before de slav'ry war. He was too old to fight in dat one, or I spect
he'd got another title, lak Gen'ral or somethin'. He an' Miss Julia--dat
was his wife--was mighty good to us an' so was Marse Tom and Marse Ben,
an' Miss Maria an' all. When de Cunel fust come to Mississippi he bought
a plantation in de prairies an' lived dere for a while. But later he
'cided to build him a house in town so he got my pa to he'p him build it
an' it was one of de purtiest houses in Aberdeen. It look jes lak it
allus did to me now. Co'se dey is worked on it several times since den,
but dey ain't changed it at all.
"My mammy did de cookin' for de white folks dere. Dey all thought a lot
of her. I never knowed much what slav'ry was 'bout, to tell de truf. De
folks never treated us wrong an' chullun in dem days didn' get to run
aroun' lak dey do today an' we didn' get to hear no gossip 'bout de
other niggers. Since we didn' live in no quarters we didn' hear nothin.
Our folks never said nothin' 'cause dey was very well satisfied lak dey
was. We never hear of no whuppin's, or runaways either, 'til afte' de
War an' when we got older.
"I 'member de War tho'. Marse Tom, he went fust, wid de Van Dorns. He
was made a capt'in or somethin' 'cause he was so brave. He fought long
wid de fust an' was one of de fust to get hit. Dey brung his body all de
way from Richmond, or Virginny, I fergit which, and lawzy, if de Cunel
an' de Miss didn' take on somethin' awful. Dey sho' loved dat boy an'
so did all of de niggers. Afte' dey buried him dey took his sword an'
hung it on de wall of de parlor. I reckin it still dar.
"Marse Ben went afte' dat. He was jes old 'nough to go but he went an'
fought jes de same. He come back when de war was over an' dey was sho'
some rejoicin'.
"Time wa'nt much diffrunt den dan it was 'fo de War. We stayed on wid
our folks for a long time. Den my pa started gettin' a li'l work here
an' dar an' purty soon he got all his chullun started out purty well. We
all went to de colored school what dey had down whar de railroad
crossin' is now, an' dat was whar I l'arned to read an' write. I didn'
marry for a good while an' den I went to work on de I.C. Railroad. I was
fust a coal heaver an' den a coach porter. I was faithful to my job an'
made good money an' soon built me a house of my own whar I raised my
family. I sent all my chullun to school an' dey is doin' well. My wife
worked right 'long wid me. She died 'bout two years ago.
"I'se thankful I ain't got no sad mem'ries 'bout slav'ry times an' dat I
an' my folks is done as well as dey have. T'is de work of de Lawd."
Wayne Holliday, who lived in slavery times, and whose father was a
slave, is 84 years old, a dried-up looking Negro of light tan color,
approximately 5 feet three inches high and weighing about 130 pounds, he
is most active and appears much younger than he really is. He is
slightly bent; his kinky hair is intermingled white and gray; and his
broad mouth boasts only one visible tooth, a particularly large one in
the extreme center of his lower gum.
Wayne has the manner of a Negro of the old South and depicts, in his
small way, the gallantry of an age gone by.
Prince Johnson, Ex-slave, Coahoma County
FEC
Mrs. Carrie Campbell
Rewrite, Pauline Loveless
Edited, Clara E. Stokes
PRINCE JOHNSON
Clarksdale, Mississippi
"Yes mam, I sho' can tell you all 'bout it 'cause I was dere when it all
happened. My gran'pa, Peter, gran'ma, Millie, my pa, John, an' my ma,
Frances, all come from Alabama to Yazoo County to live in de Love
fam'ly. Dey names was Dennis when day come, but, after de custom o' dem
days, dey took de name of Love from dey new owner. Me an' all o' my
brothers an' sisters was born right dere. Dey was eleven head o' us. I
was de oldes'. Den come Harry, John, William, Henry, Phillis, Polly,
Nellie, Virginny, Millie, an' de baby, Ella.
"Us all lived in de quarters an' de beds was home made. Dey had wooden
legs wid canvas stretched 'crost 'em. I can't 'member so much 'bout de
quarters 'cause 'bout dat time de young miss married Colonel Johnson an'
moved to dis place in Carroll County. She carried wid her over one
hund'ed head o' darkies.
"Den us names was changed from Love to Johnson. My new marster was sure
a fine gent'man. He lived in a big two-story white house dat had big
white posts in front. De flowers all' roun' it jus' set it off.
"Marster took me for de house boy. Den I sho' carried my head high.
He'd say to me, 'Prince does you know who you is named for?' An' I'd say
to him, 'Yes sir. Prince Albert.' An' den he'd say to me, 'Well, always
carry yo'se'f lak he did.' To dis good day I holds myse'f lak Marster
said.
"On certain days o' de week one o' de old men on de place took us house
servants to de fiel' to learn us to work. Us was brought up to know how
to do anything dat come to han'. Marster would let us work at odd times
for outsiders an' us could use de money for anything us pleased. My
gran'ma sol' 'nough corn to buy her two feather beds.
"Us always had plenty t'eat. De old folks done de cookin' for all de
fiel' han's, 'cept on Sund'y when ever' fam'ly cooked for dey ownse'fs.
Old Mis' 'ud come over ever' Sund'y mornin' wid sugar an' white flour.
Us 'ud mos' ingen'ally have fish, rabbits, 'possums, or coons. Lord,
chil'! Dem 'possums was good eatin'. I can tas' 'em now.
"Folks dese days don't know nothin' 'bout good eatin'. My marster had a
great big garden for ever'body an' I aint never seen such 'taters as
growed in dat garden. Dey was so sweet de sugar 'ud bus' right th'ough
de peelin' when you roasted 'em in de ashes.
"Old Aunt Emily cooked for all de chillun on de place. Ha'f a hour by de
sun, dey was all called in to supper. Dey had pot likker an' ash cake
an' such things as would make 'em grow.
"Chillun den didn' know nothin' 'bout all de fancy ailments what chillun
have now. Dey run an' played all day in dey shirt tails in de summer
time. When winter come dey had good warm clo'es[FN: clothes] same as us
older ones.
"One day Marster's chillun an' de cullud chillun slipped off to de
orchard. Dey was jus' a-eatin' green apples fas' as dey could when 'long
come de master, hisse'f. He lined 'em all up, black an' white alike, an'
cut a keen switch. Twant a one in dat line dat didn' git a few licks.
Den he called de old doctor woman an' made 'er give 'em ever' one a dose
o' medicine. Dey didn' a one of' em git sick.
"Marster an' Old Mis' had five chillun. Dey is all dead an' gone now,
an' I's still here. One o' his sons was a Supreme Judge 'fore he died.
"My folks was sho' quality. Marster bought all de little places 'roun'
us so he wouldn' have no po' white trash neighbors. Yes sir! He owned
'bout thirty-five hund'ed acres an' at leas' a hund'ed an' fifty slaves.
"Ever' mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock us could hear dat horn blow for us to
git up an' go to de fiel'. Us always quit work 'fore de sun went down
an' never worked at night. De overseer was a white man. His name was
Josh Neighbors, but de driver was a cullud man, 'Old Man Henry.' He
wasn't 'lowed to mistreat noboby. If he got too uppity dey'd call his
han', right now. De rule was, if a Nigger wouldn' work he mus' be sol'.
'Nother rule on dat place was dat if a man got dissati'fied, he was to
go to de marster an' ask him to put 'im in his pocket.' Dat meant he
wanted to be sol' an' de money he brought put in de marster's pocket. I
aint never known o' but two askin' to be 'put in de pocket.' Both of
'em was sol'.
"Dey had jails in dem days, but dey was built for white folks. No cullud
person was ever put in one of 'em 'til after de war. Us didn' know
nothin' 'bout dem things.
"Course, Old Mis' knowed 'bout 'em, 'cause she knowed ever'thing. I
recollec' she tol' me one day dat she had learnin' in five diffe'ent
languages.
"None o' us didn' have no learnin' atall. Dat is us didn' have no book
learnin'. Twant no teachers or anything lak dat, but us sho' was taught
to be Christians. Ever'thing on dat place was a blue stockin'
Presbyterian. When Sund'y come us dressed all clean an' nice an' went to
church. Us went to de white folks' church an' set in de gal'ry.
"Us had a fine preacher. His name was Gober. He could sho' give out de
words o' wisdom. Us didn' have big baptisins lak was had on a heap o'
places, 'cause Presbyterians don't go down under de water lak de Baptis'
do. If one o' de slaves died he was sho' give a gran' Christian fun'al.
All o' us mourners was on han'. Services was conducted by de white
preacher.
"Old Mis' wouldn' stan' for no such things as voodoo an' ha'nts. When
she 'spected[FN: inspected] us once a week, you better not have no charm
'roun' yo' neck, neither. She wouldn' even 'low[FN: allow] us wear a bag
o' asfittidy[FN: asafetida]. Mos' folks b'lieved dat would keep off
sickness. She called such as dat superstition. She say us was 'lightened
Christian Presbyterians, an' as such us mus' conduc' ourse'fs.
"Nobody worked after dinner on Satu'd'y. Us took dat time to scrub up
an' clean de houses so as to be ready for 'spection Sund'y mornin'. Some
Satu'd'y nights us had dances. De same old fiddler played for us dat
played for de white folks. An' he sho' could play. When he got dat old
fiddle out you couldn' keep yo' foots still.
"Christ'mus was de time o' all times on dat old plantation. Dey don't
have no such as dat now. Ever' chil' brought a stockin' up to de Big
House to be filled. Dey all wanted one o' de mistis' stockin's, 'cause
now she weighed nigh on to three hund'ed pounds. Candy an' presents was
put in piles for ever' one. When dey names was called dey walked up an'
got it. Us didn' work on New Year's Day. Us could go to town or anywhere
us wanted to.
"De mos' fun was de corn shuckin'. Dey was two captains an' each one
picked de ones he wanted on his side. Den de shuckin' started. You can't
make mention o' nothin good dat us didn' have t'eat after de shuckin'. I
still studies' bout dem days now.
"Dey was big parties at de white folks' house, me, all dressed up wid
taller[FN: tallow] on my face to make it shine, a-servin' de gues'es[FN:
guests].
"One time, jus' when ever'thing was a-goin' fine, a sad thing happened.
My young mistis, de one named for her ma, ups an' runs off wid de son o'
de Irish ditch digger an' marries 'im. She wouldn' a-done it if dey'd
a-let 'r marry de man she wanted. Dey didn' think he was good 'nough for
her. So jus' to spite' em, she married de ditch digger's son.
"Old Mis' wouldn' have nothin' more to do wid 'er, same as if she warnt
her own chil'. But I'd go over to see 'er an' carry milk an' things out
o' de garden.
"It was pitiful to see my little miss poor. When I couldn' stan' it no
longer I walks right up to Old Mis' an' I says, 'Old Mis', does you know
Miss Farrell aint got no cow.' She jus' act lak she aint hear'd me, an'
put her lips together dat tight. I couldn' do nothin' but walk off an'
leave her. Pretty soon she called, 'Prince!' I says, 'Yes mam.' She
says, 'Seein' you is so concerned 'bout Miss Farrell not havin' no cow,
you better take one to 'er.' I foun' de rope an' carried de bes' cow in
de lot to Miss Farrell.
"Shortly after dat I lef' wid Old Marster to go to North Carolina. Jus'
'fore de war come on, my marster called me to' im an' tol' me he was
a-goin' to take me to North Carolina to his brother for safe keepin'.
Right den I knowed somethin' was wrong. I was a-wishin' from de bottom
o' my heart dat de Yankees 'ud stay out o' us business an' not git us
all 'sturbed in de min'.
"Things went on at his brother's place 'bout lak dey done at home. I
stayed dere all four years o' de war. I couldn' leave 'cause de men
folks all went to de war an' I had to stay an' pertec' de women folks.
"De day peace was declared wagon loads o' people rode all th'ough de
place a-tellin' us 'bout bein' free. De old Colonel was killed in battle
an' his wife had died. De young marster called us in an' said it was all
true, dat us was free as he was, an' us could leave whenever us got
ready. He said his money warnt no good anymore an' he dida' have no
other to pay us wid.
"I can't recollec' if he got new money an' paid us or not, but I do
'member ever' las' one o' us stayed.
"I never lef' dat place' til my young marster, Mr. Jim Johnson, de one
dat was de Supreme Judge, come for me. He was a-livin' in South Carolina
den. He took us all home wid 'im. Us got dere in time to vote for
Gov'nor Wade Hamilton. Us put 'im in office, too. De firs' thing I done
was join de Democrat Club an' hoped[FN: helped] 'em run all o' de
scalawags away from de place. My young marster had always tol' me to
live for my country an' had seen 'nought of dat war to know jus' what
was a-goin' on.
"I'se seen many a patrol in my lifetime, but dey dassent come on us
place. Now de Kloo Kluxes[FN: Ku Kluxes] was diff'ent. I rid[FN: rode]
wid' em many a time. 'Twas de only way in dem days to keep order.
"When I was 'bout twenty-two year old, I married Clara Breaden. I had
two chilluns by her, Diana an' Davis. My secon' wife's name was Annie
Bet Woods. I had six chillun by her: Mary, Ella, John D., Claud William,
an' Prince, Jr. Three boys an' two gals is still livin'. I lives wid my
daughter, Claud, what is farmin' a place 'bout five miles from
Clarksdale. I has' bout fifteen head o' gran'chillun an' ever' las' one
of 'em's farmers.
"Things is all peaceful now, but de worl' was sho' stirred up when
Abraham Lincoln was 'lected. I 'member well when dey killed 'im. Us had
a song' bout 'im dat went lak dis:
'Jefferson Davis rode de milk white steed,
Lincoln rode de mule.
Jeff Davis was a mighty fine man,
An' Lincoln was a fool.'
"One o' de little gals was a-singin' dat song one day an' she mixed dem
names up. She had it dat Marse Davis was de fool. I'se laughed 'bout dat
many a time. When Mistis finished wid' er she had sho' broke her from
suckin' eggs.
"I knows all 'bout what slave uprisin's is, but never in my life has I
seen anything lak dat. Never! Never! Where I was brought up de white man
knowed his place an' de Nigger knowed his'n[FN: his]. Both of' em stayed
in dey place. We aint never had no lynchin's, neither.
"I know all 'bout Booker T. Washington. He come to de state o'
Mississippi once an' hel' a meetin' in Jackson. He made a gran' talk. He
made mention 'bout puttin' money in de bank. Lots o' darkies made
'membrance o' dat an' done it. He tol' us de firs' thing us had to learn
was to work an' dat all de schoolin' in de worl' wouldn' mean nothin' if
us didn' have no mother wit[FN: energy & common sense]. It's a pity us
aint got more folks lak him to guide us now dat us aint got no marster
an' mistis to learn us.
"I's a Nigger what has been prosperous. I made a-plenty cotton an' I
teached my chillun to be good blue stockin' Presbyterians. All 'roun' de
country I was knowed an' ever'body b'lieved in me.
"Maybe things is better lak dey is today. Mos' folks says so anyway. But
if Old Marster were a-livin' I'd be better off. I know dat to be so.
"I can hear 'im say to me new, 'Prince Albert, who is you named for?
Well den hol' yo' head high so folks can see you is quality.'"
Mississippi Federal Writers
Slave Autobiographies
[HAMP KENNEDY
Mahned, Mississippi]
Uncle Hamp Kennedy, a farmer, 78 years old, weighs about 135 pounds, and
is about 5 feet 9 inches high. His head is bald with a little gray fuzz
over his ears and growing low toward the nape of his neck. He does not
wear spectacles nor smoke a pipe. His face is clean shaven.
Physically active, he does not use a crutch or cane and his hearing,
eyesight, and mind appear alert. The old Negro cannot read or write, but
he has a remarkable memory. He seems very happy in his little cabin
where he and his wife live alone, and his eyes beam with interest when
he remembers and discusses slavery times.
"I was jes a little nigger when de War broke out--'bout fo' years ol',
my white folks say. I had a sister an' three brudders. My mammy an'
pappy was Mary Kennedy an' Lon Kennedy. My mammy was Mary Denham befo'
she mar'ied. I was born an' raised at Mahned, Mississippi. Old Miss Bill
Griffin was my missus.
"De Yankees sho' come to our house--yes sir, dey did. De fust time dey
kotched our hogs an' cut off de hind part an' take hit wid' em. De front
part dey lef' in de fiel'. Dey carries corn in de saddle bags an'
throwed hit out to de chickens. Den when de chickens come up to eat dey
kotched 'em by de head an' wring hit off an' take all de chickens wid
'em.
"Our white folks buried all dey silver in de groun' an' hid dey hosses
in de deep gullies near de plantation. Even dey clo'es an' meat dey
hide, an' de soljers didn' find nothin' 'cepin' de hosses, an' dey lef'
dey tired ones an' tuk our fresh ones wid' em. Dey burned de fiel's an'
orchards so our white folks couldn' he'p feed our soljers none.
"One time I 'member when Aunt Charity an' Winnie McInnis, two niggers on
our plantation, tried to swim some of our hosses cross de riber to save
'em frum de soljers an' dey rode 'cross in a little boat. Well, when de
hosses got in de middle of de water, up comes a' gator[FN: alligator],
grabs one hoss by de ear, an' we ain't neber seed him no mo'.
"When niggers run 'way frum de plantation dey was whupped, but dey had
to go to da sheriff to be whupped. De sheriff, he would tie de nigger to
a tree an' whup him till de blood run out.
"'Bout de only recr'ation us niggers had in dem days was candy pullin's.
We all met at one house an' tol' ghost stories, sung plantation songs,
an' danced de clog while de candy was cookin'. Dem was de good old days.
Dey don't do dem things no mo'.
"When a nigger died, we had a wake an' dat was diffrunt too frum whut
'tis today. Dey neber lef' a dead nigger 'lone in de house, but all de
neighbors was dere an' hoped[FN: helped]. Dey turned de mirrors to de
wall 'cause dey say once a long time ago, a nigger died an' three days
afte'wards his people looked in a mirror an' dere dey see da dead nigger
plain as day in de mirror.
"At da wake we clapped our han's an' kep' time wid our feet--_Walking
Egypt_, dey calls hit--an' we chant an' hum all night 'till de nigger
was _funeralized_.
"If we heerd a little old shiverin' owl[FN: screech owl] we'd th'ow salt
in de fire an' th'ow a broom 'cross de do' fer folks say dat 'twas a
sign of bad luck, an' a charm had to be worked fas' to keep sumpin'
terrible frum happenin', an' if a _big owl_ hollered, we wasn't 'lowed
to say one word.
"Fire was 'bout de hardes' thing fer us to keep. Dere wa'nt no matches
in dem days, an' we toted fire frum one plantation to 'nother when hit
burned out. We put live coals in pans or buckets an' toted it home.
"Sometimes we put heavy waddin' in a old gun an' shot hit out into a
brush heap an' then blowed the sparks' til de fire blazed. Ever'body had
flint rocks too, but few niggers could work 'em an' de ones dat could
allus had dat job to do.
"My gran'mammy come frum South Ca'lina an' libed fust at New Augusta,
Mississippi. She used to pick big Catawba leaves an' roll her dough in
'em an' bake hit in a log heap, pilin' ashes over hit. Some called hit
ash cakes an' hit sho' was good. Nothin' lak hit dese days--no sir.
"We had plen'y to eat--smoke sausage, beef, home made lard, an'--yes
sir, possum when we wanted hit.
"We didn' git any pay fer our work but we had plen'y to eat an' clo'es
to wear, our clo'es was coarse but good. Most of 'em was wove on de
looms an' our socks an' stockings was knitted by de wimmin. De white
folks though, dey wear linen an' fine silk clo'es fer de big times. We
made blankets--coverlets, too.
"We had 'bout 60 slaves on our place, an' if a nigger man on one
plantation fall in love wid a slave girl on 'nother place, dey jus' come
to her plantation an' jump ober de broom an' den dey is mar'ied. De
slabes never had preachers lak dey do at weddin's dese days. If de girl
didn't love de boy an' he jumped ober de broom an' she didn't, den dey
wa'nt mar'ied.
"Dere was no schools in dem days either, an' I can't read an' write
today. Some of de white folks taught de younger niggers an' den dey tuk
dey lessons an' studied at dey cabin of nights afte' dey had finished
work.
"We had prayer meetin's in each others houses durin' de week. One
plantation owner built a little church on his place an' de niggers, dey
go in de back do' an' sit in de back, an' white folks dey come in de
front of de church an' sit. De Presbyterin chu'ch was de only one 'round
dere an' dey sprinkled ever'body--jes poured water ober dey heads frum a
glass an' den patted hit hit in (demonstrated).
"'Twas funny--one time Joe an' Green, two niggers on our place, et dey
supper an' run 'way at night an' afte' dey was kotched, dey tol' us dat
when dey was passin' through de woods dat night a great big old
gran'daddy owl flopped his wings an' Joe said 'we'd better turn back.' I
allus heard hit was bad luck fer to hear a owl floppin' lack dat, but
Green said 'twant nothin', jes a old owl floppin', but he jes naturally
flopped diffrunt dat night, an' Green walked on 'bout 15 steps an'
somebody shot him dead. Joe said he tu'ned back an' run home.
"All our niggers had to have passes to leave de plantation an' when de
pataroller kotched 'em wid out'n a pass, de nigger was whupped.
Sometimes de plantation owner did hit an' sometimes de sheriff. Dey
used a long leather strop cut at de ends.
"We used snake root, hohound weed, life everlastin' weed, horse mint,
an' sassafras as medicine.
"When de War was right on us, grub was scarce an' sometimes little
niggers only had clabber milk an' dey et it in de trough wid de pigs,
an' sometimes dey only had pie crusts an' bread crusts at night when dey
et on de cabin flo'. Dem was hard times afte' de War.
"'Nother time one nigger run 'way frum our plantation an' hid by day an'
traveled by night so de nigger dogs wouldn't git him an' he hid in a
hollow tree. Dere was three cubs down in dat tree an' hit was so slick
inside an' so high 'til he couldn't clim' out, an' afte' while de ole
bear came back an' throw in half a hog. Den she go 'way an' come ag'in
an' throw in de other half. 'Bout a hour later, she came back an' crawl
in back'ards herse'f. De nigger inside de tree kotched her by de tail
an' pulled hisself out. Hit scared de bear so 'til she run in one
direction an' de nigger in 'nother. But de nigger, he run in de
direction of his marster's place an' said he'd neber run off again as
long as he libed.
"I can't 'member de old songs but dese niggers today can't sing lak dat
neither 'cause dey ain't libed back dere, an' dey can't feel hit lak us
old folks. Dem was de good old days allright, an' dey was hard days
too."
JAMES LUCAS
Natchez, Mississippi
James Lucas, ex-slave of Jefferson Davis, lives at Natchez, Adams
County. Uncle Jim is small, wrinkled, and slightly stooped. His woolly
hair is white, and his eyes very bright. He wears a small grizzled
mustache. He is always clean and neatly dressed.
"Miss, you can count up for yo'se'f. I was born on October 11, 1833. My
young Marster give me my age when he heired de prope'ty of his uncle,
Marse W.B. Withers. He was a-goin' through de papers an' a-burnin' some
of 'em when he foun' de one 'bout me. Den he says, 'Jim, dissen's 'bout
you. It gives yo' birthday.'
"I recollec' a heap' bout slav'ry-times, but I's all by myse'f now. All
o' my frien's has lef' me. Even Marse Fleming has passed on. He was a
little boy when I was a grown man.
"I was born in a cotton fiel' in cotton pickin' time, an' de wimmins
fixed my mammy up so she didn' hardly lose no time at all. My mammy sho'
was healthy. Her name was Silvey an' her mammy come over to dis country
in a big ship. Somebody give her de name o' Betty, but twant her right
name. Folks couldn' un'erstan' a word she say. It was some sort o'
gibberish dey called gulluh-talk, an' it soun' _dat_ funny. My pappy was
Bill Lucas.
"When I was a little chap I used to wear coarse lowell-cloth shirts on
de week-a-days. Dey was long an' had big collars. When de seams ripped
de hide would show through. When I got big enough to wait 'roun' at de
Big House an' go to town, I wore clean rough clo'es. De pants was white
linsey-woolsey an' de shirts was rough white cotton what was wove at de
plantation. In de winter de sewin' wimmins made us heavy clothes an'
knit wool socks for us. De wimmins wore linsey-woolsey dresses an' long
leggin's lak de sojers wear. Dis was a long narrow wool cloth an' it
wropt 'roun' an' 'roun' dey legs an' fas'n at de top wid a string.
"I never went to no church, but on Sund'ys a white man would preach an'
pray wid us an' when he'd git through us went on 'bout us own business.