Mingo. Us all work on de place; run a farm on shares. I can't do much
work and can't support myself. It's mighty hard to be 'pendent on others
for your daily rations, even if them others is your own bone and flesh.
I'd 'preciate sumpin' to help my son and wife carry on. Dats why I wants
a pension. Do you 'spect God in His mercy will hear de prayer of dis
feeble old believer? I don't beg people but de Bible give me a right to
beg God for my daily bread. De Good Book say: 'Take no consarnment 'bout
your raiment'. You can see from what I's got on, dat me nor nobody else,
is much consarned 'bout dis raiment.
"My mammy b'long to de Smiths. My master was Dr. Ira Smith. My mistress
was him wife, Miss Sarah. Deir chillun was: Marse Gad, Marse Jim, and
Marse Billie. Marse Jim was de baker of dis town all his life, after de
way of old-time oven-cookin', 'til Boy bread and Claussen bread wagons
run him out of business. Him is now on de 'lief roll and livin' in de
old McCreight house, de oldest house in Winnsboro.
"Dere was my young misses, Miss Lizzie and Miss Lennie. My mammy name
Sarah, just lak old mistress name Sarah. Her b'long to marster and
mistress but my pappy no b'long to them. Him b'long to de big bugs, de
Davis family. Him was name Mingo, and after slavery him and all us take
de name, de secon' name, Davis, and I's here today, Jesse Davis. See how
dat work out to de name? Good Book again say: 'Good name better than
riches; sweeter to de ear than honey-comb to de tongue.'
"You is well 'quainted wid Marse Amos Davis, ain't you? Well, his people
was pappy's people. I had a brudder name Gabriel, tho' they called him
Gabe. Another one name Chap; he got kilt while clearin' up a new ground.
Sister Fannie marry a Ashford nigger. Marse Ira, de doctor, have a
plantation near Jenkinsville, S. C.
"When de Yankees come thru, they come befo' de main army. They gallop
right up, jump down and say: 'Hold dese hosses! Open dat smoke-house
door!' They took what they could carry 'way. 'Bout dat time marster rode
up from a sick call him been 'tendin' to. Course you know him was a
doctor. They surround him, take his watch, money, and hoss, and ride
'way.
"De main army come nex' day, Saturday mornin' 'bout 8 o'clock. They
spread deir tents and stay and camp 'til Monday mornin'. When they leave
they carry off all de cows, hogs, mules, and hosses. Then they have us
ketch de chickens, got them all, 'cept one old hen dat run under de
house, and they didn't wait to git her. Marster have to go 'way up to
Union County, where him have kin folks, to git sumpin' to eat.
"My marster was not big rich lak de Davises, de Means, and de Harpers,
but him have all them people come to see him. Him know a heap of things
dat they 'preciate. De way to dye cloth was one of dese secrets. Marster
have a madder bed. Him take de roots of dat madder put them in de sun
just lak you put out pieces of apples and peaches to make dried fruit.
When them roots git right dry, him have them ground up fine as
water-ground meal. He put de fine dust in a pot and boil it. When he
want red cloth, he just drop de cloth in dat pot and it come out all red
to suit you. Want it blue, him have a indigo patch for dat.
"I never hear anything 'bout alum dese days. Well, de slaves could take
peach tree leaves and alum and make yellow cloth and old cedar tops and
copperas and make tan cloth. Walnut stain and copperas and make any
cloth brown. Sweet-gum bark and copperas and make any cloth a purple
color. I 'member goin' wid one into de woods to git barks. One day old
marster come 'cross a slippery elm tree. Him turn and command me to say
right fast: 'Long, slim, slick saplin' and when I say long, slim, sick
slaplin', him 'most kill hisself laughin'. You try dat now! You find it
more harder to say than you think it is. Him give me a piece of dat bark
to chew and I run at de mouth lak you see a hoss dat been on de range of
wild clover all night and slobberin' at da bits.
"Yes sah, I b'longs to de church! My wife and son, Mingo, just us three
in de house and de whole household jined de Morris Creek Baptist Church.
What's my favorite song? None better than de one dat I'll h'ist right
now. Go ahead? I thanks you. Listen:
'Am I born to die
To lay dis body down
A charge to keep I have
A God to glorify.'
"You lak dat? Yes? You is praisin' me too highly I 'spect, but since you
lak dat one just listen at dis one; maybe you change your mind, 'cause
I's gwine to h'ist it a wee bit higher and put more of de spiritual in
it. Ready? Yes? I stand up dis time.
'All de medicine you may buy
All de doctors you may try
Ain't gonna save you from de tomb
Some day you got to lay down and die.
De blood of de Son can only
Save you from de doom!
Some day you got to lay down and die.'
"You lak dat one? You just ought to hear my wife, Mingo, and Me, singin'
dat 'round de fire befo' us go to bed.
"Well, I'll toddle 'long now. Good-bye."
Project, 1885-(1)
Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis
Place, Marion, S. C.
Date, February 4, 1938
LIZZIE'S 'SPONSIBILITY
I.
The first scene of "Lizzie's 'Sponsibility" is that of the small, one
room dwelling place of Lizzie Davis, aged colored woman of Marion, S. C.
A disorderly, ill-lighted, crudely furnished room, saturated with the
odor of food. Behind the front door stands a gayly colored iron bed,
over which is thrown a piece of oilcloth to keep the rain from leaking
on it. In the center of the room are several little quaint home-made
stools and two broken rockers, while in one corner sits a roughly
finished kitchen table, the dumping place of all small articles. Still
in another corner, almost hidden from sight in the darkness, is the dim
outline of an old trunk gaping open with worn out clothing, possibly the
gift of some white person. A big fireplace in one side of the wall not
only furnishes heat for the little room, but also serves as a cooking
place for Lizzie to prepare her meals. On its hearth sits a large iron
kettle, spider, and griddle, relics of an earlier day. The room is dimly
lighted by the fire and from two small doors, together with a few tiny
streaks that peep through at various cracks in the walls and top of
house.
It is about 9 o'clock on a cold, drizzly morning in January, 1938. The
little two room house, in which Lizzie rents one room for herself,
displays an appearance of extreme coldness and dilapidation, as a
visitor approaches the doorway on this particular morning. It is with
somewhat of an effort that the visitor finally reaches the barred door
of Lizzie's room, after making a skip here and there to keep from
falling through the broken places in the little porch and at the same
time trying to dodge the continual dripping of the rain through numerous
crevices in the porch roof. Within is the sound of little feet scuffling
about on the floor, the chatter of tiny children mixed with mumblings
from Lizzie, and the noise of chairs and stools being roughly shoved
about on the floor.
A rap on the door brings Lizzie, crippled up since she was twelve years
of age, hobbling to the door. Taking her walking stick, she lifts the
latch gently and the door opens slightly. A gray head appears through
the crack of the door and Lizzie, peeping out from above her tiny rim
spectacles, immediately recognizes her visitor. She offers her usual
cheerful greeting and begins hastily to push the large wooden tubs from
the door to make room for her visitor to enter, though it is with
unusual hesitancy that she invites her guest to come in on this
occasion.
Lizzie--Come in, Miss Davis. I feelin right smart dis mornin. How you
been keepin yourself? Miss Davis, I regrets you have to find things so
nasty up in here dis mornin, but all dis rainy weather got me obliged to
keep dese old tubs settin all bout de floor here to try en catch up de
water what drips through dem holes up dere. See, you twist your head up
dat way en you can tell daylight through all dem cracks. Dat how I know
when it bright enough to start to stir myself on a mornin.
Yes'um, I tell Miss Heddie here de other day dat I had promise you I was
gwine study up some of dem old time songs to give you de next time you
come back. Miss Heddie, she lookin to a right sharp age, I say. Yes'um,
she been here a time, honey. I tell her to be gettin her dogs together
cause I was sho gwine point her out to you de next time I see you.
I tell you, Miss Davis, I got a 'sponsibility put on me here to look
after all dese chillun. Yes'um, it sho a 'sponsibility cause I think
dere five of dem dere, en it de truth in de Lord sight, dey has me
settin up so straight to keep a eye on dem dat I can' never settle my
mind on nothin. Dey won' let me keep nothin clean. Ain' no use to scrub
none, I say. You see, cripple up like I is, I ain' able to get no work
off nowhe' en I keeps dem while dey parents work out. Dey mammas have a
job to cook out en dey brings dem here bout 6 o'clock in de mornin for
me to see after till dey get home in de afternoon. Cose dey helps me
along, but it takes what little dey give me to keep dem chillun warm
cause I has to try en keep a fire gwine, dey be so little. Dere Bertha
Lee en Joseph, dey start gwine to school dis year en I has to see dey
gets fix decent en march dem off to school every mornin. Dem other three
dere, dey name: Possum en June en Alfred. Ain' but just one girl en
dat--
(Lizzie's attention turns to June, who comes in crying from the back
yard, where all the children went to play during Lizzie's conversation
with her visitor).
Lizzie--What de matter wid you, June?
June--Aun' Izzie, Possum knock me wid de ax.
Lizzie--Great King! What a peculiar thing to hit you wid. How-come he to
do dat?
June--He was bustin up dem stick out dere side de wood pile.
Lizzie--Oh, well, you just go en butt up on de ax. Dat ain' no fault of
he own den. Clean up dat face en gwine on way from here.
(June, crying to himself, remains seated on the little stool).
Lizzie--Let me see now, Miss Davis, I tryin to get some of dem old time
songs together to turn for you what you been axin me bout de other time
you come here. Yes'um, I tryin to blow my dogs--
(Possum enters the room).
Possum--Aun' Izzie, I was bustin up dem splinters dat my daddy brung for
you to cook wid en June come en set right under de ax.
Lizzie--Um-huh, ain' I tell you so? Whe' de ax, Possum? Fetch it here en
put it in de corner. Ain' none of you had no business wid dat ax nohow.
Ain' I tell you to mind your way round dat ax?
(Possum runs back out in the yard).
Lizzie--Like I tellin you, Miss Davis, if de people had a song in de old
days, dey would put it down on a long strip called a ballad, but honey,
I been through de hackles en I can' think of nothin like I used to
could. Is anybody sing dis one for you, Miss Davis? It a old one, too,
cause I used to hear--
(Alfred comes in to tell his tale).
Alfred--Aun' Izzie, June set on Possum's pile of splinters dat he was
makin en Possum let de ax fall right on June's head.
Lizzie--Dey is cases, Miss Davis. I tellin you, dese chillun just gets
everything off my mind. Most makes me forget to eat sometimes. Dere Miss
Julia Woodberry, poor creature, she been down mighty sick en I ain' been
able to go en see bout her no time. Don' know what ailin her cause I
don' gets bout nowhe' much. No, mam, dese chillun don' have no manners
to go visitin en I can' left dem here widout nobody to mind bout dat dey
don' run--
Joseph--Aun' Izzie, I ain' gwine wear no coat to school dis mornin.
Lizzie--Boy, is you crazy? What de matter wid you, ain' you know de
ground been white wid Jack Frost dis mornin? En you clean up dat nose
fore you get dere to school, too. You ain' say your ma send you here
widout no pocket rag to wipe your nose wid? You ma, she know better den
to 'spect me to hunt rags for you. Come here en let me fasten up dat
coat round de neck. You look like a turkey buzzard wid it gapin open
dat way. Whe' Bertha Lee? It time both you been in dat road gwine to
school dere.
(Bertha Lee and Joseph go out the door to leave for school).
Lizzie--Lord a mercy, Miss Davis, my mind just a windin. How dat song
turn what I had for you?
One for Paul,
En one for Sidas--
Lizzie--Joseph, how-come you ain' tell dese chillun good-bye?
Joseph--Good-bye Possum, good-bye June, good-bye Alfred.
Possum, June, Alfred--Good-bye Joseph.
Lizzie--Is you got dat one now, Miss Davis? What de next? Great
Jeruselum! Dem chillun done carry dat tune way wid dem. I can' turn dat
one to save my neck. Just can' come to de turn table as de old man would
say. (12 o'clock mill whistle blows, time teller for many colored people
of the community). Lord a mercy, what dat whistle say? It done come 12
o'clock en dat pot ain' thought bout to kick up none yet. I tell you,
honey, it sho a 'sponsibility I got put on me here to cook for all dese
chillun en see dey ration is cook mighty done, too, so as dey won' be
gwine round gruntin wid dey belly hurtin all de evenin.
(Lizzie begins to stir up the fire to make the pot boil and her visitor
decides to return later to hear the songs).
Date, February 7, 1938
II
It is a damp, chilly mornin about three weeks later, when Lizzie's
visitor returns to hear her sing old time songs. June, Bertha Lee, and
Alfred are playing in the street before the little house.
Visitor--Is Aun' Lizzie at home?
June, Alfred, Bertha Lee--Yes'um, she in dere. She in de house.
Visitor--You children better mind how you run about in all this damp
weather, it might make you sick.
June--Possum's got de chicken pox.
Alfred--Possum's got de chicken pox.
June--Me sick, too.
Bertha Lee--I got a cold.
Alfred--I sick, too.
Visitor--Poor little Possum. Is he sick much?
Alfred--Yes'um, he stay right in dat room dere. (Room next to Lizzie's
room with a separate front door).
Bertha Lee--He mamma had de chicken pox first en den Possum, he took
down wid it.
June--Dere he now! Dere Possum! (Possum appears from around the corner
of the house with both hands full of cold fish).
(Alfred goes to Lizzie's door to tell her that she has a visitor)
Alfred--Aun' Izzie, somebody out dere wanna see you.
Lizzie--Holy Moses! Who dat out dere? Boy, you ain' tellin me no story,
is you? Mind you now, you tell me a story en I'll whip de grease out
you.
Bertha Lee--Aun' Izzie, ain' nobody but Miss Davis out dere.
(Lizzie hobbles to the door on her stick).
Lizzie--How you is, Miss Davis? I ain' much to speak bout dis mornin. I
tell you de truth, Miss Davis, dese chillun keeps me so worried up dat I
don' know whe' half my knowin gone, I say. Great Lord a mercy, dere
Possum out dere in de air now en he been puny, too.
Visitor--The children tell me Possum has the chicken pox.
Lizzie--No'um, he ain' got no chicken pox, Miss Davis. Dey thought he
had it cause he mamma been ailin dat way, but I don' see nothin de
matter wid him 'cept what wrong wid he mouth. Possum, stand back dere
way from Miss Davis, I say. Yes'um, he been sorta puny like dis here
last week. He mamma must been feed him too much en broke he mouth out
dat--
June--Miss Davis, I know how to spell my name.
Bertha Lee--I know how to spell my name, too. Me likes to go to school.
Visitor--Oh, I think it is nice to like to go to school. What do you do
at school?
June--Pull off your hat.
Bertha Lee--Us writes.
Visitor--Lizzie, how about those old time songs you promised to study up
for me? You ought to have a mind running over with them by this time.
Lizzie--Lord, Lord, honey, I had study up a heap of dem old tunes here
de other day, but I tellin you de truth, Miss Davis, dese chillun got me
so crazy till nothin won stick--
(Willie, age 10, comes over to play with the children and begins to
whistle.).
Lizzie--Willie, ain' you know it ill manners to whistle in anybody
house? Dere now, it impolite to walk by anybody house whistlin, too. You
is too big a boy for dat. Ain' gwine stand for you learnin dese chillun
no such manners for me to beat it out dem. No, boy, mind yourself way
from here now, I got to hunt up dat tune for Miss Davis. Yes'um, I got
one of dem old tune poppin now. Let me see--Great Happy! Dat pot done
gwine out all my sparks. (Lizzie rushes in the house to look after a pot
that she hears boilin over on the fire).
June--Bertha Lee, de lady don' know whe' us sleeps, do she?
Bertha Lee--Dere us house over dere.
(Bertha Lee gets up to point the house out and June immediately slides
into her seat on the bench next to the visitor).
Bertha Lee--Move way, June.
June--No, dis place whe' I been.
Bertha Lee--June, go further, I say.
June--No, Bertha Lee, dis whe' I been.
Bertha Lee--No, go further. (June holds his place) I go tell Aun' Izzie
den.
Visitor--Tell Lizzie I'm waitin to hear that tune she promised to sing.
Bertha Lee--Aun' Izzie, June settin in my place.
Lizzie--Fetch yourself on back out dere now, Bertha Lee, en settle your
own scrap. Ain' you shame of yourself en you bigger den June, too? Go
way from here, I say. I ain' got no time to monkey up wid you. I got to
get dese collards boilin hard, else dey ain' gwine get done time you
chillun start puffin for your dinner. Go way, I tell you. Miss Davis, I
comin toreckly.
(Bertha Lee returns to the porch quietly and takes her place on the
opposite side of the visitor, while June clings to his place).
June--Miss Davis, does you know Mr. Rembert?
Visitor--Is he your father?
Bertha Lee and June--No, he ain' us daddy.
June--Mr. Rembert, he bought me everything I got. He shoe horses. Don'
you know him now?
Bertha Lee--He bought June's sweater, but dem my overalls he got on.
June--Dem dere pretty buttons you got on you, Miss Davis.
Bertha Lee--Sho is, en dem little chain dere.
June--Me got a sweater just like her coat.
Bertha Lee--Ain' just like it.
June--It most like it.
Bertha Lee--No, it ain' cause dis here wool.
(Lizzie returns to the porch and sits on a little stool near her door).
Lizzie--Lord, Miss Davis, dat tune done left me. Now, de next time dat I
get a tune in my mind. I gwine sho get somebody to place it for me. It
de Lord truth, my mind gwine just so wid so much of chillun worryations
till--
June--Me can sing.
Possum--Aun' Izzie, I ain' got nothin to eat.
(Lizzie returns to her room again to stir up the fire and get Possum
some bread).
Bertha Lee--Sing den, June.
June--Un-uh, I can'. Aun' Izzie might hear me.
Bertha Lee--I gwine sing den.
June--
"I sees de lighthouse--amen,
I sees de lighthouse--amen,
I sees de lighthouse--amen."
(Lizzie and Possum return to porch. Possum has three muffins).
Lizzie--Clean up your nose dere, Alfred. Miss Davis, I ready. Sho got a
mind to turn dat tune dis----
Alfred--Possum wouldn' fetch me no bread, Aun' Izzie.
Lizzie--Dere dey go again, Miss Davis. No, you can' have none of
Possum's bread. Gwine on in dere en catch you a piece out your own pan.
You eat up Possum's bread en den he'll be de one howlin bout he ain' got
none.
(Alfred goes in the room and comes back with a biscuit).
Lizzie--I pretty certain I ready now, Miss Davis. Let dem all get dey
belly full en den dey head won' be turnin so sharp. Dat how-come I
tries--
Possum--Aun' Izzie, Alfred eatin June's bread.
Lizzie--Alfred, look here, boy, you know dat ain' none of your bread.
You sho gwine get a lickin for dat. (Lizzie slaps him). Your ma, she
ain' never left nothin but corn hoecake in your pan since you been born
en you know dat, too. Dem chillun carries me in de clock sometimes, Miss
Davis. Dis one en dat one callin me en de Lord help me, I forgets what I
doin--Clean up dat nose dere, boy.
June--My nose clean.
Lizzie--Possum know I talkin to him. Get on in dere en tell Miss Mammie
to give you a pocket rag, Possum. (Miss Mammie is Possum's aunt who came
to spend the day with them).
Bertha Lee--
"Peter Rabbit, Ha! Ha! Ha!
Make Your Ears Go, Flop! Flop! Flop!"
Lizzie--I has to ax you to bear wid me, Miss Davis. I sorry you come
here on a dead shot en ain' gettin no birds. Lord knows, I tryin to get
my mind--
June--Oo, Aun' Izzie, Joseph been cuttin out Willie's book.
(Lizzie's attention is attracted to Willie, who looks worried about his
torn book.)
Lizzie--Great mercy, boy, you ought to have a pain in de chest. Look,
you settin dere wid your bosom wide open. Fasten up your neck dere, I
say.--Possum, come here, is you do like I tell you? Is you ax Miss
Mammie for somethin to clean up dat nose wid?
Possum--Yes'um.
Lizzie--Look out now, I'll whip you for tellin a story. Whe' de rag? No,
you ain' ax her neither. Gwine on en clean up dat nose fore I wear you
out.
(Possum goes around corner of house).
Lizzie--Help me Lord not to forget it dis time. I sho got dat tune----
June--Aun' Izzie, Aun' Izzie, Possum fall in de tub of water what settin
under de pump.
(Possum appears from around the corner of the house just at that moment
drenched and almost frozen).
Lizzie--Great Lord a mercy! Possum, you looks like a drowned possum sho
enough. Why ain' you do like I tell you to do? You know I don' never
allow you chillun ramblin round dat pump tub no time. Ain' nobody want
to drink out no tub you wash your snotty nose in. Fetch yourself in dere
to de fire en dry yourself fore you is catch a death of cold. Gwine on,
boy. Don' stand dere en watch me like a frizzle chicken. Dere Mr. John
Fortune comin now. I gwine tell him to catch Possum en cook him up.
Possum--I gwine run.
Lizzie--You say you gwine run?
Possum--No'um, I ain' say I gwine run.
Lizzie--Mind you now, Possum, you know what I tell you bout a
story-teller.
Mammie--Miss Lizzie, I just don' believe he know right from wrong.
Lizzie--Well, I gwine learn him den. Ain' nothin I despises worser den a
story-teller. (Lizzie slaps Possum on the shoulder several times and
sends him in the house to dry, shivering from both cold and fear.).
Lizzie--Miss Davis, Mr. John Fortune helps me out wonderfully wid dese
chillun. Say, when dey bad, he gwine cook dem up en eat dem. Yes, mam, I
tellin de truth, honey, dese chillun keeps me settin here listenin wid
all my ears en lookin wid all my eyes, but dey is right sorta
entertainin like. Yes'um, dey got so much of sense till dey done took
what little I is had.
(Alfred comes running in and leans up on Lizzie).
Lizzie--Clean up dat snotty nose, Alfred. You ought to been name Snotty
wid your mouth all de time lookin like you ain' hear tell of no pocket
rag. Move way from dere, June. Don' blow your nose settin side Miss
Davis.
Date, February 10, 1938
III
It is three days later. Lizzie is sitting on her little porch enjoying
the warm sunshine of a bright February day. The children have gone just
across the street to play on the sidewalk and while Lizzie keeps a
watchful eye on them, she is trying once more to call back to her mind
some of the old time songs that she used to sing in her early days. Her
visitor sits on a bench nearby ready to make notes of these old songs as
she sings them. Lizzie's attention is not only distracted by the
children at intervals but also by different ones of her friends
constantly passing along the street in front of the small home.
Lizzie--Lord, Miss Davis, look like everything a hustlin dis mornin.
Yes'um, dis here Monday mornin en everybody is a bustlin gwine to see
bout dey business. Seems like everything just gwine on, just gwine on. I
tell you de truth, Miss Davis, I studied so hard bout dem songs de other
night, I beg de Massa to show me de light en he hop me to recollect dis
one for you. See, when you gets to de age I is, you is foolish--
(Joseph runs across the street to tell Lizzie something).
Joseph--Aun' Izzie, Possum teachin June to hit Jerry.
Lizzie--Uh-huh, I gwine sho beat him, too. (Lizzie turns to her visitor)
Possum, he teachin June to knock dat little one wid de speckle coat on.
Visitor--Is he another child that you are taking care of?
Lizzie--No'um, he grandma raise him en de poor little creature, he don'
have nobody to play wid. Look like nobody don' care when he come or whe'
he go. I say, I tries to collect mine up en take care of dem cause it
dis way, if you don' take time en learn chillun, dey old en dey ain'
old; dey fool en dey ain' fool. Yes'um, I tryin to drill dem, Miss
Davis, but it does take time en a little whip, too. Has to punish dem
right smart sometimes. I tellin you, dem chillun sho a 'sponsibility.
Dem what put all dem gray hair up dere on my topknot. I tell dis one en
dat one to set to a certain place till I say to get up en den I'll get
my studyin on somethin else en de child, he'll be out yonder--
(Heddie Davis, age 72, a neighbor of Lizzies, comes over to join in the
conversation).
Lizzie--Here come de hoss (horse). Come in, Miss Heddie. Miss Davis
wants us to sing one of dem old back tunes dis mornin.
Heddie--Well, I is studied up one tune what I been hear de old people
sing when I wasn' nothin much more den a puppy--Lord a mercy, Miss
Lizzie, dere dem people comin from de trial. Look, dere dey fetchin dat
girl to Dr. Graham now. En my Lord, got de poor child's head all wrapped
up dat way. Dat man, he ought to have he head plucked. He know better
den to cut dat child so close de senses. Don' know what de matter wid de
people nohow.