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| Transcriber's Note: |
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| I. Inconsistent punctuation has been silently corrected |
| throughout the book. |
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| II. Clear spelling mistakes have been corrected however, |
| inconsistent language usage (such as 'day' and 'dey') |
| has been maintained. A list of corrections is included |
| at the end of the book. |
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| III. The numbers at the start of each interview were stamped |
| into the original work and refer to the number of the |
| published interview in the context of the entire Slave |
| Narratives project. |
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| IV. Two handwritten notes have been retained and are |
| annotated as such. |
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SLAVE NARRATIVES
_A Folk History of Slavery in the United States
From Interviews with Former Slaves_
TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY
THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT
1936-1938
ASSEMBLED BY
THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT
WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION
FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
_Illustrated with Photographs_
WASHINGTON 1941
VOLUME XVI
TEXAS NARRATIVES
PART 1
Prepared by
the Federal Writers' Project of
the Works Progress Administration
for the State of Texas
INFORMANTS
Adams, Will 1
Adams, William 4
Adams, William M. 9
Allen, Sarah 12
Anderson, Andy 14
Anderson, George Washington (Wash) 17
Anderson, Willis 21
Armstrong, Mary 25
Arnwine, Stearlin 31
Ashley, Sarah 34
Babino, Agatha 37
Barclay, Mrs. John 39
Barker, John 42
Barnes, Joe 45
Barrett, Armstead 47
Barrett, Harriet 49
Bates, John 51
Beckett, Harrison 54
Bell, Frank 59
Bell, Virginia 62
Bendy, Edgar 66
Bendy, Minerva 68
Benjamin, Sarah 70
Bess, Jack 72
Betts, Ellen 75
Beverly, Charlotte 84
Black, Francis 87
Blanchard, Olivier 90
Blanks, Julia 93
Boles, Elvira 106
Bormer (Bonner), Betty 109
Boyd, Harrison 112
Boyd, Issabella 114
Boyd, James 117
Boykins, Jerry 121
Brackins, Monroe 124
Bradshaw, Gus 130
Brady, Wes 133
Branch, Jacob 137
Branch, William 143
Brim, Clara 147
Brooks, Sylvester 149
Broussard, Donaville 151
Brown, Fannie 154
Brown, Fred 156
Brown, James 160
Brown, Josie 163
Brown, Zek 166
Bruin, Madison 169
Bunton, Martha Spence 174
Butler, Ellen 176
Buttler, Henry H. 179
Byrd, William 182
Cain, Louis 185
Calhoun, Jeff 188
Campbell, Simp 191
Cape, James 193
Carruthers, Richard 197
Carter, Cato 202
Cauthern, Jack 212
Chambers, Sally Banks 214
Choice, Jeptha 217
Clark, Amos 220
Clark, Anne 223
Cole, Thomas 225
Coleman, Eli 236
Coleman, Preely 240
Collins, Harriet 242
Columbus, Andrew (Smoky) 246
Connally, Steve 249
Cormier, Valmar 252
Cornish, Laura 254
Crawford, John 257
Cumby, Green 260
Cummins, Tempie 263
Cunningham, Adeline 266
Daily, Will 269
Daniels, Julia Francis 273
Darling, Katie 278
Davenport, Carey 281
Davis, Campbell 285
Davis, William 289
Davison, Eli 295
Davison, Elige 298
Day, John 302
Denson, Nelsen 305
Duhon, Victor 307
ILLUSTRATIONS
Facing Page
Will Adams 1
William Adams 4
Mary Armstrong 25
Sterlin Arnwine 31
Sarah Ashley 34
Edgar and Minerva Bendy 66
Jack Bess's House 72
Jack Bess 72
Charlotte Beverly 84
Francis Black 87
Betty Bormer (Bonner) 109
Issabella Boyd 114
James Boyd 117
Monroe Brackins 124
Wes Brady 133
William Branch 143
Clara Brim 147
Sylvester Brooks 149
Donaville Broussard 151
Fannie Brown 154
Fred Brown 156
James Brown 160
Josie Brown 163
Zek Brown 166
Martha Spence Bunton 174
Ellen Butler 176
Simp Campbell 191
James Cape 193
Cato Carter 202
Amos Clark's Sorghum Mill 220
Amos Clark 220
Anne Clark 223
Preely Coleman 240
Steve Connally 249
Steve Connally's House 249
Valmar Cormier 252
John Crawford 257
Green Cumby 260
Tempie Cummins 263
Adeline Cunningham 266
Will Daily's House 269
Will Daily 269
Julia Francis Daniels 273
Katie Darling 278
Carey Davenport 281
Campbell Davis 285
Nelsen Denson 305
EX-SLAVE STORIES
(Texas)
420241
[Illustration: Will Adams]
WILL ADAMS was born in 1857, a slave of Dave Cavin, in Harrison
Co., Texas. He remained with the Cavins until 1885, then farmed for
himself. Will lives alone in Marshall, Texas, supported by a $13.00
monthly pension.
"My folks allus belongs to the Cavins and wore their name till after
'mancipation. Pa and ma was named Freeman and Amelia Cavin and Massa
Dave fotches them to Texas from Alabama, along with ma's mother, what we
called Maria.
"The Cavins allus thunk lots of their niggers and Grandma Maria say,
'Why shouldn't they--it was their money.' She say there was plenty
Indians here when they settled this country and they bought and traded
with them without killin' them, if they could. The Indians was poor
folks, jus' pilfer and loaf 'round all the time. The niggers was a heap
sight better off than they was, 'cause we had plenty to eat and a place
to stay.
"Young Massa Tom was my special massa and he still lives here. Old Man
Dave seemed to think more of his niggers than anybody and we thunk lots
of our white folks. My pa was leader on the farm, and there wasn't no
overseer or driver. When pa whip a nigger he needn't go to Massa Dave,
but pa say, 'Go you way, you nigger. Freeman didn't whip you for
nothin'.' Massa Dave allus believe pa, 'cause he tells the truth.
"One time a peddler come to our house and after supper he goes to see
'bout his pony. Pa done feed that pony fifteen ears of corn. The peddler
tell massa his pony ain't been fed nothin', and massa git mad and say,
'Be on you way iffen you gwine 'cuse my niggers of lyin'.'
"We had good quarters and plenty to eat. I 'members when I's jus'
walkin' round good pa come in from the field at night and taken me out
of bed and dress me and feed me and then play with me for hours. Him
bein' leader, he's gone from 'fore day till after night. The old heads
got out early but us young scraps slep' till eight or nine o'clock, and
don't you think Massa Dave ain't comin' round to see we is fed. I
'members him like it was yest'day, comin' to the quarters with his stick
and askin' us, 'Had your breakfas'?' We'd say, 'Yes, suh.' Then he'd ask
if we had 'nough or wanted any more. It look like he taken a pleasure in
seein' us eat. At dinner, when the field hands come in, it am the same
way. He was sho' that potlicker was fill as long as the niggers want to
eat.
"The hands worked from sun to sun. Massa give them li'l crops and let
them work them on Saturday. Then he bought the stuff and the niggers go
to Jefferson and buy clothes and sech like. Lots saved money and bought
freedom 'fore the war was over.
"We went to church and first the white preacher preached and then he
larns our cullud preachers. I seed him ordain a cullud preacher and he
told him to allus be honest. When the white preacher laid his hand on
him, all the niggers git to hollerin' and shoutin' and prayin' and that
nigger git scart mos' to death.
"On Christmas we had all we could eat and drink and after that a big
party, and you ought to see them gals swingin' they partners round. Then
massa have two niggers wrestle, and our sports and dances was big sport
for the white folks. They'd sit on the gallery and watch the niggers put
it on brown.
"Massa didn't like his niggers to marry off the place, but sometimes
they'd do it, and massa tell his neighbor, 'My nigger am comin' to you
place. Make him behave.' All the niggers 'haved then and they wasn't no
Huntsville and gallows and burnin's then.
"Old massa went to war with his boy, Billie. They's lots of cryin' and
weepin' when they sot us free. Lots of them didn't want to be free,
'cause they knowed nothin' and had nowhere to go. Them what had good
massas stayed right on.
"I 'members when that Ku Klux business starts up. Smart niggers causes
that. The carpet-baggers ruint the niggers and the white men couldn't do
a thing with them, so they got up the Ku Klux and stirs up the world.
Them carpet-baggers come round larnin' niggers to sass the white folks
what done fed them. They come to pa with that talk and he told them,
'Listen, white folks, you is gwine start a graveyard if you come round
here teachin' niggers to sass white folks." Them carpet-baggers starts
all the trouble at 'lections in Reconstruction. Niggers didn't know
anythin' 'bout politics.
"Mos' the young niggers ain't usin' the education they got now. I's been
here eighty years and still has to be showed and told by white folks.
These young niggers won't git told by whites or blacks either. They
thinks they done knowed it all and that gits them in trouble.
"I stays with the Cavins mos' twenty years after the war. After I
leaves, I allus farms and does odd jobs round town here. I's father of
ten chillen by one woman. I lives by myself now and they gives me $13.00
a month. I'd be proud to git it if it wasn't more'n a dollar, 'cause
they ain't nothin' a old man can do no more.
420055
[Illustration: William Adams]
WILLIAM ADAMS, 93, was born in slavery, with no opportunity for an
education, except three months in a public school. He has taught
himself to read and to write. His lifelong ambition has been to
become master of the supernatural powers which he believes to
exist. He is now well-known among Southwestern Negroes for his
faith in the occult.
"Yous want to know and talk about de power de people tells you I has.
Well, sit down here, right there in dat chair, befo' we'uns starts. I
gits some ice water and den we'uns can discuss de subject. I wants to
'splain it clearly, so yous can understand.
"I's born a slave, 93 years ago, so of course I 'members de war period.
Like all de other slaves I has no chance for edumacation. Three months
am de total time I's spent going to school. I teached myself to read and
write. I's anxious to larn to read so I could study and find out about
many things. Dat, I has done.
"There am lots of folks, and edumacated ones, too, what says we'uns
believes in superstition. Well, its 'cause dey don't understand. 'Member
de Lawd, in some of His ways, can be mysterious. De Bible says so. There
am some things de Lawd wants all folks to know, some things jus' de
chosen few to know, and some things no one should know. Now, jus' 'cause
yous don't know 'bout some of de Lawd's laws, 'taint superstition if
some other person understands and believes in sich.
"There is some born to sing, some born to preach, and some born to know
de signs. There is some born under de power of de devil and have de
power to put injury and misery on people, and some born under de power
of de Lawd for to do good and overcome de evil power. Now, dat produces
two forces, like fire and water. De evil forces starts de fire and I has
de water force to put de fire out.
"How I larnt sich? Well, I's done larn it. It come to me. When de Lawd
gives sich power to a person, it jus' comes to 'em. It am 40 years ago
now when I's fust fully realize' dat I has de power. However, I's allus
int'rested in de workin's of de signs. When I's a little piccaninny, my
mammy and other folks used to talk about de signs. I hears dem talk
about what happens to folks 'cause a spell was put on 'em. De old folks
in dem days knows more about de signs dat de Lawd uses to reveal His
laws den de folks of today. It am also true of de cullud folks in
Africa, dey native land. Some of de folks laughs at their beliefs and
says it am superstition, but it am knowin' how de Lawd reveals His laws.
"Now, let me tell yous of something I's seen. What am seen, can't be
doubted. It happens when I's a young man and befo' I's realize' dat I's
one dat am chosen for to show de power. A mule had cut his leg so bad
dat him am bleedin' to death and dey couldn't stop it. An old cullud man
live near there dat dey turns to. He comes over and passes his hand over
de cut. Befo' long de bleedin' stop and dat's de power of de Lawd
workin' through dat nigger, dat's all it am.
"I knows about a woman dat had lost her mind. De doctor say it was
caused from a tumor in de head. Dey took an ex-ray picture, but dere's
no tumor. Dey gives up and says its a peculiar case. Dat woman was took
to one with de power of de good spirit and he say its a peculiar case
for dem dat don't understand. Dis am a case of de evil spell. Two days
after, de woman have her mind back.
"Dey's lots of dose kind of cases de ord'nary person never hear about.
Yous hear of de case de doctors can't understand, nor will dey 'spond to
treatment. Dat am 'cause of de evil spell dat am on de persons.
"'Bout special persons bein' chosen for to show de power, read yous
Bible. It says in de book of Mark, third chapter, 'and He ordained
twelve, dat dey should be with Him, dat He might send them forth to
preach and to have de power to heal de sick and to cast out devils.' If
it wasn't no evil in people, why does de Lawd say, 'cast out sich?' And
in de fifth chapter of James, it further say, 'If any am sick, let him
call de elders. Let dem pray over him. De prayers of faith shall save
him.' There 'tis again, Faith, dat am what counts.
"When I tells dat I seen many persons given up to die, and den a man
with de power comes and saves sich person, den its not for people to say
it am superstition to believe in de power.
"Don't forgit--de agents of de devil have de power of evil. Dey can put
misery of every kind on people. Dey can make trouble with de work and
with de business, with de fam'ly and with de health. So folks mus' be on
de watch all de time. Folks has business trouble 'cause de evil power
have control of 'em. Dey has de evil power cast out and save de
business. There am a man in Waco dat come to see me 'bout dat. He say to
me everything he try to do in de las' six months turned out wrong. It
starts with him losin' his pocketbook with $50.00 in it. He buys a
carload of hay and it catch fire and he los' all of it. He spends
$200.00 advertisin' de three-day sale and it begin to rain, so he los'
money. It sho' am de evil power.
"'Well,' he say, 'Dat am de way it go, so I comes to you.'
"I says to him, 'Its de evil power dat have you control and we'uns shall
cause it to be cast out.' Its done and he has no more trouble.
"You wants to know if persons with de power for good can be successful
in castin' out devils in all cases? Well, I answers dat, yes and no. Dey
can in every case if de affected person have de faith. If de party not
have enough faith, den it am a failure.
"Wearin' de coin for protection 'gainst de evil power? Dat am simple.
Lots of folks wears sich and dey uses mixtures dat am sprinkled in de
house, and sich. Dat am a question of faith. If dey has de true faith in
sich, it works. Otherwise, it won't.
"Some folks won't think for a minute of goin' without lodestone or de
salt and pepper mixture in de little sack, tied round dey neck. Some
wears de silver coin tied round dey neck. All sich am for to keep away
de effect of de evil power. When one have de faith in sich and dey
acc'dently lose de charm, dey sho' am miserable.
"An old darky dat has faith in lodestone for de charm told me de
'sperience he has in Atlanta once. He carryin' de hod and de fust thing
he does am drop some brick on he foot. De next thing, he foot slip as
him starts up de ladder and him and de bricks drap to de ground. It am
lucky for him it wasn't far. Jus' a sprain ankle and de boss sends him
home for de day. He am 'cited and gits on de street car and when de
conductor call for de fare, Rufus reaches for he money but he los' it
or fergits it at home. De conductor say he let him pay nex' time and
asks where he live. Rufus tells him and he say, 'Why, nigger, you is on
de wrong car.' Dat cause Rufus to walk further with de lame foot dan if
he started walkin' in de fust place. He thinks there mus' be something
wrong with he charm, and he look for it and it gone! Sho' 'nough, it am
los'. He think, 'Here I sits all day, and I won't make another move till
I gits de lodestone. When de chillen comes from school I sends dem to de
drugstore for some of de stone and gits fixed.'
"Now, now, I's been waitin' for dat one 'bout de black cat crossin' de
road, and, sho' 'nough, it come. Let me ask you one. How many people can
yous find dat likes to have de black cat cross in front of 'em? Dat's
right, no one likes dat. Let dis old cullud person inform yous dat it am
sho' de bad luck sign. It is sign of bad luck ahead, so turn back. Stop
what yous doin'.
"I's tellin' yous of two of many cases of failure to took warnin' from
de black cat. I knows a man call' Miller. His wife and him am takin' an
auto ride and de black cat cross de road and he cussed a little and goes
on. Den it's not long till he turns de corner and his wife falls out of
de car durin' de turn. When he goes back and picks her up, she am dead.
"Another fellow, call' Brown, was a-ridin' hossback and a black cat
cross de path, but he drives on. Well, its not long till him hoss
stumble and throw him off. De fall breaks his leg, so take a
warnin'--don't overlook de black cat. Dat am a warnin'.
420192
WILLIAM M. ADAMS, spiritualist preacher and healer, who lives at
1404 Illinois Ave., Ft. Worth, Texas, was born a slave on the James
Davis plantation, in San Jacinto Co., Texas. After the war he
worked in a grocery, punched cattle, farmed and preached. He moved
to Ft. Worth in 1902.
"I was bo'n 93 years ago, dat is whut my mother says. We didn' keep no
record like folks does today. All I know is I been yere a long time. My
mother, she was Julia Adams and my father he was James Adams. She's bo'n
in Hollis Springs, Mississippi and my father, now den, he was bo'n in
Florida. He was a Black Creek Indian. Dere was 12 of us chillen. When I
was 'bout seven de missus, she come and gits me for her servant. I lived
in de big house till she die. Her and Marster Davis was powerful good to
me.
"Marster Davis he was a big lawyer and de owner of a plantation. But all
I do was wait on ole missus. I'd light her pipe for her and I helped her
wid her knittin'. She give me money all de time. She had a little trunk
she keeped money in and lots of times I'd have to pack it down wid my
feets.
"I dis'member jus' how many slaves dere was, but dere was more'n 100. I
saw as much as 100 sold at a time. When dey tuk a bunch of slaves to
trade, dey put chains on 'em.
"De other slaves lived in log cabins back of de big house. Dey had dirt
floors and beds dat was made out of co'n shucks or straw. At nite dey
burned de lamps for 'bout an hour, den de overseers, dey come knock on
de door and tell 'em put de light out. Lots of overseers was mean.
Sometimes dey'd whip a nigger wid a leather strap 'bout a foot wide and
long as your arm and wid a wooden handle at de end.
"On Sat'day and Sunday nites dey'd dance and sing all nite long. Dey
didn' dance like today, dey danced de roun' dance and jig and do de
pigeon wing, and some of dem would jump up and see how many time he
could kick his feets 'fore dey hit de groun'. Dey had an ole fiddle and
some of 'em would take two bones in each hand and rattle 'em. Dey sang
songs like, 'Diana had a Wooden Leg,' and 'A Hand full of Sugar,' and
'Cotton-eyed Joe.' I dis'member how dey went.
"De slaves didn' have no church den, but dey'd take a big sugar kettle
and turn it top down on de groun' and put logs roun' it to kill de
soun'. Dey'd pray to be free and sing and dance.
"When war come dey come and got de slaves from all de plantations and
tuk 'em to build de breastworks. I saw lots of soldiers. Dey'd sing a
song dat go something like dis:
"'Jeff Davis rode a big white hoss,
Lincoln rode a mule;
Jess Davis is our President,
Lincoln is a fool.'
"I 'member when de slaves would run away. Ole John Billinger, he had a
bunch of dogs and he'd take after runaway niggers. Sometimes de dogs
didn' ketch de nigger. Den ole Billinger, he'd cuss and kick de dogs.
"We didn' have to have a pass but on other plantations dey did, or de
paddlerollers would git you and whip you. Dey was de poor white folks
dat didn' have no slaves. We didn' call 'em white folks dem days. No,
suh, we called dem' Buskrys.'
"Jus' fore de war, a white preacher he come to us slaves and says: 'Do
you wan' to keep you homes whar you git all to eat, and raise your
chillen, or do you wan' to be free to roam roun' without a home, like de
wil' animals? If you wan' to keep you homes you better pray for de South
to win. All day wan's to pray for de South to win, raise the
hand.' We all raised our hands 'cause we was skeered not to, but we sho'
didn' wan' de South to win.
"Dat night all de slaves had a meetin' down in de hollow. Ole Uncle
Mack, he gits up and says: 'One time over in Virginny dere was two ole
niggers, Uncle Bob and Uncle Tom. Dey was mad at one 'nuther and one day
dey decided to have a dinner and bury de hatchet. So day sat
down, and when Uncle Bob wasn't lookin' Uncle Tom put some poison in
Uncle Bob's food, but he saw it and when Uncle Tom wasn't lookin', Uncle
Bob he turned de tray roun' on Uncle Tom, and he gits de poison food.'
Uncle Mack, he says: 'Dat's what we slaves is gwine do, jus' turn de
tray roun' and pray for de North to win.'
"After de war dere was a lot of excitement 'mong de niggers. Dey was
rejoicin' and singin'. Some of 'em looked puzzled, sorter skeered like.
But dey danced and had a big jamboree.
"Lots of 'em stayed and worked on de halves. Others hired out. I went to
work in a grocery store and he paid me $1.50 a week. I give my mother de
dollar and keeped de half. Den I got married and farmed for awhile. Den
I come to Fort Worth and I been yere since.
420198
SARAH ALLEN was born a slave of John and Sally Goodren, in the Blue
Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Before the Civil War, her owners came
to Texas, locating near a small town then called Freedom. She lives
at 3322 Frutas St., El Paso, Texas.
"I was birthed in time of bondage. You know, some people are ashamed to
tell it, but I thank God I was 'llowed to see them times as well as now.
It's a pretty hard story, how cruel some of the marsters was, but I had
the luck to be with good white people. But some I knew were put on the
block and sold. I 'member when they'd come to John Goodren's place to
buy, but he not sell any. They'd have certain days when they'd sell off
the block and they took chillen 'way from mothers, screamin' for dere
chillen.
"I was birthed in ole Virginia in de Blue Ridge Mountains. When de white
people come to Texas, de cullud people come with them. Dat's been a long
time.
"My maw was named Charlotte, my paw Parks Adams. He's a white man. I
guess I'm about eighty some years ole.
"You know, in slavery times when dey had bad marsters dey'd run away,
but we didn' want to. My missus would see her people had something good
to eat every Sunday mornin'. You had to mind your missus and marster and
you be treated well. I think I was about twelve when dey freed us and we
stayed with marster 'bout a year, then went to John Ecols' place and
rented some lan'. We made two bales of cotton and it was the first money
we ever saw.
"Back when we lived with Marster Goodren we had big candy pullin's.
Invite everybody and play. We had good times. De worst thing, we didn'
never have no schoolin' till after I married. Den I went to school two
weeks. My husban' was teacher. He never was a slave. His father bought
freedom through a blacksmith shop, some way.
"I had a nice weddin'. My dress was white and trimmed with blue ribbon.
My second day dress was white with red dots. I had a beautiful veil and
a wreath and 'bout two, three waiters for table dat day.
"My mother was nearly white. Brighter than me. We lef' my father in
Virginia. I was jus' as white as de chillen I played with. I used to be
plum bright, but here lately I'm gettin' awful dark.
"My husban' was of a mixture, like you call bright ginger-cake color. I
don' know where he got his learnin'. I feel so bad since he's gone to
Glory.
"Now I'm ole, de Lord has taken care of me. He put that spirit in people
to look after ole folks and now my chillen look after me. I've two sons,
one name James Allen, one R.M. Both live in El Paso.
"After we go to sleep, de people will know these things, 'cause if
freedom hadn' come, it would have been so miserable.
420149
ANDY ANDERSON, 94, was born a slave of Jack Haley, who owned a
plantation in Williamson Co., Texas. During the Civil War, Andy was
sold to W.T. House, of Blanco County, who in less than a year sold
Andy to his brother, John House. Andy now lives with his third wife
and eight of his children at 301 Armour St., Fort Worth, Texas.
"My name am Andy J. Anderson, and I's born on Massa Jack Haley's
plantation in Williamson County, Texas, and Massa Haley owned my folks
and 'bout twelve other families of niggers. I's born in 1843 and that
makes me 94 year old and 18 year when de war starts. I's had 'speriences
durin' dat time.
"Massa Haley am kind to his cullud folks, and him am kind to everybody,
and all de folks likes him. De other white folks called we'uns de petted
niggers. There am 'bout 30 old and young niggers and 'bout 20
piccaninnies too little to work, and de nuss cares for dem while dey
mammies works.
"I's gwine 'splain how it am managed on Massa Haley's plantation. It am
sort of like de small town, 'cause everything we uses am made right
there. There am de shoemaker and he is de tanner and make de leather
from de hides. Den massa has 'bout a thousand sheep and he gits de wool,
and de niggers cards and spins and weaves it, and dat makes all de
clothes. Den massa have cattle and sich purvide de milk and de butter
and beef meat for eatin'. Den massa have de turkeys and chickens and de
hawgs and de bees. With all that, us never was hongry.
"De plantation am planted in cotton, mostly, with de corn and de wheat a
little, 'cause massa don't need much of dem. He never sell nothin' but
de cotton.
"De livin' for de cullud folks am good. De quarters am built from logs
like deys all in dem days. De floor am de dirt but we has de benches and
what is made on de place. And we has de big fireplace for to cook and we
has plenty to cook in dat fireplace, 'cause massa allus 'lows plenty
good rations, but he watch close for de wastin' of de food.
"De war breaks and dat make de big change on de massas place. He jines
de army and hires a man call' Delbridge for overseer. After dat, de hell
start to pop, 'cause de first thing Delbridge do is cut de rations. He
weighs out de meat, three pound for de week, and he measure a peck of
meal. And 'twarn't enough. He half starve us niggers and he want mo'
work and he start de whippin's. I guesses he starts to edumacate 'em. I
guess dat Delbridge go to hell when he died, but I don't see how de
debbil could stand him.
"We'uns am not use' to sich and some runs off. When dey am cotched there
am a whippin' at de stake. But dat Delbridge, he sold me to Massa House,
in Blanco County. I's sho' glad when I's sold, but it am short gladness,
'cause here am another man what hell am too good for. He gives me de
whippin' and de scars am still on my arms and my back, too. I'll carry
dem to my grave. He sends me for firewood and when I gits it loaded, de
wheel hits a stump and de team jerks and dat breaks de whippletree. So
he ties me to de stake and every half hour for four hours, dey lays ta
lashes on my back. For de first couple hours de pain am awful. I's never
forgot it. Den I's stood so much pain I not feel so much and when dey
takes me loose, I's jus' 'bout half dead. I lays in de bunk two days,
gittin' over dat whippin', gittin' over it in de body but not de heart.
No, suh, I has dat in de heart till dis day.
"After dat whippin' I doesn't have de heart to work for de massa. If I
seed de cattle in de cornfield, I turns de back, 'stead of chasin' 'em
out. I guess dat de reason de massa sold me to his brother, Massa John.
And he am good like my first massa, he never whipped me.
"Den surrender am 'nounced and massa tells us we's free. When dat takes
place, it am 'bout one hour by sun. I says to myself, 'I won't be here
long.' But I's not realise what I's in for till after I's started, but I
couldn't turn back. For dat means de whippin' or danger from de patter
rollers. Dere I was and I kep' on gwine. No nigger am sposed to be off
de massa's place without de pass, so I travels at night and hides durin'
de daylight. I stays in de bresh and gits water from de creeks, but not
much to eat. Twice I's sho' dem patter rollers am passin' while I's
hidin'.
"I's 21 year old den, but it am de first time I's gone any place, 'cept
to de neighbors, so I's worried 'bout de right way to Massa Haley's
place. But de mornin' of de third day I comes to he place and I's so
hongry and tired and scairt for fear Massa Haley not home from de army
yit. So I finds my pappy and he hides me in he cabin till a week and den
luck comes to me when Massa Haley come home. He come at night and de
next mornin' dat Delbridge am shunt off de place, 'cause Massa Haley
seed he niggers was all gaunt and lots am ran off and de fields am not
plowed right, and only half de sheep and everything left. So massa say
to dat Delbridge, 'Dere am no words can 'splain what yous done. Git off
my place 'fore I smashes you.'
"Den I kin come out from my pappy's cabin and de old massa was glad to
see me, and he let me stay till freedom am ordered. Dat's de happies'
time in my life, when I gits back to Massa Haley.
420317
Dibble, Fred, P.W., Beehler, Rheba, P.W., Beaumont, Jefferson, Dist. #3.
A frail sick man, neatly clad in white pajamas lying patiently in a
clean bed awaiting the end which does not seem far away. Although
we protested against his talking, because of his weakness, he told
a brief story of his life in a whisper, his breath very short and
every word was spoken with great effort. His light skin and his
features denote no characteristic of his race, has a bald head with
a bit of gray hair around the crown and a slight growth of gray
whiskers about his face, is medium in height and build. WASH
ANDERSON, although born in Charleston, S.C., has spent practically
all of his life in Texas [Handwritten Note: (Beaumont, Texas--]
"Mos' folks call me Wash Anderson, but dey uster call me George. My
whole name' George Washington Anderson. I was bo'n in Charleston, Sou'f
Ca'lina in 1855. Bill Anderson was my ol' marster. Dey was two boy' and
two gal' in his family. We all lef' Charleston and come to Orange,
Texas, befo' freedom come. I was fo' year' ol' when dey mek dat trip."
"I don' 'member nuttin' 'bout Charleston. You see where I was bo'n was
'bout two mile' from de city. I went back one time in 1917, but I didn'
stay dere long."
"My pa was Irvin' Anderson and my mommer was name' Eliza. Ol' marster
was pretty rough on his niggers. Dey tell me he had my gran'daddy beat
to death. Dey never did beat me."
"Dey made de trip from Charleston 'cross de country and settle' in
Duncan's Wood' down here in Orange county. Dey had a big plantation
dere. I dunno if ol' marster had money back in Charleston, but I t'ink
he must have. He had 'bout 25 or 30 slaves on de place."
"Ol' man Anderson he had a big two-story house. It was buil' out of logs
but it was a big fine house. De slaves jis' had little log huts. Dere
warn't no flo's to 'em, nuthin' but de groun'. Dem little huts jis' had
one room in 'em. Dey was one family to de house, 'cep'n' sometime dey
put two or t'ree family' to a house. Dey jis' herd de slaves in dere
like a bunch of pigs."
"Dey uster raise cotton, and co'n, and sugar cane, and sich like, but
dey didn' uster raise no rice. Dey uster sen' stuff to Terry on a
railroad to sen' it to market. Sometime dey hitch up dey teams and sen'
it to Orange and Beaumont in wagons. De ol' marster he had a boat, too,
and sometime he sen' a boatload of his stuff to Beaumont."
"My work was to drive de surrey for de family and look atter de hosses
and de harness and sich. I jis' have de bes' hosses on de place to see
atter."
"I saw lots of sojers durin' de war. I see 'em marchin' by, goin' to
Sabine Pass 'bout de time of dat battle."
"Back in slavery time dey uster have a white preacher to come 'roun' and
preach to de cullud folks. But I don't 'member much 'bout de songs what
dey uster sing."
"I play 'roun' right smart when I was little. Dey uster have lots of fun
playin' 'hide and seek,' and 'hide de switch.' We uster ride stick
hosses and play 'roun' at all dem t'ings what chillun play at."
"Dey had plenty of hosses and mules and cows on de ol' plantation. I had
to look atter some of de hosses, but dem what I hatter look atter was
s'pose to be de bes' hosses in de bunch. Like I say, I drive de surrey
and dey allus have de bes' hosses to pull dat surrey. Dey had a log
stable. Dey kep' de harness in dere, too. Eb'ryt'ing what de stock eat
dey raise on de plantation, all de co'n and fodder and sich like."
"Atter freedom come I went 'roun' doin' dif'rent kind of work. I uster
work on steamboats, and on de railroad and at sawmillin'. I was a sawyer
for a long, long time. I work 'roun' in Lou'sana and Arkansas, and
Oklahoma, as well as in Texas. When I wasn't doin' dem kinds of work, I
uster work 'roun' at anyt'ing what come to han'. I 'member one time I
was workin' for de Burr Lumber Company at Fort Townsend up dere in
Arkansas."
"When I was 'bout 36 year' ol' I git marry. I been married twice. My
fus' wife was name' Hannah and Reverend George Childress was de preacher
dat marry us. He was a cullud preacher. Atter Hannah been dead some time
I marry my secon' wife. Her name was Tempie Perkins. Later on, us
sep'rate. Us sep'rate on 'count of money matters."
"I b'longs to de Baptis' Chu'ch. Sometime' de preacher come 'roun' and
see me. He was here a few days ago dis week."
_"UNCLE WILLIS ANDERSON"_
_REFERENCES_
A. Coronado's Children--J. Frank Dobie, Pub. 1929, Austin, Tex.
B. Leon County News--Centerville, Texas--Thursday May 21, 1936.
C. Consultant--Uncle Willis Anderson, resident of Centerville, Tex, born
April 15, 1844.
An interesting character at Centerville, Texas, is "Uncle Willis"
Anderson, an ex-slave, born April 15, 1844, 6 miles west of Centerville
on the old McDaniels plantation near what is now known as Hopewell
Settlement. It is generally said that "Uncle Willis" is one of the
oldest living citizens in the County, black or white. He is referred to
generally for information concerning days gone by and for the history of
that County, especially in the immediate vicinity of Centerville.
"Uncle Willis" is an interesting figure. He may be found sitting on the
porches of the stores facing Federal Highway No. 75, nodding or
conversing with small groups of white or colored people that gather
around him telling of the days gone by. He also likes to watch the
busses and automobiles that pass through the small town musing and
commenting on the swiftness of things today. Uncle Willis still
cultivates a small patch five miles out from the town.
"Uncle Willis" is a tall dark, brown-skinned man having a large head
covered with mixed gray wooly hair. He has lost very few teeth
considering his age. When sitting on the porches of the stores the soles
of his farm-shoes may be seen tied together with pieces of wire. He
supports himself with a cane made from the Elm tree. At present he wears
a tall white Texas Centennial hat which makes him appear more unique
than ever.
"Uncle Willis'" memory is vivid. He is familiar with the older figures
in the history of the County. He tells tales of having travelled by oxen
to West Texas for flour and being gone for six months at a time. He
remembers the Keechi and the Kickapoo Indians and also claims that he
can point out a tree where the Americans hung an Indian Chief. He says
that he has plowed up arrows, pots and flints on the Reubens Bains place
and on the McDaniel farms. He can tell of the early lawlessness in the
County. His face lights up when he recalls how the Yankee soldiers came
through Centerville telling the slave owners to free their slaves. He
also talks very low when he mentions the name of Jeff Davis because he
says, "Wha' man eavesdrops the niggers houses in slavery time and if
yer' sed' that Jeff Davis was a good man, they barbecued a hog for you,
but if yer' sed' that Abe Lincoln was a good man, yer' had to fight or
go to the woods."
Among the most interesting tales told by "Uncle Willis" is the tale of
the "Lead mine." "Uncle Willis" says that some where along Boggy Creek
near a large hickory tree and a red oak tree, near Patrick's Lake, he
and his master, Auss McDaniels, would dig lead out of the ground which
they used to make pistol and rifle balls for the old Mississippi rifles
during slavery time. Uncle Willis claims that they would dig slags of
lead out of the ground some 12 and 15 inches long, and others as large
as a man's fist. They would carry this ore back to the big house and
melt it down to get the trash out of it, then they would pour it into
molds and make rifle balls and pistol balls from it. In this way they
kept plenty of amunition on hand. In recent years the land has changed
ownership, and the present owners live in Dallas. Learning of the tale
of the "lead mine" on their property they went to Centerville in an
attempt to locate it and were referred to "Uncle Willis." Uncle Willis
says they offered him two hundred dollars if he could locate the mine.
Being so sure that he knew its exact location, said that the $200 was
his meat. However, Uncle Willis was unable to locate the spot where they
dug the lead and the mine remains a mystery.[C]
Recently a group of citizens of Leon County including W.D. Lacey, Joe
McDaniel, Debbs Brown, W.H. Hill and Judge Lacey cross questioned Uncle
Willis about the lead mine. Judge Lacey did the questioning while them
others formed an audience. The conversation went as follows:
"Which way would you go when you went to the mine?" Judge Lacey asked.
"Out tow'hd Normangee."
"How long would it take you to get there?"
"Two or three hours."
"Was it on a creek?"
"Yessuh."
"But you cant go to it now?"
"Nosuh, I just can't recollect exactly where 'tis.[B]
J. Frank Dobie mentions many tales of lost lead mines throughout Texas
in Coronado's Children, a publication of the Texas Folk-Lore Society.
Lead in the early days of the Republic and the State was very valuable,
as it was the source of protection from the Indians and also the means
of supplying food.[A]
420056
[Illustration: Mary Armstrong]
MARY ARMSTRONG, 91, lives at 3326 Pierce Ave., Houston, Texas. She
was born on a farm near St. Louis, Missouri, a slave of William
Cleveland. Her father, Sam Adams, belonged to a "nigger trader,"
who had a farm adjoining the Cleveland place.
"I's Aunt Mary, all right, but you all has to 'scuse me if I don't talk
so good, 'cause I's been feelin' poorly for a spell and I ain't so young
no more. Law me, when I think back what I used to do, and now it's all I
can do to hobble 'round a little. Why, Miss Olivia, my mistress, used to
put a glass plumb full of water on my head and then have me waltz 'round
the room, and I'd dance so smoothlike, I don't spill nary drap.
"That was in St. Louis, where I's born. You see, my mamma belong to old
William Cleveland and old Polly Cleveland, and they was the meanest two
white folks what ever lived, 'cause they was allus beatin' on their
slaves. I know, 'cause mamma told me, and I hears about it other places,
and besides, old Polly, she was a Polly devil if there ever was one, and
she whipped my little sister what was only nine months old and jes' a
baby to death. She come and took the diaper offen my little sister and
whipped till the blood jes' ran--jes' 'cause she cry like all babies do,
and it kilt my sister. I never forgot that, but I sot some even with
that old Polly devil and it's this-a-way.
"You see, I's 'bout 10 year old and I belongs to Miss Olivia, what was
that old Polly's daughter, and one day old Polly devil comes to where
Miss Olivia lives after she marries, and trys to give me a lick out in
the yard, and I picks up a rock 'bout as big as half your fist and hits
her right in the eye and busted the eyeball, and tells her that's for
whippin' my baby sister to death. You could hear her holler for five
miles, but Miss Olivia, when I tells her, says, 'Well, I guess mamma has
larnt her lesson at last.' But that old Polly was mean like her husban',
old Cleveland, till she die, and I hopes they is burnin' in torment now.
"I don't 'member 'bout the start of things so much, 'cept what Miss
Olivia and my mamma, her name was Siby, tells me. Course, it's powerful
cold in winter times and the farms was lots different from down here.
They calls 'em plantations down here but up at St. Louis they was jes'
called farms, and that's what they was, 'cause we raises wheat and
barley and rye and oats and corn and fruit.
"The houses was builded with brick and heavy wood, too, 'cause it's cold
up there, and we has to wear the warm clothes and they's wove on the
place, and we works at it in the evenin's.
"Old Cleveland takes a lot of his slaves what was in 'custom' and brings
'em to Texas to sell. You know, he wasn't sposed to do that, 'cause when
you's in 'custom', that's 'cause he borrowed money on you, and you's not
sposed to leave the place till he paid up. Course, old Cleveland jes'
tells the one he owed the money to, you had run off, or squirmed out
some way, he was that mean.
"Mamma say she was in one bunch and me in 'nother. Mamma had been put
'fore this with my papa, Sam Adams, but that makes no diff'rence to Old
Cleveland. He's so mean he never would sell the man and woman and
chillen to the same one. He'd sell the man here and the woman there and
if they's chillen, he'd sell them some place else. Oh, old Satan in
torment couldn't be no meaner than what he and Old Polly was to they
slaves. He'd chain a nigger up to whip 'em and rub salt and pepper on
him, like he said, 'to season him up.' And when he'd sell a slave, he'd
grease their mouth all up to make it look like they'd been fed good and
was strong and healthy.
"Well mamma say they hadn't no more'n got to Shreveport 'fore some law
man cotch old Cleveland and takes 'em all back to St. Louis. Then my
little sister's born, the one old Polly devil kilt, and I's 'bout four
year old then.
"Miss Olivia takes a likin' to me and, though her papa and mama so mean,
she's kind to everyone, and they jes' love her. She marries to Mr. Will
Adams what was a fine man, and has 'bout five farms and 500 slaves, and
he buys me for her from old Cleveland and pays him $2,500.00, and gives
him George Henry, a nigger, to boot. Lawsy, I's sho' happy to be with
Miss Olivia and away from old Cleveland and Old Polly, 'cause they kilt
my little sister.
"We lives in St. Louis, on Chinquapin Hill, and I's housegirl, and when
the babies starts to come I nusses 'em and spins thread for clothes on
the loom. I spins six cuts of thread a week, but I has plenty of time
for myself and that's where I larns to dance so good. Law, I sho' jes'
crazy 'bout dancin'. If I's settin' eatin' my victuals and hears a
fiddle play, I gets up and dances.
"Mr. Will and Miss Olivia sho' is good to me, and I never calls Mr. Will
'massa' neither, but when they's company I calls him Mr. Will and 'round
the house by ourselves I calls them 'pappy' and 'mammy', 'cause they
raises me up from the little girl. I hears old Cleveland done took my
mamma to Texas 'gain but I couldn't do nothin', 'cause Miss Olivia
wouldn't have much truck with her folks. Once in a while old Polly comes
over, but Miss Olivia tells her not to touch me or the others. Old Polly
trys to buy me back from Miss Olivia, and if they had they'd kilt me
sho'. But Miss Olivia say, 'I'd wade in blood as deep as Hell 'fore I'd
let you have Mary.' That's jes' the very words she told 'em.
"Then I hears my papa is sold some place I don't know where. 'Course, I
didn't know him so well, jes' what mamma done told me, so that didn't
worry me like mamma being took so far away.
"One day Mr. Will say, 'Mary, you want to go to the river and see the
boat race?' Law me, I never won't forget that. Where we live it ain't
far to the Miss'sippi River and pretty soon here they comes, the Natchez
and the Eclipse, with smoke and fire jes' pourin' out of they
smokestacks. That old captain on the 'Clipse starts puttin' in bacon
meat in the boiler and the grease jes' comes out a-blazin' and it beat
the Natchez to pieces.
"I stays with Miss Olivia till '63 when Mr. Will set us all free. I was
'bout 17 year old then or more. I say I goin' find my mamma. Mr. Will
fixes me up two papers, one 'bout a yard long and the other some
smaller, but both has big, gold seals what he says is the seal of the
State of Missouri. He gives me money and buys my fare ticket to Texas
and tells me they is still slave times down here and to put the papers
in my bosom but to do whatever the white folks tells me, even if they
wants to sell me. But he say, 'Fore you gets off the block, jes' pull
out the papers, but jes' hold 'em up to let folks see and don't let 'em
out of your hands, and when they sees them they has to let you alone.'
"Miss Olivia cry and carry on and say be careful of myself 'cause it
sho' rough in Texas. She give me a big basket what had so much to eat in
it I couldn't hardly heft it and 'nother with clothes in it. They puts
me in the back end a the boat where the big, old wheel what run the boat
was and I goes to New Orleans, and the captain puts me on 'nother boat
and I comes to Galveston, and that captain puts me on 'nother boat and I
comes up this here Buffalo Bayou to Houston.
"I looks 'round Houston, but not long. It sho' was a dumpy little place
then and I gets the stagecoach to Austin. It takes us two days to get
there and I thinks my back busted sho' 'nough, it was sich rough ridin'.
Then I has trouble sho'. A man asks me where I goin' and says to come
'long and he takes me to a Mr. Charley Crosby. They takes me to the
block what they sells slaves on. I gets right up like they tells me,
'cause I 'lects what Mr. Will done told me to do, and they starts
biddin' on me. And when they cried off and this Mr. Crosby comes up to
get me, I jes' pulled out my papers and helt 'em up high and when he
sees 'em, he say, 'Let me see them.' But I says, 'You jes' look at it up
here,' and he squints up and say, 'This gal am free and has papers,' and
tells me he a legislature man and takes me and lets me stay with his
slaves. He is a good man.
"He tells me there's a slave refugee camp in Wharton County but I didn't
have no money left, but he pays me some for workin' and when the war's
over I starts to hunt mamma 'gain, and finds her in Wharton County near
where Wharton is. Law me, talk 'bout cryin' and singin' and cryin' some
more, we sure done it. I stays with mamma till I gets married in 1871 to
John Armstrong, and then we all comes to Houston.
"I gets me a job nussin' for Dr. Rellaford and was all through the
yellow fever epidemic. I 'lects in '75 people die jes' like sheep with
the rots. I's seen folks with the fever jump from their bed with death
on 'em and grab other folks. The doctor saved lots of folks, white and
black, 'cause he sweat it out of 'em. He mixed up hot water and vinegar
and mustard and some else in it.
"But, law me, so much is gone out of my mind, 'cause I's 91 year old now
and my mind jes' like my legs, jes' kinda hobble 'round a bit.
420085
[Illustration: Sterlin Arnwine]
STEARLIN ARNWINE, 94, was born a slave to Albertus Arnwine, near
Jacksonville, Texas, who died when Stearlin was seven or eight. He
was bought by John Moseley, of Rusk, Texas, who made Stearlin a
houseboy, and was very kind to him. He now lives about six miles
west of Jacksonville.
"I was bo'n 'fore de war, in 1853, right near this here town, on Gum
Creek. My mammy belonged to Massa Albertus Arnwine, and he wasn' ever
married. He owned four women, my mammy, Ann, my grandmother, Gracie, and
my Aunt Winnie and Aunt Mary. He didn' own any nigger men, 'cept the
chillen of these women. Grandma lived in de house with Massa Arnwine and
the rest of us lived in cabins in de ya'd. My mammy come from Memphis
but I don' know whar my pappy come from. He was Ike Lane. I has three
half brothers, and their names is Joe and Will and John Schot, and two
sisters called Polly and Rosie.
"Massa Arnwine died 'fore de war and he made a will and it gave all he
owned to the women he owned, and Jedge Jowell promised massa on his
deathbed he would take us to de free country, but he didn'. He took us
to his place to work for him for 'bout two years and the women never did
get that 900 acres of land Massa Arnwine willed to'em. I don' know who
got it, but they didn'. I knows I still has a share in that land, but it
takes money to git it in cou't.
"When war broke I fell into the han's of Massa John Moseley at Rusk.
They brought the dogs to roun' us up from the fiel's whar we was
workin'. I was the only one of my fam'ly to go to Massa John.
"I never did wo'k in the fiel's at Massa John's place. He said I mus' be
his houseboy and houseboy I was. Massa was sho' good to me and I did
love to be with him and follow him 'roun'.
"The kitchen was out in de ya'd and I had to carry the victuals to the
big dinin'-room. When dinner was over, Massa John tuk a nap and I had to
fan him, and Lawsy me, I'd git so sleepy. I kin hear him now, for he'd
wake up and say, 'Go get me a drink outta the northeast corner of de
well.'