*Interview with Esther King Casey*
--_Edward F. Harper, Birmingham_
Living with her grandchildren at 801 Washington Avenue, Birmingham,
Alabama, Esther King Casey, former slave of Capt. Henry King of
Americus, Georgia, recalls from fading memory a few vivid scenes of the
days when men in gray moved hurridly about the town, suddenly
disappeared for a while and then returned, one by one, with weary,
halting tread and hollow faces, while gloom and despair hovered over the
town like a pall of desolation.
Less vivid in her memory are the stories told her by her grandmother of
a long voyage across the ocean, of the arrival in a new land called
Mobile, and of slaves being sold at public auction. Less vivid, too, are
the memories of her own journey to Georgia, where she, with her parents
and brother, were brought to be the slaves of Captain King.
"I was only four or five years old when we came to Captain King's big
house," said the old woman, brightening with pride in her ability to
recollect. Her manners bore the marks of culture and refinement, and her
speech was surprisingly void of the usual Negro dialect. She is an
example of the former slave who was educated along with the white
children in the family.
"There were eight or ten slaves in all," Esther continued. "We lived in
a house in the backyard of Captain King's Big House. My mamma was the
cook. Papa was a mechanic. He built houses and made tools and machinery.
Captain King gave me to the 'white lady;' that was Miss Susan, the
Captain's wife. Captain King was a fine man. He treated all of us just
like his own family. The 'white lady' taught us to be respectable and
truthful."
When asked if she had ever been punished for misbehavior the old woman
smiled and said: "Once the 'white lady' whipped me for playing with the
jailer's children. She had told me not to play with them because they
were not good company for me. She said that she wanted to raise me to be
good and truthful, and that the jailer's little white children told lies
and talked bad."
Esther remembers well the mobilization of gray-uniformed troops at the
courthouse which stood only a block from the King residence. "The town
was filled with soldiers for several days," she said. "They assembled
about the courthouse and had speakings. One day I passed there with my
papa and saw Abraham Lincoln hanging from a noose in the courthouse
square. Of course, it was only an effigy of Abraham Lincoln which was
used to show what the soldiers thought of him. Papa told me that the
soldiers shot the effigy full of bullet holes before they left town.
"Before Captain King left he brought a man with him from the courthouse
to value his property. The slaves were valued, too. I remember Captain
King lifting me high above his head and saying to the man: 'I wouldn't
take a thousand dollars for this little gem.'"
She paused a moment. The light in her eyes showed that she was reliving
the thrill of that childhood incident.
"Then Captain King left with the other soldiers. Papa stayed and took
care of the 'white lady' and the house. After a while my brother ran
away and joined the troops to fight for Captain King. He came back after
the war, but Captain King did not. Several years later I saw a man down
in south Georgia who told me that he belonged to Captain King's troops.
He said that he was standing near him when he was killed.
[Illustration: _Esther King Casey, Birmingham, Alabama_]
"After the proclamation the slaves were free. Most of them leased out to
plantation owners. I stayed with mamma and the 'white lady.'"
Mrs. King had taught the little slave girl to read and write, and when
schools were opened for the freed slaves she told the child's mother to
send her to school. Fees of fifty cents a month were charged, which Mrs.
King paid as long as the child remained with her. At eighteen years of
age the girl had acquired sufficient education to qualify to teach in
the public schools for Negroes. After three years of teaching she
married Jim Casey, an ex-slave, who took her to his "three-plow" farm in
south Georgia.
"No man ever lived who was finer than Jim," said the old woman. "My
daughter used to say that I loved him more than God, and that God was
jealous and took him away from me."
After her only daughter's death in 1919, Esther was brought to
Birmingham by her grandson who has kept her comfortably ever since. Her
hair is just turning gray, though she was born in 1856. The little briar
pipe, which she endeavors to conceal from strangers, is the only outward
evidence that she has anything in common with others of her generation.