District No.: 3
Worker: Travis Jordan
Subject: Clara Cotton McCoy
Ex-slave 82 years
Durham, N.C. RFD #7
CLARA COTTON MC-COY
EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS
"Yes'm, I was bawn eighty-two years ago. My mammy died den an' my
gran'mammy raised me. I sho do 'member when dat man Sherman an' his
mens marched through Orange County, but, it didn' take no army of
Yankees to ruin my white folks home, it took jus' one Yankee, but even
dat didn' bow my Mistis' head.
"I ain't never seed nobody as proud as my Mis' 'Riah Cotton. She never
bowed her head to trouble nor nobody; she never even bowed her head in
chu'ch. When de preacher prayed she jus' folded her hands an' set up
straight, facin' de Lawd wid no fear. No, suh, my Mistis ain't gwine
bow her head no time. Young Mis' Laughter broke her mammy's heart, but
she ain't make her bend her head.
"Mis' Laughter's sho nuff name was Mis' Clorena Cotton. She wasn' tall
an' dark like Mis' 'Riah; she was little an' roun' an' pretty as a
thorn flower, all pink an' gol'. She was jus' like a butterfly, never
still a minute, skippin' here an' yonder, laughin' wid everybody. Dat's
whare she got her name. Us niggers 'gun to call her Mis' Laughter kaze
she was so happy. She was de only one dat could make Mis' 'Riah smile.
She would run up to Mis' 'Riah an' ruffle her hair dat she done comb
back so slick an' smooth, den she would stick a red rose behin' her
ear, an' say: 'Now, pretty Mammy, you look like you did when Pappy come
cou'tin'.' Marse Ned would lay down his paper an' look fus' at Mis'
'Riah den at Mis' Laughter, an' for a minute Mis' 'Riah would smile,
den she would look firm an' say to Mis' Laughter, 'Don't you know dat
rightousness an' virtue am more 'ceptable to de Lawd den beauty? You's
worldly, Clorena, you's too worldly.'
"Mis' Laughter would throw back her head an' laugh, an' her eyes would
shine bright as blue glass marbles. She tole Mis' 'Riah dat she 'specs
dat when her man come he gwine see her face befo' he seed her
rightousness, so she gwine wear roses an' curls den he would know her
when he seed her. Den befo' Mis' 'Riah could speak her mind, Mis'
Laughter done gone skippin' down de hall, her little feets in de gol'
slippers twinklin' from de ruffles of her pantalets. Everybody on de
place love dat chile an' de house wasn' never de same after she done
gone away.
"My gran'mammy, Rowena, say dat Mis' 'Riah was bawn for trouble. She
was bawn de las' day of March 'tween midnight an' day. De moon was on
de wane, an' jus 'as Mistis was bawn de wind come down de chimbley an'
blew de ashes out on de hearth. Gran'mammy say dat mean trouble an'
death; dat new bawn baby ain't never gwine keep long de things she love
de mos', an' she better never love nobody too well, if she do dey gwine
be took away from her, an' trouble sho did follow Mis' 'Riah after she
growed up.
"When de war come Marse Ned went off to fight. He was Marse General
Cotton den. Dat didn't leave nobody at home 'cept Mis' 'Riah, her
mammy, Mis' Roberta Davis, but we called her ole Mistis, den dare was
Mis' Laughter an' young Marse Jerome. Young Marse wasn' but fifteen
when de war started, but dey got him in de las' call an' he didn' never
come back no more.
"De plantation was big, but Mis' 'Riah 'tended to things an' handled de
niggers same as a man. De fus' year of de war she rode a hoss 'bout de
fields like an overseer, seein' after de cotton an' cawn an' taters.
But de Yankees come an' set fire to de cotton; dey took de cawn to dey
camp for dey hosses, an' dey toted off de taters to eat. De nex year
Mis' 'Riah didn' plant no cotton a tall kaze de seeds an' gin done been
burned up, but she had de niggers plant cawn, taters an' a good garden.
Dat fall de wind blew de hickory leaves to de no'th an' by spring
trouble done come sho nuff. Dey was a drouth an' de cawn didn' come up;
de garden burned to pa'chment, but de taters done all right. Wid all
dat Mis' 'Riah held up her head an' kep' goin'. Den one day a buzzard
flew over de house top an' his wings spread a shadow out on de roof.
Dat night death come an' got Ole Mistis. She passed on to glory in her
sleep. ''Twas de lawd's will,' Mis' 'Riah tole gran'mammy, an' she
still held up her head. But Gran'mammy said dat if somebody had shot
dat buzzard an' wiped his shadow off de roof Ole Mistis wouldn' have
gone nowhare.
"De nex' spring dey wasn' much to plant. De Yankees done kep' totin'
off everything, hosses an' all, 'twell dey wasn' much lef'. But de
niggers, gran'mammy an' pappy along wid dem, dug up de garden wid de
grubbin hoe an' planted what seeds dey had. Mis' 'Riah's an' Mis'
Laughter's clothes 'gun to look ole, but gran'mammy kep' dem washed an'
sta'ched stiff. 'Twas Mis' Laughter dat kep' us from frettin' too much.
She would look at Mis' Riah an' say, 'We'll be all right, Mammy, when
Marse Ned comes home.' Sometime she call her pappy Marse Ned jus' like
dat. One day Marse Ned did come home. Dey brung him home. 'Twas 'bout
sunset. I 'members kaze 'twas de same day dat my ole black hen hatched
de duck eggs I done set her on, an' de apple trees wus bloomin'. De
blooms look jus' like droves of pink butterflies flyin' on de sky. Dey
brought Marse Ned in de house an' laid him out in de parlor. Mis' 'Riah
stood straight 'side him wid her head up. 'Twas de Lawd's will, she
tole Gran'mammy, but Gran'mammy shook her head an 'gun to cry, an' say:
'You can't put dat on de Lawd, Mis' 'Riah, you sho can't. 'Twasn' de
Lawd's will a tall, 'twas de will of de cussed Yankees.' Den she turn
'roun' an' took Mis' Laughter's hand an' led her up stairs an' put her
to bed.
"After dat things got worse. Dat wind dat blew trouble down de chimbley
for Mis' 'Riah when she was bawn 'gun to blow harder. De war got young
Marse Jerome an' shot him down. Dey won't much to eat, de coffee was
made out of parched cawn an' de sweetnin' was cane lasses, an' de ham
an' white bread done been gone a long time. Dey won't no eggs an'
chickens, an' dey won't but one fresh cow, but nobody ain't never seed
Mis' 'Riah bow her head nor shed a tear.
"When de surrender come dey was Yankees camped all 'roun' de plantation
an' Hillsboro was full of dem. One day a Yankee mans come to de house.
He was young. He come to see if Mis' 'Riah didn' want to sell her
place. Mis' 'Riah stood in de door an' talked to him, she wouldn' let
him come on de po'ch. She tole him she would starve befo' she would
sell one foot of her lan' to a Yankee, an' dat he shouldn' darken de
door of her house.
"'Bout dat time Mis' Laughter come down de hall an' stood behin' her
mammy. Her hair curled 'bout her head yellow as a dandylion an' she had
on a blue dress. When dat sojer seed her he stopped an' dey looked an'
looked at each other 'twell Mis' 'Riah turned 'roun'. When she done dat
Mis' Laughter turned an' run up de stairs.
"After dat Mis' 'Riah wouldn' let dat chile go no place by hersef. I
was her bodyguard, everywhare she went I had to go too. We would go to
walk down in de pine woods back of de paster, an' somehow dat Yankee
would go to walk in dem woods too. Every time we seed him he would give
me a piece of money, an' when I got back to de house I didn' tell
nothin'. Den one day I heard dat sojer tell Mis' Laughter dat he was
gwine away. Mis' Laughter 'gun to cry an' I didn' hear what else dey
said kaze dey sent me down de path. But dat night Mis' Laughter put her
clothes in her box an' made me tote it down to de paster an' hide it in
de blackberry patch. Den she give me a note an' tole me to go to bed
an' go to sleep, but when mornin' come to give de note to Mis' 'Riah.
"De nex' mornin' I give de note to Mis' 'Riah, but by den Mis' Laughter
done gone off wid dat Yankee. Mis' 'Riah called all us niggers in de
big room. She took down de family Bible from de stand an' marked out
Mis' Laughter's name. 'I ain't got no daughter,' she say. ''Member, de
chile dat I had am dead an' her name mustn' never be called in dis
house no more.'
"We all went out 'cept Gran'mammy, but Mis' 'Riah wouldn' let her talk
to her 'bout forgivin' Mis' Laughter, an' when de letters 'gun to come
dey was sent back unopened.
"Mis' 'Riah's niece, Mis' Betty an' Marse John Davis, hur husban', come
to live wid Mis' 'Riah to help her 'ten' to things, but nobody was
'lowed to call Mis' Laughter's name. Even though dey was free,
gran'mammy an' pappy an' some more of us niggers stayed on at de
plantation helpin' on de farm, but in 'bout a year Mis' 'Riah took
sick. Mis' Betty wanted to sen' for Mis' Laughter, but Mis' 'Riah
wouldn' even answer, but Mis' Betty sent for her anyhow an' kept her
down stairs. Den one day de sun turned black an' de chickens went to
roost in de day time. Gran'mammy flung her apron over her face an' 'gun
to pray kase she knew de death angel was comin' after Mis' 'Riah. Mis'
Betty got Mis' Laughter an' when she come up de stairs all us house
niggers stood in de hall watchin' her go in to see Mis' 'Riah. She was
layin' on de bed wid her eyes shut like she was sleep.
"Mis' Laughter went in an' kneel down by de bed. 'Mammy, Mammy,' she
say soft jus' like dat.
"Mis' 'Riah's hands caught hold of de quilt tight, but she ain't opened
her eyes. Gran'mammy went up an' laid her hand on her head, but she
shook it off.
"De tears was runnin' down Mis' Laughter's cheeks. 'Mammy,' she say,
'I'se sorry--I loves you, Mammy.'
"Mis' 'Riah turned her face to de wall an' her back on Mis' Laughter.
She ain't never opened her eyes. 'Bout dat time de sun come out from
behin' dem black wings of shadow an' Mis' 'Riah's soul went on to glory
to meet Marse Ned.
"Yes'm, Mis' 'Riah sho was proud, but Gran'mammy say 'twon' no war dat
brung all dat trouble on her, she say 'twas de wind dat come down de
chimbley de night she was bawn--de no'th wind dat blowed de ashes 'bout
de hearth."
N.C. District: No. 2
Worker: Mary Hicks
No. Words: 535
Subject: A GOOD MISTRESS
Teller: Henrietta McCullers
Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt