*Interview with William Henry Towns*
--_Levi D. Shelby, Jr., Tuscumbia, Alabama_
_DIS WAS DAT LONG AGO_
"It's been so long sence, I don' 'member much," William Henry (Bill)
Towns said talking of slavery days. Towns was only seven when the Civil
War began and his memories are those of childhood, which he mixes with
reminiscences and opinions of the older slaves with whom he came in
contact immediately after the war. Towns knows the exact date of his
birth. He says:
"I was born in Tuscumbia, Alabama, December 7, 1854. My mother was name
Jane Smoots. She come from Baltimore, Maryland. My father's name was Joe
Towns, and he come from Huntsville, Alabama.
"I had a passel of brudders an' sisters; Charlie and Bob was my
brudders; Betty, Kate, Lula an' Nelie was my sisters. Dere wasn't but
two of us endurin' slavery. Dat was me an' Nelie; de rest was born atter
slavery. Me an' Nelie was Townses, the rest, Charlie, Kate, Lula, Bob
and Betty was Joneses. How dat come 'bout was dis away. Endurin' slavery
my father was sold to anudder slave owner. Atter de war my mother
married Frank Jones; den dese yuther chillun was born.
"It done been so long sence all of dis was I disremembers most 'bout it.
Anyway, the Big House was a two-story house; white like mos' houses
endurin' dat time. On the north side of the Big House set a great, big
barn, where all de stock an' stuff dat was raised was kep'. Off to de
southwes' of de barn an' wes' of de Big House set 'bout five or six log
houses. These house was built facin' a space of ground in de center of a
squa'e what de houses made. Anybody could stan' in his front do' an' see
in at the front of de yuther houses.
"Sometimes enduring' de week an' on Sunday, too, de people would git
together out in dis squa'e an' talk 'fore goin' to bed. The chillun what
was too young to work was always out in de front playin'. Jes' acrost
from our place was anudder wid de quarters built 'mos' de same as ourn
'ceptin' dat dey had a picket fence 'roun' de quarters to pervent 'em
from runnin' away. 'Course Mr. Young didn't have to worry 'bout his
han's runnin' away, cause he wan't a mean man like some of de slave
holders was. He never spoke harsh or whupped 'em, an' he didn't 'low
nobody else to do it neither.
"I remember one day a fellow come from acrost on anudder farm an' spoke
sumpin' 'bout Mr. Young bein' too easy wid his servants. He said, 'Them
darn niggers will think they is good as you iffen you keep up de rate
you goin' now, Young.' Mr. Young just up an' told him if he ever spoke
like dat again he'd call his bluff. Mr. Young told him de he didn't work
his people like dey was oxes.
"All of Mr. Young's hands liked him 'cause he didn't make 'em sleep on
corn shuck mattresses an' he didn't have dey meals cooked in a wash pot.
A lot of de yuther slaves didn't know what it was to eat meat, lessen it
was a holiday. Mr. Young 'lowed his people to eat just what he eat. I
hear my mother tell a tale 'bout a man what took a meat skin an' whipped
his chillun's mouth wid it to fool folks like dey had some meat for
dinner. Ole Caleb told one a lil' bit bigger'n dat, though. He said one
night him an' a feller was comin' from prayer meeting an' they runned
'crost a possum settin' in de root of a tree by de side of de road. He
say he stopped to git him an' dis yuther feller told him he wouldn't
bother wid him 'cause he wouldn't git none of him no how. Caleb ast him
why he said that. He said, ''Cause your ole master is gwine take him
jes' soon as you git home wid him.' Caleb told him dat Mr. Young wasn't
dat kin'er man. De yuther feller ho'ped Caleb to ketch dat possum, an'
he got a piece of him de nex' night when ever'body come in from de
fiel'. Caleb said de ol' feller enj'yed de meat so much dat he wished he
took him an' his family de 'hole possum.
"We didn't live so far from Big Spring Creek. 'Co'se, we didn't do no
fishin', 'cause we younguns had to 'tend gaps to keep de cattle off'n de
crops. De grownups had to go to de fiel'. Life was kin'er happy durin'
slavery 'cause we never knowed nothing 'bout any yuther sort of life or
freedom. All we knowed was work from one en' of de year to de yuther,
'ceptin' on holidays. Den we'd have to go to church or set around de
fire an' lis'en to de old folks tell stories. The grownups would go to a
dance or do sumpin' else for indertainment. Co'se us younguns got a heap
of pleasure outten dem fairy tales dat was tol' us by de older ones. I
know ma an' dem use to tell some of de awf'lest tales sometimes. I'd be
'fraid to go from one part of de house to de yuther widoutten somebody
wid me. Us younguns would had to play some sort of a game for
indertainment. Dere was a whole lot of games an' riddles to be played
dem days. It have been so long sence I played any of 'em I'se mos' near
disremembers de biggest part of 'em. I 'members a song or two an' a few
riddles what ol' Caleb use to tell us. De song goes sumpin' like dis:
Saturday night an' Sunday, too.
Had a yaller gal on my mind.
Monday mornin', break of day,
White folks had me gwine.
"De riddles was like dis;
Slick as a mole, black as a coal,
Got a great long tail like a thunder hole.
(Skillet)
Crooked as a rainbow, teeth lak a cat,
Guess all of your life but you can't guess dat.
(black berry bush)
Grows in de winter, dies in de spring,
Lives wid de root stickin' straight up.
(icicle)
"Dere was anudder song what Caleb use to sing. It goes like dis:
Whar you gwine buzzard? Whar you gwine crow?
Gwine down to de river to do jes' so.
"Dere was a whole lot more to dat song what I disremembers.
"Anudder song what comes to my min' is:
Hawk an' de buzzard went down to de law;
When de hawk got back he had a broken jaw.
Lady's pocketbook on de judge's bench
Haden' had no use for a pocketbook sence.
"Sometimes I visits wid ol' Mingo White an' me an' him talks over dem
days dat me an' him was boys. We gits to talkin' an' 'fore you knows it
ol' Mingo is cryin' lak a baby. 'Cordin' to what he says he is lucky ter
be a-livin'. Dis is one thing I never likes ter talk 'bout. When slavery
was goin' on it was all right for me 'cause I never had it hard, but it
jes' wan't right to treat human bein's dat way. If we hadn't a-had to
work an' slave for nothin' we might have somepin' to show for what we
did do, an' wouldn't have to live from pillar to pos' now.
[Illustration: _William Henry Towns, [TR: Tuscumbia?], Alabama_]
"Speakin' of clothin', everything that we wore back den was made by
han'. Many a night my ma use' to set an' spin wid a spindle. I have set
an' done the cardin' for her so she could git her tas' done. In de
summer we would wear un'erwear what was made outten cotton. In de winter
it was made outten flannel. De shoes was made of cowhide what was tanned
right dere on de place. Dem was de hardes' shoes I ever seen. Sometimes
dey'd wear out 'fore dey was any ways soft, an' den sometimes atter dey
was wore out you couldn't hardly ben' 'em. Some of de han's would go
bar'footed until de fall an' den wear shoes. Slippers wan't wore den. De
fust pair of slippers I ever 'members havin' was de ones what I bought
for my weddin'. Dey didn't cos' but a dollar an' six bits. My weddin'
suit didn't cos' but eight dollars, an' a straw hat to match it cos' six
bits.
"As I said afore, Massa Young an' ol' Mistis was mighty good folks on
'count of dey never whupped any of they han's. Iffen dere was one dat
would give trouble dey would git rid of him. De overseers had to be kin'
to de hands or else he was outten a job. De chillun was mighty nice,
too. Ever' time dey went to town or to de sto' dey would bring us
younguns some candy or somepin'. Joinin' our farm was a farm whar de
slaves fared lak dogs. Dey was always beatin' on some of dem.
"Ever'body worked hard enduring' dat time. Dat was all we thought we was
'spose' to do, but Abe Lincoln taught us better'n dat. Some say dat Abe
wan't intrusted so much in freein' de slaves as he was in savin' de
union. Don' make no diff'ence iffen he wan't intrusted in de black
folks, he sho' done a big thing by tryin' to save de union. Some of de
slaveholders would double de proportion of work so as to git to whip 'em
when night come. I heard my ma say after slavery that dey jes' whipped
de slaves so much to keep dem cowed down an' 'cause dey might have
fought for freedom much sooner'n it did come.
"Caleb come from N'Orleans, Louiseanner. He say dat many a day ship
loads of slaves was unloaded dere an' sold to de one offerin' de mos'
money for dem. Dey had big chains an' shackles on dem to keep 'em from
gittin' away. Sometime dey would have to go a long ways to git to de
farm. Dey would go in a wagon or on hoss back.
"Talk 'bout learnin' to read an' 'rite--why, iffen we so much as spoke
of learnin' to read an' 'rite we was scolded like de debil. Iffen we was
caught lookin' in a book we was treated same as iffen we had killed
somebody. A servant bett'nt be caught lookin' in a book; didn't make no
diff'ence if you wan't doin' nothin' but lookin' at de pictures.
"Speakin' of church; we went to de same church as de white folks did;
only thing was we had to go in de evenin' atter de white folks. De white
folks would go along an' read de Bible for de preacher, an' to keep dem
from talkin of things dat might help dem to git free. Dey would sing
songs like 'Steal Away,' 'Been Toilin' at the Hill So Long,' an'
'Old-Time Religion.'
"Ever' once in a while slaves would run away to de North. Mos' times dey
was caught an' brought back. Sometimes dey would git desp'rit an' would
kill demse'ves 'fore dey would stand to be brought back. One time dat I
heard of a slave that had 'scaped and when dey tried to ketch him he
jumped in de creek an' drown hisse'f. He was brought from over in
Geo'gia. He hadn't been in Alabama long 'fore him an' two more tried to
'scape; two of 'em was caught an' brought back but dis yuther one went
to de lan' of sweet dreams.
"After de day's work was done an' all had eat, de slaves had to go to
bed. Mos' slaves worked on Sat'day jes' lak dey did on Monday; that was
from kin' to caught, or from sun to sun. Mr. Young never worked his
slaves 'twell dark on Sat'day. He always let 'em quit 'roun' fo' 'clock.
We would spen' dis time washin' an' bathin' to git ready for church on
Sunday. Speakin' of holidays; de han's celebrated ever' holiday dat deir
white folks celebrated. Dere wan't much to do for indertainment,
'ceptin' what I'se already said. Ever' Christmas we'd go to de Big House
an' git our present, 'cause ol' Mistis always give us one.
"Slaves never got sick much, but when dey did dey got de bes'. Dere was
always a nurse on de farm, and when a slave got sick dey was righ' dere
to give dem treatments. Back in dose days dey used all sorts of roots
and yarbs for medicine. Peach tree leaves was one of de mos' of'en.
Sassafras was anudder what was used of'en; hit was used mostly in de
spring made in tea. Asafetida was anudder what was use to keep you from
havin' azma. Hit was wore 'round de neck in a lil bag. Prickler ash was
anudder what was tooken in de spring. Hit was 'spose ter clean de blood.
Some of de folks would use brass, copper an' dimes wid holes in 'em to
keep from havin' their rumertiz.
"I was seben years old when de war commence. I 'members Mrs. Young said
when de Yankees come dey was goin' to ast us iffen dey had been good to
us. She said dat dey was goin' to ast us all 'bout how much money dey
had; an' how many slaves what dey owned. She told us to say dey was po'
folks an' dat dey didn't have no money. I 'member my mother said dat she
hoped Mr. Young and dem to hide deir money som'ers in a well dat wan't
bein' used 'cause it gone dry. Dem Yankees sho' did clean up whar they
went along. Dey would ketch chickens by de bunches and kill 'em an' den
turn 'roun' an' make de ol' Mistis clean 'em an' cook 'em for dem. Dem
Yankees set fire to bales an' bales of cotton. Dey took de white folks
clo'se an' did away wid 'em. Sometimes dey would tear 'em up or give dem
to de slaves to wear. De war ended in sixty-five an' I was eleben years
ol' den.
"Jes' atter de war we was turned loose to go for ourse'f. What I mean by
dat, we was free. I didn't mean that we lef' Mr. Young's 'cause we
stayed wid him for de longest atter slavery was over.
"My fust work was in a blacksmith shop down on West Six Street. I worked
for fifty cents a day den until I learned de trade. Atter I worked at de
blacksmith shop for about two years I took up carpenter work. I served
apprentice for three years. I followed carpent'ing the res' of my life.
"I married Lizzie Anderson when I was twenty-one years ol'. She wan't
but seventeen years ol'. We didn't have no big weddin', we jes' had de
fambly dere. I raised ten chillun up until April de twenty fourth.
That's when William Henry died. My chilluns doin' pretty well in life.
Dere's two of my sons what's doctors; one is a carpenter. The other one
is Grand Orator of the Shriners. My gals is doin' fine, too. Three of
'em is been school teachers, one a beauty cult'ist an' de other one a
nurse. I feels sati'fied 'bout my chillun now. Dey seems to be able to
make a livin' for they se'ves pretty well.
"I thinks that Abe Lincoln was a mighty fine man even if he was tryin'
to save their union. I don't like to talk 'bout this that have done
happened. It done passed so I don't say much 'bout it, specially de
Presidents, 'cause it might cause a 'sturbance right now. All men means
well, but some of 'em ain't broadminded 'nough to do anythin' for nobody
but themse'fs. Any man that tries to help humanity is a good man."