towards our plantation, Old Mist'ess tuk her old pacin' mule and all her
money and made Uncle Moses go down on de river wid her to help hide 'em.
I told her I was gwine tell dem yankees she had done stole my uncle and
hid him so he wouldn't hear 'bout freedom. And when dem yankees finally
did git dar, dey was singin' some sort of a song 'bout freedom. I lit
out to runnin', and it was way atter midnight 'fore Old Mist'ess found
me. I was pretty nigh skeered to death. Dey called all de slaves
together and told 'em dey was free as jack rabbits, and 'deed dat was de
truth. Us stayed dar for years. It looked lak us warn't never gwine to
leave.
"Grandma started out to wuk for herself as a granny 'oman, and Old
Mist'ess give her a mule to ride on to make her trips from one farm to
another. It was a long time 'fore Niggers could git 'nough money
together for to buy land of deir own, and it seems lak it was a long
time 'fore schools for Niggers was sot up.
"When me and Oscar Harris got married, us had a big weddin' wid
evvything good to eat what us could git, and plenty of wine to drink. De
dancin' and good time went on most all night. I had a reg'lar weddin'
dress made out of pretty white swiss trimmed wid lots of lace and it had
a long train. I wore long white gloves. Tucks went 'round my petticoat
from de knees to de lace what aidged de bottom, and my draw's was white
cambric, gathered at de knee wid a wide ruffle what was tucked and
trimmed up pretty. I married on Saddy night and dat called for a second
day dress, 'cause I jus' had to go to church next day and show dat man
off. Anyhow, my second day dress was blue cotton wid white lace on it,
and I wore a big white plumed hat draped down over one eye. Wid de
second day dress I wore dem same draw's, petticoat, and gloves what I
was married in. Me and Oscar's five chillun was Mary, Annie Belle,
Daniel, Cleveland, and Austin.
"My old man and all my chillun is daid 'cept Daniel, and I don't know
whar he is. I wants to git married again, but dese hyar jealious Niggers
'round hyar says if I does de giver'ment is gwine to cut off my old age
pension, and I sho' don't want to loose dat money. No Sir!
"I didn't take in nothin' 'bout Lincoln, Davis or dat man Washington.
Dem days chillun had to take a back seat. When old folks wanted to talk,
dey jus' sent chillun on 'bout dey business. One thing I does know: I'd
sho' ruther have times lak dey is now. Yessum, I sho' had.
"I jined Randolph Baptist Church in Greene County 'cause I felt de urge
and knowed it had done got to be my duty to jine up. I'se been a Baptist
ever since, and will be one 'til I die; so was all my folks 'fore me.
Folks when dey jine de church ought to live right so dey kin see de good
Lord and have a restin' place atter dey is done wid dis sinful world.
Yessum, I jined dat Randolph Baptist Church way down in Greene County a
long time ago."
Mary A. Crawford
Re-search Worker
Henderson Harris--Ex-Slave
Henderson Harris was born August 19, 1858, in Talbot County. His parents
were Frederick and Adeline Harris of Jones County, but Henderson
remembers nothing about them because they both were sold on the block
and left him when he was just a few months old.
Mr. Bill Adams, Henderson's owner, lived on a large plantation on the
old stage road between Macon and Columbus. There were about three
hundred acres in this plantation and between thirty and fifty slaves.
Mr. Adams was just a "straight out farmer, and as good a marster as ever
wore shoe leather. 'Marse Bill' was a putty hard man about business, and
meant 'skat' when he said 'skat'".
He had a white preacher and a white doctor on his plantation, and
expected all the Negroes to go to 'preachin' on Sunday afternoon, and if
any of them were sick enough to need a doctor, they had him. The doctor
came around about once a month and every slave was looked after.
The slaves were allowed Saturday afternoons, provided there was no
fodder or other stuff down in the field to be put into the barn loft in
case of rain. From breakfast on, they had all Sunday, even the
cook and other house servants. "Ole Miss had the cook bake up light
bread and make pies on Saturday to do at the big house through Sunday."
The first work that Henderson remembers doing was "totin peaches to the
pigs" and "drapin' peas".
He recalls nothing about the Yankees coming through, but remembers the
others telling how they burned the warehouse and drove off the cattle
and hogs.
After freedom his mammy and daddy returned to 'ole Marster's' plantation
and he and the other seven children lived with them and worked for
'Marse Bill'.
The old fellow is very superstitious and firmly believes that the
"squinch" owl's note is a "sho sign o' death."
Henderson says that he is able to work and that he cleans yards, cuts
wood, and does almost any kind of job [HW: that] he can find.
Henderson Harris
808 E. Slaton Avenue
Griffin, Georgia
September 23, 1936.
Velma Bell
District #2
Augusta, Ga.
EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW
Uncle Shang Harris
Toccoa, Georgia (Stephens County)
"Uncle Shang" Harris, at the age of 97, is more vigorous than many men
twenty years younger. Erect and stocky, holding his white woolly head
high, he retains the full favor of living. When the interviewer entered
his cabin he rose from the supper table wiping from his mouth the crumbs
of a hearty meal, and peered uncertainly through the gathering dark.
"Does I 'member 'bout slav'ey times?" His face relaxed into a broad
smile, "G-lory, hallelujah, I sho does! I was born den and freed den.
What you wanter know? I kin tell you all about it." He led the way to
two chairs near the stove.
"My marster was Mr. Bob Alexander. He lived in Franklin County jes' dis
side o' Carnesville. He treated me good--yes mam, he sho did. My marster
didn't have no beatin' o' his niggers. I didn't do no work back in dem
times--nuttin' but play. Me and my sister belonged to de youngest boy
(dey was seven boys in dat family) and we jes' climbed trees and
frolicked all de time. We had plenty in de eatin' line too.
"But law chile, eve'ybody didn't have dat. Some de marsters tied dey
niggers to posts and whupped 'em till dey nigh killed 'em. Lots of 'em
run away and hid in de woods. De marsters would put de dogs after you
jes' like a coon. Dey'd run you and tree you"--imitating the sound of
baying dogs--"oh, glory, hallelujah--dat's de way dey done 'em! I'se
seed bare feets all cracked up wid de cold. We don't have no cold
weather now. Why, I'se seed big pine trees bust wide open--done froze,
and de niggers would be out in dat kind o' weather. But dey'd ruther do
dat dan stay and git beat to death. Many a night jes' 'bout dark, I'd be
a-settin' in my cabin wid my ole lady (dat was after I got older) and
see somebody prowlin' roun' in de bushes, and I'd know hit was some po'
nigger was hidin' and didn't had nuttin' to eat. My marster nuse to say,
'Harris, when you see somebody hongry, gi' 'im sumpin' to eat'. We
didn't never turn 'em down even when dey look so bad dey was right
scarey.
"No'm, I never was sold. Mr. Bob nuse to say, 'I got hogs, horses, mules
and cows to sell, but no niggers.' He had 'bout twenty slaves. De
biggest portion of 'em stayed on de farm.
"Lots o' folks did sell dey niggers, and sometimes dey'd take yo' chile
and go to Alabama or Virginia, and you wouldn't never see him no mo'.
Dey kept de dark ones together and de bright ones together. Hit didn't
make no diffunce 'bout families. Dey warn't no marryin' 'mongst de
niggers way back in time. De marsters wanted you to increase to give 'em
more niggers, but dey didn't had no marryin'. I had three wives and I
got my fourth one now. Dey all treated me good.
"Dat mixed-up color in niggers come from slav'ey times. Some de marsters
beat de slave women to make 'em give up to 'em.
"Dey talks a heap 'bout de niggers stealin'. Well, you know what was de
fust stealin' done? Hit was in Afriky, when de white folks stole de
niggers jes' like you'd go get a drove o' horses and sell 'em. Dey'd
bring a steamer down dere wid a red flag, 'cause dey knowed dem folks
liked red, and when dey see it dey'd follow it till dey got on de
steamer. Den when it was all full o' niggers dey'd bring 'em over here
and sell 'em.
"No'm I never was hired out to nobody in slav'ey times. Didn't I tole
you we didn't do no work? I never seed no money--not a nickel. De most
money I ever seed was when my boss buried some when de Yankees was.
"We nuse to have frolics and break-downs all de time--quiltin's and
finger-pickin's and dances and all sech as dat. Finger-pickin's was when
we'd pick de cotton off de seeds by hand. We'd spread it down in front
o' de fire place 'cause it was easier to pick when it was hot.
"Does I 'member de old songs? Hallelujah, I sho does!" The old darkey
began to pat his foot and clap his hands while he sang, "Pickin' out de
cotton an' de bolls all rotten", repeating the same line over and over
to a sing-song melody as impossible of transcription as a bird-call.
Suddenly his smiling face fell serious and the song stopped.
"But since de Lawd saved me from a life o' sin, I don't think about dem
things. I don't 'member 'em much now. I been saved forty odd years."
"Was that a sinful song, Uncle Shang?"
"Dat's de devil's song, dat is. A-dancin' an' a stompin' dat-a-way!
"Folks nuse to have fights sometimes at de frolics but dey didn't do no
killin'. Hit ain't like dat now. Dey stob you now, but dey didn't do dat
den. Somebody'd always stop 'em 'fore it got dat fur."
"Yes'm, we sung spirituals. We sung 'De good ole-time religion', an'
sech as dat. I can't 'member all dem good songs now."
His middle-aged wife, washing dishes over the wood stove, struck up, "I
am bound for de promise land," and he joined in with a firm voice. But
neither remembered many songs distinctly.
"We didn't had no schools. Dey wouldn't let de white chillen tell us
about books. One day I axed about sumpin' in a book, and one de chillen
say, 'Mamma tole me not to learn you nuttin' or she'd whup me'."
Asked about holidays, Uncle Shang replied, "Thanksgiving we give thanks
in de church on our knees. Warn't no slave gallery. White and colored
all together and shouted together.
"Christmas we frolic and eat cake. We had serenades, too, on banjoes and
old tin pans and whatever you wanted to make a noise. And a gallon o'
liquor--anything you want!" with a loud laugh.
"Yes, mam, I 'members when de war broke out. Hit was on a Sunday
morning, jes' as clear and bright as could be. And Gen'l Lee prayed till
it thundered. Jes' 'fore de sun riz he was fixin' to go to a battle. He
got down on his knees and he jarred de worl'. Yes, mam, hit thundered
and when de folks heered it, dey all commenced runnin' todes him wid de
butts o' dey guns, and stacked de guns 'round a sweet-apple tree." Uncle
Shang was not quite clear as to who had stacked the guns, but he was
sure it had been done.
"I 'members when de Yankees come too. De Yankees come in--well,
hallelujah!--one Friday mornin' 'bout sun-up. Mamma took a notion to go
out in de syrup-cane patch, and I was settin' on de fence. I could hear
dem cannons a-boomin' and de sun was a-risin' so red jes' like blood.
Den I seed de Yankees a-comin' wid dey blue coats on an' all dem brass
buttons jes' a-shinin'. I holler, 'Mamma--look a-yo-o-onder!' One man
had a flag wid red on it--dat's for blood. One man come in a hurry and
say, 'All come to de house.'
"Den he look at me a-settin' on de fence, and he say, 'Hey, boy, you
mighty fat'. He talk and he talk and by dat time de yard was full o'
Yankees. 'Lemme ask you sumpin', he say, 'Where's de horses?' Wid dat,
he shot off a pistol--BAM!
"My boss had done took 'em off. I say, 'I don' know nuttin' 'bout 'em.'
"All dey got from our house was a big sack o' flour. Dey didn't burn
nuttin' o' ours. Dey say, 'You all feelin' so good, havin' a good
time--we won't take nuttin.'
"De calvary was here 'fore de Yankees was. Dey had on blue coats, too.
Dey make de boss haul corn all day a-Sunday to fed dey horses.
"Dey try to git de niggers to go back North wid 'em, and dey had a big
crowd o' colored goin', but I wouldn't go. A fust cousin to my Dad left
'cause dey beat him so. I think he done well in de North. But I didn't
want to go.
"After freedom was, some de marsters wouldn't tell you. But our marster
tole us. He said, 'You free as I is. If you want to stay wid me, all
right. If not, you know where to go.'
"Mistis warn't like de boss," (mimicking a precise, slightly acid
voice), "She say, 'I don't want to hear of no fightin' now. You'll git
your arms cut off if you fight.'
"But de boss keep her cooled down. He say, 'Arms cut off--huh! You git
yo's broke off if you don't hush.'
"After freedom, we didn't work for no regular wages--jes' knock about
like chillen 'round de house. I don't know how old I was den, but I
warn't no chicken. After while I worked on de railroad, de fust one
here, what used wood burners. I helped build it. Dey's great tall pines
growin' now where dat fill was made.
"White folks nuse to travel in wagons way back in time. When dey tuk de
cotton to New York dey went to Athens in de wagons wid oxen or mules,
and den to New York on de train. De ladies rid 'round town in
carriages--Rockaways--dem low one-hoss things. De driver sat on top. He
wore a big beaver hat and good clothes and heavy gloves.
"White folks had lots o' dances and eve'ything went well. People was
mighty nice in dis country.
"One my young bosses was a doctor. Dey didn't give dem little pills you
have now, what don't do no good. Dey made tea out o' devil's shoestring,
and yerbs out de woods, and blue mass pills. When babies come, dey had
mid-wives. Dey didn't do nuttin' to cut de pains--=you got to have dem=.
"Yes, mam, I knows 'bout cunjurs--plenty o' cunjurs. Dem cunjur-folks
takes weeds and yerbs, and fixes you so you can't sleep and can't eat
and bark like a dog. One man told a girl he'd fix her so green flies 'ud
follow her all de time--and dey did!
"One of 'em gin me some stuff once. Yes, mam, like to killed de old pap.
I had done found some money in Alabama, and another man wanted me to gi'
it to him so he put sumpin' in my coffee. When I tasted dat coffee I
started cussin' (I was wicked den)--I couldn't sleep--couldn't rest. My
nephew said, 'Somebody done hurt you!' My father-in-law tuk it off. He
made some tea out o' rattle-snake master, and I drunk dat and swallowed
a silver dime. Dat tuk de cunjur off. Some says it's good to take nine
silver pieces and boil 'em and drink de water.
"I knows sumpin' 'bout ghoses, too, but my foots got temper in 'em and
when I sees anything, I runs. People say dey ain't no sech thing, but
dey is.
"Dey was a house--people couldn't live dere, but a fellow said he could
go dere, so he went. Fust thing he seed a cat rarin' and pitchin' in de
fireplace. Den dey was a kickin' up in de loft, and here come a big old
dog a-spittin', and fire all spranglin' out. He rared and growled. Den
in come a woman. He say, 'What'll you have, lady?' She say, 'Dey's ten
thousand dollars buried right where I'm a-standin'.
"He stayed dere till he got it too. De devil was trying to scare him
off, but she wanted him to have it.
"People nuse to bury lots o' money 'way back in time, and lots o' folks
is found it.
"Good-luck and bad-luck signs, you say? Well, lemme see," The old man
paused to reflect and scratch his head. "Well, de bes' luck sign is to
git in wid de Lawd. Keep wid Him; He'll keep you sweet in yo' soul.
God's goin' to come down de mid-air. I seen dat one time. Jesus come to
me--you never seen de like of it--de chariots--oh, glory!--and de
purtiest singin' you ever heered, O-oh--g-lory, hallelujah! Dat was jes'
last year.
"I had a good life. I been enjoyin' myself. I enjoys myself now, but I
so old now I jes' staggers over de place. Can't do no work but chop wood
once in a while. I enjoys myself in prayer.
"When de relief folks fus' come here, dey wouldn't give me nuttin' but I
been prayin' and glory to Jesus I been gittin' little sumpin' ever
since dat time.
"De way things is goin' now, it's better dan in slav'ey times, 'cause
dey ain't no knockin' and beatin'. Things is gone too fur for dat now.
If eve'ybody would be o' one mind and serve de Lawd, dey wouldn't be no
troubles.
"I don't know whether I'll get th'ough dis winter or not. Hit was mighty
cold last year, and dey warn't much fuel. But I thanks de Lawd for all
He's done for me, and I'se ready to meet Him when he comes."
PLANTATION LIFE as viewed by Ex-Slave
TOM HAWKINS
163 Bremen Street
Athens, Georgia.
Written by: Sadie B. Hornsby
Athens --
Edited by: Sarah H. Hall
Athens --
Leila Harris
Augusta, Ga.
TOM HAWKINS
Ex-Slave--Age 75.
Tom was nowhere to be seen when the interviewer mounted the steps of his
cabin. Daisy, his wife, was ironing on the back porch and when she
learned the object of the proposed interview, she readily agreed to
induce Tom to talk. She approached a basement door and called: "Tom,
here's one of dem giver'ment ladies what's come to hear you talk 'bout
slavery days." Tom replied: "All right, Miss Daisy, I'se a-comin'." The
old man soon appeared feeling his way with his cane carefully before
each hesitant step. Tom is blind. Established comfortably in his
favorite chair, he talked freely.
"I was borned on Marse Johnny Poore's plantation 'bout four miles f'um
Belton, South Callina. Marse Johnny owned my Ma, Mornin' Poore, and all
three of her chillun. Dey was me and Johnny, and Mollie. My Pa was Tom
Hawkins and he was named for his owner. De Hawkins plantation was 'bout
a mile f'um de Poore place. Atter Ma married Pap, dey each one had to
stay on wid deir own Marster. Dey couldn't stay on de same plantation
together. I don't 'member much 'bout Gran'ma Jennie Poore 'cept dat she
was de cook at de big house. Gran'pa Wade Poore was de blacksmith and
Marse Johnny got a big price when he sold him to Dr. Chandler. Some of
de slaves made demselfs corded beds and others jus' had makeshifts. De
beds and cabins was good 'nough for de Niggers den, 'cause dey never had
knowed no better. Gangs of slaves slept together lak hogs in dem
dirt-floored log cabins.
"Chilluns what was big 'nough to do anything had to wuk. I was a moughty
little chap when dey started me in as houseboy. I slept on a trun'le
(trundle) bed in Miss Annie's room. In de daytime my little trun'le bed
was rolled back out of sight under Miss Annie's big old four poster
teester bed. I kep' a fire burnin' in her room winter and summer. Night
times she would call me. 'Tom! Tom!' Sometimes I was so soun' asleep I
didn't answer. Den pop, she would hit me on de head wid her long stick.
Den I knowed hit was time to fire up her pipe. She smoked dat pipe a
pow'ful lot atter Marse Johnny died.
"Grown slaves made a little money, but I never got none 'til atter de
war. I didn't have no cause to want no money. Miss Annie, she give me
evvything I needed.
"Oh, but us had plenty of good things to eat on de Poore
plantation--meat and bread wid lots of turnips and 'tatoes. 'Bout once a
month dey give us lallyhoe. Dey calls dat 'lasses now. Us et our
breakfast and dinner out of wooden bowls. Under a long shed built next
to de kitchen was a long trough. At night dey crumbled cornbread in it,
and poured it full of buttermilk. Grown folks and chilluns all gathered
'roun' dat old trough and et out of it wid deir wooden spoons. No Ma'am,
dere warn't no fightin' 'roun' dat trough. Dey all knowed better'n dat.
"Us got 'possums and rabbits de best ways us could--cotch 'em in traps,
hit 'em wid rocks, and trailed 'em wid dogs. Us lakked 'possums baked
wid 'tatoes, but most of de rabbits was stewed wid dumplin's. All our
cookin' was done on big open fireplaces. Dey didn't fry nothin' dem
days; leastwise dey never give de slaves no fried victuals. Grown folks
seined for fish in Big Crick and Saluda River at night, 'cause dey
couldn't git away f'um field wuk in de day. Chillun cotch a heap of fish
wid hook and line. De river and crick bofe run thoo' Miss Annie's
plantation so us didn't have to ax for a pass evvy time us went a
fishin'. Us allus had to have a pass if us left de plantation for
anything or de patterollers was apt to git you and look out den, for you
was sho' to git a larrupin' if dey cotch you off f'um home widout no
pass.
"Dere warn't but one gyarden on de Poore plantation, and it was big
enough to feed all de white folks and slaves too. Two whole acres of dat
gyarden was sowed down in turnips.
"Chilluns didn't wear but one piece of clothes in summer; dat was a
shirt. In winter dey doubled up on us wid two shirts. I 'members how dem
shirt tails used to pop in de wind when us runned fast. Us chillun used
to tie up de 'bacco, what us stole f'um Miss Annie, in de under-arm part
of de long loose sleeves of our shirts. Us didn't git no shoes for our
foots, winter or summer, 'til us was ten years old.
"Marse Johnny Poore, he was kilt in de war and den Old Mist'ess, she was
our Miss Annie, looked atter de plantation 'til her only child, young
Miss Ann, married Marse Tom Dean. Den he helped Miss Ann 'tend to her
business. Dey was moughty good to us. Miss Annie done her own
overseein'. She rid over dat plantation onct or twict a day on her hoss.
"Our white folks lived in a big old two-story house what sot off f'um de
road up on a high hill in a big oak grove. Miss Annie's own room was a
shed room on dat house. De upstairs room was kept for comp'ny. Unkle
Wade Norris Poore was Miss Annie's car'iage driver. De car'iage was
called a surrey den.
"Dar was 'bout four or five hunderd acres in our plantation. Miss Annie
kept 'bout a hunderd slaves. She was all time sellin' 'em for big prices
atter she done trained 'em for to be cooks, housegals, houseboys,
carriage drivers, and good wash 'omans. She wukked 75 slaves in her
fields. Her Niggers was waked by four o'clock and had to be in de field
by sunup. Dey come in 'bout dark. Atter supper, de mens made up shoes,
horse collars, and anything else lak dat what was needed; de 'omans spun
thread and wove cloth.
"Miss Annie was her own whuppin' boss. She beat on 'em for most
anything. She had a barrel wid a pole run thoo' it, and she would have a
slave stretched out on dat barrel wid his clothes off and his hands and
foots tied to de pole. Den Miss Annie would fire up her pipe and set
down and whup a Nigger for a hour at a time. Miss Annie would pull my
ears and hair when I didn't do to suit her, but she never whupped me.
Miss Annie didn't need no jail for her slaves. She could manage 'em
widout nothin' lak dat, and I never did hear of no jails in de country
'roun' whar us lived.
"Yes Ma'am, I seed Old Miss sell de slaves what she trained. She made
'em stand up on a block, she kept in de back yard, whilst she was
a-auctionin' 'em off. I seed plenty of traders go by our place in wagons
what dey had deir somepin' t'eat and beddin' in, and deir slaves was
walkin' 'long behind de wagon, gwine on to be sold, but dere warn't none
of 'em in chains.
"Dere warn't no schools whar slaves could git book larnin' in dem days.
Dey warn't even 'lowed to larn to read and write. When Dr. Cannon found
out dat his carriage driver had larned to read and write whilst he was
takin' de doctor's chillun to and f'um school, he had dat Niggers thumbs
cut off and put another boy to doin' de drivin' in his place.
"Washin'ton Church was de name of de meetin' house whar us Niggers on de
Poore plantation went to church wid our white folks. Couldn't none of us
read no Bible and dere warn't none of de Niggers on our plantation ever
converted and so us never had no baptizin's. De preacher preached to de
white folks fust and den when he preached to de Niggers all he ever said
was: 'It's a sin to steal; don't steal Marster's and Mist'ess' chickens
and hogs;' and sech lak. How could anybody be converted on dat kind of
preachin'? And 'sides it never helped none to listen to dat sort of
preachin' 'cause de stealin' kept goin' right on evvy night. I never did
see no fun'rals in dem days.
"Niggers didn't run to no North. Dey run to de South, 'cause dem white
folks up North was so mean to 'em. One Nigger, named Willis Earle, run
off to de woods and made hisself a den in a cave. He lived hid out in
dat cave 'bout 15 years.
"Old Miss give dem dat wanted one a cotton patch and she didn't make her
slaves wuk in her fields atter de dinner bell rung on Saddays. De mens
wukked in dem patches of deir own an Sadday evenin' whilst de 'omans
washed de clothes and cleaned up de cabins for de next week. Sadday
nights dey all got together and frolicked; picked de banjo, and drunk
whiskey. Didn't none of 'em git drunk, 'cause dey was used to it. Dar
was barrels of it whar dey stilled it on de place. On Sundays us went
f'um cabin to cabin holdin' prayer meetin's. Miss Annie 'pointed
diff'unt ones to look atter da stock evvy Sunday.