Klu Klux come to us house one night, but my daddy done hid. Den I hear
dem say dey gwine go kill old man Bart. I jump out de window and cut
short cut through dem wood and warn him. He git out de house in time and
I save he life. De funny thing, I knowed all dem Klu Klux. Spite dey
sheets and things, I knowed dey voices and dey saddle hosses.
"Dey one white man name Irving Ramsey. Us play fiddle together lots of
time. When de white boys dance dey allus wants me to go to play for dey
party. One day I say to dat boy, 'I done knowed you last night.' He say,
'What you mean?' I say, 'You one dem Klu Klux.' He want to know how I
know. I say, 'Member when you go under de chestnut tree and say, "Whoa,
Sont, whoa, Sont, to your hoss?" He say, 'Yes,' and I laugh and say,
'Well, I's right up in dat tree.' Dey all knowed I knowed dem den, but I
never told on dem. When dey seed I ain't gwineter tell, dey never try
whip my daddy or kill Uncle Bart no more.
"I ain't never been to school but I jes' picked up readin'. With some my
first money I ever earn I buy me a old blue-back Webster. I carry dat
book wherever I goes. When I plows down a row I stop at de end to rest
and den I overlook de lesson. I 'member one de very first lessons was,
'Evil communications 'rupts good morals.' I knowed de words 'evil' and
'good' and a white man 'splain de others. I been done use dat lesson all
my life.
"After us left de Pacolet River us stay in Atlanta a little while and
den I go on to Louisiana. I done lef' Spartanburg completely in '76 but
I didn't git into Texas till 1882. I fin'lly git to Brenham, Texas and
marry Rachel Pinchbeck two year after. Us was marry in church and have
seven chillen. Den us sep'rate. I been batching 'bout 20 year and I done
los' track mos' dem chillen. My gal, Lula, live in Beaumont, and Will,
he in Chicago.
"Every time I tells dese niggers I's from South Carolina dey all say,
'O, he bound to make a heap.' I could be a conjure doctor and make
plenty money, but dat ain't good. In slavery time dey's men like dat
'garded as bein' dangerous. Dey make charms and put bad mouth on you. De
old folks wears de rabbit foot or coon foot and sometime a silver dime
on a fishin' string to keep off de witches. Some dem old conjure people
make lots of money for charm 'gainst ruin or cripplin' or dry up de
blood. But I don't take up no truck with things like dat.
420093
[Illustration: Betty Farrow]
BETTY FARROW, 90, now living with a son on a farm in Moser Valley,
a Negro settlement ten miles northeast of Fort Worth on Texas
Highway No. 15, was born a slave to Mr. Alex Clark, plantation
owner in Patrick Co., Virginia.
"I's glad to tell what I knows, but yous have to 'scuse me, 'cause my
'collection am bad. I jus' don' 'member much, but I's bo'n on Masta Alex
Clark's plantation in Patrick County, Virginny, on June 28th, 1847.
Dat's what my mammy tol' me. You see, we cullud folks have no schoolin'
dem days and I can't read or write. I has to depen' on what folks tells
me.
"Masta Clark has right smart plantation in ole Virginny and he owns
'bout twenty other slaves dat wo'ked de big place. He had three girls
and four boys and when I's a chile we'uns played togedder and we'uns
'tached to each other all our lives.
"In mammy's family dere was five boys and four girls. I don' 'member my
pappy. When I's 'bout ten, I's set to work, peddalin' 'round de house.
"'bout three years 'fore de war marster sol' his plantation for to go to
Texas. I 'members de day we'uns started in three covered wagons, all
loaded. 'Twas celebration day for us chillun. We travels from daylight
to dark, 'cept to feed and res' de mules at noon. I don' rec'lec' how
long we was on de way, but 'twas long time and 'twarn't no celebration
towards de las'. After while we comes to Sherman, in Texas, to our new
farm.
"When we was dere 'bout a year, dere am heaps of trouble. Dere was a
neighbor, Shields, he's drivin' wood to town and goes n'cross masta's
yard and dey have arg'ments. One day we chillen playin' and masta
settin' on de front porch and Shields come up de road. Masta stops him
when he starts to cross de yard and de fust thing we knows, we hears
'bang' and dat Shields shoot de masta and we sees him fall. Dey sen's
young Alex for de doctor and he makes dat mule run like he never run
'fore. De doctor comes in de house and looks at de masta, and listens to
his heart and says, 'He am dead.' Dere was powerful sorrow in dat home.
"After dat, Masta Alex takes charge, and in 'bout one year, he says,
'We'uns goin' to Fort Worth.' So we goes, and if I rec'lec's right, dat
year de war started. After dat, dere was times dere wasn' enough to make
de clothes, but we'uns allus had plenty to eat, and we gives lots of
feed to de army mans.
"I don' 'member bein' tol' I's free. We'uns stayed right dere on de farm
'cause it was de only home we knew and no reason to go. I stays dere
till I's twenty-seven years ole, den I marries and my husban' rents
land. We'uns has ten chillun and sometimes we has to skimp, but we gets
on. When my husban' dies fifteen years ago, I comes here. I's allus been
too busy tendin' to my 'sponsibilities for to git in de debilmen' and
now I's happy, tendin' to my great gran'chile.
420147
JOHN FINNELY, 86, was born a slave to Martin Finnely, in Jackson
Co., Alabama. During the Civil War ten slaves escaped from the
Finnely plantation. Their success led John to escape. He joined the
Federal Army. John farmed from 1865 until 1917, then moved to Fort
Worth, Tex., and worked in packing plants until 1930. He now lives
at 2812 Cliff St., Fort Worth, his sole support a $17.00 monthly
pension.
"Alabama am de state where I's born and dat 86 year ago, in Jackson
County, on Massa Martin Finnely's plantation, and him owns 'bout 75
other slaves 'sides mammy and me. My pappy am on dat plantation but I
don't know him, 'cause mammy never talks 'bout him 'cept to say, 'He am
here.'
"Massa run de cotton plantation but raises stock and feed and corn and
cane and rations for de humans sich as us. It am diff'rent when I's a
young'un dan now. Den, it am needful for to raise everything yous need,
'cause dey couldn't 'pend on factory made goods. Dey could buy shoes and
clothes and sich, but we'uns could make dem so much cheaper.
"What we'uns make? 'Low me to 'collect a li'l. Let's see, we'uns make
shoes, and leather and clothes and cloth and grinds de meal. And we'uns
cures de meat, preserves de fruit and make 'lassas and brown sugar. All
de harness for de mules and de hosses is make and de carts for haulin'.
Am dat all? Oh, yes, massa make peach brandy and him have he own still.
"De work am 'vided 'twixt de cullud folks and us allus have certain
duties to do. I's am de field hand and befo' I's old 'nough for to do
dat, dey has me help with de chores and errands.
"Us have de cabins of logs with one room and one door and one window
hole and bunks for sleepin'. But no cookin' am done dere. It am done in
de cookhouse by de cooks for all us niggers and we'uns eats in de eatin'
shed. De rations am good, plain victuals and dere plenty of it and 'bout
twict a week dere somethin' for treat. Massa sho' am 'ticular 'bout
feedin', 'specially for de young'uns in de nursery. You see, dere am de
nursery for sich what needs care while dere mammies am a-workin'.
"Massa feed plenty and him 'mand plenty work. Dat cause heap of trouble
on dat plantation, 'cause whippin's am given and hard ones, too. Lots of
times at de end of de day I's so tired I's couldn't speak for to stop de
mule, I jus' have to lean back on de lines.
"Dis nigger never gits whupped 'cept for dis, befo' I's a field hand.
Massa use me for huntin' and use me for de gun rest. When him have de
long shot I bends over and puts de hands on de knees and massa puts his
gun on my back for to git de good aim. What him kills I runs and fotches
and carries de game for him. I turns de squirrels for him and dat
disaway: de squirrel allus go to udder side from de hunter and I walks
'round de tree and de squirrel see me and go to massa's side de tree and
he gits de shot.
"All dat not so bad, but when he shoots de duck in de water and I has to
fotch it out, dat give me de worryment. De fust time he tells me to go
in de pond I's skeert, powe'ful skeert. I takes off de shirt and pants
but there I stands. I steps in de water, den back 'gain, and 'gain.
Massa am gittin' mad. He say, 'Swim in dere and git dat duck.' 'Yes,
sar, massa,' I says, but I won't go in dat water till massa hit me some
licks. I couldn't never git use to bein' de water dog for de ducks.
"De worst whuppin' I seed was give to Clarinda. She hits massa with de
hoe 'cause he try 'fere with her and she try stop him. She am put on de
log and give 500 lashes. She am over dat log all day and when dey takes
her off, she am limp and act deadlike. For a week she am in de bunk. Dat
whuppin' cause plenty trouble and dere lots of arg'ments 'mong de white
folks 'round dere.
"We has some joyments on de plantation, no parties or dancin' but we has
de corn huskin' and de nigger fights. For de corn huskin' everybody come
to one place and dey gives de prize for findin' de red ear. On massa's
place de prize am brandy or you am 'lowed to kiss de gal you calls for.
While us huskin' us sing lots. No, no, I's not gwine sing any dem songs,
'cause I's forgit and my voice sound like de bray of de mule.
"De nigger fights am more for de white folks' joyment but de slaves am
'lowed to see it. De massas of plantations match dere niggers 'cording
to size and bet on dem. Massa Finnely have one nigger what weighs 'bout
150 pounds and him powerful good fighter and he like to fight. None
lasts long with him. Den a new niggers comes to fight him.
"Dat fight am held at night by de pine torch light. A ring am made by de
folks standin' 'round in de circle. Deys 'lowed to do anything with dey
hands and head and teeth. Nothin' barred 'cept de knife and de club. Dem
two niggers gits in de ring and Tom he starts quick, and dat new nigger
he starts jus' as quick. Dat 'sprise Tom and when dey comes togedder it
like two bulls--kersmash--it sounds like dat. Den it am hit and kick and
bite and butt anywhere and any place for to best de udder. De one on de
bottom bites knees or anything him can do. Dat's de way it go for half
de hour.
"Fin'ly dat new nigger gits Tom in de stomach with he knee and a lick
side de jaw at de same time and down go Tom and de udder nigger jumps on
him with both feets, den straddle him and hits with right, left, right,
left, right, side Tom's head. Dere Tom lay, makin' no 'sistance.
Everybody am saysin', 'Tom have met he match, him am done.' Both am
bleedin' and am awful sight. Well, dat new nigger 'laxes for to git he
wind and den Tom, quick like de flash, flips him off and jump to he feet
and befo' dat new nigger could git to he feet, Tom kicks him in de
stomach, 'gain and 'gain. Dat nigger's body start to quaver and he massa
say, 'Dat 'nough.' Dat de clostest Tom ever come to gittin' whupped what
I's know of.
"I becomes a runaway nigger short time after dat fight. De war am
started den for 'bout a year, or somethin' like dat, and de Fed'rals am
north of us. I hears de niggers talk 'bout it, and 'bout runnin' 'way to
freedom. I thinks and thinks 'bout gittin' freedom, and I's gwine run
off. Den I thinks of de patter rollers and what happen if dey cotches me
off de place without de pass. Den I thinks of some joyment sich as de
corn huskin' and de fights and de singin' and I don't know what to do. I
tells you one singin' but I can't sing it:
"'De moonlight, a shinin' star,
De big owl hootin' in de tree;
O, bye, my baby, ain't you gwineter sleep,
A-rockin' on my knee?
"'Bye, my honey baby,
A-rockin' on my knee,
Baby done gone to sleep,
Owl hush hootin' in de tree.
"'She gone to sleep, honey baby sleep,
A-rockin' on my, a-rockin' on my knee.'
"Now, back to de freedom. One night 'bout ten niggers run away. De next
day we'uns hears nothin', so I says to myself, 'De patters don't cotch
dem.' Den I makes up my mind to go and I leaves with de chunk of meat
and cornbread and am on my way, half skeert to death. I sho' has de eyes
open and de ears forward, watchin' for de patters. I steps off de road
in de night, at sight of anything, and in de day I takes to de woods. It
takes me two days to make dat trip and jus' once de patters pass me by.
I am in de thicket watchin' dem and I's sho' dey gwine search dat
thicket, 'cause dey stops and am a-talkin' and lookin' my way. Dey
stands dere for a li'l bit and den one comes my way. Lawd A-mighty! Dat
sho' look like de end, but dat man stop and den look and look. Den he
pick up somethin' and goes back. It am a bottle and dey all takes de
drink and rides on. I's sho' in de sweat and I don't tarry dere long.
"De Yanks am camped nere Bellfound and dere's where I gits to. 'Magine
my 'sprise when I finds all de ten runaway niggers am dere, too. Dat am
on a Sunday and on de Monday, de Yanks puts us on de freight train and
we goes to Stevenson, in Alabama. Dere, us put to work buildin'
breastworks. But after de few days, I gits sent to de headquarters at
Nashville, in Tennessee.
"I's water toter dere for de army and dere am no fightin' at first but
'fore long dey starts de battle. Dat battle am a 'sperience for me. De
noise am awful, jus' one steady roar of de guns and de cannons. De
window glass in Nashville am all shoke out from de shakement of de
cannons. Dere am dead mens all over de ground and lots of wounded and
some cussin' and some prayin'. Some am moanin' and dis and dat one cry
for de water and, God A-mighty, I don't want any sich 'gain. Dere am
men carryin' de dead off da field, but dey can't keep up with de
cannons. I helps bury de dead and den I gits sent to Murphysboro and
dere it am jus' de same.
"You knows when Abe Lincoln am shot? Well, I's in Nashville den and it
am near de end of de war and I am standin' on Broadway Street talkin'
with de sergeant when up walk a man and him shakes hands with me and
says, 'I's proud to meet a brave, young fellow like you.' Dat man am
Andrew Johnson and him come to be president after Abe's dead.
"I stays in Nashville when de war am over and I marries Tennessee House
in 1875 and she died July 10th, 1936. Dat make 61 year dat we'uns am
togedder. Her old missy am now livin' in Arlington Heights, right here
in Fort Worth and her name am Mallard and she come from Tennessee, too.
"I comes here from Tennessee 51 year ago and at fust I farms and den I
works for de packin' plants till dey lets me out, 'cause I's too old for
to do 'nough work for dem.
"I has eight boys and three girls, dat make eleven chillen, and dey
makin' scatterment all over de country so I's alone in my old age. I has
dat $17.00 de month pension what I gits from de State.
"Dat am de end of de road.
420031
[Illustration: Sarah Ford]
SARAH FORD, whose age is problematical, but who says, "I's been
here for a long time," lives in a small cottage at 3151 Clay St.,
Houston, Texas. Born on the Kit Patton plantation near West
Columbia, Texas, Aunt Sarah was probably about fifteen years old
when emancipated. She had eleven children, the first born during
the storm of 1875, at East Columbia, in which Sarah's mother and
father both perished.
"Law me, you wants me to talk 'bout slave times, and you is cotched me
'fore I's had my coffee dis mornin', but when you gits old as I is, talk
is 'bout all you can do, so 'scuse me whilst I puts de coffee pot on de
fire and tell you what I can.
"Now, what I tells you is de truth, 'cause I only told one little lie in
my whole life and I got cotched in it and got whipped both ways. Oh,
Lawd, I sho' never won't forget dat, mama sho' was mad. Mama sends me
over to Sally Ann, the cow woman, to get some milk and onions. I never
did like to borrow, so I comes back with the milk and tell mama Sally
Ann say she ain't got no onions for no Africans. Dat make mamma mad and
she goes tell dat Sally Ann Somethin'. She brung back de onions and say,
'You, Sarah, I'll larn you not to tell no lie.' She sho' give me a
hidin'.
"Now, I tells you 'bout de plantation what I's born on. You all knows
where West Columbia is at? Well, dat's right where I's born, on Massa
Kit Patton's Plantation, dey calls it de Hogg place now." (Owned by
children of Gov. Will Hogg.)
"Mamma and papa belongs to Massa Kit and mama born there, too. Folks
called her 'Little Jane,' 'cause she's no bigger'n nothing.
"Papa's name was Mike and he's a tanner and he come from Tennessee and
sold to Massa Kit by a nigger trader. He wasn't all black, he was part
Indian. I heared him say what tribe, but I can't 'lect now. When I's
growed mama tells me lots of things. She say de white folks don't let de
slaves what works in de field marry none, dey jus' puts a man and
breedin' woman together like mules. Iffen the women don't like the man
it don't make no diff'rence, she better go or dey gives her a hidin'.
"Massa Kit has two brothers, Massa Charles and Massa Matt, what lives at
West Columbia. Massa Kit on one side Varney's Creek and Massa Charles on
de other side. Massa Kit have a African woman from Kentucky for he wife,
and dat's de truth. I ain't sayin' iffen she a real wife or not, but all
de slaves has to call her 'Miss Rachel.' But iffen a bird fly up in de
sky it mus' come down sometime, and Rachel jus' like dat bird, 'cause
Massa Kit go crazy and die and Massa Charles take over de plantation and
he takes Rachel and puts her to work in de field. But she don't stay in
de field long, 'cause Massa Charles puts her in a house by herself and
she don't work no more.
"If us gits sick us call Mammy Judy. She de cook and iffen you puts a
sugar barrel 'long side her and puts a face on dat barrel, you sho'
can't tell it from her, she so round and fat. Iffen us git real sick dey
calls de doctor, but iffen it a misery in de stomach or jus' de flux,
Mammy Judy fix up some burr vine tea or horsemint tea. Dey de male burr
vine and de female burr vine and does a woman or gal git de misery, dey
gives 'em de female tea, and does a man, or boy chile git it, dey gives
him de male vine tea.
"Scuse me while I pours me some coffee. It sho' do fortify me. You know
what us drink for coffee in slave times? Parched meal, and it purty good
iffen you know's how.
"Us don't have much singin' on our place, 'cepting at church on Sunday.
Law me, de folks what works in de fields feels more like cryin' at
night. Us chillen used to sing dis:
"'Where you goin', buzzard,
Where you gwine to go?
I's goin' down to new ground,
For to hunt Jim Crow.'
"I guess Massa Charles, what taken us when Massa Kit die, was 'bout de
same as all white folks what owned slaves, some good and some bad. We
has plenty to eat--more'n I has now--and plenty clothes and shoes. But
de overseer was Uncle Big Jake, what's black like de rest of us, but he
so mean I 'spect de devil done make him overseer down below long time
ago. Dat de bad part of Massa Charles, 'cause he lets Uncle Jake whip de
slaves so much dat some like my papa what had spirit was all de time
runnin' 'way. And even does your stomach be full, and does you have
plenty clothes, dat bullwhip on your bare hide make you forgit de good
part, and dat's de truth.
"Uncle Big Jake sho' work de slaves from early mornin' till night. When
you is in de field you better not lag none. When its fallin' weather de
hands is put to work fixin' dis and dat. De woman what has li'l chillen
don't have to work so hard. Dey works 'round de sugar house and come 11
o'clock dey quits and cares for de babies till 1 o'clock, and den works
till 3 o'clock and quits.
"Massa Charles have a arbor and dat's where we has preachin'. One day
old Uncle Law preachin' and he say, 'De Lawd make everyone to come in
unity and on de level, both white and black.' When Massa Charles hears
'bout it, he don't like it none, and de next mornin' old Uncle Jake git
Uncle Law and put him out in de field with de rest.
"Massa Charles run dat plantation jus' like a factory. Uncle Cip was
sugar man, my papa tanner and Uncle John Austin, what have a wooden leg,
am shoemaker and make de shoes with de brass toes. Law me, dey heaps of
things go on in slave time what won't go on no more, 'cause de bright
light come and it ain't dark no more for us black folks. Iffen a nigger
run away and dey cotch him, or does he come back 'cause he hongry, I
seed Uncle Jake stretch him out on de ground and tie he hands and feet
to posts so he can't move none. Den he git de piece of iron what he call
de 'slut' and what is like a block of wood with little holes in it, and
fill de holes up with tallow and put dat iron in de fire till de grease
sizzlin' hot and hold it over de pore nigger's back and let dat hot
grease drap on he hide. Den he take de bullwhip and whip up and down,
and after all dat throw de pore nigger in de stockhouse and chain him up
a couple days with nothin' to eat. My papa carry de grease scars on he
back till he die.
"Massa Charles and Uncle Jake don't like papa, 'cause he ain't so black,
and he had spirit, 'cause he part Indian. Do somethin' go wrong and
Uncle Big Jake say he gwine to give papa de whippin', he runs off. One
time he gone a whole year and he sho' look like a monkey when he gits
back, with de hair standin' straight on he head and he face. Papa was
mighty good to mama and me and dat de only reason he ever come back
from runnin' 'way, to see us. He knowed he'd git a whippin' but he come
anyway. Dey never could cotch papa when he run 'way, 'cause he part
Indian. Massa Charles even gits old Nigger Kelly what lives over to
Sandy Point to track papa with he dogs, but papa wade in water and dey
can't track him.
"Dey knows papa is de best tanner 'round dat part de country, so dey
doesn't sell him off de place. I 'lect papa sayin' dere one place
special where he hide, some German folks, de name Ebbling, I think.
While he hides dere, he tans hides on de sly like and dey feeds him, and
lots of mornin's when us open de cabin door on a shelf jus' 'bove is
food for mama and me, and sometime store clothes. No one ain't see papa,
but dere it is. One time he brung us dresses, and Uncle Big Jake heered
'bout it and he sho' mad 'cause he can't cotch papa, and he say to mama
he gwine to whip her 'less she tell him where papa is. Mama say, 'Fore
God, Uncle Jake, I don't know, 'cause I ain't seed him since he run
'way,' and jus' den papa come 'round de corner of de house. He save mama
from de whippin' but papa got de hot grease drapped on him like I told
you Uncle Big Jake did, and got put in de stockhouse with shackles on
him, and kep' dere three days, and while he in dere mama has de goin'
down pains and my sister, Rachel, is born.
"When freedom come, I didn't know what dat was. I 'lect Uncle Charley
Burns what drive de buggy for Massa Charles, come runnin' out in de yard
and holler, 'Everybody free, everybody free,' and purty soon sojers
comes and de captain reads a 'mation. And, Law me, dat one time Massa
Charley can't open he mouth, 'cause de captain tell him to shut up, dat
he'd do de talkin'. Den de captain say, 'I come to tell you de slaves is
free and you don't have to call nobody master no more.' Well, us jus'
mill 'round like cattle do. Massa Charley say iffen us wants to stay
he'll pay us, all 'cepting my papa. He say, 'You can't stay here, 'cause
you is a bad 'fluence.'
"Papa left but come back with a wagon and mules what he borrows and
loads mama and my sister and me in and us go to East Columbia on de
Brazos river and settles down. Dey hires me out and us have our own
patch, too, and dat de fust time I ever seed any money. Papa builds a
cabin and a corn crib and us sho' happy, 'cause de bright light done
come and dey no more whippin's.
"One night us jus' finish eatin supper and someone holler 'Hello.' You
know who it was holler? Old Uncle Big Jake. De black folks all hated him
so dey wouldn't have no truck with him and he ask my papa could he stay.
Papa didn't like him none, 'cause he done treat papa so bad, but de old
devil jus' beg so hard papa takes him out to de corn crib and fix a
place for him and he stay most a month till he taken sick and died.
"I stays with papa and mama till I marries Wes Ford and I shows you how
de Lawd done give and take away. Wes and I has a cabin by ourselves near
papa's and I is jus' 'bout to have my first baby. De wind start blowin'
and it git harder and harder and right when its de worst de baby comes.
Dat in '75 and whilst I havin' my baby, de wind tear de cabin where mama
and papa is to pieces and kilt 'em. My sister Rachel was with me so she
wasn't kilt.
"Well, I can't complain, 'cause de Lawd sho' been good to me. Wes and
all 'cept four my chillen is dead now. I has six boys and five gals. But
de ones what is alive is pore like dey mammy. But I praises de Lawd
'cause de bright light am turned on.
420153