folks, both black as well as white wuz so glad to see 'em back dat we
jus jumped up and hollered 'Oh, Lawdy, God bless you.' When you would
look around a little, you would see some widout an arm or maybe dey
would be a walkin' wid a cruch or a stick. Den you would cry some widout
lettin your white folks see you. But Jane, de worsest time of all fer us
darkies wuz when de Ku Klux killed Dan Black. We wuz little chilluns a
playin' in Dans house. We didn't know he had done nothin' ginst de white
folks. Us wuz a playin by de fire jus as nice when something hit on de
wall. Dan, he jump up and try to git outten de winder. A white spooky
thing had done come in de doo' right by me. I was so scairt dat I could
not git up. I had done fell straight out on de flo'. When Dan stick his
head outten dat winder something say bang and he fell right down in de
flo'. I crawles under de bed. When I got dar, all de other chilluns wuz
dar to, lookin' as white as ashed dough from hickory wood. Us peeped out
and den us duck under de bed agin. Ain't no bed ebber done as much good
as dat one. Den a whole lot of dem come in de house. De wuz all white
and scairy lookin'. It still makes de shivvers run down my spine and
here I is ole and you all a settin' around wid me and two mo' wars done
gone since dat awful time. Dan Black, he wo'nt no mo' kaise dey took dat
nigger and hung him to a simmon tree. Dey would not let his folks take
him down either. He jus stayed dar till he fell to pieces.
"After dat when us chilluns seed de Ku Klux a comin', us would take an'
run breakneck speed to de nearest wood. Dar we would stay till dey wuz
plum out o' sight and you could not even hear de horses feet. Dem days
wuz worse'n de war. Yes Lawd, dey wuz worse'n any war I is ebber heard
of.
"Was not long after dat fore de spooks wuz a gwine round ebber whar.
When you would go out atter dark, somethin' would start to a haintin'
ye. You would git so scairt dat you would mighty ni run every time you
went out atter dark; even iffin you didn't see nothin'. Chile, don't axe
me what I seed. Atter all dat killin' and a burnin' you know you wuz
bliged to see things wid all dem spirits in distress a gwine all over de
land. You see, it is like dis, when a man gits killed befo he is done
what de good Lawd intended fer him to do, he comes back here and tries
to find who done him wrong. I mean he don' come back hisself, but de
spirit, it is what comes and wanders around. Course, it can't do
nothin', so it jus scares folks and haints dem."
Source: "Aunt" Millie Bates, 25 Hamlet street, Union, S. C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C.
Project #1655
Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Georgetown County
FOLKLORE
VISIT WITH UNCLE WELCOME BEES--AGE 104 YEARS
The road is perfectly camouflaged from the King's Highway by wild plums
that lap overhead. Only those who have traveled this way before could
locate the 'turn in' to Uncle Welcome's house. When you have turned in
and come suddenly out from the plum thicket you find your road winding
along with cultivated patches on the left--corn and peas--a fenced-in
garden, the palings riven out by hand, and thick dark woods on the left.
A lonesome, untenanted cabin is seemingly in the way but your car swings
to the left instead of climbing the door-step and suddenly you find you
are facing a bog. The car may get through; it may not. So you switch off
and just sit a minute, seeing how the land lies. A great singing and
chopping of wood off to the left have kept the inmates from hearing the
approach of a car. When you rap therefore you hear, 'Come in'.
A narrow hall runs through to the back porch and off this hall on your
right opens a door from beyond which comes a very musical squeaking--you
know a rocking chair is going hard--even before you see it in motion
with a fuzzy little head that rests on someone's shoulder sticking over
the top. And the fuzzy head which in size is like a small five-cent
cocoanut, belongs to Uncle Welcome's great-grand. On seeing a visitor
the grand, the mother of the infant, rises and smiles greeting, and,
learning your errand, points back to the kitchen to show where Uncle
Welcome sits. You step down one step and ask him if you may come in and
he pats a chair by his side. The old man isn't so spry as he was when
you saw him in the fall; the winter has been hard. But here it is warm
again and at most four in the April afternoon, he sits over his plate of
hopping John--he and innumerable flies. At his feet, fairly under the
front of a small iron stove, sits another great-grand with a plate of
peas between her legs. Peas and rice, 'hopping John'. (Someone says peas
and hominy cooked together makes "limping Lizzie in the Low-Country."
But that is another story.)
* * * * *
"Uncle Welcome, isn't Uncle Jeemes Stuart the oldest liver on Sandy
Island?" Welcome: "Jeemes Stuart? I was married man when he born. Jeemes
rice-field. (Worker in rice-field) posed himself. In all kinds of
weather. Cut you down, down, down. Jeemes second wife gal been married
before but her husband dead.
"I couldn't tell the date or time I born. Your Maussa (Master) take it
down. When I been marry, Dr. Ward Fadder (Father) aint been marry yet.
My mother had twelve head born Oatland. He bought my mother from
Virginia. Dolly. Sam her husband name. Sam come from same course. When
my mother been bought, her been young woman. Work in rice. Plow right
now (Meaning April is time to plow rice fields). I do carpenter work and
mind horse for plantation. Come from Georgetown in boat. Have you own
carriage. Go anywhere you want to go. Oatland church build for colored
people and po-buckra. I helped build that church. The boss man, Mr.
Bettman. My son Isaac sixty-nine. If him sixty-nine, I one hundred four.
That's my record. Maussa didn't low you to marry till you twenty-two.
Ben Allston own Turkey Hill. When him dead, I was twelve years old. Me!
(Knocking his chest)"
Welcome Bees--
Parkersville, S. C.
(Near Waverly Mills, S. C.)
Age 104.
Project #1655
W. W. Dixon
Winnsboro, S. C.
ANNE BELL
EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD.
~HW: (near Winnsboro, S. C.)~]
Anne Bell lives with her niece, in a one-room annex to a two-room frame
house, on the plantation of Mr. Lake Howze, six miles west of Winnsboro,
S. C. Her niece's husband, Golden Byrd, is a share-cropper on Mr.
Howze's place. The old lady is still spry and energetic about the cares
of housekeeping and attention to the small children of her niece. She is
a delightful old lady and well worth her keep in the small chores she
undertakes and performs in the household.
"My marster was John Glazier Rabb; us call him Marse Glazier. My
mistress was Nancy Kincaid Watts; us call her Miss Nancy. They lived on
a big plantation in Fairfield County and dere I come into dis world,
eighty-three years ago, 10th day of April past.
"My pappy name just Andy but after de freedom, he took de name of Andrew
Watts. My old mammy was Harriett but she come to you if you calls her
Hattie. My brudders was Jake and Rafe. My sister name Charity. They all
dead and gone to glory long time ago; left me here 'lone by myself and
I's settin' here tellin' you 'bout them.
"My mammy was de cook at de 'Big House' for marster, Miss Nancy, and de
chillun. Let me see if I can call them over in my mind. Dere was Marse
John, went off to de war, color bearer at Seven Pines. Yes sir, him was
killed wid de colors a flyin' in his hand. Heard tell of it many times.
He lies right now in de old Buck Church graveyard. De pine trees, seven
of them, cry and sob 'round him every August 6th; dat's de day he was
killed. Oh, my God!
"Marse James went wid old Colonel Rion. They say he got shot but bullets
couldn't kill him. No, bless God! Him comed back. Then come Marse
Clarence. He went wid Captain Jim Macfie, went through it all and didn't
get a scratch. Next was Miss Jesse. Then come Marse Horace, and Miss
Nina. Us chillun all played together. Marse Horace is livin' yet and is
a fine A. R.P. preacher of de Word. Miss Nina a rich lady, got
plantation but live 'mong de big bugs in Winnsboro. She married Mr.
Castles; she is a widow now. He was a good man, but he dead now.
"De one I minds next, is Charlie. I nussed him. He married Colonel
Province's daughter. Dat's all I can call to mind, right now.
"Course de white folks I b'longs to, had more slaves than I got fingers
and toes; whole families of them. De carpenter and de blacksmith on de
place made de bedsteads. Us had good wheat straw mattresses to sleep on;
cotton quilts, spreads, and cotton pillows. No trouble to sleep but it
was hard to hear dat white overseer say at day break: 'Let me hear them
foots hit de floor and dat befo' I go! Be lively! Hear me?' And you had
to answer, 'Yas sah', befo' he'd move on to de nex' house. I does
'member de parts of de bed, was held together by wooden pins. I sho'
'members dat!
"Mammy Harriett was de cook. I didn't done no work but 'tend to de
chillun and tote water.
"Money? Go 'way from here, boss! Lord, no sir, I never saw no money.
What I want wid it anyhow?
"How did they feed us? Had better things to eat then, than now and more
different kind of somethin's. Us had pears, 'lasses, shorts, middlings
of de wheat, corn bread, and all kinds of milk and vegetables.
"Got a whuppin' once. They wanted me to go after de turkeys and I didn't
want to go past de graveyard, where de turkeys was. I sho' didn't want
to go by them graves. I's scared now to go by a graveyard in de dark. I
took de whuppin' and somebody else must have got de turkeys. Sho' I
didn't drive them up!
"Slaves spun de thread, loomed de cloth, and made de clothes for de
plantation. Don't believe I had any shoes. I was just a small gal anyhow
then, didn't need them and didn't want them.
"Yes, I's seen nigger women plow. Church? I wouldn't fool you, all de
slaves big enough and not sick, had to go to church on de Sabbath.
"They give us a half Saturday, to do as we like.
"I was 'bout ten years old when de Yankees come. They was full to de
brim wid mischief. They took de frocks out de presses and put them on
and laugh and carry on powerful. Befo' they went they took everything.
They took de meat and 'visions out de smoke-house, and de 'lasses,
sugar, flour, and meal out de house. Killed de pigs and cows, burnt de
gin-house and cotton, and took off de live stock, geese, chickens and
turkeys.
"After de freedom, I stayed on wid mammy right dere, 'til I married Levi
Bell. I's had two chillun. Dis my grand-daughter, I visitin'. I never
'spects to have as good a home as I had in slavery time, 'til I gits my
title to dat mansion in de sky. Dats de reason I likes to sing dat old
plantation spiritual, 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot, Jesus Gwinter Carry me
Home'. Does I believe in 'ligion? What else good for colored folks? I
ask you if dere ain't a heaven, what's colored folks got to look forward
to? They can't git anywhere down here. De only joy they can have here,
is servin' and lovin'; us can git dat in 'ligion but dere is a limit to
de nigger in everything else. Course I knows my place in dis world; I
'umbles myself here to be 'zalted up yonder."
Project 1885-1
FOLKLORE
Spartanburg, Dist. 4
July 26, 1937
Edited by:
Elmer Turnage
SLAVERY REMINISCENCES
"I was raised in the wood across the road about 200 yards from here. I
was very mischievous. My parents were honest and were Christians. I
loved them very much. My father was William Bevis, who died at the age
of eighty. Miss Zelia Hames of Pea Ridge was my mother. My parents are
buried at Bethlehem Methodist Church. I was brought up in Methodism and
I do not know anything else. I had two brothers and four sisters. My
twin sister died last April 1937. She was Fannie Holcombe. I was in bed
with pneumonia at the time of her death and of course I could not go to
the funeral. For a month, I was unconscious.
"When I was a little girl I played 'Andy-over' with a ball, in the
moonlight. Later I went to parties and dances. Calico, chambric and
gingham were the materials which our party dresses were made of.
"My grandmother, Mrs. Phoebe Bevis used to tell Revolutionary stories
and sing songs that were sung during that period. Grandmother knew some
Tories. She always told me that old Nat Gist was a Tory ... that is the
way he got rich.
"Hampton was elected governor the morning my mother died. Father went in
his carriage to Jonesville to vote for Hampton. We all thought that
Hampton was fine.
"When I was a school girl I used the blue back speller. My sweetheart's
name was Ben Harris. We went to Bethlehem to school. Jeff and Bill
Harris were our teachers. I was thirteen. We went together for six
years. The Confederate War commenced. He was very handsome. He had black
eyes and black hair. I had seven curls on one side of my head and seven
on the other. He was twenty-four when he joined the 'Boys of Sixteen'.
"He wanted to marry me then, but father would not let us marry. He
kissed me good bye and went off to Virginia. He was a picket and was
killed while on duty at Mars Hill. Bill Harris was in a tent nearby and
heard the shot. He brought Ben home. I went to the funeral. I have never
been much in-love since then.
"I hardly ever feel sad. I did not feel especially sad during the war. I
made socks, gloves and sweaters for the Confederate soldiers and also
knitted for the World War soldiers. During the war, there were three
looms and three shuttles in our house.
"I went often to the muster grounds at Kelton to see the soldiers drill
and to flirt my curls at them. Pa always went with me to the muster
field. Once he invited four recruits to dine with us. We had a delicious
supper. That was before the Confederacy was paralyzed. Two darkies
waited on our table that night, Dorcas and Charlotte. A fire burned in
our big fireplace and a lamp hung over the table. After supper was over,
we all sat around the fire in its flickering light.
"My next lover was Jess Holt and he was drowned in the Mississippi
River. He was a carpenter and was building a warf on the river. He fell
in and was drowned in a whirlpool."
Source: Miss Caroline Bevis (W. 96), County Home, Union, S. C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. (7/13/37)
Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis
Place, Marion, S. C.
Date, June 21, 1937
MAGGIE BLACK
Ex-Slave, 79 years
"Honey, I don' know wha' to tell yuh 'bout dem times back dere. Yuh see
I wus jes uh young child when de free war close en I ain' know much to
tell yuh. I born o'er de river dere to Massa Jim Wilkerson plantation.
Don' know wha' 'come uv my ole Massa chillun a'ter dey head been gone.
Yuh see, honey, Massa Jim Wilkerson hab uh heap uv slave en he hire my
mudder out to Colonel Durant place right down de road dere whey Miss
Durant lib now. Coase I been back o'er de river to visit 'mongest de
peoples dere a'ter freedom wuz 'clare, but I ain' ne'er lib dere no
more."
"Gawd been good to me, honey. I been heah uh long ole time en I can' see
mucha dese days, but I gettin' 'long sorta so-so. I wuz train up to be
uh nu'se 'oman en I betcha I got chillun more den any 60 year ole 'bout
heah now dat I nu'se when dey wuz fust come heah. No, honey, ain' got no
chillun uv me own. Aw my chillun white lak yuh."
"No, no'mam, dey wear long ole frock den en uh girl comin' on dere when
dey ge' to be any kind uv uh girl, dey put dat frock down. Oh, my child,
dey can' ge' em short 'nough dese days. Ain' hab nuthin but uh string on
dese day en time. Dey use'er wear dem big ole hoop skirt dat sit out
broad lak from de ankle en den dey wear little panty dat show down twixt
dey skirt en dey ankle. Jes tie em 'round dey knees wid some sorta
string en le' em show dat way 'bout dey ankle. I 'member we black
chillun'ud go in de woods en ge' wild grape vine en bend em round en put
em under us skirt en make it stand out big lak. Hadder hab uh big ole
ring fa de bottom uv de skirt en den one uh little bit smaller eve'y
time dey ge' closer to de waist. Ne'er hab none tall in de waist cause
dat wuz s'ppose to be little bitty t'ing."
"Dey weave aw de cloth dey use den right dere on de plantation. Wear
cotton en woolens aw de time den. Coase de Madam, she could go en ge' de
finest kind uv silk cause mos' uv her t'ing come from 'broad. Child, I
c'n see my ole mammy how she look workin' dat spinning wheel jes us good
uz ef dat day wuz dis day right heah. She set dere at dat ole spinning
wheel en take one shettle en t'row it one way en den annuder de udder
way en pull dat t'ing en make it tighter en tighter. Sumptin say zum,
zum, zum, en den yuh hadder work yuh feet dere too. Dat wuz de way dey
make dey cloth dat day en time."
"Honey, peoples hadder work dey hand fa eve'yt'ing dey hab mos' den. Dey
grew dey own rice right dere on de plantation in dem days. Hadder plant
it on some uv de land wha' wuz weter den de udder land wuz. Dey hadder
le' de rice ge' good en ripe en den dey'ud cut it en hab one uv dem big
rice whipping days. Heap uv people come from plantation aw 'bout en
help whip dat rice. Dey jes take de rice en beat it 'cross some hoes dat
dey hab fix up somewhey dere on de plantation. Honey, dey hab hoss jes
lak dese hoss yuh see carpenter use 'boat heah dese days. Dey'ud hab
hundreds uv bushels uv dat rice dere. Den when dey ge' t'rough, dey hab
big supper dere fa aw dem wha' whip rice. Gi'e em aw de rice en hog head
dey is e'er wan'. Man, dey'ud hab de nicest kind uv music dere. Knock
dem bones togedder en slap en pat dey hands to aw kind uv pretty tune."
"Dem dey hab rice mortars right dere on de plantation wha' dey fix de
rice in jes uz nice. Now dey hab to take it to de mill. Yuh see dey hab
uh big block outer in de yard wid uh big hole in it dat dey put de rice
in en take dese t'ing call pestles en beat down on it en dat wha' knock
de shaft offen it. Coase dey ne'er hab no nice pretty rice lak yuh see
dese days cause it wusn't uz white uz de rice dat dey hab 'boat heah dis
day en time, but it wuz mighty sweet rice, honey, mighty sweet rice."
"No'mam, didn't hab no schools tall den. Ne'er gi'e de colored peoples
no l'arnin' no whey 'fore freedom 'clare. Wha' little l'arnin' come my
way wuz wha' I ge' when I stay wid Miss Martha Leggett down dere to
Leggett's Mill Pond. A'ter freedom 'clare, uh lady from de north come
dere en Miss Leggett send we chillun to school to dat lady up on de hill
dere in de woods. No, honey, yah ain' ne'er see no bresh tent 'bout
heah dis day en time. Dis jes de way it waz make. Dey dig four big holes
en put postes in aw four corner 'bout lak uh room. Den dey lay log
'cross de top uv dat en kiver it aw o'er wid bresh (brush) dat dey break
outer de woods. Ne'er hab none uv de side shet up. En dey haul log dere
en roll em under dat bresh tent fa we chillun to set on. Oh, de
teacher'ud hab uh big box fa her stand jes lak uh preacher. Eve'ybody
dat go to school dere hab one uv dem t'ing call slate dat yah ne'er
hadder do nuthin but jes wash it offen. En dey hab dese ole l'arnin'
book wha' yuh call Websters."
"My white folks al'ays waz good to me, honey. Ne'er didn't nab to do no
field work in aw me life. When I stay dere wid Miss Leggett, I hadder
pick up little chip 'bout de yard when I fust come home from school en
den I hadder go 'way up in de big field en drib de turkeys up. We didn't
find dat no hard t'ing to do lak de peoples talk lak it sumptin hard to
do dese days. We wuz l'arnt to work en didn't mind it neither. Al'ays
minded to us own business."
"Oh, gourds waz de t'ing in dem days. Dey waz wha' de peoples hab to
drink outer en wash dey hominy en rice in aw de time. Dey was de bestest
kind uv bowl fa we chillun to eat corn bread en clabber outer. Peoples
dis day en time don' hab no sech crockery lak de people use'er hab.
Honey, day hab de prettiest little clay bowls den."
"Annuder t'ing de peoples do den dat yuh ain' ne'er hear 'bout nobody
doing dese days, dey al'ays boil sumptin fa dey cows to eat lak peas en
corn in uh big ole black pot somewhey dere in de back lot. Coase it wuz
jes half cooked, but day sho' done dat. Nobody ne'er t'ought 'bout not
cookin' fa dey cow den."
"Dat was sho' uh different day from dis, honey. De little chillun wus
jes uz foolish den cause de peoples ne'er tell dem 'bout nuthin tall in
dat day en time. Aw dese little chillun 'bout heah dese days don' hab no
shame 'bout em no whey. Dey hab head full uv eve'yt'ing, honey, aw sorta
grown people knowings."
Source: Maggie Black, ex-slave, age 79, Marion, S. C.
Personal interview, June 1937
Spartanburg, S. C.
June 7, 1937
FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES
"I was born in Laurens County, S. C., at the 'brick house', which is
close to Newberry County line, and my master was Dr. Felix Calmes. The
old brick house is still there. My daddy was Joe Grazier and my mammy,
Nellie Grazier.
"We had a pretty good house to live in in slavery time, and some fair
things to eat, but never was paid any money. We had plenty to eat like
fat meat, turnips, cabbages, cornbread, milk and pot-liquor. Master sent
his corn and apples, and his peaches to old man Scruggs at Helena, near
Newberry, to have him make his whiskey, brandy, and wine for him. Old
man Scruggs was good at that business. The men hunted some, squirrels,
rabbits, possums, and birds.
"In the winter time I didn't have much clothes, and no shoes. At nights
I carded and spinned on the mistress's wheels, helping my mammy. Then we
got old woman Wilson to weave for us.
"Master had a big plantation of several farms, near about 1,000 acres or
more. It was said he had once 250 slaves on his places, counting
children and all. His overseers had to whip the slaves, master told them
to, and told them to whip them hard. Master Calmes was most always mean
to us. He got mad spells and whip like the mischief. He all the time
whipping me 'cause I wouldn't work like he wanted. I worked in the big
house, washed, ironed, cleaned up, and was nurse in the house when war
was going on.
"We didn't have a chance to learn to read and write, and master said if
he caught any of his slaves trying to learn he would 'skin them alive'.
"There was a church in the neighborhood on Dr. Blackburn's place, but we
didn't get to go to it much. I was 17 years old when I joined the
church. I joined because the rest of the girls joined. I think everybody
ought to join the church.
"On Saturday afternoons the slaves had to work, and all day Sunday, too,
if master wanted them. On Christmas Day we was give liquor to get drunk
on, but didn't have no dinner.
"When I was sick old Dr. P. B. Ruff attended me. Old Dr. Calmes, I
'member, traveled on a horse, with saddle-bag behind him, and made his
own medicines. He made pills from cornbread.
"I saw many slaves sold on the block--saw mammy with little infant taken
away from her baby and sent away. I saw families separated from each
other, some going to one white master and some to another.
"I married at 14 years old to Arthur Bluford. We had 10 children. I now
have about 8 grandchildren and about 7 or 8 great-grandchildren. I was
married in the town of Newberry at the white folk's Methodist church, by
a colored preacher named Rev. Geo. De Walt.
"When freedom come, they left and hired out to other people, but I
stayed and was hired out to a man who tried to whip me, but I ran away.
Dat was after I married and had little baby. I told my mammy to look
after my little baby 'cause I was gone. I stayed away two years 'till
after Dr. Calmes and his family moved to Mississippi."
Source: Gordon Bluford (92), Newberry, S. C.
Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St.,
Newberry, S. C.
Project #1655
Henry Grant
Columbia, S. C.
SAMUEL BOULWARE
EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.
Samuel Boulware's only home is one basement room, in the home of colored
friends, for which no rent charges are made. He is old and feeble and
has poor eyesight, yet, he is self-supporting by doing light odd jobs,
mostly for white people. He has never married, hence no dependents
whatever. One of the members of the house, in which Samuel lives, told
him someone on the front porch wanted to talk with him.
From his dingy basement room he slowly mounted the steps and came toward
the front door with an irregular shamble. One seeing his approach would
naturally be of the opinion, that this old darkey was certainly nearing
the hundred year mark. Apparently Father Time had almost caught up with
him; he had been caught in the winds of affliction and now he was
tottering along with a bent and twisted frame, which for many years in
the past, housed a veritable physical giant. The winds of 82 years had
blown over him and now he was calmly and humbly approaching the end of
his days. Humility was his attitude, a characteristic purely
attributable to the genuine and old-fashion southern Negro. He slid into
a nearby chair and began talking in a plain conversational way.
"Dis is a mighty hot day white folks but you knows dis is July and us
gits de hot days in dis month. De older I gits de more I feels de hot
and de cold. I has been a strong, hard working man most all my life and
if it wasn't for dis rheumatism I has in my right leg, I could work hard
every day now.