bout how to be thankful enough for what dey have dese days. I tell de
truth de peoples sho had to scratch bout en make what dey had in slavery
time. Baby, dey plant patches of okra en parch dat en make what coffee
dey have. Den dey couldn' get no shoes like dey hab dese days neither.
Just make em out of de hide of dey own cows dat dey butcher right dere
on de plantation. Coase de peoples had plenty sometin to eat like meat
en turkey en chicken en thing like dat. Oh, my God, couldn' see de top
of de smoke house for all de heap of meat dey have in dem times. En milk
en butter, honey, dey didn' never be widout plenty of dat. De peoples
bout here dese days axes ten cents a quart for sweet milk en five cents
a quart for old sour clabber. What you think bout dat? Dat how-come
people have to hunt jobs so mucha dese days. Have to do some sorta work
cause you know dey got to put sometin in dey mouth somewhe' or another.
Oh, my child, slavery days was troublesome times. Sugar en salt never
run free wid de peoples den neither. I know de day been here when salt
was so scarce dat dey had to go to de seashore en get what salt dey had.
I gwine to tell you all bout dat. Dey hitch up two horses to a wagon en
den dey make another horse go in front of de wagon to rest de other
horses long de way. Dey mostly go bout on a Monday en stay three days.
Boil dat salty water down dere en fetch two en three of dem barrel of
salt back wid em dey get dat way. It was just like dis, it take heap of
salt when dey had dem big hog-killin days. En de sugar, dey make dat
too. Made de sugar in lil blocks dat dey freeze just like dey freeze ice
dis day en time. I know dey do dat--know it. Dey make molasses en some
of it would be lighter den de other en dey freeze dat en make de
prettiest lil squares just like de ice you see dese days. Dey have
sometin to freeze it in. Dis here old black mammy know heap of things
you ain' never hear bout. Oh, baby, de peoples sho bless dese days."
"Oh, my god, de colored peoples worship to de white folks church in
slavery time. You know dat Hopewell Church over de river dere, dat a
slavery church. Dat whe' I go to church den wid my white folks. I had a
lil chair wid a cowhide bottom dat I always take everywhe' I go wid me.
If I went to church, dat chair go in de carriage wid me en den I take it
in de church en set right by de side of my Miss. Dat how it was in
slavery time. Oh, my Lord, dere a big slavery people graveyard dere to
dat Hopewell Church."
"Honey, you mind if I smoke my pipe a lil whilst I settin here talkin
wid you. I worry so much wid dis high blood dese days en a ringin in my
ears dat my pipe de only thing dat does seem to satisfy my soul. I tell
you dat high blood a bad thing. It get such a hold on me awhile back dat
I couldn' do nothin, couldn' pick cotton, couldn' say my--me, couldn'
even say, God a mighty--thing pretty. Oh, I don' know. I start smokin
pipe long time ago when I first start nursin babies. Had to do sometin
like dat den."
"No, Lord, I never believe nothin bout dat but what God put here. I hear
some people say dey was conjure, but I don' pay no attention to dey
talk. Dey say somebody poison em for sometin dey do, but dere ain'
nobody do dat. God gwine to put you down when he get ready. Ain' nobody
else do dat."
"Oh, my Lord, I been here a time. I sho been here a time en I thank de
Lord I here dis day en time. I can thread my needle good as ever I could
en I ain' have no speck neither. Sew night en day. De chillun have dey
lamp dere studyin en I hab my lamp dere sewin. My old Miss learnt me to
sew when I stay right in de house wid her all de time. I stay bout white
folks all my life en dat how-come I so satisfy when I wid em."
Source: Mom Sara Brown, age 85, ex-slave, Marion, S. C.
Personal interview, June 1937.
Code No. ----
Project, 1885-(1)
Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis
Place, Marion, S. C.
Date, September 10, 1937
No. Words ----
Reduced from ---- words
Rewritten by ----
MOM SARA BROWN
Ex-Slave, 85 Years
"I stay in house over dere cross Catfish Swamp on Miss Addie McIntyre
place. Lives wid dis grand-daughter dat been sick in bed for four weeks,
but she mendin some now. She been mighty low, child. It start right in
here (chest) en run down twixt her shoulder. She had a tear up cold too,
but Dr. Dibble treat her en de cough better now. She got three chillun
dere dat come just like steps. One bout like dat en another like dat en
de other bout like dis."
"De house we stay in a two room house wid one of dese end chimney. All
sleep in de same room en cook en eat in de other room. My bed on one
side en Sue bed on de other side. Put chillun on quilts down on de floor
in de other end of de room. Baby, whe' dem curtains you say you gwine
give me? I gwine hang dese up in Sue room. Dey help me fix up de room
nice en decent like."
"It all on me to feed en clothe both dem chillun en de baby too. It just
too much on me old as I is. Can' do nothin worth to speak bout hardly
dese days. Can' hold my head down cause dis high blood worries me so
much. It get too hot, can' iron. If ain' too hot, I makes out to press
my things somehow en sweep my yard bout. Sometimes I helps little bit
wid doctor case, but not often. Can wash de baby en de mother, but can'
do no stayin up at night. No, baby, can' do no settin up at night."
"I tries to catch all what little I can to help along cause dat how I
was raise up. Government truck brings me little somethin once a month
pack up in packages like dry milk en oatmeal en potatoes. Give dat to
all dem dat can' work en ain' got nobody to help dem. Dat dry milk a
good thing to mix up de bread wid en den it a help to fix little milk en
bread for dem two little ones. De potatoes, I stews dem for de chillun
too. Dey mighty fond of dem. Now de oatmeal, de chillun don' eat dat so
I fixes it for Sue en every now en den I takes a little bit wid my
breakfast."
"I don' know much what to tell you bout Abraham Lincoln. I think he was
a mighty great man, a mighty great man, what I hear of him."
"I remembers de Yankees come dere to my white folks plantation one day
en, child, dere was a time on dat place. All dem niggers was just a
kickin up dey heels en shoutin. I was standin dere on de piazza lookin
at dem en I say, 'I don' see why dey want to carry on like dat for. I
been free all de time.' When dey get through de Yankees tell dem dey was
free as dey Massa was en give dem so many bushels of corn en so much
meat for dey own. Some take dey pile en go on off en some choose to stay
on dere wid dey Missus. She was good to all her colored people en dey
stay on dere for part de crop. Give dem so much of de crop accordin to
de chillun dey had to feed. I know dis much, dey all know dey gwine get
12 bushels of corn a year, if dey ain' get no more. Dat a bushel every
month. Yes, dat how it was."
"O Lord, baby, I don' know a thing bout none of dat thing call conjurin.
Don' know nothin bout it. Dat de devil work en I ain' bother wid it. Dey
say some people can kill you, but dey ain' bother me. Some put dey trust
in it, but not me. I put my trust in de Lord cause I know it just a talk
de people have. No, Lord, I can' remember dat neither. I hear dem say
Raw Head en Bloody Bones would catch you if you be bad, but how it
started, I don' know. I know I don' know nothin bout how dey look en I
don' want to see dem neither. No, child, people say dey sho to be, but I
ain' see none. How dey look, I don' know."
"I don' know what to think bout de times dese days. De times worse den
dey used to be, child. You know dey worse. Dis here a fast time de
people livin on cause everybody know de people die out heap faster den
dey used to. Don' care how dey kill you up. No, child, dey sho worser.
My people en yunnah people. Don' it seem so to you dat dey worser?"
"Baby, I got to get up from here en leave now cause I huntin medicine
dis mornin. I ain' got time to tell you nothin else dis time, but I
gwine get my mind fix up on it en den your old black mammy comin back
fore long en stay all day wid you en your mamma. What time dat clock say
it now, honey? I got to hurry en catch de doctor fore he get away from
his office en be so scatter bout till nobody can' tell whe' he is. Dr.
Dibble a good doctor, a mighty good doctor. When he come, don' never
come in no hurry. Takes pains wid you. Dat been my doctor. I is just
devoted to him."
Source: Mom Sara Brown, ex-slave, age 85, Marion, S. C.
Second Report.
Personal interview, September, 1937 by Annie Ruth
Davis, Marion, S. C.
Project #-1655
Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Georgetown County
FOLKLORE
(Some recollections of 'The Reb Time day' given by
Aunt Margaret Bryant)
Visitor: "How are you Aunt Margaret?"
Margaret: "Missus, I ain't wuth! I ain't wuth!"
Visitor: "Aunt Margaret you've been here a long time. How old are you?"
Margaret: "I can't tell you my age no way in the world! When freedom
come, I been here. Not big nuff (enough) for work for the Reb, but I
been here Reb time. Been big nuff (enough) to know when Yankee gun-boat
come to Watsaw (Wachesaw). Whole gang o' Yankee come to the house and
didn't do a thing but ketch (catch) a gang o' fowl and gone on. And tell
the people (meaning the slaves) to take the house and go in and get what
they want. The obersheer (overseer) hear the Doctor whistle to the gate
and wabe (wave) him back. And then the Doctor know the Yankee been there
and he gone on to the creek house and get all he gold and ting (thing)
out the house and gone--Marion till Freedom then he come back.
"Yankee come in that night. Moon shine lak a day. Stay in the Doctor
house that night. Morning come, take a gang o' fowl and gone on!"
Visitor: "Aunt Margaret, what was your name before you were married?"
Margaret: "Margaret One. Brother and sister? I ain't one when I come
here. Ain't meet aunty, uncle--none. Me and my brudder Michael wuz twin.
I ain't meet none when I come here. All been sell. Me and my Ma One
here. Mary One. Husband title, husband nichel (initial) been 'One.'
Number one carpenter--give 'em that name Michael One--and he gibe 'em
that name. Born Sandy Island. Been to landing to Watsaw when gun-boat
come. Just a sneak long! Boat white. Hab (have) a red chimbley
(chimney.) Didn't try to carry we off. Tell 'em 'Go and help youself.'
Been after the buckra. (The Yankee trying to catch the buckra.)
"I see my Ma dye with some bush they call 'indigo,' and black walnut
bark. Big old pen for the sheep-folds.
"My Pa sister, Ritta One had that job. Nuss (nurse) the chillun. Chillun
house. One woman nuss (nurse) all the chillun while they ma in the
field--rice field. All size chillun. Git the gipsy (gypsum) weed. Beat
'em up for worm. Give 'em when the moon change. Take a bucket and follow
dem. And tell the Doctor how much a worm that one make and that one and
count dem (them). When the moon change, do that.
"I have one born with caul. Loss he caul. Rat carry 'em. Ain't here; he
see nothin. (The custom seems to be, to preserve the caul.)
"Child born feet fore-most see 'um too." (See spirit) "Talk chillun? Put
duh switch. Put you 'Bull pen.' Hab 'um (have them) a place can't see
you hand before you. Can't turn round good in there. Left you in there
till morning. Give you fifty lash and send you to work. You ain't done
that task, man and woman lick!
"Couldn't manage my ma. Obersheer (overseer) want to lick ma, Mary One
say, 'Going drownded meself! I done my work! Fore I take a lick, rather
drownded meself.'" Obersheer gone tell the Doctor. Tie her long rope.
Right to Sandy Island. Man hold the rope. Gone on. Jump in river. So
Doctor say, 'You too good labor for drown. Take dem (them) to Watsaw.'
Me and she and man what paddle the boat. Bring her to weave. Two womans
fuh card; two spin. Ma wop 'em off. Sail duh sheckel (shuttle) through
there.
"Po-buckra come there and buy cloth from Ma. Buy three and four yard. Ma
sell that, have to weave day and night to make up that cloth to please
obersheer. Come big day time. 'Little chillun, whey (where) Mama?' Tell
'em Ma to the weaving house. Don't have money fuh pay. Bring hog and
such like as that to pay.
"You know Marse Allard age? Me and Marse Allard suck together. Me and
Marse Allard and my brudder Michael. My ma fadder mix wid (with) the
Injun. Son Larry Aikens. Stay Charston (Charlestown). Just as clean!
(Meaning Larry, her Uncle, very bright skin. Mixed with Indian.) See 'em
the one time. Come from Charston bring Doctor two horse."
Given by Aunt Margaret Bryant
Age--(Born before Freedom)
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Project #1655
W. W. Dixon
Winnsboro, S. C.
SAVILLA BURRELL, EX-SLAVE, 83 YEARS
"Our preacher, Beaty, told me that you wanted to see me today. I walked
three miles dis mornin' before the sun gits hot to dis house. Dis house
is my grand daughter's house. Willie Caldwell, her husband, work down to
de cotton mill. Him make good money and take good care of her, bless the
Lord, I say."
"My Marster in slavery time was Captain Tom Still. He had big plantation
down dere on Jackson Crick. My Mistress name was Mary Ann, though she
wasn't his fust wife--jest a second wife, and a widow when she
captivated him. You know widows is like dat anyhow, 'cause day done had
'sperience wid mens and wraps dem 'round their little finger and git dem
under their thumb 'fore the mens knows what gwine on. Young gals have a
poor chance against a young widow like Miss Mary Ann was. Her had her
troubles with Marse Tom after her git him, I tell you, but maybe best
not to tell dat right now anyways."
"Marse Tom had four chillun by his fust wife, dey was John, Sam,
Henretta and I can't 'member de name of the other one; least right now.
Dey teached me to call chillun three years old, young Marse and say
Missie. Dey whip you if dey ever hear you say old Marse or old Missie.
Dat riled dem."
"My pappy name Sam. My mother name Mary. My pappy did not live on the
same place as mother. He was a slave of de Hamiltons, and he got a pass
sometimes to come and be with her; not often. Grandmammy name Ester and
she belonged to our Marse Tom Still, too."
"Us lived in a log cabin wid a stick chimney. One time de sticks got
afire and burnt a big hole in de back of de chimney in cold winter time
wid the wind blowing, and dat house was filled wid fire-sparks, ashes,
and smoke for weeks 'fore dey tore dat chimney down and built another
jest like the old one. De bed was nailed to de side of de walls. How
many rooms? Jest one room."
"Never seen any money. How many slaves? So many you couldn't count dem.
Dere was plenty to eat sich as it was, but in the summer time before us
git dere to eat de flies would be all over de food and some was swimmin'
in de gravy and milk pots. Marse laugh 'bout dat, and say, it made us
fat."
"Dey sell one of mother's chillun once, and when she take on and cry
'bout it, Marse say, 'stop dat sniffin' dere if you don't want to git a
whippin'.' She grieve and cry at night 'bout it. Clothes? Yes Sir, us
half naked all de time. Grown boys went 'round bare footed and in dey
shirt tail all de summer."
"Marse was a rich man. 'Fore Christmus dey would kill thirty hogs and
after Christmus, thirty more hogs. He had a big gin house and sheep,
goats, cows, mules, hosses, turkeys, geese, and a stallion; I members
his name, Stockin'-Foot. Us little niggers was skeered to death of dat
stallion. Mothers used to say to chillun to quiet dem, 'Better hush,
Stockin'-Foot will git you and tramp you down.' Any child would git
quiet at dat."
"Old Marse was de daddy of some mulatto chillun. De 'lations wid de
mothers of dese chillun is what give so much grief to Mistress. De
neighbors would talk 'bout it and he would sell all dem chillun away
from dey mothers to a trader. My Mistress would cry 'bout dat.
"Our doctor was old Marse son-in-law, Dr. Martin. I seen him cup a man
once. He was a good doctor. He give slaves castor oil, bleed dem some
times and make dem take pills."
"Us looked for the Yankees on dat place like us look now for de Savior
and de host of angels at de second comin'. Dey come one day in February.
Dey took everything carryable off de plantation and burnt de big house,
stables, barns, gin house and dey left the slave houses."
"After de war I marry Osborne Burrell and live on de Tom Jordan place.
I'se de mother of twelve chillun. Jest three livin' now. I lives wid the
Mills family three miles 'bove town. My son Willie got killed at de
DuPont Powder Plant at Hopewell, Virginia, during de World War. Dis
house you settin' in belongs to Charlie Caldwell. He marry my grand
daughter, Willie B. She is twenty-three years old."
"Young Marse Sam Still got killed in de Civil War. Old Marse live on. I
went to see him in his last days and I set by him and kept de flies off
while dere. I see the lines of sorrow had plowed on dat old face and I
'membered he'd been a captain on hoss back in dat war. It come into my
'membrance de song of Moses; 'de Lord had triumphed glorily and de hoss
and his rider have been throwed into de sea'."
"You been good to listen. Dis is the fust time I can git to speak my
mind like dis mornin'. All de' people seem runnin' here and yonder,
after dis and after dat. Dere is a nudder old slave, I'se gwine to bring
him down here Saturday and talk to you again."
Project 1885-1
FOLKLORE
Spartanburg, S. C.
Sept. 15, 1937
Edited by:
Elmer Turnage
STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES
"I works on de shares and makes a fair living on a rented farm; don't
own no land. I was born in Newberry County, near de old Longshore store,
about 12 miles northwest of Newberry Courthouse on de Henry Burton
place. My parents belonged to Henry Burton in slavery time. He was our
marster. I married Betty Burton, a nigger girl whose parents belonged to
Marse Henry Burton, too.
"We had a good marster and mistress. Dey give us a good place to sleep
and lots to eat. He had a big four-acre garden where he raised lots of
vegetables fer his slaves. He had plenty meat, molasses and bread. We
ground our corn and wheat and made our own feed.
"Marster wouldn't let anybody bother his slaves. He wouldn't 'low his
overseers or de padrollers to whip 'em. He never whipped one.
"We had no school and no church; but was made to go to de white folks
church and set in de gallery. When Freedom come, de niggers begin to git
dere own church, and built small brush huts called 'brush harbors'.
"We didn't do work on Saturday afternoons, but went hunting and fishing
den, while de women folks cleaned up around de place fer Sunday. De
marster liked to hunt, and he hunted foxes which was plenty around dere
den. Now dey is all gone.
"We danced and had gigs. Some played de fiddle and some made whistles
from canes, having different lengths for different notes, and blowed 'em
like mouth organs."
Source: C. B. Burton (79), Newberry, S. C.
Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (9/10/37)
Project #-1655
Phoebe Faucette
Hampton County
Folklore
GEORGE ANN BUTLER
Ex-Slave 75 Years
West of the paved highway at Garnett one may reach, after several miles,
the old Augusta Road that follows along the Savannah River from Augusta
to a landing point a little south of Garnett. Miles from the busy
highway, it passes, in quiet majesty, between fields and woods, made
rich by the river's overflow and heavy dews. Nature has done her best in
producing beautiful evergreen trees of immense size and much luxuriant
shrubbery of many kinds. Live oaks, magnolias, yellow slash pines,
hollies, and many evergreen shrubs keep the woods even in winter, a
fascinating wilderness to hunters and nature lovers. On this road George
Ann Butler lives, and has lived for the seventy-five years of her life.
"I was born an' raised on de Greenwood place. It belonged to ole man Joe
Bostick. He owned all dese places 'long dese here road. He own de
Bostick place back yonder; den he own de Pipe Creek place next dat; den
Oaklawn; den joinin' dat was Greenwood. De Colcock's Elmwood was next.
My Husband was birth right here on de Pipe Creek, an' been here ever
since. He kin tell you more'n I kin. I was George Anne Curry before I
marry.
"I can't remember so much 'bout slavery time. I was crawlin' over de
floor when slavery time--dey tell me. But atter de war, I 'members.
Couldn't find no corn seed! Couldn't find no cotton seed! Couldn't find
no salt! You knows it was hard times when dere wasn't no salt to season
de vegetables. Had to go down to de salt water an' get de water an'
boil it for salt. Dat been a long way from here. Must be fifty or sixty
mile! An' dey couldn't go so fast in dem days. Sufferin' been in de
neighborhood atter de war pass!
"Cotton was de thing 'way back yonder. An' right 'long dis road dey'd
haul it. Haul it to Cohen's Bluff! Haul it to Matthews Bluff! Haul it to
Parichucla! Don't haul it dis way no more! Send de cotton to de
railroad! But in dem days it was de ships dat carried it to Savannah.
Cotton seem to be play out now--dey plant so much.
"I hear 'em tell 'bout de war, an' havin' to drill an' step when dey say
step, an' throw up dey hands, when dey say throw up de hand. Everything
had to be done jes' so! De war was sure a terrible thing."
Source: George Anne Butler, R. F. D. Garnett, S. C.
Project #-1655
Phoebe Faucette
Hampton County
ISAIAH [~HW: Solbert (?)~] BUTLER, EX-SLAVE 79 YEARS
[~HW: See Ms. #~]
"Yes, dis is Isaiah Butler, piece of him. Ain't much left of him now.
Yes, I knows all 'bout dis heah country from way back. I was born and
raised right on dis same place here; lived here all my life 'sides from
travellin' round a little space. Dere was a rice field not far from dis
house here, where I plowed up more posts that had been used as
landmarks! Dis place was de Bostick place, and it jined to de Thomson
place, and de Thomson place to Edmund Martin's place dat was turned over
to Joe Lawton, his son-in-law. Bill Daniel had charge of de rice field I
was telling you 'bout. He was overseer, on de Daniel Blake place. Den
dere was de Maner place, de Trowell, de Kelly, and de Wallace places.
Back in dem times dey cultivated rice. Had mules to cultivate it! But
cotton and corn was what dey planted most of all; 4,000 acres I think
dey tell me was on dis place. I know it supposed to be more than ten
miles square. Nobody know de landmarks 'cept me. When de Bostick boys
came back from out west last year, dey had to come to me to find out
where dere place was. Dey didn't know nuttin' 'bout it. Dey used to use
twenty plow, and de hoe hands was over a hundred, I know.
"I 'member when de Yankees come through. I was no more'n a lad, nine or
ten years old. Bostick had a big gin-house, barn, stables, and such
like. And when de soldiers come a goat was up on de platform in front of
de door to de loft of de barn. Dere were some steps leadin' up dere and
dat goat would walk up dem steps same as any body. De fuss thing de
Yankees do, dey shoot dat goat. Den day start and tear up eberyt'ing.
All de white folks had refugeed up North, and dey didn't do nuttin' to
us niggers.
"Fore dat time I was jes' a little boy too young to do nuttin'. Jes'
played aroun' in de street. Ole Mr. Ben Bostick used to bring clothes
an' shoes to us and see dat we was well cared for. Dere was nineteen
houses in de street for us colored folks. Dey wuz all left by de
soldiers. But in de year 1882 dere come a cyclone (some folks call it a
tornado), and knocked down every house; only left four standing. Pieces
of clothes and t'ings were carried for four or five miles from here. It
left our house; but it took everyt'ing we had. It took de walls of de
house, jes' left de floorin', an' it wus turn 'round. Took everyt'ing!
I'd jes' been married 'bout a year, and you know how dat is. We jes' had
to scuffle and scuffle 'roun' till de Lord bless us.
"Dere wuz plenty of deer, squirrel, possum, an' rabbits in dem times; no
more dan dere is now, but dere wuz no hinderance den as now. De deer
come right up to my door now; dey come all 'roun' dis house, and we
cain't do nuttin'. De other day one wuz over dere by dat peachtree, an'
not long ago four of 'em come walkin' right through dis yard. I don't go
fishin' no more. Folks say de streams is all dried up. But I used to be
a good fisherman, me an' me ole woman. She's spryer'n me now. I used to
allus protect her when we wuz young, an' now its her dat's acarin' for
me. We had our gardens in de ole days, too. Oh, yes'm. Little patches of
collards, greens an' t'ings, but now I ain't able to do nuttin', jes'
hang 'roun' de place here.
"My father used to belong to General Butler, Dennis Butler was his name.
My mother was a Maner, but originally she wuz draw out of de Robert
estate. Ole Ben Bostick fuss wife wuz a Robert. Dey wuz sure wealthy
folks. One of 'em went off to sail. Bill F. Robert wuz his name. He had
so much money dat he say dat he goin' to de end of de world. He come
back an' he say he went so close hell de heat draw de pitch from de
vessel. But he lost his eyesight by it. Wa'n't (it was not) long after
he got back dat he went stone blind.