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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
WASHINGTON 1941
VOLUME XIV
SOUTH CAROLINA NARRATIVES
PART 1
Prepared by the Federal Writers' Project of the Works Progress
Administration for the State of South Carolina
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| TRANSCRIBER NOTES: |
|To reflect the individual character of this document,|
|inconsistencies in formatting have been retained. |
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|[HW: ] denotes a handwritten note. |
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INFORMANTS
Abrams, M. E. 1
Adams, Ezra 5
Adams, Mary 9
Adams, Victoria 10
Adamson, Frank 13
Andrews, Frances 17, 18
Arthur, Pete 19
Bacchus, Josephine 20
Ballard, William 26
Barber, Charley 29
Barber, Ed 34
Barber, Millie 38
Bates, Anderson 42
Bates, Millie 46
Bees, Welcome 48
Bell, Anne 51
Bevis, Caroline 55
Black, Maggie 57
Bluford, Fordon 62
Boulware, Samuel 65
Boyd, John 70
Bradley, Jane 74
Brice, Andy 75
Briggs, George 80, 89, 93
Bristow, Josephine 98
Broome, Anne 104
Brown, Hagar 107, 112, 115
Brown, Henry 118, 122
Brown, John C. 127
Brown, Mary Frances 131, 134
Brown, Sara 137, 141
Bryant, Margaret 143
Burrell, Savilla 149
Burton, C. B. 152
Butler, George Ann 153
Butler, Isaiah 155
Butler, Solbert 161
Cain, Granny 166, 168
Caldwell, Laura 169
Caldwell, Solomon 170
Cameron, Nelson 172
Campbell, Thomas 176
Cannon, Sylvia 180, 187
Caroline, Albert 197
Chisolm, Silvia 199
Chisolm, Tom 201
Cleland, Maria 204
Clifton, Peter 205
Coleman, Henry 210
Coleman, Rev. Tuff 216
Collier, Louisa 218
Collins, John 224
Corry, Bouregard 227
Craig, Caleb 229
Cunningham, Dinah 234
Daniels, Lucy 238
Davenport, John N. 240
Davenport, Moses 244
Davis, Charlie 245
Davis, Charlie 250
Davis, Heddie 254
Davis, Henry 260
Davis, Jesse 263
Davis, Lizzie 267, 288, 293
Davis, Louisa 299
Davis, Wallace 304, 306
Davis, William Henry 308
Dawkins, Elias 313
Dill, Will 319
Dixon, Thomas 324
Dorroh, Isabella 326
Downing, Laurence 329
Dozier, Washington 330
Duke, Alice 336
Durant, Silva (Sylvia) 337, 342
* * * * *
Project 1885-1
From Field Notes.
District No. 4.
April 27, 1937
Edited by:
Elmer Turnage
FOLK LORE: FOLK TALES (Negro).
"Marse Glenn had 64 slaves. On Sat'day night, de darkies would have a
little fun on de side. A way off from de big house, down in de pastur'
dar wuz about de bigges' gully what I is ebber seed. Dat wuz de place
whar us collected mos' ev'ry Sa'day night fer our lil' mite o' fun frum
de white folks hearin'. Sometime it wuz so dark dat you could not see de
fingers on yo' han' when you would raise it fo' your face. Dem wuz sho'
schreechy nights; de schreechiest what I is ever witnessed, in all o' my
born natu'al days. Den of cose, dar wuz de moonlight nights when a darky
could see; den he see too much. De pastur' wuz big and de trees made
dark spots in it on de brightest nights. All kind o' varmints tuck and
hollered at ye as ye being gwine along to reach dat gully. Cose us would
go in droves sometime, and den us would go alone to de gully sometime.
When us started together, look like us would git parted 'fo we reach de
gully all together. One of us see som'tin and take to runnin'. Maybe de
other darkies in de drove, de wouldn't see nothin' jes den. Dats zactly
how it is wid de spirits. De mout (might) sho de'self to you and not to
me. De acts raal queer all de way round. Dey can take a notion to scare
de daylights outtin you when you is wid a gang; or dey kin scare de
whole gang; den, on de other hand, dey kin sho de'self off to jes two or
three. It ain't never no knowin' as to how and when dem things is gwine
to come in your path right fo your very eyes; specially when you is
partakin' in some raal dark secret whar you is planned to act raal sof'
and quiet like all de way through.
"Dem things bees light on dark nights; de shines de'self jes like dese
'lectric lights does out dar in dat street ever' night, 'cept dey is a
scaird waary light dat dey shines wid. On light nights, I is seed dem
look, furs dark like a tree shad'er; den dey gits raal scairy white.
T'aint no use fer white folks to low dat it ain't no haints, an'
grievements dat follows ye all around, kaise I is done had to many
'spriences wid dem. Den dare is dese young niggers what ain't fit to be
called darkies, dat tries to ac' eddicated, and says dat it ain't any
spe'rits dat walks de earth. When dey lows dat to me, I rolls my old
eyes at dem an' axes dem how comes dey runs so fas' through de woods at
night. Yes sirree, dem fool niggers sees dem jes as I does. Raaly de
white folks doesn't have eyes fer sech as we darkies does; but dey bees
dare jes de same.
"Never mindin' all o' dat, we n'used to steal our hog ever' sa'day night
and take off to de gully whar us'd git him dressed and barbecued.
Niggers has de mos'es fun at a barbecue dat dare is to be had. As none
o' our gang didn't have no 'ligion, us never felt no scruples bout not
gettin de 'cue' ready fo' Sunday. Us'd git back to de big house along in
de evenin' o' Sunday. Den Marse, he come out in de yard an' low whar wuz
you niggers dis mornin'. How come de chilluns had to do de work round
here. Us would tell some lie bout gwine to a church 'siety meetin'. But
we got raal scairt and mose 'cided dat de best plan wuz to do away wid
de barbecue in de holler. Conjin 'Doc.' say dat he done put a spell on
ole Marse so dat he wuz 'blevin ev'y think dat us tole him bout Sa'day
night and Sunday morning. Dat give our minds 'lief; but it turned out
dat in a few weeks de Marse come out from under de spell. Doc never
even knowed nothin' bout it. Marse had done got to countin' his hogs
ever' week. When he cotch us, us wuz all punished wid a hard long task.
Dat cured me o' believing in any conjuring an' charmin' but I still
kno's dat dare is haints; kaise ever time you goes to dat gully at
night, up to dis very day, you ken hear hogs still gruntin' in it, but
you can't see nothing.
"After Marse Glenn tuck and died, all o' de white folks went off and
lef' de plantation. Some mo' folks dat wuz not o' quality, come to live
dare an' run de plantation. It wuz done freedom den. Wo'nt long fo dem
folks pull up and lef' raal onexpected like. I doesn't recollect what
dey went by, fat is done slipped my mind; but I must 'av knowed. But dey
lowed dat de house wuz to draffy and dat dey couldn't keep de smoke in
de chimney an' dat de doo's would not stay shet. Also dey lowed dat
folks prowled aroun' in de yard in de night time a keepin' dem awake.
"Den Marse Glenn's boys put Mammy in de house to keep it fer 'em. But
Lawd God! Mammy said dat de furs night she stayed dare de haints nebber
let her git not narr'y mite o' sleep. Us all had lowed dat wuz de raal
reason dem white folks lef out so fas'. When Mammy could not live in dat
big house whar she had stayed fer years, it won't no use fer nobody else
to try. Mammy low dat it de Marse a lookin' fer his money what he done
tuck and burried and de boys couldn't find no sign o' it. Atter dat, de
sons tuck an' tacked a sign on de front gate, offering $200.00 to de
man, white or black, dat would stay dar and fin' out whar dat money wuz
burried. Our preacher, the Rev. Wallace, lowed dat he would stay dar and
find out whar dat money wuz from de spirits. He knowed dat dey wuz tryin
to sho de spot what dat money wuz.
"He went to bed. A dog began running down dem steps; and a black cat run
across de room dat turned to white befo' it run into de wall. Den a pair
of white horses come down de stairway a rattling chains fer harness.
Next a woman dressed in white come in dat room. Brother Wallace up and
lit out dat house and he never went back no mo'.
"Another preacher tried stayin' dar. He said he gwine to keep his head
kivered plum up. Some'tin unkivered it and he seed a white goat a
grinnin' at him. But as he wuz a brave man and trus' de Lawd, he lowed,
'What you want wid me nohow?' The goat said, 'what is you doin' here.
Raise, I knows dat you ain't sleep.' De preacher say, 'I wants you to
tell me what ole Marse don tuck and hid dat money?' De goat grin and
low, 'How come you don' look under your pillar, sometime?' Den he run
away. De preacher hopped up and looked under de pillar, and dar wuz de
money sho nuf. Peers like it wuz de one on de lef' end o' de back porch,
but I jes remembers 'bout dat."
Source: Mrs. M. E. Abrams, Whitmire, S. C.; told her by old "uncle"
"Mad" Griffin, Whitmire, (Col. 82 yrs.) Interviewer: Caldwell Sims,
Union, S. C. 2/25/37.
Project #1655
Henry Grant
Columbia, S. C.
REFLECTIONS OF EZRA ADAMS
EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD
Ezra Adams is incapable of self-support, owing to ill health. He is very
well taken care of by a niece, who lives on the Caughman land just off
S. C. #6, and near Swansea, S. C.
"My mammy and pappy b'long to Marster Lawrence Adams, who had a big
plantation in de eastern part of Lancaster County. He died four years
after de Civil War and is buried right dere on de old plantation, in de
Adams family burying grounds. I was de oldest of de five chillun in our
family. I 'members I was a right smart size plowboy, when freedom come.
I think I must of been 'bout ten or eleven years old, then. Dere's one
thing I does know; de Yankees didn't tech our plantation, when they come
through South Carolina. Up in de northern part of de county they sho'
did destroy most all what folks had.
"You ain't gwine to believe dat de slaves on our plantation didn't stop
workin' for old marster, even when they was told dat they was free. Us
didn't want no more freedom than us was gittin' on our plantation
already. Us knowed too well dat us was well took care of, wid a plenty
of vittles to eat and tight log and board houses to live in. De slaves,
where I lived, knowed after de war dat they had abundance of dat
somethin' called freedom, what they could not wat, wear, and sleep in.
Yes, sir, they soon found out dat freedom ain't nothin', 'less you is
got somethin' to live on and a place to call home. Dis livin' on liberty
is lak young folks livin' on love after they gits married. It just don't
work. No, sir, it las' so long and not a bit longer. Don't tell me! It
sho' don't hold good when you has to work, or when you gits hongry. You
knows dat poor white folks and niggers has got to work to live,
regardless of liberty, love, and all them things. I believes a person
loves more better, when they feels good. I knows from experience dat
poor folks feels better when they has food in deir frame and a few dimes
to jingle in deir pockets. I knows what it means to be a nigger, wid
nothin'. Many times I had to turn every way I knowed to git a bite to
eat. I didn't care much 'bout clothes. What I needed in sich times was
food to keep my blood warm and gwine 'long.
"Boss, I don't want to think, and I knows I ain't gwine to say a word,
not a word of evil against deir dust lyin' over yonder in deir graves. I
was old enough to know what de passin' 'way of old marster and missus
meant to me. De very stream of lifeblood in me was dryin' up, it 'peared
lak. When marster died, dat was my fust real sorrow. Three years later,
missus passed 'way, dat was de time of my second sorrow. Then, I 'minded
myself of a little tree out dere in de woods in November. Wid every
sharp and cold wind of trouble dat blowed, more leaves of dat tree turnt
loose and went to de ground, just lak they was tryin' to follow her. It
seem lak, when she was gone, I was just lak dat tree wid all de leaves
gone, naked and friendless. It took me a long time to git over all dat;
same way wid de little tree, it had to pass through winter and wait on
spring to see life again.
"I has farmed 'most all my life and, if I was not so old, I would be
doin' dat same thing now. If a poor man wants to enjoy a little freedom,
let him go on de farm and work for hisself. It is sho' worth somethin'
to be boss, and, on de farm you can be boss all you want to, 'less de
man 'low his wife to hold dat 'portant post. A man wid a good wife, one
dat pulls wid him, can see and feel some pleasure and experience some
independence. But, bless your soul, if he gits a woman what wants to be
both husband and wife, fare-you-well and good-bye, too, to all love,
pleasure, and independence; 'cause you sho' is gwine to ketch hell here
and no mild climate whenever you goes 'way. A bad man is worse, but a
bad woman is almost terrible.
"White man, dere is too many peoples in dese big towns and cities. Dere
is more of them than dere is jobs to make a livin' wid. When some of
them find out dat they can't make a livin', they turns to mischief, de
easy way they thinks, takin' widout pay or work, dat which b'longs to
other people. If I understands right, de fust sin dat was committed in
de world was de takin' of somethin' dat didn't b'long to de one what
took it. De gentleman what done dis was dat man Adam, back yonder in de
garden. If what Adam done back yonder would happen now, he would be
guilty of crime. Dat's how 'ciety names sin. Well, what I got to say is
dis: If de courts, now, would give out justice and punishment as quick
as dat what de Good Master give to Adam, dere would be less crime in de
land I believes. But I 'spose de courts would be better if they had de
same jurisdiction as de Master has. Yes, sir, they would be gwine some
then.
"I tells you, dis gittin' what don't b'long to you is de main cause of
dese wars and troubles 'bout over dis world now. I hears de white folks
say dat them Japanese is doin' dis very thing today in fightin' them
Chinamens. Japan say dat China has done a terrible crime against them
and de rest of de world, when it ain't nothin' but dat they wants
somethin' what don't belong to them, and dat somethin' is to git more
country. I may be wrong, anyhow, dat is what I has heard.
"What does I think de colored people need most? If you please sir, I
want to say dis. I ain't got much learnin', 'cause dere was no schools
hardly 'round where I was brung up, but I thinks dat good teachers and
work is what de colored race needs worser than anything else. If they
has learnin', they will be more ashame to commit crime, most of them
will be; and, if they has work to do, they ain't gwine to have time to
do so much wrong. Course dere is gwine to be black sheeps in most
flocks, and it is gwine to take patience to git them out, but they will
come out, just as sho' as you is born.
"Is de colored people superstitious? Listen at dat. You makes me laugh.
All dat foolishness fust started wid de black man. De reason they is
superstitious comes from nothin' but stomp-down ignorance. De white
chillun has been nursed by colored women and they has told them stories
'bout hants and sich lak. So de white chillun has growed up believin'
some of dat stuff 'til they natchally pass it on from generation to
generation. Here we is, both white and colored, still believin' some of
them lies started back when de whites fust come to have de blacks 'round
them.
"If you wants to know what I thinks is de best vittles, I's gwine to be
obliged to omit (admit) dat it is cabbage sprouts in de spring, and it
is collard greens after frost has struck them. After de best vittles,
dere come some more what is mighty tasty, and they is hoghead and
chittlings wid 'tatoes and turnips. Did you see dat? Here I is talkin'
'bout de joys of de appetite and water drapping from my mouth. I sho'
must be gittin' hongry. I lak to eat. I has been a good eater all my
life, but now I is gittin' so old dat 'cordin' to de scriptures, 'De
grinders cease 'cause they are few', and too, 'Those dat look out de
windows be darkened'. My old eyes and teeth is 'bout gone, and if they
does go soon, they ain't gwine to beat dis old frame long, 'cause I is
gwine to soon follow, I feels. I hope when I does go, I can be able to
say what dat great General Stonewall Jackson say when he got kilt in de
Civil War, 'I is gwine to cross de river and rest under de shade of de
trees'."
[~HW: Ezra Adams, Swansea (about 10m. south of Columbia)~]
Project 1885-1.
Folk Lore
District No. 4.
May 27, 1937.
Edited by: J. J. Murray.
EX-SLAVE STORIES
"Aunt" Mary Adams was swinging easily back and forth in the porch swing
as the writer stopped to speak to her. When questioned, she replied that
she and her mother were ex-slaves and had belonged to Dr. C. E. Fleming.
She was born in Columbia, but they were moved to Glenn Springs where her
mother cooked for Dr. Fleming.
She remembers going with a white woman whose husband was in jail, to
carry him something to eat. She said that Mr. Jim Milster was in that
jail, but he lived to get out, and later kept a tin shop in Spartanburg.
"Yes sir, Dr. Fleming always kept enough for us Niggers to eat during
the war. He was good to us. You know he married Miss Dean. Do you know
Mrs. Lyles, Mrs. Simpson, Mr. Ed Fleming? Well, dey are my chilluns.
"Some man here told me one day that I was ninety years old, but I do not
believe I am quite that old. I don't know how old I am, but I was
walking during slavery times. I can't work now, for my feet hurt me and
my fingers ain't straight."
She said all of her children were dead but two, that she knew of. She
said that she had a room in that house and white people gave her
different things. As the writer told her good-bye, she said, "Good-bye,
and may the Lord bless you".
Source: "Aunt" Mary Adams, 363 S. Liberty Street, Spartanburg, S. C.
Interviewer: F. S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S. C.
Project #1655
Everett R. Pierce
Columbia, S. C.
VICTORIA ADAMS
EX-SLAVE 90 YEARS OLD.
"You ask me to tell you something 'bout myself and de slaves in slavery
times? Well Missy, I was borned a slave, nigh on to ninety years ago,
right down here at Cedar Creek, in Fairfield County.
"My massa's name was Samuel Black and missus was named Martha. She used
to be Martha Kirkland befo' she married. There was five chillun in de
family; they was: Alice, Manning, Sally, Kirkland, and de baby, Eugene.
De white folks live in a great big house up on a hill; it was right
pretty, too.
"You wants to know how large de plantation was I lived on? Well, I don't
know 'zackly but it was mighty large. There was forty of us slaves in
all and it took all of us to keep de plantation goin'. De most of de
niggers work in de field. They went to work as soon as it git light
enough to see how to git 'round; then when twelve o'clock come, they all
stops for dinner and don't go back to work 'til two. All of them work on
'til it git almost dark. No ma'am, they ain't do much work at night
after they gits home.
"Massa Samuel ain't had no overseer, he look after his own plantation.
My old granddaddy help him a whole heap though. He was a good nigger and
massa trust him.
"After de crops was all gathered, de slaves still had plenty of work to
do. I stayed in de house wid de white folks. De most I had to do was to
keep de house clean up and nurse de chillun. I had a heap of pretty
clothes to wear, 'cause my missus give me de old clothes and shoes dat
Missy Sally throw 'way.
"De massa and missus was good to me but sometime I was so bad they had
to whip me. I 'members she used to whip me every time she tell me to do
something and I take too long to move 'long and do it. One time my
missus went off on a visit and left me at home. When she come back,
Sally told her that I put on a pair of Bubber's pants and scrub de floor
wid them on. Missus told me it was a sin for me to put on a man's pants,
and she whip me pretty bad. She say it's in de Bible dat: 'A man shall
not put on a woman's clothes, nor a woman put on a man's clothes'. I
ain't never see that in de Bible though, but from then 'til now, I ain't
put on no more pants.
"De grown-up slaves was punished sometime too. When they didn't feel
like taking a whippin' they went off in de woods and stay 'til massa's
hounds track them down; then they'd bring them out and whip them. They
might as well not run away. Some of them never come back a-tall, don't
know what become of them. We ain't had no jail for slaves; never ain't
see none in chains neither. There was a guard-house right in de town but
us niggers never was carried to it. You ask me if I ever see a slave
auctioned off? Yes ma'am, one time. I see a little girl 'bout ten years
old sold to a soldier man. Dis soldier man was married and didn't had no
chillun and he buy dis little girl to be company for his wife and to
help her wid de house work.
"White folks never teach us to read nor write much. They learned us our
A, B, C's, and teach us to read some in de testament. De reason they
wouldn't teach us to read and write, was 'cause they was afraid de
slaves would write their own pass and go over to a free county. One old
nigger did learn enough to write his pass and got 'way wid it and went
up North.
"Missus Martha sho' did look after de slaves good when they was sick. Us
had medicine made from herbs, leaves and roots; some of them was
cat-nip, garlic root, tansy, and roots of burdock. De roots of burdock
soaked in whiskey was mighty good medicine. We dipped asafetida in
turpentine and hung it 'round our necks to keep off disease.
"Befo' de Yankees come thru, our peoples had let loose a lot of our
hosses and de hosses strayed over to de Yankee side, and de Yankee men
rode de hosses back over to our plantation. De Yankees asked us if we
want to be free. I never say I did; I tell them I want to stay wid my
missus and they went on and let me alone. They 'stroyed most everything
we had 'cept a little vittles; took all de stock and take them wid them.
They burned all de buildings 'cept de one de massa and missus was livin'
in.
"It wasn't long after de Yankees went thru dat our missus told us dat we
don't b'long to her and de massa no more. None of us left dat season. I
got married de next year and left her. I like being free more better.
Any niggers what like slavery time better, is lazy people dat don't want
to do nothing.
"I married Fredrick Adams; he used to b'long to Miss Tenny Graddick but
after he was freed he had to take another name. Mr. Jess Adams, a good
fiddler dat my husband like to hang 'round, told him he could take his
name if he wanted to and dats how he got de name of Adams. Us had four
chillun; only one livin', dat Lula. She married John Entzminger and got
several chillun. My gran'chillun a heap of comfort to me."
Home Address:
Colonial Heights,
Columbia, S. C.
Project #1655
W. W. Dixon
Winnsboro, S. C.
FRANK ADAMSON
EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.
"I 'members when you was barefoot at de bottom; now I see you a settin'
dere, gittin' bare at de top, as bare as de palm of my hand.
"I's been 'possum huntin' wid your pappy, when he lived on de Wateree,
just after de war. One night us got into tribulation, I tells you! 'Twas
'bout midnight when de dogs make a tree. Your pappy climb up de tree,
git 'bout halfway up, heard sumpin' dat once you hears it you never
forgits, and dats de rattlin' of de rattles on a rattle snake's tail. Us
both 'stinctly hear dat sound! What us do? Me on de ground, him up de
tree, but where de snake? Dat was de misery, us didn't know. Dat snake
give us fair warnin' though! Marster Sam (dats your pa) 'low: 'Frank,
ease down on de ground; I'll just stay up here for a while.' I lay on
them leaves, skeered to make a russle. Your pa up de tree skeered to go
up or down! Broad daylight didn't move us. Sun come up, he look all
'round from his vantage up de tree, then come down, not 'til then, do I
gits on my foots.
"Then I laugh and laugh and laugh, and ask Marster Sam how he felt.
Marster Sam kinda frown and say: 'Damn I feels like hell! Git up dat
tree! Don't you see dat 'possum up dere?' I say: 'But where de snake,
Marster?' He say: 'Dat rattler done gone home, where me and you and dat
'possum gonna be pretty soon!'
"I b'longs to de Peays. De father of them all was, Korshaw Peay. My
marster was his son, Nicholas; he was a fine man to just look at. My
mistress was always tellin' him 'bout how fine and handsome-like he was.
He must of got use to it; howsomever, marster grin every time she talk
like dat.
"My pappy was bought from de Adamson peoples; they say they got him off
de ship from Africa. He sho' was a man; he run all de other niggers 'way
from my mammy and took up wid her widout askin' de marster. Her name was
Lavinia. When us got free, he 'sisted on Adamson was de name us would go
by. He name was William Adamson. Yes sir! my brothers was: Justus,
Hillyard, and Donald, and my sisters was, Martha and Lizzettie.
"'Deed I did work befo' freedom. What I do? Hoed cotton, pick cotton,
'tend to calves and slop de pigs, under de 'vision of de overseer. Who
he was? First one name Mr. Cary, he a good man. Another one Mr. Tim
Gladden, burn you up whenever he just take a notion to pop his whip. Us
boys run 'round in our shirt tails. He lak to see if he could lift de
shirt tail widout techin' de skin. Just as often as not, though, he tech
de skin. Little boy holler and Marster Tim laugh.
"Us live in quarters. Our beds was nailed to de sides of de house. Most
of de chillun slept on pallets on de floor. Got water from a big spring.
"De white folks 'tend to you all right. Us had two doctors, Doctor
Carlisle and Doctor James.
"I see some money, but never own any then. Had plenty to eat: Meat,
bread, milk, lye hominy, horse apples, turnips, collards, pumpkins, and
dat kind of truck.
"Was marster rich? How come he wasn't? He brag his land was ten miles
square and he had a thousand slaves. Them poor white folks looked up to
him lak God Almighty; they sho' did. They would have stuck their hands
in de fire if he had of asked them to do it. He had a fish pond on top
of de house and terraces wid strawberries, all over de place. See them
big rock columns down dere now? Dats all dats left of his grandness and
greatness. They done move de whippin' post dat was in de backyard. Yes
sah, it was a 'cessity wid them niggers. It stood up and out to 'mind
them dat if they didn't please de master and de overseer, they'd hug dat
post, and de lend of dat whip lash gwine to flip to de hide of dat back
of their's.
"I ain't a complainin'. He was a good master, bestest in de land, but he
just have to have a whippin' post, 'cause you'll find a whole passle of
bad niggers when you gits a thousand of them in one flock.
"Screech owl holler? Women and men turn socks and stockings wrong side
out quick, dat they did, do it now, myself. I's black as a crow but I's
got a white folks heart. Didn't ketch me foolin' 'round wid niggers in
radical times. I's as close to white folks then as peas in a pod. Wore
de red shirt and drunk a heap of brandy in Columbia, dat time us went
down to General Hampton into power. I 'clare I hollered so loud goin'
'long in de procession, dat a nice white lady run out one of de houses
down dere in Columbia, give me two biscuits and a drum stick of chicken,
patted me on de shoulder, and say: 'Thank God for all de big black men
dat can holler for Governor Hampton as loud as dis one does.' Then I
hollers some more for to please dat lady, though I had to take de half
chawed chicken out dis old mouth, and she laugh 'bout dat 'til she
cried. She did!
"Well, I'll be rockin' 'long balance of dese days, a hollerin' for Mr.
Roosevelt, just as loud as I holler then for Hampton.
"My young marsters was: Austin, Tom, and Nicholas; they was all right
'cept they tease you too hard maybe some time, and want to mix in wid de
'fairs of slave 'musements.
"Now what make you ask dat? Did me ever do any courtin'? You knows I
did. Every he thing from a he king down to a bunty rooster gits cited
'bout she things. I's lay wake many nights 'bout sich things. It's de
nature of a he, to take after de she. They do say dat a he angel ain't
got dis to worry 'bout.
"I fust courted Martha Harrison. Us marry and jine de church. Us had
nine chillun; seven of them livin'. A woman can't stand havin' chillun,
lak a man. Carryin', sucklin', and 'tending to them wore her down, dat,
wid de malaria of de Wateree brung her to her grave.
"I sorrow over her for weeks, maybe five months, then I got to thinking
how I'd pair up wid dis one and dat one and de other one. Took to
shavin' again and gwine to Winnsboro every Saturday, and different
churches every Sunday. I hear a voice from de choir, one Sunday, dat
makes me sit up and take notice of de gal on de off side in front. Well
sir! a spasm of fright fust hit me dat I might not git her, dat I was
too old for de likes of her, and dat some no 'count nigger might be in
de way. In a few minutes I come to myself. I rise right up, walked into
dat choir, stand by her side, and wid dis voice of mine, dat always
'tracts 'tention, jined in de hymn and out sung them all. It was easy
from dat time on.
"I marry Kate at de close of dat revival. De day after de weddin', what
you reckon? Don't know? Well, after gittin' breakfas' she went to de
field, poke 'round her neck, basket on her head and picked two hundred
pounds of cotton. Dats de kind of woman she is."
Project 1815-1
FOLKLORE
Spartanburg Dist. 4
June 10, 1937
Edited by: Elmer Turnage
STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES
"I was born in Newberry County, S. C., near Belfast, about 1854. I was a
slave of John Wallace. I was the only child, and when a small child, my
mother was sold to Joe Liggins by my old master, Bob Adams. It is said
that the old brick house where the Wallaces lived was built by a
Eichleberger, but Dr. John Simpson lived there and sold it to Mr.
Wallace. In the attic was an old skeleton which the children thought
bewitched the house. None of them would go upstairs by themselves. I
suppose old Dr. Simpson left it there. Sometimes later, it was taken out
and buried. Marse Wallace had many slaves and kept them working, but he
was not a strict master.
"I married Allen Andrews after the war. He went to the war with his
master. He was at Columbia with the Confederate troops when Sherman
burnt the place. Some of them, my husband included, was captured and
taken to Richmond Va. They escaped and walked back home, but all but
five or six fell out or died.
"My young master, Editor Bill Wallace, a son of Marse John, was a
soldier. When he was sick at home, I fanned the flies from him with a
home-made fan of peacock feathers, sewed to a long cane.
"After the war, the 'bush-whackers', called Ku Klux, rode there.
Preacher Pitts' brother was one. They went to negro houses and killed
the people. They wore caps over the head and eyes, but no long white
gowns. An old muster ground was above there about three miles, near what
is now Wadsworth school."
Source: Frances Andrews (col. 83), Newberry, S. C
Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, Newberry, S. C.
Project 1885-1
FOLKLORE
Spartanburg Dist. 4
Sept. 22, 1937
Edited by: Elmer Turnage
STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES
"I live in a comfortable two-room cottage which my son owns. I can't do
much work except a little washing and ironing. My grandchildren live
with me. My other children help me a little when I need it. I heard
about the 40 acres of land and a mule the ex-slaves would get after the
war, but I didn't pay any attention to it. They never got anything. I
think this was put out by the Yankees who didn't care about much 'cept
getting money for themselves.
"I come from the Indian Creek section of Newberry County. After about
1880 when things got natural, some of the slaves from this section
rented small one-horse farms and made their own money and living. Some
would rent small tracts of land on shares, giving the landlord one-half
the crop for use of the land.
"Everything is changed so much. I never learned to read and write and
all I know is what I heard in old times. But I think the younger
generation of negroes is different from what they used to be. They go
where they want to and do what they want to and don't pay much attention
to old folks anymore.
"My mother's mother come from Virginia and my mother's father was born
and raised in this county. I don't remember anything about the Nat
Turner Rebellion, and never heard anything about it. We never had any
slave up-risings in our neighborhood."
Source: Frances Andrews (83), Newberry, S. C.
Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. 8/11/37.
Spartanburg, S. C.
District No. 4
May 27, 1937.
Edited by
R. V. Williams
[~HW: Lambrigh~]
Folk Lore: Folk Tales (negro)
"I was 'bout nine year ole when de big war broke loose. My pa and ma
'longed to de Scotts what libbed in Jonesville Township. When I got big
'nough to work, I was gib to de youngest Scott boy. Soon atter dis,
Sherman come through Union County. No ma'm, I nebber seed Sherman but I
seed some of his soldiers. Dat's de time I run off in de wood and not
narry a soul knowed whar I was till de dus' had done settled in de big
road.
"Every Sunday, Marse Scott sent us to church in one of his waggins.
White folks rid to church in de buggy and Marse went on de big saddle
hoss. 'Bout dis time, Marse Scott went to Columbia to git coffee and
sugar. He stay mos' two weeks, kaize he drive two fine hosses to de
buggy 'long wid a long hind end to fetch things to and fro in. De roads
was real muddy and de hosses haf to res' ever night. Den in Columbia, he
would have a little 'joyment befo' he come back home."
Source: Miss Dorothy Lambright, W. Main St., Union, S. C. (Story told
her by "Uncle Peter" Arthur.) Information by Caldwell Sims, Union, S.
C.
Code No.
Project, 1885-(1)
Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis
Place, Marion, S. C.
Date, January 4, 1938
No. of Words ----
Reduced from ---- words
Rewritten by ----
JOSEPHINE BACCHUS
Ex-Slave, 75-80 Years
"No, my mercy God, I don' know not one thought to speak to you bout.
Seems like, I does know your face, but I been so sick all de year dat I
can' hardly remember nothin. Yes, sweetheart, I sho caught on to what
you want. Oh, I wishes I did know somethin bout dat old time war cause I
tell you, if I been know anything, I would sho pour it out to you. I got
burn out here de other day en I ain' got near a thing left me, but a
pair of stockings en dat old coat dere on de bed. Dat how-come I stayin
here wid Miss Celia. My husband, he dead en she took me in over here for
de present. No'um, I haven't never had a nine months child. Reckon dat
what ailin me now. Bein dat I never had no mother to care for me en give
me a good attention like, I caught so much of cold dat I ain' never been
safe in de family way. Yes, mam, I had my leg broke plenty times, but I
ain' never been able to jump de time. Lord, I got a misery in my back
dere. I hope it ain' de pneumonias."
"Well, you see, I couldn' tell you nothin bout my mother cause I never
didn' know nothin bout my mother. My Jesus, my brother tell bout when
dey had my mother layin out on de coolin board, I went in de room whe'
she was en axed her for somethin to eat en pushed her head dat way. You
know, I wouldn' touch my hand to do nothin like dat, but I never know.
Dat it, de coolin board, dat what dey used to have to lay all de dead
people on, but dis day en time, de undertaker takes dem en fixes dem up
right nice, I say. I tellin you, I ain' had no sense since I lost my
people. Sometimes, I axes de Lord what he keepin me here for anyhow.
Yes, mam, dat does come to me often times in de night. Oh, it don' look
like I gwine ever get no better in dis life en if I don', I just prays
to God to be saved. Yes, Lord, I prays to be lifted to a restful home."
"Just like as I been hear talk, some of de people fare good in slavery
time en some of dem fare rough. Dat been accordin to de kind of task
boss dey come up under. Now de poor colored people in slavery time, dey
give dem very little rest en would whip some of dem most to death.
Wouldn' none of dem daresen to go from one plantation to another widout
dey had a furlough from dey boss. Yes, mam, if dey been catch you comin
back widout dat walkin paper de boss had give you, great Jeruseleum, you
would sho catch de devil next mornin. My blessed a mercy, hear talk dey
spill de poor nigger's blood awful much in slavery time. Hear heap of
dem was free long time fore dey been know it cause de white folks, dey
wanted to keep dem in bondage. Oh, my Lord, dey would cut dem so hard
till dey just slash de flesh right off dem. Yes, mam, dey call dat thing
dey been whip dem wid de cat o' nine tail. No, darlin, I hear talk it
been made out of pretty leather plaited most all de way en den all dat
part down to de bottom, dey just left it loose to do de cuttin wid. Yes,
honey, dem kind of whips was made out of pretty leather like one of dese
horse whips. Yes, mam, dat been how it was in slavery time."
"Yankees! Oh, I hear folks speak bout de Yankees plunderin through de
country plenty times. Hear bout de Yankees gwine all bout stealin white
people silver. Say, everywhe' dey went en found white folks wid silver,
dey would just clean de place up. Dat de blessed truth, too, cause dat
exactly what I hear bout dem."
"Lord, pray Jesus, de white people sho been mighty proud to see dey
niggers spreadin out in dem days, so dey tell me. Yes, mam, dey was glad
to have a heap of colored people bout dem cause white folks couldn' work
den no more den dey can work dese days like de colored people can.
Reckon dey love to have dey niggers back yonder just like dey loves to
have dem dese days to do what dey ain' been cut out to do. You see, dey
would have two or three women on de plantation dat was good breeders en
dey would have chillun pretty regular fore freedom come here. You know,
some people does be right fast in catchin chillun. Yes'um, dey must been
bless wid a pile of dem, I say, en every colored person used to follow
up de same name as dey white folks been hear to."
"No'um, I never didn' go to none of dem cornshuckin en fodder pullin en
all dem kind of thing. Reckon while dey was at de cornshuckin, I must
been somewhe' huntin somethin to eat. Den dem kind of task was left to
de men folks de most of de time cause it been so hot, dey was force to
strip to do dat sort of a job."
"Lord, I sho remembers dat earth shake good as anything. When it come on
me, I was settin down wid my foots in a tub of water. Yes, my Lord, I
been had a age on me in de shake. I remember, dere been such a shakin
dat evenin, it made all de people feel mighty queer like. It just come
in a tremble en first thing I know, I felt de difference in de crack of
de house. I run to my sister Jessie cause she had been live in New York
en she was well acquainted wid dat kind of gwine on. She say, 'Josie,
dis ain' nothin but dem shake I been tellin you bout, but dis de first
time it come here en you better be a prayin.' En, honey, everything
white en colored was emptied out of doors dat night. Lord, dey was
scared. Great Jeruseleum! De people was scared everywhe'. Didn' nobody
know what to make of it. I tellin you, I betcha I was 30 years old in de
shake."
"Now, I guess time you get done gettin up all dem memorandums, you gwine
have a pile. I tell you, if you keep on, you sho gwine have a bale cause
dere a lot of slavery people is spring up till now. I ought to could
fetch back more to speak to you bout, but just like I been tell you, I
wasn' never cared for by a mother en I is caught on to a heap of
roughness just on account dat I ain' never had a mother to have a care
for me."
"Oh, de people never didn' put much faith to de doctors in dem days.
Mostly, dey would use de herbs in de fields for dey medicine. Dere two
herbs, I hear talk of. Dey was black snake root en Sampson snake root.
Say, if a person never had a good appetite, dey would boil some of dat
stuff en mix it wid a little whiskey en rock candy en dat would sho give
dem a sharp appetite. See, it natural cause if you take a tablespoon of
dat bitter medicine three times a day like a person tell you, it bound
to swell your appetite. Yes, mam, I know dat a mighty good mixture."
"Oh, my Lord, child, de people was sho wiser in olden times den what dey
be now. Dey been have all kind of signs to forecast de times wid en dey
been mighty true to de word, too. Say, when you hear a cow low en cry so
mournful like, it ain' gwine be long fore you hear tell of a death."
"Den dere one bout de rain. Say, sometimes de old rain crow stays in de
air en hollers en if you don' look right sharp, it gwine rain soon. Call
him de rain crow. He hollers mostly like dis, 'Goo-oop, goo-oop.' Like
dat."
"De people used to have a bird for cold weather, too. Folks say, 'Don'
you hear dat cold bird? Look out, it gwine be cold tomorrow.' De cold
bird, he a brown bird. If you can see him, he a fine lookin bird, too.
Yes'um, right large en strong lookin, but don' nobody hardly ever see
him dese days."
"En I reckon you hear talk bout dis one. Say, not to wash on de first
day of de New Year cause if you do, you will wash some of your family
out de pot. Say, somebody will sho die. Dat right, too. Den if possible,
must boil some old peas on de first day of de New Year en must cook some
hog jowl in de pot wid dem. Must eat some of it, but don' be obliged to
eat it all. En ought to have everything clean up nicely so as to keep
clean all de year. Say, must always put de wash out on de line to be
sure de day fore New Years en have all your garments clean."
"What my ideas bout de young folks dese days? Well, dey young folks en
dey ain' young folks, I say. Cose I don' bother up wid dem none, but I
think wid my own weak judgment, dey quite different from when I come
along. Folks is awful funny dis day en time to my notion. Don' care what
people see dem do no time. I sho think dey worser den what dey used to
be. De way I say dey worser, I used to have to be back at such en such a
time, if I went off, but now dey go anytime dey want to en dey comes
back anytime dey want to. I sho think dey worser. De fact of it, I know
dey worser."
Source: Josephine Bacchus, colored, age 75-80, Marion, S. C.
Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Dec., 1937.
Project 1885-1
Folklore
Spartanburg Dist. 4
June 14, 1937
Edited by: Elmer Turnage
STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES
"I was born near Winnsboro, S. C., Fairfield County. I was twelve years
old the year the Confederate war started. My father was John Ballard and
my mother was Sallie Ballard. I had several brothers and sisters. We
belonged to Jim Aiken, a large landowner at Winnsboro. He owned land on
which the town was built. He had seven plantations. He was good to us
and give us plenty to eat, and good quarters to live in. His mistress
was good, too; but one of his sons, Dr. Aiken, whipped some of de
niggers, lots. One time he whipped a slave for stealing. Some of his
land was around four churches in Winnsboro.
"We was allowed three pounds o' meat, one quart o' molasses, grits and
other things each week--plenty for us to eat.
"When freedom come, he told us we was free, and if we wanted to stay on
with him, he would do the best he could for us. Most of us stayed, and
after a few months, he paid wages. After eight months, some went to
other places to work.
"The master's wife died and he married a daughter of Robert Gillam and
moved to Greenville, S. C.
"The master always had a very big garden with plenty of vegetables. He
had fifty hogs, and I helped mind the hogs. He didn't raise much cotton,
but raised lots of wheat and corn. He made his own meal and flour from
the mill on the creek; made home-made clothes with cards and spinning
wheels.
"They cooked in wide chimneys in a kitchen which was away off from the
big house. They used pots and skillets to cook with. The hands got
their rations every Monday night. They got their clothes to wear which
they made on old spinning wheels, and wove them themselves.
"The master had his own tanyard and tanned his leather and made shoes
for his hands.
"He had several overseers, white men, and some Negro foremen. They
sometimes whipped the slaves, that is the overseers. Once a nigger
whipped the overseer and had to run away in the woods and live so he
wouldn't get caught. The nigger foremen looked after a set of slaves on
any special work. They never worked at night unless it was to bring in
fodder or hay when it looked like rain was coming. On rainy days, we
shucked corn and cleaned up around the place.
"We had old brick ovens, lots of 'em. Some was used to make molasses
from our own sugar cane we raised.
"The master had a 'sick-house' where he took sick slaves for treatment,
and kept a drug store there. They didn't use old-time cures much, like
herbs and barks, except sassafras root tea for the blood.
"We didn't learn to read and write, but some learned after the war.
"My father run the blacksmith shop for the master on the place. I worked
around the place. The patrollers were there and we had to have a pass to
get out any. The nigger children sometimes played out in the road and
were chased by patrollers. The children would run into the master's
place and the patrollers couldn't get them 'cause the master wouldn't
let them. We had no churches for slaves, but went to the white church
and set in the gallery. After freedom, niggers built 'brush harbors' on
the place.
"Slaves carried news from one plantation to another by riding mules or
horses. They had to be in quarters at night. I remember my mother rode
side-saddle one Saturday night. I reckon she had a pass to go; she come
back without being bothered.
"Some games children played was, hiding switches, marbles, and maybe
others. Later on, some of de nigger boys started playing cards and got
to gambling; some went to de woods to gamble.
"The old cotton gins on de farms were made of wooden screws, and it took
all day to gin four bales o' cotton.
"I was one of the first trustees that helped build the first colored
folks' church in the town of Greenwood. I am the only one now living. I
married Alice Robinson, and had five sons and one daughter, and have
five or six grandchildren.
"Abraham Lincoln, I think, was a good man; had a big reputation. Couldn't
tell much about Jefferson Davis. Booker T. Washington--Everybody
thinks he is a great man for the colored race.
"Of course I think slavery was bad. We is free now and better off to
work. I think anybody who is any count can work and live by himself.
"I joined de church when I was 17 years old, because a big preaching was
going on after freedom for the colored people.
"I think everybody should join the church and do right; can't get
anywhere without it, and do good."
Source: William Ballard (88), Greenwood, S. C.
Interviewed by: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (6/10/37)
Project #1655
W. W. Dixon
Winnsboro, S. C.
CHARLEY BARBER
EX-SLAVE 81 YEARS OLD.
Charley Barber lives in a shanty kind of house, situated on a plot of
ground containing two acres all his own. It is a mile and a half
southeast of Winnsboro, S. C. He lives with an anaemic daughter, Maggie,
whose chief interests are a number of cats, about the premises, and a
brindled, crumple-horned cow that she ties out to graze every morning
and milks at evening.
Charley is squat of figure, short neck, popeyed, and has white hair. He
tills the two acres and produces garden truck that he finds a sale for
among the employees of the Winnsboro mills, just across the railroad
from his home. He likes to talk, and pricks up his ears,(so to speak),
whenever anything is related as having occurred in the past. He will
importune those present to hear his version of the event unusual.
"Well sah, dis is a pleasure to have you call 'pon me, howsomever it be
unexpected dis mornin'. Shoo! (driving the chickens out of the house)
Shoo! Git out of here and go scratch a livin' for them chickens, dat's
followin' you yet, and you won't wean and git to layin' again. Fust
thing you know you'll be spoilin' de floor, when us is got company dis
very minute. Scat! Maggie; git them cats out de chairs long 'nough for
Mr. Wood to set in one whilst he's come to see me dis mornin'.
"And dat's it? You wants me to talk over de days dat am gone? How dis
come 'bout and how dat come 'bout, from de day I was born, to dis very
hour? Let's light, up our smokestacks befo' us begin. Maybe you wants a
drink of, water. Maggie, fetch de water here!
"How old you think I is, sixty-five? My goodness! Do you hear dat
Maggie? (Rubbing his hands; his eyes shining with pleasure) Take another
look and make another guess. Seventy-five? You is growin' warm but
you'll have to come again!
"Bless your soul Marse Wood, you know what old Mudder Shifton say? She
'low dat: 'In de year 1881, de world to an end will surely come'. I was
twenty-five years old when all de niggers and most of de white folks was
believin' dat old lady and lookin' for de world to come to an end in
1881. Dat was de year dat I jined de church, 'cause I wanted to make
sure dat if de end did come, I'd be caught up in dat rapture dat de
white Methodist preacher was preachin' 'bout and explainin' to my
marster and mistress at deir house on de piazza dat year.