de 'federates come raidin'. Other times she wore it top de dress. When
dey hears de 'federates comin' de white folks makes us bury all de gold
and de silver spoons out in de garden. Old massa, he in de Yankee army,
'cause dey 'script him, but he sons, John and Joe, dey volunteers.
"Old massa he never sold none of he slaves. I used to hear him and
missus fussin' 'bout de niggers, 'cause some 'long to her and some to
him and dey have de time keepin' dem straighten' out.
Us boys have good time playin'. Us draw de line and some git on one side
and some de other. Den one sing out
"'Chickama, Chickama, craney crow,
Went to de well to wash my toe;
When I git back my chicken was gone,
What time, old witch?'
"Den somebody holler out, 'One o'clock' or 'Two o'clock' or any time,
and dem on one side try to cotch dem on de other side.
"When I's young I didn't mind plowin', but I didn't like to ride at
fust, but dey make me larn anyhow. Course, dat white boy and me, us like
most anything what not too much work. Us go down to de watermelon patch
and plug dem melons, den us run hide in de woods and eat watermelon.
Course, dey lots of time dey 'low us to play jis' by ourselves. Us play
one game where us choose sides and den sing:
"'Can, can, candio,
Old man Dandio,
How many men you got?
More'n you're able to cotch.'
"Endurin' de war us git whip many a time for playin' with shells what us
find in de woods. Us heered de cannons shootin' in Lexington and lots of
dem shells drap in de woods.
"What did I think when I seed all dem sojers? I wants to be one, too. I
didn't care what side, I jis' wants a gun and a hoss and be a sojer.
John Morgan, he used to own de hemp factory in Lexington. When young
massa jine Woolford's 11th Kentucky Cavalry, dey come to de place and
halt befo' de big house in de turnpike. Dey have shotguns and blind
bridles on dere hosses, not open bridle like on de race hosses. Dey jis'
in reg'lar clothes but next time dey come through dey in blue uniforms.
All my white folks come back from de war and didn't git kilt. Nobody
ever telt me I's free. I's happy dere and never left dem till 1872. All
de others gone befo' dat, but I gits all I wants and I didn't need no
money. I didn't know what paper money was and one time massa's son give
me a paper dime to git some squab and I didn't know what money was and I
burned it up.
"Dey's jis' one thing I like to do most and dat's eat. Dey allus had
plenty of everything and dey had a big, wooden tray, or trough and dey
put potlicker and cornbread in dat trough and set it under de big locust
tree and all us li'l niggers jis' set 'round and eat and eat. Jis' eat
all us wants. Den when us git full us fall over and go to sleep. Us jis'
git fat and lazy. When us see dat bowl comin', dat bowl call us jis'
like hawgs runnin' to de trough.
"Dey was great on gingerbread and us go for dat. Dey couldn't leave it
in de kitchen or de pantry so old missus git a big tin box and hide de
gingerbread under her bed and kept de switch on us to keep us 'way from
it. But sometime us sneak up in de bedroom and git some, even den.
"When I 'bout 17 I left Kentucky and goes to Indiana and white folks
sends me to school to larn readin' and writin', but I got tired of dat
and run off and jine de army. Dat in 1876 and dey sends me to Arizona.
After dat I's at Fort Sill in what used to be Indian Territory and den
at Fort Clark and Fort Davis, dat in Garfield's 'ministration, den in
Fort Quitman on de Rio Grande. I's in skirmishes with de Indians on
Devil's River and in de Brazos Canyon, and in de Rattlesnake Range and
in de Guadalupe Mountains. De troops was de Eighth Cavalry and de Tenth
Infantry. De white and de cullud folks was altogether and I have three
hosses in de cavalry. De fust one plays out, de next one shot down on
campaign and one was condemn. On dat campaign us have de White Mountain
'paches with us for scouts.
"When I git discharge' from de Army I come to Texas and work on de S.P.
Railroad and I been in Texas ever since, and when I's in Dallas I got
'flicted and got de pension 'cause I been in de army. I ain't done much
work in ten year.
"I gits married in San Antonio on December 14, 1882 and I marries Dolly
Gross and dat her right dere. Us have de nice weddin', plenty to eat and
drink. Us have only one chile, a gal, and she dead, but us 'dopt sev'ral
chillen.
"Us come to Beaumont in 1903 and I works 'round Spindletop and I works
for de gas people and de waterworks people. I's been a carpenter and
done lots of common work wherever I could find it.
"It's been long time since slavery and I's old, but me and my old lady's
in good health and us manage to git 'long fairly well. Dat's 'bout all I
can 'member 'bout de old times.
420236
[Illustration: Martha Spence Bunton]
MARTHA SPENCE BUNTON, 81, was born a slave, Jan. 1, 1856, on the
John Bell plantation, in Murphfreesboro, Tennessee. Mr. Bell sold
Martha, her mother and four sisters to Joseph Spence, who brought
them to Texas. Martha married Andy Bunton in 1880, and they had
nine children. Martha now lives with her sister, Susan, on twelve
acres of land which their father bought for $25.00 an acre. The
farm is picturesquely located on a thickly wooded hill about six
miles east of Austin, Texas.
"I was born on New Year's Day. Yes, suh, in 1856, on Massa Bell's
plantation over in Tennessee. De name of de town was Murphreesboro, and
my mammy and my four sisters and me all 'longed to Massa John Bell, but
he done sold us to Massa Joseph Spence, and dat how I come by my name.
"I 'members how Massa Spence brung us to Texas in wagons, and the way we
knowed when we hit Texas am 'cause massa 'gin to talk 'bout a norther.
When dat norther done strike, all de weeds and leaves jus' starts
rollin'. Us poor, ig'rant niggers thunk at first dey was rabbits, 'cause
we'd never seed a rabbit den. Massa Spence rid his hoss and Missie
Spence come 'long in de richer way, in a coach. De chillen walked
mornin's and de older folks walked afternoons.
"Massa Spence come to Montopolis, right nigh to Austin, and settled
down. I helped carry dinner pails to de field workers, and dey was full
of meat and cabbage and biscuit. Pappy wasn't dere then, 'cause he was
own by Massa Burrows, over in Tennessee. But when his massa died, my
massa bought pappy and he come out to Texas. Befo' I's a sizeable child,
mammy took sick with diphtheria and died and pappy had to be mammy and
pappy to us. Pappy was a big-bodied man and on Sunday mornin' he'd git
out of bed and make a big fire and say, 'Jiminy cripes! You chillen stay
in you beds and I'll make de biscuits.' He would, too. I laughs when I
thinks 'bout dem big, rye biscuits, what was so big we called dem
'Nigger heels.' Dey sho' was big biscuits, but dey was good. We never
did git no butter, though, and sometimes we'd ask the white chillen to
give us a piece of biscuit with butter on it. We got plenty other
eats--sliced meat and roastin' ears and sweet milk.
"After freedom pappy sent us to school to de white teacher, and dat's
why I can read and write. I went to de sixth grade and quit. Pappy was
drinkin' a lot then. He'd take alcohol and mix it with 'lasses and
water. But he was good to us. Sometimes a Texas norther come up and we'd
be on the way home and we'd see something comin' what look like a
elephant and it was pappy, with a bundle of coats.
"I was twenty-four years old when I married Andy Bunton and he jes'
rented farms here and yonder. We had a big weddin' and pork and turkey
and cake. Aunt Lucy Hubbard, what weighed three hundred pounds, done de
cookin' dat day. We had such a good time nobody knowed when one de
guests stole a whole turkey.
"I was mother of nine chillen and three of dem is livin' now. Andy made
a purty good livin till he had a paral'sis stroke. Poor old feller! In
de end, I took care of him and had to work like I was young again. I cut
wood and carried water and washed and cooked. I had to feed him.
"I owns my place here. It am twelve acres and pappy bought it long ago
for $25.00 de acre. My sister lives here too, and my son, Howard, comes
home sometimes, but he's got eight houn' dogs he can't feed. I sho'
can't feed dem on dat $11.00 pension what I gits.
420080
[Illustration: Ellen Butler]
ELLEN BUTLER was born a slave to Richmond Butler, near Whiska
Chitto, in the northern part of Calcasieu Parish (now a part of
Beauregard Parish), in Louisiana. Ellen is about 78 years old. She
now lives in Beaumont, Texas.
"My old massa was name Richmond Butler and he used to have a big
plantation over on Whiska Chitto, in Louisiana, and that's where I was
born. They used to call the place Bagdad. I was his slave till I six
year old and then freedom come.
"I don't 'member my daddy, but my mammy was name Dicey Ann Butler. I
have seven sister and three brudder, and they was Anderson and Charlie
and Willie, and the girls was Laura and Rosa and Rachel and Fannie and
Adeline and Sottie and Nora.
"Us used to live in a li'l log house with one room. The floor was dirt
and the house was make jus' like they used to make 'tater house. They
was a little window in the back. When I was a baby they wrop me up in
cotton and put me in a coffee pot--that how li'l I was. But I grows to
be more sizable.
"The plantation were a good, big place and they have 'bout 200 head of
niggers. When I gets big enough they start me to totin' water to the
field. I gits the water out the spring and totes it in gourds. They cut
the gourds so that a strip was left round and cross the top and that the
handle. They was about a foot 'cross and a foot deep. Us used to have
one good gourd us kep' lard in and li'l gourds to drink out of.
"Massa never 'lowed us slaves go to church but they have big holes in
the fields they gits down in and prays. They done that way 'cause the
white folks didn't want them to pray. They used to pray for freedom.
"When the white folks go off they writes on the meal and flour with they
fingers. That the way they know if us steal meal. Sometime they take a
stick and write in front of the door so if anybody go out they step on
that writin' and the massa know. That the way us larn how to write.
"Old massa didn't give 'em much to eat. When they comes in out of the
field they goes work for other folks for something to eat.
"They jus' have a old frame with planks to sleep on and no mattress or
nothin'. In winter they have to keep the fire goin' all night to keep
from freezin'. They put a old quilt down on the floor for the li'l
folks. They have a li'l trough us used to eat out of with a li'l wooden
paddle. Us didn't know nothin' 'bout knives and forks.
"I never did git nothin' much to eat. My sister she de cook and sometime
when the white folks gone us go up to the big house and she give us
somethin'. But she make us wash the mouth after us finish eatin', so
they won't be no crumbs in our mouth.
"Massa used to beat 'em all the time. My brudder tell old massa sometime
he git hongry and gwine have to come ask de niggers for somethin' to
eat. He say he never do that, but he did, 'cause after freedom he go to
West Texas and some niggers with him and he los' everything and, sho'
'nough, old massa have to go to my brudder and ask him for food and a
shelter to sleep under. Then he say if he had it to do over, he
wouldn't treat the hands so bad.
"One time my brudder slip off de plantation and they almost beat him to
death. He told 'em he had to do somethin' to git somethin' to eat. They
used to put 'em 'cross a log or barrel to beat 'em. My mammy had a strop
'bout eight inch wide they used to beat 'em with.
"Most clothes what we git is from the Iles, what was rich folks and
lives close by. They folks lives in DeRidder, in Louisiana, I hears.
They treated the slaves like white folks.
"On Christmas time they give us a meal. I 'member that. I don't 'member
no other holidays.
"When us git sick us go to the woods and git herbs and roots and make
tea and medicine. We used to git Blackhaw root and cherry bark and
dogwood and chinquapin bark, what make good tonic. Black snakeroot and
swamproot make good medicine, too.
"My mammy told us we was free and we starts right off and walks to
Sugartown, 'bout 8 mile away. I 'member my brudder wades 'cross a pool
totin' me.
"I used to nuss Dr. Frasier. He used to be the high sheriff in
DeRidder.
420182
HENRY H. BUTTLER, 87, venerable graduate of Washburn College,
Topeka, Kansas, and ex-school teacher, was born a slave to Mr.
George Sullivan on his 300 acre plantation in Farquier Co.,
Virginia. Henry and a number of other slaves were transported to
Arkansas in 1863, and Henry escaped and joined the Union Army. He
now lives at 1308 E. Bessie St., Fort Worth, Texas.
"My name is Henry H. Buttler and I am past 87 years of age. That figure
may not be accurate, but you must realize that there were no authentic
records made of slave births. I estimate my age on the work I was doing
at the commencement of the Civil War and the fact that I was large
enough to be accepted as a soldier in the Union Army, in the year of
1864.
"I was born on the plantation of George Sullivan, in Farquier Co.,
Virginia. The plantation was situated in the valley at the base of Bull
Mountain, and presented a beautiful picture. The plantation consisted of
about 30 acres, with about 30 slaves, though this number varied and
sometimes reached 50. Mr. Sullivan owned my mother and her children, but
my father was owned by Mr. John Rector, whose place was adjacent to
ours.
"The slave quarters consisted of a group of one-room log cabins, with no
flooring, and very crude furnishings. There were bunks and benches and a
table and the fireplace provided the means for cooking and heating.
"The food was wholesome and of sufficient quantity. In that period about
all the food was produced and processed on the plantation, which
eliminated any reason for failure to provide ample food. The meat was
home cured and the ham and bacon had a superior flavor.
"On the Sullivan place there existed consideration for human feelings
but on the Rector place neither the master nor the overseer seemed to
understand that slaves were human beings. One old slave called Jim, on
the Rector place, disobeyed some rule and early one morning they ordered
him to strip. They tied him to the whipping post and from morning until
noon, at intervals, the lash was applied to his back. I, myself, saw and
heard many of the lashes and his cries for mercy.
"One morning a number of slaves were ordered to lay a fence row on the
Rector place. The overseer said, 'This row must be laid to the Branch
and left in time to roll those logs out in the back woods.' It was
sundown when we laid the last rail but the overseer put us to rolling
logs without any supper and it was eleven when we completed the task.
Old Pete, the ox driver, became so exhausted that he fell asleep without
unyoking the oxen. For that, he was given 100 lashes.
"The slaves were allowed to marry but were compelled to first obtain
permission from the master. The main factor involved in securing the
master's consent was his desire to rear negroes with perfect physiques.
On neither plantation was there any thought or compassion when a sale or
trade was in question. I have seen the separation of husband and wife,
child and mother, and the extreme grief of those involved, and the lash
administered to a grieving slave for neglecting their work. All this
made the marriages a farce.
"In 1863 Mr. Sullivan transported about 40 of us slaves to Arkansas,
locating us on a farm near Pine Bluff, so we would not be taken by the
Federal soldiers. The general faithfulness of the slave was noticeable
then, as they had a chance to desert and go to free states. But I think
I was the only one who deserted Mr. Sullivan. I went to Federal
Headquarters at Fort Smith, Arkansas, and was received into the army. We
campaigned in Arkansas and nearby territory. The major battle I fought
in was that of Pine Bluff, which lasted one day and part of one night.
"After I was mustered out of the army, I set out to get an education and
entered a grade school at Pine Bluff. I worked after school at any job I
could secure and managed to enter Washburn College, in Topeka, Kansas.
After I graduated I followed steam engineering for four years, but later
I went to Fort Worth and spent 22 years in educational work among my
people. I exerted my best efforts to advance my race.
"I married Lucia Brown in 1880 and we had three children, all of whom
are dead. There is just my wife and me left of the family, and we have a
$75.00 per month Union soldier's pension.
420283
WILLIAM BYRD, 97, was born a slave of Sam Byrd, near Madisonville,
Texas. William was with his master during the Civil War. The old
Negro is very feeble, but enjoyed talking about old times. He lives
in Madisonville.
"I has a bill of sale what say I's born in 1840, so I knows I's
ninety-seven years old, and I's owned by Marse Sam Byrd. My mother's
name was Fannie and I dunno pappy's name, 'cause my mother allus say she
found me a stray in the woods. I allus 'lieves my master was my pappy,
but I never did know for sho'.
"Our quarters was log and the bed built with poles stuck in the cracks
and cowhide stretched over, and we'd gather moss 'bout once a month and
make it soft. When it was real cold we'd git close together and I don't
care how cold it got, we'd sleep jes' as warm as these here feather
beds.
"I split rails and chopped cotton and plowed with a wooden plow and druv
Marse Byrd lots, 'cause he was a trader, slave trade most the time. He
was good to us and give us lots to eat. He had a big garden and plenty
sugar cane, and brown sugar. We'd press the juice out the cane 'tween
two logs and cook it in the big washpot.
"We had sheepskin clothes in cold weather, with the fur part inside, no
shoes less'n we wropped our feet in fur hides. But them clothes was
warmer than these here cotton overalls. They're plumb cold!
Marse Sam was full of life and Missus Josie was real good. They had a
nice home of that day, made out split logs and four rooms and a hall two
ways through it.
"That great iron piece hung jes' outside the door and Marse Sam hit it
at 3:30 every mornin'. If we didn't muster out he come round with that
cat-o-nine-tails and let us have it, and we knowed what that bell was
for nex' mornin'. Sometimes when Marse Sam was gone, we'd have a
overseer. He'd let us go swimmin' in the creek when the work was done.
"If a nigger was mean Marse Sam give him fifty licks over a log the
first time and seventy-five licks the second time and 'bout that time he
most gen'rally had a good nigger. If they was real mean and he couldn't
do nothin' with 'em, he put them in the jail with a chain on the feets
for three days, and fed 'em through a crack in the wall.
"On Christmas Marse Sam had a great big eggnog and kilt a big beef and
had fireworks, and the nigger, he know Christmas was come. We had plenty
to eat and eggnog and did 'bout what we pleased that day and New Year's.
The white folks allus said what we'd do on them days we'd do all year.
That's all foolishment, but some still believes in it.
"They give a big dance and all night supper when war started. Then Marse
Sam, he carries me for waterboy and cook and to tend his hosses. He had
two, and rid one this day and the other nex' day. He was 'fraid one git
kilt and then he wouldn't be slam a-foot.
"When them big guns went to poppin', I jes' couldn't stand it without
gittin' in a brush top. Then marse goes and gits shot and I has to be
his nuss. But, Lawd-a-me, one them Yankee gals, she falls in love with
marse whilst he lays nearly dead, and she say, 'William, he's mine, so
you got to take good care of him.' And him with a plumb good wife back
home!
"When Marse Sam git well, he say he's goin' to 'nother place to fight.
He was with General Lee when that old war was over and that there Yankee
General Grant takes General Lee prisoner, and Marse Sam won't leave his
general, and he say to me, 'William, you got to go home alone.'
"I lights out a-foot to Texas and it's most a year befo' I gits home. I
travels day and night at first. I buys some things to eat but every time
I goes by a farmhouse I steals a chicken. Sometimes I sho' gits hongry.
When I git to the house, Missus Josie faints, 'cause she thunk Marse Sam
ain't with me and he mus' be dead. I tells her he's in prison and she
say she'll give me $2.00 a month to stay till he gits back. I's plumb
crazy 'bout a little gal called 'Cricket,' 'cause she so pert and full
of live, so I stays. We gits us a cabin and that's all to our weddin'.
We stays a year befo' Marse Sam comes back.
"He was the plumb awfulest sight you ever done seed! His clothes is tore
offen his body and he ain't shaved in three months and he's mos' starved
to death. Missus Josie she don't even rec'nize him and wouldn't 'low him
in till I tells her dat am Marse Sam, all right. He stays sick a whole
year.
"I thinks if them Yankees didn't 'tend to fix some way for us pore
niggers, dey oughtn't turn us a-loose. Iffen de white folks in de South
hadn't been jes' what they is, us niggers been lots worser off than we
was. In slavery time when the nigger am sick, his master pay de bills,
but when nigger sick now, that's his own lookout.
"I never done nothin' but farm and odd jobs. I been married five times,
but only my las' wife am livin' now. My four boys and two gals is all
farmin' right here in the county and they helps us out. We gits by
somehow.
420277
LOUIS CAIN, 88, was born in North Carolina, a slave of Samuel Cain.
After Louis was freed, he came to Texas, and has farmed near
Madisonville over sixty years.
"I knows I's birthed in 1849, 'cause I had a bill of sale. It say that.
My master traded me to Massa Joe Cutt for a hundred acres of land.
That's in 1861, and I 'members it well. My daddy was Sam Cain, name
after old Massa Cain, and mammy was Josie Jones, 'cause she owned by
'nother master. Mammy was birthed in North Carolina, but daddy allus say
he come from Africy. He say they didn't work hard over there, 'cause all
they et come out the jungle, and they had all the wives they wanted.
That was the 'ligion over there.
"Our quarters was made of logs, in a long shed six rooms long, like
cowsheds or chicken houses, and one door to each room. The bed was a
hole dug in a corner and poles around and shucks and straw. We'd sleep
warm all night long, but it wouldn't do in this country in summertime.
"Massa give us plenty to eat. Our cornbread was what you calls water
pone bread and cooked in the ashes. We didn't have no stove. Massa was a
great hunter and allus had venison and game. They was plenty fish, too.
"Massa Cain was purty good to his slaves and mean to them if they didn't
behave. Missy was a good woman. They lived in a two-story rock house
with plenty trees all 'round.
"We worked long as we could see, from four o'clock in the mornin', and
them milked twenty cows and fed the work stock. They was fifty acres and
not 'nough niggers to work it easy.
"If some niggers was mean they'd git it. Massa tied they hands to they
feet and tied them to a tree and hit 'bout twenty-five or fifty licks
with a rawhide belt. Hide and blood flew then. Next mornin' he'd turn
them loose and they'd have to work all day without nothin' to eat. He
had a cabin called jail for the nigger women, and chain them in with
cornbread and one glass of water.
"One nigger run to the woods to be a jungle nigger, but massa cotched
him with the dogs and took a hot iron and brands him. Then he put a bell
on him, in a wooden frame what slip over the shoulders and under the
arms. He made that nigger wear the bell a year and took it off on
Christmas for a present to him. It sho' did make a good nigger out of
him.
"In the summer time they had camp meetin' and baptized in the creek,
white folks first while the old nigger mammies shouts, and then the
niggers.
"On Saturday mornin' us men grated corn for bread the next week and the
women washed massa's clothes and our'n. On Saturday night we'd have a
dance all night long, and Sunday the men went to see they wives or
sweethearts and us young'uns went swimmin' in the creek. Every night but
Saturday we had to go to bed at nine o'clock. Massa hit the big steel
piece and we knowed it was time to put out the torches and pile in.
"On Christmas I'd stand by the gate, to open it for the company, and
they'd throw nuts and candy to me. That night all the slaves what could
brung they banjoes and fiddles and played for the white folks to dance
all night. Them great old days are done gone. Most the men be full that
good, old eggnog.