*I*
*Personal interview with Joseph Holmes*
*Grand Avenue, Prichard, Alabama*
--_Ila B. Prine, Mobile, Alabama_
_DEY KEP' NIGGERS IN GOOD CONDITION TO SELL_
Standing in the middle of the road at Prichard, suburb of Mobile, and
gesticulating while talking to a small group of interested listeners an
old Negro man ended his talk to the small gathering and punctuated his
last sentence with a spat of tobacco.
"No'm," he continued after I had put in my appearance and asked him a
question, "I doesn't know whether I was a slave, but jus' de same I seed
Gen'l Grant's army when it went th'ough Virginny. Jus' as sho' as you is
standin' dar, lady, I seed dem mens all dressed in blue suits,
a-marching' side by side, gwine down de road pas' our place. It tuk 'em
three days to go by our house.
"An' I remembers when dem Yankees came to our ole Mistis' house an' take
a ladder an' clumb up to de roof an' tear de boards outter de ceilin' to
git dem big hams an' shoulders my white folks done had hid up dar. When
de Yankees find dat stuff dey give it all to de niggers. Den atter de
solgers lef' ole Miss called us to her an' tol' us we was free, but for
us to give back some of de meat an' things dat de Yankees done give us,
'ca'se she didn't have nothin' to eat 'roun' de place. 'Course we was
glad to do it, 'ca'se Mistis sho' was good to us.
"I remembers ebery Sunday mawnin' dat she'd make de older slaves bring
all de little niggers up to de big house, so she could read de Bible to
'em, and den she give us plenty of dem good biscuits and taters dat
Susanne cook for us. She'd say: 'Git 'roun' dere, Susanne, and he'p dem
little niggers' plates.' I really thought Mistis was a angel.
"Talkin' 'bout niggers bein' free. Ole Miss tol' us was free, but it was
ten or twelve years atter de surrender befo' I knowed whut she meant. I
was a big boy goin' to school befo' I had an understandin' as to what
she meant.
"Ole Miss taught de niggers how to read an' write an' some of 'em got to
be too good at it, 'ca'se dey learned how to write too many passes so's
de pattyrollers wouldn't cotch 'em, an' on dem occasions was de onlyes'
times dat I ever seed one of our niggers punished.
"Mistis never 'lowed no mistreatin' of de slaves, 'case dey was raisin'
slaves for de market, an' it wouldn't be good bizness to mistreat 'em.
Lor' Miss, my white folks was rich; dey had as many as five or six
hundred niggers; men, women an' chilluns. De plantation was big, but I
doesn't remember how many acres it was, but I does remember dat de
cabins was all built in rows, an' dere was streets laid out among de
cabins. De chimneys was built outten dirt an' sticks, an' you know up in
Virginny it got powerful cold, so when dey built de cabins dey th'owed
dirt up under 'em to keep de wind an' snow out.
"I was bawn in Henry County, Virginny, near Danville, an' I's been to
Vicksburg an' Petersburg a many a time wid my pappy to de wheat an'
'bacca market. Lor', honey, Virginny is de bes' place on earth for good
eaten' an' good white folks. If anybody tells you dat de white folks was
mean to dere niggers, dey neber come from Virginny, 'case us was too
near de free states, an' I done already tol' you dat dey raised niggers
to sell an' dey kep' 'em in good condition. In dose days white folks an'
black folks was black folks. Jus' lak Booker T. Washington was a riber
between de niggers of dis generation an' learnin'. He had all dat was
fine an' good, an' he give de bes' to his people iffen dey would take
it. Dat was de way wid de white folks den; dey didn't do no whuppin'.
"I's de onlyes' rat lef' in de pond, an' 'case I ain't hung in de smoke
house, folks thinks I's not as old as I say I is, but chile, I's been
here a long time. I 'members how black Sam useta preach to us, an' when
I growed up I useta think warnt nobody Christians cep'n us Babtists, but
I know better now, an' de longer I lives de mo' I realizes dat de
churches go 'way 'case dey leaves off de ordinances of God, although us
has a Bible an' mo' Christian readin' dan ever befo'.
"My mammy's name was Eliza Rowlets an' my pappy's was Joseph Holmes. My
pappy had de same name as de peoples dat owned him an' my gran'mammy
name was Lucy Holmes. Gran'mammy Holmes lived to be over a hundred years
old, an' she was de fust pusson I ever seed daid. In dem days it tuk
three days to bury a pusson, 'case dey dug de graves as deep as de
corpse was tall.
"Land sakes a-livin', us had great times, an' I forgot to tell you dat
us had home-made beds wid two sides nailed to de wall an' de mattresses
was made outen wheat straw.
"As for huntin' I done plenty of it an' one thing I got to git
forgiveness for was when I lef' Virginny, I lef' 'bout fifty or sixty
snares set to cotch rabbits an' birds.
"My mammy had eight chilluns an' we was raised in pairs. I had a sister
who come along wid me, an' iffen I jumped in de river she done it too.
An' iffen I go th'ough a briar patch, here she come along too.
"'Bout de fruit; it makes my mouth water to think about dem cheese
apples, dat was yaller lak gold, an' dose Abraham apples, an' de cherry
tree as big as dese oaks here. I's eaten many a big sugar and sweetheart
cherry. But dere was another kind called de Gorilla dat growed as big as
de yaller plums down dis way. Now let me tell you somp'n 'bout Virginny;
'dey had dere laws 'bout drink. Dey had de bes' peach an' cherry brandy
an' mos' any kin' you eber heared of, but dey didn't 'low you to make
drink outten anything you could make bread wid; sich as corn or rye. Us
had our brandy same as you would coffee, 'case it was cold, an' some
mawnin's my pappy would git de brandy out an' my mammy would putt a
little water an' sugar wid it an' gib it to us chilluns. Us neber
thought nothin' 'bout drinkin'. I kinda believes lak dat ole infidel
Ingersoll who said dat anything dat was a custom was dere religion.
"Now you axed about hog-killin' time? Dat was de time of times. For
weeks de mens would haul wood an' big rocks, an' pile 'em together as
high as dis house, an' den have several piles lak dat 'roun' a big hole
in de groun' what had been filled wid water. Den jus' a little atter
midnight, de boss would blow de ole hawn, an' all de mens would git up
an' git in dem pig pens. Den dey would sot dat pile of wood on fire an'
den start knockin' dem hogs in de haid. Us neber shot a hog lak us does
now; us always used an axe to kill 'em wid. Atter knockin' de hog in de
haid, dey would tie a rope on his leg an' atter de water got to de right
heat, fum dose red-hot rocks de hog would be throwed in an' drug aroun'
a while, den taken out an' cleaned. Atter he was cleaned he was cut up
into sections an' hung up in de smoke house. Lawsie, lady, dey don't
cure meat dese days; dey jus' uses some kind of liquid to brush over it.
We useta have sho' 'nuff meat.
"Den come cawnshuckin' time. My goodness, I would jus' love to be dar
now. De cawn would be piled up high an' one man would git on dat pile.
It was usually a kinda nigger foreman who could sing an' git de work
outten de niggers. Dis fo'man would sing a verse somp'n lak dis:
Polk and Clay went to war,
Polk come back wid a broken jaw.
Den all de niggers would sing back at him wid a kinda shoutin' sound.
Near 'bout all de times de fo'man made up his own songs, by pickin' dem
outen dat shuckin'! It war de jug dat dey brung aroun' eve'y hour. Dat's
de onlyes' time de slaves really got drunk.
"In dem ole days I went to plenty of dances an' candy pullin's durin' de
Yule season, but I doesn't do dat no mo'. I's a preacher an' when I fus'
lef' Virginny, I come to Georgy an' stayed dar twenty years whar I
kicked up plenty of dus'. I even taught school dar. Den I come to
Alabamy an' lived in Evergreen for 'bout twenty mo' years. Since I been
in Mobile I's worked for sich men as ole Simon, Damrich, an' Van
Antwerp, an' all dere chilluns has been in dese here arms of mine. I's
been a square citizen an' dere hasn't been a time dat I is had to call
on nobody but Uncle Sam when ole man 'pression cotched me. But thank de
Lawd I is still able to git about an' have all my senses 'cep' my
eye-sight, an' it's jus' a little po'ly. I is got all my teeths 'cep'
one, an' my mammy was always proud of my hair. See how silky an' fine it
is? Not quite white, dough. I hope I lives long enough for it to turn
white as snow. I think St. Peter will lak it better dat way."
*II*
*Personal interview with Joseph Holmes*
*Grand Avenue, Prichard, Alabama*
--_Ila B. Prine, Mobile, Alabama_
_TWELVE YEARS 'TWELL I UNDERSTOOD SURRENDER_
In the middle of the road near Prichard, an incorporated suburb of
Mobile, stood an aged Negro man, gesticulating as he told a tale of
other days to a small audience. Tall, straight, with gray hair and
mustache, he was a picturesque figure. He does not know whether he was
born in slavery, he said, but he knows his age to be about eighty-one.
"I doesn't know whether I was a slave, but jes' de same I seed Gineral
Grant's army when hit went th'ough Virginny," he said "Jes' as sho' as
yo' is standin' dar, lady, I seed him, and I seed dem men all dressed in
dem blue suits a-marchin' side by side, gwine down de road pas' our
place. Hit tuk dem three days tuh git pas' our house.
"An' does I 'member when dem Yankees come tuh Ol' Mistiss house an' tuk
a ladder an' clim' up tuh de roof an' tear de boards outta de ceilin'
tuh git dem big hams an' shoulders dey had hid up dar? I sho' does. De
women folks makes de slaves hide wid de meat; an' when dem Yankees fin'
dat stuff dey jes' gib hit all tuh de niggers, an' I 'members too, how
Ol' Miss calls us all to her atter dey lef' an' tole us dat us was free,
but she tole us dat us hab tuh gib back ob de meat an' 'serves 'case she
didn't hab a bit tuh eat. 'Cose we was glad tuh do hit 'case Ol' Miss
sho' was good tuh her slaves.
"I 'members ebery Sunday mawnin' dat she made de older slaves bring all
de little niggers up to her big white, two-story house, so she could
read de Bible to us, an' den she gib us plenty dem good biscuits an'
'taters dat she had de cook, Susanne, cook for us. She'd say 'Git 'roun'
dere, Susanne, an' he'p dem li'l niggers plates,' I, railly thought Ol'
Miss was an angel.
"Talkin 'bout niggers bein' freed, Ol' Miss tole us us was free, but hit
was ten or twelve years atter de Surrender, befo' I knowed whut she was
talkin' 'bout. I was a big boy goin' to school befo' I had any
understanin' as tuh whut she meant.
"Ol' Miss taught de niggers how to read an' write, an' some ob dem got
to be too 'ficient wid de writin', 'case dey larn how tuh write too many
passes so de pattyrollers wudn't git dem. Dat was de onliest time I
ebber knowed Ol' Miss tuh hab de slaves punished.
"Ol' Miss nebber 'lowed no mistreatin' de slaves, case dey was raisin'
slaves for de market, an' hit wouldn't be good business to mistreat 'em.
Lor' mah white folks was rich; dey had as many as five or six hundred
niggers, men, women and chillun. De plantation was big but I don't
'member how many acres I does 'member de cabins was all built in rows,
an' streets was laid out 'tween de cabins. De chimbeys was built outta
dirt an' sticks, an' sticks, an' yo' know up in Virginny hit got
turrible cold an' de snow would pile up, so when de cabins was built, de
men th'owed dirt up under de house to keep de snow an' cold out. Yo'
might think dat dirt would wash out from under de house, but hit didn't.
Hit jes' made dem so warm an' com'fo'ble we did'nt suffer.
"Dat was de way wid de white folks den; dey didn't do no whippin' an'
mistreatin' ob de slaves. Oh, once in a while Ol' Miss might slap de
cook's face an' tell her tuh bear down 'roun' dere, an' if she wanted de
servin' boys to hurry, she would say 'Cutch hit,' meanin' fer dem to cut
some steps an' git 'bout in a hurry.
"I's de ol'est rat in de pon', an' 'case I ain't hung in de smokehouse,
folks think I's not as ol' as I says I is, but chile, I's been heah. I
'members how Sam useta to preach to us, when we was at Ol' Miss's place,
an' when I growed up, I 'members how I useta think nobody was a
Christian 'ceptin' us Baptists, but I knows better now. An' de longer I
lib de mo' I realize dat de chu'ches go away 'case dey leabes off de
ordinances ob God, 'tho us has got de Bible an' mo' Christian
litterchoor dan eber befo'.
"My ma's name was 'Liza Rowlets, an' mah daddy's name was Joseph Holmes.
My daddy had de same name as de people whut owned him, an' my gran'ma's
name was Lucy Holmes. Gran'ma Lucy libed to be a hundred yeahs old, an'
she was de fust pusson I ebber seed daid. Hit tuk three days tuh bu'y a
pusson den, 'case dey dug de graves as deep as yo' is tall, which means
mo' than five feet deep. Lor' sakes a-livin' us had great times. I
forgot tuh tell yo' dat us had home-made beds wid two sides nailed tuh
de wall, an' de mattresses was made outta wheat straw. Dat's 'minds me
dat dere wa'n't no pore cattle in dem times, 'case yo' could go whar dey
thresh de wheat an' git all de straw yo' wanted an' feed de dry cattle
on hit. An' you wouldn't believe de fruit us did hab! Yo don't nebber
see de like down dis way. Sich as apples, cherries, quinces, peaches an'
pears.
"As fer huntin', I done plenty of it, an' one thing I got to git
forgiveness fer was when I lef' Virginny, I lef' 'bout sixty or seventy
snares set to ketch rabbits an' birds.
"My ma had eight chillun an' we was raised in pairs. I had a sister who
come along wid me, an' if I jumped in de ribber tuh swim, she did hit
too; if I clum' a tree, or went th'ough a briar patch, she done hit
right behin' me. Ma wanted to know why her clo's was so tore up, an'
when dey was pretty, we'd make hit right wid Ma by havin' a rabbit or
coon wid us, an' sometimes a mud turtle. An' as fer 'possums an' coons,
us ketch dem in plenty.
"'Bout de fruit, hit makes mah mouf watah tuh think 'bout dem cheese
apples dat was yaller lac' gold, an' dose Abraham apples de lack of
which ain't now to be had. An' dose cherry trees as big as dese oaks,
wid long limbs an' big sugar an' sweetheart, an' black heart cherries.
Den dere was annudder kin' of cherry called de gorilla, dat was roun'
an' growed as big as de yaller plums down dis way.
"Now, let me tell yo' sumpin' 'bout Virginny. Hit had hits own law 'bout
drink. Dey made de bes' peach an' cherry brandy an' mos' any kin' yo'
ebber heerd ob, 'ceptin' dey didn't 'low yo' to make drink out ob
anythin' you could make into bread. Now yo' understan's, sich as corn
and rye.
"Us had our brandy same as yo' would coffee, 'case hit was cold an' some
mawnin's us would git up an' de snow would be halfway up de do', an' de
men would hab to ditch hit out, so us could git out of de house. On dem
rail cold mawnin's my daddy would git de brandy out an' my ma wud put a
li'l water an' sugar wid hit an gib to us chillun. An' den she'd take
some in her mouf' an' put hit in de baby's mouf an' hit wud open hits
eyes an' stamp hits foot rail peart lack.
"Us nebber thought nothin' of drinkin'. I kinda believes lack dat ol'
infidel, Ingersoll, who said dat anythin' dat was de custom, was de
religion.
"Folks was a heap kinder-hearted den dey is now, 'case dey kep' big dogs
to hunt up people los' in de snow. Dey all seemed mo' happy 'case dey
was all busy. At night instid of wastin' dey time, dey wud go tuh de big
house an' spin an' weave an' make clo's.
"I kin hyar dat ol' loom hummin' now, an' see great cards ob cloth
comin' out, an' dem was clo's den dat was made from hit. Hit tuck fire
tuh git dem offen' yo' dey was so strong. I doesn't 'member whut dey
used fer dye, but I knows dey used copperas as sizin' to hol' de colors.
Some of de cloth was dyed red, blue an' black. I jes' can't 'member
'bout de dye, but dey used copperas. 'Dat was the qualification of de
intelligence ob de primitive age', in usin' dat copperas. Dey not only
made our clo's, but also made out hats. Of co'se dey wa'n't very hatty,
but was mo' cappy. Dey made 'em wid tabs ober de ears, an' to tie under
de chin, an' was dey warm, I'll say!
"Now, when yo' axes 'bout hawg killin' time, dat was de time! Fer weeks
de men would haul wood and big rocks, an' pile hit all together as high
as dat house; den hab sev'ral piles like dese 'roun' a big hole in de
groun' whut had been filled wid watah. Den jes' a li'l atter mid-night
de boss would blow de ol' horn, an' all de men would git up an' git in
dem hog pens. Den dey would set dat pile of wood on fire, an' den start
knockin' dem hawgs in de haid. Us nebber shot a hawg like dey does now.
Us allus used an ax to kill 'em wid.
"Atter knockin' de hawg in de haid, dey would tie a rope on hits leg, an
atter de water got to de right heat from dose red hot rocks whut had
been pushed out ob dat pile ob nu'in wood into de watah, dey wud th'ow
de hog in an' drag hit aroun' awhile, an' take him out an' hab him clean
in 'bout three pair o' minutes. Atter he was clean dey hung him up, an'
den later cut him up an' hung him in de smoke house, an' smoke him wid
great oak logs. Huh, dey don't cu'ah meat now, dey jes' use sum kinda
brush an' liquid, but dey don't hab meat lack us did.
"Den come co'shuckin' time. Mah goodness, I jes' would love to be dere
now. De co'n would be piled up high an' one man would git on dat pile.
Hit usually was one who was kinda niggah fo'man dat could sing an' get
de wuck out of de odder niggers. Dis fo'man would sing a verse somethin'
lack dis:
Polk an' Clay went to War,
An' Polk come back wid a broken jar.
"Den all de niggers would sing back to him, an' hallo, a kinder shoutin'
soun'. Ginerally dis fo'man made up his songs by pickin' dem up from
whut he had heard white folks tell of wars. But Miss yo' know whut was
de motor powah of dat co'n shuckin'? Hit was de ol' jug dat was brung
'roun' ebery hour. Dat's de onliest time any ob de slaves railly got
drunk.
"I wish I could 'member dose ol' songs, but all dat hallo done lef' me,
'case de onliest singin' I hears now is de good ol' sisters singin' an'
sayin' 'Amen.'
"In days gone by I went to plenty of dances an' candy pullin's but I
doesn't do dat any mo'. I's a preacher, an' when I fu'st lef' Virginny I
come to Georgia an' stayed dere twenty yeahs, an' I kicked up a plenty
of dust in Georgia. I eben taught school an' built a plenty of chu'ches
dere. Den I come on to Alabammy, an' libed in Evergreen fo' about twenty
mo' yeahs, an' I built a two-story brick chu'ch dere. Since I's been in
Mobile I's wu'ked by dat Bienville Squah for twenty-eight years, for
sich men as ol' man Simon, Damrich, an' Van Antwerp, an' all dere
chillun has been in dese arms. I's been a squah citizen an' dere hasn't
been but one time in mah life I's had to call on anybody, an' dat was
when I had tuh call on Uncle Sam when ol' man Depression got me. But
thank God I's still able to be 'bout an' have all my faculties, 'ceptin'
my eyesight is a li'l porely. I still has all mah teeth, 'ceptin' one,
an' my ma allus tuck pride in mah haih, yo' see how fine an' silky hit
is, an' hit ain't snow white yit. Dere is one thing to be thankful fer.
Dat is 'case I's so near home."