GEORGIA SMITH, Age 87
286 Augusta Ave.
Athens, Georgia
Written by:
Miss Grace McCune
Research Worker
Federal Writers' Project
Athens, Georgia
Edited by:
Mrs. Sarah H. Hall
Editor
Federal Writers' Project
Athens, Georgia
WPA Residency No. 6
April 6, 1938
The cold, rainy, and altogether disagreeable weather on the outside was
soon forgotten when the interviewer was admitted to the neat little home
of Aunt Georgia Smith and found the old woman enjoying the cheerful
warmth of her blazing fire.
Aunt Georgia appeared to be quite feeble. She was not only willing, but
eager to talk of her experiences, and explained that her slow and rather
indistinct articulation is one of the several bad after effects of her
recent stroke of paralysis.
"My pappy was Blackstone Smith, and he b'longed to Marse Jeb Smith. My
mammy was Nancy Chappell, owned by Mistus Peggie Chappell.
"I stayed wid my mammy on Mistus Chappell's plantation in Oglethorpe
County, near old Antioch Church. W'en I was 'bout five or six years ole
my mammy died. Den my pappy done come an' got me, an' I was to stay wid
'im on Marster Smith's place. Dey was good to me dar, but I warn't
satisfied, an' I cried for Old Mistus.
"I'd jes' go 'roun' snifflin', an' not eatin' nuffin', an' one day w'en
us was pickin' peaches, Marster Smith tole my pappy he better take dat
chile back to her old mistus, 'fo' she done git sick fer sho'.
"Hit was de next day w'en dey ax me did I want to see Old Mistus an' I
jes' cry an' say, 'yassum.' Den Marster say: 'Blackstone, hitch a mule
to dat wagon, an' take dat chile right back to her Old Mistus.' I tell
'em I can walk, but dey made me ride in de wagon, an' I sho' was glad I
was goin' back home.
"I seed Old Mistus 'fo' I got dar, an' jumped out of de wagon an' run to
'er. W'en she seed me, she jes' grabbed me, an' I thought she was a
laughin', but when I seed dat she was cryin', I tole 'er not to cry, dat
I warn't goin' to leave 'er no mo'.
"Mistus sho' was good to me, but she was good to all 'er niggers, an'
dey all loved 'er. Us allus had plenny of evvything, she made us wear
plenny of good warm clo'es, an' us wo'e flannel petticoats when hit was
cole weather. Chillun don't wear 'nuff clo'es dese days to keep 'em
warm, an nuffin' on deir legs. Hits a wonder dey doan' freeze.
"I diden' stay at de quarters with de udder niggers. Mistus kep' me in
de big 'ouse wid 'er, an' I slep' on a cotton mattress on de floor by de
side of 'er bed. She had a stick dat she used to punch me wid w'en she
wannid somepin' in de night, an' effen I was hard to wake, she sho'
could punch wid dat stick.
"Mistus diden' ever have us niggers whipped 'lessen it jes' had to be
done. An' if us chilluns was bad, fussin' an' fightin', Mistus would git
'er a stick, but us would jes' run an' hide, an' Mistus would forgit all
'bout it in jes' a little w'ile.
"Marster was dead, an' us had a overseer, but he was good to us jes'
lak' Mistus was. Hit was a big old plantation, wid lots of niggers. W'en
de overseer would try to larn de chilluns to plow an' dey diden' want to
larn, dey would jes' play 'roun'. Sometimes dey snuck off to de udder
side of de fiel' an' hunnid for lizards. Dey would hold a lizard's head
wid a stick, an' spit 'bacco juice in 'is mouf an' turn 'im loose. De
'bacco juice would make de lizard drunk, and he would run 'roun' an'
'roun'. Dey would cotch snakes, kill dem an' hang de skins on trees so
hit would rain an' dey wouldn't have to wuk in de fiel'.
"De quarters was built away f'um de big 'ouse. Dey was cabins made of
logs an' dey all had dey own gardens whar dey raised all kinds of
vegetables an' allus had plenny of hog meat. De cookin' was done on a
big fireplace an' in brick ovens. 'Taters was baked in de ashes, an' dey
sho' was good.
"Dey had big times huntin' an' fishin' w'en de wuk was over. Dey cotch
lots of 'possums, an' had big 'possum suppers. De 'possums was roasted
with plenny of 'taters, butter an' red pepper. Us would eat an' dance
most of de night w'en us had a 'possum supper.
"De rabbits was so bad in de gardens dat dey tuk white rags an' tied 'em
on sticks stuck up in de ground. Rabbits woulden' come 'roun' den, cyaze
dey was 'fraid of dem white rags flyin' on de sticks.
"Mistus b'lieved in lookin' atter her niggers w'en dey was sick. She
would give 'em medicine at home. Candy an' tea, made wid ho'e houn' an'
butterfly root tea was good for worms; dewberry wine, lak'wise dewberry
root tea was good for de stomach ache; samson snake root an' poplar bark
tea was good medicine for coles an' so'e th'oats, an' w'en you was in
pain, de red pepper bag would sho' help lots sometimes. If de homemade
medicine diden' cyore 'em, den Mistus sont for de doctor.
"Slaves went to de white folkses chu'ch an' sot up in de gallery. Dey
stayed all day at chu'ch, an' had big dinners on de groun'. Dem was sho'
'nough good dinners. Us had big times on meetin' days.
"Our slaves had prayer meetin' twict a week in deir quarters, 'til dey
got 'roun' to all de cabins den dey would start over again. Dey prayed
an' sung all de old songs, and some of 'em as I 'member are: 'Roll
Jordan Roll,'--'Better Mind How you Step on de Cross,'--'Cause You Ain'
Gon 'er be Here Long,'--'Tell de Story Bye an' Bye,'--'All God's
Chilluns are a Gatherin' Home,' an' 'We'll Understand Better Bye an'
Bye.' Dey really could sing dem old songs. Mistus would let me go to dem
cabin prayer meetin's an' I sho' did enjoy 'em.
"W'en slaves died dey jes' tuk 'em off an buried 'em. I doan' 'member
'em ever havin' a funeral, 'til way atter freedom done come an' niggers
got dey own chu'ches.
"I 'member one night dey had a quiltin' in de quarters. De quilt was up
in de frame, an' dey was all jes' quiltin' an' singin', 'All God's
Chilluns are a Gatherin' Home,' w'en a drunk man wannid to preach, an'
he jumped up on de quilt. Hit all fell down on de flo', an' dey all got
fightin' mad at 'im. Dey locked 'im in de smokehouse 'til mornin', but
dey diden' nobody tell Mistus nuffin' 'bout it.
"Us chilluns had to pick peas; two baskets full 'fo' dinner an' two 'fo'
night, an' dey was big baskets too. I 'member dere was a white widow
'oman what lived near our place, an' she had two boys. Mistus let dem
boys pick 'em some peas w'en us would be pickin', an' us would run 'em
off, cause us diden' lak' po' white trash. But Mistus made us let 'em
pick all dey wannid.
"I was 'bout twelve years old w'en freedom come, an' was big 'nough to
wait on Mistus good den. I 'member how I used to run to de spring wid a
little tin bucket w'en she wannid a fresh drink of water.
"Mos' of de slaves stayed with Mistus atter freedom come, 'cause dey all
loved her, an' dey diden' have no place to go. Mistus fed 'em jes' lak'
she had allus done and paid 'em a little money too. Us diden' never have
no fussin' an' fightin' on our place, an' de Ku Klux Klan never come
'roun' dar, but de niggers had to have a ticket if dey lef' de place on
Sunday. Dat was so de paddyrollers woulden' whip 'em if dey cotch 'em.
"All de niggers on de udder places, called us free niggers long 'fo'
freedom come, 'cause we diden' have no whippin' post, an' if any of us
jes' had to be whipped, Mistus would see dat dey warn't beat bad 'nough
to leave no stripes.
"My pappy left de old Smith plantation, soon atter he got 'is freedom,
an' went to Augusta, Georgia whar he died in jes' 'bout two years.
"I waked up one mornin' an' heered Mistus makin' a funny fuss. She was
tryin' to git up an' pullin' at her gown. I was plum skeert an' I runned
atter some of de udder folkses. Dey come a runnin' but she never did
speak no mo', an' diden' live but jes' a few hours longer. De white
folkses made me go to 'er funeral. Dere sho' was a big crowd of folkses
dar, 'cause evvybody loved Mistus; she was so good to evvybody. Dey
diden' preach long, mos'ly jes' prayed an' sung Mistus' favorite songs:
'All God's Chillun are a Gatherin' Home,' and', 'We'll Understand Bye
an' Bye.'
"I lef' de old place not long atter Mistus died, 'cause hit was too
lonesome dar an' I missed her so much, I come to town an' jes' wukked
for white folkses. I doan' 'member all of 'em. But I cain' wuk no mo'
now, an' hit woan' be so long 'til I see my old Mistus again, an' den I
can still wait on her, an' we woan' have to part no mo'."
[HW: Dist. 2
Ex Slave 101]
EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW:
MARY SMITH
910 Spruce Street
Augusta, Georgia
(Richmond County)
BY: (Mrs.) Margaret Johnson
Editor
Fed. Writer's Proj.
Augusta, Georgia
[Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]
Such a hovel, such squalor it would be hard to imagine. Only first hand
observation could be a reliable witness to such conditions.
Into a tiny room was squeezed a double and a single bed with a
passage-way barely wide enough to walk between the two beds. The door
from the small porch could be opened only enough to allow one to enter,
as the head on the single bed was against it. A small fire burned in the
open fire place. An old man, ragged but respectful, and two old women
were sitting in the room, one on a broken chair, the other on an empty
nail keg. As we entered the room one of the old women got up, took a
badly clipped and handleless teacup from the hearth and offered it to a
girl lying in the single bed, in a smother of dirty quilts.
Mary was a squat figure, her head tied up in a dirty towel, her dress
ragged and dirty, and much too small for her abundant figure. She
welcomed us telling us the "po chile was bad sick" but she would talk to
us. As the door of the lean-to kitchen was open, it offered a breath of
outside air, even though polluted with the garbage scattered on the
ground, and the odors from chickens, cats and dogs meandering about.
Mary's round face was unwrinkled, but the wisps of wool showing beneath
her "head rag" were grey, and her eyes were rheumy with age. She was
entirely toothless and her large tongue rolled ceaselessly in her mouth,
chewing nothing.
Her articulation necessarily was very poor. "I wus seven yeres old when
Freedum cum. My ma and pa belonged to Mr. McNorrell of Burke County.
Miss Sally was a good lady and kind to evebody. My marster was a good
man cuz he was a preacher, I never member him whuppin' anybody. I
'members slavry, yes mam, I 'members all the slaves' meals wus cooked in
de yard, in big pots hung up on hooks on a iron bar. The fust wurk I
ever done wus to push fire wood under dem pots. Mostly I stayed home and
minded de baby. My ma uster pin a piece of fat back on my dres' before
she went to de fiel' and when de baby cry I tek him up and let 'em suck
'em. My brudder you see sittin' in dere, he de baby I uster mine. My pa
wuz the blacksmith on the plantashun, and he mek all de plows and tings
like dat. My ma tek me to de fiel when I wuz 'bout sever yeres ole and
teach me to chop cotton, I don't member what happen when freedom come,
tings wuz 'bout de same, fur as we chillun knowed."
Elizabeth Watson
M.G. 7/15/37
MELVIN SMITH, Ex-Slave, 96 Years
[Date Stamp: JUL 28 1937]
"Yes'm, I show does 'member all 'about my white folks an' th' war 'cause
I was twenty-four year ole when th' war was over. I was born in 1841 an'
that makes me 'bout eighty-seven now, don't it?"
Old Melvin Smith sat back in his chair with a smile of satisfaction on
his face. He was seated on the narrow porch of his little cabin with the
bright sunshine beaming down upon him. But his blind eyes could not
notice the glare from the sun. His wife and daughter appeared from
around the corner of the house and took their places near him to hear
again the story that they had heard many times before.
"My white folks lived in Beaufort, South Ca'lina, an' that's whar I was
born," Melvin continued. "My old Miss, I called her Miss Mary, took care
of me 'till I was eight year old. Then she give me back to my ma. You
see, it was this a-way. My ma an' pa was sold in Beaufort; I don't know
whar they come from before that. When I was born Miss Mary took me in
th' big house with her an' thar I stayed, jest like I told you, 'till I
was eight. Old Miss jest wanted me to be in th' room with her an' I
slep' on a pallet right near her bed. In the daytime I played in th'
yard an' I pick up chips for old Miss. Then when I got most big enuff to
work she give me back to my ma.
"Then I live in a cabin like the rest of th' niggers. Th' quarters was
stretched out in a line behind Marse Jim's house. Ever' nigger fam'ly
had a house to theyselves. Me an' my pa an' ma, they names was Nancy an'
Henry Smith, live in a cabin with my sisters. They names was Saphronia
an' Annie. We had beds in them cabins made out of cypress. They looked
jest like they do now. Ever'body cooked on th' fire place. They had pots
an' boilers that hung over th' fire an' we put th' vittles in thar an'
they cooked an' we et 'em. 'Course we never et so much in th' cabin
'cause ever mornin' th' folks all went to th' field. Ma an' Pa was field
hands an' I worked thar too when I got big enuff. Saphronia an' Annie,
they worked to th' big house. All th' nigger chillun stayed all day with
a woman that was hired to take care of them."
When asked about the kind of food they ate, Melvin replied:
"We had enuff for anybody. Th' vittles was cooked in great big pots over
th' fire jest like they was cookin' for stock. Peas in this pot, greens
in that one. Corn-bread was made up an' put back in th' husks an' cooked
in th' ashes. They called that a ash cake. Well, when ever'thing was
done th' vittles was poured in a trough an' we all et. We had spoons cut
out of wood that we et with. Thar was a big lake on th' plantation whar
we could fish an' they show was good when we had 'em for supper.
Sometimes we go huntin' an' then we had possum an' squirrel to eat. Th'
possums was best of all."
Melvin was asked to tell something about his master's family.
"Old Marster was name Jim Farrell an' his wife was Miss Mary. They had
three chillun name Mary, Jim an' Martha. They live in a big white house
sot off from th' road 'bout two an' a half mile from Beaufort. Marster
was rich I reckon 'cause he had 'bout a sixteen horse farm an' a whole
hoodle of niggers. If you measured 'em it would a-been several cowpens
full. Heap of them niggers worked in Marster's house to wait on th'
white folks. They had a heap of comp'ny so they had to have a heap of
niggers. Marster was good to his niggers but he had a overseer that was
a mean man. He beat th' niggers so bad that Marster showed him th' road
an' told him to git. Then th' Boss an' his son looked after th' hands
theyselves 'till they could git another one. That overseer's name was
Jimmy.
"Ever' mornin' at four clock th' overseer blowed a conchshell an' all us
niggers knowed it was time to git up an' go to work. Sometimes he blowed
a bugle that'd wake up the nation. Ever'body worked from sunup 'till
sundown. If we didn't git up when we was s'posed to we got a beatin'.
Marster'd make 'em beat the part that couldn't be bought." Melvin
chuckled at his own sly way of saying that the slaves were whipped
through their clothes.
"In the summertime," he continued, "We wore shirts that come down to
here." Melvin measured to his ankle. "In the wintertime we wore heavy
jeans over them shirts an' brogan shoes. They made shoes on the
plantation but mine was store-bought. Marster give us all the vittles
an' clothes we needed. He was good to ever'body. I 'member all the po'
white trash that lived near us. Marster all time send 'em meat an' bread
an' help 'em with they crop. Some of 'em come from Goldsboro, North
Ca'lina to git a crop whar we lived. They was so sorry they couldn't git
no crop whar they come frum, so they moved near us. Sometimes they even
come to see the niggers an' et with us. We went to see them, too, but we
had more to eat than them. They was sorry folks."
After a pause, Melvin asked:
"Did you ever hear how the niggers was sold? They was put on a stage on
the courthouse square an' sold kinder like they was stock. The prettiest
one got the biggest bid. They said that they was a market in North
Ca'lina but I never see'd it. The ones I saw was jest sold like I told
you. Then they went home with they marsters. If they tried to run away
they sont the hounds after them. Them dogs would sniff around an' first
news you knowed they caught them niggers. Marster's niggers run away
some but they always come back. They'd hear that they could have a
better time up north so they think they try it. But they found out that
they wasn't no easy way to live away from Marster. He always took 'em
back, didn't beat 'em nor nothin'. I run away once myself but I never
went nowhere." Melvin's long body shook with laughter as he thought of
his prank. He shifted in his chair and then began:
"I was 'bout sixteen an' I took a notion I was grown. So I got under the
house right under Marster's dinin' room an' thar I stayed for three
months. Nobody but the cook knowed whar I was. They was a hole cut in
the floor so ever' day she lifted the lid an' give me something to eat.
Ever' day I sneaked out an' got some water an' walked about a bit but I
never let nobody see me. I jest got biggety like chillun does now. When
I got ready to come out for good I went 'way round by the barn an' come
up so nobody know whar I been. Ol' Miss was standin' in the yard an' she
spy me an' say, 'Jim," she always call all us niggers Jim 'cause that
was Marster's name. She say, "Jim, whar you been so long?' I say, 'I
been to Mr. Jones's workin' but I don't like the way they treat me. You
all treats me better over here so I come back home.' I say, 'You ain't
gonna whip me is you, Miss?' Ol' Miss say, 'No, I ain't gonna whip you
this time but if you do such a thing again I'm gonna use all the leather
on this place on you." So I went on 'bout my business an' they never
bothered me."
Melvin was asked about the church he attended. To this he replied:
"The niggers had a church in the bush arbor right thar on the place.
Preacher Sam Bell come ever' Sunday mornin' at ten clock an' we sot thar
an' listened to him 'till 'leven thirty. Then we tear home an' eat our
dinner an' lie round till four-thirty. We'd go back to church an' stay
'bout hour an' come home for supper. The preacher was the onliest one
that could read the Bible. When a nigger joined the church he was
baptized in the creek near the bush arbor." And in a low tone he began
to speak the words of the old song though he became somewhat confused.
"Lord, remember all Thy dying groans,
And then remember me.
While others fought to win the prize
And sailed through bloody sea.
"Through many dangers, toils an' snares,
I have already come.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind but now I see."
"I've knowed that song for a long time. I been a member of the church
for sixty year."
When asked about the war, Melvin became somewhat excited. He rose feebly
to his feet and clasped his walking stick as if it were a gun.
"I see'd the Yankee soldiers drill right thar in front of our house," he
said. "They'd be marchin' 'long this way (Melvin stumblingly took a few
steps across the porch) an' the cap'n say, 'Right' an' they turn back
this here way." Melvin retraced his steps to illustrate his words.
"Cap'n say, 'Aim' an' they aim." He lifted his stick and aimed. "Cap'n
say, 'Fire' an' they fire. I see'd 'em most ever' day. Ol' Marster was a
cap'n in our army. I hear big guns a-boomin' all a-time an' the sights I
did see! Streets jest runnin' with blood jest like it was water. Here
lay a man on this side with his legs shot off; on that thar side they
was a man with his arms shot off. Some of them never had no head. It was
a terrible sight. I wasn't scared 'cause I knowed they wouldn't hurt me.
Them Yankees never bothered nothin' we had. I hear some folks say that
they stole they vittles but they never bothered ours 'cause they had
plenty of they own. After the war Marster called us together an' say,
'You is free an' can go if you want to' an' I left, so that's all I
know."
A few days later a second visit was made to Melvin. This time he was on
the inside of his little cabin and was all alone. He came forward, a
broad smile on his face, when he heard familiar voices.
"I been thinkin' 'bout what I told you an' I b'lieve that's 'bout all I
'member," he said.
Then he was asked if he remembered any days when the slaves did not have
to work.
"Yes'm," was the reply. "We never worked on Christmas or the Fourth of
July. Marster always give us big sacks of fruit an' candy on Christmas
an' a barbecue the Fourth of July. We never worked none New Year's Day,
neither. We jest sot around an' et chicken, fish an' biscuit. Durin' the
week on Wednesday an' Thursday night we had dances an' then they was a
lot of fiddlin' an' banjo playin'. We was glad to see days when we never
had to work 'cause then we could sleep. It seem like the niggers had to
git up soon's they lay down. Marster was good to us but the overseer was
mean. He wan't no po' white trash; he was up-to-date but he like to beat
on niggers."
When asked if he has been happier since he was freed, he replied:
"In a sense the niggers is better off since freedom come. Ol' Marster
was good an' kind but I like to be free to go whar I please. Back then
we couldn't go nowhar 'less we had a pass. We don't have no overseer to
bother us now. It ain't that I didn't love my Marster but I jest likes
to be free. Jest as soon as Marster said I didn't b'long to nobody no
more I left an' went to Tallahassee. Mr. Charlie Pearce come an' wanted
some hands to work in orange groves an' fish for him so that's what I
done. He took a whole crew. While we was down thar Miss Carrie Standard,
a white lady, had a school for the colored folks. 'Course, my ol' Miss
had done taught me to read an' write out of the old blue back Webster
but I had done forgot how. Miss Carrie had 'bout fifteen in her class.
"I stayed in Tallahassee three years an' that's whar I married the first
time. I was jest romancin' about an' happened to see Ca'line Harris so I
married her. That was a year after the war. We never had no preacher but
after we been goin' together for such a long time folks say we married.
We married jest like the colored folks does now. When I left Tallahassee
I moved to another place in Florida, thirteen mile from Thomasville, Ga.
I stay thar 'bout thirty-seven year. My first wife died an' I married
another. The second one lived twenty-one year an' I married again. The
one what's livin' now is my third one. In 1905 she had a baby that was
born with two lower teeth. It never lived but a year. In all, I've had
twenty-three chillun. They most all lives in Florida an' I don't know
what they doin' or how many chillun they got. I got four gran'-chillun
livin' here."
Melvin was asked to tell what he knew of the Ku Klux Klan. He answered:
"I don't know nothin' 'bout that, I hear somethin' 'bout it but I never
b'lieved in it. I b'lieve in h'ants, though. I ain't never see'd one but
I'se heard 'em. When you walkin' 'long an' a twig snaps an' you feel
like you want to run an' your legs won't move an' your hair feels like
it's goin' to rise off your head, that's a ha'nt after you. That sho is
the evil sperrit. An' if you ain't good somethin' bad'll happen to you."
When asked why he joined the church, he replied:
"So many people is tryin' to live on flowery beds of ease that the world
is in a gamblin' position an' if it wasn't for the Christian part, the
world would be destroyed. They ask God for mercy an' He grants it. When
they git in trouble they can send a telegram wire an' git relief from on
high."