old. I and my half-brother, Eleck, he de baby, was both born in
Louisiana on de Van Loos place, but I go by de name of Branch, 'cause my
daddy name Branch. My mama name Renee. Dey split up us family and Elisha
Stevenson buy my mama and de two chillen. I ain't never see my daddy no
more and don't 'member him at all.
"Old 'Lisha Stevenson he a great one for to raise pigs. He sell sometime
500 hawgs at one time. He take he dogs and drive dem hawgs 'cross de
Neches River all by hisself, to sell dem. Dat how he git money to buy de
niggers, sellin' hawgs and cowhides.
"Old massa he sho' a good old man, but de old missy, she a tornado! Her
name Miss 'Liza. She could be terrible mean. But sometime she take her
old morrel--dat a sack make for to carry things in--and go out and come
back with plenty joints of sugar cane. She take a knife and sit on de
gallary and peel dat cane and give a joint to every one de li'l chillen.
"Mama, she work up in de big house, doin' cookin' and washin'. Old massa
go buy a cullud man name Uncle Charley Fenner. He a good old cullud man.
Massa brung him to de quarters and say, 'Renee, here you husband,' and
den he turn to Uncle and say, 'Charley, dis you woman.' Den dey
consider marry. Dat de way dey marry den, by de massa's word. Uncle
Charley, he good step-pa to us.
"De white folks have de good house with a brick chimney. Us quarters de
good, snug li'l house with flue and oven. Dey didn't bother to have much
furn'chure, 'cause us in dere only to sleep. Us have homemake bench and
'Georgia Hoss' bed with hay mattress. All us cookin' and eatin' done in
de kitchen de big house. Us have plenty to eat, too. De smokehouse allus
full white 'taters and cracklin's hangin' on de wall. Us git dem mos'
any time us want, jes' so long us didn't waste nothin'. Dey have big jar
with buttermilk and 'low us drink all us want.
"Old lady 'Liza, she have three women to spin when she git ready make de
clothes for everybody. Dey spin and weave and make all us clothes. Us
all wear shirt tail till us 'bout twelve or fourteen, boys and gals,
too. You couldn't tell us apart.
"Us chillen start to work soon's us could toddle. First us gather
firewood. Iffen it freezin' or hot us have to go to toughen us up. When
us git li'l bigger us tend de cattle and feed hosses and hawgs. By time
us good sprouts us pickin' cotton and pullin' cane. Us ain't never idle.
Sometime us git far out in de field and lay down in de corn row and nap.
But, Lawdy, iffen dey cotch you, dey sho' wore you out! Sunday de
onliest rest day and den de white folks 'low us play.
"Massa never whup Uncle Charley, 'cause he good nigger and work hard. It
make missy mad and one time when massa gone she go down in de field.
Uncle Charley hoein' corn jes' like massa done told him, jes' singin'
and happy. Old missy she say, 'Nigger, I's sho gwineter whup you.' He
say, 'What for you whup me. I doin' every bit what old massa done tell
me.' But missy think he gittin' it too good, 'cause he ain't never been
whupped. She clumb over de fence and start down de row with de cowhide.
Uncle Charley, he ain't even raise he voice, but he cut de las' weed
outen dat corn and commence to wave he hoe in de air, and he say,
'Missy, I ain't 'vise you come any step closeter.' Dat sho' make her
mad, but she 'fraid to do nothin'.
"One time she have 'nother nigger name Charlie. Massa go on de trip and
she tell dis Charley iffen he ain't finish grindin' all de cornmeal by
Monday she gwineter give him a t'ousand lashes. He try, but he ain't
able make dat much meal, so come Monday he runned off in de bayou. Dat
night come de big freeze and he down dere with water up to he knees and
when massa come home and go git him, he so froze he couldn't walk. Dey
brung him in de kitchen and old missy cuss him out. Soon's he thaw out,
he done die right dere on de spot.
"My pore mama! Every washday old missy give her de beatin'. She couldn't
keep de flies from speckin' de clothes overnight. Old missy git up soon
in de mornin', 'fore mama have time git dem specks off. She snort and
say, 'Renee, I's gwineter teach you how to wash.' Den she beat mama with
de cowhide. Look like she cut my mama in two. Many's de time I edges up
and tries take some dem licks off my mama.
"Slavery, one to 'nother, was purty rough. Every plantation have to
answer for itself.
"I used to know lots of songs, but I don't know many now. Spiritual
songs, dey comes through visions. Dat's why cullud folks can make dem
better dan white folks. I knowed one song what start out--
"'De Jews done kill pore Jesus,
And bury him in de sepulchur;
De grave wouldn't hold him,
Dey place guards all 'round him,
But de angels move de stone,
De Jews done kill pore Jesus,
But de grave it wouldn't hold him.'
"Dey 'nother song what say--
"'Run, sinner, run,
Gawd is a-callin' you.
Run, sinner, run,
De fire'll overtake you.'
"When I 'bout ten dey sets me ginnin' cotton. Old massa he done make de
cotton with de hand crank. It built on a bench like. I gin de cotton by
turnin' dat crank. When I gits a lapful I puts it in de tow sack and dey
take it to Miss Susan to make de twine with it. I warm and damp de
cotton 'fore de fireplace 'fore I start ginnin' it.
"Dere school for de white chillen in Double Bayou and I used to go meet
de chillen comin' home and dey stop longside de way and teach me my ABC.
Dey done carry me as far as Baker in de book when old missy find it out
and make dem stop. De war comin' on den and us daren't even pick up a
piece of paper. De white folks didn't want us to larn to read for fear
us find out things.
"Us livin' down by de Welborn's den and I seed dem haul de logs out of
Pine Island to make dat Welborn house. Old man Hamshire and old man
Remington builded dat Welborn house. It 'cross de bayou, left hand side
Smith's ferry. Dat house still standin' in parts.
"One mornin' Eleck and me git up at crack of dawn to milk. All at once
come a shock what shake de earth. De big fish jump clean out de bay and
turtles and alligators run out dere ponds. Dey plumb ruint Galveston!
Us runned in de house and all de dishes and things done jump out de
shelf. Dat de first bombardment of Galveston. De sojers put powder under
people's houses and blowin' up Galveston.
"Young massa Shake Stevenson he vol'teer and git kilt somewheres in
Virginny. Young massa Tucker Stevenson, he ain't 'lieve in war and he
say he never gwine fight. He hide in de woods so de conscrip' men can't
find him. Old man LaCour come 'round and say he have orders for find
Tucker and bring him in dead or 'live. But 'cause he old massa's friend,
he say, 'Why don't you buy de boy's services off?' So old massa take de
boat, 'Catrig,' us calls it, and loads it with corn and sich and us pole
it down to Galveston. De people need dat food so much, dat load supplies
done buy off Massa Tucker from fightin'.
"After war starts lots of slaves runned off to git to de Yankees. All
dem in dis part heads for de Rio Grande river. De Mexicans rig up
flat-boats out in de middle de river, tied to stakes with rope. When de
cullud people gits to de rope dey can pull deyself 'cross de rest de way
on dem boats. De white folks rid de 'Merican side dat river all de time,
but plenty slaves git through, anyway.
"I wait on lots of sojers. I have to get smartweed and bile it in salt
water to bath dem in. Dat help de rheumatism. Dem sojers have rheumatism
so bad for standin' day and night in de water.
"Us sho' in good health dem days. Iffen a cullud man weak dey move de
muscles in he arms, bleed him and give him plenty bacon and cornbread,
and he git so strong he could lift a log. Dey didn't go in for cuttin',
like dey do now. Dey git herbs out de woods, blue mass and quinine and
calomel. I think people jes' die under pills, now. Old lady Field she
make medicine with snakeroot and larkspur and marshroot and redroot.
"After war am over Massa Tucker brung de freedom papers and read dem. He
say us all am free as Hell. Old man Charley so happy he jes' roll on de
floor like a hoss and kick he heels. De nex' mornin' mama start do
somethin' and missy cuss her out. I runned to missy and say, 'Us free as
de bird.' She sho' whup me for dat, but no more, 'cause she so mean us
all leave.
"Dat funny. Old man LaFour, what de head de patterrollers and so mean,
he de first to help us niggers after freedom. He loan us he ox team and
pay Uncle Charley a dollar de day for work and a dollar every time my
mama wash for he wife.
"Old massa and missy split up. She so bad she ain't give him no better
show dan she done us. Old massa gittin' some peaches one day and she
come after him with de buggy whip. He git on he hoss and say, 'Liz,
you's gittin' broad as de beef. You too big for me.' She so mad she spit
fire. Lightenin' done kill her, she upstairs and de big streak hits her.
It knock her under de bed.
"De first freedom work I done am pullin' up potato hills at two bits a
hunnerd. 'Bout two bits de most us could make in one day. I work two
days to buy mama de turkey hen for Christmas. Anything mama want I think
she got to have. I's growed 'fore I gits much as four bits a day. I's
done earn as much as $1.50 in my time, though.
"When I's 25 year old I marries Betty Baker but she dead now. De Rev.
Patterson he marry us. Us has four chillen livin'. Turah and Renee, dat
my gals, and Enrichs and Milton, dat my boys. Milton work in Houston and
Enrich help me farm. I's a Mason 30 year. De lodge split up now, but it
answer.
420069
[Illustration: William Branch]
WILLIAM BRANCH, born 1850, 322 Utah St., San Antonio, Texas.
Eyesight is so poor someone must lead him to the store or to
church. William kneels at his bedside each evening at five and says
his prayers. In this ceremony he spends a half hour or more
chanting one Negro spiritual after another.
"Yahsur, I was a slave. I was bo'n May 13, 1850, on the place of Lawyer
Woodson in Lunenburg County, Virginia. It was 'bout 75 miles southwest
of Richmond. They was two big plantations, one on one side the road,
yother the yother. My marster owned 75 slaves. He raised tobacco and
cotton. I wukked tobacco sometime, sometime cotton. Dere wasn't no
whippin' or switchin'. We had to wuk hard. Marster Woodson was a rich
man. He live in a great big house, a lumber house painted white. And it
had a great big garden.
"De slaves lives in a long string of log houses. Dey had dirt floors and
shingle roofs. Marster Woodson's house was shingle roof too. We had home
cured bacon and veg'tables, dried co'n, string beans and dey give us hoe
cakes baked in hot ashes. Dere always was lots of fresh milk.
"How'd us slaves git de clothes? We carded de cotton, den de women spin
it on a spinnin' wheel. After dat day sew de gahment togeddah
on a sewin' machine. Yahsur, we's got sewin' machine, wid a big wheel
and a handle. One woman tu'n de handle and de yuther woman do de
sewin'.
"Dat's how we git de clothes for de 75 slaves. Marster's clothes? We
makes dem for de whole fam'ly. De missis send de pattren and de slaves
makes de clothes. Over nigh Richmond a fren' of Marster Woodson has 300
slaves. Dey makes all de clothes for dem.
"I was with Marster twel de Yankees come down to Virginia in 1861. De
sergeant of de Yankees takes me up on his hoss and I goes to Washington
wid de Yankees. I got to stay dere 'cause I'd run away from my marster.
"I stay at de house of Marse Frank Cayler. He's an ole time hack driver.
I was his houseboy. I stay dere twel de year 1870, den I goes to
Baltimore and jines de United States Army. We's sent to Texas 'count of
de Indians bein' so bad. Dey put us on a boat at Baltimore and we landed
at Galveston.
"Den we marches from Galveston to Fort Duncan. It was up, up, de whole
time. We ties our bedclothes and rolls dem in a bundle wid a strap. We
walks wid our guns and bedclothes on our backs, and de wagons wid de
rations follows us. Dey is pulled by mules. We goes 15 miles ev'ry day.
We got no tents, night come, we unrolls de blankets and sleeps under de
trees, sometime under de brush.
"For rations we got canned beans, milk and hardtack. De hard tacks is 3
or 4 in a box, we wets 'em in water and cooks 'em in a skillet. We gits
meat purty often. When we camps for de night de captain say, 'You'all
kin go huntin'.' Before we git to de mountains dere's deer and rabbits
and dey ain't no fences. Often in de dark we sees a big animal and we
shoots. When we bring 'im to camp, de captain say, 'Iffen de cow got
iron burns de rancher gwineter shoot hisself a nigger scout.' But de cow
ain't got no iron, it's--what de name of de cow what ain't feel de iron?
Mavrick, yahsur. We eats lots of dem Mavricks. We's goin' 'long de
river bottom, and before we comes to Fort Duncan we sees de cactus and
muskeet. Dere ain't much cattle, but one colored scout shoots hisself a
bear. Den we eats high. Fort Duncan were made of slab lumber and de roof
was gravel and grass.
"Den we's ordered to Fort Davis and we's in de mountains now. Climb,
climb all day, and de Indians give us a fit ev'ry day. We kills some
Indians, dey kills a few soldiers. We was at Fort Clark a while. At Fort
Davis I jines de colored Indian Scouts, I was in Capt. George L.
Andrew's Co. K.
"We's told de northern Cheyennes is on a rampus and we's goin' to Fort
Sill in Indian Territory. Before we gits to Fort Concho (San Angelo) de
Comanches and de Apaches give us a fit. We fitten' 'em all de time and
when we gits away from de Comanches and Apaches we fitten de Cheyennes.
Dey's seven feet tall. Dey couldn't come through that door.
"When we gits to Fort Sill, Gen. Davidson say de Cheyennes is off de
reservation, and he say, 'You boys is got to git dem back. Iffen you
kill 'em, dey can't git back to de reservation.' Den we goes scoutin'
for de Cheyennes and dey is scoutin' for us. Dey gits us first, on de
Wichita River was 500 of 'em, and we got 75 colored Indian Scouts. Den
Red Foot, de Chief of de Cheyennes, he come to see Capt. Lawson and say
he want rations for his Indians. De captain say he cain't give no
rations to Indians off de reservation. Red Foot say he don't care 'bout
no reservation and he say he take what we got. Capt. Lawson 'low we
gotter git reinforcements. We got a guide in de scout troop, he call
hisself Jack Kilmartin. De captain say, 'Jack, I'se in trouble, how kin
I git a dispatch to Gen. Davidson?' Jack say, 'I kin git it through.'
And Jack, he crawl on his belly and through de brush and he lead a pony,
and when he gits clear he rides de pony bareback twel he git to Fort
Sill. Den Gen. Davidson, he soun' de gin'ral alarm and he send two
companies of cavalry to reinforce us. But de Cheyennes give 'em a fit
all de way, dey's gotter cut dere way through de Cheyennes.
"And Col. Shafter comes up, and goes out in de hills in his shirt
sleeves jus' like you's sittin' dere. Dey's snow on de groun' and de
wind's cole, but de colonel don't care, and he say, 'Whut's dis order
Gen. Davidson give? Don' kill de Cheyennes? You kill 'em all from de
cradle to de Cross.'
"And den we starts de attack. De Cheyennes got Winchesters and rifles
and repeaters from de government. Yahsur, de government give 'em de guns
dey used to shoot us. We got de ole fashion muzzle loaders. You puts one
ball in de muzzle and shove de powder down wid de ramrod. Den we went in
and fit 'em, and 'twas like fightin' a wasp's nest. Dey kills a lot of
our boys and we nearly wipes 'em out. Den we disarms de Cheyennes we
captures, and turns dere guns in to de regiment.
"I come to San Antonio after I'se mustered out and goes to work for de
Bell Jewelry Company and stays dere twel I cain't work no more. Did I
like de army? Yahsur, I'd ruthuh be in de army dan a plantation slave."
420230
[Illustration: Clara Brim]
CLARA BRIM, slave of William Lyons of Branch, Louisiana, now lives
in Beaumont, Texas. The town of Branch was known in slave days as
Plaquemine Bouley. Clara estimates her age to be 100 or 102, and
from various facts known to her and her family, this would seem to
be correct.
"Old massa's name was William Lyons. I didn't have no old missus, 'cause
he was a bachelor. He had a big plantation. I don't know how big but dey
somethin' like twenty fam'lies of slaves and some dem fam'lies had
plenty in dem. My ma was Becky Brim and pa, he name Louis Brim. She come
from Old Virginny. Dey work in de field. I had two sister name Cass and
Donnie and a brudder name Washington. He went off to de war. When it
break out dey come and take him off to work in de army. He lost in dat
war. He didn't come back. Nobody ever know what happen to him.
"Some de houses log house and some plank, but dey all good. Dey well
built and had brick chimneys. Dey houses what de wind didn't blow in. Us
had beds, too, not dem built in de wall. Us sho' treat good in slavery
times, yes, suh. Old massa give us plenty clothes to keep us good and
warm. He sho' did.
"Old massa, he wasn't marry and eat de same things de slaves eat. He
didn't work dem in de heat of de day. 'Bout eleven o'clock, when dat sun
git hot, he call dem out de field. He give dem till it git kind of cool
befo' he make dem go back in de field. He didn't have no overseer. He
seed 'bout de plantation hisself. He raise cotton and corn and sweet
'taters and peas and cane, didn't fool with rice. He didn't go in for
oats, neither.
"When Sunday come Old Massa ask who want to go to church. Dem what wants
could ride hoss-back or walk. Us go to de white folks church. Dey sot in
front and us sot in back. Us had prayer meetin', too, reg'lar every
week. One old cullud man a sort of preacher. He de leader in 'ligion.
"When de slaves go to work he give dem de task. Dat so much work, so
many rows cotton to chop or corn to hoe. When dey git through dey can do
what dey want. He task dem on Monday. Some dem git through Thursday
night. Den dey can hire out to somebody and git pay for it.
"Old Massa even git de preacher for marryin' de slaves. And when a slave
die, he git de preacher and have Bible readin' and prayin'. Mostest de
massas didn't do dat-a-way.
"I as big in war time as I is now. I used to do anything in de field
what de men done. I plow and pull fodder and pick cotton. But de hardes'
work I ever done am since I free. Old Massa, he didn't work us hard,
noway.
"He allus give us de pass, so dem patterrollers not cotch us. Dey 'bout
six men on hoss-back, ridin' de roads to cotch niggers what out without
de pass. Iffen dey cotch him it am de whippin'. But de niggers on us
place was good and civ'lized folks. Dey didn't have no fuss. Old Massa
allus let dem have de garden and dey can raise things to eat and sell.
Sometime dey have some pig and chickens.
"I been marry his' one time and he been dead 'bout forty-one years now.
I stay with Old Massa long time after freedom. In 1913 I come live with
my youngest girl here in Beaumont. You see, I can't 'member so much. I
has lived so long my 'memberance ain't so good now.
420248
[Illustration: Sylvester Brooks]
SYLVESTER BROOKS, 87, was born in Green County, Alabama, a slave of
Josiah Collier. The old Negro's memory is poor, but he managed to
recall a few incidents of slave days. He lives in Mart, Texas.
"I's born 'bout de year 1850, near de Tom Bigbee river in Alabama, on a
plantation own by Marse Josiah Collier. My folks was Henderson and
Martha Brooks and I's de only child den.
"Marse Collier owned seventy fam'lies of slaves and dey all lived in dey
quarters 'bout a mile from de big house. When freedom come Marse Collier
sent for all de slaves and lines us up in a row, two deep, and helt up
he hands and say, 'Boys, you is free as I is. All of you what wants to
can go, and all of you what wants to can work for me on wages dis year.
Next year I'll give you a crop or work for wages.' Dey all stays but
two, and one of dem two my daddy, and he lef' mammy and six chillen and
never come back.
"Us stays on till Marse Collier and Missus both dies, and den stays with
he oldes' gal, and didn't go 'way till we's growed and has fam'lies of
our own.
"I 'members best de Fourth of July. De white folks have lots to eat for
dem and us and we plays games and goes swimmin'.
"Next thing I 'members is de patterrollers, 'cause dey whip me every
time dey cotches me without my pass. Dat de way dey make us stay home at
night, and it made good niggers out of us, 'cause we couldn't chase
round and git in no meanness.
"Old Marse often told me 'bout de stars fallin'. It was 'long 'bout
sundown and growed dark all a sudden and de chickens goes to roost. Den
some stars with long tails 'gins to shoot, den it look like all de
stars had come out of Heaven, and did dey fall! De stars not all what
fell. De white folks and de niggers fell on dere knees, prayin' to Gawd
to save dem iffen de world comin' to a end, and de women folks all run
down in de cellar and stayed till mornin'. Old Marse say it was in 1833,
and he say dem stars fall awhile and quit awhile, like de showers when
it rains.
"'Bout a year after freedom Old Marse give us a piece of land for a
church and dis was de school, too. De preacher's name was Christmas
Crawford, and dat de reason I 'members it, it so funny to us. De nigger
teacher named Nimron. De niggers has de blueback spellers and larns
'rithmetic, too.
"On Thanksgivin' Day de niggers goes round to de white folks houses and
gives a ser'nade, like dis:
"'De old bee make de honeycomb,
De young bee make de honey--
De nigger make de cotton and corn,
And de white folks git de money.
"'De raccoon he a curious man,
He never works till dark;
Nothin' ever 'sturbs he mind,
Till he hear old Towser bark.'
"Den de white folks asks us in and help ourselves to de cake or wine or
whatever dey has, and we does dis on Christmas, too.
"We had a song we'd sing when we's thinkin' of comin' to Texas:
"'We'll put for de South, for seven-up and loo,
Chime in, niggers, won't you come 'long, too?
No use talkin' when de nigger wants to go,
Where de corn top blossoms and canebrakes grow.
Come 'long, Cuba, and dance de polka juba,
Way down South, where de corn tops grow.'
"I'd like to be in old Alabama to die, but Old Marse and Missus gone,
and it ain't no use goin' dere no more.
420014
[Illustration: Donaville Broussard]
DONAVILLE BROUSSARD, a polished gentleman of his race, was the son
of a mulatto slave of Emilier Caramouche. He was born in 1850, but
appears vigorous. Light skinned, with blue eyes and a genial
expression, he gave the story of his life in the French patois
spoken by Louisiana French Negroes, which has been translated into
English.
"My mama was daughter of one of the Carmouche boys. One of M'sieur
Francois' sons. She call herself Armance Carmouche. She was house
servant for the family and I worked around the house. I remember my
Madame brought me the little basket and it had a strap on it. I put the
strap over the shoulder and went round with the sharp stick and picked
up the leaves on the ground with the stick.
"It was a great house with trees and flowers. Madame liked all clean and
pretty. I never worked hard. The ladies and my mama, too, petted me as
if I was the white child.
"M'sieur had a widow sister. She made us learn the prayers. We were glad
to go where she was for she always had something good in her bag for us.
I never saw the baptizing. In those days all the slaves had the religion
of the master and the Catholics didn't have no baptizing. They didn't
have to half-drown when they got their religion. The church was 15 or 20
miles off. The priest came and held Mass for the white folks sometimes.
"I remember one wedding. My aunt got married. M'sieur Caramouche killed
a big pig. The white folks ate in the house. The slaves sat under the
trees and ate in the yard. At four o'clock the justice of the peace
came. He was the friend of M'sieur Caramouche. He made my aunt and the
man hold hands and jump over the broom handle. When the priest came he
made M'sieur sign some papers.
"A slave always had to ask M'sieur to marry. He always let the women
slaves marry who they wanted. He didn't loose by that. He was so good
the men would come to his plantation.
"We all wore the long chemise. Made out of heavy cloth. They made the
cloth on the place and the women sewed it up. We didn't wear the shoes.
We didn't like them when we had them.
"Each slave could have the little garden. They raised vegetables and had
a couple of beehives for the honey.
"When the Yankees came they told us we could be free, but I don't know
of any slaves that left. Old M'sieur died of the fever in the second
year of the war. His wife died before he did. No children. They sold us,
the house and everything. M'sieur Cyprien Arceneaux of Lafayette bought
me and Madame Arvillien Bernard of St. Pierre bought the mama. They used
to call it St. Pierre. They call it Carenero now. When war was finished
I left M'sieur Arceneaux and lived with mama.