just got to fan myself befo' I give answer to your questions. You got
any 'bacco I could chaw and a place to spit? Dis old darkie maybe answer
more better if he be allowed to be placed lak dat at de beginnin' of de
'sperience.
"Where was I born? Why right dere on de Hog Fork Place, thought
everybody knowed dat! It was de home place of my old Marster Daniel
Hall, one of de Rockefellers of his day and generation, I tells you, he
sho was. My pappy had big name, my marster call him Denmore, my mammy
went by de name of Mariyer. She was bought out of a drove from Virginny
long befo' de war. They both b'long to old marster and bless God live on
de same place in a little log house. Let's see; my brother Bill is one,
he livin' at de stone quarry at Salisbury, North Carolina. My sister
Lugenie marry a Boulware nigger and they tells me dat woman done take
dat nigger and make sumpin' out of him. They owns their own automobile
and livin' in Cleveland, Ohio.
"Us live in quarters, two string of houses a quarter mile long and just
de width of a wagon road betwixt them. How many slaves marster had? Dere
was four hundred in 1850, dat was de year I was born, so allowing for de
natural 'crease, 'spect dere was good many more when freedom come. Our
beds was made of poles and hay or straw. Was my marster rich? How come
he wasn't? Didn't he have a Florida plantation and a Georgia plantation?
Didn't us niggers work hard for our vittles and clothes? It make me
laugh de way de niggers talk 'bout eight hours a day. Us worked by de
'can and de can't system'. What way dat you ask me? Well, was dis way;
in de mornin' when it git so you can see, you got to go to work and at
night when it git so dark you can't see you ceasted to work. You see
what I mean? My marster's white overseer 'dopted de 'can and can't
system' of work hours. My mammy had to plow same as a man, she did sir.
Sometimes they pulled fodder and fooled wid it on Sunday.
"You is a pushin' me a little too fast. Let me gum dis 'bacco and spit
and I can do and say more 'zackly what you expect from me. My marster
had sheep, goats, mules, horses, stallion, jackass, cows and hogs, and
then he had a gin, tan yard, spinnin' rooms, weave room, blacksmith shop
and shoe shop. Dere was wild turkeys on de place, deer in de cane brakes
and shad in de Catawba River. De Indians fetch their pots and jars to
sell, and peddlers come to big house wid their humps on their backs and
bright yards of calico and sich things de missus lak to feel and s'lect
from. I see money then, but I never see a nigger wid money in his paws
in slavery time, never!
"Us was fed good on corn meal, hog meat, milk, butter, 'lasses, turnips,
beans, peas and apples, never hungry. Boss whip me once for fightin' and I
never fought anymore, I tells you.
"My mistress name Miss Sarah. Her was a Hicklin befo' she marry. Their
chillun was: Tom, Billie, Dan and Jason, all dead 'cept Marster Jason.
De white overseer was Strother Ford. He give de slaves down the country
maybe sometimes, so heard them say, but I didn't see him.
"Did us sing? Yes sir. What us sing? One was what I's gwine hist right
dis minute and sing wid your lieve. (Here Charley sang, 'Give me dat old
time religion'.)
"Us made 'simmon beer sometime and lye soap just 'bout in de same way,
hopper was 'rected for dat. 'Simmons was put wid locust; hickory ashes
was used to make soap. Every Christmas us got ginger cake and sassafras
tea.
"Doctor Scott was de doctor for de slaves. Us niggers was mighty sad
when his son Willie's gun went off by accident and kill him in 1868. De
Doctor never smile again after dat cumbustion of dat gun. Does you
'member de time Mr. Till Dixon was drowned? He your uncle? 'Twas de
fourth of July, I 'member dat day, and a boy Freddie Habbernick was
drowned in Catawba in 1903. Dat river take a many soul over dat other
shore, I tells you."
=S-260-264-N=
=Project 935=
=Samuel Addison=
=Richland County=
=EX-SLAVE 91 YEARS OLD, CONGAREE, SOUTH CAROLINA=
=_THERE WAS NO GOD BUT MOSSA AN' MISSUS_=
"My pa name was Nat White who tell me dat I was bo'n about 1842. My ma
was name Jane White. My pa use to carry all de votes from McClellanville
to Charleston. He come from Tibbin, South Carolina. He also been all
'round de United States. My Ma's Ma bin name Kate. I had sense to know
'em all.
"I know a heap o' sojus had on nice buttons an' had plumes in dere hats.
Dey wus singin' an' playin' on a flute dis song, 'I wish I wus in
Dixie,' an' dey went in de big house an' broke up ebery thing. Dey say
to me, 'you are as free as a frog,' an' dey say to my pa, 'all your
chillun are free.' Dey say 'little niggers is free as a frog' an' we
holler much.
"I aint nebber do no work, but I kin 'member I use to wear a pant you
call chambery. Ma cook a pot o' peas an' weevils wus always on de top.
Ma would den turn mush an' clean a place on de floor, she make a paddle
an' we eat off de floor. She use to bake ash cake too. I didn' know
'bout no garden, all I know I eat. Dis what dey put on me I wear em. I
nebber know nothin' 'bout shoes.
"My master been name Bill Cooper who had a gal an' a son. De gal been
name Mary an' de boy Bill like de daddy.
"Tarbin wus a big house, but I aint nebber know de number o' slaves or
'mount o' lan' dat went wid um.
"De slaves had a church name Lazarus an' some went to de white church.
Dey had us bar off frum de whites an' we use to look t'rough a glass
door. I member when a preacher say, 'honor your missus an' mossa dat
your days may be long for dey is your only God.' My Ma tell me when dey
use to lick dem she use to sing dis song, 'do pray for me' en ma say
w'en de lickin' got too hot she say 'oh God' en mossa say, 'show me dat
damn man', den he say, 'I am your only God. My preacher name wus Sabie
Mood.
"De slaves couldn't git any news, but dey had to work on Sunday if de
week bin bad. W'en it rain dey use to shuck co'n.
"W'en Bill Cooper die he holler to me, 'I'm burnin' up' an' ma say
missus say, 'iron me too hot, she meat is red like fire.'
"We use to sing song like dese;
'Mary bring de news an' Martha win de prize.
I mus die an' will die in dat day
See dat oars like feathers springing'
"I marry Sarah on December 18th. Him de only one I marry an' we had a
big weddin' an' plenty o' somethin' to eat. We had fourteen chillun.
"Pa say mossa use to take de fork an' punch holes in dere body w'en he
got mad. People always die frum de pisin.
"Dis is all I know I ain't go tell no lie, dat what pa say, I moved here
atter de yankees come."
Reference;
Uncle Dave White,
91 years old
Congaree, South Carolina.
=S-260-264-N=
=Project 1885=
=Laura L. Middleton=
=Charleston, S.C.=
=No. Words: 452=
=UNCLE DAVE WHITE=
=_An Old Time Negro_=
Uncle Dave White, one of the waning tribe lives in a simple homestead
down a dusty and wind-swept curved country lane on the out skirt of
McClenville, forty miles North of Charleston rests the simple shanty of
David White, aged Negro, affectionally known to the Negro and white
population for many miles around as "uncle Dave".
His quiet unadulterated mode of living and his never changing grateful
disposition typifies the true Southern Negro of pre-Civil War days; a
race that was commonplace and plentiful at one time, but is now almost
extinct, having dwindled in the face of more adequate educational
facilities.
His homestead, resembling a barn more than a place to live in. To
protect the house against the hazardous affects of imperilling winds,
long poles are made to prop the somewhat dilapidated shanty.
A visit to his home, one dark and dreary day in late December, found him
as usual in the best of spirits. He welcomed the visitors with a
cordiality that would rival the meeting of two long lost friends. The
front has no main entrance; the main door is around the back. There are
conspicuous displays of many ancient burlap bags, heavy laden, hanging
from high rafters, which contained corn and peanuts.
"But why not keep them in your barn, Uncle Dave!" one would ask.
"Well, suh, I keep mah co'n and grain nuts in yuh so mak eye can sta' on
'em," he replies.
A further inspection of the premises revealed other precautions he had
taken against the unwelcomed guests; a crude lock on each door and many
other precautionary measures convicted, that he was willing to take no
unnecessary chances at having his worldly goods stolen.
His age is truly a matter of conjecture. The more you look at him the
more uncertain you become. His droopy carriage and shriveled feature
betray you at first sight. The first impression will lead one to believe
that he is about one hundred years of age, and later it will appear that
he is not that old.
We had known "uncle Dave" for a long time; for years it had been a
familiar sight to see him trudging the streets of the town with burlap
bags thrown across his shoulders containing such household necessities
as grits, salt, sugar, etc., and such articles as the house wives would
give him out of sheer sympathy. To every friendly greeting he always had
the humble response of "Tank Gawd, my eye is open."
He is well known throughout the town. One Sunday night a short time ago,
while the services of a white church were in progress, distinguishable
sounds of Amen were heard at regular intervals coming from the outside.
On investigating they discovered that it was "uncle Dave" reverently
enjoying the proceedings. Many times he has been seen outside the same
church listening to the services.
_SOURCE_
Interview with (Mrs.) Minnie Huges, age 43, 179 Spring Street, welfare
worker.
=Project 1655=
=Martha S. Pinckney=
=Charleston, S.C.=
=FOLKLORE=
=Approx. _637_ words=
=_INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE_=
Everybody in the town of Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish (across the
Bay from Charleston) knows "Tena White, the washer," "Tena, the cook,"
"Maum Tena" or "Da Tena, the nurse"--the same individual, accomplished
in each art, but best as a nurse.
The house where Tena lives is the second in a row of Negro houses. The
writer, calling from the gate, was answered by Tena, a middle-sized
woman of neat figure. As the writer ascended the steps a friendly cur
wagged itself forward and was promptly reproved by Tena, who placed a
chair, the seat of which she wiped carefully with her dress. The piazza
was clean and on the floor a black baby slept on a folded cloth, with a
pillow under its head. The writer was soon on friendly terms with Maum
Tena, and was told: "As soon as my eye set on you, I see you favor the
people I know. My people belonged to Mr. William Venning. The plantation
was Remley Point. I couldn't zactly member my pa's name. I member when
de war come though. Oh dem drum; I nebber hear such a drum in my life!
De people like music; dey didn't care nothing bout de Yankees, but dem
bands of music! My mother name Molly Williams. My pa dead long before
that. All my people dead. I stayin' here with my youngest sister
chile--youngest son. He got seven head ob chillun."
"I can do anything--wash or cook--aint no more cook though. Oh yes" and
her eyes sparkled, "I know how to cook de turkey, and de ham wid de
little brown spots all over de top. Nobody can collec' my soup for me; I
first go choose my soup bone. One wid plenty richness. My chile say,
'While my Tena live I wouldn't want nobody else.' But I couldn't take de
sponsibility now."
"Maum Tena, how many children did you have?"
"Maggie an Etta an Georgie an Annie, etc., etc." so fast and so many
that one couldn't keep up.
"Wait, Maum Tena. How many were there in all--your own children?"
"I nebber had a chile."
"Oh, those were the children you nursed."
"I marry twice. Caesar Robson an Aleck White."
"Did you ever sing spirituals?"
"No, I nebber had time."
"But you sang lullabies to the children."
"Oh, I sing someting to keep de chile quiet."
"Where is your church, Maum Tena?"
"De Methodist Church right here. I know I got for die some day. He keep
me distance,[B] but when I look an see my flesh, I tenk de Lord for
ebbery year what pass on my head. Taint my goodness, tis His goodness.
Nothing but the pureness of heart will see Him."
[B] Has lived a long time.
Tena was shocked and disgusted at the idea of the Lord being a "black
man." She said with perfect certainty that he was "no such."
"We all goin to de same Heaven, and there aint no black people there."
The writer asked Tena her age; before she could answer, her great-niece
came to the door and said, "She eighty-eight." Tena was indignant. Her
eyes flashed. "I aint goin to hab nobody come along puttin down my age
what dunno anyting about it. I ought to be as high as nine. Let um be as
high as nine."[C]
"If I didn't been round de house wid white people I wouldn't hab dis
opportunity today, an dey good to me an gib me nuf to keep my soul an
body together. My mother raise me right. When de Yankee come through we
been at Remley Point. My Ma took care ob me. She shut me up and she gard
me. De Yankee been go in de colored people house, an dey mix all up, an
dey do jus what dey want. Dey been brutish.
"De beautiful tureen, stand so high and hab foot so long" lifting her
hands, "an all de beautiful ting smash up, an all de meat an ham in de
smoke house de stribute um all out to de people, an de dairy broke up,
an de horse an de cow kill. Nothin leave. Scatter ebberyting. Nothin
leave."
[C] Meaning her age should be in the nineties.
=SOURCE: Tena White, Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish, S.C.=
=Age: Approximately 90.=
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=BILL WILLIAMS=
=_EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD._=
Bill Williams lives on the Durham place, nine miles east of Winnsboro,
S.C., on the warm charity of Mr. Arthur M. Owens, the present owner. He
is decrepit and unable to work.
"I was born a slave of old Marster John Durham, on a plantation 'bout
five miles east of Blackstock, S.C. My mistress name Margaret. Deir
chillun was Miss Cynthia, Marse Johnnie, Marse Willie and Marse Charnel.
I forgits de others. Then, when young Marse Johnnie marry Miss Minnie
Mobley, my mammy, Kizzie, my daddy, Eph, and me was give to them. Daddy
and mammy had four other chillun. They was Eph, Reuben, Winnie and
Jordan. Us live in rows of log houses, a path 'twixt de two rows. Us was
close to de spring, where us got water and mammy did de white folks
washin' every week. I kep' de fires burnin' 'round de pots, so de water
would keep boilin'. Dat's 'bout all de work I 'members doin' in slavery
time. Daddy was a field hand and ploughed a big red mule, name Esau. How
many slaves was dere? More than I could count. In them days I couldn't
count up to a hundred. How, then, I gonna kno' how many dere was? You
have to ask somebody else. I'll just risk sayin' dere was big and little
ones, just a little drove of them dat went to de field in cotton pickin'
time, a hollerin' and a singin' glory hallelujah all day long, and pick
two bales a day.
"Marse Johnnie and Miss Minnie mighty good marster and mistress to deir
slaves. We had good rock chimneys to our houses, plank floors, movable
bedsteads, wid good wheat straw ticks, and cotton pillows. Other folks'
slaves was complainin' 'bout dirt floors in de houses, boards to sleep
on, no ticks, and rags for pillows. Us got flour bread and 'lasses on
Sunday, too, I'm here to tell you.
"They sho' fetch dat catechism 'round on Sunday and telled you who made
you, what Him make you out of, and what Him make you for. And they say
dat from de crown of your head to de top of your big toe, de chief end
of every finger and every toe, even to de ends of your two thumbs, was
made to glorify de Lord! Missus more 'ticular 'bout dat catechism than
de marster. Her grandpa, old Marster John Mobley was a great Baptist.
After de crops was laid by, every August, him visit his granddaughter.
While dere, he take de slaves and dam up de branch, to make a pond for
to pool de water. Then he take to de hill just 'bove, cut down pine
tops, and make a brush arbor to hold de prachin' in. 'Vite white
preachers, Mr. Cartledge, Mr. Mellichamp or Mr. Van, to come hold a
'vival for all de slaves in and 'round and 'bout de country. I's seen 27
go down and come up out dat pool, a splashin' water from deir faces, one
Sunday evenin'. A terrible thing happen one time at de baptism. It was
while de war was gwine on. Marse Johnnie had come back from Virginia, on
a furlough for ten days. Old Marse John come to see him and fetch Rev.
Mr. Cartledge wid him. People was pow'ful consarned 'bout 'ligion 'long
'bout dat time. Me and all de little slave boys jined dat time and dere
was a little boy name Ike, a slave of old Doctor John Douglas, dat
jined. Him was just 'bout my age, seven or eight years old. After him
jined, him wanna back out of goin' down into de water. Dat evenin',
after dinner, us was all dressed in a kind of white slip-over gown for
de occasion. When it come Ike's time to receive de baptism, him was led
by his mammy, by de hand, to de edge of de water and his hand given to
de preacher in charge, who received him. Then he commenced: 'On de
confession----'. 'Bout dat time little Ike broke loose, run up de bank,
and his mammy and all de slaves holler: 'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old
Marse John holler: 'Ketch him!' They ketch little Ike and fetch him back
to old Marse John and his mammy. Marse John explain to him dat it better
to have water in de nose, now, than fire in de soul forever after.
Little Ike say nothin'. His mammy take his hand and lead him to de
preacher de same way her did befo'. Little Ike went down into de water.
Preacher take him but when little Ike got down under dat water, de
preacher lose de hold and bless God, in some way little Ike got 'twixt
and 'tween de preacher's legs and comin' out behind him, turnt him
sommersets and climb out on de bank a runnin'. Little Ike's mammy cry
out: 'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old marster say: 'No let him go to de
devil. Thank de Lord him none of our niggers anyhow. Him just one of Dr.
Douglas' Presbyterians niggers dat's destined to hell and be damned, I
reckon."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=JESSE WILLIAMS=
=_EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD._=
At the end of one of the silent streets of west Chester, S.C., that
prolongs itself into a road leading to the Potter's Field and on to the
County Poorhouse, sets a whitewashed frame cottage. It has two rooms,
the chimney in the center providing each with a fireplace. A porch,
supported by red cedar posts, fronts the road side. In this abode lives
Jesse Williams with his daughter, Edna, and her six children. Edna pays
the rent, and is a grenadier in the warfare of keeping the wolf from the
door.
"You say I looks pretty old? Well, you's right 'bout de old part but I's
far 'way from de pretty part. I got a hand glass in my house and when I
shaves on Sunday mornin's, I often wonders who I is. I doesn't look lak
me. My best friend couldn't say I got much on looks, but my old dog rap
his tail on de floor lak he might say so, if him could speak.
"I's been off and on dese streets of Chester for eighty-three years. I
was born a slave of Marse Adam C. Walker and my old miss was Mistress
Eliza, dat's his wife.
"My pappy name Henry and mammy name Maria. I can see them plowin' in de
field right now. Mammy plowin' same as pappy and me runnin' 'long
behind, takin' de dirt off de cotton plants where de twister plow turnt
de clods on de plants. Then, when dat cotton field git white and red wid
blooms in summer and white agin in de fall, I have to shoulder my poke
and go to de field and pick dat cotton. I 'members de fust day dat I
pick a hundred pounds. Marse Adam pull out a big flat black pocket-book
and gived me a shinplaster, and say: 'Jesse, ever time your basket h'ist
de beam of de steelyards to 100, you gits a shinplaster.' I make eighty
cents dat year but I have to git up when de chickens crow for day and
git in de field when de dew was heavy on de cotton. Does I think dat was
cheatin'? Oh, no sir! I wasn't 'ceivin' old marster. Him wink at dat,
and take a pound off for dew. I'd a made more money but they took me out
de field in November, to drive de mules to de hoss-gin. Dat was play
work, just a settin' up dere and poppin' de whip.
"Marster live in a big two-story, eight-room house. De kitchen was out
from de house. After Christmas, dat year, I was house boy and drive de
buggy for Miss Eliza when her want to go visitin'. I was fed well and
spent my money for a knife, candy, and firecrackers.
"My marster and missus have chillun. They was Peter, Jerry, Miss Elnora,
and Miss Sallie, dat I play wid in slavery time.
"De Yankees didn't come as far up as Chester. They branched off down
'bout Blackstock, took de sunrise side of dat place and march on 'cross
Catawba River, at Rocky Mount. I stay on wid Marse Adam and Miss Eliza,
after freedom. I marry a handsome gal. Yes, sir, she dark but not too
shady. I harks back to them days, as I sets here in dis rocker a talkin'
to you. Did I tell you her name? Her name just suit her. Not Jane,
Polly, Mag, Sallie, and de lak of dat! Them was too common for her. Her
name Catherine, dat just fit her. Us have ten chillun and her and all
them 'cept me and three chillun done gone over to Jordan. Dere was just
one thing 'bout Catherine dat I's dubious 'bout. She lak to dance, and I
was too clumsy for to ever cut a double shuffle. I 'spect I cut a poor
figure at de frolics us went to. Does you think burnin' a candle for her
would do any good at dis late day? Why I ask you dat? Well, I has heard
them say dat white folks does dat sometimes for deir gone-on ones. My
daughter, Edna say: 'It might do you good and it could do mama no harm.'
I b'longs to Mount Moriah Church in dis very town of Chester. De
preacher am Rev. Alexander. He 'low it was superstition to burn dat
candle but if I live I's gwine to light one nex' Christmas.
"Us had a good marster and mistress. They was big buckra, never 'sociate
wid poor white trash. They wore de red shirt. De time come 'round when
they send me to Marse Will Harden and he pass me on to go see Marse
Judge Mackey, who live here then. Did I know Judge Mackey? Sho' I did!
While he was a settin' up dere on de bench in de court house, he have
all de people laughin'. One time de father of Marse W.B. Lindsey beat up
a Radical nigger and de case come up befo' him for trial. Great
'citement 'bout it, over de whole county. Court house packed dat day.
Solicitor rise and say: 'Please your honor, de 'fendant, Lindsey, put in
a plea of guilty.' You might have heard a breast feather of a chicken
fall, so very still was de people in dere, though de niggers and
'publicans was a grinning wid joy. Then Judge Mackey 'low: 'Let de
'fendant stand up.' Wid a solemn face and a solemn talk, him wound up
wid: 'Derefore, de court sentence you to de State Penitentiary at hard
labor for a period of ten years (Then him face light up, as he
conclude), or pay a fine of one dollar!' De white folks holler: 'Three
cheers for Judge Mackey!' De judge git up and bow, and say: 'Order in de
court.' As dere was no quiet to be got, clerk 'journed de court. De
judge take his silk beaver hat and gold headed cane and march out, while
de baliffs holler: 'Make way! Make way for de honorable judge!'
Everybody took up dat cry and keep it up long as de judge was on de
streets. Oh, how dat judge twirl his cane, smile, and strut.
"Did I ever see a spirit? 'Spect I has and I sho' have felt one more
than once. 'Spect I was born wid a caul over my eyes. When de last
quarter of de moon come in de seventh month of a seventh year, is de
most time you see spirits. Lyin' out in de moon, befo' daybreak, I's
smelt, I's heard, I's seed and I's felt Catherine's spirit in de moon
shadows. I come nigh ketchin' hold of her one night, as I wake up a
dreamin' 'bout her but befo' I could set up, I hear her pass 'way,
through de treetops dat I was layin', dreamin' under.
"Then another time, I was settin' here 'bout four o'clock in de
moonlight a lookin' 'cross de street to de town hall. I see sumpin' rise
and jump upon dat rock a lyin' dere 'ginst de town hall. It was de
figger of a man. Who it was I don't know, though they de call de rock de
'Aaron Burr Rock', 'cause he made a speech standin' on dat rock, long
befo' I was born. De people in de library can tell you 'bout dat speech.
Maybe Dr. Lathan tell you 'bout it. Him ninety-five years old dis last
past twelfth day of May and knows all 'bout de days dat are gone.
"I live wid my daughter, Edna, and I just can make it back dere from de
post office every day."
=Code: Folk-Lore=
=Project 1885 -1-=
=District #4=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=May 26, 1937=
=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=
Aunt Mary Williams stated she remembered slavery times, for she was a
girl large enough to walk four miles to go to work "while slavery was
on". She said Mr. Alfred Brown used to own her mother, but she was
raised by Mrs. Margaret Taylor who used to live where the oil mill is
now, below Arkwright Mills. Her father was owned by Mr. Simpson Bobo and
drove his horse for him. She stated she was a good hoe-hand, but didn't
pick cotton, as Mr. Brown didn't raise any cotton, just raised something
to eat.
She said her master was a kind man, didn't allow any "paterollers" on
his place, yet she had seen other slaves on other plantations with
bloody backs and arms from the whippings they got. When asked why they
were whipped, she replied, "Just because their masters could whip them;
they owned them and could do what they wanted to them". Her master
didn't allow any whipping on his place. One time he kept a slave from
another plantation who was fleeing the "paterollers" on his place and in
his own house until he was set free.
"I'se got the looking glasses and the thimble my great-grandmother used
to use when she worked. She was a good weaver and a good sewer. She made
a man an overcoat once, but didn't get but $1.25 for it; she made a pair
of men's breeches and got fifty cents for making them. They didn't get
nothing for making clothes in those days".
She remembered when the Yankee soldiers came into Spartanburg. She said
they took all they could get, stole something to eat, just went into the
stores and took liquor and handed it out drink by drink to the other
soldiers. Aunt Mary stated she saw Abe Lincoln when he came through
Spartanburg; said he was armed himself and had soldiers all around him.
He told the colored folks who seemed scared of him that he wasn't going
to hurt anybody, not to be scared of him. (Here she must have confused
Lincoln with some one else, probably Colonel Palmer, who commanded a
detachment in pursuit of Jefferson Davis, which stopped over-night in
Spartanburg in April, 1865. FK.)
SOURCE: Aunt Mary Williams, 391 Cudd St., Spartanburg, S.C.
Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.
=Project 1655=
=Genevieve W. Chandler=
=Georgetown County, S.C.=
=FOLKLORE=
=EX-SLAVE STORY=
=UNCLE WILLIS WILLIAMS=
"When wuz I born? Born in August. When I wuz born been August. I wuz a
man grown pulling boxes, (turpentine boxes) when the shake wuz. I know
the very night the shake come----on a Wednesday night. I wuz on door
step loosing my shoe string. There wuz more religion then than they is
now. Praying and prayer meeting for a month. Everybody tend meeting.
"I been with the Yankee. I kin tell you bout the Yankee. They come home
there to Rock Creek when the war wuz breaking up and carried me to
Fayetteville. (N.C.) Kept me with 'em till Johnson surrendered in
Raleigh,----then they kept me in Goldsboro and took me on to Petersburg.
After everything over they give me free transportation back home. Free
on train back to Fayetteville. They had put all the Yankee clothes on
me,----all the blue shirt, blue coat and bumps on the shoulder,--and
when they start me home took all the Yankee clothes way from me. Put
gray clothes on me and sent me back. I member they took me up in a
way-up-yonder building--to Richmond. Couldn't tell you the depth of it.
Man on the ground looked like boy.
"The man I belonged to been Mass John A. Williams. (Born on the Cape
Fear.) I goes by Mass John name--Williams. His sons been John, James,
Charlie, Wallis, William, James. James come home from army sick. Had the
mumps; thirty days furlough.
"Member when the Yankees come. Been Sunday morning. Ride up to the gate
on horses. Old Boss happened to come out and walk to the lot. I happened
to be at gate. They took his watch out his pocket, his pistol--had it
girded to him--and took all he whiskey and catch chickens and guinea and
take them all. Then they gone in the lot and took two breeding mares and
hitch them in wagon and loaded wagon full o' corn. Then they took the
two carriage horses and hitched to carriage, and gone to smoke-house,
and fill that carriage full of all Mass John sides of meat and ham and
shoulders. I been following and watching to see what all they going to
take, and a soldier looked at me and say,
"'Come on little Nigger! Wanter go?'
"And I done like another fool! I rode off behind the two brood mares, on
the corn, and where they rested that night, I rested right there.
"It was mighty cold up there. I suffered a heap in the cold fore I got
back home. They give me a horse,--saddled and bridled,--and a little
bayonet gun. Put me on that horse to drive cattle. Tell me to take all I
see. Didn't except nobody cattle. Night come put 'em in pasture--put 'em
in anybody field--on the oats, rye, wheat.
"Sometimes rain sho fall.--Had to tend that bunch of cattle rain or no
rain. Didn't kill one beef and stop! (Kill) FOUR beeves a day. Go out
git the hog and kill 'em. Skin 'em. Didn't scald 'em and clean 'em like
we do. Just eat the ham. Rest throw way. Gone to Wilmington,
Fayetteville, Rookfish and Beaver Creek.
"General Sherman? Has I hear bout him? I SEEN him! He had a big name but
he warn't such a big man; he was a little spare made man. I member now
when I seed him the last time. He had two matched horses going down to
Petersburg. Six guards riding by the side of his turnout. Oh my God,
what clothes he had on! He was dressed down in finest uniform.
"When I leave the Yankee they give me $35.00 in money. I been so fool
had never seen no green back. Throwed it away eating crackers and
peanuts. And I bought some brogan shoes. If I'd a helt on to that, I'd a
been some body today.
"I members it was Sunday morning that General Johnson throwed up his
hand at Raleigh. Done with the war!
"Before Freedom I have a good enough time. Just lay round the house and
wait on my boss. When Freedom come and I did have to get out and work it
most kill me!
"After Freedom my mother wash for family to Beaver Creek. And after
Freedom my father went to working on shares. Old Maas John called 'em up
and tell 'em,
"'You free, Asa. You free, Lewis. You free, Handy. You free, Wash. You
can do as you please. You have to fadge for yourself now.'
"Mass John Williams had four hundred slaves. He was a man had the
colored people. He didn't work all on his own plantation. He'd hire out
his people to work turpentine.----Put 'em out for so much a year. He'd
give 'em blanket, suit, coat, pants. First of the year come, Boss would
collect wages for all he hire out.
"That there my second wife. You know how a man is. How many wife I had?
Two or three. Lemme see! (Looking at present wife) You is one! You the
last one! Fust one been Jinny Lind. Next one been Mary Dickson. And
Caressa Pyatt been one! And there been another one! I forgot that woman
name! Got it in my mouth and can't call it! I'll call the name of them
others I take up with in a little while! One was Caline; one was Tissue;
(Tisha?) I take them a little while and if they didn't do to suit me, I
put 'em out! Some I didn't stay with long nuff to find out they name!
Jinny Lind sister was Tissue. Jinny Lind gone, try her sister. Just a
'make out'. If they didn't do to suit me, I'd give 'em the devil and put
'em out.
"Don't know bout beating woman. Some say that bout,
'Woman, dog, cypress knee
more you beat'em the better they be!'
"But some woman, the more you beat 'em the worse the devil gets in 'em.
Get so they won't 'GEE' nor 'HAW'.
"When I was house boy for old Mass John, waiting on white people, that
was the best and easiest time I ever had. Ever Satdy drive Mass John to
Fayetteville. Ever Satdy they'd think that store belong to me! I'd eat
lumps of brown sugar out the barrel, candy, crackers. Did as I please
then; NOW do as I kin!
"'Ways of woman and ways of snake deeper than the sea!' I take that to
mean----mighty few can tell by the trail of a snake whether its coming
or going----
"I hear story bout the rabbit and the fox--all them old things--Some
times my mind franzy. Been break up too much! Break two ribs to the
lumber mill. Jump out a cart one day and run a ten penny nail through my
foot. That lay me up two months. Some mean people ketch me up by that
tree yonder with a car and that lay me up sixty-five days. They pick me
up for dead that time. All that make my mind get franzy sometimes. Come
and go--Come and go."
SOURCE: Uncle Willis Williams. Age, 89 to 90 years old. Conway, S.C.
(Horry County).
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=May 25, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I was a Garmany before I married Calvin Wilson. My father was Henry
Garmany, and my mother Sidney Boozer. My husband was in the Confederate
army with his master. Dey was near Charleston on de coast. I was slave
of Lemuel Lane, of de Dutch Fork. He was killed after de war, some say
by some of his young slaves, but we'uns did not know naything about who
killed him. We had a good house to live in on Marse Lane's plantation. I
used to work around the house and in de fields. My mother was a good
seamstress and helped de white folks sew, and she learn't me to sew had
help too. We didn't get any money for our work. One time after de war,
dey paid me only $5.00 and I quit 'em. My mother hired me out to work
for her, and I didn't have any money, still; so I said I better get me a
man of my own. Marse Lane was mean to most of us, but good to me. He
whipped me once and I deserved it because I wouldn't answer him when he
called me. He jes' give me about two licks. He was mean to my mother,
but he wouldn't let his white overseer whip us, and wouldn't let de
padder-rollers come around. He said he could look-out for his own
slaves.
"We didn't learn to read and write, but some of de white folks had
learned my mother, and she learned me some.
"Niggers had to go to church at New Hope, de white folks' church, in
slavery time and after de war too. We had Saturday afternoons to do what
we wanted, and we washed clothes then.
"On Christmas, Marse would give de slaves some good things to eat and
send some to dere families. Niggers had frolics at dere houses sometimes
on Saturday nights. When I married, I had a good hot supper.
"Children played all de ole games like, play-ball (throwing over the
house), marbles and base.
"Some saw ghosts, but I never saw any of dem.
"Old-time cures was peach tree leaves boiled and drunk for fever; wild
cherry bark was good for most anything if took at night. I have used it
for curing some things. The best cure I know, is turpentine and a little
oil mixed. Swallow it and it will fix you up.
"The Yanks went through our place and took two of the best horses we
had. One had a tail that reached the ground. Dey stole lots of victuals.
I 'member de Ku Klux wid dere long white sheets, and den de Red Coats
wid white breeches. Dey would walk or ride, but dey never harmed us.
"I don't know much about Abe Lincoln, but I reckon he was a good man,
and Jeff Davis, too. I don't know Booker Washington but heard he was a
good man.
"I joined de church because de white folks did. Dey wants to go to
heaven and I do too. I think everybody ought to try to do right. I used
to think we could make heaven down here, but if we jes' do right, dats
all we can do."
Source: Emoline Wilson (90), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 21, 1937.
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=Sept. 22, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I was born in Newberry County near Cannon's Creek section in the Dutch
Fork. I was a slave of Lemuel Lane. He was killed by some slaves just
after freedom. They killed him for his money but didn't find any, it was
said. When freedom come, my mistress give me some things to eat when we
left.
"I can't work much any more; I am old and I can't get about. I live with
my son who works when he can find work. We rent a two-room cottage in
town.
"I never heard anything about slaves getting 40 acres of land and a
mule. None in that section got any. We had to go to work for other
people.
"The Ku Klux Klan never bothered us then, and we never had nothing to do
with them, nor with politics.
"There was no slaves living in our section who had come from Virginia."
Source: Emoline Wilson (90), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/10/37
(See ES IV, MS. #13).
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=June 15, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I am daughter of Billy Robertson and Louisa Robertson; was born about
77 years ago in Newberry, on Marse Job Johnstone's place. My father
lived with Judge Job Johnstone as his extra man or servant. He lived in
the house with him, slept in his room and waited on him when he became
old; and, too, was the driver of his carriage. He drove him to other
courthouses to hold court. After the war, my father was janitor at
Newberry College, and he was liked by professors, students, and
everybody who knew him as 'Uncle Billy'. At commencement, he always made
a speech at night on the campus, which the students enjoyed. He told
about his travels from Virginia to Newberry before the war. Judge
Johnstone never wanted anybody else to be with him when he traveled.
"I belonged to the Avelleigh Presbyterian Church in Newberry, and was
christened in the church by the preacher, the Rev. Buist. Colored people
were allowed to be members and set in the gallery when they went to
church.
"After the war, a colored man named Amos Baxter was killed by the Ku
Klux at the old courthouse. My father was on Judge Johnstone's farm a
few miles away. He was sent for and came with another colored man to
town, and prayed and preached over the body of Baxter. The Ku Klux came
to kill my father for doing this, but they never caught him.
"I had to stay home most of the time and help mama keep house. I never
worked in the field but once, and the job was so poor they put me back
in the house. That was the old Nance place.
"Once I saw a man hung in Newberry. He was a negro named Thompson and
killed a white man named Reid. He killed him at a store in Pomaria and
burned it over his body. He was hung near the railroad, and a big crowd
was there to see it. That was my first time to see a man hung, and I
promised God it would be my last. They asked the negro if he had
anything to say, and give him five minutes to talk. He was setting on a
box smoking; then he got up and said he reckoned his time was over, he
was sorry for all the bad things he had done; that he had killed a boy
once for 25 cents, and had killed a little girl for 20 cents. He was
sorry for his wife and three weeks old baby. His wife saw him hung.
"The Ku Klux wanted to kill any white people who was Republicans. They
killed some negroes. A white man named Murtishaw killed Lee Nance, a
store keeper. I was a little girl and saw it. Some little children was
standing out in front. Murtishaw came up and said he wanted to buy
something or pretended he wanted to; then he went up to Nance, pulled
his pistol quick and shot him through the throat and head.
"Judge Johnstone's kitchen was away from the house, a brick building.
They had large ovens and wide fireplaces in which they cooked.
"My father's favorite horses, when he drove the family, was 'Knox' and
'Calvin', which they kept for many years. When they died the mistress
cried awfully about it.
"My husband died at old Mr. Dan Ward's place, on College Hill, where he
was living then."
Source: Jane Wilson (77), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/9/37)
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, June 11, 1937=
=MOM GENIA WOODBERRY=
=Ex-Slave, 89 years=
"Glad to see yunnah. Who dese udder wid yah? Who yuh? Lawd, I glad to
see yunnah. I nu'se aw Miss Susan fust chillun. Ne'er nu'se dem las'uns.
Sicily been yo' mamma nu'se. Nu'se Massa Ben Gause child fust en den I
nu'se four head uv Miss Susan chillun a'ter she marry Massa Jim
Stevenson. Sleep right dere wid dem chillun aw de time. Miss Susan ne'er
didn't suckle none uv dem chillun. I tell yunnah dis much, Massa Jim
Stevenson was good to aw uv his colored people en Miss Susan wuz good to
me. I sho' born right down yonner to Massa Ben Gause plantation. Gade
Caesar en Mary Gause wuz my parents. Yas'um, I is glad to see dese
chillun cause yuh know whey white folks hab feeling fa yah, it sho' make
yuh hab feeling fa dey chillun. I ole now en I can' 'member eve'yt'ing
but I ain' ne'er forge' wha' good times dem wuz."
"My Lawd! Yas, my Lawd, de peoples lib well dere to Massa Jim Stevenson
plantation. De white folks hab big house dere wid eve'yt'ing 'bout it
jes lak uh town. I couldn't tell yunnah how many colored peoples dey hab
dere but I know dis, I hear em say dere wuz more den two hundred uv em
dat lib in de quarter. Dey house wuz in uh field offen to itself dere on
de plantation en wuz strung aw up en down in two long row lak. Dey wuz
set up in good libin' den."
"Coase I ain' lib dere in de quarter wid de udder colored peoples a'ter
I ge' big 'nough to be nu'se girl, but I know how dey fare dere. My
Massa hab uh smoke house full uv meat en uh barn full uv corn aw de time
en eve'y Friday a'ternoon aw de colored peoples hadder do wuz to go dere
to de big house en ge' dey share uv meat en 'lasses en corn to las' em
de whole week. Ne'er hadder worry nuthin 'bout it tall. Dey hab dey
gristmill right dere whey dey grind dat corn eve'y week. Yah ain' ne'er
see no sech barn en heap uv meat dese days uz dey hab den. Dem hog
killin' days wuz big times fa dem plantation peoples. It jes lak I
tellin' yunnah my Massa gi'e he colored peoples mos' eve't'ing dey hab
en den he 'low eve'y family to hab uh acre uv land uv dey own to plant.
Hadder work dat crop in de night. Make light wid fat light'ud stump wha'
to see by. Dat crop wha' dey buy dey Sunday clothes wid. Ne'er hadder
hunt no clothes but dey Sunday clothes cause dey hab seamstress right
dere on de plantation to make aw us udder clothes. Miss Susan larnt Aun'
Cynthia en Starrah en Tenna to cut en sew dere to de big house en a'ter
dat dey ne'er do nuthin but make de plantation clothes."
"Aw de colored peoples dere to Miss Susan plantation hab dey certain
business to go 'bout eve'y day en dey ne'er didn't shirk dat neither.
Miss Susan ain' 'low fa no slack way 'round whey she was. Dere been
Yaneyki wha' hadder jes wait on Miss Susan; Becky, de house girl; Aun'
Hannah, de one wha' cook in de big house; Aun' Dicey, wha' al'ays clean
up de white folks kitchen; en Sanco, de house boy. Den I wuz de nu'se
dere fa dem chillun. Ne'er lak it but I ha'e it to do. Hadder stay right
dere to de big house aw de time. Miss Susan ne'er wouldn't 'low me take
dem chillun 'way offen no whey en eve'ybody hadder be mindful uv wha'
dey say 'fore dem chillun too. I 'member dat big ole joggling board dere
on de front piazza dat I use'er ge' de chillun to sleep on eve'y
evenin'. I be dere singin' one uv dem baby song to de child en it make
me hu't lak in me bosom to be wid my ole mammy back up dere in de
quarter. Coase I ain' le' nobody know dat. Dere ain' nobody ne'er been
no better den Miss Susan wuz to me. It jes lak dis, I wuz jes uh child
den en yah know it uh child happiness to be raise up wid dey mammy."
"Den de colored peoples lib mighty peaceful lak dere in de quarter cause
dey ne'er hadder worry 'bout how nuthin come. My Massa see dat dey hab
decent libin' aw de time en 'bundance uv eve't'ing dey need. Hadder keep
'round 'bout dey premises clean up eve'whey. I tellin' yuh, child, my
white folks wuz 'ticular uv dey colored peoples when dey wuz sick. Dey
hab big ole me'icine book dat dey take down when one uv dem ge' sick en
see could dey find wha' wuz good fa dey ailment. Den Miss Susan'ud send
in de woods en ge' wha' it say mix up fa de remedy en make de me'icine
right dere to de big house. Miss Susan'ud al'ays doctor de plantation
peoples en carry em nice basket uv t'ing eve'y time dey wuz sick. Effen
Miss Susan t'ink dey hab mucha co'plaint, den dey'ud send fa de
plantation doctor 'bout dere. Annuder t'ing dey ne'er didn't 'low de
colored girls to work none tall 'fore dey wuz shape lak uh 'oman cause
dey 'fraid dat might strain dey ne'ves."
"Aw de colored peoples wha' ne'er hab no work to do 'bout de big house
wuz field hand en dey hadder ge' up at de fust crow uv de cock in de
morning en go up to de big house en see wha' dey wan' em to do dat day.
Coase dey eat dey break'ast 'fore dey leab de quarter. Effen de sun look
lak it wuz gwinna shine, de o'erseer'ud send em in de field to work en
dey'ud stay in de field aw day till sun up in de evenin'. Carry dey
basket uv victual en pot 'long wid em en cook right dere in de field.
Jes put dey peas en bacon in de pot en build up big fire 'bout it close
whey dey wuz workin' cause eve'y now en den dey hadder push de fire to
de pot. Den some uv de day dey'ud go in de tatoe patch en dig tatoe en
roast em in de coals. Effen it wuz uh rainy day, dey ne'er go in de
field. Shuck corn dat day. Dat wuz how dey done."
"Aw dem wha' work right dere to de big house al'ays wuz fed from Miss
Susan table to de kitchen. Dere wuz Gran'mudder Phoebe who hadder look
a'ter eve't'ing 'bout Miss Susan dairy. De plantation peoples'ud bring
dey gourd eve'y morning en leab it dere to de dairy fa Gran'mudder
Phoebe to hab fill wid clabber fa em to carry home in de evenin'. Den
when Gran'mudder Phoebe wuz finish wid aw de churning, she use'er pour
wha' clabber wuz left o'er in uh big ole wooden tray under uh tree dere
close to de dairy en call aw dem little plantation chillun dere whey she
wuz. She gi'e eve'yone uv em uh iron spoon en le' em eat jes uz mucha
dat clabber uz dey c'n hold. A'ter dat she clean up eve'yt'ing 'bout de
dairy en den she go to de big house en ge' her dinner. Gran'mudder
Phoebe say she could set down en eat wid sati'faction den cause she know
she wuz t'rough wid wha' been her portion uv work dat day."
"Den dere wuz Patience wha' work to de loom house. She help do aw de
weaving fa de plantation. Weave aw t'rough de winter en aw t'rough de
summer. She make aw kinder uv pretty streak in de cloth outer de yarn
dat dey dye right dere on de plantation wid t'ing dat dey ge' outer de
woods lak walnut wha' make brown, en cedar en sweet gum wha' make
purple. Den dey make de blue cloth outer dat t'ing dat dey raise right
dere on de plantation call indigo. Dere some uv dat indigo dat does grow
up dere on de Sand Hills dis day en time but ain' nobody ne'er worry
'bout it no more."
"Jes uh little way from de loom house wuz de shoe house whey Uncle
Lon'on hadder make shoe aw de day. I 'member dey is make aw de
plantation shoe dere. Make em outer cow hide wha' dey hadder tan fust.
Jes put de cow hide in uh trough en kiver it aw o'er wid oak en water en
le' it soak till de hair come offen it. Den dey take it outer dat en
beat it 'cross uh log hard uz dey c'n till dey ge' it right soft lak.
A'ter dat ley out de shoe lak dey wan' it en sew it up wid dem long hair
wha' dey ge' outer de hosses neck. Dat jes de way dey make aw we shoe
den."
"Minus en Chrissus Gause hab job dere to de gin house. Dey'ud jes put de
cotton in dat gin en de seed go one way en de lent go de udder way.
Minus hadder feed de gin en dem udder helper hadder hand de cotton. Den
Bacchus hadder work de screw dat press de bale togedder. Yunnah chillun
ain' ne'er see nuthin lak dat dese days. Dem hosses pull dat t'ing round
en round en dat screw ge' tighter en tighter. Turn out pretty uh bale uv
cotton us yunnah e'er hear 'bout in no time tall. My Lawd, I 'member dey
is hab bale uv cotton pile up aw 'bout dat gin house."
"En dey is hab dey own blacksmith shop dere on de place down to de place
call de big water. Aw dem peoples from plantation aw 'bout come dere fa
Fortune to mend dey plow en t'ing lak dat."
"Yas'um, plantation peoples hadder go dere to de Ole Neck Chu'ch eve'y
Sunday. I hear em say dat wuz uh Methodist Chu'ch. Aw dem well to do
folks hab dey own pew up dere in de front uv de chu'ch wha dey set on
eve'y Sunday. Dey seat wuz painted pretty lak uh bedstead en den de poor
peoples set in de middle uv de chu'ch in de yellow kind uv seat. Aw de
colored peoples hadder set in de blue seat in de back uv de chu'ch.
Peoples ne'er rank togedder den lak yah see de peoples rank togedder
dese days. Miss Susan Stevenson en Miss Harriett Woodberry en Miss
Maggie McWhite wuz de ones wha' pull togedder den. Know dey chillun time
dey hit dat chu'ch door. C'n tell em by dey skin. My blessed, chillun,
dere wuz sech uh diffe'ence."
"Dat Ole Neck Chu'ch de same chu'ch wha' yunnah see stand two mile up
dat road. Dem peoples oughtna hadder move dat chu'ch neither cause it
been dere long time 'fore dey come heah. Ain' been right to do dat. Dem
wha' put dat chu'ch dere bury right dere in dat cemetery right 'bout
whey dey chu'ch wuz en dem udder peoples ain' hab no right to take dey
chu'ch 'way a'ter dey been gone."
"De peoples ne'er hab no cars lak dese peoples hab 'bout heah now. My
white folks hab carriage en two big ole white hosses wha' to ride to
se'vice en whey dey wanna go den. Coase dey ne'er go aw de time lak dese
peoples does dis day en time. Lawd, dem hosses could pull dat carriage
too. Dey wuz name Selam en Prince. My Massa en Missus hab seat in de
back uv de carriage en I hadder set up dere 'tween dem en de driver en
nu'se dem chillun. Isaac wuz Miss Susan driver en he hab seat aw uv he
own on de front whey he could mind de hosses. My Lawd, I 'member how I
did use'er lub to set up dere in Miss Susan carriage."
"Dese peoples dese days don' know nuthin 'bout dem times den. I 'member
how dey use'er sell de colored peoples offen to annuder plantation some
uv de time. Man come dere to buy my Gran'mudder a'ter Massa Ben Gause
die en tell her to open she mouth so he c'n 'xamine her teeth. Say she
say, 'I won' do it.' Wanna know effen dey wuz sound 'fore he buy her.
Dat de way dey do when dey sell hosses."
"I 'member when dem Yankees come 'bout dere too. Hear Massa Jim
Stevenson say dey mus' herry en hide dey va'uables cause de Yankees wuz
comin' t'rough dere en sweep em out. Dey bury dey silver en dey gold
watch in de graveyard up in de Beech Field. (De Beech Field wuz de place
whey de Indian use'er camp long time ago cause de peoples use'er find aw
kinder bead en arrow head wha' dey left dere.) Den Miss Susan put trunk
full uv her nice t'ing to de colored peoples house. Ain' been 'fraid de
Yankees bother em dere. Didn't no Yankees come no whey 'bout dere till
a'ter freedom 'clare en den two uv em come dere en stay right dere to de
big house. Dey come to 'vide outer de corn. Hab pile uv corn sot aw
'bout de born (barn) dere wid name uv de colored peoples stick 'bout in
eve'y pile."
"Yas'um, I 'member dat aw right. Marry in March dere to my pa house. Us
ne'er left Massa Jim Stevenson plantation a'ter freedom 'clare. Ne'er
wanna hunt no better libin' den we hab dere. My Lawd, dere sho' wuz big
doing 'bout dere when I go' hitch up to Joe Woodberry. Pa kill uh shoat
en dey bake cake en hab aw kinder ration cook up. I hab pretty dress
make outer white swiss muslin wha' I marry in en aw dem peoples wuz
dress up dat evenin'. Dat wuz pretty uh sight uz dere e'er wuz when dey
ge' to blowing dat cane en knockin' dem stick en dey aw wuz uh jiggin'
'bout."
"Chillun, seem lak aw de good time gone from heah now. Peoples sho'
gotta scuffle fa wha' dey hab dis day en time en den effen dey ge' it,
dere ain' no sati'faction no whey 'bout it. T'ing ain' gwinna do nobody
no good effen dey gotta worry dey head so mucha 'bout whey de next
comin' from."
"Good day, honey. Come back 'g'in. Yunnah white en I black, but I lub
yuh."
_Source_: MOM GENIA WOODBERRY (Eugenia Woodeberry), age
89, colored, Britton's Neck, S.C. (Personal interview,
June 1937)
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, November 23, 1937=
=JULIA WOODBERRY=
=Ex-Slave, Age ____=
"Come in, child. Dis ain' nobody talkin to you from behind dat door, but
Julia Woodberry. De door unlatch, just turn de handle en come right in
here whe' you can warm yourself by de stove. I tell my daughter for her
to take de sick child en walk over dere en make Aun' Liney a visit,
while I wipe round bout dis stove a little speck. Cose I ain' able to
scour none much, but seems like dis old stove does keep everything so
nasty up dat I can' let things bout it get too worser. No, child, I tell
dese chillun I done seen most all my scourin days, but I think bout I
would do this little job for Alexa dis mornin en let her put her mind to
dat child. I say, if I able, I loves to wipe up cause it such a
satisfaction. It just like dis, dere ain' nothin gwine shine dat floor
en make it smell like I want it to, but soap en water. I don' like dese
old stoves nohow. I ain' been raise to dem cause when I come up, de
olden people didn' think nothin bout puttin no stoves to dey fireplaces.
Oh, dey would have dese big old open fireplaces en would have de
grandest kind of fires. My Lord, child, dere wouldn' never be no
nastiness bout dey fireplace cause de people never didn' burn no coal in
dem days. Slavery people been burn dese great big oak logs en dey would
make de finest kind of fires, I say. Yes, mam, I been raise up de
slavery way en dat how-come I don' want to be noways departin from it."
"Oh, dat was my granddaughter dat had de straw fever. Yes, mam, look
like she mendin right smart since she been settin up. De straw fever,
dat what I calls it, but I hear people say it de hay fever. De doctor,
he just say it de fever, but from de way he give de pills, it point to
de straw fever. Cose dat what we termed it, but like I tell you, some
calls it de hay fever. I ain' never hear talk of dat kind of fever till
dese late years. Yes, mam, she had a little cold en cough some, but not
much. You see, when she first took down, she took wid a blindness en a
pain in de stomach at de school en couldn' say nothin. De doctor say de
fever was bout broke on her den. You see, she had de pain en, I say, dat
a sign de misery broke on her. But dat child, she lay dere on dat bed
three weeks en she been mighty weak, mighty weak from de fever. No, mam,
she ain' have de fever all de time, but dere would come a slow fever dat
would rise on her every night en eat up what strength she had caught
durin de day. Cose she ain' never been hearty cause she been havin dis
fever long bout two years. No, mam, she been test for de T.B.'s in de
school dis last year en dey say dat she never had none of dat. Alexa
say she gwine let her get dem shots in time next year. All de school
chillun took dem last year. Dey tell me dat be to keep diseases down in
school. Cose I don' know nothin bout it cause I been raise de slavery
way en dat won' de talk den.
"My mother, she was a freeborn woman. She come from off de sea beach in
our own country. Her people was dese Chee Indians en she didn' have no
ways like dese other people bout here. Now, I talkin out of her. Ain'
talkin out of nobody else, but her. She told me she was born on de sea
beach en her parents was Chee Indians. Dat what she told us chillun.
Say, when dey stole her en her brother John, dey come dere in dese big
old covered wagons en dey stuffed dem way back up in dere en carried dem
off. Oh, she say, she was a big girl when dey run her down en caught
her. Like I tell you, I talkin out of her. Her en her brother John was
out playin one day, near their sea beach home, en first thing dey know,
dere come one of dem big old covered wagons dere. Say, dey never know
what to think till dey see dis white man gettin down off de wagon en
start makin for dem en dey get scared cause dey been learn white man
won' no friend. Say, dey broke en run, but de man come right after dem
en grabbed dem up wid his hands en stuffed dem way back up in de covered
wagon en drove off. She say, she was runnin hard as she could from de
man. I remember, I heard my mother speak bout dat she didn' reckon her
mother ever knew whe' dey went. She say, dey cried en cried, but dat
never do no good. No, mam, de lawyer Phillips stole her. He didn' buy
her cause she told me dey brought dem right on to his home en put dem
out dere. Her en her brother John were made house servants in de big
house en dey went from one to de other in de Phillips' family till after
freedom come here. Ma, she say dat she fared good en dey didn' ill treat
her no time, but wouldn' never allow dem to get out de family no more
durin slavery days. No, mam, she never didn' have no hard time comin up.
Cose she had to put de white people chillun to bed at night en den she
could go to parties cross Catfish much as she wanted to, but she would
have to be back in time to cook dat breakfast next mornin. You see, dey
was house servants en dey stayed right dere in de lawyer Phillips' house
all de time. Been raise right down dere in dat grove of cedars cross
from de jail."
"Well, she didn' say bout dat. No, mam, she didn' have no word bout whe'
if she liked de white folks livin or no when she first come dere. You
know, when you in Rome, you has to do as Rome do. Reckon dat de way de
poor creature took it. No, child, she didn' tell us nothin bout her home
no more den dat she was born a Chee Indian. Yes, mam, my blessed old
mother told me dat a thousand times."
"My God, my God, child, I couldn' never forget my old mother's face. She
bore a round countenance all de time wid dese high cheek bones en
straight hair. I talkin out of her now. Yes, mam, can see Ma face dere
fore my eyes right now. It de blessed truth, my old mother didn' have no
common ways bout her nowhe'. I don' know whe' it true or no, but de
people used to say I took after my mother. I recollects, when I would be
workin round de white folks, dey would ax me how-come I been have dem
kind of way bout me what was different from de other colored people. You
know, de Indians, dey got curious ways. My mother, she wouldn' never
take a thing from nobody en she was sharp to pick a fight. Yes, mam, she
was quick as dat. (Slaps her hands together.) Been fast gettin insulted.
Anybody make her mad, she would leave away from dem en dey wouldn' see
her no more in a month or two. Hear boss say dat she was quick
tempered."
"Well, child, dat bout all I can know to speak bout dis mornin. You see,
some days I can get my 'membrance back better den I can on another day.
I say, I gwine get my mind fixed up wid a heap to tell you de next time
you come here en if you ain' come back, I gwine try en get round dere to
your house. God bless you, honey."
_Source_: Julia Woodberry, Ex-Slave, Age 70-80, Marion, S.C.
Personal interview by Annie R. Davis, Nov., 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, November 30, 1937=
=JULIA WOODBERRY=
=Ex-Slave, Age= ____
"Oh, my God a mercy, child, dat been a time when dat shake come here. I
tell you, dat been somethin. I sho remember all bout dat cause I been a
grown woman de year dat earthquake come here. Yes, mam, I gwine tell it
to you just like I experience it. We had all just been get over wid us
supper en little things dat night en I had washed Auntie en Mr. Rowell's
feet for dem to lie down en dere come such a sketch of clouds from over
in dat direction dat I never know what to make of it. Auntie en Mr.
Rowell never know what to make of it neither. I remember, I run out to
help my sister dat been out to de paddlin block en, honey, you ain'
never live to see no black cloud like dat been. I washed a piece through
en den I left off en went back in de house en set down by de fire to dry
my feet. I set dere awhile en seems like somethin just speak right out
de fire, bout dat time, en tell me to move my feet dat I was in bad
shape. En, child, it de truth of mercy, dere come a big clog of dirt out
dat chimney en drap (drop) right down in de spot whe' my foot was. I run
to Auntie en Mr. Rowell to see could dey tell what dat was, but dey been
in just as much darkness as I been. I look up en seems like de loft had
lowered itself en could hear a roarin for miles en miles bout dere en
could hear de people hollerin every which a way. Yes, mam, could hear
dem hollerin miles en on top of miles bout dere. My God, dem people was
scared to lie down dat night en such a prayin en a shoutin as everybody
do dat night, I ain' never see de like fore den. Ain' see de like since
den neither. Next mornin, I go to work for de white folks en dey all go
off dat mornin en I tell you, I was scared bout to death in dat big
house by myself. I remember, I left out de house en been out in de
'tatoe patch grabblin 'tatoes right along en when I raise up, dat thing
was comin down dat 'tatoe row just a whirlin en a makin right for me.
Yes, mam, I been so scared. I ain' see whe' I is grow a bit since de
shake. I tell you, I thought it was de Jedgment. Den we hear dere was
gwine be another earthquake, but de people get on dey knees en dey stay
on dey knees en it never come here dat time. Dat one was in another
state, so dey tell me. I hear talk dat all de earth caved in en you
could see de people down dere, but couldn' nobody get dem. Some people
say dat been de devil do dat, but I tell dem de devil ain' had no such
power. De Lord been de power dat bring dat shake here, I say."
"Oh, Lord, de people sho fared better in dat day en time den dey do dese
days. Cose dey didn' have a heap of different kind of trashy things like
dey have dese days, but dey had a plenty to eat en a plenty to wear all
de time en den everything was better in dem times, too. Now, I speak
bout what I know bout. De rations eat better en de cloth wear better,
too, in dem days den dey do now. You see, mostly, de people would make
dey own provisions at home. White folks would raise abundance of hogs en
cows to run all dey big plantation from one year to de other. Wouldn'
never clear out of meat no time cause de stock been let loose to run at
large in dem days. De most dat dey bought was dey sugar en dey coffee,
but dem what was industrious en smart, dey made most dey victuals at
home. Made dey own rice en winnowed it right dere home. Oh, dey had one
of dese pestle en mortar to beat it out. Yes, mam, de pestle been big at
one end an little at de other end. Den dey would raise turkeys en geese
en chickens en dere wasn' no end to de birds en squirrels en rabbits en
fish in dat day en time. Dat is, dem what cared for demselves, dey had
all dem things. Cose dere was some den like dere be now dat been too
lazy to work en dey hand was empty all de time. I remember, dem
poorbuckras would just go bout from one house to another en catch
somethin here, dere en yonder."
"Den de people never wore none of dese kind of clothes like de people
wear dese days neither. When a person got a dress den, dey made it
demselves en dey made dey own underskirts den, too. You see, all dese
underskirts en bloomers like de people does buy dese days, dey didn'
have nothin like dat den. Used to put 10 yard in a dress en 10 yards in
a underskirt en would tuck dem clean up to dey waist. En, child, when
dey would iron dat dress, it would stand up in de floor just like dere
been somebody in it. When I say iron, I talkin bout de people would iron
den, too. Yes, mam, when I come along, de people been take time to iron
dey garments right. Oh, dey clothes would be just as slick as glass.
Won' a wrinkle nowhe' bout dem. Another thing, dey used to have dese
dove colored linen dusters dat dey would wear over dey dress when dey
would ride to church. Den when dey went in de church, dey would pull dem
off en put dem on again when dey started home. Dey was made sort of like
a coat suit, except dey was a little fuller en would come clean down to
de tail of de dress. You see, dey was meant to protect de dress while
dey was gwine along de road."
"De world sho gwine worser dese days, honey. Oh, Lord, de people worser.
Yes, mam, dey worser, I say. Dey ain' got de mother wit. Dey weaker en
dey wiser, I say, but dey ain' got de mother wit. Can' set down en talk
to de people dese days en dey take dat what you got to say in like dey
used to. En de people don' take de time to teach de chillun to know
good things like dey used to en dat how-come dey have more time to get
in so much of devilment dese days. Yes, mam, de people used to have more
chillun en dey raised dem, too. Chillun know more den grown people do
dese days, I say. People used to know how to carry demselves en take
care of demselves more den dey do now. Seems like, de people more
rattlin en brazen den what dey used to be."
_Source_: Julia Woodberry, colored, Marion, S.C.--Age, 70-80.
Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, November 5, 1937=
=JULIA WOODBERRY=
=Ex-Slave, Age ____=
"Well, I can speak bout what I used to hear my auntie en my mammy en my
grandmammy talk bout what happen in dey day, but I never didn' live in
slavery time. My mammy, she been broke her leg long time fore freedom
come here en I remember she tell me often times, say, 'Julia, you didn'
lack much of comin here a slavery child.' Honey, I mean she been in de
family way right sharp fore freedom come here.
"My mammy, she was raise right down dere to de other side de jail to de
'Cedars'. You know dere whe' all dem cedars round dat house what bout to
fall down. She belong to de lawyer Phillips dere en he wouldn' never
allow her to get out de family. She had been a free woman fore he had
stole her off de sea beach to be his house woman. Yes, mam, stole my
mammy en uncle John, too, off de sea beach, but uncle John went back
after freedom come here. My mammy, she been raise from just a child to
be de house woman dere to de lawyer Phillips en she never didn' know
nothin bout choppin cotton till her last baby been bout knee high.
"I remember how my mammy used to tell me bout dat de colored people won'
allowed to go from one plantation to another widout dey had a 'mit
(permit) from dey Massa. Yes, mam, all de niggers had to have dat strip
somewhat bout dem to keep from gettin a beatin. Couldn' leave dey home
widout showin dat 'mit from dey Massa. You see, de nigger men would
want to go to see dey wives en dey would have to get a 'mit from dey
Massa to visit dem. Cose dey wouldn' live together cause dey wives would
be here, dere en yonder. It been like dis, sometimes de white folks
would sell de wife of one of dey niggers way from dey husband en den
another time, dey would sell de husband way from dey wife. Yes, mam,
white folks had dese guard, call patroller, all bout de country to catch
en whip dem niggers dat been prowl bout widout dat strip from dey Massa.
I remember I hear talk dey say, 'Patroller, Patroller, let nigger pass.'
Dey would say dat if de nigger had de strip wid dem en if dey didn' have
it, dey say, 'Patroller, Patroller, cut nigger slash.'"
"Child, I tell you dat been a day to speak bout. When I come along, de
women never vote, white nor colored, en it been years since I see a
colored person vote, but I remember dey been gwine to vote in dat day en
time just like dey was gwine to a show. Oh, honey, de road would be full
of dem. Dey had to vote. Remember, way back dere, everybody would be
singin en a dancin when dey had de election:
'Hancock ride de big gray horse,
Hampton ride de mule,
Hancocks got elected,
Buckras all turn fool.
Buggety, buggety, buggety etc.'"
"White en black was all in a row dere dancin all night long. Ain' made
no exception."
"I hear talk dat when freedom come here, de niggers was just turn loose
to make dey livin de best way dey could. Say dat some of de white folks
give dey niggers somethin to go on en some of dem didn' spare dem
nothin. Dey tell me old Sherman didn' come through dis section of de
country, but he sent somebody to divide out de things like so much corn
en so much meat to de colored people. Now, I talkin bout dat what I hear
de old people say. Put everything in Ben Thompson hand to deal out de
colored people share to dem. Yes, mam, he was de one had de chair. Talk
bout Sherman give Ben Thompson de chair, sayin what I hear de old people
say. I don' know exactly how it was, it been so long since de old people
talk wid me. Dat it, it been so long till God knows, I forgot."
"Well, I used to know a heap of dem songs dat I hear my auntie en my
grandmammy sing dere home when I was comin up. Let me see, child, dey
was natural born song too.
'I got somethin to tell you,
Bow-hoo, oo-hoo, oo-hoo.
I got somethin to tell you,
Bow-hoo, oo-hoo, oo-hoo.
In a bow-hoo, oo-oo-hoo.
Way cross de ocean,
'Mongst all dem nation,
Massa Jesus promise me,
He gwine come by en by,
He gwine come by en by.
Dere many miles round me,
De curried be so bold,
To think dat her son, Jesus,
Could write widout a pen,
Could write widout a pen.
De very next blessin dat Mary had,
She had de blessin of two,
To think dat her son, Jesus,
Could bring de crooked to straight,
Could bring de crooked to straight.'"
"Dat was my auntie's grandmother Eve piece way back yonder in slavery
time. Dat was her piece."
"It just like I tellin you, dat been a day to speak bout. I remember
when dey used to spin en weave all de cloth right dere home. Yes, mam, I
wore many a wove dress to church. Dey would get dis here indigo en all
kind of old bark out de woods en boil it in de pot wid de yarn en make
de prettiest kind of colors. Den dey would take dat colored yarn en
weave all kind of pretty streaks in de cloth. Dey would know just as
good how many yards of dat thread it would take to make so much of
cloth."
"Yes, mam, I know dere been better livin long time ago den dere be now.
Know it cause I didn' never have no worryations no time when I was comin
up. My God, child, I couldn' make a support today if I know my neck had
to be hung on de gallows. No, mam, dis here a sin cussed world de people
livin in dis day en time."
_Source_: Julia Woodberry, colored, Marion, S.C.
Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, October-November, 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, November 16, 1937=
=JULIA WOODBERRY=
=Ex-Slave, Age ____=
"No, mam, I ain' thought bout nothin no more to tell you. Death been in
de family en seems like I just been so worried up wid my daughter sick
in de house dere wid de straw fever. De doctor, he say it de fever en
dat all we know, but it acts like de straw fever all up en down. I tell
dem chillun dere de other night dat I would have to go back en get my
mind fixed up wid somethin to speak bout fore you come here another
time. Yes, mam, have to get my mind together somewhe' or another."
"I been born down dere in Britton's Neck, but most my days was lived up
to Mr. Jim Brown's place to Centenary. My father, he was name Friday
Woodberry en my mother, she come from off de sea beach in slavery time,
so she told me. Say dat her old Massa stole her en her brother John,
too, from off de sea beach. When freedom come here, her brother John
went back to de sea beach, but my mother say dat she won' in no shape to
go back. She went from family to family till after freedom was declared
en her white folks wouldn' never have her ill-treated neither en wouldn'
never let nobody else have her no time. When she was let loose from de
white people, she went to Britton's Neck wid a colored woman. You see,
she was a stranger to de country bout dere fore freedom come en she
been know dat woman en dat how-come she went wid her. I mean she didn'
know de people bout dere cause de white folks didn' allow dey colored
people to go bout much in slavery time. Couldn' go nowhe' widout dey had
a ticket wid dem. She stayed dere in Britton's Neck till Pa died en den
she come back up here to Marion to live, but her white people was
scattered all bout den."
"No, mam, I ain' never marry cause you had to court on de sly in dat day
en time. I tell you, I come through de devil day when I come along. I
was learned to work by de old, old slavery way en, honey, I say dat I
just as soon been come through slavery day as to come under a tight
taskmassa dat was colored. Yes, mam, if I never did a thing right, my
dress was over my head en I was whipped right dere. I was engaged by
letter, but dey kept me under dey foot so close till I never didn' slip
de hay. I remember, I was stayin dere wid Mary Jane Rowell en she kept
me cowed down so worser, I never couldn' do nothin."
"I tell you, I been a grown girl dere when I leave Mary Jane Rowell's
house en go to cookin en a washin for Miss (Mrs.) Louise Brown. Yes,
child, I love Miss Louise Brown to dis very day cause she been just like
a mother to me. Yes, mam, Miss Brown was just as good to me as she could
be. Mr. Jim Brown, he give me a house dere on his plantation to live in
just to do de house work to de big house, but seems like de other
colored people on de plantation would be tryin to down me most all de
time cause I was workin ahead of dem. I know I would go dere to work
many a mornin cryin, from what dem niggers been mouthin bout me, en Miss
Brown would cry right along wid me. I tell you, Miss Brown was a tender
hearted woman, so to speak bout. I tell Miss Brown, 'Carolina say I
stole a towel off de line.' En Miss Brown say, 'Julia, if dere a towel
gone off dat line, I know whe' it gone.' No, child, I ain' never think
bout to lay no shame on dese hands. White folks been used to leave money
all bout whe' I bresh (brush) en dust en I ain' never had no mind to
touch it no time. Yes, mam, I been through a day since I come here.
Erelong I move out Mary Jane Rowell's house, I been in white people
house. If it ain' one class, it another. De very day dat Dr. Dibble been
pronounce me to de hospital, dey come after me to wait on a woman. Yes,
mam, Julia Woodberry ain' beat de state no time. Oh, I tell you, it de
God truth, I has done every kind of work in my life. Me en my three
chillun dere run a farm just like a man. Why, honey, you ain' know I had
three girls? Yes, mam, dem chillun been born en bred right dere in de
country to Centenary."
"I hear people talkin bout dat thing call conjurin, but I don' know what
to say dat is. It somethin I don' believe in. Don' never take up no
time wid dat cause it de devil's work. Dat de olden talk en I don' think
nothin bout dat. Don' want nobody round me dat believes in it neither.
Don' believe in it. Don' believe in it cause dat en God spirit don' go
together. I hear talk dat been belong to de devil, but I was so small, I
couldn' realize much what to think cause dat what you hear in dem days,
you better been hear passin. No, mam, dey knock chillun down in dat day
en time dat dey see standin up lookin in dey eyes to hear. I has heard
people say dat dey could see spirits, but I don' put no mind to dat no
time. I believe dat just a imagination cause when God get ready to take
you out dis world, you is gone en you gone forever, I say. Don' believe
in no hereafter neither cause dey say I been born wid veil over my face
en if anybody could see spirits, I ought to could. I know I has stayed
in houses dat people say was hanted plenty times en I got to see my
first hant yet. Yes, mam, I do believe in de Bible. If I hadn' believed
in de Bible, I wouldn' been saved. Dere obliged to be a hereafter
accordin to de Bible. Dere obliged to be a hereafter, I say. I can'
read, but I talkin what I hear de people say. Dat a infidel what don'
believe dere a hereafter."
"How-come I know all dat, I was raise up wid de old people. Come along
right behind de old race en I would be dere listenin widout no ears en
seein widout no eyes. Yes, mam, I took what I hear in, lady, en I ain'
been just now come here. I been here a time. Dat de reason I done wid de
world. God knows I is done. I is done. I recollects, way back yonder, Pa
would sing:
'Dey ain' had no eyes for to see,
Dey ain' had no teeth for to eat,
En dey had to let de corncake go,
Gwine whe' all de good niggers go.'"
"Dat was my father's piece dat he used to sing in slavery time. Dat
right cause I can remember back more so den I can forward."
_Source_: Julia Woodberry, colored, age--about 70 to 75.,
Marion, S.C.
Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 1937.
=Project 1885 -1-=
=District #4=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=June 1, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=E. Fronde Kennedy=
=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=
While looking for an ex-slave in a certain part of Spartanburg this
morning, I was directed across the street to "an old man who lives
there". I knocked at the door but received no answer. Then I noticed an
old man walking around by the side of the house. He was tall and
straight, standing about 6 feet 2 inches. He said that his name was
George Wood and that he was 78 years of age.
He stated that he was born during slavery, and lived on Peter Sepah's
place in York County. Peter Sepah's farm, where he was born, was near
the North Carolina line; it consisted of approximately 200 acres. His
parents were named Dan and Sarah Wood. His mother was given to old man
Sepah by his father as a wedding present, and his grandfather had been
given to an older Sepah by his parent as a wedding present. He said it
was the custom in slavery times that a slave be given to the son or
daughter by the white people when they got married.
He was too young to work, but about the time the war was over, he was
allowed to drive the horses that pulled the thrasher of wheat. His
master used to walk around and around while the wheat was being
thrashed, and see that everybody was doing their work all right. His
father lived on another plantation. There was only one family of slaves
on the whole plantation. He, his mother, and five children lived in a
one-room log cabin about 30 or 40 feet from the "big house". Their beds
consisted of straw mattresses. They had plenty to eat, having the same
food that the white folks did. They ate ash cakes mostly for bread, but
once a week they had biscuits to eat. When the wheat was thrashed, they
had biscuits mostly for breakfast; but as the wheat got scarcer they did
not have much wheat to eat. He said that Buffalo Creek flowed pretty
close to their place and that the creek emptied into Broad River.
Shelby, N.C., their market, was about ten miles distant. He thinks that
it was easier then than now to get something to eat.
The log cabin where he and his mother lived was kept comfortably warm in
the winter time. All they had to do, was to go to the wood-pile and get
all the wood they needed for the fire. His mother worked on the farm,
washed clothes and helped with the cooking at his master's house. The
slaves stopped work every Saturday afternoon about three o'clock; then
his mistress would have his mother to patch their clothes, as she did
not like to see their clothes needing patching. "We used to have lots of
fun," he said, "more than the children do now. As children, we used to
play marbles around the house; but no other special game."
Uncle George said that the patrollers saw that the colored people were
in their houses at 8 o'clock every night. "They would come to the house
and look in; of course, if a man had a pass to another plantation or
some place, that was all right; or if he had some business somewhere.
But everybody had to be in the house by 8 o'clock." He also stated that
if a slave strayed off the plantation and didn't have a pass, if he
could out-run the "pateroller" and get back upon his own place, then he
was all right. The only slave he ever saw get a whipping, was one who
had stayed out after hours; then a switch was used on him by a
"pateroller". He said he never saw any slaves in chains or treated
badly, for his master was a good man, and so was his "Missus". One day
his mother went to a church that was not her own church. On coming back,
she saw a "pateroller" coming behind her. She began to run, and he did
too; but as he caught up with her, she stepped over a fence on her
master's place and dared the "pateroller" to do anything to her. He
didn't do a thing and would not get over the fence where she was, as he
would have been on somebody's place besides his own.
He said that when the corn-shucking time came, both whites and blacks
would gather at a certain plantation. Everybody shucked corn, and they
all had a good time. When the last ear of corn was shucked, the owner of
the plantation would begin to run from the place and all would run after
him. When they caught him, he was placed on the shoulders of two men and
carried around and around the house, all singing and laughing and having
a good time. Then they would carry the man into his house, pull off his
hat and throw it into the fire; place him in a chair; comb his head;
cross his knees for him and leave him alone. They would not let him
raise a second crop under his old hat--he had to have a new hat for a
new crop. Then they would all, colored and white, gather to eat. The
owner of the farm would furnish plenty to eat; sometimes he would have
some whiskey to drink, but not often, "as that was a dangerous thing to
have".
He said that if a man who was chewing or smoking met a woman, he would
throw his tobacco away before talking with the woman.
There was plenty of fruit in those days, so brandy was made and put into
barrels in the smoke-house; and the same way they had plenty of corn,
and would put up a still and put the whiskey they made into barrels.
People in those days, he said, had "manners". The white and colored
folks would have their separate sections in the church where they sat.
"I've seen a white man make another white man get up in church and give
his place to a colored man when the church was crowded." He said his
father was baptized by Rev. Dixon, father of Tom Dixon, who was a
Baptist preacher. His mother was sprinkled by a Methodist white
preacher, but he was baptized by a colored preacher.
Asked about marriages among the slaves, he said the ceremony was
performed by some "jack-legged" colored preacher who pronounced a few
words and said they were man and wife.
He said the colored people did not know much about Jeff Davis or Abraham
Lincoln except what they heard about them. All that he remembered was a
song that his Missus used to sing:
"Jeff Davis rides a big gray horse,
Lincoln rides a mule;
Jeff Davis is a fine old man,
And Lincoln is a fool."
Another song was:
"I'll lay $10 down and number them one by one,
As sure as we do fight 'em,
The Yankees will run."
One day his "Missus" came to their house and told his mother they were
free and could go anywhere they wanted to, but she hoped they would
stay on that year and help them make a crop. He said his mother just
folded her hands and put her head down and "studied". She decided to
stay on that year. The next year, they moved to another plantation,
where they stayed for twenty years.
"Before they were free, every colored man took the name of his master,
but afterwards, I took my father's name."
He said that the Yankee soldiers did not come to their place, but they
were ready for them if they had come. The silver was buried out in the
lot, and stable manure was piled and thrown all about the spot. The two
good horses were taken off and hidden, but the old horse his master
owned was left. He said that sometimes a Confederate soldier would come
by riding an old horse, and would want to trade horses with his master.
Sometimes his master would trade, for he thought his horse would be
taken anyway. His master would never get anything "to boot", as the
soldier didn't have the "to boot" when the trade was made. So the
soldier would ride off the horse, leaving the poor, broken-down one
behind. Sometimes after the war, the Confederate soldiers would come by
the house, sick, wounded and almost starved; but his mistress would fix
something to eat for them; then they would go on.
"'Possum and 'taters were plentiful then. When a slave wanted to go
hunting, he could go; but we had to work then--nobody works now." He
said that on rainy days, his mother did not have to go to the field, but
stayed at home and sewed or carded. He said that after freedom came to
the slaves, he worked on a farm for $5.00 a month. After he had been on
the farm for many years, he heard that Spartanburg was on a boom, so he
came here and worked at railroading for many more years. He has quit
work now; but still does a little gardening for some white folks. He
said that the white people in the South understand the colored people.
When asked if he had ever seen a ghost, he replied that he had never
seen one and had never seen a person who had. "I don't believe in those
things anyhow," he said. He also stated he had never heard of anybody
being "conjured" either. He said that all the niggers in his section
were scared of the niggers from way down in South Carolina, for their
reputation as conjurers was against them, so they always fought shy of
them and didn't have anything to do with the "niggers from way down in
South Carolina".
SOURCE: George Woods, 337 N. View St., Spartanburg, S.C.
Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=ALECK WOODWARD,=
=_EX-SLAVE--83 YEARS._=
"You knows de Simonton place, Mr. Wood? Well, dats just where I was born
back yonder befo' de war, a slave of old Marster Johnnie Simonton. Five
miles sorter south sunset side of Woodward Station where you was born,
ain't it so? My pappy was Ike Woodward, but him just call 'Ike' time of
slavery, and my mammy was name Dinah. My brother Charlie up north, if he
ain't dead, Ike lives in Asheville, North Carolina. Two sisters: Ollie,
her marry an Aiken, last counts, and she and her family in Charlotte,
North Carolina; sister Mattie marry a Wilson nigger, but I don't know
where they is.
"Us lived in a four-room log house, 'bout sixteen all told. Dere was
pappy and mammy (now you count them) gran'pappy, Henry Davis, Gran'mammy
Kisana, Aunt Anna, and her seven chillun, and me, and my two brothers
and two sisters. How many make dat? Seventeen? Well, dat's de number
piled in dere at night in de beds and on de floors. They was scandlous
beds; my God, just think of my grands, old as I is now, tryin' to sleep
on them hard beds and other folks piled 'scriminately all over de log
floors! My Gran'pappy Henry was de carpenter, and old marster tell him
'if you make your beds hard, Henry, 'member you folks got to sleep on
them.'
"I was just a little black feller, running 'round most of de time in my
shirt tail, but I recollect pickin' cotton, and piddling 'round de
woodpile, fetchin' in wood for white house and chips and kindling to
fresh up de fires. Us had plenty to eat, 'cause us killed thirty-five
hogs at a time, and de sausages and lights us did was a sight. Then de
lard us made, and de cracklin' bread, why, I hungers for de sight of
them things right now. Us niggers didn't get white flour bread, but de
cracklin' bread was called on our place, 'de sweet savor of life.'
"Money? Us had eyes to see and ears to hear, but us just hear 'bout it,
never even seen money.
"My marster had a fish pond, signs of it dere yet.
"My white folks attended church at Concord Presbyterian Church. Us went
dere too, and us set up in de gallery. Yes, they asked us. De preacher
asked us to jine in some of de hymns, especially 'De Dyin' Thief' and
'De Fountain Filled Wid Blood,' and dat one 'bout 'Mazing Grace How
Sweet de Sound Dat Save a Wretch Like us.'
"Our young Marster Charlie went off to de war, got killed at Second Bull
Run. Marster Watt went and got a leg shot off somewheres. Marster Jim
went and got killed, Johnnie too, Marster Robert was not old enough to
carry a gun.
"De young mistresses was Mary and Martha. Marster John, old mistress and
all of them mighty good to us, especially when Christmas come and then
at times of sickness. They send for de doctor and set up wid you, such
tendin' to make you love them. When de Yanks come us all plead for
Marster John and family, and de house not to be burnt. De house big, had
ten rooms, big plantation, run fifteen plows.
"You ask 'bout was dere any poor white folks 'round? Not many, but I
'members old Miss Sallie Carlisle weaved and teached de slaves how it
was done. Marster give her a house to live in, and a garden spot on de
place, good woman. She show me how to spin and make ball thread, little
as I was. Marster John had over fifty slaves, and they worked hard, sun
up to sun down. It's a wonder but I never got a whippin'.
"Did I ever see a ghost? Mr. Wood, I seen sumpin' once mighty strange, I
was gwine to see a gal Nannie, on de widow Mobley place, and had to pass
'tween two graveyards, de white and de colored. She was de daughter of
Rev. Richard Cook. When I was just 'bout de end of de white graveyard, I
saw two spirits dressed in white. I run all de way to de gal's house and
sob when I got dere. I laid my head in her lap and told her 'bout de
spirits and how they scared me. I still weepin' wid fear, and she
console me, rub my forehead and soothed me. When I got quiet, I asked
her some day to be my wife, and dat's de gal dat come to be years after,
my wife. Us walk to church hand and hand ever afterwards, and one day
Preacher Morris, white man, made us husband and wife. I 'members de song
de white folks sung dat day. 'Hark from de tomb a doleful sound'. Don't
you think dat a wrong song to sing on a weddin' day? 'Joy to de World,'
was in our heart and dat tune would have been more 'propriate, seems to
me.
"Marster John give de slaves every other Saturday after dinner in busy
seasons, and every Saturday evening all other weeks. Us had two doctors,
Doctor Brice at first, and when he git old, us had Doctor Lurkin.
"Was glad when marster called us up and told us we was free. De Yankees
made a camp on de Doctor Brice place, and foraged de country all 'round.
They made me run after chickens and I had to give up my onliest blue hen
dat I had. My pappy was took off by them to Raleigh, wid dat I 'member,
was de saddest day of slavery time.
"Nannie and me, under de providence of de Lord Jehovah, has had three
chillun to live, and they have chillun too. I owns my own home and land
enough to live on, though it is hard to make both ends meet some years.
"How I got my name, you ask dat? Well, after freedom us niggers had to
come to Winnsboro and register. Us talk 'bout it by de fireside what us
would lak. When us come, Marster Henry Gaillard had a big crowd of
Gaillard niggers 'bout him beggin' for names. One of them say, 'Marster
Henry, I don't want no little name, I wants big soundin' name.' Marster
Henry write on de paper, then he read: 'Your name is Mendozah J.
Fernandez, hope dats big enough for you.' De little nigger dwarf seem
powerful pleased and stepped to de register. De rest of us spoke to
Captain Gaillard and he said no better name than Woodward, so us took
dat name. Its been a kind of a 'tection to us at times, and none of our
immediate family has ever dragged it in a jail or chaingang, Bless God!
and I hope us never will."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=MARY WOODWARD=
=_EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD._=
"I knows you since you 'bout dis high (indicating). When was it? Where I
see you? I see you at your auntie's house. Dat was your auntie, Miss
Roxie Mobley, other side of Blackstock. You was in a little dress dat
day, look lak a gal. Oh! Lordy, dat been a long time! What us has come
thru since dat day and de days befo' dat, beyond freedom.
"I was born a slave of old Marster Adam Berber, near de Catawba River
side de county, in 1854. I's a mighty small gal but I 'members when
pappy got his leg broke at de gin-house dat day, in de Christmas week.
Seem lak dat was de best Christmas I ever had. White folks comin' and a
gwine, loadin' de bed down wid presents for pappy and mammy and me.
"What my pappy name? He was name Joe and mammy go by Millie. Both b'long
to Marster Adam and Miss Nellie. Dat was her name and a lovely mistress
she be in dat part of de country. Her was sure pretty, walk pretty, and
act pretty. 'Bout all I had to do in slavery time was to comb her hair,
lace her corset, pull de hem over her hoop and say, 'You is served,
mistress!' Her lak them little words at de last.
"They have no chillun and dat was a grief to her more than to Marster
Adam. Him comfort her many times 'bout it and 'low it was his fault.
Then they 'spute 'bout it. Dats all de rumpus ever was 'twixt them. I
'spects if they had had chillun they wouldn't have been so good to me.
What you reckon? They give me dolls and laugh at de way I name them,
talk to them and dress them up.
"When de Yankees come, I was a settin' in de swing in de front yard.
They ride right up and say: 'Where your mistress?' I say: 'I don't
know.' They say: 'You is lyin'. Give her a few lashes and us'll find
out.' Another say: 'No, us come to free niggers, not to whip them.' Then
they ask me for to tell them where de best things was hid. I say: 'I
don't know sir.' Then they ransack de house, bust open de smoke house,
take de meat, hams, shoulders, 'lasses barrel, sugar, and meal, put them
in a four-horse wagon, set de house, gin-house and barn afire and go on
toward Rocky Mount. Our neighbors then, was Marster Aaron Powell and
Sikes Gladden, on Dutchman Creek.
"After freedom I marry Alf Woodward. Us had chillun. How many? Let me
see; Eli still alive, don't know where he is though. Rosa dead; Susannah
live now on Miss Sara Lord's place, up dere near Metford. De rest of de
chillun went off to Arkansas 'bout 1885, and us never heard from them.
"I forgot to tell you dat when de Yankees come and find me a settin' in
dat swing, I had on a string of beads dat Miss Nellie give to me. Them
rascals took my beads off my neck, and what you reckon they did wid
them? Well, if you doesn't know, I does. De scamps, dat is one of them
did, took my lovely beads and put them 'round his horse's neck and ride
off wid them, leavin' me sobbin' my life out in dat swing. They say you
must love your enemies and pray for them dat spitefully use you but I
never have pray for dat Yankee scamp to dis day. Although I's Scotch
Irish African 'Sociate Reform Presbyterian, de spirit have never moved
me to pray for de horse and rider dat went off wid my beads dat my
mistress give me. When I tell Marster William Woodward, my husband's old
marster, 'bout it, him say: 'De low dirty skunk, de Lord'll take
vengeance on him.' Marster William give Alf a half a dollar and tell him
to git me another string of beads, though Alf never done so.
"Alf was Marster William's coachman and him and Wade Pichett, dat was a
slave of Marster William, took fifteen mules, when de Yankees come, and
carried them in de Wateree swamps and stayed dere and saved them. Every
time Alf or Wade see Marster William, as de years comed and goed, they
fetched up de subject of them mules and git sumpin' from him. One day he
laugh and say: 'Look here Alf, I done 'bout pay for sixteen mules and
dere was but fifteen in de drove.' Alf laugh but he always got way wid
it when he see any of de Woodward white folks. Well I's glad to go now,
though I has 'joyed bein' wid you. De Lord bless you and keep you."
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, September 15, 1937=
=PAULINE WORTH=
=Ex-Slave, 79 Years=
"Yes'um, I know I been here in slavery time, but wasn' large enough to
do nothin in dat day en time. I reach 79 de first day of November. To be
certain dat how old I is, Miss Betty Evans give me my direct age here de
other day. She know who I am cause I was raise near bout in de same yard
dat she was raise in. Mr. Telathy Henry family was my white folks.
Yes'um, I was raise right here in dis town. Ain' never been nowhere else
but Marion."
"I was small den, but I remembers my old Missus. I sho remembers her all
right. My old boss, he died. I can' remember nothin much bout dem times
only I recollects when my old Missus used to get after me en whip me, I
would run under de house. Didn' want to sweep de yard en dat how-come
she get after me wid a switch. I was small den en she was tryin to learn
me."
"No, child, I didn' live on no plantation. Didn' have no quarter for de
slaves dere. My white folks live in town en dey just have my mother en
her chillun en another old man. He stayed in de kitchen en would work de
garden en go off on errands for de Missus. My mother en we chillun
stayed in a little small one room house in de yard en he stayed in de
kitchen. I wasn' large enough to do nothin much den only as like I tell
you, my old Missus tried to learn me to sweep de yard."
"I was small den, child, but I got along all right cause we ate in de
white folks kitchen. Oh, no'um, dey cook in de chimney long bout de time
I come up. No'um, didn' see no stoves nowhe' when I come up. I remembers
we had greens like collards en bread en potatoes to eat sometimes, but
say remember all what we had to eat, I couldn' never think bout to do
dat. I just knows dat I remembers old Missus provide good livin for us
all de time. Wouldn' let nobody suffer for nothin be dat she know bout
it. Old Missus used to give us every speck de clothes we had to wear too
dat was made out dis here homemade homespun cloth. You see my mother was
de cook dere. Old Massa used to keep dry goods store en de first I know
bout it, she get de cloth out de store to make us clothes. Den after de
old head died, old Missus commence to buy cloth from somebody in de
country cause people weave dey cloth right dere on dey own plantation in
dat day en time. Had dese here loom en spinning wheel. I remembers old
Missus would take out big bolt of cloth en cut out us garments wid her
own hands. Den she would call us dere en make us try dem on en mine
wouldn' never be nothin troublesome nowhe' bout it. I remembers I used
to hear my Missus, when she be readin de paper speak bout Abraham
Lincoln en Jefferson Davis, but I was small den en never paid no much
attention to it. Only cared bout my new homespun dress wid de pockets
shinin right in de front part. My Lord, child, I been de proudest like
of dem pockets."
"I hear de older people say de Yankees come en say de Yankees was here,
but I was small den. Dey didn' do nothin bout dere dat I know of. I was
small en I didn' know. Didn' hear de older peoples say nothin bout it
neither."
"Oh, we went to de white peoples service to dat big Methodist church
right up dere in dis town what was tore down long time ago. Walked dere
to dat church every Sunday en set up in de gallery. Dat whe' all de
slaves had place to sit. De only thing I could remember bout gwine to
church dere was what I hear dem say. Dey say, 'I believe in God the
Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, etc.' Dat all I remembers
bout gwine to church dere. Everything I remembers. Don' know as I could
tell you dat, but I hear my mother repeat it so much when she come home
en be teachin us our prayer. Den Missus teach us de same thing till we
get large enough to learn de Lord's Prayer. No'mam, white folks didn'
teach us no learnin in dat day en time. Didn' hear bout no books only
dese almanacs. When de white folks throw dem out, dey allow us to pick
dem up to play wid. Dat all de books we know bout."
"Lord, child, dat was somethin. Dat was sho a time when dat shake come
here. I remembers de ground be shakin en all de people was hollerin.
Yes'um, I was scared. Scared of dat noise it was makin cause I didn'
know but dat it might been gwine destroy me. I was hollerin en
everybody round in de neighborhood was hollerin. Didn' nobody know what
to think it was. Well, I tell you I thought it must a been de Jedgment
comin. Thought it must a been somethin like dat."
"I don' know nothin bout dat. It just like dis, I heard people speak
bout conjurin, but nobody never has talked to me nothin concernin no
conjurin. My mother wouldn' allow nobody to talk dat kind of speech to
us. No, I ain' never seen none of dem things people say is ghost. No,
ain' seen none dat I remembers. My husband died en I was right in de
room wid him en I ain' see a thing. Never thought bout nothin like dat.
Thought when dey gone, dey was gone. When I was able to work, I didn'
have no time to bother wid dem things. Didn' have no time to take up wid
nothin like dat. I de one dat used to cook dere to Miss Eloise Bethea's
mamma. Dis here de one dey call Pauline."
"I tell you my old Missus was good to us, child, good to us all de time.
Come bout en doctor us herself when we get sick. Wouldn' trust nobody
else to give us no medicine. I remember she give us castor oil en little
salts for some ailments. Didn' give us nothin more den dat only a little
sage or catnip sometimes. Dat what was good for colds."
"I don' know, child. I can' tell which de worser days den or dese times.
I know one thing, dey dances now more den dey used to. I don' go bout
much, but I can tell you what I hear talk bout. I don' know as de people
any worser dese days, but I hear talk bout more dances. Dat bout all.
Coase de peoples used to dance bout, but dey didn' have dese dance halls
like dey have now. Didn' have none of dem kind of rousin places den. De
peoples didn' have chance to dance in dat day en time only as dey have a
quiltin en cornshuckin on a night. Den dey just dance bout in old Massa
yard en bout de kitchen. Oh, dey have dem quiltin at night en would play
en go on in de kitchen. Turn plate en different little things like dat.
I don' know how dey do it, but I remembers I hear dem talkin somethin
bout turnin plate. Wasn' big enough to explain nothin bout what dey
meant. I just knows dey would do dat en try to make some kind of motion
like."
"Honey, didn' never hear my parents tell bout no stories. My mother
wasn' de kind to bother wid no stories like dat. She tried to always be
a Christian en she never would allow us to tarnish us souls wid nothin
like dat. She raise us in de way she want us to turn out to be. All dese
people bout here livin too fast to pay attention to raisin dey chillun
dese days. Just livin too fast to do anything dat be lastin like. Dat
how-come dere be so much destructiveness bout dese days."
_Source_: Pauline Worth, age 79, ex-slave, Manning St., Marion, S.C.
Personal interview, Sept., 1937 by Annie Ruth Davis.
=Project #-1655=
=Phoebe Faucette=
=Hampton County=
=Folklore=
=DAPHNEY WRIGHT=
=106 Year Old Ex-Slave=
Just around the bend from the old mill pond on the way to Davis Swimming
Pool lives a very old negro woman. Her name is Daphney Wright, though
that name has never been heard by those who affectionately know her as
"Aunt Affie". She says she is 106 years old. She comes to the door
without a cane and greets her guests with accustomed curtsey. She is
neatly dressed and still wears a fresh white cap as she did when she
worked for the white folks. Save for her wearing glasses and walking
slowly, there are no evidences of illness or infirmities. She has a
sturdy frame, and a kindly face shows through the wrinkles.
"I been livin' in Beaufort when de war fust (first) break out", she
begins. "Mr. Robert Cally was my marsa. Dat wuz in October. De Southern
soldiers come through Bluffton on a Wednesday and tell de white folks
must get out de way, de Yankees right behind 'em! De summer place been
at Bluffton. De plantation wuz ten miles away. After we refugee from
Bluffton, we spent de fust night at Jonesville. From dere we went to
Hardeeville. We got here on Saturday evening. You know we had to ride by
horses--in wagons an' buggies. Dere weren't no railroads or cars den.
Dat why it take so long.
"Mr. Lawrence McKenzie wuz my Missus' child. We stayed wid him awhile,
'til he find us a place. Got us a little house. We stayed four years
dere, 'til de war wuz over. Dey sent de young ladies on--on farther up
de country, to a safer place. Dey went to Society Hill. My old Missus
stay. Sae wuz a old lady. When de Yankees come she died. I wuz right
dere wid her when she died. She had been sickly. After de war dey all
went back to de old place. I had married up here, so when dey went back
I stay on here.
"I been right here when de Yankees come through. I been in my house
asittin' before de fire, jes' like I is now.
"One of 'em come up an' say, 'You know who I is?'
"I say, 'No.'
"He say, 'Well, I is come to set you free. You kin stay wid your old
owners if you wants to, but dey'll pay you wages.'
"But dey sure did plenty of mischief while dey wuz here. Didn't burn all
de houses. Pick out de big handsome house to burn. Burn down Mr. Bill
Lawton' house. Mr. Asbury Lawton had a fine house. Dey burn dat. (He
Marse Tom Lawton' brother.) Burn Mr. Maner' house. Some had put a poor
white woman in de house to keep de place; but it didn't make no
difference.
"De soldiers say, 'Dis rich house don't belong to you. We goin' to burn
dis house!'
"Dey'd go through de house an' take everything'. Take anythin' they
could find. Take from de white, an' take from de colored, too. Take
everything out de house! Dey take from my house. Take somethin' to eat.
But I didn't have anythin' much in my house. Had a little pork an' a
week's supply of rations.
"De white folks would bury de silver. But dey couldn't always find it
again. One give her silver to de colored butler to bury but he wuz kill,
an' nobody else know where he bury it. It wuz after de war, an' he wuz
walkin' down de road, an' Wheeler's Brigade kill him.
"Been years an' years 'fore everythin' could come together again. You
know after de war de Confederate money been confiscate. You could be
walkin' 'long de road anytime an' pick up a ten dollar bill or a five
dollar bill, but it wuzn't no good to you. After de greenback come money
flourish again.
"De plantation wuz down on de river. I live dere 'cept for de four years
we refugee. Dat been a beautiful place--dere on de water! When de stars
would come out dere over de water it wuz a beautiful sight! Sometimes
some of us girls would get in a little 'paddle' an' paddle out into de
river. We'd be scared to go too far out, but we'd paddle around.
Sometimes my father would go out in de night an' catch de fish with a
seine. He'd come back with a bushel of fish 'most anytime. Dey were nice
big mullets! He'd divide 'em 'round 'mongst de colored folks. An' he'd
take some up to de white folks for dere breakfast. My white folks been
good white people. I never know no cruel. Dey treat me jes like one of
dem. Dey say dey took me when I wuz five years old. An' I stay wid dem
'til freedom. I am 106 years old now.
"Dem people on de water don't eat much meat. Twenty-five cent of bacon
will last dem a week. Dey cut de meat into little pieces, an' fry dem
into cracklings, den put dat into de fish stew. It surely makes de stew
good. When dey kill a hog dey take it to town an' sell it, den use de
money for whatever dey want. Dey don't have to cure de pork an' keep it
to eat. Dey jes' eat fish. Dey have de mullets, an' de oysters, an' de
crabs, an' dese little clams. Dey have oyster-stew. Dey have roast
oysters, den de raw oysters. An' dey have dey fried oysters! Dat sure is
good. Dey fish from de boat, dey fish from de log, an' dey fish 'long de
edge of de water wid a net. When de tide go down you kin walk along an'
jes pick up de crab. You could get a bucket full in no time. We'd like
to go up an' down an' pick up de pretty shells. I got one here on de
mantel now. It ain't sech a big one, but it's a pretty little shell.
"I is always glad to talk 'bout de old times an' de old people. We is
livin' in peace now, but still it's hard times. We ought to be thankful
though our country ain't in war."
Source: Daphney Wright, Scotia, S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=Folk Lore=
=District No. 4.=
=May 28, 1937.=
=Edited by:=
=J.J. Murray.=
=STORIES OF EX-SLAVES=
Seated on the front steps of his house, holding a walking cane and
talking to another old colored man from Georgia, who was visiting his
children living there, the writer found "Uncle" Bill Young. He readily
replied that he had lived in slavery days, that he was 83 years old, and
he said that he and Sam were talking about old times.
He was owned by Dave Jeter at Santuc, S.C.; though he was just a boy at
the time his mother was a slave. He used to mind his "Missus" more than
anybody else, as he stayed around the house more than anywhere else. His
job, with the other boys, both white and black, was to round up the milk
cows late every afternoon. The milk cows had to be brought up, milked
and put up for the night; but the other cows and calves used to stay in
the woods all night long. Some times they would be a mile away from the
house, but the boys would not mind getting them home, for they played so
much together as they slowly drove the cows in.
When asked if he got plenty to eat in slavery days, he replied that he
had plenty, "a heap more than I get today to eat". As a slave, he said
he ate every day that the white folks ate, that he was always treated
kindly, and his missus would not let anybody whip him; though he had
seen other slaves tied and whipped with a bull-whip. He said he had
seen the blood come from some of the slaves as they were whipped across
the bare back. He said he had seen the men slaves stand perfectly naked
and take a beating. He also said that he never had a whipping and that
his "Missus" wouldn't let his own mother whip him. She would say, "Don't
tech that boy, as he is my Nigger." She told him one day that he was
free, but he stayed right on there with her and worked for wages. He got
$6.00 a month, all his rations, and a place to stay.
"Uncle" Bill said there was some humor at times when a slave was to be
whipped. His hands and feet tied together, the slave would be laid
across a rail fence, feet dangling on one side and head on the other
side; then the master would give the slave a push or shove and he would
fall heavily on the ground on his head. Not being able to use his feet
or his hands, the slave's efforts to catch himself before he hit the
ground was something funny. "That was funny to us Niggers looking at it,
but not funny to the Nigger tied up so."
He said some Yankee soldiers came by the house at times, but they never
bothered anybody on the place. "Of-course they would take something to
eat, but they never bothered anybody."
After working for Dave Jeter for many years, he moved up to Jonesville,
where he married. He lived in or near Jonesville for about thirty years,
then he moved with his son, who was a barber, to Spartanburg, and has
been here thirteen years.
"I never knew anything about rent 'til I got here. I always had a house
to live in, raised my own feed and got my wood off the place. So when I
got to Spartanburg I learned what rent was. I just quit work two years
ago when I had high blood pressure; and now I ain't able to work. Do you
see that Nigger across the street, going to work somebody's garden?
Well, if I didn't have high blood pressure, I'd be just as good to work
as him."
"Yes sir, with my peck of meal, my three pounds of meat each week and my
$6.00 a month wages, I had more to eat than I gets now."
SOURCE: "Uncle" Bill Young. 202 Young Street, Spartanburg, S.C.
Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg Office, Dist. 4.
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Feb. 4, 1938=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"March 15, 1862 is de date I allus takes when folks axes how old is you.
Dat's de best, to follow one date, den no argument don't follow.
"Some see'd it powerful hard in slavery, others never see'd it so bad.
Dat 'pends on you a lot, den it 'pends on dem dat you stays wid. It
still like dat everywhar dat I is been, but I ain't been no further dan
Spartanburg gwine north, and to Lyles's Ford gwine south.
"From a wee bitty baby dey teach me to serve. Befo' you serves God you
is got to know how to serve man. De Bible speaks of us as servants of de
Lawd. Niggers can serve him better dan white folks, kaise dat is all dey
does if dey stays whar dey belongs. Young folks and chillun being raised
up real biggity like dey is now, dey can't serve nothing, kaise if you
can't serve your earthly father, how is you gwine to serve your Heavenly
Father?
"De big plantation and house whar Mr. Jimmie Jeter's sons stay is whar I
first see'd earthly light. Dat place still look fine, and it look fine
den, too. When I was 8 years old I started out in de field, afo' dat I
did jes' what all little nigger boys did, nothing but eat and sleep and
play and have a big time wid de little white boys. Lots of my playmates,
both white and black, done gone on now. Some done gone to de bad place
and some done gone to Heaven, jes' ain't no use talking, dat's sho nuff
de truth.
"War was raging all 'round Charleston and Columbia when I come in dis
world so dey says, Yankees camped in half mile of Santuc. I is heard
dat everybody was scared. Has even heard dat I cried when dem Yankees
come, but all I knows is jes' what I heard. Folks hears lots and dey
tells it, and dat's jes' what I is doing now--jes' telling what dey told
me when I got big. If folks didn't never tell nothing no worse, it
wouldn't make no difference, but often dey takes devilish notions and
tells dat what injures, if anybody believes dem.
"Aunt Phyllis Jeter 'low when dem Yankees got to Santuc, she was a
weaving jes' as hard as she could for her white folks. She say dat she
started to run, but dem Yankees come in de house and throw'd away her
yarn and took her and tied her to a tree. When she hollered, dey whipped
her. She say dat dey was drunk, but dey never burn't up nothing in de
house. Dey went on singing, and she got me to playing and got up de yarn
from de dirt in de yard and cleaned it. De Yankees never bothered us no
mo', and dey never stayed in Santuc long.
"Once when I was a big boy I got drunk and pa whipped me so hard I never
got drunk no mo' till I was married, and den I jumped on my old lady for
fun and she hit me wid a bed slat. Dat knocked me sober and I 'cided de
best thing for me to do was let liquor go to de devil. When I was young
I allus walked to Union. Dat ain't but ten miles down de railroad. Den I
used to walk all over Santuc and down to Herbert in Fish Dam. Now I is
drapped most all my walking. De chilluns travels fast in automobiles,
but I jes' as lieve walk to Union as to ride in dem things. Wrecks kills
you off so quick dat you does not have time to repent.
"Walking never has hurt nobody, and I buys leather and tacks it on my
own shoes, and in dat way it don't cost me nothing much. Folks goes so
fast in dem automobiles, and half de time dey ain't in no hurry kaise
dey ain't gwine to nothing no way. I gits on my shoe in de winter and I
walks. When I wants to drap in for a chaw at some friend's house, I
does. I sets dar till I gits rested and warm and I goes on. If dey eats,
I does too, and when I gits to Union my chillun is done out and gone.
Jes' de same, I reaches home at night befo' dem.
"Dey has tales to tell about gitting out of gas, and when I axes whar
dey been, dey jes' as apt to say Spartanburg as any whars. As long as
dey has a quarter dey is allus gwine to ride and come home broke. If you
fools wid automobiles, you is gwine to spend lots of time in jail. I
ain't never been in jail and I thinks it is a disgrace. My chillun says
dat I is 'old timey' and don't know nothing 'bout living. Jes' de same,
I likes slow moving, and takes mine out in walking and gits home at dark
or soon atter.
"Dese fast ways don't bother me. Dey makes sassy chilluns. Sassy
chilluns dat can't serve deir pa need not think dat dey can ride to de
Promise Land in narry automobile dat dey is ever seed. Gwine round in
fast circles and never gitting nowhars seems to satisfy dem, so I don't
know what is gwine to become of dem."
Source: Bob Young (75) Jonesville, S.C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 11/10/37
[Transcriber's Note:
A number of punctuation errors have been corrected. Other typographical
errors are as follows:
Page 1: "Hariett" changed to "Harriett" (young mistress, Miss Harriett.)
Page 3: "Cival" changed to "Civil" (pre-Civil and Civil War days,)
Page 38: "nonegenarian" changed to "nonagenarian" (what a nonagenarian
is?)
Page 43: "carpetbagbers" changed to "carpetbaggers" (scalawags and
carpetbaggers,)
Page 45: "SC" changed to "S.C." (RIDGEWAY, S.C.,)
Page 49: "On e" changed to "One" (One pick a banjo,)
Page 53: "Dancers" changed to "Dances" (Dances? There was); "william"
changed to "William" (young master, William)
Page 56: "we" added between "us" and "we" (told us we was free);
"cornshuckings" changed to "corn-shuckings" (old time corn-shuckings)
Page 59: "gie" changed to "gi'e" ("He gi'e me sugar.); "pantomime" changed
to "pantomime," "the" added before "way" (with pantomine, of the way
pidgin)
Page 62: "to-day" changed to "today" (in Russia today.)
Page 66: "piscopal" changed to "'Piscopal" (he was 'Piscopal)
Page 67: "thrity-two" changed to "thirty-two" (thirty or thrity-two)
Page 76: "OF-EX" changed to "OF EX-SLAVES"
Page 84: "quite" changed to "quiet"
Page 86: "Come" changed to "Some" (Some white people); "one" changed to
"One" ("One gone in)
Page 89: "or" changed to "of" (the back of gallery.)
Page 120: "remembers" changed to "disremembers" (I jes' disremembers,)
Page 143: "be be" changed to "be" (be so many school)
Page 149: "folks" changed to "forks" (Ninety-eight silver forks)
Page 159: "Reovah" changed to (Rehovah Baptist Church.)
Page 165: "carpet bag" changed to "carpetbag" (de carpetbag,)
Page 183: "do" added after "only" (only do de)
Page 187: "cornshucking" changed to "corn-shucking" (corn-shucking 'bout)
Page 194: "cordality" changed to "cordiality" (with a cordiality);
"dilapedated" changed to "dilapidated" (somewhat dilapidated shanty.)
Page 195: "revently" changed to "reverently"; "out side" changed to
"outside" (outside the same church); "necesities" changed to "necessities"
(such household necessities)
Page 196: "asleep" changed to "slept"
Page 217: "but" changed to "buy" (wanted to buy something)
Page 231: "no" added after "or" (true or no,)
Page 255: "i" changed to "I" (as I was.)
Page 269: "Twentyfive" changed to "Twenty-five" (Twenty-five cent of
bacon)
Page 270: "the the" changed to "the" (at the time his)]