I. Rabbit in de hollow,
I ain' got no dog,
How can I catch em?
I do know! I do know!
O Me! O Mine!
Sorry dat if I leave my home,
I gwine to my shack
Wid de chicken on my back,
Nobody business but mine.
(_Continued on next page._)
II. Rabbit in de hollow,
Ain' got no dog,
How can he catch em?
I do know! I do know!
O Me! O Mine!
Let every nigger have his way,
Gwine to his shack
Wid he chicken on his back,
Nobody business but his.
_Source_: Hector Smith, ex-slave, 79 years.,
Wahee section of Marion Co., S.C.
Personal interview, July 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, July 14, 1937=
=No. Words______7____=
=Reduced from_____words=
=Rewritten by=
________________________
=_WAY DOWN IN DE LONESOME VALLEY_=
I. De mockin birds a singin so sweetly,
So sweetly, so sweetly.
De mockin birds a singin so sweetly,
So sweetly, so sweetly.
Way down in de lonesome valley.
II. Dey tell you one thing en dey mean another,
Mean another, mean another.
Dey tell you one thing en dey mean another,
Mean another, mean another.
Way down in de lonesome valley.
III. Some say, what make de young girls so deceivin?
So deceivin, so deceivin?
Some say, what make de young girls so deceivin?
So deceivin, so deceivin?
Way down in de lonesome valley.
"Dat go way back dere. De peoples didn' have nothin more den a mouth
organ to make music wid in dem times."
_Source_: Hector Smith, age 79, ex-slave., Wahee section
of Marion Co., S.C.
Personal interview, July 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, July 14, 1937=
=No. Words____8______=
=Reduced from_____words=
=Rewritten by=
________________________
=_HOLD DE DEAL_=
I. Kitty, Kitty died O--O,
Kitty had a man.
Rather kiss a monkey,
Den to kiss a nigger man.
Hold de deal! Hold de deal!
I'm gwine to get drunk again.
II. Nigger on de horseback,
Thought he was de king.
Come along alligator,
En let de nigger in.
Hold de deal! Hold de deal!
I'm gwine to get drunk again.
_Source_: Hector Smith, age 79, ex-slave, Wahee section
of Marion Co., S.C.
Personal interview, July 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, July 14, 1937=
=No. Words____9______=
=Reduced from_____words=
=Rewritten by=
________________________
=Hector Smith=
=ex-Slave, 79 years.=
"I use to holler a heap in late years but after I lay it down, all dat
leave me."
Bulldogs a barkin,
Howl! Howl!
Bulldogs a barkin,
Howl! Howl!
Bulldogs a barkin,
Howl! Howl!
Ah--oodle--oodle--ou,
Ah--oodle--oodle--ou,
Ah--ou--ah--ou,
Ah--oodle--ou,
Ah--ou--ah--ou,
Ah--oodle--oodle--ou.
_Source_: Hector Smith, 79 years, ex-slave, Wahee section
of Marion Co., S.C.
Personal interview, July 1937.
=Project 1885-(1)=
=Folk Lore=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=District No. 4=
=May 28, 1937.=
=Edited by:=
=R.V. Williams=
=STORIES OF EX-SLAVES=
"Aunt" Jane Smith, 80 years old, says that she was only eight years old
when the war ended, and that her recollections are very meagre as to
conditions during slavery.
Her mother belonged to John Snoddy, who owned a farm a few miles west of
Spartanburg. Her father was owned by Dr. Miller of a nearby plantation.
She stated that she was old enought to rock the cradle for the white
babies during slavery.
She stated that she could remember seeing some of the slaves being
whipped on their bare backs with a plaited hickory stick, or thong. She
never received any whippings. She said that a man once cut at her with
his thong, but that she escaped the blow by dodging.
She said she remembered seeing a small child with a piece of bread in
its hand when a hog entered the house and in snatching at the bread,
caught the child's hand near the thumb with its tusks. When running off,
the hog carried the child with it, dragging it along into the field. All
the other children and some men ran after the hog and caught it. The
other colored children were whipped, but by staying in the house and
watching the babies, keeping them safe from other pigs which had also
entered the house, she was not whipped.
Aunt Jane said that when the Yankee soldiers came to the house, they
were just as thick as the "fingers on her hands." She held up her hands
for inspection to illustrate how thick the soldiers stood in the ranks.
She said they did not take anything, but that they crawled under the
house to get the hen eggs. One soldier, she said, came to the house and
asked if there were any horses on the farm. A colored woman told him
that there were no horses on the place, but just at that time, one of
the horses in a nearby stable neighed, and the soldier threatened the
woman's life for lying to him. She says she doesn't remember whether the
soldier took the horses but thinks that he did.
The soldiers told the colored people that they free, but she said that
didn't signify much to her mind. Some time afterwards, she said her
father came and carried her and her mother to his master's place. Later,
she came to Spartanburg and got a job as a cook and washerwoman.
When asked if she knew anything about conjuring, she stated that she had
heard of it but didn't know anything about it. When asked if she had
ever seen a ghost, she said, "No, but I heard one once." She said that
one night after her master had killed "hisself" in the barn with a
pistol, she heard the doors being shut, the windows being slammed, and
the chairs rocking on the front porch all by themselves. She declared
that the wind was not blowing and that a "ghost was doing all dem
things."
She stated that she had been married twice; had reared a houseful of
children; had adopted some and reared them, but that she didn't have
anybody to work for her now but "him," referring to her husband who was
sitting on a trunk.
"Thank the Lord for coming to see me," she said, as the writer left.
SOURCE: Jane Smith, Concord St., Spartanburg, S.C. Interviewer: F.S.
DuPre
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Nov. 9, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I liked to went crazy when my brother, Bob, went to Arkansas. Den Marse
George Young wrote our names in a book and give it to my ma. It was jes'
a small mem'randum book. We kept it till Miss Addie, dat is Mrs. Billy,
give ma de Bible storybook, and den she copied our names in dat one. De
little book was about wore out den; so it was burned up when Miss Addie
had done finished writing our names in de storybook. Us gwine to keep
dat book and hand it down atter we done left dis earth. Ma been dead now
over fifty years.
"I sho nu'sed Marse George's chilluns fer him, when I was a little gal.
Jimmie, Willie, Conquest, Jack, Katie and Annie was Marse's chilluns.
Conquest dead now. Marse George had a great big house. He was a jes'tice
of de peace or something or 'nother den. I don't know what year my ma
died, but Marse had her buried at New Chapel. Dat same year we raised a
big crop of corn, cotton and peanuts, and had plenty hogs. Marse let us
have all we wanted. He let us hang our meat in his smokehouse dat year.
"Befo' ma died and I was a little gal, a terrible thing happened to us.
Across de Enoree on another place, de Miller place, Fannie Miller run
away. Dey couldn't find her fer a long time. Dey told my marster to git
her. One Sunday my ma got ready to dress me fer Sunday school. She
bathed me and when she looked in de drawer she couldn't find my clothes.
All of her clothes was gone, too. I cried 'cause I couldn't go to Sunday
school. Maude, de woman what lived next to us, went to church. She saw
Fannie dar wid all ma's clothes on. She told Marse about it and he sont
out and had Fannie caught. She had come to our house and got de clothes
on Saturday evening. She had dem hid in a old house on our place. Dey
put her in jail, and den her marster come and whupped her and sont de
clothes back to ma. She never tried to run off agin.
"Jack Gist, a slave of Gov. Gist, run away once and lived in a cave fer
five months befo' de white folks found him. He went down on 'de forest'
and dug a cave near de road in sight of de Harris Bridge which still
spans de Fairforest Creek at dat p'int. De cave wasn't dug on Governor
Gist's land, but on a place know'd den as de old Jackson place. In de
mid hours of night Jack come to see his friends and dey give him things
to eat. When dey got him he had a hog, two geese, some chickens and two
middles of meat. Cose de hog and de middles was stole.
"One night he was crossing de Fairforest Creek on a foot-log and he met
Anderson Gist, one of de Governor's slaves. Dey talked fer awhile. Next
morning, Anderson come wid his marster to de cave whar Jack was. Dey
took all his things on to de big house, and he was whupped and put back
to work. Governor Gist and our marster was good to deir slaves and dey
didn't punish 'em hard like some of 'em did. We had lots more den dan we
has had ever since.
"I never went to de field till atter freedom come. Dey wasn't hard on us
in de fields and I liked to work. We worked mostly from sun-up till it
was too dark to work. Marster's youngest girl, Mary Jane Young, married
Mr. Dave Lane. Dey didn't have a wedding.
"My grandpa was a African and he talked real funny. He was low, chunky,
fat and real black. He went around a lot befo' he died. He was de father
of my mother, Clora. Granny, his wife, was called 'Fender' and she died
de first year of freedom. She was sold and lived on a neighboring
plantation. We went to see her every Saturday. Ma would always take us
to see her, and if we didn't git to go, she come to see us. We liked to
go, and Marse always give us a pass. De patrollers watch us like a hawk,
but we had our passes and we told dem if dey bothered us our marster
would handle 'em. He would, too, 'cause dat was 'de law'. Granny Fender
was good looking. She wore purty beads, earrings and bracelets, and
wrapped her head up in a red cloth. Her eyes and teeth flashed and she
was always jolly. Sometimes we stay all night, but most de time we come
back home. When she come to see us she always stay all night. All de old
folks had real religion den, and it kept 'em happy. Folks now are too
fancy fer religion and it ain't real. I has real religion and nothing
don't worry me. I feels happy all de time over it.
"My marster give my mother de spot of ground and de lumber fer our
church which was named New Chapel. De second church is on de same spot.
De first preaching was had under a oak tree, or arbor. Uncle Tony Murphy
was de first preacher. He was my favorite of all de preachers. Marse
read de Bible to us, but sometimes others read it to us, too. His son,
Bud, dat was killed in de first battle, used to come to de quarters and
read de Bible to us.
"Alex Hall was de minister dat immersed us all. We was all Methodists,
but out dar dey baptized everybody in de Fairforest no matter what
church dey went to. Dar was fifty people baptized de day dat I was.
Milly Bethane made me a big white robe to be baptized in. When I got out
I had a white dress to put on. Dey had a tent fer us to go in to change
our clothes. We was baptized in de Fairforest jes' above de Harris
Bridge. Everybody sung while we was going under de water. Some of 'em
shouted, too. It took de earthquake to shake religion in my husband. He
was Emanuel Gist, de first one.
"Dat night, de people was hollering and woke me up. My husband called
me. 'What dat?' he 'low. 'I don't know,' I says. He got up and run out.
Soon he come back home and he was shaking all over. He fell on de bed.
When de chimney started to fall, I told him to git up. He said he was
too scared to git up. I pulled him up and he was so scared dat he shook
all over. I opened de door. He was too scared to stand up. Next day he
couldn't work; so he went off. I looked fer him till way in de night.
When he did come home, he was rejoicing. He was wid religion and he
never give it up. Dat was on de night of de earthquake. You could hear
people hollering fer miles around."
Source: Mary Smith (N, 84), Buffalo St., Union, S.C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (9/14/37)
=S-260-264-N=
=Project: #1885=
=Augustus Ladson=
=Charleston, S.C.=
=EXPERIENCES OF AN EX-SLAVE ON WARDMALAW ISLAND=
=_Massa Wus Kind to Slaves_=
Prince Smith, a man who is said to be over a hundred years of age, has
lived on Wardmalaw Island practically all of his life. His experiences
during slavery are very interesting and true to life. An interview with
him revealed the following:
"I was bo'n an' raise' on dis island and was only frum here when de
Civil War had begun. W'en Fort Sumter wus fired on mossa carried seventy
of us to Greenville, South Ca'lina on account of its montanous sections,
which was believed would have prevented the Yankees invasion in regard
to their hide-out." We stayed een Greenville nearly four years. Durin'
dat time mossa planted his fa'm an' we wurk as if we wus right here.
"The Yankees had gunboats," he continued, "but dey didn' help dem atoll
fur dey couldn' make any a'tack dat dis place is so unsuited fur water
battles. But forest' battles wus fight on Beaufort Island and Port
Royale. We een Greenville didn' know enyt'ing 'bout whut wus goin' on
except what wus brought to us collud people by dose who wus sent to da
town. Mossa didn' tell us eny ting. Fur almos' four 'ears we stayed een
Greenville w'en suddenly one Chuesday mornin' bright an' early, Sheridan
came into Greenville on horse backs en' order ebery body to sarrendar.
Colonels an' Gen'rals came een de city widout de firin' of a gun. We
stayed dere 'til harvestin' time by de orders of Master Osland Bailey
who saw to it dat we wus given money as a share fur our wurk.
"Mossa's custom at de end of de week wus to give a dry peck o' corn
which you had to grin' on Sat'day ebenin' w'en his wurk wus done. Only
on Chris'mus he killed en give a piece o' meat. De driber did de
distribution o' de ration. All young men wus given four quarts o' corn
a week, while de grown men wus given six quarts. All of us could plant
as much lan' as we wuld fur our own use. We could raise fowls. My master
wus a gentleman, he treat all his slaves good. My fadder an' me wus his
favorite.
"Some o' de slaves had to wurk on Sunday to finish dere week's wurk. If
dey didn' de dribber who wus a Negro would give a lashin' varyin' frum
fifteen to twenty five chops. Only high-class massas had Negro
dribbters, de crackers had white overseers.
"Like odder slaves had to hide frum dere mastas to hab meetin', us could
hab ours any night we want to even widout his consent. When masta went
to town any o' his slaves could ax him to buy t'ings for dem een
Cha'leston. When Jews en peddlers came with clothes an' gunger to sell,
we as chillun would go to him an' ax fur money to buy whut we want.
"He had about four hund'ed acres of land which he divided in two half by
a fence. One 'ear he would plant one an' let de cattles pasture on de
oder. We could also raise hogs 'long wood his but had to change pasture
w'en he did. De people on his plantation didn' hab any need to steal
from him fur he didn' 'low us to want fur any thing.
"Dere wus three kinds of days wurk on de plantation: One is de whole
tas', meanin' a whole han' or a person een his prime. He wus given two
tas' fur dis day's wurk. A tas' carried frum twenty four to twenty five
rows which wus thirty-five feet long en twenty five feet wide. De shree
fourth han' wus given one whole tas' which consists of twelve rows. All
de young chillun wus included in dis group. De half han' was de old
slaves who did a half tas' for dere day's work. When it was time to pick
cotton, de shree fourth han' had to pick thirty pound' an' de half han'
twenty fur dere day's wurk. Dose who attended to the gin only include de
three fourth han'.
"Massa had shree kinds o' punishment fur dose who disobeyed him. One wus
de sweatbox. It wus made de height of de person an' no larger. Jus'
large 'nough so de person woodn' hab to be squeezed in. De box is
nailed an' een summer is put een de hot sun; een de winter it is put in
de coldest, dampest place. De next is de Stock. Wood is nailed on floor
with de person lyin' on his back wid hans an' feet tied wood a heavy
weight on de chest. De shird is de Bilboa. You are place on a high
scaffold fur so many hours an' if you don' try to keep a level head,
you'll fall an you will surely hurt yourself if your neck isn't broken.
Most o' de time dey were put dere so dey could break dere necks."
_SOURCE_
Information from an interview with Mr. Prince Smith, who is supposed to
be over a hundred years of age, Wardmalaw Island, S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Nov. 29, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"Lawsey, honey chile, how does I know jes' when I was born. All sech as
dat don't mean nothing to us old slave time darkies. De mis'tus say,
'Silas, you sho was thirteen years old when dat 'Federate War wound up!
Dat's all I knows and dat's what I goes by. De white folks is worrying
'bout my age being in sech and sech a year and all de like of dat. No
sech as dat don't worry Silas, kaise he sho don't give it no mind, dat I
doesn't.
"Mis'tus call us all to set down on de side steps wid our hats in our
hands. She read dat paper. When she git through, us still sets, kaise no
writing never aggrevated us niggers way back dar. She wait a few
minutes; den she 'low: 'It means dat you all is free, jes' as free as I
is.' 'Dumpling Pie' jumped up and started crying. We all looked at him,
kaise he was a fat lazy thing dat laid around like dumplings a-laying
over kraut, and we axed him what he was crying for. He say, 'I ain't
gwine to be no free nigger, kaise dat brings in de Issue, and I wants to
keep my ma and pa, and what is I'm gwine to do widout Marse Dusey?'
"Dat woke us up. Didn't narry nigger on dat entire plantation know what
to do widout his marster. It was de awfulest feeling dat everything in
dem quarters laid down wid dat night, de new feeling dat day was free
and never had no marster to tell dem what to do. You felt jes' like you
had done strayed off a-fishing and got lost. It sho won't no fun to be
free, kaise we never had nothing.
"Next morning Mis'tus low, 'Silas, I wants you to keep on being my house
boy.' Dat sound de best to me of any news dat I had got. She hired me
and I jes' kept on den as I had been gwine befo'. De quarters broke up,
kaise Marse Dusey couldn't keep all dem niggers, so Mis'tus low'd. Marse
was at de war and Mis'tus took things on.
"Dat left only a few in de quarter. In de meantime, carpetbaggers and
scalawags had put devilment in some of dem ig'nant niggers and dey
thought dat if dey leave, de U.S. gwine to give dem a plantation atter
de war had ceased, and plenty mules to make dem rich, like quality white
folks. So by dat time dey was a-raring to git moved off. But I stay on
wid Miss Sallie, as I called her den.
"One dark, rainy cold day a stranger come riding up on a po' hoss and
fetched a note of sorrow. Marse Dusey had done died somewhars, and
Mis'tus was widowed to de ground. I stayed on, and in a year she died.
Mr. Thomas Smith of Hickory Grove is de onliest chile living of my
mis'tus, and he is 71 years old.
"Atter Mis'tus died, I went to live wid my pa on Mr. 'Baby' John Smith's
place. He had been my pa's marster. Way back den it was so many John
Smiths. 'Pears like it was mo' den dan now. Dat why dey call Mis'tus'
husband 'John Dusey'. Each John had a frill to his name so dat folks
could keep dem straight in deir minds whenever dey would speak of dem.
Mis'tus sho was good to me. I 'members her chilluns' names well; Misses
Aurita and Amenta. Miss Amenta married Mr. Sam Jeffries. Miss Rachael,
Mis'tus other daughter, married Mr. John Morrow. Her 'Baby' John married
a lady whose name I jes' disremembers, anyway dey had a son called
'Jeff'. He lived between Hickory Grove and Broad River. All dese Smiths
which I gives you renumeration of is de Hickory Grove Smiths. You jes'
has to keep dem straight yet."
Source: Silas Smith (N, 85), Gaffney, S.C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (11/27/37)
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, May 17, 1937=
=No. Words _____=
=Reduced from ____ words=
=Rewritten by=
=_____________=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 years.=
"Honey, my white folks been well-to-do peoples. Dey ain' been no poor
white trash. Dey hab 'stonishing blood in dey vein. I been b'long to
Massa Sam Stevenson wha' lib right down dere 'cross Ole Smith Swamp. Dey
ain' hab no chillun dey own, but dey is raise uh poor white girl dere,
Betty. Dey gi'e (give) she eve'yt'ing she ha'e en dey school she too."
"De ole man, he mind ain' been zactly right when he die. Dey say he bury
some o' he money down dere on he place jes 'fore he die. Coase I dunno
nuthin 'bout it, but dats wha' dey tell me. Dey say dey never is find
dat money a'ter he been dead. Reckon it dere yet, I dunno. Peoples
use'er aw de time be plough up kegs en box full o' money en va'uables
wha' de well-to-do folks been hide dere."
"De white peoples use'er bury dey silver en dey money en aw dey
va'uables late on uh evenin' er early on uh mornin' when de Yankees come
'bout. De Yankees 'stroy aw us white peoples va'uables wha' dey is see.
Um----dem Yankees sho' was 'structive whey dey is went."
"My ole mammy been Sally Stevenson 'fore she marry en den she wuz Sally
Bowens. My ole Missus take she 'way from her mammy when she wuz jes uh
little small girl en never wouldn't 'low her go in de colored
settlement no more. She been raise up in de white folks house to be de
house girl. Never didn't work none tall outside. She sleep on uh pallet
right down by de Missus bed. She sleep dere so she kin keep de Missus
kivver (cover) up aw t'rough de night. My mammy ain' never do nuthin but
been de house girl. My Missus larnt (learned) she how to cut en sew so
she been good uh seamstress is dere wuz anywhey. She help de Missus make
aw de plantation clothes en dere ain' never been no better washer en
ironer no whey den my ole mammy wuz."
"When I wuz uh little small girl, us lib right dere in my ole Missus
yard. Dey le' us chillun play aw us wanna den. Never did hadder do none
hard work tall. My Massa is some uh time send we chillun in de field to
scare de crow offen de corn. Ain' never been no hoe hand in me life.
When dey send we to scare de crow 'way, we is go in de field when fuss
(first) sun up en we is stay dere aw day. Coase we is come to de house
when 12 o'clock come en ge' we sumptin uh eat. Dese white folks 'round
here don' hab no chillun to scare de crow offen dey corn nowadays. Dey
has aw kind o' ole stick sot (set) 'bout in de field wid ole pant en
coat flying 'bout on dem to scare de crow 'way. Dere be plenty crow
'bout nowadays too. I hears em hollerin aw 'bout in dis sky 'round 'bout
here."
"I 'member when I use'er nu'se de white folks baby. I al'ays did lub to
nu'se de babies, but I didn't never lub to nu'se no ug'y baby. I lub to
hab uh pretty baby to nu'se. Didn't lak no boy baby neither. Don' lak
boy baby nohow. Lubbed little girl baby. Lubbed to take de little girls
en dress em up in dey pretty clothes en carry dem out under de trees to
'muse dem whey dere wuz plenty peoples 'bout to see em. Mammy al'ays 'ud
fuss at me 'bout puttin' on dey best clothes, but I ain' never do lak
dese nu'se do nowadays. I take care o' my babies, didn't never 'low em
wallow in de dirt lak yunnah see dese nu'se do 'bout here dese day en
time."
"I 'members one time I been nu'se little boy baby en I is larnt he hair
to curl jes uz pretty. I bresh he hair eve'y morning en twist it 'round
me finger en he is had pretty curl uz dere wuz anywhey. Never lak de
Missus to cut my baby hair off neither when I had larnt it to curl."
"I been lub to wash little baby clothes too. I is primp em up so nice.
Never did put no starch much in em. I do me best on em en when I ge'
t'rough, dey been look too nice to le' de child muss up."
"Honey, I can' stand no chillun fuss 'round me no more dese days. Don'
hab no chillun fuss 'round me peaceful little place. I tell aw me
chillun en grandchillun en great-grandchillun dat I can' stand no
chillun fuss 'round me no more. My Sammie, he marry three times en I ax
him why he wanna marry so many time. I ain' never see no man I is wan'
since my ole man die."
"I ain' wha' I use'er to be, child. I ain' able to do nuthin more now
but dem little bit o' clothes wha' Miss Betty hab. Coase she clothes
ain' hard to wash. Miss Betty mighty clean, honey, she mighty clean. She
don' strip she bed but eve'y udder week en den de sheet ain' dirty one
speck. She does wash she self eve'y day en de sheet don' ge' de crease
out dem from one time dey wash till de next. I say I gwinna wash Miss
Betty clothes jes uz long uz de Massa'll le' me em."
_Source_: Personal interview with Mom Jessie Sparrow,
age 83, colored, Marion, S.C., May 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date. May 24, 1937=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 years.=
"I dunno, child, I don' 'member nuthin more den I tell yuh de udder
time. Is yuh been to see Maggie Black yet? I dunno how old she, but I
know she been here. No, child, Maggie ain' dead. She lib right down dere
next Bethel Church. She move 'way from Miss Mullins house when Gus die.
Coase I ain' ne'er been in she house a'ter she move dere, but dey say
she hab uh mighty restful place dere. Dat wha' dey tell me. Maggie
oughta could tell yuh aw 'bout dem times. I ain' know nuthin more to
tell yuh. Don' tell yuh aw I know."
"Who my mammy wuz? My mammy been Sallie Stevenson 'fore she marry en den
a'ter she marry, she waz Sallie Bowens. Don' know whey dey ge' de Bowens
from cause my pa been b'long to be uh Evans. Dat how come Miss Betty
know so much 'bout me. She say we mighty nigh de same age. Coase I don'
never 'spute Miss Betty word, but I don' t'ink so."
"No, child, I dunno. Dunno how many chillun my mammy is hab. Dey aw been
die sech uh long time dat I don' forgot. Coase George, de carpenter, my
brother. He been train up by uh good carpenter man en Henry, wha' paint
aw dese house 'bout here, b'long to be annuder one uv we. It jes lak
'bout my own chillun, I ain' 'member how many dey wuz. I know dere 'bout
t'ree uv dem bigguns dead, but aw dem babies, Lawd, I ain' 'member how
many dere wuz. Can' never recollect nuthin 'bout how many dere been come
here."
"My mammy been de house girl in my white folks house. She marry when she
ain' but 13 year old. Dat wha' she tell me. She say she marry to ge'
outer de big house. Dat how come she to marry so soon. Say de white
folks take she way from she mammy when she won' but uh little small girl
en make she sleep right dere on uh pallet in de Missus room aw de time
'fore she marry. Coase a'ter she marry, she been de house girl right on
but she never stay in de Missus house when night come. Us chillun ain'
been 'low to stay in de big house. Dey hab uh room put on de kitchen fa
my mammy en she family to lib in. We chillun stay right dere in de yard
whey my mammy could look a'ter us in en 'round. My mammy hadder stay
'bout my ole Missus aw de day en help she cut en sew de plantation
clothes en wash en iron. Den she hadder help make quilts outer aw de
scrap dat been left o'er a'ter de garment was cut out."
"Us chillun been fed from de table right dere in de Missus kitchen en
some uv de time my mammy 'ud bring us sumptin to eat, wha' wuz cook in
de Missus kitchen, en le' us eat it in she room. Dey'ud gi'e us hominy
en milk en meat fa us break'ast. My white folks hadder uh lot uv cows en
dey'ud gi'e us chillun plenty milk en clabber to eat. We is hab milk en
clabber eve'y day en dey is gi'e us plenty meat to eat, so dey is dat.
Child, I ain' know no slack eatin' 'round my ole Missus. Some uv de time
we hab hoecake en den annuder time dey'ud gi'e us obben (oven) bread.
Dey cook eve'yt'ing on de fireplace in dem days, eve't'ing. Jes hab rods
put 'cross de fireplace in de kitchen wid pot hang on it. Dat whey dey
cook us ration. Dey'ud gi'e us t'ings lak peas en collards en meat fa we
dinner. Den dey'ud gi'e us uh big bowl uv corn bread en clabber late in
de evenin' cause jes lak I is call to yuh jes now, dey is use milk right
smart in dem days. I lak eve'yt'ing wha' dey is hab to eat den. Dey
never eat lak dese peoples eats nowadays. I won' larnt to lak aw kind uv
t'ing. Dey use'er cook poke salad wha' been season wid meat. Don' yuh
know wha' dat? Poke salad is come up jes lak dose weed out dere en dey
is cut de top offen dem en take aw de hard part outer em en den dey is
boil em uh long time wid meat. Dey is eat right good too. Don' lak
spinach en aw dat sumptin en don' lak celery neither. Don' lak butter
put in nuthin I eats. I laks me squash fried down brown lak wid grease
in de pan. I laks me beets wid uh little vinegay on em en season wid
some sugar sprinkle on em. Don' lak em jes wid nuthin but uh little salt
en butter smear aw o'er dem lak some uv dese peoples 'bout here eat em
nowadays."
"Yas'um, we use'er eat plenty uv em possum. Eve'y one dey is ketch, us
parent cook it. Us eat aw kinder wild animal den sech uz coon, possum,
rabbit, squirrel en aw dat. Hab plenty uv fish in dem days too. Hab pond
right next de white folks house en is ketch aw de fish dere dat we is
wan'. Some uv de time dey'ud fry em en den some uv de time dey'ud make
uh stew. Dey'ud put uh little salt en onion en grease in de stew en
anyt'ing dey been ge' hold uv."
"Massa Sam been hab uh heap uv colored peoples 'sides we, but dey lib up
on de hill in de quarters. My Missus, she see to it she self dat dey hab
good bed wha' to sleep on en plenty sumptin uh eat. She docker (doctor)
em when dey ge' sick too en she be mighty anxious ef dey sick mucha. Us
hab good clothes en shoes den too. Coase de peoples'ud wear more clothes
den, en dey'ud put on more undey shirt in de winter den dey wear in de
summer. My white folks'ud make de plantation clothes outer gingham en
jeanes cloth mostly. Dat jeanes cloth be wha' dey make little coat en
pant outer. Dat sumptin jes lak homespun."
"No, child, dey ain' ne'er gi'e us no money den. Never need no money
den. My Massa been provide eve't'ing us hab, honey, eve'yt'ing. We ain'
lak fa nuthin den. We chillun ain' been big 'nough to do nuthin but
scare de crow offen de corn en some uv de time my ole Missus'ud hab we
chillun sweepin' outer in de yard when she be out dere wid us."
"Yas'um, honey, my white folks al'ays'ud see dat dey colored peoples'ud
go to chu'ch (church) eve'y Sunday. We hadder walk dere to de white big
Methodist Chu'ch up de road en sot en de gallery. Yas'um de white folks
is stay down en we is go up. Ef we chillun never go, my ole Missus'ud
teach us de catechism right dere in de back yard. Hadder wash us face en
hand en come dere to she. Yas'um, I 'members dat aw right."
"My white folks'ud ride to chu'ch in dey big ole carriage en dey
driver'ud hab dey big black hosses bresh jes uz shiny. I forge' de
driver name. Dey hab uh pair uv dem black hosses wha' been match hosses
en dey is look jes lak. En den one day de ole Yankees is come t'rough
dere en dey is carry one uv dem 'way. A'ter dat dey hadder use one uv de
plantation hoss in de place uv dis carriage hoss. De Missus'ud al'ays
take my mammy in de carriage wid she too. Never left her home, so she
tell me. Jes stuff she down dere 'tween de seats somewhey."
_Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, colored, Marion, S.C.
Personal interview, May 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project No. 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, September 7, 1937=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 Years=
=Marion, S.C.=
"No, honey, dere ain' not a soul live here but me. Man stay in dat other
room dere just to be a little bit of company for me when night come. He
ain' not a speck of kin to me, not a speck. Oh, he pay me a little
somethin, but it not much. Mostly, I does want him for protection like.
Ain' got but just dis one room for myself cause dat part out dere does
be just like out in de yard. Dis Miss Mary Watson house en she tell me
stay on here dat de house ain' worth no fixin. Don' know how long I be
here. No, honey, I ain' got no property only just myself. Ain' got not a
bit. Ain' got nothin, child. I can' do no work dese days but dat little
bit of washin dat Miss Betty have en dat ain' nothin to depend on. Just
try to do a little somethin to help myself along. Nothin worth to speak
bout though."
"Miss Betty say we bout one age. My daddy belonged to Miss Betty father
en dat how-come she know dere ain' much difference in us age. My mammy
was de house 'oman on old man Sam Stevenson plantation en dat whe' I was
born. When we was freed, I was a little small girl en my daddy moved us
up here in town right over dere on de Gibson place. Fore den, when he
have a mind to see us, he had to come cross de swamp dere to old man Sam
Stevenson place en dat de reason he move us. He say it take too much
pains to keep dat gwine back en forth. I remembers I finished growin
right up here in dis town over dere on de Gibson place. My mammy have
task to cook dere en my daddy been de butler man, but I was small den.
Can' recollect much bout it. Reckon I wouldn' hardly know de place whe'
I was born if I go back dere now. De old man Sam Stevenson had nice
house, but it burn down long time back. Dey tell me dat de first court
de peoples in Marion did ever know bout meet right dere on dat same
spot. Coase I don' know nothin bout it, but dat what I hear dem say."
"My Massa had a big plantation, honey, a big plantation wid heap of
colored people house. I remember dey call up dat way from de house on de
hill en all de servants house set up dere. So I hear my mammy say she
know bout some white folks dat didn' half feed dey colored people en
didn' half clothe dem in de winter neither, but our white folks always
treat us mighty good. Put shoes on all us feet in de winter en give us
abundance of ration all de time."
"Honey, I hear dem talkin bout dat war, but I can' tell you nothin bout
dat. I recollects I see dem Yankees when dey come through my Massa
plantation en took his best carriage horse. Had two of dem big black
carriage horses dat was match horses en dem Yankees carry one of dem
away wid dem. I hear dem say de white folks would bury dey silver en
money in pots en barrels to hide dem from de Yankees. Oh, dem fiddlin
Yankees ax nobody nothin. Just go in de house en take dat what dey
wanted. Go right in de house en plunder round en take de peoples best
things. Wouldn' take no common things. Wasn' right, but dey done it. I
hear talk dat a man plowed up a chest or somethin another de other day
full of money, so dey tells me. I hear plenty peoples plow up all kind
of things dese days in old fields dat ain' been broke up or throwed out
for years. I hear so, but I know I ain' never found none though."
"I sho been here when dat shake come here, child. I been married ever
since I was a grown 'oman en I was stayin right over yonder in dat house
dere. My son Henry was de baby on me lap den en he tell me de other day
dat he was bout 50 now. It come like a wind right from dat way. Some
people tell me de ground was just a shakin en a mixin up, but I don'
know how de ground was doin cause I never go on it. I hear de
lumberation comin or dat what I calls it en it come long en hit de side
of de house so hard dat all de dishes was just a rattlin. Every time de
earth commence shakin, dem dish start jinglin. It come bout de early
part of de night. I didn' know what to think it was till somebody come
dere en say it been a earthquake. Say de ground was just a workin up. I
tell you I ain' know what it was to be scared of, but dere been de old
Ark (boarding house) standin cross de street den en dem people was
scared most to death. Dey thought it was de Jedgment comin on. Reckon I
would been scared worser den I was, but I didn' get on de ground. No,
honey, I reckon de house dat was standin up in dat day en time was
substantial like en it didn' worry none of dem."
"Is you seen Maggie Black any more? She been right sick, but she better
now. Yes, she been right puny. Don' know what ail her."
"Honey, what can you tell me bout dat white man dat been shoot up bout
Mullins de other day. I hear people talk bout a man been shot by another
man, but I ain' know nothin more den dat. Ain' hear none of de details
only as dey tell me dey catch de man dat got away next Dillon tryin to
get back home. I tell you it a bad place up dere in Mullins durin dis
tobacco time. Dey tell me dere be such a stir up dat people be rob en
shoot all bout dere. Dat de reason I stay back here whe' ain' nobody to
worry me. Some of dem be seekin for you when you sleep en den another
time dey get you when you gwine long de road. I don' like so much fuss
en rousin en mix up round me. Dat de reason I does stay here by myself."
"De people just livin too fast dis day en time, honey. You know some of
dese people, I mean my race, dey got a little bit of education en ain'
got no manners. I tell dem if dey ain' got no manners, dey ain' got
nothin cause manners carries people whe' a dollar won' carry you. Dis
education don' do everybody no good. It get some of dem standin on de
top of dey heads. Dat what it done to dem. Coase dey say everybody
chillun got to go to school dis year en dat a good thing cause dere be
so many runnin round makin mischief when dey ain' in school. I used to
tell my chillun I buy dey book en satchel en keep plenty meat en bread
for dem to eat en dey portion been to go dere en get dey learnin. If dey
get whippin at school, I tell dem go back en get more. Didn' never
entice dem to stay home."
"All I know bout Abraham Lincoln was dat he Abraham Lincoln en he de one
cause freedom. I recollect dey used to sing song bout him, but I done
forget it now. Say dey hung Abraham Lincoln on de sour apple tree or old
Jeff Davis or somethin like dat. Honey, dat all I know. Can' recollect
nothin more den dat bout it."
"Child, dis a pretty bad time de people got dese days, I tell you. Coase
I thankful don' nobody worry me. All treats me nice, both white en
black, what knows me. I be gwine down de street en folks come out de
courthouse en say, 'Ain dat Mom Jessie? Mom Jessie, don' you remember
me?' I say, 'I know your favor, but I can' call your name.' Dey tell me
en laugh en let me lone. It just like dis, child, I puts my trust in de
Lord en I lives mighty peaceful like. I ain' got a enemy in de world
cause everybody speaks appreciatively of me. Dere somebody bringin me
somethin to eat all de time en I don' be studyin bout it neither. First
one en den de other bring me a plate en somethin another. Don' want me
to do no cookin. Say I might fall in de fire. Honey, de lady come by
here de other day en tell me I gwine get de old 'oman money pretty soon
now dat dere been so much talk bout. I be thankful when it get here too,
child, cause I wants to get first one thing en de other to do some fixin
up bout my house."
"Well, honey, I tired now cause I ain' much today nohow. Can' recollect
nothin else dis mornin. Don' know what you want to hear bout all dem
things for nohow."
_Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, ex-slave, Bond Street,
Marion, S.C.--Third Report.
Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Sept., 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, December 7, 1937=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 Years=
"No, I ain' cold. I settin in de sun. Miss Ida, she went by here just
now en call at me bout de door been open en lettin dat cold wind blow in
on my back wid all de fire gone out. I tell her, it ain' botherin me
none, I been settin out in de sun. Well, I don' feel much to speak bout,
child, but I knockin round somehow. Miss Ida, she bring me dis paper to
study on. She does always be bringin me de Star cause she know dat I
love to see de news of Marion. It right sad bout de Presbyterian
preacher, but everybody got to die, I say. Right sad though. We hear dat
church bell here de other evenin en we never know what it been tollin
for. I holler over dere to Maggie house en ax her how-come de church
bell tollin, but she couldn' tell me nothin bout it. Reckon some chillun
had get hold of it, she say. I tell her, dat bell never been pull by no
chillun cause I been hear death note in it. Yes, honey, de people sho
gwine horne (grieve) after Dr. Holladay."
"I say, I doin very well myself en I thankful I ain' down in de bed.
Mighty thankful I ain' down in de bed en can set up en talk wid de
people when dey comes to see me. I ain' been up dere on your street in a
long time. Can' do much walkin dese days cause I ain' got no strength to
speak bout. Ain' been up town dere in bout two months. Mr. Jervey ax
John Evans what de matter dat I ain' been comin to de store to get my
rations en John Evans tell him I been under de weather. Somehow another,
dey all likes me up dere en when dey don' see me up town on Saturday,
dey be axin bout me. Mr. Jervey, he come here de other day en bring me
some tobacco en syrup en cheese en some of dem other things what he know
dat I used to buy dere. He tell me dey all was wantin to see me back up
dere again. I say, I can' go up dere cause I give way in my limbs en
just comes right down whe' I don' have nothin to catch to. Got dis old
stick here dat I balances myself on when I goes out round bout de house
here. Cose I don' venture to steady myself no far ways on it."
"No, child, I ain' been up your way in a long time. I wash for Miss
Betty all my best days, but I ain' been up to de house in many a mornin.
Miss Betty like myself now, she old. I tell dem up dere to de house, de
last time I talk wid dem, don' mind Miss Betty cause her mind ain' no
good. I say, just gwine on en do what you got to do en let Miss Betty
rest. You see, Miss Betty always would have her way en dis ain' no time
to think bout breakin her neither. Cose I don' know nothin bout it, but
Miss Betty say we bout one age."
"I reckon Miss Betty got plenty pecans dis year cause she does rake dem
up by de tubfuls bout dis time of de year. I got my share of dem last
year, but I ain' got no mind dat I gwine get any dis year less I go up
dere. Yes, mam, I got my share last year cause when I went to carry
Miss Betty washin home, I could pick up all I wanted while I come
through under de trees. My Lord, Miss Betty, she had a quantity of dem
last year, but I ain' hear what de crop doin dis year. I don' care
though cause I wouldn' eat dem nohow widout I beat dem up en I ain' in
no shape to go to all dat trouble. I loves peanuts good as anybody, but
I couldn' never chew dem widout dey was beat up."
"Honey, my child en her daughter comin from de northern states dis
Christmas to see me. Her name Evelyn, but dey call her Missie. She write
here dat she want to come en I tell my Sammie to send word dey is
welcome. Cose dey gwine stay wid my son, Sammie, cause dey got more room
den I is en dey got a cookin stove, too, but she gwine be in en out here
wid her old mammy off en on. Yes'um, I wants to see her mighty bad since
it be dat she been gone from here so long. When she first went up dere,
she worked for a white family dere to Hartford, Connecticut, but it won'
long fore she got in a fidget to marry en she moved dere to
Philadelphia. Dat whe' she livin now, so my Sammie tell me."
"Den dere another one of my chillun dat I say, I don' never 'spect to
see no more on dis side of de world. Evelina, she get married en go way
out west to live. She de one what used to nurse Lala up dere to Miss
Owens' house. My God, honey, she been crazy bout Lala. Don' care what
she been buy on a Saturday evenin, she would save some of it till
Monday to carry to dat child. My Evelina, she always would eat en she
used to bring Lala here wid her a heap of times to get somethin to eat.
She would come in en fetch her dat tin plate up dere full of corn bread
en molasses en den she would go to puttin dem ration way. Would put her
own mouth full en den she would cram some of it down Lala's mouth in de
child's belly. You see, I always would keep a nice kind of syrup in de
safe cause I don' like none dese kind of syrup much, but dis here ribbon
cane syrup. My Lord, dat child would stand up dere en eat just as long
as Evelina poke it down her. Oh, Lala been just a little thing plunderin
bout en I tell Evelina dat she ought not to feed dat child dem coarse
ration, but she say, 'Lala want some en I gwine give it to her cause I
loves her.' No, child, Miss Owens never didn' worry her mind bout whe'
Evelina been carry dat child. You see, she been put trust in Evelina."
"I don' know what to tell you, honey. I bout like Miss Betty now. My
'membrance short dese days. Oh, I hear talk bout all kind of signs de
people used to worry over en some of dem still frets bout dem, too. Hear
talk dat you mustn't wash none on de New Years' Day. It bad luck, so a
heap of dem say. Den some folks say it a sign of death to hear a owl
holler at night. Some people can' bear to hear dem, but don' no owls
worry me, I say. Lord, Maggie, dis child ax me how a owl holler when it
a sign of death. Well, dey does holler a right good space apart. Don'
holler right regular. I ain' hear one holler now in a long time, but I
used to hear dem be hollerin plenty times out dere somewhe' another in
dem trees. Say, when some people been hear dem holler on a night, dey
would stick a fire iron in de fire en dat would make de owl quit off. I
hear talk bout a lot of people would do dat. Den dere another sign de
people does have bout de New Years' Day. Reckon dat what dey call it, I
don' know. No, mam, I don' understand nothin bout it, but I does hear
people speak bout dey craves to get a cup of peas en a hunk of hog jowl
on de first day of de year. Say, dem what put faith in dem kind of
victuals on de New Years' Day, dey won' suffer for nothin no time all de
next year. Cose I don' know, but I say dat I eats it cause I loves it."
"Well, child, dat bout all I know to speak bout dis evenin. It gettin so
cold, I don' know whe' I can manage here much longer or no. Cose my
Sammie, he want me to go stay dere wid him, but I can' stand no chillun
fuss round me no more. I tell him dese people bout here be in en out to
ax bout me right smart en I think bout I better stay here whe' dere ain'
nobody to mind what I do. You see, honey, old people is troublesome en I
don' want to be noways burdensome to nobody. Yes, mam, I gwine be right
here waitin, if de Lord say so, de next time I see you makin up dat
path."
_Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, colored, Marion, S.C.
Personal interview by Annie R. Davis, Dec., 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, October 11, 1937=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 Years=
"Good morning, honey, I ain' much today. How you is? No, I can' talk
nothin bout dem times today. Ain' know no more den I done tell you. I
doin very well considerin I can' get bout like I wants to. Doin very
well, honey. Peoples mighty nice to me, white en black. Cose I don'
venture to get far off de lot, I be so poorly dese days. Ain' been bout
up town dere in a month since Saturday."
"Well, my chillun say for me to go live wid dem, but I don' want to go
down to dat other far end of de town. I tell dem dey worry me so dat I
think I rather be here in dis piece of house. See, I has such good
neighbors bout me here en dere be so much a fightin en gwine on in dat
other end of town. All de peoples speaks well of me, both white en
black, of dem dat knows me. Yes, mam, Miss Ellen tell me fore she die
for me to stay right here in dis house long as I live en ain' nobody is
gwine worry me neither. No, child, Miss Mary Watson don' worry me, not
one speck bout dis house. Miss Mary de only child dat Miss Ellen got
left here. No, honey, I ain' studyin bout gwine nowhe' yet. Cose de
house may fall down on me cause dat dere old kitchen over dere was good
when I come here, but it rot down. Dat how-come I ain' got no stove. De
kitchen rot down en de rain come in on de stove en rust it out. No, dey
don' worry me none. I tell dem I ain' got nothin, but I settin here just
as satisfied like. Cose I may get a little pension soon, but don' know
when it gwine get here. I ain' hear tell of nobody gettin it yet. I
tell lady dat come here if I get it, it be all right en if I don' get
it, dat be all right too."
"Big sale on today, ain' dere, child? I hear talk bout dey gwine sell
all de Witcover property en all dat, but I don' know. Dey sho got a
pretty day for it. I had on my old thick sweater, but it too hot. I had
to pull it off en put on dis here thin jacket. Can' go bout too naked,
honey."
"Yes'um, I know it was you come here de other night. Cose I can' see so
good, but I can hear de people voice en tell who dere time I hear dem
comin up dat path. You see, I don' light my lamp first night nohow, dere
be so much grass round here de mosquitoes comes in en worries me right
smart."
"Miss Foxworth en dem fixin to plant dey turnips over dere. Miss
Foxworth, I likes her very well to speak. She good-hearted, kind en
clever. She comes over en talks wid me often cause us been friends ever
since fore de old man been gone. Dey ain' got no kind of garden yet, but
dey fixin to plant a fall garden out dere."
"No, child, I done put Miss Betty clothes down. Tell her I ain' able to
wash no more en my Lord, Miss Betty sho hate to hear me say dat. Won'
dat Miss Betty clothes was so hard, but it was de totin dem back en
forth en den dere be so little bit of money in dem, didn' pay to hire
nobody to carry dem. Cose she didn' pay me nothin worth much cause she
didn' never have nothin much, but a little changin of underclothes en
bout one dress. Just had to starch bout one petticoat en one dress, but
I can' hardly wash for myself dese days en I wouldn' never venture to do
hers no more. No, honey, my conscience wouldn' allow me to overpower
Miss Betty for dem little bit of somethin en dey ain' dirty neither. You
see, since Miss Emma been stayin dere, she in charge de house en uses
all her tablecloths en such as dat. Miss Emma, she mighty nice to me.
Every time I go up dere en I ain' been doin nothin for her neither, she
see can she find a cup of fresh milk or somethin another to hand me."
"Reckon I gwine be lonesome right bout dis side next week cause all de
colored schools gwine be open up Monday. You see, dere be so many school
chillun en teacher livin on dis here street. Dat child over dere say she
gwine be home right sharp after she be finish pickin cotton next week. I
say I ain' be obliged to leave dis country cause my white folks wouldn'
never venture to come dere to dat other end of town to see me. All dese
chillun bout here mighty good to me. Don' never let me suffer for
nothin. Dey caution me not to risk to cook nothin over dat fireplace
cause dey say I might tumble over en can' catch myself. No, dey tell me
don' do no cookin, I might fall in en burn up. No, child, I ain' chance
to cook none on dat fireplace since I been sick. Different ones brings
me somethin dis day en dat day. Don' suspicion nothin bout it till I see
dem comin. Celeste over dere brings me breakfast en dinner every day en
I don' never bother wid no supper cause I lays down too early. Den dey
keeps me in plenty bread en rolls en I keeps a little syrup on hand en
eats dat if I gets hungry. Dere Marguerite all de time bringin me
somethin, if it ain' nothin but a pitcher of ice. You see, dey makes dey
ice en it ain' costin her nothin. When I see her turn out dat piazza, I
know she comin here. I ain' see her today, but I lookin for her. Used to
wash for dem too. Honey, I done a lot of work bout dis town en I don'
suffer for nothin. All de people bout here be good to me."
"No, mam, I ain' gwine let you take no more pictures. Ain' gwine take no
more. If Miss Montgomery say she comin here to take more pictures, tell
her I ain' gwine take no more. No, child, I ain' studyin bout no
pictures. I don' want no more. I got one big one up dere on de wall dat
show me en my mammy en my son, Sammie, settin in a automobile. Dat my
picture settin up dere wid de white blouse on. I tell dem I look like
somethin den, but I too old en broke up now. My daughter, she want a
picture en she kept on after us till we went up dere to whe' de carnival
was. Carnival man had a automobile dat he take your picture in en we get
in en set down en he snap de picture. I tell dem dey got one now en dat
ought to be sufficient. Dat my mammy settin dere by me. She was sho a
fine lookin woman. Lord, Lord, honey, dem chillun love dem pictures, but
I ain' studyin bout wantin my picture scatter all bout de country."
"Yes, child, I sleeps all right. Go to bed early too fore anybody else
round here do. Yes, mam, I goes to bed early en don' never get up none
till I see day shine in dem cracks. I was figurin somebody else ax me
dat de other day. Believe it was Dr. Dibble. My Sammie, he a mammy
child. He never stop till he send de doctor here to see could he find
out de ailment dat seem like was eatin me way. Dr. Dibble come here en
set down in dat chair en ax me a heap of questions. Den he test my blood
en give me a tonic dat he say would hope me. Yes, mam, dat my Sammie
doctor en he goes to see him often, he does have such a misery in his
head. Dat de first time Dr. Dibble ever been here, but I likes he manner
mighty well. Dr. Zack was a good doctor too. Cose dat what dey tell me,
but I ain' know nothin bout it. No, child, I been healthy all my days en
I ain' had to worry bout no doctor. I tells dem when I falls down, I
won' last long cause I been hearty all my days."
"Your sister still in Dr. Dibble store (office), ain' she? Is she got a
cook yet? Dat it, I glad she got somebody to depend on cause dese young
people, can' tell bout dem. Dey be one place today en den dey apt to be
another place de next day. I used to cook dere to lady house cross de
street, but I never didn' cook no Sunday dinner dere. Dat lady been take
in sewin en she would sew en press right on de big Sunday. I tell her
dat a sin en she say she had to get finish somehow dat de folks was
pushin her for dey clothes. I say, 'Well, dat you, ain' me.' I go dere
on Sunday mornin en cook breakfast en clean up en put wood in de
kitchen. Den I would go to church en left dem to cook what dinner dey
get. Dat de reason I won' cook for none dese white folks dis day en time
cause when dey pays you dat little bit of money, dey wants every bit
your time. I been proud when dat lady move from here cause I was tired
walkin de road back en forth. People come here en beg me to cook for
dem, but I tell dem I gwine stay right here en do my bit of washin.
Gwine get along somehow wid it."
"Bethel, down dere on de other side de jail, de only church I ever been
a member of. We got to fix us church twixt now en next year. It need
fixin bad. You see, it right on de Main street gwine down en does be
right public out to de people. I was fixin to go to church Sunday gone,
but my child never come after me. My son, Sammie, never show up, but he
come Sunday evenin laughin. Say, 'Ma, I know if I come by your house,
you would want to go wid me.' No, I ain' been so I able to go in four
Sundays."
"Child, you ought to had brought your parasol wid you cause you been
settin here so long, you gwine be late gettin whe' you started. Dis here
another hot day we got come here."
"Well, good-day, child. Speak bout how you is find Maggie Black to me
when you pass back long dat street dere."
_Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, ex-slave, 83 years, Marion, S.C.
Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, October, 1937.
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=ROSA STARKE=
=_EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD._=
Rosa's grandfather was a slave of Solicitor Starke. Although she has had
two husbands since slavery, she has thrown their names into the discard
and goes by the name of Rosa Starke. She lives in a three-room frame
house with her son, John Harrison, two miles south of Winnsboro, S.C.,
on the plantation of Mrs. Rebecca V. Woodward. She still does farm work,
hoeing and picking cotton.
"They say I was six years old when de war commence poppin' in
Charleston. Mammy and pappy say dat I was born on de Graham place, one
of de nineteen plantations of my old marster, Nick Peay, in 1854. My
pappy was name Bob and my mammy name Salina. They had b'longed to old
Marse Tom Starke befo' old Marse Nick bought them. My brudders was name
Bob and John. I had a sister name Carrie. They was all older than me.
"My marster, Nick Peay, had nineteen places, wid a overseer and slave
quarters on every place. Folks dat knows will tell you, dis day, dat
them nineteen plantations, in all, was twenty-seven thousand acres. He
had a thousand slaves, more or less, too many to take a census of. Befo'
de numerator git 'round, some more would be born or bought, and de
nominator had to be sent 'round by Marse Nick, so old Miss Martha, our
mistress, say. Her never could know just how many 'twas. Folks used to
come to see her and ask how many they had and her say it was one of them
sums in de 'rithmetic dat a body never could take a slate and pencil and
find out de correct answer to.
"Her was a Adamson befo' her marry old marster, a grand big buckra. Had
a grand manner; no patience wid poor white folks. They couldn't come in
de front yard; they knowed to pass on by to de lot, hitch up deir hoss,
and come knock on de kitchen door and make deir wants and wishes knowed
to de butler.
"You wants me to tell 'bout what kind of house us niggers live in then?
Well, it 'pend on de nigger and what him was doin'. Dere was just two
classes to de white folks, buckra slave owners and poor white folks dat
didn't own no slaves. Dere was more classes 'mongst de slaves. De fust
class was de house servants. Dese was de butler, de maids, de nurses,
chambermaids, and de cooks. De nex' class was de carriage drivers and de
gardeners, de carpenters, de barber, and de stable men. Then come de
nex' class de wheelwright, wagoners, blacksmiths and slave foremen. De
nex' class I 'members was de cow men and de niggers dat have care of de
dogs. All dese have good houses and never have to work hard or git a
beatin'. Then come de cradlers of de wheat, de threshers, and de millers
of de corn and de wheat, and de feeders of de cotton gin. De lowest
class was de common field niggers. A house nigger man might swoop down
and mate wid a field hand's good lookin' daughter, now and then, for
pure love of her, but you never see a house gal lower herself by
marryin' and matin' wid a common field-hand nigger. Dat offend de white
folks, 'specially de young misses, who liked de business of match makin'
and matin' of de young slaves.
"My young marsters was Marse Tom, Marse Nick, and Marse Austin. My young
misses was Miss Martha, Miss Mary, and Miss Anne Eliza. I knows Marse
Nick, Jr. marry a Cunningham of Liberty Hill. Marse Tom marry a Lyles
and Marse Austin marry and move to Abbeville, after de war. Old marster
die de year befo' de war, I think, 'cause my mammy and pappy fell in de
division to Marse Nick and us leave de Graham place to go to de home
place. It was called de Melrose place. And what a place dat was! 'Twas
on a hill, overlookin' de place where de Longtown Presbyterian Church
and cemetery is today. Dere was thirty rooms in it and a fish pond on
top of it. A flower yard stretchin' clean down de hill to de big road,
where de big gate, hangin' on big granite pillars, swung open to let de
carriages, buggies, and wagons in and up to de house.
"Can I tell you some of de things dat was in dat house when de Yankees
come? Golly no! Dat I can't, but I 'members some things dat would
'stonish you as it 'stonished them. They had Marseille carpets, linen
table cloths, two silver candlesticks in every room, four wine
decanters, four nut crackers, and two coffee pots, all of them silver.
Silver castors for pepper, salt, and vinegar bottles. All de plates was
china. Ninety-eight silver forks, knives, teaspoons and table-spoons.
Four silver ladles, six silver sugar tongs, silver goblets, a silver
mustard pot and two silver fruit stands. All de fireplaces had brass
firedogs and marble mantelpieces. Dere was four oil paintin's in de
hall; each cost, so Marse Nick say, one hundred dollars. One was his ma,
one was his pa, one was his Uncle Austin and de other was of Colonel
Lamar.
"De smoke-house had four rooms and a cellar. One room, every year, was
filled wid brown sugar just shoveled in wid spades. In winter they would
drive up a drove of hogs from each plantation, kill them, scald de hair
off them, and pack de meat away in salt, and hang up de hams and
shoulders 'round and 'bout de smokehouse. Most of de rum and wine was
kep' in barrels, in de cellar, but dere was a closet in de house where
whiskey and brandy was kep' for quick use. All back on de east side of
de mansion was de garden and terraces, acres of sweet 'taters, water
millions (watermelons) and strawberries and two long rows of beehives.
"Old marster die. De 'praisers of de State come and figure dat his
mules, niggers, cows, hogs, and things was worth $200,000.00. Land and
houses I disremember 'bout. They, anyhow, say de property was over a
million dollars. They put a price of $1,600.00 on mammy and $1,800.00 on
pappy. I 'member they say I was worth $400.00. Young Marse Nick tell us
dat the personal property of de estate was 'praised at $288,168.78.[A]
"De Yankees come set all de cotton and de gin-house afire. Load up all
de meat; take some of de sugar and shovel some over de yard; take all de
wine, rum, and liquor; gut de house of all de silver and valuables, set
it afire, and leave one thousand niggers cold and hongry, and our white
folks in a misery they never has got over to de third generation of
them. Some of them is de poorest white folks in dis State today. I weeps
when I sees them so poor, but they is 'spectable yet, thank God.
"After de war I stuck to de Peay white folks, 'til I got married to Will
Harrison. I can't say I love him, though he was de father of all my
chillun. My pappy, you know, was a half white man. Maybe dat explain it.
Anyhow, when he took de fever I sent for Dr. Gibson, 'tend him faithful
but he die and I felt more like I was free, when I come back from de
funeral, than I did when Marse Abe Lincoln set us free. My brudder, Bob,
had done gone to Florida.
"I nex' marry, in a half-hearted way, John Pearson, to help take care of
me and my three chillun, John, Bob, and Carrie. Him take pneumonia and
die, and I never have a speck of heart to marry a colored man since. I
just have a mind to wait for de proper sort, till I git to heaven, but
dese adult teachers 'stroy dat hope. They read me dat dere is no
marryin' in heaven. Well, well, dat'll be a great disappointment to some
I knows, both white and black, and de ginger-cake women lak me.
"Is I got any more to tell you? Just dis: Dere was 365 windows and doors
to Marse Nick Peay's house at Melrose, one for every day in de year, my
mistress 'low. And dere was a peach tree in de orchard so grafted dat
dat peach tree have ripe peaches on it in May, June, July, August,
September, and October."
[A] Probate records of Fairfield County. See Roll 110 of the Judge of
Probate for Fairfield County.
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=JOSEPHINE STEWART=
=_EX-SLAVE 85 YEARS OLD._=
Phinie Stewart, as she is known in the community where she lives, is a
small, black negress, who shows her age in appearance and movements. She
lives with Robert Wood, a hundred yards back of the Presbyterian Church
manse at Blackstock, S.C. Robert Wood married Phinie's niece, who is now
deceased. Phinie has no property, and depends entirely on the charity of
Robert Wood for her support.
"Does you know where de old Bell House is, about a mile de other side of
Blackstock, on de Chester road? Yes? Well, dere is where I was borned,
in May, 1853.
"I doesn't know who my pappy was. You know in them times folks wasn't
particular 'bout marriage licenses and de preacher tying de knot and all
dat kind of thing. But I does know mammy's name. Her name was Celie.
Dese eyes of mine is dim but I can see her now, stooping over de wash
tub and washing de white folks' clothes every Monday and Tuesday.
"Us belonged to Marster Charlie Bell and his lady, Miss Maggie Bell, our
mistress in them slavery days. Does I 'member who Miss Maggie was befo'
her married Marster Charlie? Sure I does. Mistress was a daughter of
Miss Anne Jane Neil, who lived to be a hundred and five years old, and
its writ on her tombstone in Concord Cemetery. I 'spect you has seen it,
ain't you? Old Miss Anne Neil was a Irish lady, born in Ireland across
de ocean. She had a silver snuff box; I seen it. She'd take snuff out
dat box, rub it up her nose and say: 'De Prince of Whales (Wales) give
me dis box befo' I come to dis country, and I was presented to his ma,
Queen Victoria, by de Duke of Wellington on my sixteenth birthday.' Old
Miss Anne Neil claims she was born over dere de very night of de battle
of Waterloo. And she would go on and 'low dat when de duke took her by
de hand and led her up to de queen, him say: 'Your Majesty, dis young
lady was born on de night of our great victory at Waterloo.'
"My young mistress was named Miss Margaret. She married Marse Wade
Brice. I was give to them when I was 'bout five years old and I went
along with them to Woodward, S.C. My mammy was give to them, too, at de
same time. Us lived in Marse Wade's quarter, to de east of de white
folks' house. Dere was a row of log houses, 'bout ten I think. Mammy and
me lived in one dat had two rooms. De chimney was made of sticks and
mud, but de floor was a good plank floor. De bed was a wood bedstead wid
a wheat straw tick. Dere was no windows to de house, so it was warm in
de winter time and blue blazing hot in de summer time.
"My white folks was mighty good to us; they fed us well. Us had wooden
shoes and no clothes a-tall in de summer, 'cept a one-piece slip on. My
mistress die 'bout a year after her marry, and then Marster Wade marry
Miss Tilda Watson, a perfect angel, if dere ever was one on dis red
earth. She take a liking to me right at de jump, on first sight. I
nussed all her chillun. They was Walter, Ida, Dickey, Lunsford, Wade,
Mike, and Wilson. Then I nussed some of her grandchillun. Mr. Brice
Waters in Columbia is one of them grandchillun.
"Marse Wade went off to de war and got shot in de hip, but he jined de
calvary (cavalry) soon after and was away when de Yankees come through.
De Yankees burned and stole everything on de place. They took off all de
sheep, mules, and cows; killed all de hogs; cotch all de chickens, ducks
and geese; and shot de turkeys and tied them to deir saddles as they
left. De gin-house made de biggest blaze I ever has seen. Dere was short
rations for all de white folks and niggers after dat day.
"In 1870 I was still dere wid Marse Wade and Miss Tilda, when de devil
come along in de shape, form, and fashion of a man. He was name Simon
Halleg. I was young then, and a fool, when I married dat no 'count
nigger. Us had two chillun, a boy, Allen, and a girl, Louise. Louise
sickened and died befo' she was grown. Allen married and had one child,
but him and de child are dead. My husband run away and left us.
"About de time of de great cyclone, Miss Tatt Nicholson, a cousin of
Miss Tilda, come down and took me to Chester, to be a maid at de
Nicholson Hotel. I liked de work, but I got many a scare while I was
dere. In them days every hotel had a bar where they would mix whiskey
and lemons. Men could just walk up, put deir foots on de brass rail of
de bar counter and order what they want, and pay fifteen cents a drink.
Sometimes they would play cards all night in de bar. One night an old
gent stopped his wagon, dat had four bales of cotton on it, befo' de
hotel. He come in to get a drink, saw a game going on and took a hand.
Befo' bed time he had lost all his money and de four bales of cotton
outside.
"No, I didn't work in slavery times. Chillun didn't have to work. De
only thing I 'members doing was minding de flies off de table wid a
brush made out of peacock tail-feathers.
"All de slaves had to go to church at Concord twice every month and
learn de Shorter Catechism. I has one of them books now, dat I used
seventy-five years ago. Want to see it? (She exhibits catechism printed
in 1840 for slaves.)
"I left de hotel and come back to Miss Tilda Brice. I married Jacob
Stewart then, and he was a good man. Us had no chillun. He been gone to
glory eight years, bless God.
"Yes, sir, I 'members de earthquake. It set a heap of people to praying
dat night. Even de cows and chickens got excited. I thought de end of de
world had come. I jined de Red Hill Baptist Church then, but my
membership is now at de Cross Roads Baptist Church. Brother Wright, de
pastor, comes to see me, as I'm too feeble to gallivant so far to
church.
"Dis house b'longs to Joe Rice. My nephew rents from him and is good
enough, though a poor man, to take care of me.
"Please do all you can to get de good President, de Governor, or
somebody to hasten up my old age pension dat I'm praying for."
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=May 24, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I was born near old Bush River Baptist Church in Newberry County, S.C.
This was the white folks' church, but the colored folks have a Bush
River church in that section now. I was grown when the war started. I
was a slave of Bonny Floyd. He was a good man who owned several slaves
and a big farm. I was the house-girl then, and waited on the table and
helped around the house. I was always told to go to the white folks'
church and sit in the gallery.
"When the Patrollers was started there, they never did bother Mr.
Bonny's slaves. He never had any trouble with them, for his slaves never
run away from him.
"The Ku Klux never come to our place, and I don't remember seeing them
in that section.
"We took our wheat to Singley's Mill on Bush River to be ground. We made
all our flour and grain. We plowed with horses and mules.
"I am an old woman, sick in bed and can't talk good; but glad to tell
you anything I can."
Source: Bettie Suber (96), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (5/18/37).
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=May 25, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I was born on the Enoree River in Newberry County. Tom Price was my
master. I married Nathan Swindler when I was about grown. My father and
mother was Dave and Lucy Coleman. I had a brother and several sisters.
We children had to work around the home of our master 'till we was old
enough to work in de fields, den we would hoe and pick cotton, and do
any kinds of field work. We didn't have much clothes, just one dress and
a pair of shoes at a time, and maybe one change. I married in a ole silk
striped dress dat I got from my mistress, Miss Sligh. We had no
'big-to-do' at our wedding, just married at home. In cold weather, I had
sometimes, heavy homespun or outing dress. When Saturday afternoons
come, we got off from work and do what we want. Some of us washed for de
week. We had no schools and couldn't read and write. Sometimes we could
play in our yards after work was over or on Saturday afternoons. On
Christmas the master give us something good to eat. We didn't have
doctors much, but de ole folks had cures for sickness. Dey made
cherry-bark tea for chills and fever, and root-herb teas for fevers.
Lots of chills and fevers then. To cure a boil or wart, we would take a
hair from the tail of a horse and tie it tight around both sides of the
sore place. I think Abe Lincoln was a great man, and Jeff Davis was a
good man too. I think Booker Washington was a great man for de colored
race. I like it better now than de way it was in slavery time."
Source: Ellen Swindler (78), Newberry. S.C. Interviewed by:
G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C., May 20, 1937.
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon,=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=MACK TAYLOR=
=_EX-SLAVE 97 YEARS._=
Mack Taylor lives six miles southeast of Ridgeway, S.C., on his farm of
ninety-seven acres. The house, in which he resides, is a frame house
containing six rooms, all on one floor. His son, Charley, lives with
him. Charley is married and has a small family.
"Howdy do sir! I sees you a good deal goin' backwards and forwards to
Columbia. I has to set way back in de bus and you sets up to de front. I
can't ketch you to speak to you, as you is out and gone befo' I can lay
hold of you. But, as Brer Fox 'lowed to Brer Rabbit, when he ketched him
wid a tar baby at a spring, 'I is got you now.'
"I's been wantin' to ask you 'bout dis old age pension. I's been to
Winnsboro to see 'bout it. Some nice white ladies took my name and ask
me some questions, but dat seem to be de last of it. Reckon I gwine to
get anything?
"Well, I's been here mighty nigh a hundred years, and just 'cause I
pinched and saved and didn't throw my money away on liquor, or put it
into de palms of every Jezabel hussy dat slant her eye at me, ain't no
valuable reason why them dat did dat way and 'joyed deirselves can get
de pension and me can't get de pension. 'Tain't fair! No, sir. If I had
a knowed way back yonder, fifty years ago, what I knows now, I might of
gallavanted 'round a little more wid de shemales than I did. What you
think 'bout it?
"You say I's forgittin' dat religion must be thought about? Well, I can
read de Bible a little bit. Don't it say: 'What you sow you sure to
reap?' Yes, sir. Us niggers was fetched here 'ginst our taste. Us fell
de forests for corn, wheat, oats, and cotton; drained de swamps for
rice; built de dirt roads and de railroads; and us old ones is got a
fair right to our part of de pension.
"My marster, in slavery times, lived on de Wateree River. He had a large
plantation and, I heard them say, four hundred slaves. He was a hard
marster and had me whipped as many times as I got fingers and toes. I
started workin' in de field when I was a boy fifteen years old. De work
I done was choppin' de grass out of de cotton and pickin' de cotton.
What's become of them old army worms dat had horns, dat us chillun was
so scared of while pickin' cotton? I never see them dese days but I'd
rather have them than dis boll weevil I's pestered wid.
"My marster's name was Tom Clark. My mistress was a gentle lady, but
field niggers never got to speak to her. All I can say is dat de house
slaves say she was mighty good to them. I saw de chillun of de white
folks often and was glad they would play wid us colored chillun. What
deir names? Dere was Marse Alley, Marse Ovid, Marse Hilliard, and Miss
Lucy.
"Old marster got kilt in de last year of de war, and Miss Margaret, dat
was our Mistress, run de place wid overseers dat would thrash you for
all sorts of things. If they ketch you leanin' on your hoe handle,
they'd beat you; step out of your task a minute or speak to a girl,
they'd beat you. Oh, it was hell when de overseers was around and de
mistress nor none of de young marsters was dere to protect you. Us was
fed good, but not clothed so good in de winter time.
"My pappy didn't b'long to de Clarks at de commencement of de war. Old
marster done sold him, 'way from us, to Col. Tom Taylor in Columbia.
After de war, he run a shoe repair shop in Columbia many years befo' he
died. His name was Douglas Taylor and dat is de reason I took de name,
Mack Taylor, when I give in my name to de Freedman's Bureau, and I's
stuck to it ever since.
"I members de Yankees. Not many of them come to Miss Margaret's place.
Them dat did, took pity on her and did nothing but eat, feed deir
horses, and gallop away.
"Us was never pestered by de Ku Klux, but I was given a warnin' once, to
watch my step and vote right. I watched my step and didn't vote a-tall,
dat year.
"Mr. Franklin J. Moses was runnin' for governor. Colored preachers was
preachin' dat he was de Moses to lead de Negroes out of de wilderness of
corn bread and fat grease into de land of white bread and New Orleans
molasses. De preachers sure got up de excitement 'mongst de colored
women folks. They 'vised them to have nothin' to do wid deir husbands if
they didn't go to de 'lection box and vote for Moses. I didn't go, and
my wife wouldn't sleep wid me for six months. I had no chillun by her.
She died in 1874. After Nancy die, I marry Belle Dawkins. De chillun us
had was George, Charley, Maggie and Tommy. Then Belle died, and I
married Hannah Cunningham. Us had no chillun. After she died, I marry a
widow, Fannie Goings, and us had no chillun.
"My son, George, is in Washington. My daughter, Maggie, is dead. Tommy
was in Ohio de last I heard from him. I is livin' wid my son, Charley,
on my farm. My grandson, Mack, is a grown boy and de main staff I lean
on as I climb up to de hundred mile post of age.
"I b'longs to de Rehovah Baptist Church. I have laid away four wives in
deir graves. I have no notion of marryin' any more. Goodness and mercy
have followed me all de days of my life, and I will soon take up dis old
body and dwell in de house of de Lord forevermore."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=DELIA THOMPSON=
=_EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD._=
"I's heard tell of you, and sent for you to come to see me. Look lak I
can no more git 'bout on dese under pins lak I use to. Dere's de swing
you can set in or chair right by me, now which you rather? I's glad you
takes de chair, 'cause I can keep steady gaze more better on dat face of
your'n. Lord! I been here in dis world a long time, so I has. Was born
on de Kilgo place near Liberty Hill, don't know what county 'tis, but
heard it am over twenty-five miles from dis town.
"My old marster name Jesse Kilgo, so he was, and Mistress Letha Kilgo,
dats his wife, good to him, good to me, good to everybody. My young
mistress name Catherine, when her marry Marster Watt Wardlaw, I was give
to them for a housemaid, 'cause I was trim and light complected lak you
see I is dis very day a setting right here, and talking wid you.
'Members how 'twas young missie say: 'You come go in my room Delia, I
wants to see if I can put up wid you'. I goes in dat room, winter time
mind you, and Miss Charlotte set down befo' de fire, cook one of them
pretty foots on de dog, don't you ketch dat wrong, dat it was a lap dog
which 'twasn't but one of de fire-dogs. Some persons calls them andy
irons (andiron) but I sticks to my raisin' and say fire-dogs. Well, she
allowed to me, 'Delia, put kettle water on de fire'. So I does in a
jiffy. Her next command was: 'Would you please be so kind as to sweep
and tidy up de room'? All time turnin' dat lovely head of her'n lak a
bird a buildin' her nest, so it was. I do all dat, then she say: 'You is
goin' to make maid, a good one!' She give a silvery giggle and say: 'I
just had you put on dat water for to see if you was goin' to make any
slop. No, No! You didn't spill a drop, you ain't goin' to make no
sloppy maid, you just fine.' Then her call her mother in. 'See how
pretty Delia's made dis room, look at them curtains, draw back just
right, observe de pitcher, and de towels on de rack of de washstand, my
I'm proud of her!' She give old mistress a hug and a kiss, and thank her
for de present, dat present was me. De happiness of dat minute is on me
to dis day.
"My pappy name Isom then, but when freedom come he adds on Hammond. His
pappy was a white man, and no poor white trash neither. My mammy name
Viny. Us live in a log house close up in de back yard, and most all time
I was in de big house waiting on de white folks.
"Did us git any 'ligion told us? Well, it was dis way, mistress talk
heap to us 'bout de Lord, but marster talk a heap to us 'bout de devil.
'Twist and 'tween them, 'spect us heard most everything 'bout heaven and
all 'bout de devil.
"Yankees dat come to our house was gentleman, they never took a thing,
but left provisions for our women folks from their commissary.
"My first husband was Cupid Benjamin. My white folks give me a white
dress, and they got de white Baptist preacher, Mr. Collins to do de
grand act for us. Cupid turned out to be a preacher. Us had three
chillun and every night us had family worship at home. I's been no
common nigger all my life; why, when a child I set up and rock my doll
just lak white chillun, and course it was a rag doll, but what of dat.
Couldn't I name her for de Virgin Mary, and wouldn't dat name cover and
glorify de rags? Sure it would! Then I 'sociate wid white folks all
slavery time, marry a man of God and when he die, I marry another, Tom
Thompson, a colored Baptist preacher. You see dat house yonder? Dats
where my daughter and grandchillun live. They is colored aristocracy of
de town, but they has a mighty plain name, its just Smith. I grieve over
it off and on, a kind of thorn in de flesh, my husband used to say. But
both my husbands dead and I sets here twice a widow, and I wonders how
'twill be when I go home up yonder 'bove them white thunder heads us can
see right now. Which one them men you reckon I'll see first? Well, if it
be dat way, 'spect I'll just want to see Cupid first, 'cause he was de
only one I had chillun by, and them his grandchillun out yonder."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=ROBERT TOATLEY=
=_EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD._=
Robert Toatley lives with his daughter, his son, his son's wife, and
their six children, near White Oak, seven miles north of Winnsboro, S.C.
Robert owns the four-room frame house and farm containing 235 acres. He
has been prosperous up from slavery, until the boll weevil made its
appearance on his farm and the depression came on the country at large,
in 1929. He has been compelled to mortgage his home but is now coming
forward again, having reduced the mortgage to a negligible balance,
which he expects to liquidate with the present 1937 crop of cotton.
Robert is one of the full blooded Negroes of pure African descent. His
face, in repose, possesses a kind of majesty that one would expect in
beholding a chief of an African tribe.
"I was born on de 'Lizabeth Mobley place. Us always called it 'Cedar
Shades'. Dere was a half mile of cedars on both sides of de road leading
to de fine house dat our white folks lived in. My birthday was May 15,
1855. My mistress was a daughter of Dr. John Glover. My master married
her when her was twelve years old. Her first child, Sam, got to be a
doctor, and they sho' did look lak brother and sister. When her oldest
child, Sam, come back from college, he fetched a classmate, Jim
Carlisle, wid him. I played marbles wid them. Dat boy, Jim, made his
mark, got 'ligion, and went to de top of a college in Spartanburg. Marse
Sam study to be a doctor. He start to practice and then he marry Miss
Lizzie Rice down in Barnwell. Mistress give me to them and I went wid
them and stayed 'til freedom.
"My childhood was a happy one, a playin' and a rompin' wid de white
chillun. My master was rich. Slaves lived in quarters, 300 yards from de
big house. A street run through the quarters, homes on each side. Beds
was homemade. Mattresses made of wheat straw. Bed covers was quilts and
counter-panes, all made by slave women.
"My mammy's pappy was a slave brick-mason, b'longin' to a white family
named Partillo, from Warrington, Virginia. He couldn't be bought 'less
you bought his wife and three chillun wid him.
"Never had any money; didn't know what it was. Mammy was a house woman,
and I got just what de white chillun got to eat, only a little bit
later, in de kitchen. Dere was fifty or sixty other little niggers on de
place. Want to know how they was fed? Well, it was lak dis: You've seen
pig troughs, side by side, in a big lot? After all de grown niggers eat
and git out de way, scraps and everything eatable was put in them
troughs; sometimes buttermilk poured on de mess and sometimes potlicker.
Then de cook blowed a cow horn. Quick as lightnin' a passle of fifty or
sixty little niggers run out de plum bushes, from under de sheds and
houses, and from everywhere. Each one take his place, and souse his
hands in de mixture and eat just lak you see pigs shovin' 'round slop
troughs. I see dat sight many times in my dreams, old as I is,
eighty-two years last Saturday.
"'Twas not 'til de year of '66 dat we got 'liable info'mation and felt
free to go where us pleased to go. Most of de niggers left but mammy
stayed on and cooked for Dr. Sam and de white folks.
"Bad white folks comed and got bad niggers started. Soon things got
wrong and de devil took a hand in de mess. Out of it come to de top, de
carpetbag, de scalawags and then de Ku Klux. Night rider come by and
drap something at your door and say: 'I'll just leave you something for
dinner'. Then ride off in a gallop. When you open de sack, what you
reckon in dere? Liable to be one thing, liable to be another. One time
it was six nigger heads dat was left at de door. Was it at my house
door? Oh, no! It was at de door of a nigger too active in politics. Old
Congressman Wallace sent Yankee troops, three miles long, down here. Lot
of white folks was put in jail.
"I married Emma Greer in 1879; she been dead two years. Us lived husband
and wife 56 years, bless God. Us raised ten chillun; all is doin' well.
One is in Winnsboro, one in Chester, one in Rock Hill, one in Charlotte,
one in Chesterfield, one in New York and two wid me on de farm near
White Oak, which I own. I has 28 grandchillun. All us Presbyterians. Can
read but can't write. Our slaves was told if ever they learned to write
they'd lose de hand or arm they wrote wid.
"What 'bout whuppin's? Plenty of it. De biggest whuppin' I ever heard
tell of was when they had a trial of several slave men for sellin'
liquor at da spring, durin' preachin', on Sunday. De trial come off at
de church 'bout a month later. They was convicted, and de order of de
court was: Edmund to receive 100 lashes; Sam and Andy each 125 lashes
and Frank and Abram 75 lashes. All to be given on deir bare backs and
rumps, well laid on wid strap. If de courts would sentence like dat dese
days dere'd be more 'tention to de law.
"You ask me 'bout Mr. Lincoln. I knowed two men who split rails side by
side wid him. They was Mr. McBride Smith and Mr. David Pink. Poor white
people 'round in slavery time had a hard tine, and dese was two of them.
"My white folks, de Mobleys, made us work on Sunday sometime, wid de
fodder, and when de plowin' git behind. They mighty neighborly to rich
neighbors but didn't have much time for poor buckra. I tell you poor
white men have poor chance to rise, make sump'n and be sump'n, befo' de
old war. Some of dese same poor buckra done had a chance since then and
they way up in 'G' now. They mighty nigh run de county and town of
Winnsboro, plum mighty nigh it, I tell you. It makes me sad, on de other
side, to see quality folks befo' de war, a wanderin' 'round in rags and
tatters and deir chillun beggin' bread.
"Well, I mus' be goin', but befo' I goes I want to tell you I 'members
your ma, Miss Sallie Woodward. Your grandpa was de closest neighbor and
fust cousin to Dr. Sam. Deir chillun used to visit. Your ma come down
and spen' de day one time. She was 'bout ten dat day and she and de
chillun make me rig up some harness for de billy goat and hitch him to a
toy wagon. I can just see dat goat runnin' away, them little chillun
fallin' out backside de wagon and your ma laughin' and a cryin' 'bout de
same time. I picks her up out de weeds and briars."
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=May 25, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=SLAVERY REMINISCENCES=
"I was born in the town of Newberry, S.C. I do not remember slavery
time, but I have heard my father and mother talk about it. They were
Washington and Polly Holloway, and belonged to Judge J.B. O'Neall. They
lived about 3 miles west of town, near Bush River. An old colored man
lived nearby. His name was Harry O'Neall, and everybody said he was a
miser and saved up his money and buried it near the O'Neall spring.
Somebody dug around there but never found any money. There were two
springs, one was called 'horse spring', but the one where the money was
supposed to be buried had a big tree by it.
"I married Sam Veals, in 'gravel town' of Newberry. I had a brother,
Riley, and some sisters.
"We would eat fish, rabbits, 'possums and squirrels which folks caught
or killed. We used to travel most by foot, going sometimes ten miles to
any place. We walked to school, three or four miles, every day when I
was teaching school after the war. I was taught mostly at home, by Miss
Sallie O'Neall, a daughter of Judge J.B. O'Neall.
"My father and mother used to go to the white folks' church, in slavery
time. After the war colored churches started. The first one in our
section was Brush Harbor. Simon Miller was a fine colored preacher who
preached in Brush Harbor on Vandalusah Spring Hill. Isaac Cook was a
good preacher. We used to sing, 'Gimme dat good ole-time religion'; 'I'm
going to serve God until I die' and 'I am glad salvation is free'.
"Saturday afternoons we had 'off' and could work for ourselves. At
marriages, we had frolics and big dinners. Some of the games were: rope
jumping; hide and seek, and, ring around the roses. Of course, there
were more games.
"Some of the old folks used to see ghosts, but I never did see any.
"Cures were made with herbs such as, peach tree leaves, boiled as a tea
and drunk for fevers. Rabbit tobacco (life everlasting) was used for
colds. Small boys would chew and smoke it, as did some of the old folks.
"I have seven children, all grown; fourteen grand-children, and several
great-grand-children.
"Judge O'Neall was one of the best men and best masters in the country
that I knew of. I think Abraham Lincoln was a good man, according to
what I have heard about him. Jeff Davis was the same. Booker Washington
was a great man to his country and served the colored race.
"I joined the church because I believe the bible is true, and according
to what it says, the righteous are the only people God is pleased with.
Without holiness no man shall see God."
Source: Mary Veals (72), Newberry, S.C. Interviewed by: G.L.
Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 20, 1937.
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Oct. 21, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I don't own no house. I live in a rented house. Yes, I work fer my
living. I don't 'member much 'bout slavery except what I heard my daddy
and mammy say. My pa was Washing Holloway and my ma was Polly Holloway.
Dey belonged to Judge O'Neall, and lived at his place 'bout three miles
from town, near Bush River.
"Judge O'Neall's house was real old, and dey had a store near it called
Springfield, a kind of suburb at dat time.
"After de war, we didn't have much clothes, 'cause everything was so
high. Judge O'Neall died befo' de war was over, and his wife went to
Mississippi to live wid her married daughter. After de war, Miss Sallie,
who was Judge O'Neall's daughter, learn't me to read and write, and
other things in books.
"My father and mother went to de white folks' church in slavery time.
After de war, de negroes built deir first church and called it a 'brush
arbor'. A negro preacher named Simon Miller was a good man and done lots
of good when he preached in de brush arbor. Dis was on de old Banduslian
Springs hill, near de south fork of Scotts Creek."
Source: Mary Veals (73), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (9/30/37).
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=MANDA WALKER=
=_EX-SLAVE 80 YEARS OLD._=
Manda Walker lives with her son-in-law, Albert Cooper, in a three-room
frame cottage in Winnsboro, S.C. Albert's first wife was her daughter,
Sallie. Five of their children and Albert's second wife, Sadie, occupy
the house with Albert and Manda.
"Does you know where Horse Crick (Creek) branch is, and where Wateree
Crick is? Ever been 'long de public road 'tween them water courses?
Well, on de sunrise side of dat road, up on a hill, was where my slavery
time marster live.
"I was born in de yard, back of de white folks' house, in a little log
house wid a dirt floor and a stick and mud chimney to one end of de
house. My marster was name Marse Tom Rowe and my mistress name Missy
Jane Rowe. They de ones dat tell me, long time ago, dat I was born befo'
de war, in 1857. Deir chillun was Miss Mary and Miss Miami.
"I no work much 'til de end of de war. Then I pick cotton and peas and
shell corn and peas. Most of de time I play and sometime be maid to my
young misses. Both growed into pretty buxom ladies. Miss Miami was a
handsome buxom woman; her marry Marse Tom Johnson and live, after de
war, near Wateree Church.
"My pappy name Jeff and b'long to Marse Joe Woodward. He live on a
plantation 'cross de other side of Wateree Crick. My mammy name Phoebe.
Pappy have to git a pass to come to see mammy, befo' de war. Sometime
dat crick git up over de bank and I, to dis day, 'members one time pappy
come in all wet and drenched wid water. Him had made de mule swim de
crick. Him stayed over his leave dat was writ on de pass. Patarollers
(patrollers) come ask for de pass. They say: 'De time done out,
nigger.' Pappy try to explain but they pay no 'tention to him. Tied him
up, pulled down his breeches, and whupped him right befo' mammy and us
chillun. I shudder, to dis day, to think of it. Marse Tom and Miss Jane
heard de hollerin' of us all and come to de place they was whuppin' him
and beg them, in de name of God, to stop, dat de crick was still up and
dangerous to cross, and dat they would make it all right wid pappy's
marster. They say of pappy: 'Jeff swim 'cross, let him git de mule and
swim back.' They make pappy git on de mule and follow him down to de
crick and watch him swim dat swif' muddly crick to de other side. I
often think dat de system of patarollers and bloodhounds did more to
bring on de war and de wrath of de Lord than anything else. Why de good
white folks put up wid them poor white trash patarollers I never can see
or understand. You never see classy white buckra men a paterrollin'. It
was always some low-down white men, dat never owned a nigger in deir
life, doin' de patarollin' and a strippin' de clothes off men, lak
pappy, right befo' de wives and chillun and beatin' de blood out of him.
No, sir, good white men never dirty deir hands and souls in sich work of
de devil as dat.
"Mammy had nine chillun. All dead 'cept Oliver. Him still down dere wid
de Duke Power Company people, I think. When I come sixteen years old,
lak all gals dat age, I commence to think 'bout de boys, and de boys, I
'spects, commence to take notice of me. You look lak you is surprised I
say dat. You is just puttin' on. Old and solemn as you is, a settin'
dere a writin', I bets a whole lot of de same foolishness have run
through your head lak it run through Jerry's, when he took to goin' wid
me, back in 1873. Now ain't it so?
"Us chillun felt de pivations (privations) of de war. Us went in rags
and was often hungry. Food got scarce wid de white folks, so much had to
be given up for de army. De white folks have to give up coffee and tea.
De slaves just eat corn-bread, mush, 'taters and buttermilk. Even de
peas was commanded for de army. Us git meat just once a week, and then a
mighty little of dat. I never got a whuppin' and mammy never did git a
whuppin'.
"Us all went to Wateree Presbyterian Church on Sunday to hear Mr.
Douglas preach. Had two sermons and a picnic dinner on de ground 'tween
de sermons. Dat was a great day for de slaves. What de white folks lef'
on de ground de slaves had a right to, and us sure enjoy de remains and
bless de Lord for it. Main things he preached and prayed for, was a
success in de end of de war, so mammy would explain to us when us
'semble 'round de fireside befo' us go to bed. Her sure was a Christian
and make us all kneel down and say two prayers befo' us git in bed. De
last one was:
'Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray de Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die befo' I wake,
I pray de Lord my soul to take.
Bless pappy, bless mammy,
Bless marster, bless missie,
And bless me. Amen!'
"Wheeler's men was just as hard and wolfish as de Yankees. They say de
Yankees was close behind them and they just as well take things as to
leave all for de Yankees. 'Spect dat was true, for de Yankees come nex'
day and took de rest of de hog meat, flour, and cows. Had us to run down
and ketch de chickens for them. They search de house for money, watches,
rings, and silverware. Took everything they found, but they didn't set
de house afire. Dere was just 'bout five of them prowlin' 'round 'way
from de main army, a foragin', they say.
"When Miss Margaret marry, old marster sold out and leave de county. Us
move to Mr. Wade Rawls' and work for him from 1876 to Jerry's death. Is
I told you dat I marry Jerry? Well, I picked out Jerry Walker from a
baker's dozen of boys, hot footin' it 'bout mammy's door step, and us
never had a cross word all our lives. Us had nine chillun. Us moved
'round from pillar to post, always needy but always happy. Seem lak us
never could save anything on his $7.06 a month and a peck of meal and
three pounds of meat a week.
"When de chillun come on, us try rentin' a farm and got our supplies on
a crop lien, twenty-five percent on de cash price of de supplies and
paid in cotton in de fall. After de last bale was sold, every year, him
come home wid de same sick smile and de same sad tale: 'Well, Mandy, as
usual, I settled up and it was--'Naught is naught and figger is a
figger, all for de white man and none for de nigger.'
"De grave and de resurrection will put everything all right, but I have
a instinct dat God'll make it all right over and up yonder and dat all
our 'flictions will, in de long run, turn out to our 'ternal welfare and
happiness."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=NED WALKER=
=_EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD._=
Ned Walker lives in the village of White Oak, near Winnsboro, S.C., in a
two-room frame house, the dwelling of his son-in-law, Leander Heath, who
married his daughter, Nora. Ned is too old to do any work of a
remunerative character but looks after the garden and chickens of his
daughter and son-in-law. He is a frequent visitor to Winnsboro, S.C. He
brings chickens and garden produce, to sell in the town and the
Winnsboro Hill's village. He is tall, thin, and straight, with kind
eyes. Being one of the old Gaillard Negroes, transplanted from the
Santee section of Berkeley County, in the Low Country, to the red hills
of Fairfield County, in the Up Country, he still retains words and
phrases characteristic of the Negro in the lower part of South Carolina.
"Yes sir, I's tall and slim lak a saplin'; maybe dat a good reason I
live so long. Doctor say lean people lives longer than fat people.
"I hear daddy read one time from de Bible 'bout a man havin' strength of
years in his right hand and honor and riches in his left hand, but
whenever I open dat left hand dere is nothin' in it. 'Spect dat promise
is comin' tho', when de old age pension money gits down here from
Washington. When you 'spect it is comin'? De palm of my hand sho' begin
to itch for dat greenback money. So you think it's on de way? Well,
thank God for dat but it seem 'most too good to be true. Now I'll quit
askin' questions and just set here and smoke and answer, whilst you do
de puttin' down on de paper.
"Yes sir, I was born right here in de southeast corner of Winnsboro, on
de Clifton place. De day I was born, it b'long to my master, David
Gaillard. Miss Louisa, dats Master David's wife, 'low to me one day,
'Ned don't you ever call de master, old master, and don't you ever
think of me as old miss'. I promise her dat I keep dat always in mind,
and I ain't gonna change, though she done gone on to heaven and is in de
choir a singin' and a singin' them chants dat her could pipe so pretty
at St. Johns, in Winnsboro. You see they was 'Piscopalians. Dere was no
hard shell Baptist and no soft shell Methodist in deir make up. It was
all glory, big glory, glory in de very highest rung of Jacob's ladder,
wid our white folks.
"Well, how I is ramblin'. You see dere was Master David and Mistress
Louisa, de king bee and de queen bee. They had a plantation down on de
Santee, in de Low Country, somewhere 'bout Moncks Corner. One day Master
David buy a 1,385 acres on Wateree Creek. He also buy de Clifton place,
to live in, in Winnsboro. I can't git my mind back to tell you what I
wants for you to put on de paper. 'Scuse me, forgit everything, 'til you
git my pedigree down.
"I done name Master David and Mistress Louisa. Now for de chillun. Us
was told to front de boys name wid Marse and de young ladies name wid
Miss. Now us can go and git somewhere.
"Well, dere was Miss Elizabeth; she marry Mr. Dwight. Miss Maria marry
another Mr. Dwight. Miss Kate marry Mr. Bob Ellison, a sheriff. Her got
two chillun in Columbia, Marse David and Marse DuBose Ellison. Then for
de boys; they all went to de war. Marse Alley got kilt. Marse Dick rise
to be a captain and after de war marry Congressman Boyce's daughter,
Miss Fannie. Marse Ike marry and live in de Low Country; he die 'bout
two years ago. Marse Sam marry a Miss DuBose and went wid General Wade
Hampton.
"Marse Sam's son cut a canal that divide half and half de western part
of de whole world. Us niggers was powerful scared, 'til Marse David
Gailliard took a hold of de business. Why us scared? Why us fear dat de
center of de backbone of de world down dere, when cut, would tipple over
lak de halfs of a watermelon and everybody would go under de water in de
ocean. How could Marse David prevent it? Us niggers of de Gaillard
generation have confidence in de Gaillard race and us willin' to sink or
swim wid them in whatever they do. Young Marse David propped de sides of
de world up all right, down dere, and they name a big part of dat canal,
Gaillard Cut, so they did. (Gaillard Cut, Panama Canal)
"Well, I keep a ramblin'. Will I ever git to Marse Henry, de one dat
looked after and cared for slaves of de family most and best? Marse
Henry marry a Miss White in Charleston. He rise to be captain and
adjutant of de fightin' 6th Regiment. After de war him fix it so de
slaves stay altogether, on dat 1,385 acres and buy de place, as common
tenants, on de 'stallment plan. He send word for de head of each family
to come to Winnsboro; us have to have names and register. Marse Henry
command; us obey. Dat was a great day. My daddy already had his name,
Tom. He was de driver of de buggy, de carriage, and one of de wagons, in
slavery. Marse Henry wrote him a name on a slip and say: 'Tom as you
have never walked much, I name you Walker.'
"It wasn't long befo' daddy, who was de only one dat could read and
write, ride down to Columbia and come back wid a 'mission in his pocket
from de 'Publican Governor, to be Justice of de Peace.
"Marse Henry ladle out some 'golliwhopshus' names dat day. Such as:
Caesar Harrison, Edward Cades and Louis Brevard. He say, 'Louis, I give
you de name of a judge. Dan, I give you a Roman name, Pompey.' Pompey
turned out to be a preacher and I see your grandpa, Marse William
Woodward, in de graveyard when Uncle Pompey preached de funeral of old
Uncle Wash Moore. Tell you 'bout dat if I has time.
"Well, he give Uncle Sam de name of Shadrock. When he reach Uncle Aleck,
he 'low: 'I adds to your name Aleck, two fine names, a preacher's and a
scholar's, Porter Ramsey.' 'Bout dat time a little runt elbow and butt
his way right up to de front and say: 'Marse Henry, Marse Henry! I wants
a big bulldozin' name.' Marse Henry look at him and say: 'You little
shrimp, take dis then.' And Marse Henry write on de slip of paper:
Mendoza J. Fernandez, and read it out loud. De little runt laugh mighty
pleased and some of them Fernandezes 'round here to dis day.
"My mammy name Bess, my granddaddy name June, grandmamny, Renah, but all
my brothers dead. My sisters Clerissie and Phibbie am still livin'. Us
was born in a two-story frame house, chimney in de middle, four rooms
down stairs and four up stairs. Dere was four families livin' in it.
Dese was de town domestics of master. Him have another residence on de
plantation and a set of domestics, but my daddy was de coachman for both
places.
"De Gaillard quarters was a little town laid out wid streets wide 'nough
for a wagon to pass thru. Houses was on each side of de street. A well
and church was in de center of de town. Dere was a gin-house, barns,
stables, cowpen and a big bell on top of a high pole at de barn gate.
Dere was a big trough at de well, kept full of water day and night, in
case of fire and to water de stock. Us had peg beds, wheat straw
mattress and rag pillows. Cotton was too valuable.
"Master didn't 'low de chillun to be worked. He feed slaves on 'tatoes,
rice, corn pone, hominy, fried meat, 'lasses, shorts, turnips, collards,
and string beans. Us had pumpkin pie on Sunday. No butter, no sweet milk
but us got blabber and buttermilk.
"Oh, then, I 'bout to forgit. Dere was a big hall wid spinnin' wheels
in it, where thread was spin. Dat thread was hauled to Winnsboro and
brought to de Clifton place in Winnsboro, to de weave house. Dat house
set 'bout where de Winnsboro Mill is now. Mammy was head of de weave
house force and see to de cloth. Dere was a dye-room down dere too. They
use red earth sometime and sometime walnut stain. My mammy learn all dis
from a white lady, Miss Spurrier, dat Master David put in charge dere at
de first. How long she stay? I disremembers dat. Us no want for clothes
summer or winter. Had wooden bottom shoes, two pair in a year.
"Mr. Sam Johnson was de overseer. Dere was 'bout 700 slaves in de
Gaillard quarter and twenty in town, countin' de chillun. De young white
marsters break de law when they teach daddy to read and write. Marse
Dick say: 'To hell wid de law, I got to have somebody dat can read and
write 'mong de servants.' My daddy was his valet. He put de boys to bed,
put on deir shoes and brush them off, and all dat kind of 'tention.
"De church was called Springvale. After freedom, by a vote, de members
jines up, out of respect to de family, wid de Afican Methodist
'Piscopalian Church, so as to have as much of de form, widout de
substance of them chants, of de master's church.
"No sir, us had no mulattoes on de place. Everybody decent and happy.
They give us two days durin' Christmas for celebratin' and dancin'.
"I marry Sylvin Field, a gal on de General Bratton Canaan place. Us have
three chillun. Nora Heath, dat I'm now livin' wid, at White Oak, Bessie
Lew, in Tennessee, and Susannah, who is dead.
"What I think of Abe Lincoln? Dat was a mighty man of de Lord. What I
think of Jeff Davis? He all right, 'cordin' to his education, just lak
my white folks. What I think of Mr. Roosevelt? Oh, Man! Dat's our papa.
"Go off! I's blabbed 'nough. You 'bliged to hear 'bout dat funeral?
Will I pester you for 'nother cigarette? No sir! I ain't gonna smoke it
lak you smoke it. Supposin' us was settin' here smokin' them de same? A
Gaillard come up them steps and see us. He say: 'Shame on dat white
man', turn his back and walk back down. A Woodward come up them steps
and see us. He say: 'You d-- nigger! What's all dis?' Take me by de
collar, boot me down them steps, and come back and have it out wid you.
Dat's 'bout de difference of de up and low country buckra.
"Now 'bout Uncle Wash's funeral. Uncle Wash was de blacksmith in de
forks of de road 'cross de railroad from Concord Church. He was a
powerful man! Him use de hammer and tongs for all de people miles and
miles 'round. Him jine de Springvale Afican Methodist 'Piscopalian
Church, but fell from grace. Him covet a hog of Marse Walt Brice and was
sent to de penitentiary for two years, 'bout dat hog. Him contacted
consumption down dere and come home. His chest was all sunk in and his
ribs full of rheumatism. Him soon went to bed and died. Him was buried
on top of de hill, in de pines just north of Woodward. Uncle Pompey
preached de funeral. White folks was dere. Marse William was dere, and
his nephew, de Attorney General of Arizona. Uncle Pompey took his text
'bout Paul and Silas layin' in jail and dat it was not 'ternally against
a church member to go to jail. Him dwell on de life of labor and
bravery, in tacklin' kickin' hosses and mules. How him sharpen de dull
plow points and make de corn and cotton grow, to feed and clothe de
hungry and naked. He look up thru de pine tree tops and say: 'I see
Jacob's ladder. Brother Wash is climbin' dat ladder. Him is half way up.
Ah! Brudders and sisters, pray, while I preach dat he enter in them
pearly gates. I see them gates open. Brother Wash done reach de topmost
rung in dat ladder. Let us sing wid a shout, dat blessed hymn, 'Dere is
a Fountain Filled Wid Blood'.' Wid de first verse de women got to
hollerin' and wid de second', Uncle Pompey say: 'De dyin' thief I see
him dere to welcome Brother Wash in paradise. Thank God! Brother Wash
done washed as white as snow and landed safe forever more.'
"Dat Attorney General turn up his coat in de November wind and say;
'I'll be damn! Marse William smile and 'low: 'Oh Tom! Don't be too hard
on them. 'Member He will have mercy on them, dat have mercy on
others'."
=Project #1655=
=Stiles M. Scruggs=
=Columbia, S.C.=
=DANIEL WARING=
=_EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD._=
"I was born in Fairfield County, South Carolina, in 1849, and my
parents, Tobias and Becky Waring was slaves of the Waring family, and
the Bookters and Warings was kin folks. When I was just a little shaver
I was told I b'longed to the family of the late Colonel Edward Bookter
of upper Fairfield County.
"The Bookter plantation was a big one, with pastures for cattle, hogs
and sheep; big field of cotton, corn and wheat, and 'bout a dozen Negro
families livin' on it, mostly out of sight from the Bookter's big house.
Two women and three or four Negro chillun work there, preparin' the food
and carin' for the stock. I was one of the chillun. Colonel Bookter's
household had three boys; one bigger than me and two not quite as big as
me. We play together, drive up the cows together, and carry on in
friendly fashion all the time. The nigger chillun eat with the two black
women in a place fixed for them off from the kitchen, after the white
folks finish. We generally have same food and drink that the white folks
have.
"When I was 'bout eleven years old my master took me to Columbia one
Saturday afternoon, and while Colonel Bookter was 'round at a livery
stable on Assembly Street, he give me some money and tell me I could
stroll 'round a while. I did, and soon find myself with 'bout a dozen of
Master Hampton's boys. As we walk 'long Gervais Street, we met a big
fine lookin' man with a fishin' tackle, goin' towards the river, and
several other white folks was with him. As we turn the corner, the big
man kinda grin and say to us: 'Whose niggers are you?' The bigger boy
with us say: 'We all b'longs to Master Hampton.' He laugh some more and
then reach in his pocket and give each one of us a nickel, sayin' to
the white folks: 'Blest if I know my own niggers, anymore'.
"Yes sir, I was 'bout fourteen years old when President Lincoln set us
all free in 1863. The war was still goin' on and I'm tellin' you right
when I say that my folks and friends round me did not regard freedom as
a unmixed blessin'.
"We didn't know where to go or what to do, and so we stayed right where
we was, and there wasn't much difference to our livin', 'cause we had
always had a plenty to eat and wear. I 'member my mammy tellin' me that
food was gittin' scarce, and any black folks beginnin' to scratch for
themselves would suffer, if they take their foot in their hand and
ramble 'bout the land lak a wolf.
"As a slave on the plantation of Colonel Edward Bookter, I had a pretty
good time. I knows I has work to do and I does it, and I always has
plenty to eat and wear in winter and summer. If I get sick I has a
doctor, so we set tight until 1865. After the war we come to Columbia,
and mammy made us a livin' by washin' for white folks and doin' other
jobs in the kitchen, and I worked at odd jobs, too.
"We didn't get much money from the Freedmen's outfit, which was
'stablished in Columbia. The white men who set it up and administered
the Freedmen's funds and rations let some of their pets have much of it,
while others got little or nothin'. An' existence become increasin'
harder as nigger got more and more in the saddle.
"During the war, and it seem to me it would never end, we heard much
'bout President Lincoln. Niggers seem to think he was foolish to get
into war, but they generally give him credit for directin' it right as
far as he could. President Davis was powerful popular at the beginnin'
of the conflict, but his popularity was far less when the war is over
and he is in jail.
"I was 'most grown at the end of the war, and I was at no time popular
with the black leaders and their white friends who rule the roost in
Columbia for 'most thirteen years. I went back to my white friends in
Fairfield County and work for years for Mister T.S. Brice, and others on
the plantation.
"I has been married three times, and am now livin' with my third wife.
She and me am makin' a sort of livin', and is yet able to work. I can
only do de lightest work and the sweetest thought I has these days is
the memory of my white friends when I was young and happy."
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, June 2, 1937=
=NANCY WASHINGTON=
=Ex-Slave, 104 years.=
"Come in child. Jes set right dere in dat chair whey I c'n be mindful uv
yuh cause I ain' hear but sorta hard lak dese days. I jes come in outer
de field whey I been chopping 'round uh little wid me hoe, but eve't'ing
is grow so black 'fore me eye dat I t'ink I better rest meself uh
little. I tries to help Sam (her son) aw I c'n, but I ain' mucha 'count
no more. I 104 year old en I ain' gwinna be heah much longer. Me mark
done strak (strike) me right dere dis a'ternoon. Dat been jes de way my
ole mammy waz call."
"Does yah know whey dat place call Ash Pole? Dat whey I wuz raise up
when I b'long to Massa Giles Evanson. He wuz uh good ole fellow. I ain'
know wha' it wuz to ge' no bad treatment by my white people. Dey tell me
some uv de colored peoples lib mighty rough in dat day en time but I
ne'er know nuthin 'bout dat. I 'member dey is spank we chillun wid
shingle but dey ne'er didn't hit my mudder."
"My Massa ne'er hab so mucha colored peoples lak some uv dem udder white
folks hab. Jes hab my mudder en eight head uv we chillun. Hab 'nough to
gi'e eve'yone uv he daughter uh servant apiece when dey ge' marry. Ne'er
hab nuthin but women colored peoples. My Massa say he ain' wan' no man
colored peoples."
"De preacher Ford, wha' use'er lib right up dere in town, papa hab uh
big ole plantation wha' been jes lak uh little town. He hab hundred
colored peoples en dey is hab eve't'ing dere. Hab dey preachin' right
dere on de plantation en aw dat."
"Coase my white folks hab uh nice plantation en dey keep uh nice house
aw de time. I wuz de house girl dere en de one wha' dey'ud hab to wait
on de Missus. Dey'ud carry me eve'ywhey dey go. Al'ays know how I wuz
faring. My Missus wuz big en independent lak. Talk lak she mad aw de
time, but she warnt. She ne'er wear no cotton 'bout dere no time. Hab
her silk on eve'y day en dem long yellow ear bob dat'ud be tetchin right
long side she shoulder. I al'ays look a'ter de Missus en she chillun.
Wash dey feet en comb dey hair en put de chillun to bed. But child, some
white folks is queer 'bout t'ings. Dey watch yuh gwine 'bout yuh work en
den dey'll wan' yuh to do sumptin fa dem. De ole man take me 'way from
helping de Missus en send me out to plow corn en drap peas. I wuz shame
too cause I ne'er lak fa he to treat my Missus dat uh way."
"De peoples ne'er didn't cook in no stove den neither. Dey hab big ole
round dirt ubben (oven) to cook dey ration in. Dey make dey ubben outer
white clay en hadder build uh shelter over it cause dey'ud cook outer
in de yard. Dey ne'er cook but jes twice uh week. Cook on Wednesday en
den ne'er cook no more till Saturday. I 'member de big ole ham dat dey
cook en de tatoes en so mucha bread. Jes hab 'bundance aw de time. I got
uh piece uv de ole slavery time ubben heah now. I ge' it outer en show
it to yuh. Dis is one uv de leads (lids) en dey'ud put uh chain en hook
on dere en hang it up in de fireplace. Dat de way dey cook dey ration. O
Lawd, ef I could ge' back to my ole home whey I could look in en see jes
one more time, jes one more time, child."
"I wuz jes uh girl when de Yankees come t'rough dere. Dey look jes lak
uh big blue cloud comin' down dat road en we chillun wuz scared uv em.
Dat land 'round 'bout dere wuz full uv dem Yankees marchin' en gwine on.
Dey ne'er bother my white folks but in some uv de places dey jes ruint
eve't'ing. Burnt up en tore down aw 'bout dere."
"Yuh ain' ne'er see nobody weave no cloth nowadays. In de winter dey
use'er al'ays put woolen on de little chillun to keep em from getting
burnt up. Peoples wuz easy to cotch uh fire in dat time. Dey hab plenty
uv sheep den en dis jes 'bout de time uv de year dat dey shear de sheep.
Al'ays'ud shear de sheep in de month uv May. Dey is make aw kinder nice
cloth den. I c'n charge en spin en make any kinder streak yuh wan'.
Coase my mudder use'er weave de jeanes cloth en blanketing."
"Dey use'er hab some uv dem corn-shucking 'bout dere but I ne'er take no
part in none uv dat. A'ter freedom declare, us pull boxes en dip
turpentine. Dat wha' wuz in de style den."
"I won' but 'bout 16 when I marry en I hab uh nice wedding. Marry right
dere in my Massa yard en hab white swass dress to wear. I marry uh
settled man offen uh rich man plantation en dey ne'er wan' me to marry,
but dey ne'er say nuthin 'gainst it. Dey hab good manners den en manners
de t'ing dat carry peoples t'rough anyt'ing, child."
_Source_: Nancy Washington, age 104, colored, Dusty Hills,
Marion, S.C. (Personal interview, May 1937).
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=CHARLEY WATSON=
=_EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD._=