*Interview with Andy Marion, 92 years*
--_W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C._
"Yes, sir, I was born befo' de war 'tween de white folks, on account of
us niggers. They was powerful concerned 'bout it and we was not. My
mammy always said she found me a babe in de chinkapin bushes, but you
can leave dat out if you want to. They say I comed into de world in
1844. I sho' was a good plow-hand when de first gun was fired at some
place down near Charleston; I think it was at Sumter. They say I was
born where Marster Eugene Mobley lives now, but it b'longed to Marster
William Brice, when I was born in 1844, bless God! My father named Aleck
and my mother Mary. Us colored folks didn't git names 'til after de war.
I took my name, when I went up to de 'lection box first time to vote for
Gen. Grant for president. My father was from old Virginia, my mother
from South Carolina. Our plantation had seventy-two slaves living about
here and yon in log houses wid dirt floors. They bored auger holes in de
sides of de room, stuck end of poles in dese holes. De pole reach' out
into de room and rested on wooden blocks sort of hollowed out on top;
then some slats of pine finish up de contraption bed. Quilts was spread
on dis which was all de bed we had.
"I been married four times since de war and I'm here to tell you dat a
nigger had a hell of a time gittin' a wife durin' slavery. If you didn't
see one on de place to suit you and chances was you didn't suit them,
why what could you do? Couldn't spring up, grab a mule and ride to de
next plantation widout a written pass. S'pose you gits your marster's
consent to go? Look here, de gal's marster got to consent, de gal got to
consent, de gal's daddy got to consent, de gal's mammy got to consent.
It was a hell of a way!
"I helped my marster 'mong de bullets out along de Mississippi River,
but I's glad we didn't whip them 'cause I's had four wives and dere is
de las' one settin' right over dere, a fixin' you some strawberries and
a shakin' her belly at me laughin' lak Sarah in de Bible and thinkin' of
namin' de child of her old age, 'Isaac'.
"What kind of work I do in slavery? I was de carriage driver. Us had a
fine carriage and two high-steppin' horses, Frank and Charlie. I used to
hear lots of things from behin' me, while drivin' de folks and saying
nothin'. Money, did you say? We had no use for money. Kind words from de
white folks was money 'nough for me. We just worked hard, eat more and
slep' well. We got meat, hominy, and corn meal on Mondays and wheat
bread, lard and 'lasses on Saturdays. No time for fishin' or huntin'.
Married slaves was encouraged to have their own gardens. Our clothes was
of wool in de winter from our own sheep, and cotton in de summer from
our own fields. Had many spinnin' wheels and cards. Miss Mary, de
mistress, saw to dis part.
"Our white folks was Psalm-singin', old style Presbyterians. You
daresn't whistle a hymn on Sunday which they called Sabbath. Just as
soon as I got free, I jined de Baptist church, hard shell. Brother
Wright is my preacher at Blackstock now. My marster, William Brice, his
wife, Miss Mary, his son, Christie, and his daughters, Miss Lizzie, Miss
Kitty and Miss Mary, was de ones I drove de carriage to Hopewell church
on Sunday for. Dat church is flourishin' now. De pastor of dat church,
Rev. John White, befo' he died I waited on him sixteen years, and in his
will, he give me dis house and forty acres around it for my life. Dat's
what I calls religion. My mistress was a angel, good, and big hearted. I
lay my head in her lap many a time. Marster had a overseer twice. They
was poor white trash, not as good as de niggers. Miss Mary run them both
off and told marster what she couldn't see to when he was away, she'd
pick out one of de slaves to see after. All de overseer done was to wake
us up, see to feeding stock and act biggity. Us slaves worked from sun
up to sun down.
"Sometime befo' de war, my marster sold out and bought a big place in
Mississippi. On de way dere, de slaves (grown) was chained together. Yes
sir, de chain was 'round de necks. We went by wagons and steamboats
sometimes. We stayed in Mississippi 'til durin' de war we refugeed back
to South Carolina. Dat's when de Yankees got possession of de river. We
settled near New Hope church. It was in dis church dat I saw sprinkling
wid a kind a brush when baptizin' de chillun. Over at Hopewell, you had
to have a brass trinket (token) to show befo' you could take Communion
of de Saints. We was always compelled to go to church. Boss like for de
slaves to sing while workin'. We had a jack-leg slave preacher who'd
hist de tunes. Some was spirituals; my wife and me will sing you one
now, 'Got to Fight de Devil when You Come Up out de Water'." (This was
well rendered by the old man and his wife). "Nothing stopped for slave
funerals. De truth is, I can't 'member any dyin' on our places. None of
our slaves ever run away.
"A pass was lak dis, on it was yo' name, what house you goin' to and de
hour expected back. If you was cotched any other house, pataroller whip
you sho'. Always give us Chris'mus Day. Dere was a number of dances dis
time of de year. Got passes to different plantations. Dere would be corn
shuckin' different places. Not much games or playin' in our set. Wife,
let's sing another spiritual. Come on Janie, let's sing 'You Got to Lay
Your Burden 'pon de Lord'.
"Sickness of slaves was quickly 'tended to by de doctor. 'Member
gallopin' for old Doctor Douglas many a time.
"I went to de war from Mississippi as body guard for my marstar. I was
close to de fightin' and see it. If it was hell then, it must be
tarnation now wid all dese air-planes flyin' roun' droppin' booms on old
people lak Janie and me, over dere fixin' them strawberries. De good
Lord, save us from a war over Blackstock and my garden out dere!
"I was free three years befo' I knowed it. Worked along just de same.
One day we was in de field on Mr. Chris Brice's place. Men come along on
big, black horse, tail platted and tied wid a red ribbon. Stopped, waved
his hands and shouted 'You is free, all of you. Go anywhere you wants
to'. Us quit right then and acted de fool. We ought to have gone to de
white folks 'bout it. What did de Yankees do when they come? They tied
me up by my two thumbs, try to make me tell where I hided de money and
gold watch and silver, but I swore I didn't know. Did I hide it? Yes, so
good it was two years befo' I could find it again. I put everything in a
keg, went into de woods, spaded the dirt by a pine stump, put de keg in,
covered it up wid leaves and left it. Sometime after, we looked for it,
but couldn't find it. Two years later, I had a mule and cart in de
woods. De mule's foot sunk down into de old stump hole and dere was de
keg, de money, de silver and de watch. Marster was mighty glad dat I was
a faithful servant, and not a liar and a thief lak he thought I was. My
marstar was not a Ku Klux. They killed some obstreppary (obstreperous)
niggers in them times.
"I first married Sara Halsey in 1875, she had three chillun. She died.
Ten months after, I took Harriett Daniels; she had three chillun, then
she died. Eight months after, I married Millie Gladden, no chillun. She
lived seventeen years, died, and ten years ago I fooled dat good-lookin'
Jane a-settin' over dere. She was a widow then, she was de widow Arthur.
She was a Caldwell, when she was born. We have no chillun but she is
still lookin' for a blessin'." (Here the nonagenarian broke forth in a
quiet chuckle).
"There wasn't as much sin in slavery time, not as much sufferin', not as
much sickness and eye-sore poverty. Dere was no peniten'try and chain
gangs 'cause dere was no need for them. Cuttin' out de brutishness on
some places, it was a good thing for de race."