*Interview with Anthony Abercrombie*
--_Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama_
_OLD JOE CAN KEEP HIS TWO BITS_
Uncle Ant'ny sat dozing in the early morning sunshine on his rickety
front porch. He is a thin little old man with patches of white wool here
and there on his bald head, and an expression of kindness and gentleness
on his wrinkled old face.
As I went cautiously up the steps, which appeared none too safe, his
cane which had been leaning against his chair, fell to the floor with a
clatter. He awoke with a start and began fumbling around for it with his
trembling and bony hands.
"Uncle Ant'ny, you don't see so well, do you?" I asked as I recovered
the stick for him. "No ma'am, I sho' don't," he replied. "I ain't seed
none outen one of my eyes in near 'bout sixty years, and de doctor say I
got a catalac on de yuther one; but I knows you is white folks. I always
is been puny, but I reckon I does purty well considerin' I is a hundred
years old."
"How do you know you are that old?" I inquired of him. Without
hesitation he answered, "I knows I's dat old 'cause my mistis put it
down in de Bible. I was born on de fourth day and I was a full growed
man when de war come on in '61.
"Yassum, my mind kinder comes and goes, but I can always 'member 'bout
slave'y time. Hits de things what happen in dese days dat's so easy for
me to disremember. I b'longed to Marster Jim Abercrombie. His plantation
was 'bout sixteen miles north of Marion in Bibb county. When his son,
young Jim, ma'ied, old Marse Jim give me to him and he fetched me to
Perry county.
"No'm, old marster didn't go to war 'ca'se he was corrupted; he was deaf
in bofe ears and couldn't see good nuther. But he didn't care much 'bout
me 'caze I was puny like and warn't much 'count in de field.
"My mistis, Miss Lou, was raisin' me up to be a carriage driver, an' she
was jes' as good to me as she could be. She useta dose me up wid castor
oil, jimson root, and dogwood tea when I'd be feelin' po'ly, and she'd
always take up for me when Marse Jim get in behind me 'bout somep'n. I
reckon though I was a purty worrisome nigger in dem days; always gettin'
in some kind of mischief.
"O yassum, I useta go to meetin'. Us niggers didn't have no meetin'
house on de plantation, but Marse Jim 'lowed us to build a brush arbor.
Den two years atter de surrender I took consideration and j'ined up wid
de Lawd. Dat's how come I live so long. De Lawd done told me, 'Antn'y,
you got a hundred and twenty miles to trabel. Dat mean you gwine to live
a hundred and twenty years, if you stay on de straight an' narrow road.
But if you don't, you gotter go jes' de same as all de yuthers.'"
"Tell me something about your master's slaves and his overseers," I
asked of him.
"Well," he said, "Marse Jim had 'bout three hundred slaves, and he hed
one mighty bad overseer. But he got killed down on de bank of de creek
one night. Dey never did find out who killed him, but Marse Jim always
b'lieved de field han's done it. 'Fore dat us niggers useta go down to
de creek to wash ourselves, but atter de overseer got killed down dar,
us jes' leave off dat washin', 'cause some of 'em seed de overseer's
ha'nt down dar floatin' over de creek.
"Dar was another ha'nt on de plantation, too. Marse Jim had some trouble
wid a big double-j'inted nigger named Joe. One day he turn on Marse Jim
wid a fence rail, and Marse Jim had to pull his gun an' kill him. Well,
dat happen in a skirt of woods what I get my lightwood what I use to
start a fire. One day I went to dem same woods to get some 'simmons.
Another nigger went wid me, and he clumb de tree to shake de 'simmons
down whilst I be pickin' 'em up. 'Fore long I heared another tree
shakin' every time us shake our tree, dat other tree shake too, and down
came de 'simmons from it. I say to myself, 'Dat's Joe, 'cause he likes
'simmons too.' Den I grab up my basket and holler to de boy in de tree,
'nigger turn loose and drap down from dar, and ketch up wid me if you
can. I's leavin' here right now, 'cause Old Joe is over dar gettin'
'simmons too.'
"Den another time I was in de woods choppin' lightwood. It was 'bout
sundown, and every time my ax go 'whack' on de lightwood knot, I hear
another whack 'sides mine. I stops and lis'ens and don't hear nothin'.
Den I starts choppin' ag'in I hears de yuther whacks. By dat time my
houn' dog was crouchin' at my feets, wid de hair standin' up on his back
and I couldn't make him git up nor budge.
"Dis time I didn' stop for nothin'. I jes' drap my ax right dar, an' me
and dat houn' dog tore out for home lickety split. When us got dar Marse
Jim was settin' on de porch, an' he say: 'Nigger, you been up to somep'n
you got no business. You is all outen breath. Who you runnin' from?' Den
I say: 'Marse Jim, somebody 'sides me is choppin' in yo' woods, an' I
can't see him. And Marse Jim, he say: 'Ah, dat ain't nobody but Ole Joe.
Did he owe you anythin'?' An' I say: 'Yassah, he owe me two-bits for
helpin' him shuck corn.' 'Well,' Marse Jim say, 'don't pay him no mind:
it jes' Old Joe come back to pay you.'
"Anyhow, I didn' go back to dem woods no mo'. Old Joe can jes' have de
two-bits what he owe me, 'cause I don't want him follerin' 'roun' atter
me. When he do I can't keep my mind on my business."