When Morgan said "there is my record", he showed me a pass for the year
1938-39 for himself and his wife between all stations on the Missouri
Pacific lines signed by L.W. Baldwin, Chief Executive Officer.
He is a good man even if he is not a Christian as to church membership.
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person Interviewed: Olivia Morgan
Hazen, Ark.
Age: 62
"I am 62 years old. I was born in Lafayette County close to New
Lewisville. I heard mama say many a time she was named after her
state--North Carolina. Her name was Carolina Alexandria. They brought
her a slave girl to this new country. She and papa must of met up
toreckly after freedom. She had some children and I'm one of my papa's
oldest children.
"Papa come here long fore the war started. The old master in Atlanta,
Georgia--Abe Smith--give his son three boys and one girl. He emigrated
to Arkansas.
"Mama said her first husband and the young master went off and he never
come back as she knowed of. Young master played with mama's second girl
a whole heap. One day they was playing hiding round. Just as she come
running to the base from round the house, young master hit her on the
forehead with a rock. It killed her. Old master tried to school him but
he worried so they sent him off--thought it would do his health good to
travel. I don't think they ever come back.
"After freedom mama married and went over to papa's master's. Papa
stayed round there a long time. They got news some way they was to get
forty acres land and a mule to start out with but they said they never
got nothing.
"My papa said he knowed it to be a fact, the Ku Klux cut a colored
woman's breast off. I don't recollect why he said they got after her.
The Jayhawkers was bad too. They all went wild; some of em left men
hanging up in trees. They needed a good master to protect em worse after
the war than they needed em before. They said they had a Yankee
government then was reason of the Ku Klux. They run the Jayhawkers out
and made the Yankees go on home. Everybody had a hard time. Bread was
mighty scarce when I was a child. Times was hard. Men that had land had
to let it lay out. They had nothin' to feed the hands on, no money to
pay, no seed, no stock to work. The fences all went to rack and all the
houses nearly down. When I was a child they was havin' hard times.
"I'm a country woman. I farmed all my life. I been married two times; I
married Holmes, then Morgan. They dead. I washed, ironed, cooked, all at
Mr. Jim Buchannan's sawmill close to Lewisville two years and eight
months; then I went back to farmin' up at Pine Bluff. My oldest sister
washed and ironed for Mrs. Buchannan till she moved from the sawmill to
Texarkana. He lived right at the sawmill ground.
"My papa voted a Republican ticket. I don't vote. My husbands have voted
along. If the women would let the men have the business I think times
would be better. I don't believe in women voting. The men ought to make
the livings for the families, but the women doing too much. They
crowding the men out of work.
"Some folks is sorry in all colors. Seems like the young folks ain't got
no use for quiet country life. They buying too much. They say they have
to buy everything. I ain't had no depression yet. I been at work and we
had crop failures but I made it through. Some folks good and some ain't.
Times is bout to run away with some of the folks. They all say times is
better than they been since 1928. I hope times is on the mend."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Tom Morgan, Madison, Arkansas
Age: 71
"My mother was the mother of fourteen of us children. Their names was
Sarah and Richard Morgan.
"My great-grandfather b'long to Bill Woods. They had b'long to the
Morgans and when freedom come they changed their names back. Some of
them still owned by Morgans.
"Mother's owners was Auris and Lucella Harris. They had a boy named
Harley Harris and a girl. He had a small farm.
"Mother said her master wasn't bad, but my father said his owner was
tough on him--tough on all of them. They was all field hands. They had
to git up and be doing. He said they fed by torch morning and night and
rested in the heat of the day two or three hours. Feed the oxen and
mules. In them days stock and folks all et three times a day. I does
real well now to get two meals a day, sometimes but one. They done some
kind of work all the year 'round. He said they had tasks. They better
git the task done or they would get a beating.
"I haven't voted in so long a time. I voted Republican. I thought I did.
"I worked at the railroad till they put me off. They put me off on
disability. Trying to git my papers fixed up to work or get something
one. Back on the railroad job. I farmed when I was young."
El Dorado District
FOLKLORE SUBJECTS
Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson
Subject: Slavery Days--Cruel Master Murdered by Slaves
Story:--Information
This Information given by: Charity Morris
Place of Residence: Camden, Arkansas
Age: 90
[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]
Ah wuz born in Carolina uh slave an ah was de eldest daughtuh of
Christiana Webb whose owner wuz Master Louis Amos. Mah mammy had lots uv
chillun an she also mammied de white chillun, whut wuz lef' mammyless.
When ah wuz very small dey rented me out tuh some very po' white fokes.
Dey wuzn use tuh slaves so mah marster made him promise [HW: not] tuh
beat me or knock me bout. Dey promise dey wouldn. Dey cahried me home an
ah clare dey wuz so mean tuh me till ah run off an tried tuh fin' de way
back tuh mah marster. Night caught me in de woods. Ah sho' wuz skeered.
Ah wuz skeered uv bears an panthers so ah crawled up in a ole bandoned
crib an crouched down gainst de loft. Ah went off tuh sleep but wuz woke
by somethin scratchin on de wall below. Ah stayed close as ah could tuh
de wall an 'gin er prayin. Dat things scratched all night an ah prayed
all night. De nex' mawnin dese white fokes sent word tuh Marster dat ah
had lef' so Marster foun' me an took me home and let me stay dar too. Ah
didn' work in de fiel' ah worked in de house. We lived in uh log cabin.
Evah Sunda mawnin Marster Louis would have all us slaves tuh de house
while he would sing an pray an read de Bible tuh us all.
De people dat owned de plantation near us had lots of slaves. Dey owned
lots uv mah kin fokes. Dey marster would beat dem at night when dey come
fum de fiel' an lock em up. He'd whoop um an sen' um tuh de fiel'. Dey
couldn' visit no slaves an no slaves was 'lowed tuh visit em. So mah
cousin Sallie watched him hide de key so she moved dem a li'l further
back so dat he had tuh lean ovah tuh reach dem. Dat mawnin soon when he
come tuh let em out she cracked him in de haid wid de poker an made
little Joe help put his haid in de fiuh place. Dat day in de fiel'
Little Joe made er song; "If yo don' bleave Aunt Sallie kilt Marse Jim
de blood is on huh under dress". He jes hollered hit. "Aunt Sallie kilt
Marse Jim." Dey zamined Aunt Sallie's under dress so dey put huh in jail
till de baby come den dey tried huh an sentenced huh tuh be hung an she
wuz.
Our Marster use tuh tell us if we left de house de patarollers would
catch us. One night de patarollers run mah two brothers home, Joe an
Henry.
When de ole haid died out dey chillun got de property. Yo see we slaves
wuz de property. Den we got separated. Some sent one way an some nother.
Hit jes happent dat Marse Jim drawed me.
When de Wah broke out we could heah li'l things bein said. We couldn'
make out. So we begin tuh move erbout. Later we learnt we wuz runnin fum
de wah. In runnin we run intuh a bunch uv soldiers dat had got kilt. Oh
dat wuz terrible. Aftuh mah brudders foun out dat dey wuz fightin tuh
free us dey stole hosses an run erway tuh keep fum bein set free. Aftuh
we got tuh Morris Creek hit wuz bloody an dar wuz one uv de hosses
turnin roun an roun in de watuh wid his eyes shot out. We nevah saw
nuthin else uv Joe nor Henry nor de othuh horse from dat day tuh dis
one. But we went on an on till we come tuh a red house and dat red house
represented free. De white fokes wouldn go dat way cause dey hated tuh
give us up. Dey turnt an went de othuh way but hit wuz too late. De news
come dat Mr. Lincoln had signed de papuhs dat made us all free an dere
wuz some 'joicing ah tells yo. Ah wuz a grown woman at dat time. Ole
Moster Amos brought us on as fur as Fo'dyce an turnt us a loose. Dat's
wha' dey settled. Some uv de slaves stayed wid em an some went tuh othuh
places. Me an mah sistuh come tuh Camden an settled. Ah mahried George
Morris. We havn' seen our pa an ma since we wuz 'vided and since we wuz
chillun. When we got tuh Camden and settled down we went tuh work an
sont back tuh de ole country aftuh ma an pa. Enroute tuh dis country we
come through Tennessee an ah membuh comin through Memphis an Pine Bluff
to Fordyce.
As we wuz comin we stopped at de Mississippi Rivuh. Ah wuz standin on de
bank lookin at de great roll uv watuh high in de air. Somebody snatched
me back and de watuh took in de bank wha ah wuz standin. Yo cound'n
stand too close tuh de rivuh 'count uv de waves.
Der wuz a col' wintuh and at night we would gather roun a large camp
fire an play sich games as "Jack-in-de-bush cut him down" an "Ole gray
mule-out ride him." Yaul know dem games ah know. An in de summer times
at night we played _Julands_. On our way tuh Arkansas we drove ox-teams,
jinnie teams, donkey teams, mule teams an horse teams. We sho had a good
time.
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Emma Morris, Forrest City, Arkansas
Age: 71
"My parents was Jane and Sam McCaslin. They come from close to Atlanta,
Georgia to Hernando, Mississippi after slavery. Ma was heired and they
bought pa before they left North Carolina. They bought pa out of a
nigger drove after he was grown. He raised tobacco and corn. Pa helped
farm and they raised hogs. He drove hogs to sell. He didn't say where
they took the hogs, only they would have to stay up all night driving
the hogs, and they rode horses and walked too and had shepherd dogs to
keep them in a drove.
"Pa was a Böwick (B(our)ick) but I never heard him say nothing bout
Master Bowick, so I don't know his other name. He said they got in a
tight [TR: missing word?] and had to sell some of the slaves and he
being young would bring more than one of the older men. He was real
black. Ma was lighter but not very light.
"McCaslin was a low heavy set man and he rented out hacks and horses in
Atlanta and pa drove, greased the harness and curried and sheared the
horses. Master McCaslin brought them in town and rented them out. He
didn't have a livery stable. He just furnished conveyances. I heard him
tell about a good hitching post where he could more than apt rent out
his rig and how he always stopped and fed the horses when eating time
come. He took a feed box all the time. Master McCaslin would tell him to
not drive too hard when he had to make long drives. He never would let
him take a whoop.
"He had some girls I heard him say. May and Alice was their names. He
didn't say much about the family. He took a basket of provision with him
to eat Miss May and Miss Alice fixed up. The basket was close wove and
had a lid. The old man farmed. He drove too. He drove a hack. Ma worked
in the field. I heard her tell about the cockleburs. Well, she said they
would stick on your dress and stick your legs and you would have to pick
them off and sometimes the beggar's-lice would be thick on their clothes
and they would pick them off.
"When they would clean out the fence corners (rail fence) they would
leave every little wild plum tree and leave a whole lot of briers so
they would have wild plums and berries. They raised cotton. Sometime
during the War old Master McCaslin took all his slaves and stock way
back in the bottoms. The cane was big as ma's wrist she said. They put
up some cabins to live in and shelter the stock. Pa said some of em went
in the army. He didn't want to go. They worked a corn crop over in
there.
"They left soon as they was freed. I don't know how they found it out.
They walked to way over in Alabama and pa made terms with a man, to come
to Mississippi. Then they come in a wagon and walked too. She had three
little children. I was [HW: born] close to Montgomery, Alabama in
September but I don't know how long it was after the War. I was the
first girl. There was two more boys and three more girls after me. Ma
had children born in three states.
"Ma died with the typhoid fever. Then two sisters and a brother died. Pa
had it all summer and he got well. Miss (Mrs.) Betty Chamlin took us
children to a house and fed us away from ma and the sick girls and boy.
We was on her place. She had two families then. We got water from a
spring. It was a pretty spring under a big hill. We would wade where the
spring run off. She moved us out of that house.
"Miss Betty was a widow. She had several boys. They worked in the field
all the time. We stayed till the boys left and she sold her place. She
went back to her folks. I never did see her no more. We scattered out.
Pa lived about wid us till he died. I got three girls living. I got five
children dead. I got one girl out here from town and one girl at
Meridian and my oldest girl in Memphis. I takes it time around wid em.
"I seen the Ku Klux but they never bothered us. I seen them in Alabama,
I recken it was. I was so small I jes' do remember seeing them. I was
the onliest child born in Alabama. Pa made one crop. I don't know how
they got along the rest of the time there. We started share cropping in
Mississippi. Pa was always a good hand with stock. If they got sick they
sent for him to tell them what to do. He never owned no land, no home
neither.
"I farmed all my life. I used to make a little money along during the
year washing and ironing. I don't get no help. I live with the girls. My
girl in Memphis sends me a little change to buy my snuff and little
things I have to have. She cooks for a lawyer now. She did take care of
an lady. She died since I been here and she moved. I rather work in the
field than do what she done when that old lady lived. She was like a
baby to tend to. She had to stay in that house all the time.
"The young folks don't learn manners now like they used to. Times is
better than I ever seen em. Poor folks have a hard time any time. Some
folks got a lot and some ain't got nothing everywhere."
Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed: Claiborne Moss
1812 Marshall Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: 81
"I was born in Washington County, Georgia, on Archie Duggins'
plantation, fifteen miles from Sandersville, the county-seat, June 18,
1857.
"My mother's name was Ellen Moss. She was born in Georgia too, in
Hancock County, near Sparta, the county-seat. My father was Fluellen
Moss. He, too, was born in Hancock County. Bill Moss was his owner.
Jesse Battle was my mother's owner before she married. My mother and
father had ten children, none of them living now but me, so far as I
know. I was the fifth in line. There were four older than I. The oldest
was ten years older than I.
"Bill Moss' and Jesse Battle's plantations ware not far apart. I never
heard my father say how he first met my mother. I was only eight years
old when he died. They were all right there in the same neighborhood,
and they would go visiting. Battle and Moss and Evans all had
plantations in the same neighborhood and they would go from one place to
the other.
"When Bill Moss went to Texas, he gave my mother and father to Mrs.
Beck. Mrs. Beck was Battle's daughter and Mrs. Beck bought my father
from Moss and that kept them together. He was that good. Moss sold out
and went to Texas and all his slaves went walking while he went on the
train. He had about a hundred of them. When he got there, he couldn't
hear from them. He didn't know where they was--they was walking and he
had got on the train--so he killed hisself. When they got there, just
walking along, they found him dead.
"Moss' nephew, Whaley, got two parts of all he had. Another fellow--I
can't call his name--got one part. His sister, they sent her back
five--three of my uncles and two of my aunties.
"Where I was raised, Duggins wasn't a mean man. His slaves didn't get
out to work till after sunup. His brother, who lived three miles out
from us, made his folks get up before sunup. But Duggins didn't do that.
He seemed to think something of his folks. Every Saturday, he'd give
lard, flour, hog meat, syrup. That was all he had to give. That was
extra. War was going on and he couldn't get nothing else. On Wednesday
night he'd give it to them again. Of course, they would get corn-meal
and other things from the kitchen. They didn't eat in the kitchen or any
place together. Everybody got what there was on the place and cooked it
in his cabin.
"Before I was born, Beck sold my mother and father to Duggins. I don't
know why he sold them. They had an auction block in the town, but out in
the country they didn't have no block. If I had seen a nigger and wanted
to buy him, I would just go up to the owner and do business with him.
That was the way it was with Beck and Duggins. Selling my mother and
father was just a private transaction between them.