigger
hounds on her trail he catched her and hit her in de head wid
something like de stick de police carry, and he knocked a hole in her
head and she bled like a hog, and he made her have him. She told her
mistress, and mistress told her to go ahead and be wid him 'cause he's
gonna kill you. And he had dem two women and she had some chillun
nearly white, and master and dey all worked in de fields side by side.