As viewed by
ED McCREE, Age 76
543 Reese Street
Athens, Georgia
Written by:
Sadie B. Hornsby [HW: (White)]
Athens
Edited by:
Sarah H. Hall
Athens
Leila Harris
Augusta
and
John N. Booth
District Supervisor
Federal Writers' Project
Residencies 6 & 7
Ed McCree's home was pointed out by a little albino Negro girl about 10
years old. The small front yard was gay with snapdragons, tiger lilies,
dahlias, and other colorful flowers, and the two-story frame house,
painted gray with white trimmings seemed to be in far better repair than
the average Negro residence.
Chewing on a cud of tobacco, Ed answered the knock on his front door.
"Good evenin' Lady," he said. "Have a cheer on de porch whar it's cool."
Ed is about five feet, six inches in height, and on this afternoon he
was wearing a blue striped shirt, black vest, gray pants and black
shoes. His gray hair was topped by a soiled gray hat.
Nett, his wife, came hobbling out on the porch and sat down to listen to
the conversation. At first the old man was reluctant to talk of his
childhood experiences, but his interest was aroused by questioning and
soon he began to eagerly volunteer his memories. He had just had his
noon meal and now and then would doze a little, but was easily aroused
when questions called him back to the subject.
"I was borned in Oconee County," he said, "jus' below Watkinsville. My
Ma and Pa was Louisa and Henry McCree, but Old Marster called Pa 'Sherm'
for short. Far as I ever heared, my Ma and Pa was borned and brung up
right dar in Oconee County. Dere was six of us chillun: Silas, Lumpkin,
Bennie, Lucy, Babe, and me. Babe, she was borned a long time atter de
war.
"Little Niggers, what was too young to wuk in de fields, toted water to
de field hands and waited on de old 'omans what was too old to wuk in de
craps. Dem old 'omans looked atter de babies and piddled 'round de
yards.
"Slave quarters was lots of log cabins wid chimlies of criss-crossed
sticks and mud. Pore white folks lived in houses lak dat too. Our bed
was made wid high posties and had cords, what run evvy which a-way, for
springs. 'Course dey had to be wound tight to keep dem beds from fallin'
down when you tried to git in 'em. For mattresses, de 'omans put wheat
straw in ticks made out of coarse cloth wove right dar on de plantation,
and de pillows was made de same way. Ole Miss, she let her special
favorite Niggers, what wuked up at de big house, have feather mattresses
and pillows. Dem other Niggers shined dey eyes over dat, but dere warn't
nothin' dey could do 'bout it 'cept slip 'round and cut dem feather beds
and pillows open jus' to see de feathers fly. Kivver was 'lowanced out
evvy year to de ones what needed it most. In dat way dere was allus good
kivver for evvybody.
"Grandma Liza b'longed to Marse Calvin Johnson long 'fore Marse John
McCree buyed her. She was cook at de big house. Grandpa Charlie, he
b'longed to Marse Charlie Hardin, but atter him and Grandma married, she
still went by de name of McCree.
"Lawdy Miss! Who ever heared of folks payin' slaves to wuk? Leastwise, I
never knowed 'bout none of 'em on our place gittin' money for what dey
done. 'Course dey give us plenty of somepin' t'eat and clothes to wear,
and den dey made us keep a-humpin' it. I does 'member seein' dem paper
nickels, dimes, and quarters what us chillun played wid atter de war. Us
used to pretend us was rich wid all dat old money what warn't no good
den.
"'Bout dem eatments, Miss, it was lek dis, dere warn't no fancy victuals
lak us thinks us got to have now, but what dere was, dere was plenty of.
Most times dere was poke sallet, turnip greens, old blue head collards,
cabbages, peas, and 'taters by de wholesale for de slaves to eat and,
onct a week, dey rationed us out wheat bread, syrup, brown sugar, and
ginger cakes. What dey give chillun de most of was potlicker poured over
cornbread crumbs in a long trough. For fresh meat, outside of killin' a
shoat, a lamb, or a kid now and den, slaves was 'lowed to go huntin' a
right smart and dey fotch in a good many turkles (turtles), 'possums,
rabbits, and fish. Folks didn't know what iron cookstoves was dem days.
Leastwise, our white folks didn't have none of 'em. All our cookin' was
done in open fireplaces in big old pots and pans. Dey had thick iron
skillets wid heavy lids on 'em, and dey could bake and fry too in dem
skillets. De meats, cornbread, biscuits, and cakes what was cooked in
dem old skillets was sho' mighty good.
"De cotton, flax, and wool what our clothes was made out of was growed,
spun, wove, and sewed right dar on our plantation. Marse John had a
reg'lar seamster what didn't do nothin' else but sew. Summertime us
chillun wore shirts what looked lak nightgowns. You jus' pulled one of
dem slips over your haid and went on 'cause you was done dressed for de
whole week, day and night. Wintertime our clothes was a heap better. Dey
give us thick jeans pants, heavy shirts, and brogan shoes wid brass
toes. Summertime us all went bar'foots.
"Old Marster John McCree was sho' a good white man, I jus' tells you de
truf, 'cause I ain't in for tellin' nothin' else. I done jus' plum
forgot Ole Miss' fust name, and I can't git up de chilluns' names no
way. I didn't play 'round wid 'em much nohow. Dey was jus' little young
chillun den anyhow. Dey lived in a big old plank house--nothin' fine
'bout it. I 'members de heavy timbers was mortised together and de other
lumber was put on wid pegs; dere warn't no nails 'bout it. Dat's all I
ricollects 'bout dat dere house right now. It was jus' a common house,
I'd say.
"Dere was a thousand or more acres in dat old plantation. It sho' was a
big piece of land, and it was plumb full of Niggers--I couldn't say how
many, 'cause I done forgot. You could hear dat bugle de overseer blowed
to wake up de slaves for miles and miles. He got 'em up long 'fore sunup
and wuked 'em in de fields long as dey could see how to wuk. Don't talk
'bout dat overseer whuppin' Niggers. He beat on 'em for most anything.
What would dey need no jail for wid dat old overseer a-comin' down on
'em wid dat rawhide bull-whup?
"If dey got any larnin', it was at night. Dere warn't no school 'ouse or
no church on dat plantation for Niggers. Slaves had to git a pass when
dey wanted to go to church. Sometimes de white preacher preached to de
Niggers, but most of de time a Nigger wid a good wit done de preachin'.
Dat Nigger, he sho' couldn't read nary a word out of de Bible. At de
baptizin's was when de Nigger boys shined up to de gals. Dey dammed up
de crick to make de water deep enough to duck 'em under good and, durin'
de service, dey sung: _It's de Good Old Time Religion_.
"When folks died den, Niggers for miles and miles around went to de
funeral. Now days dey got to know you mighty well if dey bothers to go a
t'all. Dem days folks was buried in homemade coffins. Some of dem
coffins was painted and lined wid cloth and some warn't. De onliest song
I ricollects 'em singin' at buryin's was: _Am I Born to Lay Dis Body
Down_? Dey didn't dig graves lak dey does now. Dey jus' dug straight
down to 'bout five feet, den dey cut a vault to fit de coffin in de side
of de grave. Dey didn't put no boards or nothin' over de coffins to keep
de dirt off.
"'Bout dem patterollers! Well, you knowed if dey cotched you out widout
no pass, dey was gwine to beat your back most off and send you on home.
One night my Pa 'lowed he would go to see his gal. All right, he went.
When he got back, his cabin door was fastened hard and fast. He was
a-climbin' in de window when de patterollers got to him. Dey 'lowed:
'Nigger, is you got a pass?' Pa said: 'No Sir.' Den dey said: 'Us can't
beat you 'cause you done got home on your marster's place, but us is
sho' gwine to tell your Marster to whup your hide off. But Old Marster
never tetched him for dat.
"Atter dey come in from de fields, dem Niggers et deir supper, went to
deir cabins, sot down and rested a little while, and den dey drapped
down on de beds to sleep. Dey didn't wuk none Sadday atter dinner in de
fields. Dat was wash day for slave 'omans. De mens done fust one thing
and den another. Dey cleant up de yards, chopped wood, mended de
harness, sharpened plow points, and things lak dat. Sadday nights, Old
Marster give de young folks passes so dey could go from one place to
another a-dancin' and a-frolickin' and havin' a big time gen'ally. Dey
done most anything dey wanted to on Sundays, so long as dey behaved
deyselfs and had deir passes handy to show if de patterollers bothered
'em.
"Yessum, slaves sho' looked forward to Christmas times. Dere was such
extra good eatin's dat week and so much of 'em. Old Marster had 'em kill
a plenty of shoats, lambs, kids, cows, and turkeys for fresh meat. De
'omans up at de big house was busy for a week ahead cookin' peach puffs,
'tater custards, and plenty of cakes sweetened wid brown sugar and
syrup. Dere was plenty of home-made candy for de chilluns' Santa Claus
and late apples and peaches had done been saved and banked in wheat
straw to keep 'em good 'til Christmas. Watermelons was packed away in
cottonseed and when dey cut 'em open on Christmas Dey, dey et lak fresh
melons in July. Us had a high old time for a week, and den on New Year's
Day dey started back to wuk.
"Come winter, de mens had big cornshuckin's and dere was quiltin's for
de 'omans. Dere was a row of corn to be shucked as long as from here to
Milledge Avenue. Old Marster put a gang of Niggers at each end of de row
and it was a hot race 'tween dem gangs to see which could git to de
middle fust. Dere was allus a big feast waitin' for 'em when de last ear
of corn was shucked. 'Bout dem quiltin's!" Now Lady, what would a old
Nigger man know 'bout somepin' dat didn't nothin' but 'omans have
nothin' to do wid?
"Dem cotton pickin's was grand times. Dey picked cotton in de moonlight
and den had a big feast of barbecued beef, mutton, and pork washed down
wid plenty of good whiskey. Atter de feast was over, some of dem Niggers
played fiddles and picked banjoes for de others to dance down 'til dey
was wore out.
"When slaves got sick, our white folks was mighty good 'bout havin' 'em
keered for. Dey dosed 'em up wid oil and turpentine and give 'em teas
made out of hoarhound for some mis'ries and bone-set for other troubles.
Most all the slaves wore a sack of assfiddy (asafetida) 'round deir
necks all de time to keep 'em from gittin' sick.
"It was a happy day for us slaves when news come dat de war was over and
de white folks had to turn us 'loose. Marster called his Niggers to come
up to de big house yard, but I never stayed 'round to see what he had to
say. I runned 'round dat place a-shoutin' to de top of my voice. My
folks stayed on wid Old Marster for 'bout a year or more. If us had
left, it would have been jus' lak swappin' places from de fryin' pan to
de fire, 'cause Niggers didn't have no money to buy no land wid for a
long time atter de war. Schools was soon scattered 'bout by dem Yankees
what had done sot us free. I warn't big enough den to do nothin' much
'cept tote water to de field and chop a little cotton.
"Me and Nettie Freeman married a long time atter de war. At our weddin'
I wore a pair of brown jeans pants, white shirt, white vest, and a
cutaway coat. Nettie wore a black silk dress what she had done bought
from Miss Blanche Rutherford. Pears lak to me it had a overskirt of blue
what was scalloped 'round de bottom."
At this point, Nettie, who had been an interested listener, was
delighted. She broke into the conversation with: "Ed, you sho' did take
in dat dress and you ain't forgot it yit."
"You is right 'bout dat, Honey," he smilingly replied, "I sho' ain't and
I never will forgit how you looked dat day."
"Miss Blanche give me a pair of white silk gloves to wear wid dat
dress," mused Nettie.
"Us didn't have no sho' 'nough weddin'," continued Ed. "Us jus' went off
to de preacher man's house and got married up together. I sho' is glad
my Nett is still a-livin', even if she is down wid de rheumatiz."
"I'm glad I'm livin' too," Nettie said with a chuckle.
Ed ignored the question as to the number of their children and Nettie
made no attempt to take further part in the conversation. There is a
deep seated idea prevalent among old people of this type that if the
"giver'ment folks" learn that they have able-bodied children, their
pensions and relief allowances will be discontinued.
Soon Ed was willing to talk again. "Yessum," he said. "I sho' had ruther
be free. I don't never want to be a slave no more. Now if me and Nett
wants to, us can set around and not fix and eat but one meal all day
long. If us don't want to do dat, us can do jus' whatsomever us pleases.
Den, us had to wuk whether us laked it or not.
"Lordy Miss, I ain't never jined up wid no church. I ain't got no reason
why, only I jus' ain't never had no urge from inside of me to jine.
'Course, you know, evvybody ought to lissen to de services in de church
and live right and den dey wouldn't be so skeered to die. Miss, ain't
you through axin' me questions yit? I is so sleepy, and I don't know no
more to tell you. Goodbye."
[HW: Dist. 1
Ex Slave #68]
EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW:
LUCY McCULLOUGH, Age 79
BY: SARAH H. HALL
ATHENS, GA.
[Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]
[TR: This first half of this interview was edited by hand to change many
'er' sounds to 'uh', for example, 'der' to 'duh', 'ter' to 'tuh'; as a
single word, 'er' was also changed to 'a'.]
"Does Ah 'member 'bout war time, en dem days fo' de war? Yassum, Ah sho'
does. Ah blong ter Marse Ned Carter in Walton county."
"Whut Ah 'members mos' is duh onliest beatin' Ah ebber got fum de
overseer on Marse Ned's place. De hawgs wuz dyin' moughty bad wid
cholry, en Marse Ned hed 'is mens drag evvy dead hawg off in de woods
'en bun 'em up ter keep de cholry fum spreadin' mongst de udder hawgs.
De mens wuz keerless 'bout de fire, en fo' long de woods wuz on fire, en
de way dat fire spread in dem dry grape vines in de woods mek it 'peer
lak jedgment day tuh us chilluns. Us run 'bout de woods lookin' at de
mens fight de fire, en evvy time we see uh new place a-blaze we run dis
way en dat way, twel fus' thing us knows, we is plum off Marse Ned's
plantation, en us doan rightly know whar us is. Us play 'roun' in de
woods en arter while Marse Ned's overseer cum fine us, en he druv us
back tuh de big house yahd en give evvy one uv us uh good beaten'. Ah
sho' wuz black en blue, en Ah nebber did fuhgit en run offen Marse Ned's
lan' no mo' lessen I hed uh pass."
"Mah mammy, she wuz cook at duh big house, en Ah wuz raised dah in de
kitchen en de back yahd at de big house. Ah wuz tuh be uh maid fer de
ladies in de big house. De house servants hold that dey is uh step
better den de field niggers. House servants wuz niggah quality folks."
Ah mus' not a been mo' en thee uh fo' yeahs ole when Miss Millie cum out
in de kitchen one day, en 'gin tuh scold my mammy 'bout de sorry way
mammy done clean de chitlins. Ah ain' nebber heard nobuddy fuss et my
mammy befo'. Little ez Ah wuz, Ah swell up en rar' back, en I sez tuh
Miss Millie, "Doan you no' Mammy is boss uh dis hyar kitchen. You cyan'
cum a fussin' in hyar." "Miss Millie, she jus laff, but Mammy grab a
switch en 'gin ticklin' my laigs, but Miss Millie mek her quit it." "Who
wuz Miss Millie? Why, she wuz Marse Ned's wife."
"Whilst Marse Ned wuz 'way at de war, bad sojer mens cum thoo de
country. Miss Millie done hyar tell dey wuz on de way, an she had de
mens haul all Marse Ned's cotton off in de woods en hide it. De waggins
wuz piled up high wid cotton, en de groun' wuz soft atter de rain. De
waggins leff deep ruts in de groun', but none us folks on de plantation
pay no heed ter dem ruts. When de sojer mens cum, dey see dem ruts en
trail 'em right out dar in de woods ter de cotton. Den dey sot fire ter
de cotton en bun it all up. Dey cum back ter de big house en take all de
sweet milk in de dairy house, en help 'emselfs ter evvy thing in de
smoke houses. Den dey pick out de stronges' er Marse Ned's slave mens en
take 'em 'way wid 'em. Dey take evvy good horse Marse Ned had on de
plantation. No Ma'am, dey diden' bun nuffin ceppen' de cotton."
"Us wuz mo' skeered er patter-rollers den any thing else. Patter-rollers
diden' bodder folks much, lessen dey caught 'em offen dar marsters
plantations en dey diden' hab no pass. One night en durin' de war, de
patter-rollers cum ter our cabin, en I scrooge down under de kiver in de
bed. De patter-roller man tho' de kiver offen mah face, en he see me
blong dar, en he let me be, but Ah wuz skeered plumb ter death. Courtin'
folks got ketched en beat up by de patter-rollers mo' den enny buddy
else, kazen dey wuz allus slippen' out fer ter meet one er nudder at
night."
"When folks dat lived on diffunt plantations, en blonged ter diffunt
marsters wanted ter git married, dey hed ter ax both dar marsters fus'.
Den effen dar marsters 'gree on it, dey let 'em marry. De mans marster
'ud give de man er pass so he cud go see his wife et night, but he sho'
better be back on his own marsters farm when de bell ring evvy morning.
De chilluns 'ud blong ter de marster dat own de 'oman."
"Black folks wuz heap smarter den dey is now. Dem days de 'omans knowed
how ter cyard, en spin, en weave de cloff, en dey made de close. De mens
know how ter mek shoes ter wear den. Black folks diden' hev ter go cole
er hongry den, kaze dey marsters made 'em wuk en grow good crops, en den
der marsters fed 'em plenty en tuk keer uv 'em."
"Black folks wuz better folks den dey is now. Dey knowed dey hed ter be
good er dey got beat. De gals dey diden't sho' dare laigs lak dey do
now. Cloff hed ter be made den, en hit wuz er heap mo' trouble ter mek
er yahd er cloff, den it is ter buy it now, but 'omans en gals, dey
stayed kivvered up better den. Why, Ah 'member one time my mammy seed me
cummin' crost de yahd en she say mah dress too short. She tuk it offen
me, en rip out de hem, en ravel at de aig' er little, en den fus' thing
I knows, she got dat dress tail on ter de loom, en weave more cloff on
hit, twel it long enuf, lak she want it."
"Long 'bout dat time dey wuz killin' hawgs on de plantation, en it wuz
er moughty cole day. Miss Millie, she tell me fer ter tote dis quart er
brandy out dar fer ter warm up de mens dat wuz er wukkin in de cole
win'. 'Long de way, Ah keep er sippin' dat brandy, en time Ah got ter de
hawg killin' place Ah wuz crazy drunk en tryin' ter sing. Dat time
'twon't no overseer beat me. Dem slave mens beat me den fo' drinkin' dat
likker."
"Mah folks stayed on en wukked fo' Marse Ned long atter de war. When Ah
wuz mos' grown mah fam'ly moved ter Logansville. No, Ma'am, I ain't
nebber been so free en happy es when I diden' hev ter worry 'bout whar
de vittles en close gwine cum fum, en all Ah had ter do wuz wuk evvy day
lak mah whitefolks tole me."
[HW: Dist. 5 (Driskell)
Ex Slave #69]
AMANDA MCDANIEL, 80 yrs old
Ex-slave
[Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]
Among these few remaining persons who have lived long enough to tell of
some of their experiences during the reign of "King Slavery" in the
United States is one Mrs. Amanda McDaniel.
As she sat on the porch in the glare of the warm October sun she
presented a perfect picture of the old Negro Mammy commonly seen during
the days of slavery. She smiled as she expectorated a large amount of
the snuff she was chewing and began her story in the following manner:
"I was born in Watsonville, Georgia in 1850. My mother's name was
Matilda Hale and my father was Gilbert Whitlew. My mother and father
belonged to different master's, but the plantations that they lived on
were near each other and so my father was allowed to visit us often. My
mother had two other girls who were my half-sisters. You see--my mother
was sold to the speculator in Virginia and brought to Georgia where she
was sold to Mr. Hale, who was our master until freedom was declared.
When she was sold to the speculator the two girls who were my
half-sisters had to be sold with her because they were too young to be
separated from their mother. My father, Gilbert Whitlew, was my mother's
second husband.
"Mr. Hale, our master, was not rich like some of the other planters in
the community. His plantation was a small one and he only had eight
servants who were all women. He wasn't able to hire an overseer and all
of the heavy work such as the plowing was done by his sons. Mrs. Hale
did all of her own cooking and that of the slaves too. In all Mr. Hale
had eleven children. I had to nurse three of them before I was old
enough to go to the field to work."
When asked to tell about the kind of work the slaves had to do Mrs.
McDaniel said: "Our folks had to get up at four o'clock every morning
and feed the stock first. By the time it was light enough to see they
had to be in the fields where they hoed the cotton and the corn as well
as the other crops. Between ten and eleven o'clock everybody left the
field and went to the house where they worked until it was too dark to
see. My first job was to take breakfast to those working in the fields.
I used buckets for this. Besides this I had to drive the cows to and
from the pasture. The rest of the day was spent in taking care of Mrs.
Hale's young children. After a few years of this I was sent to the
fields where I planted peas, corn, etc. I also had to pick cotton when
that time came, but I never had to hoe and do the heavy work like my
mother and sisters did." According to Mrs. McDaniel they were seldom
required to work at night after they had left the fields but when such
occasions did arise they were usually in the form of spinning thread and
weaving cloth. During the winter months this was the only type of work
that they did. On days when the weather was too bad for work out of
doors they shelled the corn and peas and did other minor types of work
not requiring too much exposure. Nobody had to work on Saturday
afternoons or on Sundays. It was on Saturdays or at night that the
slaves had the chance to do their own work such as the repairing of
clothing, etc.
On the Hale plantation clothing was issued two times each year, once at
the beginning of summer and again at the beginning of the winter season.
On this first issue all were given striped dresses made of cotton
material. These dresses were for wear during the week while dresses made
of white muslin were given for Sunday wear. The dye which was necessary
in order to color those clothes worn during the week was made by boiling
red dirt or the bark of trees in water. Sometimes the indigo berry was
also used. The winter issue consisted of dresses made of woolen
material. The socks and stockings were all knitted. All of this wearing
apparel was made by Mrs. Hale. The shoes that these women slaves wore
were made in the nearby town at a place known as the tan yards. These
shoes were called "Brogans" and they were very crude in construction
having been made of very stiff leather. None of the clothing that was
worn on this plantation was bought as everything necessary for the
manufacture of clothing was available on the premises.
As has been previously stated, Mrs. Hale did all of the cooking on the
plantation with the possible exception of Sundays when the slaves cooked
for themselves. During the week their diet usually consisted of corn
bread, fat meat, vegetables, milk, and potliquor. The food that they ate
on Sunday was practically the same. All the food that they ate was
produced in the master's garden and there was a sufficient amount for
everyone at all times.
There were two one-room log cabins in the rear of the master's house.
These cabins were dedicated to slave use. Mrs. McDaniel says: "The
floors were made of heavy wooden planks. At one end of the cabin was the
chimney which was made out of dried mud, sticks, and dirt. On the side
of the cabin opposite the door there was a window where we got a little
air and a little light. Our beds were made out of the same kind of wood
that the floors were and we called them "Bed-Stilts." Slats were used
for springs while the mattresses were made of large bags stuffed with
straw. At night we used tallow candles for light and sometimes fat pine
that we called light-wood. As Mrs. Hale did all of our cooking we had
very few pots and pans. In the Winter months we used to take mud and
close the cracks left in the wall where the logs did not fit close
together."
According to Mrs. McDaniel all the serious illnesses were handled by a
doctor who was called in at such times. At other times Mr. or Mrs. Hale
gave them either castor oil or salts. Sometimes they were given a type
of oil called "lobelia oil." At the beginning of the spring season they
drank various teas made out of the roots that they gathered in the
surrounding woods. The only one that Mrs. McDaniel remembers is that
which was made from sassafras roots. "This was good to clean the
system," says Mrs. McDaniel. Whenever they were sick they did not have
to report to the master's house each day as was the case on some of the
other plantations. There were never any pretended illnesses to avoid
work as far as Mrs. McDaniel knows.
On Sunday all of the slaves on the Hale plantation were permitted to
dress in their Sunday clothes and go to the white church in town. During
the morning services they sat in the back of the church where they
listened to the white pastor deliver the sermon. In the afternoon they
listened to a sermon that was preached by a colored minister. Mrs.
McDaniel hasn't the slightest idea of what these sermons were about.
She remembers how marriages were performed, however, although the only
one that she ever witnessed took place on one of the neighboring
plantations. After a broom was placed on the ground a white minister
read the scriptures and then the couple in the process of being married
jumped over this broom. They were then considered as man and wife.
Whippings were very uncommon the the Hale plantation. Sometimes Mr. Hale
had to resort to this form of punishment for disobedience on the part of
some of the servants. Mrs. McDaniel says that she was whipped many times
but only once with the cowhide. Nearly every time that she was whipped a
switch was used. She has seen her mother as well as some of the others
punished but they were never beaten unmercifully. Neither she or any of
the other slaves on the Hale plantation ever came in contact with the
"Paddie-Rollers," whom they knew as a group of white men who went around
whipping slaves who were caught away from their respective homes without
passes from their masters. When asked about the buying and the selling
of slaves Mrs. McDaniel said that she had never witnessed an auction at
which slaves were being sold and that the only thing she knew about this
was what she had been told by her mother who had been separated from her
husband and sold in Georgia. Mr. Hale never had the occasion to sell any
of those slaves that he held.
Mrs. McDaniel remembers nothing of the talk that transpired between the
slaves or her owners at the beginning of the war. She says: "I was a
little girl, and like the other children then, I didn't have as much
sense as the children of today who are of the age that I was then. I do
remember that my master moved somewhere near Macon, Georgia after
General Wheeler marched through. I believe that he did more damage than
the Yanks did when they came through. When my master moved us along with
his family we had to go out of the way a great deal because General
Wheeler had destroyed all of the bridges. Besides this he damaged a
great deal of the property that he passed." Continuing, Mrs. McDaniel
said: "I didn't see any of the fighting but I did hear the firing of the
cannons. I also saw any number of Confederate soldiers pass by our
place." Mr. Hale didn't join the army although his oldest son did.
At the time that the slaves were freed it meant nothing in particular to
Mrs. McDaniel, who says that she was too young to pay much attention to
what was happening. She never saw her father after they moved away from
Watsonville. At any rate she and her mother remained in the service of
Mr. Hale for a number of years after the war. In the course of this time
Mr. Hale grew to be a wealthy man. He continued to be good to those
servants who remained with him. After she was a grown woman Mrs.
McDaniel left Mr. Hale as she was then married.
Mrs. McDaniel says that she has reached such an old age because she has
always taken care of herself, which is more than the young people of
today are doing, she added as an after thought.
Dist. 7
Ex. Slave #74
TOM McGRUDER, 102 years old
Ex-Slave
By Elizabeth Watson, Hawkinsville, Georgia
[Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]
Tom McGruder, one of the oldest living ex-slaves in Pulaski County, was
sitting on the porch of his son's home when we went in to see him. His
grizzled old head began to nod a "Good morning" and his brown face
became wreathed in smiles when he saw us.
He looked very small as he sat in a low straight chair by the door. His
shirt and overalls were ragged but spotlessly clean. On his feet were
heavy shoes that were kept free from dirt. His complexion was not black
as some of the other members of his race but was a light brown. There
were very few wrinkles in his face considering the fact that he was one
hundred and two years old in June. He spoke in a quiet voice though
somewhat falteringly as he suffers greatly from asthma.
"Were you born in this county, Uncle Tom?" we asked.
"No mam, Missus," he replied. "Me and my mother and sister wuz brought
from Virginia to this state by the speculators and sold here. I was only
about eighteen or twenty and I was sold for $1250. My mother was given
to one of Old Marster's married chillun.
"You see, Missus," he spoke again after a long pause. "We wuz put on the
block just like cattle and sold to one man today and another tomorrow. I
wuz sold three times after coming to this state."
Tom could tell us very little about his life on the large plantations
because his feeble old mind would only be clear at intervals. He would
begin relating some incident but would suddenly break off with, "I'd
better leave that alone 'cause I done forgot." He remembered, however,
that he trained dogs for his "whie folks," trained them to be good
hunters as that was one of the favorite sports of the day.
The last man to whom Tom was sold was Mr. Jim McGruder, of Emanuel
County. He was living in a small cabin belonging to Mr. McGruder, when
he married. "I 'members", said Tom, "That Old Marster and Missus fixed
up a lunch and they and their chillun brought it to my cabin. Then they
said, 'Nigger, jump the broom' and we wuz married, 'cause you see we
didn't know nothing 'bout no cer'mony."
It was with Mr. McGruder that Tom entered the army, working for him as
his valet.
"I wuz in the army for 'bout four years," Tom said. "I fought in the
battles at Petersburg, Virginia and Chattanooga, Tennessee. I looked
after Old Marster's shoes and clothes. Old Marster, what he done he done
well. He was kind to me and I guess better to me sometimes than I
deserved but I had to do what he told me."
"Do you remember any of the old songs you used to sing?" we asked.
"Missus, I can't sing no mo'," he replied. But pausing for a few minutes
he raised his head and sang in a quiet voice, the words and melody
perfectly clear;
"Why do you wait, dear brother,
Oh, why do you tarry so long?
Your Saviour is waiting to give you
A place in His sanctified throng."