can live to see February, bout 73 year old. What age Hester say she was?
Dat what I had thought from me en her conversation. Miss, I don'
remember a thing more bout de war den de soldiers comin through old
Massa's plantation en we chillun was 'fraid of dem en ran. Knew dey was
dressed in a different direction from us white folks. All was in blue,
you know, wid dem curious lookin hats en dem brass buttons on dey
bodies. No, mam, dey didn' stop nowhe' bout us. Dey was ridin on horses
en it seem like dey was in a hurry gwine somewhe'. En dey didn' stop to
old Massa's house neither. No, mam, not to my knowin, dey didn'. Well,
we was livin out to de plantation, we calls it, en Massa en Missus was
livin up here to Marion. Mr. Ferdinand Gibson, dat who been us Massa in
slavery time en Miss Connie, dat what we used to call her, was us
Missus. To my knowin, dey didn' have no chillun dey own, but dey sho had
plenty colored people. Yes, mam, seems like to my remembrance, my Massa
ran bout 30 plantations en 'sides dat, he had a lot of servants right up
here to de big house, men en women."
"I was real small in dem days en far as I can remember, we lived on de
quarter dere to old Massa's plantation in de country. Us little tots
would go every mornin to a place up on de hill, called de milk house, en
get our milk 'tween meals while de old folks was off workin. Oh, dey had
a old woman to see after we chillun en tend to us in de daytime. De old
lady dat looked after us, her name was Mary Novlin. Lord, Mr. Gibson, he
had big farms en my mother en father, dey worked on de farms. Yes'um, my
mother en father, I used to never wouldn' know when dey come home in de
evenin, it would be so late. De old lady, she looked after every blessed
thing for us all day long en cooked for us right along wid de mindin.
Well, she would boil us corn meal hominy en give us dat mostly wid milk
for breakfast. Den dey would have a big garden en she would boil peas en
give us a lot of soup like dat wid dis here oven bread. Oh, dem what
worked in de field, dey would catch dey meals when dey could. Would have
to cook way in de night or sometimes fore day. Cose dey would take dey
dinner rations wid dem to de field. More or less, dey would cook it in
de field. Yes'um, dey would carry dey pots wid dem en cook right dere in
de field whe' dey was workin. Would boil pots en make bread, too. I don'
know how long dey had to work, mam, but I hear dem say dat dey worked
hard, cold or hot, rain or shine. Had to hoe cotton en pick cotton en
all such as dat. I don' know, mam, but de white folks, I guess dey took
it dat dey had plenty colored people en de Lord never meant for dem to
do no work. You know, white folks in dem days, dey made de colored
people do."
"De people used to spin en weave, my Lord! Like today, it cloudy en
rainy, dey couldn' work in de field en would have to spin dat day. Man,
you would hear dat thing windin en I remember, I would stand dere en
want to spin so bad, I never know what to do. Won' long fore I got to
whe' I could use de shuttle en weave, too. I bad a grandmother en when
she would get to dat wheel, she sho know what she been doin. White folks
used to give de colored people task to spin en I mean she could do dat
spinnin. Yes'um, I here to tell you, dey would make de prettiest cloth
in dat day en time. Old time people used to have a kind of dye dey
called indigo en dey would color de cloth just as pretty as you ever did
see."
"Den I recollects dat dey would have to shuck corn some of de days en
wouldn' nobody work in de field dat day. Oh, my Lord, dey would have de
big eats on dem days. Would have a big pot right out to de barn whe' dey
was shuckin corn en would boil it full as it could hold wid such as peas
en rice en collards. Would cook big bread, too, en would save a hog's
head for dat purpose often times."
"Colored people didn' have no schools nowhe' in dat day en time. No'um,
us didn' go to no church neither cause we was way off dere on de
plantation en wasn' any church nowhe' bout dere, Miss. I likes to be
truthful en I tellin you, when we was comin up, we never didn' know
nothin 'cept what we catch from de old folks."
"Old Massa, he used to come to de plantation drivin his rockaway en my
Lord a mercy, we chillun did love to run en meet him. Dey used to have a
great big gate to de lane of de plantation en when we been hear him
comin, we would go a runnin en holler, 'Massa comin! Massa comin!' En he
would come ridin through de big gate en say, 'Yonder my little niggers!
How my little niggers? Come here en tell me how you all.' Den we would
go a runnin to him en try to tell him what he ax us. Yes'um, we was sho
pleased to see old Massa cause we had to stay right dere on dat
plantation all de time round bout dat old woman what tended to us. Used
to hear my mother en my father speak bout dey had to get a ticket from
dey boss to go anywhe' dey wanted to go off de place. Pataroller catch
dem off de plantation somewhe' widout dat walkin ticket, dey would whip
dem most to death. Never didn' hear bout old Massa whippin none of dem,
but he was very tight on dem, my father say. Cose he give dem abundance
of rations en somethin to eat all de time, but colored people sho been
work for what dey would get in dem days. Didn' get nothin dey never pay
for. It been like dis, what rations us parents would get, dat would be
to dey house en what we chillun been get would be to de old woman's
house what took care of us."
"Well, Miss, some people stays here wid me, but dey works out en I tries
to help dem out somehow. No, mam, we all stays right here together en
while dey on de job, I tries to look out for de chillun. I just thinkin
bout when we come to a certain age, honey, it tough. Chillun is a heap
of trouble, I say. Well, I was de mother of five, but dey all dead 'cept
one. My husband, he been dead seven years. Yes'um, dis a bad little girl
settin here in my lap en dat one over dere in de bed, he a boy what a
right smart larger den dis one." (Little girl just can stand alone).
(Little boy wakes up). "Son, dere you wantin to get up en I don' know
whe' near a rag to put on you is. Dere, you want a piece of bread fore
you is dress. Who undressed you last night nohow? Boy, you got to stand
dere en wait till your mamma come home cause I can' find none your rags.
What de matter wid you? You so hungry, you just standin dere wid your
mouth droolin dat way. Dere your bread en tea on de bureau. Gwine on en
get it." (Little boy's breakfast consisted of a cold biscuit and a
little cold coffee poured in an empty coffee can. The little girl sat
with a clump of cold hominy in her hand on which she nibbled.)
"Lord, I think what a blessin it would be if chillun dese days was raise
like dey used to be, Miss. Yes, mam, we had what you call strict fathers
en mothers den, but chillun ain' got dem dese days. Oh, dey would whip
you en put de lash to you in dat day en time. Yes'um, Miss, if we never
do right, my father would put it to us. Sho meant what he say. Wouldn'
never whip you on Sunday though. Say dat he would get you tomorrow. Den
when Monday come, he would knock all bout like he had forget, but
toreckly he would call you up en he would sho work on you. Pa say, 'I'm
not gwine let you catch me in no lie. When I tell you I gwine cut you, I
gwine do it.' Miss, I is had my mother to hurt me so bad till I would
just fall down en roll in de sand. Hurt! Dey hurt, dat dey did. Wouldn'
whip you wid no clothes on neither. Would make you pull off. Yes, mam, I
could sniffle a week, dey been cut me such licks. Thought dey had done
me wrong, but dey know dey ain' been doin me wrong en I mean dey didn'
play wid me."
"Miss, I think folks is livin too fast in de world today. Seems to me
like all de young people is worser, I say. Well, I tell you, dey be
ridin out all times of night en girls meetin up wid Miss Fortune. At
least, our colored girls does. En don' care what dey do neither. Don'
seem to care what dey do nor how dey do. De girls nowadays, dey gets dey
livin. Girls settin higher den what dey makes demselves dese days."
Source: Josephine Bristow, colored, 73 years, Marion, S. C.
Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Jan., 1938
Project #1655
W. W. Dixon
Winnsboro, S. C.
ANNE BROOME
EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.
"Does you recollect de Galloway place just dis side of White Oak? Well
dere's where I was born. When? Can't name de 'zact year but my ma say,
no stork bird never fetch me but de fust railroad train dat come up de
railroad track, when they built de line, fetched me. She say I was a
baby, settin' on de cow-ketcher, and she see me and say to pa: 'Reubin,
run out dere and get our baby befo' her falls off and gets hurt under
them wheels! Do you know I believed dat tale 'til I was a big girl? Sure
did, 'til white folks laugh me out of it!
"My ma was name Louisa. My marster was Billie Brice, but 'spect God done
write sumpin' else on he forehead by dis time. He was a cruel marster;
he whip me just for runnin' to de gate for to see de train run by. My
missus was a pretty woman, flaxen hair, blue eyes, name Mary Simonton,
'til she marry.
"Us live in a two-room plank house. Plenty to eat and enough to wear
'cept de boys run 'round in their shirt tails and de girls just a
one-piece homespun slip on in de summer time. Dat was not a hardship
then. Us didn't know and didn't care nothin' 'bout a 'spectable
'pearance in those days. Dats de truth, us didn't.
"Gran'pa name Obe; gran'ma, name Rachel. Shoes? A child never have a
shoe. Slaves wore wooden bottom shoes.
"My white folks went to New Hope Church. Deir chillun was mighty good to
us all. Dere was Miss Martha, her marry Doctor Madden, right here at
Winnsboro. Miss Mary marry Marster John Vinson, a little polite smilin'
man, nice man, though. Then Miss Jane marry Marster John Young. He
passed out, leavin' two lovely chillun, Kitty and Maggie. Both of them
marry Caldwells. Dere was Marster Calvin, he marry Congressman Wallace's
daughter, Ellen. Then dere was Marster Jim and Marster William, de last
went to Florida.
"It was a big place, I tell you, and heaps and heaps of slaves. Some
times they git too many and sell them off. My old mistress cry 'bout dat
but tears didn't count wid old marster, as long as de money come a
runnin' in and de rations stayed in de smoke house.
"Us had a fine carriage. Sam was de driver. Us go to Concord one Sunday
and new Hope de next. Had quality fair neighbors. Dere was de
Cockerells, 'Piscopalians, dat 'tend St. John in Winnsboro, de Adgers,
big buckra, went to Zion in Winnsboro. Marster Burr Cockerell was de
sheriff. 'Members he had to hang a man once, right in de open jailyard.
Then dere was a poor buckra family name Marshall. Our white folks was
good to them, 'cause they say his pappy was close kin to de biggest
Jedge of our country, John Marshall.
"When de slaves got bad off sick, marster send for Dr. Walter Brice, his
kin folks. Some times he might send for Dr. Madden, him's son-in-law, as
how he was.
"When de Yankees come, all de young marsters was off in de 'Federate
side. I see them now, gallopin' to de house, canteen boxes on their hips
and de bayonets rattlin' by deir sides. De fust thing they ask, was:
'You got any wine?' They search de house; make us sing: 'Good Old Time
'Ligion'; put us to runnin' after de chickens and a cookin'. When they
leave they burnt de gin house and everything in dere. They burn de
smoke-house and wind up wid burnin' de big house.
"You through wid me now, boss? I sho' is glad of dat. Help all you kin
to git me dat pension befo' I die and de Lord will bless you, honey. De
Lord not gwine to hold His hand any longer 'ginst us. Us cleared de
forests, built de railroads, cleaned up de swamps, and nursed de white
folks. Now in our old ages, I hopes they lets de old slaves like me see
de shine of some of dat money I hears so much talk 'bout. They say it's
free as de gift of grace from de hand of de Lord. Good mornin' and God
bless you, will be my prayer always. Has you got a dime to give dis old
nigger, boss?"
Project #1655
Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Georgetown County
MOM HAGAR
(Verbatim Conversation)
Mom Hagar Brown lives in her little weathered cabin on forty odd acres
left by her husband, Caleb Brown. Caleb died in Georgia where he had
been sent to the penitentiary for stealing a hog that another man stole.
Aunt Hagar has grands settled all around her and she and the grands
divide up the acreage which is planted in corn, sweet potatoes, cotton,
and some highland rice. She ministers to them all when sick, acts as
mid-wife when necessary, and divides her all with her kin and
friends--white and black. She wages a war on ground-moles, at which she
laughs and says she resembles. Ground-mole beans almost a foot long
protect and decorate her yard. She has apple and fig trees, and
scuppernong grape vines grow rank and try to climb all her trees.
(Monday morning she hobbles up on a stick--limping and looking sick.)
Comes in kitchen door.
Lillie: "Aunt Hagar, how you?"
Hagar: "Painful. Doctor tell me I got the tonsil. Want to represent me
one time and take them out. I say, 'No Doctor! Get in hospital, can't
get out! Let me stay here till my change come.' Yeddy? I ain't wuth!
Ain't wuth! Ain't got a piece o' sense. Yeddy? Ellen say she want God to
take she tomorrow? When you ready it's 'God take me now! All right
son!" (Greeting Zackie who enters kitchen.)
Zackie: "Aunt Hagar, how you feel?"
Hagar: "I ain't wuth son. How's all?"
Zackie: "Need a little more grits!"
Lillie: "Hear Zackie! Mom Hagar, that ain't hinder him ordering
another!" (The fact that food is scarce doesn't limit Zackie's family.)
Hagar: "You hear bout this Jeremiah broke in somewhere--get all kinds
likker and canned things and different thing?"
Zackie: "Must a broke in that place call 'Stumble Inn!' (Very
seriously.) That Revenue man been there."
Hagar: "I yeddy last night! Say he there in news-paper. Mary say, 'see
'em in paper!' Mrs. White gone to child funeral. That been in paper too.
Mary see that in paper. Easter say old lady gone dere. Doctor say better
go. Child sick. Child seven years old. Fore they get there tell 'em say,
'Child dead!'
"People gone in patch to pick watermillon. Ain't want child to go. You
know chillun! Child gone in. Ain't want 'em for go. You know. Child pick
watermillon. Ketch up one--I forgotten what pound they say. Roll. Roll
duh watermillon. Roll 'em on snake! They say, 'Snake bite 'em?' Child
say, 'No. Must a scratch.' See blood run on boy leg. Child get
unconscion that minute. Gone right out. Jess so. Ease out so. I cry. I
cry!"
Lillie: "You know 'em, Mom Hagar?"
Hagar: "No! No! Lill, fever got me! Cold get me till my rump dead. Got
hospital boy rouse one time say, 'Ma, less go home! Red stripe snake
bite me.'"
* * * * *
Hagar: "Klu Klux?" (Chin cupped in hand--elbow on knee--looking way
off--)
"Reckon that the way them old timey people call 'em. Have to run way,
you go church. Going to come in to ketch you or do any mischievous
thing--come carry you place they going beat you--in suit of white. Old
white man to Wilderness Plantation. Parish old man name. Treat his wife
bad. Come to house, ain't crack. Come right in suit of white. Drag him
out--right to Woodstock there where Mr. Dan get shoot. Put a beating on
that white man there till he mess up! Oman never gone back to him yet!"
"A man wuz name (I forgot what the man name wuz)--wuz a white man mess
round wid a colored woman and they didn't do a God thing but gone and
put a beating on you, darling! Come in. Grab you and go. Put a beating
on you till you can't see. Know they got a good grub to lick you wid.
They git done you can't sit down. Ain't going carry you just for play
with."
"Mom Hagar, you wanter vote?"
Hagar: "Oh my God!"
"Aunt Hagar are the colored people happier now than the old timey
slavery time people?"
Hagar: "Young people now got the world by force. Don't care. Got more
trick than law low. Tricky! Can't beat the old people. Can't equal to
'em. Some the young people you say 'AMEN' in church they make fun o'
you. Every tub stand on his own bottom. Can't truss 'em.
"Ma say some dem plan to run way. Say, 'Less run! Less run!' Master
ketch dem and fetch dem in. Lay 'em cross barrel. Beat dem till they
wash in blood. Fetch 'em back. Place 'em cross the barrel--hogsket
barrel--Christ! They ramp wash in blood! Beat Ma sister. He sister
sickly. Never could clear task--like he want. My Ma have to work he self
to death to help Henritta so sickly. Clear task to keep from beat. Some
obersheer mean. Oaks labor. (Meaning her Ma and ma's family were
laboring on Oaks Plantation--the plantation where Gov. Joseph Allston
and Theodosia his wife lived on Waccamaw.) Mother Sally Doctor. Ma got
four chillun. One was Emmeline, one Getty, one Katrine one Hagar! I
older than Gob (Katrine). Could a call doctor for Gob if I had any
sense." (Big nuff to gone for doctor when Gob born.)
"Stay in the field!
Stay in the field!
Stay in the field till the war been end!"
(This is Aunt Hagar's favorite song)
Mom Hagar Brown--age 77
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
July 4th, 1937.
Project #-1655
Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Georgetown County
(Some recollections of Mom Hagar Brown)
Visitor: "Mom Hagar, how old did you say you were?"
Hagar: "Don't take care of my age! Had me gang of chillun when ma die. I
had Samuel, I had Elias, I had Arthur, I had Beck. Oh, my God! Man, go
way! I had Sally! I had Sally again. I didn't want to give the name
'Sally' again. Say, 'First Sally come carry girl.' Ma say, 'Gin 'em name
'Sally!' I faid (afraid) that other one come back for him. Had to do
what Ma say. Had to please 'em. Ma name Sally. Ma chillun Catrine,
Hagar, Emmeline, Gettie. I born Columbia. Come Freedom, when we left
Columbia, ma finer till we get in Charston. Freedom come, battle till we
get 'Oaks.' (Battled till they reached the 'Oaks Plantation--.')Stay
there till people gin (begin) move bout. Come Watsaw. Gone 'Collins
Creek.' In the 'Reb Time' you know, when they sell you bout--Massa sell
you all about. Broke through them briar and branch and thing to go to
church. Them patrol get you. Church 'Old Bethel.' You don't know 'em.
Been gone!
"I yeddy ma! (heard my mother) Ma say, 'I too glad my chillun aint been
here Rebs time! Gin you task you rather drown than not done that task!
Ma say Auntie poor we weak creeter, couldn't strain. Ma had to strain to
fetch sister up with her task. Dere (there) in rice-field. Ma say they
on flat going to islant (island), see cloud, pray God send rain! When
rooster crow, say they pray God to stop 'em! Rooster crow, broke up
wedder! When rooster crow, scare 'em. Broke up rain! Ma say they drag
the pot in the river when the flat going cross. Do this to make it rain.
Massa! Don't done you task, driver wave that whip, put you over the
barrel, beat you so blood run down! I wouldn't take 'em! Ma say, 'I too
glad my chillun aint born then!'
"Any cash money? Where you gwine get 'em? Only cash the gospel! Have to
get the gospel. Give you cloth! Give you ration! Jess (just according)
many chillun you got. Ma say chillun feed all the corn to the fowl.
Chillun say,
'Papa love he fowl!
Papa love he fowl!
Three peck a day!
Three peck a day!
"Parent come to door. Not a grain of corn leave! Poor people! Come,
drop! Not a grain! Everybody on the hill help. One give this; one give
that. Handle 'em light! (Very careful with victuals). Gone you till
Saddy (Saturday.) (Will last you until Saturday when you are rationed
again.)
"When Ma get down, she say, 'I gone leave! I gone leave here now! But,
oh, Hagar! Be a mudder and fadder for Katrine!'
"I say, (I call Katrine 'Gob') I say, 'Better tell Gob to look atter
me!'
"Ma say, 'When I gone I ax the Master when he take me, to send drop o'
rain to let true believer know I gone to Glory!'
"When they lift the body to take 'em to the church, rain, 'Tit! Tit!
Tit! Tit!' on the house! At the gate, moon shine out' Going to the
church! Bury to the 'Oaks.'
"Gob say, 'Titty, all you chillun bury at Oaks. Ma to Oaks. How come you
wanter bury Watsaw?"
"I say, 'When the trumpet sound, I yeddy!' (When the trumpet sounds,
I'll hear it!)
"I marry right to Collins Creek hill. Big dance out the door! I free! I
kick up! Ma, old rebs time people!"
Mom Hagar Brown
Age--(She says 'Born first o'
Freedom' but got her age from
a contemporary and reported 77)
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Project #-1655
Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Georgetown County
EX-SLAVE STORY
(Verbatim)
"My old man can 'member things and tell you things and he word carry. We
marry to Turkey Hill Plantation. Hot supper. Cake, wine, and all. Kill
cow, hog, chicken and all. That time when you marry, so much to eat!
Finance wedding! Now--
"We 'lamp-oil chillun'; they 'lectric light' chillun now! We call our
wedding 'lamp-oil wedding'. Hall jam full o' people; out-of-door jam
full. Stand before the chimbley.
"When that first war come through, we born. I don't know just when I
smell for come in the world.
"Big storm? Yinnah talk big storm hang people up on tree? (Noah!) Shake?
I here in house. House gone, 'Rack-a-rack-a-racker!'
"My husband run out--with me and my baby left in bed! Baby just come in
time of the shake.
"When I first have sense, I 'member I walk on the frost bare-feet.
Cow-belly shoe.
"My husband mother have baby on the flat going to Marion and he Auntie
Cinda have a baby on that flat.
"From yout (youth) I been a Brown and marry a Brown; title never change.
"Old timey sing?
1.
"Wish I had a hundred dog
And half wuz hound!
Take it in my fadder field
And we run the rabbit down!
Chorus: Now he hatch
He hatch!
He hatch!
And I run the rabbit down!
2.
"I wish I had a hundred head o' dog
And half of them wuz hound
I'd take 'em back in my bacco field
And run the rabbit down.
Chorus: Now he hatch--he hatch!
He hatch--he hatch!
Now he hatch--he hatch!
And I run them rabbit down!"
"That wuz a sing we used to have on the plantation. Then we make up
sing--we have sing for chillun. Make 'em go sleep. Every one have his
own sing.
"Bye-o-baby!
Go sleepy!
Bye-o-baby!
Go sleepy!
What a big alligator
Coming to catch
This one boy!"
"Diss here the Watson one boy child!
Bye-o-baby go sleepy!
What a big alligator
Coming to catch this one boy!"
Emmie Jordan: "Missus, I too plague with bad heart trouble to give you
the sing!"
Song and conversation Given by
Mom Louisa Brown (Born time of 'Reb people War')
Waverly Mills, S. C.
Near Parkersville, S. C.
Project -1655
Jessie A. Butler
Charleston, S. C.
Approximately 930 words
FOLKLORE
Stories from Ex-slaves
Henry Brown
Ex-slave Age 79
Henry Brown, negro caretaker of the Gibbes House, at the foot of Grove
street, once a part of Rose Farm, is a splendid example of a type once
frequently met with in the South. Of a rich brown complexion, aquiline
of feature, there is none of the "Gullah" about Henry. He is courteous
and kindly in his manner, and speaks more correctly than the average
negro.
"My father was Abram Brown, and my mother's name was Lucy Brown," he
said. "They were slaves of Dr. Arthur Gordon Rose. My grandfather and
grandmother were grown when they came from Africa, and were man and wife
in Africa. I was born just about two years before the war so I don't
remember anything about slavery days, and very little about war times,
except that we were taken to Deer Pond, about half mile from Columbia.
Dr. Rose leased the place from Dr. Ray, and took his family there for
safety. My mother died while he was at Deer Pond, and was buried there,
but all the rest of my people is buried right here at Rose Farm. My two
brothers were a lot older than me, and were in the war. After the war my
brother Tom was on the police force, he was a sergeant, and they called
him Black Sergeant. My brother Middleton drove the police wagon: they
used to call it Black Maria.
"My father, Abram Brown, was the driver or head man at Rose plantation.
Dr. Rose thought a heap of him, and during the war he put some of his
fine furniture and other things he brought from England in my father's
house and told him if the Yankees came to say the things belonged to
him. Soon after that the soldiers came. They asked my father who the
things belonged to and he said they belonged to him. The soldiers asked
him who gave them to him, and he said his master gave them to him. The
Yankees told him that they thought he was lying, and if he didn't tell
the truth they would kill him, but he wouldn't say anything else so they
left him alone and went away.
"Work used to start on the plantation at four o'clock in the morning,
when the people went in the garden. At eight or nine o'clock they went
into the big fields. Everybody was given a task of work. When you
finished your task you could quit. If you didn't do your work right you
got a whipping.
"The babies were taken to the Negro house and the old women and young
colored girls who were big enough to lift them took care of them. At one
o'clock the babies were taken to the field to be nursed, then they were
brought back to the Negro house until the mothers finished their work,
then they would come for them.