Walker, Manda 170
Walker, Med 174
Waring, Daniel 181
Washington, Nancy 184
Watson, Charley 188
White, Dave 191, 194
White, Tena 196
Williams, Bill 199
Williams, Jesse 202
Williams, Mary 206
Williams, Willis 208
Wilson, Emoline 213, 215
Wilson, Jane 216
Woodberry, Genia 218
Woodberry, Julia 227, 232, 237, 242
Woods, George 247
Woodward, Aleck 253
Woodward, Mary 257
Worth, Pauline 260
Wright, Daphney 266
Young, Bill 270
Young, Bob 273
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=MARY RAINES=
=_EX-SLAVE 99 YEARS OLD._=
Mary Raines is the oldest living person, white or black, in Fairfield
County. If she survives until next December, she will have attained her
century of years. She lives with her widowed daughter, Fannie
McCollough, fifty-seven years old, and a son, Joe Raines, aged 76 years.
They rent a two-room frame house, on lands of Mrs. Sallie Wylie, Chester
County, S.C. Joe, the son, is a day laborer on nearby farms. Fannie
cooks for Mrs. W.T. Raines. Old Mother Mary has been receiving a county
pension of $5.00 per month for several years.
"How old would Marse William Woodward be if he hadn't died befo' I gwine
to die? A hundred and twenty, you say? Well, dat's 'bout de way I
figured my age. Him was a nephew of Marse Ed, de fust Marse Ed P.
Mobley. Him say dat when him 'come twenty-one, old marster give him a
birthday dinner and 'vite folks to it. Marse Riley McMaster, from
Winnsboro, S.C., was dere a flyin' 'round my young mistress, Miss
Harriett. Marse Riley was a young doctor, ridin' 'round wid saddlebags.
While they was all settin' down to dinner, de young doctor have to git
up in a hurry to go see my mammy. Left his plate piled up wid turkey,
nice dressin', rice and gravy, candy 'tatoes, and apple marmalade and
cake. De wine 'canter was a settin' on de 'hogany sideboard. All dis him
leave to go see mammy, who was a squallin' lak a passle of patarollers
(patrollers) was a layin' de lash on her. When de young doctor go and
come back, him say as how my mammy done got all right and her have a gal
baby. Then him say dat Marse Ed, his uncle, took him to de quarter where
mammy was, look me all over and say: 'Ain't her a good one? Must weigh
ten pounds. I's gwine to name dis baby for your mama, William. Tell her
I name her, Mary, for her, but I 'spects some folks'll call her 'Polly',
just lak they call your mama, 'Polly'.
"I was a strong gal, went to de field when I's twelve years old, hoe my
acre of cotton, 'long wid de grown ones, and pick my 150 pounds of
cotton. As I wasn't scared of de cows, they set me to milkin' and
churnin'. Bless God! Dat took me out of de field. House servants 'bove
de field servants, them days. If you didn't git better rations and
things to eat in de house, it was your own fault, I tells you! You just
have to help de chillun to take things and while you doin' dat for them,
you take things for yourself. I never call it stealin'. I just call it
takin' de jams, de jellies, de biscuits, de butter and de 'lasses dat I
have to reach up and steal for them chillun to hide 'way in deir little
stomaches, and me, in my big belly.
"When Joe drive de young doctor, Marse Riley, out to see Mass Harriett,
while Marse Riley doin' his courtin' in de parlor, Joe was doin' his
courtin' in de kitchen. Joe was as smart as de nex' one. Us made faster
time than them in de parlor; us beat them to de marriage. Marse Riley
call it de altar, but Joe always laugh and say it was de halter. Many is
de time I have been home wid them sixteen chillun, when him was a
gallavantin' 'round, and I wished I had a got a real halter on dat
husband of mine.
"I b'longs to de Gladden's Grove African Methodist 'Piscopal Church. Too
old to shout but de great day is comin', when I'll shout and sing to de
music of dat harp of 10,000 strings up yonder. Oh! Won't dat be a joyful
day, when dese old ailin' bones gonna rise again." (Then the old darkey
became suffused in tears, lapsed into a silence and apathy, from which
she couldn't be aroused. Finally she slumbered and snored. It would have
been unkind to question her further.)
=Project 935=
=Hattie Mobley=
=Richland County=
=FRANK RANGE=
=CIVIL WAR SERVANT and HERO=
At the age of one hundred and three, Frank Range is a familiar figure on
the streets of Greenville, talking freely of pre-Civil and Civil War
days, and the part he played in the war.
Frank, the oldest of nine children, was born of slave parents, Lenard
and Elizabeth Herbert, on the plantation of Mr. Jim Boler, Newberry,
South Carolina. He was sold several times, and is known by the name of
one of his owners, John Range.
During the Civil War his master, Mr. Jim Herbert, carried him to the war
as a cook, and when necessary, he was pressed into service, throwing up
breast-works; and while he was engaged in this work, at Richmond Va. a
terrific bombardment of their lines was made, and a part of their
breast-works was crushed in, and his master buried beneath it. Frantic
with fear for the safety of his master, Frank began to move the dirt
away; finally he was able to drag him to safety. Though shot and shell
were falling all around him, he came out unscathed.
Frank Range returned to Newberry at the close of the war, after which he
moved to Greenville County in 1901, and into the city in 1935. He is
never happier than when, in the center of a group of willing hearers, he
is reciting in a sing-song tone the different periods of his life.
He attributes his longevity to the fact that he has never tasted
whiskey, never chewed tobacco; never had a fight; toothache and
headache are unknown to him; the service of a physician has never been
needed; he does not know one playing card from another. He can walk five
or more miles with seeming ease; is jovial and humorous.
He receives a state pension of twenty five dollars annually. His place
of residence is 101 Hudson St. Greenville, S.C.
References;
Mr. Guy A. Gullick,
Probate Judge, Greenville County.
Frank Range (information given concerning himself)
101 Hudson St. Greenville S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=June 15, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I was born in 1835 in Lexington County, S.C. I know I was 12 years old
de last year of de war. I belonged to John Hiller in Lexington County,
near Columbia, S.C. Old Marse Hiller was strict to his slaves, wasn't
mean, but often whipped 'em. I thought it was all right then. When de
Yankees come through burning, killing and stealing stock, I was in
marse's yard. Dey come up whar de boss was standing, told him dere was
going to be a battle, grabbed him and hit him. Dey burned his house,
stole de stock, and one Yankee stuck his sword to my breast and said fer
me to come wid him or he would kill me. O' course I went along. Dey took
me as fer as Broad River, on t'other side o' Chapin; then turned me
loose and told me to run fast or they would shoot me. I went fast and
found my way back home by watching de sun. Dey told me to not go back to
dat old man.
"De slaves never learnt to read and write. If any o' dem was caught
trying to learn to read or write, dey was whipped bad. I kotched on to
what de white chilluns said, and learnt by myself to say de alphabet.
"We went to de white churches atter de war, and set in de gallery. Den
de niggers set up a 'brush harbor' church fer demselves. We went to
school at de church, and atter school was out in de atternoon, we had
preaching.
"Befo' freedom come, de patrollers was strong dere, and whipped any
niggers dey kotched out without a pass; wouldn't let dem go to church
without a pass.
"Lots of hunting round dere, dey hunted rabbits, squirrels, foxes and
'possums. Dey fished like dey do now.
"De white folks had old brick ovens away from de house, and wide
fireplaces in de kitchens. Dey cooked many things on Saturdays, to last
several days. Saturday afternoons, we had off to catch up on washing and
other things we wanted to do.
"I 'member de Ku Klux and de Red Shirts, but don't 'member anything dey
did dere.
"We had corn-shuckings and cotton pickings, when de white people would
have everybody to come and help. Us niggers would help. Dey had big
suppers afterwards.
"We had plenty to eat from de garden of de boss, a big garden dat
furnished all de slaves. Den de boss killed hogs and had other things to
eat. Most o' de things raised in de garden, was potatoes, turnips,
collards and peas.
"Some of us had witches. One old woman was a witch, and she rode me one
night. I couldn't get up one night, had a ketching of my breath and
couldn't rise up. She held me down. In dem days, was lots o' fevers with
de folks. Dey cured 'em and other sickness wid teas from root herbs and
barks.
"Abraham Lincoln was a good man. He said you folks ought to let dem
niggers loose and let dem go to work. He come wid his two men, Grant and
Sherman, and captured de slave bosses. Jeff Davis was one o' de
forerunners of de war. Don't know much about him. Booker T. Washington
is a good man. Think he is in office fer a good purpose. I been married
four times, Was young man when I married first time. Gussie Gallman, my
last wife, is living wid me."
Source: Sam Rawls (84), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/9/37)
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Oct. 13, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I live wid my fourth wife and she is much younger dan me. I am unable
to work and have to stay in bed lots of de time. My wife works at odd
jobs, like washing, ironing and cooking. We rent a two-room house from
Miss Ann Ruff.
"I belonged to John Hiller. He was a good master but he worked his
slaves hard. Dat was in Lexington County.
"I heard dat Gen. Grant said de slaves ought to get 40 acres of land and
a mule so dey could go to work; but dey never got any dat I knows of.
Atter Freedom dey worked as wage earners and share-croppers. Some went
to other farms to get jobs. Dat's about what dey do now, but some of dem
saved a little money and bought farms and some started little businesses
of deir own.
"De Ku Klux didn't have much influence wid de slaves or ex-slaves. As
soon as de war broke, dey went riding up and down de public roads to
catch and beat niggers. My brother run off when dey got atter him. He
went to Orangeburg County and stayed down dere.
"I voted twice den, once at Prosperity and again at Newberry. I was a
Republican, of course. Some of de Niggers of dis state was elected to
office, but dey was not my kinfolks nor special friends. I think niggers
ought to vote so dey could vote fer good white folks; and dey ought to
run fer office if dey could be elected by good white folks.
"I was sixteen years old when de Yankees come through dis country. Dey
caught me in de road and made me go wid dem to Broad River where dey
camped one night. Den dey turned me loose and told me to git. I run as
fast as I could. I followed de setting sun, de road running towards de
sun all de time, and got home about night.
"Since freedom is come de niggers have worked mostly on farms as
share-croppers; some as renters wid deir own crops to raise.
"De present generation of niggers ain't got much sense. Dey work when
dey want to, and have deir own way about it. De old niggers was learned
to work when dey was little.
"I don't know nothing about de Nat Turner Rebellion. I never know'd but
one old nigger dat come from Virginia, old Ellen Abner. She lived below
Prosperity fer a long time, in de Stoney Hills.
"Yes sir, I tries to live right and git along wid everybody."
Source: Sam Rawls (80), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/23/37.
=Project 1885 -1-=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=District #4=
=May 31, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Martha Ritter=
=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=
"I was born on Capt. John P. Kinard's place. My mammy and pa was Lucy
and Eph Kinard who belonged to Marse Kinard. Marse Kinard was good to
his slaves--didn't whip them much. He whipped me a little. When I was a
little girl I slept in the big house in the room with my mistress and
her husband, and waited on them. I worked when I got old enough, in the
field, and anywhere around. When I wouldn't work good, my mammy whipped
me most.
"I 'member the folks cooked in skillets over an old fireplace.
"After the war was over and freedom come we stayed on with Capt. Kinard,
'till I married and then went over to Dock Renwick's place where my
husband worked. I married Tom Renwick. We went to the church of the
colored folks after the war, and had preachings in mornings and evenings
and at night, too. We didn't have no nigger schools, and we didn't learn
to read and write.
"The white folks had corn-shuckings, cotton pickings at night, when the
mistress would fix a big dinner for all working."
SOURCE: Ellen Renwick (79), RFD, Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: Mr. G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St.,
Newberry, S.C.
=Project 1885 -1-=
=District #4=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=June 7, 1937=
=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=
"I was born in Spartanburg County, S.C., near Glenn Springs. I can't
'member slavery or de war, but my ma and pa who was Green Foster and his
wife, Mary Posey Foster, always said I was a big gal when the war
stopped, when freedom come.
"We belonged to Seth Posey who had a big farm there. He was a good man,
but sure made us work. I worked in the fields when I was small, hoed and
picked cotton, hoed corn. They didn't give us no money for it. All we
got was a place to sleep and a little to eat. The big man had a good
garden and give us something from it. He raised loads of hogs, to eat
and to sell. He sold lots of them. The young fellows hunted rabbits,
possums, squirrels, wild turkeys, partridges, doves, and went fishing.
The Master's wife, Miss Nancy, was good to us. She had one son, William.
"Yes, I 'member my ma telling us 'bout the padder-rollers. They would
ride around, whipping niggers.
"My ma said her step-mother sold her. Sometimes they would take crowds
of slaves to Mississippi, taking away mothers from their infant babies,
leaving the babies on the floor.
"We always shuck corn and shell it at night, on moon-light nights we
pick cotton. On Saturday afternoons we had frolics, sometimes frolics
'till Sunday daylight, then sleep all day Sunday.
"When we got sick all the medicine we took was turpentine--dat would
cure almost any ailment. Some of the niggers used Sampson snake weed or
peach leaves boiled and tea drunk.
"I joined the church when I was 12 years old 'cause the other girls
joined. I think everybody ought to join a church to get their souls
right for heaven:
"I married Charley Rice in Spartanburg County, at a colored man's house,
named Henry Fox, by a colored preacher named 'Big Eye' Bill Rice. I had
four children, and have five grand-children. I have been living in
Newberry about 35 years or more. I worked as a wash-woman many years.
"When freedom come, my folks stayed on with Capt. Posey, and I washed
and ironed with them later when I was big enough. I done some cooking,
too. I could card and spin and make homespun dresses. My ma learned me.
"I don't know much about Abraham Lincoln and Jeff Davis but reckon dey
was good men. I never learned to read and write. Booker Washington, I
reckon, is a good man."
SOURCE: Anne Rice (75), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St.,
Newberry, S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Jan. 17, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"My people tells me a lot about when I was a lil' wee boy. I has a clear
mind and I allus has had one. My folks did not talk up people's age like
folks do dese days. Every place dat I be now, 'specially round dese
government folks, first thing dat dey wants to know is your name. Well,
dat is quite natu'al, but de very next question is how old you is. I
don't know, why it is, but dey sho do dat. As my folks never talked age,
it never worried me till jes' here of late. So dey says to me dat last
week I give one age to de man, and now I gives another. Soon I see'd dat
and I had to rest my mind on dat as well as de mind of de government
folks. So I settled it at 80 years old. Dat gives me respect from
everybody dat I sees. Den it is de truth, too, kaise I come along wid
everybody dat is done gone and died now. De few white folks what I was
contemperment (contemporary) wid, 'lows dat I is 80 and dey is dat, too.
"You know dat I does 'member when dat Sherman man went through here wid
dem awful mens he had. Dey 'lowed dat dey was gwine to Charlotte to git
back to Columbia. I never is heard of sech befo' or since. We lived at
old man Jerry Moss's in Yorkville, way back den. Yes sir, everyone said
Yorkville, den, but dey ain't never called Gaffney like dat. Stories
goes round 'bout Sherman shooting folks. Some say dat he shot a big rock
off'n de State House in Columbia. My Ma and my Pa, Henry and Charity
Rice, hid me wid dem when Sherman come along. Us never see'd him, Lawd
God no, us never wanted to see him.
"Folks allus crying hard times dese days, ain't no hard times now like
it was atter Sherman went through Yorkville. My ma and pa give me ash
cake and 'simmon beer to eat for days atter dat. White folks never had
no mo', not till a new crop was grow'd. Dat year de seasons was good and
gardens done well. Till den us nearly starved and we never had no easy
time gitting garden seed to plant, neither.
"Yes sir, if I's handy to locust I makes locust beer; den if I's handy
to 'simmons, why den I makes 'simmon beer. Now it's jes' for to pass de
time dat us does dat. But gwine back to de war; den it was for
necessity. Dese young'uns now don't know what hard times is. Dey all has
bread and meat and coffee, no matter how poor dey is. If dey had to live
for days and weeks on ash cake and 'simmon beer, as us did den, and work
and wait on a crop wid nothing but dat in deir bellies; den dey could
grumble hard times. I allus tells 'em to shut up when dey starts
anything like dat around me.
"When dat crop come along, we sho did fall in and save all us could for
de next year. Every kind of seed and pod dat grow'd we saved and dried
for next spring or fall planting. Atter folks is once had deir belly
aching and growling for victuals, dey ain't never gwine to throw no
rations and things away no mo'. Young folks is powerful wasteful, but if
something come along to break up deir good time like it did to us when
dat man Sherman held everything up, dey sho will take heed, and dey
won't grumble 'bout it neither, cause dey won't have no time to grumble.
"Things passes over quicker sometimes dan we figures out dat dey will.
Everything, no matter how good it be or how hard, passes over. Dey jes'
does like dat. So dem Yankees went on somewhars, I never know'd whar,
and everything round Yorkville was powerful relieved. Den de
Confederate soldiers started coming across Broad River. Befo' dey got
home, word had done got round dat our folks had surrendered; but dem
Yankees never fit (fought) us out--dey starved us out. If things had
been equal us would a-been fighting dem till dis day, dat us sho would.
I can still see dem soldiers of ours coming across Broad River, all
dirty, filthy, and lousy. Dey was most starved, and so poor and lanky.
And deir hosses was in de same fix. Men and hosses had know'd plenty
till dat Sherman come along, but most of dem never know'd plenty no
more. De men got over it better dan de hosses. Women folks cared for de
men. Dey brewed tea from sage leaves, sassafras root and other herb
teas. Nobody never had no money to fetch no medicine from de towns wid,
so dey made liniments and salves from de things dat grow'd around about
in de woods and gardens.
"I told you 'bout how small I was, but my brother, Jim Rice, went to
Charleston and helped to make dem breastworks down dar. I has never
see'd dem, but dem dat has says dat dey is still standing in good
conditions. Cose de Yankees tore up all dat dey could when dey got dar.
"Lots of rail fences was made back in dem days. Folks had a 'no fence'
law, dat meant dat everybody fenced in deir fields and let de stock run
free. Hogs got wild and turkeys was already wild. Sometimes bulls had to
be shot to keep dem from tearing up everything. But folks never fenced
in no pasture den. Dey put a rail fence all around de fields, and in dem
days de fields was never bigger dan ten or fifteen acres. Logs was
plentiful, and some niggers, called 'rail splitters', never done nothing
else but split rails to make fences.
"If I recollects right, Wade Hampton broke down fence laws in dis
country. I sho heard him talk in Yorkville. Dey writ about him in de
Yorkville Inquirer and dey still has dat paper over dar till now. De Red
Shirts come along and got Wade Hampton in. He scared de Yankees and
Carpetbaggers and all sech folks as dem away from our country. Dey went
back whar dey come from, I reckon.
"De Ku Klux was de terriblest folks dat ever crossed my path. Who dey
was I ain't never know'd, but dey took Alex Leech to Black's Ford on
Bullet Creek and killed him for being a radical. It was three weeks
befo' his folks got hold of his body.
"Dr. Bell's calves got out and did not come back for a long time. Mrs.
Bell fear'd dat dey was gitting wild, so she sent de milk girl down on
de creek to git dem calves. Dat girl had a time, but she found 'em and
drove 'em back to de lot. De calves give her a big chase and jumped de
creek near a big raft of logs dat had done washed up from freshets. All
over dem logs she saw possums, musrats and buzzards a-setting around.
She took her stick and drove dem all away, wid dem buzzards puking at
her. When dey had left, she see'd uncle Alex laying up dar half e't up
by all dem varmints.
"She know'd dat it must be him. When she left, dem buzzards went back to
deir perch. First thing dey done was to lap up deir own puke befo' dey
started on uncle Alex again. Yes sir, dat's de way turkey buzzards does.
Dey pukes on folks to keep dem away, and you can't go near kaise it be's
so nasty; but dem buzzards don't waste nothing. Little young buzzards
looks like down till dey gits over three days old. You can go to a
buzzard roost and see for yourself, but you sho better stay out'n de way
of de old buzzard's puke. Dey sets around de little ones and keeps
everything off by puking.
"Pacolet used to be called Buzzard Roost, kaise in de old days dey had a
rail outside de bar-room dat de drunks used to hang over and puke in a
gully. De buzzards would stay in dat gully and lap up dem drunkards'
puke. One night a old man went in a drunkard's sleep in de bar-room. De
bar tender shoved him out when he got ready to close, and he rolled up
against dis here rail dat I am telling you about. He 'lowed dat next
morning when he woke up, two buzzards was setting on his shirt front
eating up his puke. He said, 'You is too soon', and grabbed one by de
leg and wrung his head off. But befo' he could git its head wrung off it
had done puked his own puke back on him. He said dat was de nastiest
thing he ever got into, and dat he never drunk no more liquor. Dem days
is done past and gone, and it ain't nobody hardly knows Pacolet used to
be called Buzzard Roost.
"Lawd have mercy, white folks! Here I is done drapped plumb off'n my
subject; but a old man's mind will jes' run waa'ry at times. Me and Joe,
Alex's son, went to see de officer 'bout gitting Joe's pa buried. He
'lowed dat Alex's body was riddled wid bullets; so we took him and put
his bones and a little rotten flesh dat dem buzzards had left, in de box
we made, and fetched it to de site and buried him. Nobody ever seed Alex
but me, Joe, and dat gal dat went atter dem calves. Us took shovels and
throw'd his bones in de box. When we got de top nailed on, we was both
sick. Now, things like dat don't come to pass. I still thinks of de
awful days and creeps runs all over me yet.
"All my brothers, sisters, mother and father is done gone. And I is
looking to leave befo' a great while. I is trying every day to git
ready, Lawd. I been making ready for years. Smart mens tries to make you
live on, but dey can't git above death. Tain't no use."
Source: Jesse Rice (80), Littlejohn St., Gaffney, S.C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 1/8/38
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=June 15, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I'm living on Mr. Russel Emmitt's place. I never did nothing but drive
cows when I was a little boy growing up. Miss Cum and Miss Lizzie Rice
was Marse Alex's sisters. Marse Alex done died, and dey was my mistress.
Dey tuck and sold de plantation afo dey died, here 'bout twenty years
ago. Dat whar my ma found me and den she died.
"My grandparents, Jane and Peter Stevens, brung me up. I was a little
farm boy and driv cows fer de overseer, Jim Blalock. Miss Cum was really
Miss Ann. Miss Ann had a hundred niggers, herself, and Miss Lizzie had
might nigh dat many, asides dem what Marse Alex done left 'em. De
overseer try to act rough out o' Miss Ann's sight, and she find it out
and set him down a peg.
"Miss Jane have our shirts made on de looms. She let us wear long shirts
and go in our shirt tails, and us had to keep 'em clean, too, 'cause
Miss Jane never like no dirt around her. Miss Jane have charge of de
whole house and everything along wid it.
"Us had three hundred hogs to tend to, two hundred yellings and heifers,
and Lawdy knows how many sheep and goats. Us fed dem things and kept 'em
fat. When butchering time come, us stewed out the mostest lard and we
had enough side-meat to supply the plantation the year round. Our wheat
land was fertilized wid load after load of cotton seed. De wheat us
raised was de talk of de country side. 'Sides dat, dare was rye, oats
and barley, and I ain't said nothing 'bout de bottom corn dat laid in de
cribs from year to year.
"Our smokehouse was allus full o' things to eat, not only fer de white
folks but fer de darkies as well. And our barns carried feed fer de
cattle from harvest to harvest.
"De fattest of all de hosses, was Miss Ann's black saddle hoss called,
'Beauty'. Miss Ann wo' de longest side-saddle dress dat hung way down
below her feets. Somebody allus had to help her on and off Beauty, but
n'ary one of her brothers could out-ride Miss Ann."
Source: Phillip Rice (75), Kelton, S.C. RFD
Interviewed by: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (5/7/37)
=Project #1655=
=Stiles M. Scruggs=
=Columbia, S.C.=
=_THE POT OF GOLD._=
Martha Richardson, who tells this story, lives at 924 Senate Street,
Columbia, S.C. Her father was an Indian and her mother a mulatto. She
was born in Columbia in 1860 and was five years old, when General W.T.
Sherman's Federal troops captured and burned the city in 1865.
"When I gits big 'nough to pick up chips for de cook stove, we was
livin' in de rear of Daniel Gardner's home, on Main Street, and my mammy
was workin' as one of de cooks at de Columbia Hotel. De hotel was run by
Master Lowrance, where de Lorick & Lowrance store is now.
"My daddy, like de general run of Indians, love to hunt but de game not
bring much cash in. My mammy often give him some change (money) and he
not work much but he always good to mammy and she love him and not fuss
at him, much. I soon learn dat if it had not been for mammy, we wouldn't
a had much to eat and wear. We go 'long lak dat for a good while and my
mammy have friends 'nough dat she seldom had to ask for a job.
"De game was so scarce dat my daddy sometimes make a little money a
showin' people how to make Indian medicine, dat was good for many
complaints, how to cover deir houses, and how to kill deir hogs,
'cordin' to de moon. He tell us many times 'bout de great Catawba
Indians, who make all deir own medicines and kill bears and dress in
deir skins, after feastin' on deir flesh. He was a good talker.
"You know, I sees so much 'skimpin', to make ends meet at home, as we go
'long dis way, dat I has never married. My mammy tell me: 'Honey, you a
pretty child. You grow up and marry a fine, lovin' man lak your daddy,
and be happy.' I kinda smile but I thinks a lot. If my daddy had worked
and saved lak my mammy, we would be 'way head of what we is, and my
brudders say so, too. But we fond of our daddy, he so good lookin' and
all.
"What de most 'citin' thing I ever see? Well, I think de Red Shirt
campaign was. You never see so much talkin', fightin', and fussin' as
dat. You know de Yankees was still here and they not 'fraid, and de
Hampton folks was not 'fraid, so it was a case of knock down and drag
out most of de time, it seem to me. Long at de end, dere was two
governors; one was in de Wallace House and one in de Capitol. Men went
'bout town wid deir guns.
"Mammy keep busy cookin', nussin', and washin', and us chillun help. You
know I had two brudders older than me and a little baby brudder 'bout a
year old, when my mammy rent a small farm from Master Greenfield, down
at de end of Calhoun Street, near de Broad River. We plant cotton. I was
then eleven years old and my brudder was twelve and thirteen. My mammy
help us plant it befo' she go to work at de hotel.
"She was home washin', one day, when my brudders and me was choppin'
cotton. We chop 'til 'bout eleven o'clock dat mornin' and we say: 'When
we gits out de rows to de big oak tree we'll sit down and rest.' We
chillun lak each other and we joke and work fast 'til we comes to de end
of de rows and in de shade of de big oak. Then we sets down, dat is, my
oldest brudder and me, 'cause my young brudder was a little behind us in
his choppin'. As he near de finish, his hoe hit somethin' hard and it
ring. Ha rake de dirt 'way and keep diggin', light lak.
"What you doin', brudder?' I say. He say: 'Tryin' to find out what dis
is. It seem to be a pot lid.' Then we jump up and go to him and all of
us grabble dirt 'way and sho' 'nough it was a pot lid and it was on a
pot. We digs it out, thinkin' it would be a good thing to take home. It
was so heavy, it take us all to lift it out.
"It was no sooner out than we takes off de lid and we is sho' s'prised
at what we see. Big silver dollars lay all over de top. We takes two of
them and drops them together and they ring just lak we hear them ring on
de counters. Then we grabble in de pot for more. De silver went down
'bout two inches deep. Twenty dollar gold pieces run down 'bout four
inches or so and de whole bottom was full of big bundles of twenty
dollar greenbacks.
"We walks up to de house feelin' pretty big and my oldest brudder was
singin':
'Hawk and buzzard went to law,
Hawk come back wid a broken jaw.'
"Mammy say widout lookin' at us: 'What you all comin' to dinner so soon
for?' Then she looked up and see de pot and say: 'Land sakes, what you
all got?' Then we puts de big pot down in de middle of de floor and
takes off de lid, and mammy say: 'Oh! Let's see what we has!' She begin
to empty de pot and to count de money. She tell us to watch de door and
see dat nobody got in, 'cause she not at home!
"She say de money 'mount to $5,700, and she swear us not to say nothin'
'bout findin' it. She would see what she could find out 'bout it. Weeks
after dat, she tell us a big white friend tell her he hear a friend of
his buried some money and went to war widout tellin' anybody where it
was. Maybe he was killed and dat all we ever hear.
"My mammy kept it and we all work on just de same and she buy these two
lots on Senate Street. She build de two-story house here at 924, where
you sittin' now, and de cottage nex' door. She always had rent money
comin' in ever since. By and by she die, after my Indian pappy go 'way
and never come back. Then all de chillun die, 'ceptin' me.
"I am so happy dat I is able to spend my old days in a sort of ease,
after strugglin' most of my young life and gittin' no learnin' at
school, dat I sometimes sing my mammy's old song, runnin' somethin' lak
dis:
'Possum up de simmon tree
Sparrow on de ground
'Possum throw de 'simmons down
Sparrow shake them 'round'."
=Project#-1655=
=Phoebe Faucette=
=Hampton County=
=Approx. 416 words=
=MAMIE RILEY=
=Ex-Slave=
"Aunt Mamie's" hair is entirely white. She lives in a neat duplex brick
house with one of her husband's relatives, a younger woman who is a cook
for a well established family in Estill, S.C. When questioned about the
times before the war, she replied:
"Yes'm, I kin tell you 'bout slav'ry time, 'cause I is one myself. I
don' remember how old I is. But I remember when de Yankees come through
I bin 'bout so high. (She put her hand out about 3-1/2 feet from the
floor.) We lived on Mr. Henry Solomons' place--a big place. Mr. Henry
Solomons had a plenty of people--three rows of house, or four.
"When de Yankees come through Mr. Solomons' place I wuz right dere. We
wuz at our house in de street. I see it all. My ma tell me to run; but I
ain't think they'd hurt me. I see 'em come down de street--all of 'em on
horses. Oo--h, dey wuz a heap of 'em! I couldn't count 'em. My daddy run
to de woods--he an' de other men. Dey ran right to de graveyard. Too
mucha bush been dere. You couldn't see 'em. Stay in de woods three days.
"Dey went to my daddy's house an' take all. My daddy ran. My mother an'
my older sister wuz dere. My ma grab a quilt off de bed an' cover
herself all over wid it--head an' all. And set in a chair dere by de
fire. She tell us to git in de bed--but I ain't git in. And she yell out
when she hear 'em comin': 'Dere's de fever in heah!' Six of 'em come to
de door; but dey say dey ain't goin' in--dey'll catch de fever. Den some
more come along. Dey say dey gwine in. Dey ain't gwine to take no fever.
Fill two sack of 'tatoes. White man ask to search all trunk. Dey take
two of me Ma's good dresses out. Say to wrap 'tatoes in. I start to
cryin' den, an' dey say, 'Well, git us some sacks den.' I knowed where
some sacks wuz. I git 'em de sacks. Dey do 'em right. Dey bid 'em
goodbye, an' ax 'em where de man wuz. Dey give me 'leven or twelve
dollars. I wuz little an' ain't know. My mother never give it to me.
"I stay right on dere after freedom, until after I married."
Source: Mamie Riley, Negro about 80 years old, Estill, S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=May 24, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I was born near Broad River in de Dutch Fork of Newberry County. I was
a slave of Cage Suber. He was a fair master, but nothing to brag about.
I was small at slavery time and had to work in de white folks' house or
around the house until I was big enough to go to de field and work.
"Old Marse Cage always made me fan flies off of him when he lay down to
take a nap. The fan was made out of brushes.
"De white folks had cotton-pickings, corn-shuckings and quiltings. Dey
allus had something to eat at the frolics and I had to help wid 'em.
"I married John Riser. I moved to town several years ago."
Source: Susie Riser (80), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C., May 17, 1937.
=Project #1655=
=Henry Grant,=
=Columbia, S.C.=
=ISOM ROBERTS=
=_EX-SLAVE 80 YEARS OLD_=
Isom Roberts rents one room at 1226 Waverly Street, Columbia, S.C., and
lives alone. However frail he appears, he is able to support himself by
working in the yards about the city.
"Well, sir, white folks, I is eighty years old, or leastwise I is so
close to it, dat it don't make much difference. But even if I is dat
old, it don't seem so long since I was a little boy. Years flies by
mighty fas' to old folks, 'cause deir 'memberance is shorter, while
young folks 'members everything, and in dat way months and years drags
'long slower to them.
"I was a very small boy when de Civil War was gwine on. It seems like I
knows all 'bout Sherman's army comin' through dis State, a burnin'
Columbia and destroyin' and takin' away everything what folks had. I has
heard so much 'bout slavery and all them times, from my mammy and daddy,
dat it 'pears to me dat I 'sperienced it all. I 'spects knowin' 'bout
things is just 'bout as good and true as seein' them. Don't you?
"My daddy and mammy b'long to Marster Sam Louie, who had a big
plantation over in Calhoun County. He had 'bout fifty or more grown
slaves, 'sides many chillun of de slaves. Old marster was a good farmer;
raised big crops and saved what he made. He sho' was a fine business man
but he was mighty hard on everybody he had anything to do wid. He told
his slaves to work hard and make him a heap of money and that he would
keep it, in case of hard times. Times was all de time hard wid old
marster but de niggers never got no money. When news spread 'round dat
de Yankees was comin' to free de niggers, he called all de slaves up in
de yard and showed them a big sack of money, what they had made for
him, and told them dat he was gwine to kill all of them befo' de Yankees
set them free and that they wouldn't need no money after they was done
dead. All de slaves was mighty sad and troubled, all dat day, when old
marster made dat speech to them. But somethin' happened. It most makes
me tremble to talk to you 'bout it now. Providence, or some kind of
mercy spirit, was sho' walkin' 'round dat plantation dat night. Sometime
in de night it was whispered 'round amongst de slaves dat old marster
done took de smallpoxes and was mighty sick. Mammy said he must have
been terrible sick, 'cause they buried him two days after dat.
"After old marster flew away, everything was different on de plantation.
Miss Nancy, dat was old marster's wife, told de slaves dat when de
Yankees freed them, they could stay right there and work on shares or by
the day, which ever way they wanted. Many stayed on de plantation after
freedom while others went away. Me and my folks stayed on wid Miss Nancy
until she die. Then us moved on another plantation in de lower side of
de county. I stayed dere until my wife died, seventeen years ago.
"Does I 'member anything 'bout how de slaves was treated in slavery
time? Well, I 'members a little myself and a heap of what others told
me. Wid dis I has done told you, I believes I want to stop right dere. A
low fence is easier to git over than a high one. Say little and you
ain't gwine to have a heap to 'splain hereafter. Dere is a plenty of
persons dat has lost deir heads by not lettin' deir tongues rest.
Marster Sam Louie is dead now. He can't disturb nobody in his grave. He
had his faults and done many things wrong but show me dat person what
don't mis-step sometimes. All of us, both white and black, is prone to
step aside now and then. To tell de truth, old marster never knowed what
Sunday was. Everybody on de plantation worked on dat day as same as any
other day.
"But Boss, if my old marster was rough and hard and break de Sabbath and
all dat, he was no worser than what young white folks and niggers is
dese days. You can see them any time, floppin' 'bout in dese
automobiles, a drinkin' and a carryin' on. Sich stuff is abomination in
de sight of a decent person, much less dat One up yonder. (He pointed
upward).
"I's gwine to tell you boss, dat slavery time was better for de average
nigger than what they is gittin' now. Folks say dat slavery was wrong
and I 'spose it was, but to be poor like a heap of niggers is now, is de
worse thing dat has ever come upon them, I thinks. Dis gittin' something
wrong, ain't right. De North had no business sellin' niggers to de South
and de South had no business buyin' them from de North and makin' slaves
of them. Everything went on pretty nice for awhile, then de North got
jealous of de South and de South got 'spicious of de North. I believes
dat if you can't go over and you can't go under, then you should try to
go 'round. If de big men up North and here in de South had been good
'nough and smart 'nough, they might could a gone 'round dat terrible
Civil War. I believes dat.
"I marry Lucy Nelson when I was 'bout thirty years old. She was a bright
skin nigger, much brighter than I is. She was high tempered and high
spirited, too. She was sho' smart, and de best cook I has ever seen.
Just plain corn bread, dat she cooked in de hot ashes of de fireplace,
taste sweeter and better than de cake you buy now. But de least thing
would git her temper 'roused. I has knowed her to complain wid de old
hound dog us had, 'cause he didn't run some rabbits out de woods for me
to shoot. Fuss wid de cats, 'cause they didn't ketch de mouses in de
house. Quarrel wid de hens, 'cause they eat, cackled, scratched and
wallowed holes in de yard and wouldn't lay. Told de old rooster many
times dat she was gwine to chop his head off if he didn't crow sooner
and louder of mornin's and wake me up so I could go to work. All dis
sounds foolish I knows but you see how bent my back is. Well, I 'spects
it was bent from totin' so many buckets of water from de spring for her
to wash wid soon of mornin's, so I could then do a day's work.
"My wife thought she was doin' right by workin' like she did. She
thought dat she was helpin' me make a livin' for our big family of eight
chillun. Yes sir, I knows now she was right, but hard work broke her
health and brought her to her bed where she lingered 'bout one year and
then she went away from me. All dis took place seventeen years ago and,
from then to dis, I ain't seen no woman I would have for a wife, 'cause
I ain't gwine to find no woman Lucy's equal. All my chillun are dead,
'cept two, and I don't know where they is.
"Does poor folks have any blessings and pleasure? Well, yes sir, in a
way. You see they don't have no worriments over what they has, like rich
folks. They can sleep as hot as they want to in de summer time and raise
as big families as anybody. Sho', poor folks, and especially niggers,
has a good time on hog-killin' days. In early summer come them juicy
brierberries dat they enjoy so much. They last until watermelon season.
Then they has 'possum and 'tators in de fall. Most all livin' beings has
deir own way of doin' things and deir way of existin'. De hog roots for
his, de squirrel climbs for his, de chickens scratches for deirs, and de
nigger, well, if dere ain't nobody lookin', I reckon they could slip
deirs right handy.
"I sho' has enjoyed talkin' to you dis evening and now, if you will
'scuse me, I's gwine home and cook me a pot of turnips. I can almost
taste them now, I is so hungry."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=ALEXANDER ROBERTSON=
=_EX-SLAVE 84 YEARS OLD._=
Alexander Robertson lives as a member of the household of his son,
Charley, on the General Bratton plantation, four miles southeast of
White Oak, S.C. It is a box-like house, chimney in the center, four
rooms, a porch in front and morning glory vines, in bloom at this
season, climbing around the sides and supports. Does Alexander sit here
in the autumn sunshine and while the hours away? Nay, in fact he is
still one of the active, working members of the family, ever in the
fields with his grandchildren, poke around his neck, extracting fleecy
cotton from the bolls and putting it deftly into the poke. He can carry
his row equally as well as any of the six grandchildren. He has a good
appetite at meal time, digestive organs good, sleeps well, and is the
early riser in the mornings. He says the Negro half of his nature
objects to working on Saturday afternoon, and at such times his tall
figure, with a green patch cloth over the left eye, which is sightless,
may be seen strolling to and fro on the streets of Winnsboro.
"Well, well! If it ain't de youngun dat use to sell me sugar, coffee,
fat back and meal, when he clerk for Calvin Brice & Company, at
Woodward, in '84 and 'long dere.
"I hopes you is well dis mornin'. I's told to come to Winnsboro and gits
blanks for a pension. Andy Foster, man I knows, d'rect me up dese steps
and bless God I finds you. You wanna ask me some questions? Well, here I
is, more than glad to answer, if I can. Where I born? Strange as it
seems, I born right here in Winnsboro. My name set down in a book:
'Alexander-boy-mother, Hannah, wench of James Stewart'. Dat de way it
was read to me by Dr. Beaty, dat marry a Miss Cherry and live in Rock
Hill. If slavery had never been done 'way wid, dat would be my master
today, 'cause him lak hound dogs and I lak a hound dog. Dat kind of
breed got a good nose and make good 'possum dog. Marster Jim tell me one
time, dat de first dog sprung from a wolf, and dat fust dog was a hound
dog. Dat out dat fust dog, (must to a been a bitch, don't you reckon?)
come all dogs. I follow his talk wid belief, 'bout de setters, pointers,
and blood hounds, even to de fices, but it strain dat belief when it git
to de little useless hairy pup de ladies lead 'round wid a silver collar
and a shiney chain. Well, you don't care to hear anymore 'bout dat? What
is de question?
"My master at de fust, was Marster Jim Stewart and my mistress was his
wife, Mistress Clara. They have two chillun. I 'member Marster Jim and
Miss Lizzie; they live in a fine house befo' de war, 'round yonder close
to Mt. Zion College. My mother was de cook and I was de house boy. They
had a big plantation 'bout two miles out, sorta southwest of Boro, I
mean Winnsboro, of course, but de country people still call it Boro.
"On dat plantation was many two-room houses, brick chimneys in de
middle, for de plantation slaves. In de growin' season I go wid marster
every day, not to drive, too small for dat, just to hold de hoss, when
him git out and then I run errands for him, 'round de house and in de
fields.
"My mother had another child, Willie Finch. A colored man name of Finch
is his father but her and de white folks never tell me who my father
was. I have to find out dat for myself, after freedom, when I was
lookin' 'round for a name. From all I hear and 'pear in de lookin'
glass, I see I was half white for sure, and from de things I hear, I
conclude I was a Robertson which have never been denied. Maybe it best
just to give no front names. Though half a nigger, I have tried to live
up to dat name, never took it in dat court house over yonder, never
took it in dat jail or dat calaboose. I's paid my debts dollar for
dollar and owe no man nothin' but good will.
"What de Yankees do when they come? Let other people tell dat, but seem
lak they lay de whole town in ashes, 'cept de college and our house
close to it, dat they use for de officers while they was in Boro. Why
they hear sumpin' bout de Davis name techin' de St. John 'Piscopal
Church and they march 'round dere, one cold February Sunday mornin', set
it afire, and burn it up. Mother and me went to de plantation and stayed
dere 'til they left.
"When freedom come, I was twelve years old. Mother marry a Finch; Bill
was de name of him. Our nex' move was to Dr. Madden's place, just north
of Boro. Us farm up dere and I do de hoein'. I live dere thirteen years.
I got to feelin' my oats and tired of workin' for a plum black nigger, I
did. Maybe I ought to been more humble but I wasn't.
"I ask myself one night: 'What you gonna do, stay here forever for your
vittles and clothes?' Then come over my mind I old 'nough for to marry.
Who I gwine to marry? It pop right in dis head, Sarah was de gal for me.
I rode old Beck down dere de nex' Sunday; dat was in December. I come
right to de point wid her and de old folks. They 'low they have no
objections if I could take care of her. I say I try to. They say: 'Dat
ain't 'nough, 'range yourself for another year and then come and git
her'.
"De Lord directs me. I's down here payin' my poll, too. Marster Tom
Shanty Brice come in as us come out. I ask him if he need a hand for
nex' year. He look me up from top to bottom and say: 'What's your name?'
I show him my tax receipt. He hire me than and dere. I go right straight
to Sarah and us tell de old folks. Rev. Gordon marry us de 29th of
January, 1879. Us has seven chillun. Alex, dat's de one name for me, is
in Tampa, Florida. Carrie marry a Coleman and is in Charlotte, N.C.
Jimmie is dead. Thomas is in Charleston, S.C. Emma marry a Belton and
lives wid her husband in Ridgeway, S.C. I stay wid my son, Charley, up
de country.
"I voted one time in 1876, for Gov. Chamberlain, but when I moved to
Marster Tom Brice's I thought so much of him, I just quit voting. I
would lak to vote one more time to say: 'I have vote one time wid de
black part of my nature, dis time I votes wid de white side of my
nature.' What you laughin' 'bout? If it was de call of dark blood de
fust time, maybe it's de call of de white blood dis time. You have no
idea de worry and de pain a mulatto have to carry all his eighty-four
years. Forced to 'sociate wid one side, proud to be related to de other
side. Neither side lak de color of your skin. I jine de Methodist church
here in Boro and 'tend often as I can and as I hear my preacher Owens
preach, dat dere will be no sex in hebben, I hopes and prays dat dere'll
be no sich thing as a color line in hebben.
"Who de best white men I ever know? Mr. Tom Brice, Mr. W.L. Rosborough,
Mr. Watt Sinonton, and Mr. August Nicholson. Master Bill Beaty, dat
marry my young mistress, Elizabeth, was a fine man.
"What I think of Abe Lincoln? What I think of Mr. Roosevelt? Dere de
color come up again. De black say Mr. Lincoln de best President us ever
have; de white say us never have had and never will have a President
equal of Mr. Roosevelt."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=CHARLIE ROBINSON=
=_EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD._=
Charlie Robinson lives nine miles northwest of Winnsboro, S.C., on lands
of Mr. R.W. Lemmon. There is one other occupant in the four-room house,
John Giles, a share cropper. The house has two fireplaces, the brick
chimney being constructed in the center of the two main rooms. The other
two rooms are shed rooms. Charlie ekes out a living as a day laborer on
the farm.
"They been tellin' me to come to de social circle and see 'bout my
pension but I never is got dere. It been so hot, I hate to hotfoot it
nine miles to Winnsboro and huff dat same distance back on a hot summer
day.
"Glad you come out here but sorry of de day, 'cause it is a Friday and
all de jay-birds go to see de devil dat day of de week. It's a bad day
to begin a garment, or quilt or start de lye hopper or 'simmon beer keg
or just anything important to yourself on dat day. Dere is just one good
Friday in de year and de others is given over to de devil, his imps, and
de jay-birds. Does I believe all dat? I believes it 'nough not to patch
dese old breeches 'til tomorrow and not start my 'simmon beer, when de
frost fall on them dis fall, on a Friday.
"You wants me to set down so you can ask me sumpin'? I'll do dat! Of
course I will! (He proceeded to do so--wiping his nose on his sleeve and
sprawling down on the doorsill). My pappy name George, black George they
call him in slavery time, 'cause dere was a small yallow slave on de
place, named George. My mammy name Ca'line. My pappy b'long to de
McNeals and my mammy b'long to Marse Joe Beard. His wife was my
mistress. Her name Miss Gracie. 'Nitials? Dat sumpin' not in my lingo,
Boss. You want to know what my pappy's old marster name? Seem to me they
call him Marse Gene, though it been so long I done forgot. When my
marster went to de war him got a ball through his leg. Bad treatment of
dat leg give him a limp for de balance of his days. White folks call him
'Hoppin' Joe Beard' and sometime 'Lopin' Joe'.
"Marster and mistress have two chillun. I play marbles wid them and make
mud pies. Deir names was Marse Willie and Miss Rhoda.
"My brudders and sisters was Jeff, Roland, Jane and Fannie. All dead
'cept Fannie. Her marry a big, long nigger name Saul Griffin. Last I
heard of them, they was livin' in Columbia, S.C.
"I start workin' in de field de second year of de war, 1862. It sho'
made me hungry. I 'members now, how I'd git a big tin cupful of pot
liquor from de greens, crumble corn bread in it at dinner time and 'joy
it as de bestest part of de dinner. Us no suffer for sumpin' to eat. I
go all summer in my shirt-tail and in de winter I have to do de best I
can, widout any shoes. Ever since then, I just lak to go barefooted as
you sees me now.
"My pappy git a pass and come to see mammy every Saturday night. My
marster had just four slave houses on de place. 'Spect him have 'bout
eight women, dat men come from other places to see and marry them and
have chillun. I doesn't 'member nary one of de women havin' a husband
livin' wid her every night.
"Who do de plowin'? Women and boys do de plowin'. Had good 'nough
houses, though they was made of logs, 'cup and saddled' at both ends,
and covered wid white oak board shingles. Had stick and mud chimneys.
"De Yankees made a clean sweep of everything, hosses, mules, cows, hogs,
meat and 'lasses. Got so mad when they couldn't find any salt, they burn
up everything. Pull Marse Joe's beard, just 'cause him name Beard. De
one dat do dat was just a smart aleck and de cap'n of de crowd shame
him and make him slink 'way, out de house.
"When freedom come, Marse Joe stay one year, then leave. Sell out and
move to Walhalla and us move to pappy on de McNeal place. Dat year us
all jined de church, Union Church. I now b'longs to New Hope Methodist
Church. Us nex' move to Mr. Bill Crawford's place. Mr. Crawford got to
be school commissioner on de 'publican ticket and white folks call him
scalawag. Him have pappy and all de colored folks go to de 'lection box
and vote. Ku Klux come dere one night and whip every nigger man they
could lay deir hands on. Things quiet down then but us no more go to de
'lection box and vote.
"'Bout dis time thoughts of de gals got in my head and feets at de same
time. I was buyin' a biled shirt and celluloid collar, in Mr. Sailing
Wolf's store, one Saturday, and in walked Ceily Johnson. I commence to
court her right then and dere, befo' I ever git inside dat shirt and
collar. Her have dark skin and was good to look at, I tell you. I
de-sash-shay 'bout dat gal, lak a chicken rooster spread his wing 'round
a pretty black pullet, 'til I wear out her indifference and her make me
happy by marryin' me. Her was too good lookin' and too bad doin',
though, for me. She left by de light of de moon when us was livin' on de
Cummings place, 'bove town. Excuse me now, dat's still a fresh subject
of torment to me. Let's talk 'bout chances of gittin' dat pension, when
I can git another clean white shirt, lay 'round de white folks again,
and git dis belly full of pot liquor."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon.=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=AL ROSBORO=
=_EX-SLAVE 90 YEARS OLD._=
Al Rosboro, with his second wife, Julia, a daughter, and six small
grandchildren, lives in a three-room frame house, three hundred yards
east of the Southern Railway track and US #21, about two miles south of
Woodward, S.C., in Fairfield County. Mr. Brice gives the plot of ground,
four acres with the house, to Al, rent free. A white man, Mr. W.L.
Harvey does the ploughing of the patches for him. Al has cataracts on
his eyes and can do no work. Since this story was written he has
received his first old age pension check of eight dollars from the
Social Welfare Board in Columbia, S.C.
"Does I know what a nonagenarian is? No seh, what dat? Old folks? Well,
dats a mighty long name and I been here a mighty long time. Glad you say
it's a honor and a privilege by de mercy of de Lord. I's thankful! You
wants to know where I was born and who my white folks then?
"I was born just one and a half mile b'low White Oak, S.C., on de old
Marse Billie Brice place. My pappy b'long to old Miss Jennie Rosboro,
but mammy b'long to Marse William Brice. Her name Ann. My old mistress
name Mary, daughter of de Simontons, on Dumpers Creek.
"You wants de fust thing I 'members, then travel 'long de years 'til I
come to settin' right here in dis chair. Well, reckon us git through
today? Take a powerful sight of dat pencil to put it all down.
"Let me see. Fust thing I 'members well, was a big crowd wid picks and
shovels, a buildin' de railroad track right out de other side of de big
road in front of old marster's house. De same railroad dat is dere
today. When de fust engine come through, puffin' and tootin', lak to
scare 'most everybody to death. People got use to it but de mules and
bosses of old marster seem lak they never did. A train of cars a movin'
'long is still de grandest sight to my eyes in de world. Excite me more
now than greyhound busses, or airplanes in de sky ever do.
"I nex' 'members my young misses and young marsters. Dere was Marse
John; he was kilt in de war. Marse Jim, dat went to de war, come back,
marry, and live right here in Winnsboro. Marse Jim got a grandson dat am
in de army a sailin' air-ships. Then dere was Marse William; he moved
off. One of de gals marry a Robertson, I can't 'member her name, tho' I
help her to make mud pies many a day and put them on de chicken coop, in
de sun, to dry. Her had two dolls; deir names was Dorcas and Priscilla.
When de pies got dry, she'd take them under de big oak tree, fetch out
de dolls and talk a whole lot of child mother talk 'bout de pies, to de
Dorcas and Priscilla rag dolls. It was big fun for her tho' and I can
hear her laugh right now lak she did when she mince 'round over them
dolls and pies. Dere was some poor folks livin' close by and she'd send
me over to 'vite deir chillun over to play wid her. They was name
Marshall. Say they come from Virginny and was kin to de highest judge in
de land. They was poor but they was proud. Mistress felt sorry for them
but they wouldn't 'cept any help from her.
"Well, when I git twelve years old, marster give me to his son, Marse
Calvin, and give Marse Calvin a plantation dat his son, Homer, live on
now. I 'member now old marster's overseer comin' to de field; his name
was McElduff. Him say: 'Al, Marse William say come to de house'. I goes
dere on de run. When I git dere, him 'low: 'Calvin, I wants you to take
Al, I give him to you. Al, you take good care of your young marster'. I
always did and if Marse Calvin was livin' he'd tell you de same.
"I forgit to tell you one thing dat happen down dere befo' I left. Dere
was a powerful rich family down dere name Cockrell; I forgits de fust
name. Him brudder tho', was sheriff and live in Winnsboro. Dere was a
rich Mobley family dat live jinin' him, two miles sunrise side of him.
One day de Cockrell cows got out and played thunder wid Mr. Mobley's
corn. Mr. Mobley kilt two of de cows. Dat made de Cockrells mad. They
too proud to go to law 'bout it; they just bide deir time. One day Marse
Ed Mobley's mules got out, come gallopin' 'round and stop in de Cockrell
wheat field. Him take his rifle and kill two of them mules. Dat made Mr.
Mobley mad but him too proud to go to law 'bout it. De Mobley's just
bide deir time. 'Lection come 'round for sheriff nex' summer. No
Cockrell was 'lected sheriff dat time. You ask Mr. Hugh Wylie 'bout dat
nex' time him come to de Boro. Him tell you all 'bout it.
"Dat call to my mind another big man, dat live 'bove White Oak then,
Marse Gregg Cameron. He was powerful rich, wid many slaves. Him lak to
bar-room and drink. Him come by marster's house one day, fell off his
hoss and de hoss gallop on up de road. Dat was de fust drunk man I ever
see. Marster didn't know what to do; him come into de house and ask
Mistress Mary. Him tell her him didn't want to scandal de chillun. She
say: 'What would de good Samaritan do?' Old marster go back, fetch dat
groanin', cussin', old man and put him to bed, bathe his head, make Sam,
de driver, hitch up de buggy, make West go wid him, and take Marse Gregg
home. I never see or hear tell of dat white man anymore, 'til one day
after freedom when I come down here to Robinson's Circus. Him drop dead
dat day at de parade, when de steam piano come 'long a tootin'. 'Spect
de 'citement, steam, and tootin', was too much for him.
"Niggers never learn to read and write. It was 'ginst de law. White
folks fear they would write deir passes and git 'way to de free states.
"Us slaves 'tend Concord Church, tho' Marse Calvin jine de Seceders and
'tend New Hope. Why us go to Concord? 'Cause it too far to walk to New
Hope and not too far to walk to Concord. Us have not 'nough mules for
all to ride, and then de mules need a rest. I now b'longs to Bethany
Presbyterian Church at White Oak. Yes sah, I thinks everybody ought to
jine de church for it's de railroad train to git to hebben on.
"Marse Calvin went to de war. Him got shot thru de hand. Yankees come
and burn up everything him have. Wheeler's men just as bad.
"After freedom I got mannish. Wid not a drop of blood in me but de pure
African, I sets out to find a mate of de pure breed. 'Bout de onliest
place I could find one of dis hatchin', was de Gaillard quarter. I marry
Gabrielle. Live fust years at de Walt Brice McCullough place, then move
to de Vinson place, then to de preacher Erwin place. Dat was a fine
preacher, him pastor for Concord. Him lak to swap hosses. When him come
down out de pulpit him looks 'round, see a hoss him lak, soon as not him
go home to dinner wid de owner of dat hoss. After dinner him say: 'If it
wasn't de Sabbath, how would you trade dat hoss for my hoss?' More words
pass between them, just supposin' all de time it was Monday. Then Mr.
Erwin ride back dere nex' day and come back wid de hoss him took a fancy
for.
"Mr. Erwin move when he git a call to Texas. I moves to de Bob Sinonton
place. From dere I goes to de Jim Brice place, now owned by young Marse
James Brice. I been dere 32 years. Gabrielle and me generate thirteen
chillun, full blooded natural born Africans, seven boys and six gals.
Then Gabrielle die and I marry Julia Jenkins. Us have five chillun, one
boy and four gals. I's done a heap for my country. I wants Mr. Roosevelt
to hear 'bout dat; then maybe him make de country do sumpin' for me."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=TOM ROSBORO=
=_EX-SLAVE 79 YEARS OLD._=
Tom Rosboro lives with his daughter, Estelle Perry, in a three-room
frame house, on Cemetery Street, Winnsboro, S.C. The house stands on a
half-acre plot that is used for garden truck. Estelle owns the fee in
the house and lot. Tom peddles the truck, eggs, and chickens, in the
town and the suburban Winnsboro mill village.
"My pappy was name Tom, just lak I is name Tom. My mammy was name Sarah
but they didn't b'long to de same marster. Pappy b'long to old Marse
Eugene McNaul. Mammy b'long to old Marse John Propst. De ownership of de
child followed de mammy in them days. Dat throwed me to be a slave of
old Marse John Propst.
"My young marsters was name Marse Johnnie, Marse Clark, Marse Floyd, and
Marse Wyatt. I had two young misses. Miss Elizabeth marry a McElroy and
Miss Mamie marry a Landecker. You know Marse Ernest Propst dat run dat
ladies' garment store and is a member of de Winnsboro Town Council? Yes?
Well, dat is one of Marse Floyd Propst chillun.
"I hear mammy say dat daddy's mistress was name Miss Emma but her
mistress and my mistress was name Miss Margaret. My daddy have to have a
pass every time he come to see mammy. Sometime they give him a general
pass for de year. Sometime him lose de pass and then such a gwine on you
never did see de lak. Make more miration (hullabaloo) over it than if
they had lost one of de chillun. They was scared de patarollers
(patrollers) would come ketch him, and lay de leather whip on his naked
back. He wouldn't dare stay long. Him would go back soon, not on de big
road but through de woods and fields, so as not to meet de patarollers.
"Who was my brothers and sisters and where is they? Brother Ben and
Sister Mamie is dead and in glory. Dat's all de chillun mammy had a
chance to have, 'cause she was a good woman and would never pay any
'tention to de men slaves on de Propst place. Her was faithful to pappy
through thick and thin, whichever it be.
"I doesn't 'member much 'bout de Yankees, though I does 'members de Ku
Klux. They visit pappy's house after freedom, shake him, and threaten
dat, if him didn't quit listenin' to them low-down white trash scalawags
and carpetbaggers, they would come back and whale de devil out of him,
and dat de Klan would take notice of him on 'lection day.
"When I was 'bout seventeen years old, I come to de Boro (Winnsboro) one
Saturday evenin' and seen a tall willowy gal, black she was but shiny,
puttin' them foots of her'n down on de pavement in a pretty gamecock
pullet kind of way, as if to say: 'Roosters look at me.' I goes over to
Mr. Landecker's store, de Mr. Landecker dat marry Miss Mamie Propst, and
I begs him to give me a cigar. I lights dat cigar and puts out after
her. I ketches up wid her just as she was comin' out of Mr. Sailing
Wolfe's Jew store. I brush up 'ginst her and say: 'Excuse me lady.' Her
say: 'I grants your pardon, Mister. I 'spects smoke got in your eyes and
you didn't see me.' I say: 'Well, de smoke is out of my eyes now and
they will never have sight for any other gal but you as long as I live.'
Black as she was, her got red in de face and say: 'Who is you?' I say:
'Tom Rosboro. What might be your name, lovely gal?' Her say: 'My name is
Mattie Nelson.' I say: 'Please to meet you, Sugar Plum.' Her say: 'I
live down at Simpson's Turnout. Glad to have you come down to see me
sometime.' After dat us kep' a meetin' in Winnsboro, every Saturday,
'til one day us went 'round to Judge Jno. J. Neils' law office and him
married us. Me and Mat have our trials and tribulations and has went up
and down de hills in all kind of weather. Us never ceased to bless dat
day dat I run into her at Mr. Sailing Wolfe's store.
"How come I name Rosboro? I just picked it up as a mighty pretty name.
Sound better than Propst or McNaul and de Rosboro white folks was big
buckra in dat time.
"Us had lots of chillun; raise some and lost some. I have a son,
Charlie, dat's a barber in Washington, D.C. Lucy, a daughter, marry Tank
Hill. Nan marry Banks Smith. Estelle marry Jim Perry but her is a widow
now. Her bought a house and lot wid de insurance money from Dr. McCants.
She has a nice house on Cemetery Street, wid water and 'lectric lights.
Her got four chillun. When my wife die, two years ago, I move in wid
Estelle and her four chillun. Her make money by washin' and ironin' for
de white folks. Me and de chillun picks cotton and 'tends to de makin'
and de peddlin' of garden truck and sich lak. Ah, us is a happy family
but I ain't 'bove usin' some of dat old age pension money, if I can git
it."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=INTERVIEW WITH
REUBEN ROSBOROUGH, RIDGEWAY, S.C.=,
=_EX-SLAVE--82 YEARS, 3 MONTHS OLD_=
"No sir, I can 'member nothin' 'bout de State of Verginny, where pappy
said us was born. He told me, when I was 'bout two years old he and
mammy Kitty was took from somewhar in dat state to Richmond, wid de
understandin' to sell us as a family, and to give a man name Johnson, de
preference. He say de trader couldn't find de man Johnson, and sold us
to my marster, John Rosborough. My pappy name William, my brothers, Tom
and Willie and my sisters, Mary and Alice.
"My marster was a kind and tender man to slaves. You see a man love
hosses and animals? Well, dat's de way he love us, though maybe in
bigger portion, I 'low. Marster John never marry. Set down dere dat he
was good enough to buy my old gran' mammy Mary, though she never could
do much work.
"Us knowed dat our gran'pappy was a white man back in Verginny, but dat
was her secret, dat she kept locked in her breast and carried it wid her
to de grave. You say I's very light color myself? So I is, so was she,
so was pappy. Ease your mind, us had none of de white Rosborough in us.
Us come on one side from de F.F.V's. I's proud of dat, and you can put
down dere dat deres no poor white trash blood in dese old veins, too.
"De last part of de war I worked some in de field, but not enough to
hurt. My Marster was a Presbyterian, b'longed to Aimwell Church. Two or
three acres in cemetery dere now, but they done move de church into de
town of Ridgeway.
"Money was not worshipped then like it is now. Not much use of it.
Marster raised all we eat and made all we wear right dere on de place,
'bout five miles north of Ridgeway.
"I guess Marster John had forty slaves. Us live in two-story log house
wid plank floor. Marster John die, us 'scend to his brother Robert and
his wife Mistress Mary. I played wid her chillun. Logan was one and
Janie the other. My marster and mistress was good to me. I use to drive
de mules to de cotton gin. All I had to do was to set on de long beam
and crack my whip every now and then, and de mules would go 'round and
'round. Dere was three hundred and seventy-six acres in dat place. I own
part of it today. I b'longs to Good Hope Church. I sure believes in de
Lord, and dat His mercies is from everlastin' to everlastin' to them dat
fears Him.
"'Member but little 'bout de war for freedom, 'cept dat some of de
slaves of marster was sent to de front to use pick and shovel to throw
up breast works, and things of dat nature. My pappy was de foreman and
stayed at home, carry on whilst Marster Robert go.
"'Deed I recollects 'bout de Yankees. They come and ask my pappy, de
foreman, where was de mules and hosses hid out? Pappy say he don't know,
he didn't carry them off. They find out a boy dat knowed; make him tell,
and they went and got de mules and hosses. They took everything and
left.
"Doctor Scott was our doctor. Dere was in them days lots of
rattlesnakes; had to be keerful of them. Then us hear lots and had lots
of chills and fever. They found de remedy, but they was way off 'bout
what make them come on you. Some 'low it was de miasma dat de devil
bring 'round you from de swamp and settle 'round your face whilst you
sleep, and soon as he git you to snore you sniffed it to your liver,
lights and gall, then dat make bile, and then you was wid de chills a
comin' every other day and de fever all de day. Marster Doctor Hayne
done find out dat de skeeter bring de fever and de chills, and funny,
he 'low dat it is de female skeeter bite dat does de business. You
believe dat? I didn't at first, 'til old Doctor Lindor tell me dat it
was no harder to believe than dat all disease come into de world when a
female bite a apple in de garden of Eden.
"I think Mr. Lincoln was raised up by de Lord, just like Moses, to free
a 'culiar people. I think Mr. Roosevelt is de Joshua dat come after him.
No president has done as much for de poor of both races as de one now
president. God bless him and 'stain him in his visions and work to bring
de kingdom of heaven into and upon de earth."
=Project #-1655=
=C.S. Murray=
=Charleston, S.C.=
=Approx. 430 Words.=
=GOING DOWN TO DIE=
(=FOLKLORE=)
=STORY TOLD BY EX-SLAVE=
Boss Man, you talk about de brave soldier who been in de last big war
and how dey look death in de eye and spit on him. I ain't see dat war.
It been 'cross de water. But I know sump'en 'bout de Civil War. I been
young lad when de big gun shoot and de Yankee pile down from de north.
Talk 'bout being brave. De bravest thing I ever see was one day at
Ashepoo junction. Dat was near de end of de war. Grant was standing up
before Richmond; Sherman was marching tump-tump through Georgia. I was a
stripling lad den and boy-like I got to see and hear everything. One day
more than all, de overseer sent my pappy to Ashepoo junction to get de
mail. I gone 'long wid him. Seem like I jest had to go dat day.
I member dat morning well. When I get to de junction de train start to
come in. What a lot of train! De air fair smoke up wid dem. They come
shouting in from Charleston, bound up-country.
I stand wid my pappy near de long trestle, and see de train rock by. One
enjine in front pulling one in de back pushing, pushing, pushing. De
train load down wid soldier. They thick as peas. Been so many a whole
ton been riding on de car roof. They shout and holler. I make big amaze
to see such a lot of soldier--all going down to die.
And they start to sing as they cross de trestle. One pick a banjo, one
play de fiddle. They sing and whoop, they laugh; they holler to de
people on de ground, and sing out, "Good-bye." All going down to die.
And it seem to me dat is de most wonderful sight I ever see. All them
soldier, laughing light, singing and shouting dat way, and all riding
fast to battle.
One soldier man say in a loud voice: "Well, boys we going to cut de
Yankee throat. We on our way to meet him and he better tremble. Our gun
greeze up, and our bayonet sharp. Boys we going to eat our dinner in
hell today."
I turn to my pappy and ax him how can man act like dat when they going
down to die. He answer me: "Dat ain't nutting. They n'use to dat. Ain't
you know soldier different?"