Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews with Former Slaves, Volume XIV, South Carolina Narratives, Part 4
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Title: Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews with Former Slaves, Volume XIV, South Carolina Narratives, Part 4
Author: United States. Work Projects Administration
Release date: February 24, 2009 [eBook #28170]
Most recently updated: January 4, 2021
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES: A FOLK HISTORY OF SLAVERY IN THE UNITED STATES FROM INTERVIEWS WITH FORMER SLAVES, VOLUME XIV, SOUTH CAROLINA NARRATIVES, PART 4 ***
Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by the Library of Congress,
Manuscript Division)
[Transcriber's Note:
This text is mainly written in dialect. As such, the majority of the
spelling, grammar, and punctuation irregularities have been preserved,
with the exception of a number of typographical errors. A full list of
them can be found at the end of the text.]
SLAVE NARRATIVES
_A Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with
Former Slaves_
TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY
THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT
1936-1938
ASSEMBLED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT
WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION
FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
_Illustrated with Photographs_
WASHINGTON 1941
VOLUME XIV
SOUTH CAROLINA NARRATIVES
PART 4
Prepared by
the Federal Writers' Project of
the Works Progress Administration
for the State of South Carolina
INFORMANTS
Raines, Mary 1
Range, Frank 3
Rawls, Sam 5, 7
Renwick, Ellen 9
Rice, Anne 10
Rice, Jessie 12
Rice, Phillip 17
Richardson, Martha 19
Riley, Mamie 23
Riser, Susie 25
Roberts, Isom 26
Robertson, Alexander 31
Robinson, Charlie 35
Rosboro, Al 38
Rosboro, Tom 42
Rosborough, Reuben 45
Rose, William 48
Russell, Benjamin 51
Rutherford, Joe 55
Rutherford, Lila 57
Rutledge, Sabe 59, 65
Ryan, Henry 71, 74
Satterwhite, Emoline 75
Scaife, Alexander 76
Scantling, Eliza 78
Scott, Mary 81
Scott, Nina 88
Scurry, Morgan 89
Simmons, Ransom 91
Sligh, Alfred 92
Smith, Dan 95
Smith, Hector 100, 105
Smith, Jane 110
Smith, Mary 112
Smith, Prince 116
Smith, Silas 119
Sparrow, Jessie 121, 125, 130, 136, 141
Starke, Rosa 147
Stewart, Josephine 151
Suber, Bettie 155
Swindler, Ellen 156
Taylor, Mack 157
Thompson, Delia 160
Toatley, Robert 163
Veals, Mary 167, 169
Walker, Manda 170
Walker, Med 174
Waring, Daniel 181
Washington, Nancy 184
Watson, Charley 188
White, Dave 191, 194
White, Tena 196
Williams, Bill 199
Williams, Jesse 202
Williams, Mary 206
Williams, Willis 208
Wilson, Emoline 213, 215
Wilson, Jane 216
Woodberry, Genia 218
Woodberry, Julia 227, 232, 237, 242
Woods, George 247
Woodward, Aleck 253
Woodward, Mary 257
Worth, Pauline 260
Wright, Daphney 266
Young, Bill 270
Young, Bob 273
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=MARY RAINES=
=_EX-SLAVE 99 YEARS OLD._=
Mary Raines is the oldest living person, white or black, in Fairfield
County. If she survives until next December, she will have attained her
century of years. She lives with her widowed daughter, Fannie
McCollough, fifty-seven years old, and a son, Joe Raines, aged 76 years.
They rent a two-room frame house, on lands of Mrs. Sallie Wylie, Chester
County, S.C. Joe, the son, is a day laborer on nearby farms. Fannie
cooks for Mrs. W.T. Raines. Old Mother Mary has been receiving a county
pension of $5.00 per month for several years.
"How old would Marse William Woodward be if he hadn't died befo' I gwine
to die? A hundred and twenty, you say? Well, dat's 'bout de way I
figured my age. Him was a nephew of Marse Ed, de fust Marse Ed P.
Mobley. Him say dat when him 'come twenty-one, old marster give him a
birthday dinner and 'vite folks to it. Marse Riley McMaster, from
Winnsboro, S.C., was dere a flyin' 'round my young mistress, Miss
Harriett. Marse Riley was a young doctor, ridin' 'round wid saddlebags.
While they was all settin' down to dinner, de young doctor have to git
up in a hurry to go see my mammy. Left his plate piled up wid turkey,
nice dressin', rice and gravy, candy 'tatoes, and apple marmalade and
cake. De wine 'canter was a settin' on de 'hogany sideboard. All dis him
leave to go see mammy, who was a squallin' lak a passle of patarollers
(patrollers) was a layin' de lash on her. When de young doctor go and
come back, him say as how my mammy done got all right and her have a gal
baby. Then him say dat Marse Ed, his uncle, took him to de quarter where
mammy was, look me all over and say: 'Ain't her a good one? Must weigh
ten pounds. I's gwine to name dis baby for your mama, William. Tell her
I name her, Mary, for her, but I 'spects some folks'll call her 'Polly',
just lak they call your mama, 'Polly'.
"I was a strong gal, went to de field when I's twelve years old, hoe my
acre of cotton, 'long wid de grown ones, and pick my 150 pounds of
cotton. As I wasn't scared of de cows, they set me to milkin' and
churnin'. Bless God! Dat took me out of de field. House servants 'bove
de field servants, them days. If you didn't git better rations and
things to eat in de house, it was your own fault, I tells you! You just
have to help de chillun to take things and while you doin' dat for them,
you take things for yourself. I never call it stealin'. I just call it
takin' de jams, de jellies, de biscuits, de butter and de 'lasses dat I
have to reach up and steal for them chillun to hide 'way in deir little
stomaches, and me, in my big belly.
"When Joe drive de young doctor, Marse Riley, out to see Mass Harriett,
while Marse Riley doin' his courtin' in de parlor, Joe was doin' his
courtin' in de kitchen. Joe was as smart as de nex' one. Us made faster
time than them in de parlor; us beat them to de marriage. Marse Riley
call it de altar, but Joe always laugh and say it was de halter. Many is
de time I have been home wid them sixteen chillun, when him was a
gallavantin' 'round, and I wished I had a got a real halter on dat
husband of mine.
"I b'longs to de Gladden's Grove African Methodist 'Piscopal Church. Too
old to shout but de great day is comin', when I'll shout and sing to de
music of dat harp of 10,000 strings up yonder. Oh! Won't dat be a joyful
day, when dese old ailin' bones gonna rise again." (Then the old darkey
became suffused in tears, lapsed into a silence and apathy, from which
she couldn't be aroused. Finally she slumbered and snored. It would have
been unkind to question her further.)
=Project 935=
=Hattie Mobley=
=Richland County=
=FRANK RANGE=
=CIVIL WAR SERVANT and HERO=
At the age of one hundred and three, Frank Range is a familiar figure on
the streets of Greenville, talking freely of pre-Civil and Civil War
days, and the part he played in the war.
Frank, the oldest of nine children, was born of slave parents, Lenard
and Elizabeth Herbert, on the plantation of Mr. Jim Boler, Newberry,
South Carolina. He was sold several times, and is known by the name of
one of his owners, John Range.
During the Civil War his master, Mr. Jim Herbert, carried him to the war
as a cook, and when necessary, he was pressed into service, throwing up
breast-works; and while he was engaged in this work, at Richmond Va. a
terrific bombardment of their lines was made, and a part of their
breast-works was crushed in, and his master buried beneath it. Frantic
with fear for the safety of his master, Frank began to move the dirt
away; finally he was able to drag him to safety. Though shot and shell
were falling all around him, he came out unscathed.
Frank Range returned to Newberry at the close of the war, after which he
moved to Greenville County in 1901, and into the city in 1935. He is
never happier than when, in the center of a group of willing hearers, he
is reciting in a sing-song tone the different periods of his life.
He attributes his longevity to the fact that he has never tasted
whiskey, never chewed tobacco; never had a fight; toothache and
headache are unknown to him; the service of a physician has never been
needed; he does not know one playing card from another. He can walk five
or more miles with seeming ease; is jovial and humorous.
He receives a state pension of twenty five dollars annually. His place
of residence is 101 Hudson St. Greenville, S.C.
References;
Mr. Guy A. Gullick,
Probate Judge, Greenville County.
Frank Range (information given concerning himself)
101 Hudson St. Greenville S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=June 15, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I was born in 1835 in Lexington County, S.C. I know I was 12 years old
de last year of de war. I belonged to John Hiller in Lexington County,
near Columbia, S.C. Old Marse Hiller was strict to his slaves, wasn't
mean, but often whipped 'em. I thought it was all right then. When de
Yankees come through burning, killing and stealing stock, I was in
marse's yard. Dey come up whar de boss was standing, told him dere was
going to be a battle, grabbed him and hit him. Dey burned his house,
stole de stock, and one Yankee stuck his sword to my breast and said fer
me to come wid him or he would kill me. O' course I went along. Dey took
me as fer as Broad River, on t'other side o' Chapin; then turned me
loose and told me to run fast or they would shoot me. I went fast and
found my way back home by watching de sun. Dey told me to not go back to
dat old man.
"De slaves never learnt to read and write. If any o' dem was caught
trying to learn to read or write, dey was whipped bad. I kotched on to
what de white chilluns said, and learnt by myself to say de alphabet.
"We went to de white churches atter de war, and set in de gallery. Den
de niggers set up a 'brush harbor' church fer demselves. We went to
school at de church, and atter school was out in de atternoon, we had
preaching.
"Befo' freedom come, de patrollers was strong dere, and whipped any
niggers dey kotched out without a pass; wouldn't let dem go to church
without a pass.
"Lots of hunting round dere, dey hunted rabbits, squirrels, foxes and
'possums. Dey fished like dey do now.
"De white folks had old brick ovens away from de house, and wide
fireplaces in de kitchens. Dey cooked many things on Saturdays, to last
several days. Saturday afternoons, we had off to catch up on washing and
other things we wanted to do.
"I 'member de Ku Klux and de Red Shirts, but don't 'member anything dey
did dere.
"We had corn-shuckings and cotton pickings, when de white people would
have everybody to come and help. Us niggers would help. Dey had big
suppers afterwards.
"We had plenty to eat from de garden of de boss, a big garden dat
furnished all de slaves. Den de boss killed hogs and had other things to
eat. Most o' de things raised in de garden, was potatoes, turnips,
collards and peas.
"Some of us had witches. One old woman was a witch, and she rode me one
night. I couldn't get up one night, had a ketching of my breath and
couldn't rise up. She held me down. In dem days, was lots o' fevers with
de folks. Dey cured 'em and other sickness wid teas from root herbs and
barks.
"Abraham Lincoln was a good man. He said you folks ought to let dem
niggers loose and let dem go to work. He come wid his two men, Grant and
Sherman, and captured de slave bosses. Jeff Davis was one o' de
forerunners of de war. Don't know much about him. Booker T. Washington
is a good man. Think he is in office fer a good purpose. I been married
four times, Was young man when I married first time. Gussie Gallman, my
last wife, is living wid me."
Source: Sam Rawls (84), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/9/37)
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Oct. 13, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I live wid my fourth wife and she is much younger dan me. I am unable
to work and have to stay in bed lots of de time. My wife works at odd
jobs, like washing, ironing and cooking. We rent a two-room house from
Miss Ann Ruff.
"I belonged to John Hiller. He was a good master but he worked his
slaves hard. Dat was in Lexington County.
"I heard dat Gen. Grant said de slaves ought to get 40 acres of land and
a mule so dey could go to work; but dey never got any dat I knows of.
Atter Freedom dey worked as wage earners and share-croppers. Some went
to other farms to get jobs. Dat's about what dey do now, but some of dem
saved a little money and bought farms and some started little businesses
of deir own.
"De Ku Klux didn't have much influence wid de slaves or ex-slaves. As
soon as de war broke, dey went riding up and down de public roads to
catch and beat niggers. My brother run off when dey got atter him. He
went to Orangeburg County and stayed down dere.
"I voted twice den, once at Prosperity and again at Newberry. I was a
Republican, of course. Some of de Niggers of dis state was elected to
office, but dey was not my kinfolks nor special friends. I think niggers
ought to vote so dey could vote fer good white folks; and dey ought to
run fer office if dey could be elected by good white folks.
"I was sixteen years old when de Yankees come through dis country. Dey
caught me in de road and made me go wid dem to Broad River where dey
camped one night. Den dey turned me loose and told me to git. I run as
fast as I could. I followed de setting sun, de road running towards de
sun all de time, and got home about night.
"Since freedom is come de niggers have worked mostly on farms as
share-croppers; some as renters wid deir own crops to raise.
"De present generation of niggers ain't got much sense. Dey work when
dey want to, and have deir own way about it. De old niggers was learned
to work when dey was little.
"I don't know nothing about de Nat Turner Rebellion. I never know'd but
one old nigger dat come from Virginia, old Ellen Abner. She lived below
Prosperity fer a long time, in de Stoney Hills.
"Yes sir, I tries to live right and git along wid everybody."
Source: Sam Rawls (80), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/23/37.
=Project 1885 -1-=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=District #4=
=May 31, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Martha Ritter=
=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=
"I was born on Capt. John P. Kinard's place. My mammy and pa was Lucy
and Eph Kinard who belonged to Marse Kinard. Marse Kinard was good to
his slaves--didn't whip them much. He whipped me a little. When I was a
little girl I slept in the big house in the room with my mistress and
her husband, and waited on them. I worked when I got old enough, in the
field, and anywhere around. When I wouldn't work good, my mammy whipped
me most.
"I 'member the folks cooked in skillets over an old fireplace.
"After the war was over and freedom come we stayed on with Capt. Kinard,
'till I married and then went over to Dock Renwick's place where my
husband worked. I married Tom Renwick. We went to the church of the
colored folks after the war, and had preachings in mornings and evenings
and at night, too. We didn't have no nigger schools, and we didn't learn
to read and write.
"The white folks had corn-shuckings, cotton pickings at night, when the
mistress would fix a big dinner for all working."
SOURCE: Ellen Renwick (79), RFD, Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: Mr. G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St.,
Newberry, S.C.
=Project 1885 -1-=
=District #4=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=June 7, 1937=
=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=
"I was born in Spartanburg County, S.C., near Glenn Springs. I can't
'member slavery or de war, but my ma and pa who was Green Foster and his
wife, Mary Posey Foster, always said I was a big gal when the war
stopped, when freedom come.
"We belonged to Seth Posey who had a big farm there. He was a good man,
but sure made us work. I worked in the fields when I was small, hoed and
picked cotton, hoed corn. They didn't give us no money for it. All we
got was a place to sleep and a little to eat. The big man had a good
garden and give us something from it. He raised loads of hogs, to eat
and to sell. He sold lots of them. The young fellows hunted rabbits,
possums, squirrels, wild turkeys, partridges, doves, and went fishing.
The Master's wife, Miss Nancy, was good to us. She had one son, William.
"Yes, I 'member my ma telling us 'bout the padder-rollers. They would
ride around, whipping niggers.
"My ma said her step-mother sold her. Sometimes they would take crowds
of slaves to Mississippi, taking away mothers from their infant babies,
leaving the babies on the floor.
"We always shuck corn and shell it at night, on moon-light nights we
pick cotton. On Saturday afternoons we had frolics, sometimes frolics
'till Sunday daylight, then sleep all day Sunday.
"When we got sick all the medicine we took was turpentine--dat would
cure almost any ailment. Some of the niggers used Sampson snake weed or
peach leaves boiled and tea drunk.
"I joined the church when I was 12 years old 'cause the other girls
joined. I think everybody ought to join a church to get their souls
right for heaven:
"I married Charley Rice in Spartanburg County, at a colored man's house,
named Henry Fox, by a colored preacher named 'Big Eye' Bill Rice. I had
four children, and have five grand-children. I have been living in
Newberry about 35 years or more. I worked as a wash-woman many years.
"When freedom come, my folks stayed on with Capt. Posey, and I washed
and ironed with them later when I was big enough. I done some cooking,
too. I could card and spin and make homespun dresses. My ma learned me.
"I don't know much about Abraham Lincoln and Jeff Davis but reckon dey
was good men. I never learned to read and write. Booker Washington, I
reckon, is a good man."
SOURCE: Anne Rice (75), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St.,
Newberry, S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Jan. 17, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"My people tells me a lot about when I was a lil' wee boy. I has a clear
mind and I allus has had one. My folks did not talk up people's age like
folks do dese days. Every place dat I be now, 'specially round dese
government folks, first thing dat dey wants to know is your name. Well,
dat is quite natu'al, but de very next question is how old you is. I
don't know, why it is, but dey sho do dat. As my folks never talked age,
it never worried me till jes' here of late. So dey says to me dat last
week I give one age to de man, and now I gives another. Soon I see'd dat
and I had to rest my mind on dat as well as de mind of de government
folks. So I settled it at 80 years old. Dat gives me respect from
everybody dat I sees. Den it is de truth, too, kaise I come along wid
everybody dat is done gone and died now. De few white folks what I was
contemperment (contemporary) wid, 'lows dat I is 80 and dey is dat, too.
"You know dat I does 'member when dat Sherman man went through here wid
dem awful mens he had. Dey 'lowed dat dey was gwine to Charlotte to git
back to Columbia. I never is heard of sech befo' or since. We lived at
old man Jerry Moss's in Yorkville, way back den. Yes sir, everyone said
Yorkville, den, but dey ain't never called Gaffney like dat. Stories
goes round 'bout Sherman shooting folks. Some say dat he shot a big rock
off'n de State House in Columbia. My Ma and my Pa, Henry and Charity
Rice, hid me wid dem when Sherman come along. Us never see'd him, Lawd
God no, us never wanted to see him.
"Folks allus crying hard times dese days, ain't no hard times now like
it was atter Sherman went through Yorkville. My ma and pa give me ash
cake and 'simmon beer to eat for days atter dat. White folks never had
no mo', not till a new crop was grow'd. Dat year de seasons was good and
gardens done well. Till den us nearly starved and we never had no easy
time gitting garden seed to plant, neither.
"Yes sir, if I's handy to locust I makes locust beer; den if I's handy
to 'simmons, why den I makes 'simmon beer. Now it's jes' for to pass de
time dat us does dat. But gwine back to de war; den it was for
necessity. Dese young'uns now don't know what hard times is. Dey all has
bread and meat and coffee, no matter how poor dey is. If dey had to live
for days and weeks on ash cake and 'simmon beer, as us did den, and work
and wait on a crop wid nothing but dat in deir bellies; den dey could
grumble hard times. I allus tells 'em to shut up when dey starts
anything like dat around me.
"When dat crop come along, we sho did fall in and save all us could for
de next year. Every kind of seed and pod dat grow'd we saved and dried
for next spring or fall planting. Atter folks is once had deir belly
aching and growling for victuals, dey ain't never gwine to throw no
rations and things away no mo'. Young folks is powerful wasteful, but if
something come along to break up deir good time like it did to us when
dat man Sherman held everything up, dey sho will take heed, and dey
won't grumble 'bout it neither, cause dey won't have no time to grumble.
"Things passes over quicker sometimes dan we figures out dat dey will.
Everything, no matter how good it be or how hard, passes over. Dey jes'
does like dat. So dem Yankees went on somewhars, I never know'd whar,
and everything round Yorkville was powerful relieved. Den de
Confederate soldiers started coming across Broad River. Befo' dey got
home, word had done got round dat our folks had surrendered; but dem
Yankees never fit (fought) us out--dey starved us out. If things had
been equal us would a-been fighting dem till dis day, dat us sho would.
I can still see dem soldiers of ours coming across Broad River, all
dirty, filthy, and lousy. Dey was most starved, and so poor and lanky.
And deir hosses was in de same fix. Men and hosses had know'd plenty
till dat Sherman come along, but most of dem never know'd plenty no
more. De men got over it better dan de hosses. Women folks cared for de
men. Dey brewed tea from sage leaves, sassafras root and other herb
teas. Nobody never had no money to fetch no medicine from de towns wid,
so dey made liniments and salves from de things dat grow'd around about
in de woods and gardens.
"I told you 'bout how small I was, but my brother, Jim Rice, went to
Charleston and helped to make dem breastworks down dar. I has never
see'd dem, but dem dat has says dat dey is still standing in good
conditions. Cose de Yankees tore up all dat dey could when dey got dar.
"Lots of rail fences was made back in dem days. Folks had a 'no fence'
law, dat meant dat everybody fenced in deir fields and let de stock run
free. Hogs got wild and turkeys was already wild. Sometimes bulls had to
be shot to keep dem from tearing up everything. But folks never fenced
in no pasture den. Dey put a rail fence all around de fields, and in dem
days de fields was never bigger dan ten or fifteen acres. Logs was
plentiful, and some niggers, called 'rail splitters', never done nothing
else but split rails to make fences.
"If I recollects right, Wade Hampton broke down fence laws in dis
country. I sho heard him talk in Yorkville. Dey writ about him in de
Yorkville Inquirer and dey still has dat paper over dar till now. De Red
Shirts come along and got Wade Hampton in. He scared de Yankees and
Carpetbaggers and all sech folks as dem away from our country. Dey went
back whar dey come from, I reckon.
"De Ku Klux was de terriblest folks dat ever crossed my path. Who dey
was I ain't never know'd, but dey took Alex Leech to Black's Ford on
Bullet Creek and killed him for being a radical. It was three weeks
befo' his folks got hold of his body.
"Dr. Bell's calves got out and did not come back for a long time. Mrs.
Bell fear'd dat dey was gitting wild, so she sent de milk girl down on
de creek to git dem calves. Dat girl had a time, but she found 'em and
drove 'em back to de lot. De calves give her a big chase and jumped de
creek near a big raft of logs dat had done washed up from freshets. All
over dem logs she saw possums, musrats and buzzards a-setting around.
She took her stick and drove dem all away, wid dem buzzards puking at
her. When dey had left, she see'd uncle Alex laying up dar half e't up
by all dem varmints.
"She know'd dat it must be him. When she left, dem buzzards went back to
deir perch. First thing dey done was to lap up deir own puke befo' dey
started on uncle Alex again. Yes sir, dat's de way turkey buzzards does.
Dey pukes on folks to keep dem away, and you can't go near kaise it be's
so nasty; but dem buzzards don't waste nothing. Little young buzzards
looks like down till dey gits over three days old. You can go to a
buzzard roost and see for yourself, but you sho better stay out'n de way
of de old buzzard's puke. Dey sets around de little ones and keeps
everything off by puking.
"Pacolet used to be called Buzzard Roost, kaise in de old days dey had a
rail outside de bar-room dat de drunks used to hang over and puke in a
gully. De buzzards would stay in dat gully and lap up dem drunkards'
puke. One night a old man went in a drunkard's sleep in de bar-room. De
bar tender shoved him out when he got ready to close, and he rolled up
against dis here rail dat I am telling you about. He 'lowed dat next
morning when he woke up, two buzzards was setting on his shirt front
eating up his puke. He said, 'You is too soon', and grabbed one by de
leg and wrung his head off. But befo' he could git its head wrung off it
had done puked his own puke back on him. He said dat was de nastiest
thing he ever got into, and dat he never drunk no more liquor. Dem days
is done past and gone, and it ain't nobody hardly knows Pacolet used to
be called Buzzard Roost.
"Lawd have mercy, white folks! Here I is done drapped plumb off'n my
subject; but a old man's mind will jes' run waa'ry at times. Me and Joe,
Alex's son, went to see de officer 'bout gitting Joe's pa buried. He
'lowed dat Alex's body was riddled wid bullets; so we took him and put
his bones and a little rotten flesh dat dem buzzards had left, in de box
we made, and fetched it to de site and buried him. Nobody ever seed Alex
but me, Joe, and dat gal dat went atter dem calves. Us took shovels and
throw'd his bones in de box. When we got de top nailed on, we was both
sick. Now, things like dat don't come to pass. I still thinks of de
awful days and creeps runs all over me yet.
"All my brothers, sisters, mother and father is done gone. And I is
looking to leave befo' a great while. I is trying every day to git
ready, Lawd. I been making ready for years. Smart mens tries to make you
live on, but dey can't git above death. Tain't no use."
Source: Jesse Rice (80), Littlejohn St., Gaffney, S.C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 1/8/38
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=June 15, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I'm living on Mr. Russel Emmitt's place. I never did nothing but drive
cows when I was a little boy growing up. Miss Cum and Miss Lizzie Rice
was Marse Alex's sisters. Marse Alex done died, and dey was my mistress.
Dey tuck and sold de plantation afo dey died, here 'bout twenty years
ago. Dat whar my ma found me and den she died.
"My grandparents, Jane and Peter Stevens, brung me up. I was a little
farm boy and driv cows fer de overseer, Jim Blalock. Miss Cum was really
Miss Ann. Miss Ann had a hundred niggers, herself, and Miss Lizzie had
might nigh dat many, asides dem what Marse Alex done left 'em. De
overseer try to act rough out o' Miss Ann's sight, and she find it out
and set him down a peg.
"Miss Jane have our shirts made on de looms. She let us wear long shirts
and go in our shirt tails, and us had to keep 'em clean, too, 'cause
Miss Jane never like no dirt around her. Miss Jane have charge of de
whole house and everything along wid it.
"Us had three hundred hogs to tend to, two hundred yellings and heifers,
and Lawdy knows how many sheep and goats. Us fed dem things and kept 'em
fat. When butchering time come, us stewed out the mostest lard and we
had enough side-meat to supply the plantation the year round. Our wheat
land was fertilized wid load after load of cotton seed. De wheat us
raised was de talk of de country side. 'Sides dat, dare was rye, oats
and barley, and I ain't said nothing 'bout de bottom corn dat laid in de
cribs from year to year.
"Our smokehouse was allus full o' things to eat, not only fer de white
folks but fer de darkies as well. And our barns carried feed fer de
cattle from harvest to harvest.
"De fattest of all de hosses, was Miss Ann's black saddle hoss called,
'Beauty'. Miss Ann wo' de longest side-saddle dress dat hung way down
below her feets. Somebody allus had to help her on and off Beauty, but
n'ary one of her brothers could out-ride Miss Ann."
Source: Phillip Rice (75), Kelton, S.C. RFD
Interviewed by: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (5/7/37)
=Project #1655=
=Stiles M. Scruggs=
=Columbia, S.C.=
=_THE POT OF GOLD._=
Martha Richardson, who tells this story, lives at 924 Senate Street,
Columbia, S.C. Her father was an Indian and her mother a mulatto. She
was born in Columbia in 1860 and was five years old, when General W.T.
Sherman's Federal troops captured and burned the city in 1865.
"When I gits big 'nough to pick up chips for de cook stove, we was
livin' in de rear of Daniel Gardner's home, on Main Street, and my mammy
was workin' as one of de cooks at de Columbia Hotel. De hotel was run by
Master Lowrance, where de Lorick & Lowrance store is now.
"My daddy, like de general run of Indians, love to hunt but de game not
bring much cash in. My mammy often give him some change (money) and he
not work much but he always good to mammy and she love him and not fuss
at him, much. I soon learn dat if it had not been for mammy, we wouldn't
a had much to eat and wear. We go 'long lak dat for a good while and my
mammy have friends 'nough dat she seldom had to ask for a job.
"De game was so scarce dat my daddy sometimes make a little money a
showin' people how to make Indian medicine, dat was good for many
complaints, how to cover deir houses, and how to kill deir hogs,
'cordin' to de moon. He tell us many times 'bout de great Catawba
Indians, who make all deir own medicines and kill bears and dress in
deir skins, after feastin' on deir flesh. He was a good talker.
"You know, I sees so much 'skimpin', to make ends meet at home, as we go
'long dis way, dat I has never married. My mammy tell me: 'Honey, you a
pretty child. You grow up and marry a fine, lovin' man lak your daddy,
and be happy.' I kinda smile but I thinks a lot. If my daddy had worked
and saved lak my mammy, we would be 'way head of what we is, and my
brudders say so, too. But we fond of our daddy, he so good lookin' and
all.
"What de most 'citin' thing I ever see? Well, I think de Red Shirt
campaign was. You never see so much talkin', fightin', and fussin' as
dat. You know de Yankees was still here and they not 'fraid, and de
Hampton folks was not 'fraid, so it was a case of knock down and drag
out most of de time, it seem to me. Long at de end, dere was two
governors; one was in de Wallace House and one in de Capitol. Men went
'bout town wid deir guns.
"Mammy keep busy cookin', nussin', and washin', and us chillun help. You
know I had two brudders older than me and a little baby brudder 'bout a
year old, when my mammy rent a small farm from Master Greenfield, down
at de end of Calhoun Street, near de Broad River. We plant cotton. I was
then eleven years old and my brudder was twelve and thirteen. My mammy
help us plant it befo' she go to work at de hotel.
"She was home washin', one day, when my brudders and me was choppin'
cotton. We chop 'til 'bout eleven o'clock dat mornin' and we say: 'When
we gits out de rows to de big oak tree we'll sit down and rest.' We
chillun lak each other and we joke and work fast 'til we comes to de end
of de rows and in de shade of de big oak. Then we sets down, dat is, my
oldest brudder and me, 'cause my young brudder was a little behind us in
his choppin'. As he near de finish, his hoe hit somethin' hard and it
ring. Ha rake de dirt 'way and keep diggin', light lak.
"What you doin', brudder?' I say. He say: 'Tryin' to find out what dis
is. It seem to be a pot lid.' Then we jump up and go to him and all of
us grabble dirt 'way and sho' 'nough it was a pot lid and it was on a
pot. We digs it out, thinkin' it would be a good thing to take home. It
was so heavy, it take us all to lift it out.
"It was no sooner out than we takes off de lid and we is sho' s'prised
at what we see. Big silver dollars lay all over de top. We takes two of
them and drops them together and they ring just lak we hear them ring on
de counters. Then we grabble in de pot for more. De silver went down
'bout two inches deep. Twenty dollar gold pieces run down 'bout four
inches or so and de whole bottom was full of big bundles of twenty
dollar greenbacks.
"We walks up to de house feelin' pretty big and my oldest brudder was
singin':
'Hawk and buzzard went to law,
Hawk come back wid a broken jaw.'
"Mammy say widout lookin' at us: 'What you all comin' to dinner so soon
for?' Then she looked up and see de pot and say: 'Land sakes, what you
all got?' Then we puts de big pot down in de middle of de floor and
takes off de lid, and mammy say: 'Oh! Let's see what we has!' She begin
to empty de pot and to count de money. She tell us to watch de door and
see dat nobody got in, 'cause she not at home!
"She say de money 'mount to $5,700, and she swear us not to say nothin'
'bout findin' it. She would see what she could find out 'bout it. Weeks
after dat, she tell us a big white friend tell her he hear a friend of
his buried some money and went to war widout tellin' anybody where it
was. Maybe he was killed and dat all we ever hear.
"My mammy kept it and we all work on just de same and she buy these two
lots on Senate Street. She build de two-story house here at 924, where
you sittin' now, and de cottage nex' door. She always had rent money
comin' in ever since. By and by she die, after my Indian pappy go 'way
and never come back. Then all de chillun die, 'ceptin' me.
"I am so happy dat I is able to spend my old days in a sort of ease,
after strugglin' most of my young life and gittin' no learnin' at
school, dat I sometimes sing my mammy's old song, runnin' somethin' lak
dis:
'Possum up de simmon tree
Sparrow on de ground
'Possum throw de 'simmons down
Sparrow shake them 'round'."
=Project#-1655=
=Phoebe Faucette=
=Hampton County=
=Approx. 416 words=
=MAMIE RILEY=
=Ex-Slave=
"Aunt Mamie's" hair is entirely white. She lives in a neat duplex brick
house with one of her husband's relatives, a younger woman who is a cook
for a well established family in Estill, S.C. When questioned about the
times before the war, she replied:
"Yes'm, I kin tell you 'bout slav'ry time, 'cause I is one myself. I
don' remember how old I is. But I remember when de Yankees come through
I bin 'bout so high. (She put her hand out about 3-1/2 feet from the
floor.) We lived on Mr. Henry Solomons' place--a big place. Mr. Henry
Solomons had a plenty of people--three rows of house, or four.
"When de Yankees come through Mr. Solomons' place I wuz right dere. We
wuz at our house in de street. I see it all. My ma tell me to run; but I
ain't think they'd hurt me. I see 'em come down de street--all of 'em on
horses. Oo--h, dey wuz a heap of 'em! I couldn't count 'em. My daddy run
to de woods--he an' de other men. Dey ran right to de graveyard. Too
mucha bush been dere. You couldn't see 'em. Stay in de woods three days.
"Dey went to my daddy's house an' take all. My daddy ran. My mother an'
my older sister wuz dere. My ma grab a quilt off de bed an' cover
herself all over wid it--head an' all. And set in a chair dere by de
fire. She tell us to git in de bed--but I ain't git in. And she yell out
when she hear 'em comin': 'Dere's de fever in heah!' Six of 'em come to
de door; but dey say dey ain't goin' in--dey'll catch de fever. Den some
more come along. Dey say dey gwine in. Dey ain't gwine to take no fever.
Fill two sack of 'tatoes. White man ask to search all trunk. Dey take
two of me Ma's good dresses out. Say to wrap 'tatoes in. I start to
cryin' den, an' dey say, 'Well, git us some sacks den.' I knowed where
some sacks wuz. I git 'em de sacks. Dey do 'em right. Dey bid 'em
goodbye, an' ax 'em where de man wuz. Dey give me 'leven or twelve
dollars. I wuz little an' ain't know. My mother never give it to me.
"I stay right on dere after freedom, until after I married."
Source: Mamie Riley, Negro about 80 years old, Estill, S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=May 24, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I was born near Broad River in de Dutch Fork of Newberry County. I was
a slave of Cage Suber. He was a fair master, but nothing to brag about.
I was small at slavery time and had to work in de white folks' house or
around the house until I was big enough to go to de field and work.
"Old Marse Cage always made me fan flies off of him when he lay down to
take a nap. The fan was made out of brushes.
"De white folks had cotton-pickings, corn-shuckings and quiltings. Dey
allus had something to eat at the frolics and I had to help wid 'em.
"I married John Riser. I moved to town several years ago."
Source: Susie Riser (80), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C., May 17, 1937.
=Project #1655=
=Henry Grant,=
=Columbia, S.C.=
=ISOM ROBERTS=
=_EX-SLAVE 80 YEARS OLD_=
Isom Roberts rents one room at 1226 Waverly Street, Columbia, S.C., and
lives alone. However frail he appears, he is able to support himself by
working in the yards about the city.
"Well, sir, white folks, I is eighty years old, or leastwise I is so
close to it, dat it don't make much difference. But even if I is dat
old, it don't seem so long since I was a little boy. Years flies by
mighty fas' to old folks, 'cause deir 'memberance is shorter, while
young folks 'members everything, and in dat way months and years drags
'long slower to them.
"I was a very small boy when de Civil War was gwine on. It seems like I
knows all 'bout Sherman's army comin' through dis State, a burnin'
Columbia and destroyin' and takin' away everything what folks had. I has
heard so much 'bout slavery and all them times, from my mammy and daddy,
dat it 'pears to me dat I 'sperienced it all. I 'spects knowin' 'bout
things is just 'bout as good and true as seein' them. Don't you?
"My daddy and mammy b'long to Marster Sam Louie, who had a big
plantation over in Calhoun County. He had 'bout fifty or more grown
slaves, 'sides many chillun of de slaves. Old marster was a good farmer;
raised big crops and saved what he made. He sho' was a fine business man
but he was mighty hard on everybody he had anything to do wid. He told
his slaves to work hard and make him a heap of money and that he would
keep it, in case of hard times. Times was all de time hard wid old
marster but de niggers never got no money. When news spread 'round dat
de Yankees was comin' to free de niggers, he called all de slaves up in
de yard and showed them a big sack of money, what they had made for
him, and told them dat he was gwine to kill all of them befo' de Yankees
set them free and that they wouldn't need no money after they was done
dead. All de slaves was mighty sad and troubled, all dat day, when old
marster made dat speech to them. But somethin' happened. It most makes
me tremble to talk to you 'bout it now. Providence, or some kind of
mercy spirit, was sho' walkin' 'round dat plantation dat night. Sometime
in de night it was whispered 'round amongst de slaves dat old marster
done took de smallpoxes and was mighty sick. Mammy said he must have
been terrible sick, 'cause they buried him two days after dat.
"After old marster flew away, everything was different on de plantation.
Miss Nancy, dat was old marster's wife, told de slaves dat when de
Yankees freed them, they could stay right there and work on shares or by
the day, which ever way they wanted. Many stayed on de plantation after
freedom while others went away. Me and my folks stayed on wid Miss Nancy
until she die. Then us moved on another plantation in de lower side of
de county. I stayed dere until my wife died, seventeen years ago.
"Does I 'member anything 'bout how de slaves was treated in slavery
time? Well, I 'members a little myself and a heap of what others told
me. Wid dis I has done told you, I believes I want to stop right dere. A
low fence is easier to git over than a high one. Say little and you
ain't gwine to have a heap to 'splain hereafter. Dere is a plenty of
persons dat has lost deir heads by not lettin' deir tongues rest.
Marster Sam Louie is dead now. He can't disturb nobody in his grave. He
had his faults and done many things wrong but show me dat person what
don't mis-step sometimes. All of us, both white and black, is prone to
step aside now and then. To tell de truth, old marster never knowed what
Sunday was. Everybody on de plantation worked on dat day as same as any
other day.
"But Boss, if my old marster was rough and hard and break de Sabbath and
all dat, he was no worser than what young white folks and niggers is
dese days. You can see them any time, floppin' 'bout in dese
automobiles, a drinkin' and a carryin' on. Sich stuff is abomination in
de sight of a decent person, much less dat One up yonder. (He pointed
upward).
"I's gwine to tell you boss, dat slavery time was better for de average
nigger than what they is gittin' now. Folks say dat slavery was wrong
and I 'spose it was, but to be poor like a heap of niggers is now, is de
worse thing dat has ever come upon them, I thinks. Dis gittin' something
wrong, ain't right. De North had no business sellin' niggers to de South
and de South had no business buyin' them from de North and makin' slaves
of them. Everything went on pretty nice for awhile, then de North got
jealous of de South and de South got 'spicious of de North. I believes
dat if you can't go over and you can't go under, then you should try to
go 'round. If de big men up North and here in de South had been good
'nough and smart 'nough, they might could a gone 'round dat terrible
Civil War. I believes dat.
"I marry Lucy Nelson when I was 'bout thirty years old. She was a bright
skin nigger, much brighter than I is. She was high tempered and high
spirited, too. She was sho' smart, and de best cook I has ever seen.
Just plain corn bread, dat she cooked in de hot ashes of de fireplace,
taste sweeter and better than de cake you buy now. But de least thing
would git her temper 'roused. I has knowed her to complain wid de old
hound dog us had, 'cause he didn't run some rabbits out de woods for me
to shoot. Fuss wid de cats, 'cause they didn't ketch de mouses in de
house. Quarrel wid de hens, 'cause they eat, cackled, scratched and
wallowed holes in de yard and wouldn't lay. Told de old rooster many
times dat she was gwine to chop his head off if he didn't crow sooner
and louder of mornin's and wake me up so I could go to work. All dis
sounds foolish I knows but you see how bent my back is. Well, I 'spects
it was bent from totin' so many buckets of water from de spring for her
to wash wid soon of mornin's, so I could then do a day's work.
"My wife thought she was doin' right by workin' like she did. She
thought dat she was helpin' me make a livin' for our big family of eight
chillun. Yes sir, I knows now she was right, but hard work broke her
health and brought her to her bed where she lingered 'bout one year and
then she went away from me. All dis took place seventeen years ago and,
from then to dis, I ain't seen no woman I would have for a wife, 'cause
I ain't gwine to find no woman Lucy's equal. All my chillun are dead,
'cept two, and I don't know where they is.
"Does poor folks have any blessings and pleasure? Well, yes sir, in a
way. You see they don't have no worriments over what they has, like rich
folks. They can sleep as hot as they want to in de summer time and raise
as big families as anybody. Sho', poor folks, and especially niggers,
has a good time on hog-killin' days. In early summer come them juicy
brierberries dat they enjoy so much. They last until watermelon season.
Then they has 'possum and 'tators in de fall. Most all livin' beings has
deir own way of doin' things and deir way of existin'. De hog roots for
his, de squirrel climbs for his, de chickens scratches for deirs, and de
nigger, well, if dere ain't nobody lookin', I reckon they could slip
deirs right handy.
"I sho' has enjoyed talkin' to you dis evening and now, if you will
'scuse me, I's gwine home and cook me a pot of turnips. I can almost
taste them now, I is so hungry."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=ALEXANDER ROBERTSON=
=_EX-SLAVE 84 YEARS OLD._=
Alexander Robertson lives as a member of the household of his son,
Charley, on the General Bratton plantation, four miles southeast of
White Oak, S.C. It is a box-like house, chimney in the center, four
rooms, a porch in front and morning glory vines, in bloom at this
season, climbing around the sides and supports. Does Alexander sit here
in the autumn sunshine and while the hours away? Nay, in fact he is
still one of the active, working members of the family, ever in the
fields with his grandchildren, poke around his neck, extracting fleecy
cotton from the bolls and putting it deftly into the poke. He can carry
his row equally as well as any of the six grandchildren. He has a good
appetite at meal time, digestive organs good, sleeps well, and is the
early riser in the mornings. He says the Negro half of his nature
objects to working on Saturday afternoon, and at such times his tall
figure, with a green patch cloth over the left eye, which is sightless,
may be seen strolling to and fro on the streets of Winnsboro.
"Well, well! If it ain't de youngun dat use to sell me sugar, coffee,
fat back and meal, when he clerk for Calvin Brice & Company, at
Woodward, in '84 and 'long dere.
"I hopes you is well dis mornin'. I's told to come to Winnsboro and gits
blanks for a pension. Andy Foster, man I knows, d'rect me up dese steps
and bless God I finds you. You wanna ask me some questions? Well, here I
is, more than glad to answer, if I can. Where I born? Strange as it
seems, I born right here in Winnsboro. My name set down in a book:
'Alexander-boy-mother, Hannah, wench of James Stewart'. Dat de way it
was read to me by Dr. Beaty, dat marry a Miss Cherry and live in Rock
Hill. If slavery had never been done 'way wid, dat would be my master
today, 'cause him lak hound dogs and I lak a hound dog. Dat kind of
breed got a good nose and make good 'possum dog. Marster Jim tell me one
time, dat de first dog sprung from a wolf, and dat fust dog was a hound
dog. Dat out dat fust dog, (must to a been a bitch, don't you reckon?)
come all dogs. I follow his talk wid belief, 'bout de setters, pointers,
and blood hounds, even to de fices, but it strain dat belief when it git
to de little useless hairy pup de ladies lead 'round wid a silver collar
and a shiney chain. Well, you don't care to hear anymore 'bout dat? What
is de question?
"My master at de fust, was Marster Jim Stewart and my mistress was his
wife, Mistress Clara. They have two chillun. I 'member Marster Jim and
Miss Lizzie; they live in a fine house befo' de war, 'round yonder close
to Mt. Zion College. My mother was de cook and I was de house boy. They
had a big plantation 'bout two miles out, sorta southwest of Boro, I
mean Winnsboro, of course, but de country people still call it Boro.
"On dat plantation was many two-room houses, brick chimneys in de
middle, for de plantation slaves. In de growin' season I go wid marster
every day, not to drive, too small for dat, just to hold de hoss, when
him git out and then I run errands for him, 'round de house and in de
fields.
"My mother had another child, Willie Finch. A colored man name of Finch
is his father but her and de white folks never tell me who my father
was. I have to find out dat for myself, after freedom, when I was
lookin' 'round for a name. From all I hear and 'pear in de lookin'
glass, I see I was half white for sure, and from de things I hear, I
conclude I was a Robertson which have never been denied. Maybe it best
just to give no front names. Though half a nigger, I have tried to live
up to dat name, never took it in dat court house over yonder, never
took it in dat jail or dat calaboose. I's paid my debts dollar for
dollar and owe no man nothin' but good will.
"What de Yankees do when they come? Let other people tell dat, but seem
lak they lay de whole town in ashes, 'cept de college and our house
close to it, dat they use for de officers while they was in Boro. Why
they hear sumpin' bout de Davis name techin' de St. John 'Piscopal
Church and they march 'round dere, one cold February Sunday mornin', set
it afire, and burn it up. Mother and me went to de plantation and stayed
dere 'til they left.
"When freedom come, I was twelve years old. Mother marry a Finch; Bill
was de name of him. Our nex' move was to Dr. Madden's place, just north
of Boro. Us farm up dere and I do de hoein'. I live dere thirteen years.
I got to feelin' my oats and tired of workin' for a plum black nigger, I
did. Maybe I ought to been more humble but I wasn't.
"I ask myself one night: 'What you gonna do, stay here forever for your
vittles and clothes?' Then come over my mind I old 'nough for to marry.
Who I gwine to marry? It pop right in dis head, Sarah was de gal for me.
I rode old Beck down dere de nex' Sunday; dat was in December. I come
right to de point wid her and de old folks. They 'low they have no
objections if I could take care of her. I say I try to. They say: 'Dat
ain't 'nough, 'range yourself for another year and then come and git
her'.
"De Lord directs me. I's down here payin' my poll, too. Marster Tom
Shanty Brice come in as us come out. I ask him if he need a hand for
nex' year. He look me up from top to bottom and say: 'What's your name?'
I show him my tax receipt. He hire me than and dere. I go right straight
to Sarah and us tell de old folks. Rev. Gordon marry us de 29th of
January, 1879. Us has seven chillun. Alex, dat's de one name for me, is
in Tampa, Florida. Carrie marry a Coleman and is in Charlotte, N.C.
Jimmie is dead. Thomas is in Charleston, S.C. Emma marry a Belton and
lives wid her husband in Ridgeway, S.C. I stay wid my son, Charley, up
de country.
"I voted one time in 1876, for Gov. Chamberlain, but when I moved to
Marster Tom Brice's I thought so much of him, I just quit voting. I
would lak to vote one more time to say: 'I have vote one time wid de
black part of my nature, dis time I votes wid de white side of my
nature.' What you laughin' 'bout? If it was de call of dark blood de
fust time, maybe it's de call of de white blood dis time. You have no
idea de worry and de pain a mulatto have to carry all his eighty-four
years. Forced to 'sociate wid one side, proud to be related to de other
side. Neither side lak de color of your skin. I jine de Methodist church
here in Boro and 'tend often as I can and as I hear my preacher Owens
preach, dat dere will be no sex in hebben, I hopes and prays dat dere'll
be no sich thing as a color line in hebben.
"Who de best white men I ever know? Mr. Tom Brice, Mr. W.L. Rosborough,
Mr. Watt Sinonton, and Mr. August Nicholson. Master Bill Beaty, dat
marry my young mistress, Elizabeth, was a fine man.
"What I think of Abe Lincoln? What I think of Mr. Roosevelt? Dere de
color come up again. De black say Mr. Lincoln de best President us ever
have; de white say us never have had and never will have a President
equal of Mr. Roosevelt."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=CHARLIE ROBINSON=
=_EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD._=
Charlie Robinson lives nine miles northwest of Winnsboro, S.C., on lands
of Mr. R.W. Lemmon. There is one other occupant in the four-room house,
John Giles, a share cropper. The house has two fireplaces, the brick
chimney being constructed in the center of the two main rooms. The other
two rooms are shed rooms. Charlie ekes out a living as a day laborer on
the farm.
"They been tellin' me to come to de social circle and see 'bout my
pension but I never is got dere. It been so hot, I hate to hotfoot it
nine miles to Winnsboro and huff dat same distance back on a hot summer
day.
"Glad you come out here but sorry of de day, 'cause it is a Friday and
all de jay-birds go to see de devil dat day of de week. It's a bad day
to begin a garment, or quilt or start de lye hopper or 'simmon beer keg
or just anything important to yourself on dat day. Dere is just one good
Friday in de year and de others is given over to de devil, his imps, and
de jay-birds. Does I believe all dat? I believes it 'nough not to patch
dese old breeches 'til tomorrow and not start my 'simmon beer, when de
frost fall on them dis fall, on a Friday.
"You wants me to set down so you can ask me sumpin'? I'll do dat! Of
course I will! (He proceeded to do so--wiping his nose on his sleeve and
sprawling down on the doorsill). My pappy name George, black George they
call him in slavery time, 'cause dere was a small yallow slave on de
place, named George. My mammy name Ca'line. My pappy b'long to de
McNeals and my mammy b'long to Marse Joe Beard. His wife was my
mistress. Her name Miss Gracie. 'Nitials? Dat sumpin' not in my lingo,
Boss. You want to know what my pappy's old marster name? Seem to me they
call him Marse Gene, though it been so long I done forgot. When my
marster went to de war him got a ball through his leg. Bad treatment of
dat leg give him a limp for de balance of his days. White folks call him
'Hoppin' Joe Beard' and sometime 'Lopin' Joe'.
"Marster and mistress have two chillun. I play marbles wid them and make
mud pies. Deir names was Marse Willie and Miss Rhoda.
"My brudders and sisters was Jeff, Roland, Jane and Fannie. All dead
'cept Fannie. Her marry a big, long nigger name Saul Griffin. Last I
heard of them, they was livin' in Columbia, S.C.
"I start workin' in de field de second year of de war, 1862. It sho'
made me hungry. I 'members now, how I'd git a big tin cupful of pot
liquor from de greens, crumble corn bread in it at dinner time and 'joy
it as de bestest part of de dinner. Us no suffer for sumpin' to eat. I
go all summer in my shirt-tail and in de winter I have to do de best I
can, widout any shoes. Ever since then, I just lak to go barefooted as
you sees me now.
"My pappy git a pass and come to see mammy every Saturday night. My
marster had just four slave houses on de place. 'Spect him have 'bout
eight women, dat men come from other places to see and marry them and
have chillun. I doesn't 'member nary one of de women havin' a husband
livin' wid her every night.
"Who do de plowin'? Women and boys do de plowin'. Had good 'nough
houses, though they was made of logs, 'cup and saddled' at both ends,
and covered wid white oak board shingles. Had stick and mud chimneys.
"De Yankees made a clean sweep of everything, hosses, mules, cows, hogs,
meat and 'lasses. Got so mad when they couldn't find any salt, they burn
up everything. Pull Marse Joe's beard, just 'cause him name Beard. De
one dat do dat was just a smart aleck and de cap'n of de crowd shame
him and make him slink 'way, out de house.
"When freedom come, Marse Joe stay one year, then leave. Sell out and
move to Walhalla and us move to pappy on de McNeal place. Dat year us
all jined de church, Union Church. I now b'longs to New Hope Methodist
Church. Us nex' move to Mr. Bill Crawford's place. Mr. Crawford got to
be school commissioner on de 'publican ticket and white folks call him
scalawag. Him have pappy and all de colored folks go to de 'lection box
and vote. Ku Klux come dere one night and whip every nigger man they
could lay deir hands on. Things quiet down then but us no more go to de
'lection box and vote.
"'Bout dis time thoughts of de gals got in my head and feets at de same
time. I was buyin' a biled shirt and celluloid collar, in Mr. Sailing
Wolf's store, one Saturday, and in walked Ceily Johnson. I commence to
court her right then and dere, befo' I ever git inside dat shirt and
collar. Her have dark skin and was good to look at, I tell you. I
de-sash-shay 'bout dat gal, lak a chicken rooster spread his wing 'round
a pretty black pullet, 'til I wear out her indifference and her make me
happy by marryin' me. Her was too good lookin' and too bad doin',
though, for me. She left by de light of de moon when us was livin' on de
Cummings place, 'bove town. Excuse me now, dat's still a fresh subject
of torment to me. Let's talk 'bout chances of gittin' dat pension, when
I can git another clean white shirt, lay 'round de white folks again,
and git dis belly full of pot liquor."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon.=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=AL ROSBORO=
=_EX-SLAVE 90 YEARS OLD._=
Al Rosboro, with his second wife, Julia, a daughter, and six small
grandchildren, lives in a three-room frame house, three hundred yards
east of the Southern Railway track and US #21, about two miles south of
Woodward, S.C., in Fairfield County. Mr. Brice gives the plot of ground,
four acres with the house, to Al, rent free. A white man, Mr. W.L.
Harvey does the ploughing of the patches for him. Al has cataracts on
his eyes and can do no work. Since this story was written he has
received his first old age pension check of eight dollars from the
Social Welfare Board in Columbia, S.C.
"Does I know what a nonagenarian is? No seh, what dat? Old folks? Well,
dats a mighty long name and I been here a mighty long time. Glad you say
it's a honor and a privilege by de mercy of de Lord. I's thankful! You
wants to know where I was born and who my white folks then?
"I was born just one and a half mile b'low White Oak, S.C., on de old
Marse Billie Brice place. My pappy b'long to old Miss Jennie Rosboro,
but mammy b'long to Marse William Brice. Her name Ann. My old mistress
name Mary, daughter of de Simontons, on Dumpers Creek.
"You wants de fust thing I 'members, then travel 'long de years 'til I
come to settin' right here in dis chair. Well, reckon us git through
today? Take a powerful sight of dat pencil to put it all down.
"Let me see. Fust thing I 'members well, was a big crowd wid picks and
shovels, a buildin' de railroad track right out de other side of de big
road in front of old marster's house. De same railroad dat is dere
today. When de fust engine come through, puffin' and tootin', lak to
scare 'most everybody to death. People got use to it but de mules and
bosses of old marster seem lak they never did. A train of cars a movin'
'long is still de grandest sight to my eyes in de world. Excite me more
now than greyhound busses, or airplanes in de sky ever do.
"I nex' 'members my young misses and young marsters. Dere was Marse
John; he was kilt in de war. Marse Jim, dat went to de war, come back,
marry, and live right here in Winnsboro. Marse Jim got a grandson dat am
in de army a sailin' air-ships. Then dere was Marse William; he moved
off. One of de gals marry a Robertson, I can't 'member her name, tho' I
help her to make mud pies many a day and put them on de chicken coop, in
de sun, to dry. Her had two dolls; deir names was Dorcas and Priscilla.
When de pies got dry, she'd take them under de big oak tree, fetch out
de dolls and talk a whole lot of child mother talk 'bout de pies, to de
Dorcas and Priscilla rag dolls. It was big fun for her tho' and I can
hear her laugh right now lak she did when she mince 'round over them
dolls and pies. Dere was some poor folks livin' close by and she'd send
me over to 'vite deir chillun over to play wid her. They was name
Marshall. Say they come from Virginny and was kin to de highest judge in
de land. They was poor but they was proud. Mistress felt sorry for them
but they wouldn't 'cept any help from her.
"Well, when I git twelve years old, marster give me to his son, Marse
Calvin, and give Marse Calvin a plantation dat his son, Homer, live on
now. I 'member now old marster's overseer comin' to de field; his name
was McElduff. Him say: 'Al, Marse William say come to de house'. I goes
dere on de run. When I git dere, him 'low: 'Calvin, I wants you to take
Al, I give him to you. Al, you take good care of your young marster'. I
always did and if Marse Calvin was livin' he'd tell you de same.
"I forgit to tell you one thing dat happen down dere befo' I left. Dere
was a powerful rich family down dere name Cockrell; I forgits de fust
name. Him brudder tho', was sheriff and live in Winnsboro. Dere was a
rich Mobley family dat live jinin' him, two miles sunrise side of him.
One day de Cockrell cows got out and played thunder wid Mr. Mobley's
corn. Mr. Mobley kilt two of de cows. Dat made de Cockrells mad. They
too proud to go to law 'bout it; they just bide deir time. One day Marse
Ed Mobley's mules got out, come gallopin' 'round and stop in de Cockrell
wheat field. Him take his rifle and kill two of them mules. Dat made Mr.
Mobley mad but him too proud to go to law 'bout it. De Mobley's just
bide deir time. 'Lection come 'round for sheriff nex' summer. No
Cockrell was 'lected sheriff dat time. You ask Mr. Hugh Wylie 'bout dat
nex' time him come to de Boro. Him tell you all 'bout it.
"Dat call to my mind another big man, dat live 'bove White Oak then,
Marse Gregg Cameron. He was powerful rich, wid many slaves. Him lak to
bar-room and drink. Him come by marster's house one day, fell off his
hoss and de hoss gallop on up de road. Dat was de fust drunk man I ever
see. Marster didn't know what to do; him come into de house and ask
Mistress Mary. Him tell her him didn't want to scandal de chillun. She
say: 'What would de good Samaritan do?' Old marster go back, fetch dat
groanin', cussin', old man and put him to bed, bathe his head, make Sam,
de driver, hitch up de buggy, make West go wid him, and take Marse Gregg
home. I never see or hear tell of dat white man anymore, 'til one day
after freedom when I come down here to Robinson's Circus. Him drop dead
dat day at de parade, when de steam piano come 'long a tootin'. 'Spect
de 'citement, steam, and tootin', was too much for him.
"Niggers never learn to read and write. It was 'ginst de law. White
folks fear they would write deir passes and git 'way to de free states.
"Us slaves 'tend Concord Church, tho' Marse Calvin jine de Seceders and
'tend New Hope. Why us go to Concord? 'Cause it too far to walk to New
Hope and not too far to walk to Concord. Us have not 'nough mules for
all to ride, and then de mules need a rest. I now b'longs to Bethany
Presbyterian Church at White Oak. Yes sah, I thinks everybody ought to
jine de church for it's de railroad train to git to hebben on.
"Marse Calvin went to de war. Him got shot thru de hand. Yankees come
and burn up everything him have. Wheeler's men just as bad.
"After freedom I got mannish. Wid not a drop of blood in me but de pure
African, I sets out to find a mate of de pure breed. 'Bout de onliest
place I could find one of dis hatchin', was de Gaillard quarter. I marry
Gabrielle. Live fust years at de Walt Brice McCullough place, then move
to de Vinson place, then to de preacher Erwin place. Dat was a fine
preacher, him pastor for Concord. Him lak to swap hosses. When him come
down out de pulpit him looks 'round, see a hoss him lak, soon as not him
go home to dinner wid de owner of dat hoss. After dinner him say: 'If it
wasn't de Sabbath, how would you trade dat hoss for my hoss?' More words
pass between them, just supposin' all de time it was Monday. Then Mr.
Erwin ride back dere nex' day and come back wid de hoss him took a fancy
for.
"Mr. Erwin move when he git a call to Texas. I moves to de Bob Sinonton
place. From dere I goes to de Jim Brice place, now owned by young Marse
James Brice. I been dere 32 years. Gabrielle and me generate thirteen
chillun, full blooded natural born Africans, seven boys and six gals.
Then Gabrielle die and I marry Julia Jenkins. Us have five chillun, one
boy and four gals. I's done a heap for my country. I wants Mr. Roosevelt
to hear 'bout dat; then maybe him make de country do sumpin' for me."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=TOM ROSBORO=
=_EX-SLAVE 79 YEARS OLD._=
Tom Rosboro lives with his daughter, Estelle Perry, in a three-room
frame house, on Cemetery Street, Winnsboro, S.C. The house stands on a
half-acre plot that is used for garden truck. Estelle owns the fee in
the house and lot. Tom peddles the truck, eggs, and chickens, in the
town and the suburban Winnsboro mill village.
"My pappy was name Tom, just lak I is name Tom. My mammy was name Sarah
but they didn't b'long to de same marster. Pappy b'long to old Marse
Eugene McNaul. Mammy b'long to old Marse John Propst. De ownership of de
child followed de mammy in them days. Dat throwed me to be a slave of
old Marse John Propst.
"My young marsters was name Marse Johnnie, Marse Clark, Marse Floyd, and
Marse Wyatt. I had two young misses. Miss Elizabeth marry a McElroy and
Miss Mamie marry a Landecker. You know Marse Ernest Propst dat run dat
ladies' garment store and is a member of de Winnsboro Town Council? Yes?
Well, dat is one of Marse Floyd Propst chillun.
"I hear mammy say dat daddy's mistress was name Miss Emma but her
mistress and my mistress was name Miss Margaret. My daddy have to have a
pass every time he come to see mammy. Sometime they give him a general
pass for de year. Sometime him lose de pass and then such a gwine on you
never did see de lak. Make more miration (hullabaloo) over it than if
they had lost one of de chillun. They was scared de patarollers
(patrollers) would come ketch him, and lay de leather whip on his naked
back. He wouldn't dare stay long. Him would go back soon, not on de big
road but through de woods and fields, so as not to meet de patarollers.
"Who was my brothers and sisters and where is they? Brother Ben and
Sister Mamie is dead and in glory. Dat's all de chillun mammy had a
chance to have, 'cause she was a good woman and would never pay any
'tention to de men slaves on de Propst place. Her was faithful to pappy
through thick and thin, whichever it be.
"I doesn't 'member much 'bout de Yankees, though I does 'members de Ku
Klux. They visit pappy's house after freedom, shake him, and threaten
dat, if him didn't quit listenin' to them low-down white trash scalawags
and carpetbaggers, they would come back and whale de devil out of him,
and dat de Klan would take notice of him on 'lection day.
"When I was 'bout seventeen years old, I come to de Boro (Winnsboro) one
Saturday evenin' and seen a tall willowy gal, black she was but shiny,
puttin' them foots of her'n down on de pavement in a pretty gamecock
pullet kind of way, as if to say: 'Roosters look at me.' I goes over to
Mr. Landecker's store, de Mr. Landecker dat marry Miss Mamie Propst, and
I begs him to give me a cigar. I lights dat cigar and puts out after
her. I ketches up wid her just as she was comin' out of Mr. Sailing
Wolfe's Jew store. I brush up 'ginst her and say: 'Excuse me lady.' Her
say: 'I grants your pardon, Mister. I 'spects smoke got in your eyes and
you didn't see me.' I say: 'Well, de smoke is out of my eyes now and
they will never have sight for any other gal but you as long as I live.'
Black as she was, her got red in de face and say: 'Who is you?' I say:
'Tom Rosboro. What might be your name, lovely gal?' Her say: 'My name is
Mattie Nelson.' I say: 'Please to meet you, Sugar Plum.' Her say: 'I
live down at Simpson's Turnout. Glad to have you come down to see me
sometime.' After dat us kep' a meetin' in Winnsboro, every Saturday,
'til one day us went 'round to Judge Jno. J. Neils' law office and him
married us. Me and Mat have our trials and tribulations and has went up
and down de hills in all kind of weather. Us never ceased to bless dat
day dat I run into her at Mr. Sailing Wolfe's store.
"How come I name Rosboro? I just picked it up as a mighty pretty name.
Sound better than Propst or McNaul and de Rosboro white folks was big
buckra in dat time.
"Us had lots of chillun; raise some and lost some. I have a son,
Charlie, dat's a barber in Washington, D.C. Lucy, a daughter, marry Tank
Hill. Nan marry Banks Smith. Estelle marry Jim Perry but her is a widow
now. Her bought a house and lot wid de insurance money from Dr. McCants.
She has a nice house on Cemetery Street, wid water and 'lectric lights.
Her got four chillun. When my wife die, two years ago, I move in wid
Estelle and her four chillun. Her make money by washin' and ironin' for
de white folks. Me and de chillun picks cotton and 'tends to de makin'
and de peddlin' of garden truck and sich lak. Ah, us is a happy family
but I ain't 'bove usin' some of dat old age pension money, if I can git
it."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=INTERVIEW WITH
REUBEN ROSBOROUGH, RIDGEWAY, S.C.=,
=_EX-SLAVE--82 YEARS, 3 MONTHS OLD_=
"No sir, I can 'member nothin' 'bout de State of Verginny, where pappy
said us was born. He told me, when I was 'bout two years old he and
mammy Kitty was took from somewhar in dat state to Richmond, wid de
understandin' to sell us as a family, and to give a man name Johnson, de
preference. He say de trader couldn't find de man Johnson, and sold us
to my marster, John Rosborough. My pappy name William, my brothers, Tom
and Willie and my sisters, Mary and Alice.
"My marster was a kind and tender man to slaves. You see a man love
hosses and animals? Well, dat's de way he love us, though maybe in
bigger portion, I 'low. Marster John never marry. Set down dere dat he
was good enough to buy my old gran' mammy Mary, though she never could
do much work.
"Us knowed dat our gran'pappy was a white man back in Verginny, but dat
was her secret, dat she kept locked in her breast and carried it wid her
to de grave. You say I's very light color myself? So I is, so was she,
so was pappy. Ease your mind, us had none of de white Rosborough in us.
Us come on one side from de F.F.V's. I's proud of dat, and you can put
down dere dat deres no poor white trash blood in dese old veins, too.
"De last part of de war I worked some in de field, but not enough to
hurt. My Marster was a Presbyterian, b'longed to Aimwell Church. Two or
three acres in cemetery dere now, but they done move de church into de
town of Ridgeway.
"Money was not worshipped then like it is now. Not much use of it.
Marster raised all we eat and made all we wear right dere on de place,
'bout five miles north of Ridgeway.
"I guess Marster John had forty slaves. Us live in two-story log house
wid plank floor. Marster John die, us 'scend to his brother Robert and
his wife Mistress Mary. I played wid her chillun. Logan was one and
Janie the other. My marster and mistress was good to me. I use to drive
de mules to de cotton gin. All I had to do was to set on de long beam
and crack my whip every now and then, and de mules would go 'round and
'round. Dere was three hundred and seventy-six acres in dat place. I own
part of it today. I b'longs to Good Hope Church. I sure believes in de
Lord, and dat His mercies is from everlastin' to everlastin' to them dat
fears Him.
"'Member but little 'bout de war for freedom, 'cept dat some of de
slaves of marster was sent to de front to use pick and shovel to throw
up breast works, and things of dat nature. My pappy was de foreman and
stayed at home, carry on whilst Marster Robert go.
"'Deed I recollects 'bout de Yankees. They come and ask my pappy, de
foreman, where was de mules and hosses hid out? Pappy say he don't know,
he didn't carry them off. They find out a boy dat knowed; make him tell,
and they went and got de mules and hosses. They took everything and
left.
"Doctor Scott was our doctor. Dere was in them days lots of
rattlesnakes; had to be keerful of them. Then us hear lots and had lots
of chills and fever. They found de remedy, but they was way off 'bout
what make them come on you. Some 'low it was de miasma dat de devil
bring 'round you from de swamp and settle 'round your face whilst you
sleep, and soon as he git you to snore you sniffed it to your liver,
lights and gall, then dat make bile, and then you was wid de chills a
comin' every other day and de fever all de day. Marster Doctor Hayne
done find out dat de skeeter bring de fever and de chills, and funny,
he 'low dat it is de female skeeter bite dat does de business. You
believe dat? I didn't at first, 'til old Doctor Lindor tell me dat it
was no harder to believe than dat all disease come into de world when a
female bite a apple in de garden of Eden.
"I think Mr. Lincoln was raised up by de Lord, just like Moses, to free
a 'culiar people. I think Mr. Roosevelt is de Joshua dat come after him.
No president has done as much for de poor of both races as de one now
president. God bless him and 'stain him in his visions and work to bring
de kingdom of heaven into and upon de earth."
=Project #-1655=
=C.S. Murray=
=Charleston, S.C.=
=Approx. 430 Words.=
=GOING DOWN TO DIE=
(=FOLKLORE=)
=STORY TOLD BY EX-SLAVE=
Boss Man, you talk about de brave soldier who been in de last big war
and how dey look death in de eye and spit on him. I ain't see dat war.
It been 'cross de water. But I know sump'en 'bout de Civil War. I been
young lad when de big gun shoot and de Yankee pile down from de north.
Talk 'bout being brave. De bravest thing I ever see was one day at
Ashepoo junction. Dat was near de end of de war. Grant was standing up
before Richmond; Sherman was marching tump-tump through Georgia. I was a
stripling lad den and boy-like I got to see and hear everything. One day
more than all, de overseer sent my pappy to Ashepoo junction to get de
mail. I gone 'long wid him. Seem like I jest had to go dat day.
I member dat morning well. When I get to de junction de train start to
come in. What a lot of train! De air fair smoke up wid dem. They come
shouting in from Charleston, bound up-country.
I stand wid my pappy near de long trestle, and see de train rock by. One
enjine in front pulling one in de back pushing, pushing, pushing. De
train load down wid soldier. They thick as peas. Been so many a whole
ton been riding on de car roof. They shout and holler. I make big amaze
to see such a lot of soldier--all going down to die.
And they start to sing as they cross de trestle. One pick a banjo, one
play de fiddle. They sing and whoop, they laugh; they holler to de
people on de ground, and sing out, "Good-bye." All going down to die.
And it seem to me dat is de most wonderful sight I ever see. All them
soldier, laughing light, singing and shouting dat way, and all riding
fast to battle.
One soldier man say in a loud voice: "Well, boys we going to cut de
Yankee throat. We on our way to meet him and he better tremble. Our gun
greeze up, and our bayonet sharp. Boys we going to eat our dinner in
hell today."
I turn to my pappy and ax him how can man act like dat when they going
down to die. He answer me: "Dat ain't nutting. They n'use to dat. Ain't
you know soldier different?"
But I say: "Pappy, you hear dem talk 'bout eat dinner in hell?"
He answer me back: "They been in de army 'long time. They don't study
hell anymore."
De train still rumble by. One gang of soldier on de top been playing
card. I see um hold up de card as plain as day, when de luck fall right.
They going to face bullet, but yet they play card, and sing and laugh
like they in their own house ... All going down to die.
De train pull 'cross de trestle. I stand up and watch um till he go out
of sight 'round de bend. De last thing I hear is de soldier laugh and
sing ... All going down to die.
SOURCE: Interview with William Rose, 80, ex-slave of Edisto Island,
S.C., in 1936.
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=BENJAMIN RUSSELL=
=_EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS._=
"I was born fourteen miles north of Chester, S.C. the property of Mrs.
Rebecca Nance. After eighty-eight years, I have a vivid recollection of
her sympathy and the ideal relations she maintained with her slaves.
"My father was just Baker, my mother just Mary. My father was bought out
of a drove of slaves from Virginia. I have been told my mother was born
on the Youngblood place. (Youngblood name of my mistress' people in York
County.) My father was a slave of a Mr. Russell and lived two or three
miles from the Nance place, where mother lived. He could only visit her
on a written pass. As he was religiously inclined, dutiful and faithful
as a slave, my mother encouraged the relation that included a slave
marriage between my father and mother. My mother in time, had a log
house for herself and children. We had beds made by the plantation's
carpenter. As a boy I remember plowing from sun to sun, with an hour's
intermission for dinner, and feeding the horses.
"Money? Yes, sometimes white folks and visitors would give me coppers,
3-cent pieces, and once or twice dimes. Used them to buy extra clothing
for Sundays and fire crackers and candy, at Christmas. We had good food.
In the busy seasons on the farm the mistress saw to it that the slaves
were properly fed, the food cooked right and served from the big
kitchen. We were given plenty of milk and sometimes butter. We were
permitted to have a fowl-house for chickens, separate from the white
folks. We wore warm clothes and stout brogan shoes in winter; went
barefooted from April until November and wore cotton clothes in summer.
The master and some of the women slaves spun the thread, wove the cloth
and made the clothes. My mother lived in a two-story farm house. Her
children were: William, Mattie and Thomas. We never had an overseer on
the place. Sometimes she'd whip the colored children, but only when it
was needed for correction.
"Yes, sir, I went with my young master, William, to Chester Court House,
and saw slaves put on a block and auctioned off to the highest bidder,
just like land or mules and cattle. Did we learn to read and write? We
were taught to read, but it was against the law to teach a slave to
write. The Legislature passed an act to that effect. A number of cases
in which slaves could write, the slave would forge a pass and thereby
get away to free territory. They had a time getting them back. On one
occasion I run in on my young master, William, teaching my Uncle Reuben
how to write. They showed their confusion.
"All slaves were compelled to attend church on Sunday. A gallery around
the interior of the church, contained the blacks. They were permitted to
join in the singing. Favorite preacher? Well, I guess my favorite
preacher was Robert Russell. He was allowed sometimes to use the white
folks school, which wasn't much in those days, just a little log house
to hold forth in winter. In summer he got permission to have a brush
arbor of pine tops, where large numbers came. Here they sang Negro
spirituals. I remember one was called: 'Steal away to Jesus.'
"Runaway slaves? Yes, we had one woman who was contrary enough to run
away: Addie, she run off in the woods. My mistress hired her out to the
McDonald family. She came back and we had to pelt and drive her away.
"How did we get news? Many plantations were strict about this, but the
greater the precaution the alerter became the slaves, the wider they
opened their ears and the more eager they became for outside
information. The sources were: Girls that waited on the tables, the
ladies' maids and the drivers; they would pick up everything they heard
and pass it on to the other slaves.
"Saturday afternoons? These were given to women to do the family
washing, ironing, etc., and the men cut fire wood, or worked in the
garden, and special truck crops. Christmas? Christmas was a holiday, but
the fourth of July meant very little to the slave people. Dances? There
was lots of dancing. It was the pastime of the slave race. The children
played shimmy and other games, imitating the white children, sometimes
with the white folks.
"The master and mistress were very particular about the slave girls. For
instance, they would be driving along and pass a girl walking with a
boy. When she came to the house she would be sent for and questioned
something like this: 'Who was that young man? How come you with him?
Don't you ever let me see you with that ape again. If you cannot pick a
mate better than that I'll do the picking for you.' The explanation: The
girl must breed good strong serviceable children.
"No, I never saw a ghost, but there was a general belief among the race
in ghosts, spirits, haunts and conjuration. Many believe in them yet. I
can never forget the fright of the time my young master, William was
going off to the war. The evening before he went, a whippoorwill lighted
on the window sill and uttered the plaintive 'whip-poor-will.' All the
slaves on the place were frightened and awed and predicted bad luck to
Master Will. He took sick in war and died, just wasted away. He was
brought back in rags toward the end of the struggle.
"Mistress always gave the slaves a big dinner on New Year's Day and
talked to us out of the catechism. She impressed on us after dinner that
time, that we were free. Some were sorry, some hurt, but a few were
silent and glad. I and many of the others had been well treated. When we
were sick she visited us and summoned a doctor the first thing, but the
remedies those days were castor oil, quinine, turpentine, mustard
plaster and bleeding."
=Project 1885 -1-=
=District #4=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=May 29, 1937=
=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVE=
"I was born about 1846, 'cause I was in de war and was 19 years old when
de war was over. I went to Charleston with my master, Ros Atwood, my
mistress's brother. My mistress was Mrs. Laura Rutherford and my master
at home was Dr. Thomas Rutherford. We was on Morris Island.
"My father was Allen Rutherford and my mother Barbara Rutherford. My
daddy had come from Chili to this country, was a harness maker, and
belonged awhile to Nichols. We had a good house or hut to live in, and
my work was to drive cows till I was old 'nough to work in de fields,
when I was 13. Then I plowed, hoed cotton, and hoed corn 'till last year
of war and den went to Charleston.
"Master paid us no money for work. We could hunt and fish, and got lots
of game around there. We had dogs but our master didn't like hounds.
"Col. Daryton Rutherford, doct's son, had me for a 'pet' on the place.
They had overseers who was sometimes bossy but they wouldn't allow dem
to whip me. One old nigger named 'Isom', who come from Africa, was
whipped mighty bad one day. The padderollers whip me one night when I
went off to git a pair of shoes for an old lady and didn't git a pass. I
was 16 years old then.
"Doctor Rutherford had several farms--I reckon around 2,000 acres of
land. We didn't have church nor school but sometimes we had to go to de
white folks church and set in the gallery. We didn't learn to read and
write. The mistress learnt some of de nigger chaps to read and write a
little.
"We had Saturday afternoons off to wash up and clean up. When Christmas
come the doctor would give us good things to eat. When we was sick he
give us medicine, but some of de old folks would make hot teas from root
herbs.
"We had old time corn-shuckings before and after freedom. We made sure
enough corn den and lots of it--had four cribs full. When freedom come,
the old man had fallen off a block and was hurt, so one of de overseers
told us we was free and could go if we wanted to. Some of dem stayed on
and some got in the big road and never stopped walking. Then we worked
for 1/3 share of the crops; had our little patch to work, too.
"I was 31 years old when I married first time. Was living in Mollohon.
Her name was Leana and she belonged to Madison Brooks's family, as
waiting girl. I was married twice, but had 13 children all by my first
wife. I have 14 grandchildren, and so many great-grandchildren I can't
count them.
"When de Ku Klux was in dat country I lived wid a man who was one of
them. The first I knew about it was when I went down to de mill, de mule
throwed me and de meal, and down de road I went to running and met a Ku
Klux. It was him.
"I think Abe Lincoln and Jeff Davis good men, but don't know much about
dem.
"I join de church when I was 68 years old 'cause God sent me to do it. I
believe all ought to join church."
SOURCE: Joe Rutherford (92), Newberry, S.C.; Interviewer: G. Leland
Summer, Newberry, S.C.
=Project 1885 -1-=
=District #4=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=June 7, 1937=
=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVE=
"I was born about 1849 in the Dutch Fork section of Newberry County,
S.C. I was slave of Ivey Suber and his good wife. My daddy was Bill
Suber and my mammy was Mary Suber. I was hired by Marse Suber as a nurse
in the big house, and I waited on my mistress when she was sick, and was
at her bed when she died. I had two sisters and a brother and when we
was sold they went to Mr. Suber's sister and I stayed with him.
"My master was good to his slaves. He give them plenty to eat, good
place to sleep and plenty of clothes. The young men would hunt lots,
rabbits, possums, and birds. My white folks had a big garden and we had
eats from it. They was good cooks, too, and lived good. We card and spin
and weave our own clothes on mistress's spinning wheels.
"Marse Suber had one overseer who was good to us. We went to work at
sun-up and worked 'till sun-down, none of us worked at night. We
sometimes got a whipping when we wouldn't work or do wrong, but it
wasn't bad.
"We never learned to read and write. We had no church and no school on
the plantation, but we could go to the white folk's church and sit in
the gallery. Some of us was made to go, and had to walk 10 miles. Of
course, we never thought much about walking that far. I joined the
church because I was converted; I think everybody ought to join the
church.
"The patrollers rode 'round and ketched slaves who ran away without
passes. They never bothered us. When our work was over at night, we
stayed home, talked and went to sleep. On Saturday afternoons white
folks sometimes give us patches of ground to work, and we could wash up
then, too. We raised corn on the patches and some vegetables. On Sunday
we just rested and went to neighbor's house or to church. On Christmas
we had big eats.
"Corn-shuckings and cotton-pickings always had suppers when work was
done. Master made whiskey up at his sister's place, and at these suppers
he had whiskey to give us.
"When we was sick we had a doctor--didn't believe much in root teas.
"I married when I was 15 years old at a white man's place, Mr. Sam
Cannon's. A negro man named Jake Cannon married us. Supper was give us
by Mr. Sam Cannon after it was over.
"When freedom came, my mother moved away, but I stayed on.
"I think Abraham Lincoln was a good man, and Jeff Davis was a good man.
I don't know anything about Booker Washington."
SOURCE: Lila Rutherford (86), Newberry, S.C., RFD
Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St.,
Newberry, S.C.
=Project #-1655=
=Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler=
=Murrells Inlet, S.C.=
=Georgetown County=
=FOLKLORE=
=Uncle Sabe Rutledge=
(=Testimony given by old man born 1861, The Ark Plantation.
Horry County--owned by Mr. John Tillman=)
"Fust thing I realize to remember, I nuster cry to go to the old
boss--old Massa--for sugar. Massa say:
"'Martha, what Newman (he call me that) crying for?' Ma say, 'Wanter
come to you for sugar!'
"'Bring the boy here, Martha!'
"He gi'e me sugar.
"Boil salt? Pump! Pump! Pump it! Had a tank. Run from hill to sea. Had a
platform similar to wharf. And pump on platform. Fetch good high. Go out
there on platform. Force pump. My Grandmother boil salt way after
Freedom. We tote water. Tote in pidgin and keeler--make out of cedar and
cypress. No 'ting to crove 'em (groove 'em) compass. Dog-wood and oak
rim. Give it a lap. (This was his description, with pantomime, of the
way pidgin and keelers were made by plantation carpenters)
"My Grandmother had two pots going. Boil all day and all night. Biling.
Boil till he ticken (thicken) Cedar paddles stir with. Chillun eat with
wooden spoons. Clay pot? Just broken piece. Indian had big camping
ground on beach near the Ark. After big blow you can find big piece of
pot there. I see Indian. Didn't see wild one; see tame one.
"Indigo? Old man Lashie Tillman nuster plant indigo. Seed lak a flax.
Put myrtle seed in with indigo to boil. Gather and boil for the traffic.
All the big folkses plant that fore the rice. Rice come in circulation,
do way with indigo. Nuster (used to) farm indigo just like we work our
corn. Didn't have nothing but ox. And the colored folks--they came next
to the ox--Hill keep advancing out. Reckon you wouldn't blieve it, but I
ken cummember (Uncle Sabe stutters a bit) when all that beach been
cultivate field. Must be nature for sand hill to move. Time most got too
fast now for the people to live.
"Storm? Oh my Lord! Flagg Storm? Sea naturally climb right over that
hill like it wasn't nothing. Water come to King Road. Reckon it would a
come further if the wind didn't shift.
"Calls this 'The Ridge.' Why? I first man settle here. Oak Ridge. (It is
the highest land between the Waccamaw river and the ocean.) Just name it
so.
"Member the shipwreck. Two men and lady come to the Ark. Stormy time.
Massa take them to town. Old anchor there now. Come a blow you kin see
it. Water rise over it high tide.
"Ma tell me bout they had the to-do. Blockade at Inlet. Had 'em out to
drill (The Yankees came to shore to drill.) Old man John Tillman lose
all he China-a-way! (chinaware.) Every bit of his china and paints
(panes of glass) out the window. Yankee gun boat sojer (soldier) to
Magnolia to drill. They tack 'em (attacked 'em) to cut 'em off. When
Rebs tack 'em, small boats gone back. She had to brace 'em. Shoot dem
shell to brace. (Gun boat fired to frighten Rebs who were cutting
Yankees off from escape) I hear old man Frank Norris--lived right beyond
Vettrill Deas--I hear him (nuster come home to the Ark and trap)--I hear
him say lot of 'em bog. (Ella, Agnes and Johnnie Johnson fadder been
there) Bomb shell hit the hill and bury them in the sand. Had to dig
out.
"Old man John Tillman my boss. Sho treat his people good. Don't see why
his folks (slaves) went to blockade (tried to escape and join Yankee
gun-boats). Sho treat his colored folks good. My Grandfather, Rodrick
Rutledge, driver from a boy. Time he big nuff to handle it till Freedom.
"Couldn't marry widout consent of boss." (Remark from Uncle Sabe's
sister, Mom Jane, who is quite acid. All her information inherited--she
Freedom child) Mom Jane: "Been to devil and come back now!"
(Comparing slavery to the lower regions)
Uncle Sabe--continuing:
"Have sick house; have chillun house." (All in this section tell great
tales of the 'chillun house.' Sounds a lot like the nurse houses in
Russia today. All the babies were in this day nursery in care of the
older women, too old for field work.) "Corn. Meat--pig, beef,
fish--plenty milk." (Some cow 'coffee cow'--that is give just enough
milk for the coffee.)
"Any rice?"
Aunt Jane: (interrupting) "Pick you teet (teeth) to find the rice! Great
God! Now I can buy my rice!"
Uncle Sabe: "Could plant up-land rice to Ark. (This on coast away from
fresh water)
"Ash cake? Meal, salt, water. Not a grease! Not a grease! See Mudder
cook it many a hundred day!"
Mom Jane: "Put it in the stove today,--nothing! Rather have it any day!"
Sabe: "Wrap it in brown paper, mostly. Cows free in woods. Alligator
tail good. Snail built up just like a conch (whelk). They eat good.
Worms like a conch. Bile conch. Git it out shell. Grind it sausage
grinder. Little onion. Black pepper. Rather eat conch than any kind of
nourishment out of salt water."
Mom Jane: "Conjur? Wouldn't turn a hucks bread for 'em." (Give a
crust.)
Sabe: "What God got lot out for a man he'll get it."
"Flat boat full up (with slaves trying to escape) gone down Waccamaw.
Uncle Andrew Aunt the one got he eye shoot out (by patrollers) took 'em
to camp on North Island. Never see so much a button and pin in my life!
Small-pox in camp. Had to leave 'em.
"Captain Ben and Captain Tom fadder--look how he die! Looker the blood!
Looker the people! Looker the blood! His boat call 'The Bull River.' Up
and down Pee Dee river. Meet flat! Bore hole in flat and women and
chillun go down! Take men off. He COME TO THIS COUNTRY. (Came down from
North before Civil War) Them darnish Yankee very percruel. (Peculiar?)
"My Great-grandmother Veenia, pirate captured and took all they money in
English war. (Revolution) Dem day Ladies wear bodkin fastened to long
gold chain on shoulder--needle in 'em and thimble and ting. Coming down
from New York to get away from English. My great grandmother little
chillun. Pirate come to her Missus. Take all they money--come cut bodkin
off her shoulder. Grandmother ma gone on the boat and twiss herself in
Missus' skirt. Pirate put 'em off to Wilmington. Come on down settle to
Pitch Landing near Socastee. Keep on till they get to Ark.
"My Great-Grandma Veenia didn't have a teet in her head--one hundred
ten years old and could eat hard a bread as any we."
Uncle Sabe Rutledge
Burgess, S.C.--P.O.
Horry County
Age 76 (Born 1861)
Ark Plantation.
=Project 1655=
=Genevieve W. Chandler=
=Georgetown County, S.C.=
=FOLKLORE=
=UNCLE SABE RUTLEDGE=
=(EX-SLAVE STORY)=
"They call him Rogerick Rutledge for shortness. My Grandpa REAL name
Jim. First time I big enough to realect (recollect) him he have on no
pants but something built kinder like overall and have a apron. Apron
button up here where my overall buckle and can be let down. All been dye
with indigo. Have weave shirt--dye with blue indigo boil with myrtle
seed. Myrtle seed must-a-did put the color in. Old brogan shoe on he
foot. Old beaver hat on he head. Top of crown wear out and I member he
have paste-board cover over with cloth and sew in he hat crown. My
Grandmother wear these here gingham cloth call gingham twill.
"Now the chillun! I member I was a big boy grown when I get my first
pants. All boy chillun wear a shirt----long down to knee and lower. Have
belt round the middle--just like you belt to hold 'em. Chillun have not
a shoe! Not a shoe for chillun on us plantation to the Old Ark. First
shoe I have, Pa get a cow hide and tan it. And a man name Stalvey make
my first pair of shoes. I was way near bout grown. Make the sole out the
thickness of the cow hide. Short quarter. No eye--just make the hole.
Last! Yes man! Yes man! Yes man! Keep 'em grease! Them shoe never wear
out!
"We raise all we get to eat. Hominy, cornbread, peas, potatoes, rice.
Morest we plant this here yellow corn. I cry many a day bout that yellow
corn! We say, 'Pa, this here yellow corn make hominy look like he got
egg cook in 'em; red corn look like hominy cook in red molasses!'
"But yellow corn stronger feed! Stronger feed! And Pa know 'em.
"Sunday come go to church in that same blue shirt! Little old pole
church--(gone now)--call 'Dick Green Bay Church'. (Named for a local
character.) When we go to church before freedom, Mudder and them have to
have the ticket.
"Old man John Tilghman at the Ark Plantation have no overseer--have
'Driver'. Most folks on Waccamaw have overseer and 'Driver'. My Pa been
the Ark 'Driver.'
"Old man Zachariah Duncan been the preacher. That the same man build the
first 'Heaven Gate' church after freedom. He got drift lumber on the
river and on the beach. Flat 'em--make a raft and float 'em over to the
hill and the man haul 'em to 'Heaven Gate' with ox. Yes. 'Heaven Gate'
built outer pick up lumber.
"Before freedom Parson Glennie--he was 'Piscopal--he would come give us
a service once a month on the plantation--so mother said.
"Patches of indigo all through the woods. You know cow eat indigo. Us
have too much ox! Have to haul rail all the time keep up the old fence.
Woods full up with cow. Cattle loose--free. When you want beef have to
hunt for 'em like we hunts deer now. I member some ox I helped broke.
Pete, Bill, Jim, David. Faby was a brown. David kinder mouse color. We
always have the old ox in the lead going to haul rail. Hitch the young
steer on behind. Sometimes they 'give up' and the old ox pull 'em by the
neck! Break ox all the time. Fun for us boys--breaking ox. So much of
rail to haul!
"(You can't tell me bout this pension? Look like to me somebody trying
to smother something. Letters come. Cards come. My name on outside
alright. Tell me to put my name on cards and hand 'em out to my friends.
Say send twenty-five cents. Next time say 'Send thirty-five cents'. He
cool off then and another man--Mr. Pope come in. Got two letter from him
and he tell me be still till I hear from him again. J.E. Pope. Last
blank I got from Mr. Pope he say not to look for more than thirty or
thirty-two dollars a month. Say there ain't going to be no two hundred a
month.)
"How come I know all these Buh Rabbit story, Mudder spin you know. Have
the great oak log, iron fire dog. Have we chillun to sit by the
fireplace put the light-wood under--blaze up. We four chillun have to
pick seed out the cotton. Work till ten o'clock at night and rise early!
Mudder and Father tell you story to keep you eye open! Pick out cotton
seed be we job every night in winter time--'cept Sunday! When we grow
bigger, Mudder make one card. One would spin and then Mudder go to
knitting. Night time picking these cotton seed out; day time in winter
getting wood!
"Fall----harvest peanut, peas, 'tater!
"I member all them Buh Rabbit story! Mudder tell 'em and we laugh and
wake up! They was one bout Buh Rabbit and Buh Patridge. You know Buh
Patridge the onliest one get the best of Buh Rabbit!
"Buh Rabbit bet Buh Patridge (Buh Rabbit think he so sharp you know!) He
bet Buh Patridge if he fly off down the road a piece and lit Buh Rabbit
can find 'em.--Buh Patridge bet him he can't! So Buh Patridge take off
and fly down the road a piece and lit--like a Patridge will do--lit and
turn up on he back and rake the leaves over him and kiver (cover) his
body all 'cept he two foots sticking up like stick!
"Now Buh Rabbit come! He hunt and he hunt and he hunt! Couldn't find 'em
and he get so hot he take off he coat and hang it on Buh Patridge foots!
"He go on hunting and after while he call out,
"'Well I can't find Buh Patridge! Can't find Buh Patridge!'
"And Buh Patridge sing out,
"'Well, Buh Rabbit, here I is! You hang you coat on my feet!'
"Buh Rabbit have to pay the bet! (I don't member what the bet was). So
Buh Patridge was the onliest one I ever hear bout could get the best of
Buh Rabbit!
"When Father and Mudder tell them story we chillun noddin'! Some cackle
out and all jump up and go back to picking out cotton seed!
"There is another one bout Buh Bear. They goes out my head. I'll think
them Buh Rabbit up fore you come back Missus!"
And Uncle Sabe, who was sitting on the 'LOOK OUT' at the Floral Beach
Fishery, continued to let his eyes play all over the sea like
searchlights, ready to wave the black flag and march down toward the
fishery holding it aloft keeping himself in a line with the fish if fish
were sighted. Since way before what he called 'the big war' he and his
people have eaten mullet and rice for the three fall months. His home
was visited before Uncle Sabe was located and children and
grand-children, wife, sister and neighbors were found seated and
standing all over the kitchen floor and piazza floor and steps----each
one with a generous tin plate of rice and fresh, brown, hot 'spot'----a
fish not so valuable in summer but choice in fall and winter. Two hounds
and a large cat worked around among the feasters for their well chewed
bones.
SOURCE: Uncle Sabe Rutledge, The Ridge, Burgess, S.C., (Horry County)
Born first year of the Civil War.
(He owns his house and land,----some twenty-five acres under
cultivation. This is located on what appears to be a 'height of land'
lying between the Waccamaw and the Atlantic. Locally it is known as 'The
Sand Ridge'.)
=Project 1885 -1-=
=District #4=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=May 31, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Martha Ritter=
=FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES=
"I was born in Edgefield county, S.C., about 1854. I was the son of
Larkin and Cheny Ryan who was the slaves of Judge Pickens Butler who
lived at Edgefield Courthouse. I has some brothers and sisters, but
don't remember them all. We lived in a log house with but one room. We
had good beds to sleep in, and always had plenty to eat. Old Judge
Butler was a good man. I was 10 years old when he died. Before then I
worked in and around the house, and freedom come I stayed with the
Butler family two years, then went to Dr. Maxwell's.
"In slavery time we had extra patches of ground to work for ourselves
which we sometimes worked on Saturday afternoons as we had dat time off.
Judge Butler used to give us a little money, too, before freedom come,
for our work. We bought clothes and things we had to have. We had a big
plantation garden dat the overseers planted for all on de place to eat
out of.
"We used to hunt 'possums, rabbits, squirrels, wild turkeys, doves,
partridges, and set traps for partridges and set box gums for rabbits.
We had good food then, plenty peas, cornbread, and wild game. When
winter time come we put on wool clothes and heavy shoes.
"Old Marse Butler and his mistress was good, de best folks in de
country. They lived in a big house, had a girl and a boy, and over 1000
or maybe 2,000 acres of land, on several farms. One was on Saluda River.
His overseers some was no good, but master wouldn't let them treat
slaves cruel, just light whipping.
"We used to have to wake up at sun-up and work till sundown. We didn't
learn to read and write; but we had a prayer house on de plantation
where we could go to sometimes, until freedom come, then we went on to
it just the same. Old man Bennefield, a nigger preacher, talked to us
there. I can 'member one of de favorite songs we sung:
'Show pity, O Lord, forgive,
Let e'er repentant sinner live;
Are not thy mercies large and free,
May not a sinner trust in Thee.'
'My crimes are great, and can't surpass,
---------------------------------------'
"None of Major Pickens Butler's slaves ever went away from him, but some
in de neighborhood did run away, and day never heard of dem again.
"The paderrollers would catch a nigger if he didn't have a pass. Some
would pass and re-pass in the road, and maybe get catched and such
scuffling would go on!
"We worked on Saturday afternoons unless boss give time off to work our
own little patches or do some other work we had to do. But some would
frolic then and wash up for Sunday, or set around. On Sunday we went to
church and talked to neighbors. On Christmas we celebrated by having a
big dinner which the master give us. We had three days holiday or
sometimes a week. We had New Year's Day as a special day for working,
'cause it was a sign if we worked good dat day, we would work good all
de year. The white folks had corn-shuckings and cotton pickings in
slavery and after freedom, too. Den would have big supper. Some
neighbors walk ten miles, like walking to church or to school. Didn't
think anything of walking dat far.
"Some of de games played by children were marbles, jump-rope.
"Once an old man had his dog trained to say his prayers. The dog was fed
but wouldn't be allowed to eat until he put his paws in front and bow
his head on dem; de old man say to him, 'No, no, you die and go to hell
if you don't say your prayers.'
"Once another fellow, a nigger, said he was going to his wife's house to
see her; but he had to pass his old partner's place on de way, who was
dead. When he got opposite the partner's place something, maybe a ghost,
came to him and wrestled with him and wouldn't let him go on to see his
wife, so he come back to his master's house and stayed.
"When the slaves got sick they had doctors, and used old herbs.
'Jerusalem Ore' was a kind of herb for children, to build them up, and
there was field grass roots and herb roots which was boiled and tea
drunk for fevers. And 'Primer-rhine' tea which was drunk, too. Sometimes
they would hang garlic around small boys and girls necks to keep away
any kind of sickness.
"We didn't have schools; started them the second year after freedom. Old
General Butler give us old slaves a home each and a small patch to work.
"I married when I was 21 years old, the first time in Edgefield County,
now called Saluda County. I have six children, nine grand-children, and
four great-grand-children.
"I think Abe Lincoln was good man and he was Providential arrangement. I
think Jeff Davis was good man, same. Booker T. Washington is good man,
done lots for young niggers. I rather like it now, and not slavery time.
I joined church when I was 18 to turn from evil ways and to live a
better life."
SOURCE: Henry Ryan (83), Newberry, S.C.; by G. Leland Summer, Newberry,
S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Oct. 11, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I live in a rented three-room house with my daughter. I am too old to
do much work, but I work where I can get little jobs that I can do.
"The slaves did not expect anything after Freedom, for the South was in
such a bad fix. They just got jobs where they could find them. Most of
them worked as share-croppers or wage hands on the farms, and have
worked like this since that time. Some few have rented farms. When any
moved to town they got jobs where they could.
"I never thought much about Reconstruction. Some slaves voted at first,
but when Wade Hampton was elected they didn't get to vote much.
"I think the younger generation has too much freedom and doesn't stay
home enough. They want to have their own way.
"Over in old Edgefield where I was raised we had plenty to eat; plenty
peas, corn bread, turnips and other things. We hunted wild game, too. I
was a slave of Major Pickens Butler. He was a good man and sometimes
gave us a little money for our work. Our master gave us a small patch of
land to work for ourselves and plant anything we wanted.
"No, I never think anything about voting. I am satisfied just to get
along."
Source: Henry Ryan (N--83), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/18/37.
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=May 25, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I am bad-sick woman, in bed and can't hardly talk and can't 'member
much. I was born near Broad River in de Blair section. I belonged in
slavery to de Blair family. My mudder and papa was Grace and Samuel
Blair, and dey belonged to Capt. Blair. When dey was sold, I was put in
de house wid a good free nigger woman to raise me and to stay 'till de
war was over. Den I come to de Blair house, and helped around de house.
My sisters could card, spin and weave, and I helped dem wid it. I didn't
have but one dress. When it got dirty, I went down to de creek and
washed it and put it against de lims to dry, but I had to put it back on
before it got good dry.
"When I got old enough, I worked in de field, hoeing and picking
cotton."
Source: Emoline Satterwhite (82), Newberry, S.C.
Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 19, 1937
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Sept. 9, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES OF EX-SLAVES=
"Marster Charner Scaife a-laying on his bed of death is 'bout de first
thing dat stuck in my mind. I felt sorry fer everybody den. Miss Mary
Rice Scaife, his wife, was mean. She died a year atter. Never felt sad
nor glad den; never felt no ways out of de regular way, den.
"Overseers I recollects was, Mr. Sam Hughes, Mr. Tom Baldwin, and Mr.
Whitfield Davis. Mr. Baldwin was de best to me. He had a still-house out
in a field whar liquor was made. I tote it fer him. We made good corn
liquor. Once a week I brung a gallon to de big house to Marster. Once I
got happy off'n it, and when I got dar lots of it was gone. He had me
whipped. Dat de last time I ever got happy off'n Marster's jug.
"When I was a shaver I carried water to de rooms and polished shoes fer
all de white folks in de house. Sot de freshly polished shoes at de door
of de bed-room. Get a nickle fer dat and dance fer joy over it. Two big
gals cleaned de rooms up and I helped carry out things and take up ashes
and fetch wood and build fires early every day. Marster's house had five
bedrooms and a setting room. De kitchen and dining-room was in de back
yard. A covered passage kept dem from getting wet when dey went to de
dining-room. Marster said he had rather get cold going to eat dan to
have de food get cold while it was being fetched to him. So he had de
kitchen and dining-room jined, but most folks had de dining-room in de
big house.
"It took a week to take de cotton boat from Chester to Columbia. Six
slaves handled de flat-boat. Dere was six, as I said, de boatman, two
oarsmen, two steermen and an extra man. De steermen was just behind de
boatman. Dey steered wid long poles on de way up de river and paddled
down de river. De two oarsmen was behind dem. Dey used to pole, too,
going up, and paddling going down. Seventy-five or eighty bales was
carried at a time. Dey weighed around three hundred pounds apiece. In
Columbia, de wharfs was on de Congree banks. Fer de cotton, we got all
kinds of supplies to carry home. De boat was loaded wid sugar and coffee
coming back. On Broad River we passed by Woods Ferry, Fish Dam Ferry,
Hendersons Ferry and Hendersons Island and some others, but dat is all I
recollect. We unloaded at our own ferry, called Scaife Ferry.
"I split rails fer fences. On Christmas we had coffee, sugar and biscuit
fer breakfast."
Source: Alexander Scaife (82), Box 104, Pacolet, S.C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C.
=Project #-1655=
=Phoebe Faucette=
=Hampton County=
=FOLKLORE=
=ELIZA SCANTLING EX-SLAVE=
=87 Years=
"If you wants to know about de slavery times," said old Aunt Eliza,
"you'se sure come to de right person; 'cause I wuz right dere." The
statement was easy to believe; for old Aunt Eliza's wrinkled face and
stiff, bent form bore testimony to the fact that she had been here for
many a year. As she sat one cold afternoon in December before her fire
of fat lightwood knots, in her one-room cabin, she quickly went back to
her childhood days. Her cabin walls and floor were filled with large
cracks through which the wind came blowing in.
"I gits along pretty good. My chillun lives all around here, and my
granddaughter that's a-standin' at the window dere, takes care of me.
Den de government helps me out. It sure is a blessing, too--to have sech
a good government! And 'Miss Maggie' good to me. She brought me dis
wood. Brought it in her truck herself. Had a colored man along to handle
it for her. But I so stiff I sometimes kin hardly move from me waist
down. And sometimes in de morning when I wake, it is all I kin do to get
up an' wash me face. But I got to do it. My granddaughter bring me my
meals.
"I is 87 years old. I know 'cause I wuz so high when de war broke out.
An' I plowed my January to July de year 'fore peace declare. I remember
dat. I wuz a good big girl; but jes' a child--not married yet. Yes'm I
plowed a mule an' a wild un at dat. Sometimes me hands get so cold I
jes' cry. But dey all say I 'wuz a nigger what wuz a nigger!'
"In May peace declare. De first president of de country wuz Lincoln. He
took his seat in March. But I work for de white people 'fore dat. On a
Friday mornin' our Massa, Mr. Richard Davant come an' told us peace
declare. He come an' told us hisself. I wuz in de cornhouse a-shuckin'
corn to go to de mill on Saturday. After freedom all de niggers left
'cept my Mamma. My father brought us back here to Col. Alex Lawton's
place at Robertville. He used to belong to Col. Lawton. Many years atter
dat Col. Lawton moved to Savannah; but when he died dey brought him back
here an' buried him at Robertville.
"My young Missus was de daughter of Mr. Sam Maner, my old Massa; so when
she marry Mr. Davant I went wid her. Dey had bought a place in Screven,
Georgia. Seven year 'fore peace declare we went to Georgia. On a Monday
mornin' a colored man come along an' tell Miss Anna de Yankees had took
Waynesboro. We all went to see it. De fire had left de place clean.
Could pick up a pin behind it. Other than dat I see nothin'. I never see
no house burn down. I never hear no gun fire. I jes' see de uniform, an'
see 'em kill de hog an' sling 'em 'cross de saddle. Den when we come
back to Robertville, we see de destruction left behind.
"After I git of size I mind de birds off de corn an' rice an' sech like.
Den I'd take care of de turkeys. An' we'd sweep de yards. Carry de
leaves off to de stable in a wheelbarrow.
"Both my missus wuz good to me. De last missus I own treat me jes' de
same as her own child. I stayed right dere in de house wid her, an' if I
wuz sick or anything she'd take care of me same as her own chillun. I
nurse one of her chillun. An' dat child would rather be wid me than wid
her own mother!"
Source: Elisa Scantling, Scotia, S.C. age 87 years.
=Code No. 390166=
=Project No. 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Mrs. Lucile Young & H. Grady Davis=
=Place, Florence, S.C.=
=Date, May 25, 1937=
=Typed by M.C., N.Y.A.=
=No Words_______________=
=Reduced from ____ Words=
=Rewritten by=
=Mary Scott=
=Gourdin, S.C.=
=Ex-Slave, About 90 years old=
"Where and when were you born?"
"On Gaston Gamble place, between here and Greeleville. In da Gamble's
Bible is my age. Don't know my age. Pretty much know how old, I bout 90.
I wuz little girl when freedom come."
"Give the names of your father and mother."
"Father, John Davis. Mother, Tina Davis. Belonged to last mausa. Darby
Fulton. Gamble sold mama and three children to Fulton. Belonged to Davis
after freedom. Father belonged to Davis. Take first mausa's name. Sold
to Arnold Mouzon. Didn't take Mouzon name."
"Where did your father and mother come from?"
"Right where Grandma go, Gamble place."
"Did you have any brothers and sisters?"
"James and Benjamin. All ded."
"Describe the beds and where you slept."
"Had plenty slaves. I don't know exactly how many. In dem times you
know, we had to get ticket to go to see dere family."
"What kind of house did you have to live in?"
"Better dan dis. Better dan dis. Good house. Sleep on wooden bed. Straw
and feather mattress."
"Do you remember anything about your grandparents or any stories told
you about them?"
"I ain't know my grandmother, grandfather either."
"What work did you do in slavery times."
"Didn't do no kind of work. Mother milked, tended to de butter."
"Did you ever earn any money?"
"No money."
"What did you eat and how was it cooked?"
"Boil meat and put peas or greens, rice cooked dry, take up in plate and
eat. One girl get done and wash dishes and put dem up."
"Did you ever eat any possums?"
"Yes, my brother catch possum and raccoon."
"Fish?"
"Fishing in de branch."
"Did the slaves have their own gardens?"
"Yes, sir, plant big garden, no use plant, go to dere garden and get
it."
"What clothes did you wear in cold weather?"
"Thick. I could weave it with stripes and put one check one way and
nother strip nother way."
"Hot weather?"
"In winter warm clothes and shoes. Had Sunday clothes. I had a green
worsted dress."
"Did the slaves have a church on your plantation?"
"Go to white people church and sit out of doors and wait till dey come
out and den we go in and have preaching."
"White or colored preacher?"
"White preacher."
"Was your master a good man?"
"Mr. Gamble like to drink liquor but still good people. All who I
talking about good people."
"What was Mr. Gamble's name?"
"Mr. Gamble name Gastron Gamble. Son living in dat big house and grandson
living down dere."
"How many children did Mr. Davis have?"
"He had some not many. Mr. Gamble had some too."
"What kind of house did Mr. Gamble live in?"
"Medium size house. All had just common house, two-story."
"What about the overseer?"
"Overseer he see dat you work soon. Driver go in de field and stay 'til
12 o'clock."
"How many acres in the plantation?"
"Don't know how many acres."
"What time did the overseer wake the slaves up?"
"Wake dem up soon. Blow horn."
"Did you have to work hard?"
"Work 'til sundown."
"Did you see any slaves punished?"
"Some punished, but I ain't never see none whip. I heard stick strike de
ground and tie hands and feet. Paddle on dis side and den paddle on de
other side 'til sore."
"Did you ever see any slaves sold or auctioned off?"
"My mother and us sold. Mrs. Gamble died left my mama for a daily gift.
She wouldn't allow dem to whip me. I ain't know when we be sell, I wuz a
baby."
"Did you see slaves in chains?"
"No chains."
"Did the slaves have a church on your plantation?"
"Yes, de Gambles make us to go to Sunday school and learn us the Sunday
school lessons. I could plow. We went to white church and set down till
white people go out and de old man dat tend to de church and open up de
church and say come in, can't stay outside."
"Who preached for you all?"
"My uncle, Jefferie Pendergrass, mother's brother. If colored people
want preacher preach, he go in dere and made de children be quiet and
preach a nice sermon and have watch night but not in de church."
"Do you know any spirituals?"
"I forgets dem things. I use to be good singer but I ain't got no teeth.
I ain't been looking fer dis. If you hadn't come, I'd been gone."
"Where would you have gone?"
"Just to walk about. All gone to de field and de children so bad."
"Tell about baptizing."
"Baptized by de white people."
"Did the slaves run away to the North?"
"I ain't know 'bout dat."
"What about patrollers?"
"No patarollers. Have to get ticket, whip dem if dey didn't get it.
Colored people do more than white people allow. Caused dem to whip dem.
My sister, my sister-in-law and girl went and tell dem dey gwine have
play in white kitchen. Mr. Sam Fulton boss wouldn't go to war. My
sister, sister-in-law run up in de loft and tell dem come down and dey
come down and jump off de window and land in de mud hole wid dere best
dress on. Mr. Fulton let dem have it in de quarters."
"Did you hear of any trouble between the master and the slaves?"
"My grandmother went off and wouldn't come back. She write that she get
everyday what she could get fer Sunday."
"Did you work on Saturday evenings?"
"Some of de white people made dem work on Saturday evening. I had a
uncle when white people come by going to church he hoeing his rice. Dey
didn't want him work on Sunday. Miss Elizabeth Gamble tell dem he gwine
to chop his rice on Sunday."
"What did you do on Sunday?"
"Go to church."
"Christmas day?"
"I don't remember what dey give on Christmas day. My family got
clothes."
"What did you do at a wedding or funeral among the slaves?"
"Just say got a wife, ain't married. If anybody ded everything stop."
"What games did you play as a child?"
"I don't know what all I played."
"Do you know any funny stories?"
"No, sir, I used to tell my grands things."
"Did you ever see any ghosts?"
"I ain't believe in it, but I see dem. Jest pass by and dey want bother
you. Don't know where dey come from. Dey look like people."
"You don't believe in them?"
"No, sir, but I know one thing, dey say fox gwine mad. Say cat gwine mad
but dat ain't so. I ain't scared of nothing."
"You are not scared at night?"
"When de moon shining. Moon ain't shine might fall and cripple. When we
holler voice way back dere."
"When the slaves became sick, who tended to them?"
"White people tended to dem. Use medicine."
"Do you make medicine out of herbs?"
"No, sir, don't make it."
"Did you ever see anybody wear a ten-cent piece around the ankle?"
"I see dem wear it, but I ain't know what fer."
"What do you remember about the war that brought you freedom?"
"I know just as good when peace declared. Gun rolled in dat direction.
Must be guns. Cook say roll thunder roll and I say de sun shine it ain't
gwine rain. I wuz too little to know but my sister say every man and
every woman got to work for demselves."
"What did your master say?"
"I ain't know what master say, he single man and didn't talk much."
"Did you stay with him the year after freedom?"
"No, he didn't treat my mother right."
"Any schools for Negroes?"
"Pretty good time before schools."
"Did the slaves buy any land?"
"No land bought."
"Do you remember your wedding?"
"I member jest as good 'bout my wedding. I married on Thursday night.
Some white people from Kingstree and different ones come and pile it up
and when I get all dem presents some one stick fire and burn it all
down."
"Whom did you marry?"
"John Scott."
"Do you have any children?"
"One gone in de field and dis one."
"What are they doing?"
"Working on farms. Jane got killed in de wreck."
"Who is Jane?"
"My daughter. She wuz coming to see me. Train wreck and kill her coming
from Norfolk."
"How long ago was that?"
"'Bout two years ago."
"What do you think of Abraham Lincoln?"
"I see picture of dem. Picture in dere of Lincoln."
"Now that slavery time is ended, what do you think of it?"
"I believe colored people do better in de slavery than now."
"Do you belong to the church?"
"Yes, Promise Land Baptist church."
"Why do you think people ought to go to church?"
"To have some protection and when you go in a church dat is a place for
you to be taken care of. Dey ain't got no religion."
"Was the overseer 'poor white trash?'"
"I could hear de people talk 'bout him. Some like him and some don't. If
I got a wife over yonder, I got to get ticket before I could go to see
her. Had to work hard too."
"Let us see the picture of Lincoln."
"Dis is it." (Granddaughter shows us Aunt Mary's picture)
"Is that the one?"
"Yea, I think so."
"Let me see, dat ain't de one. Here is." (Aunt Mary showed us a picture
which looked to be taken from some New York newspaper. It was probably a
screen star).
"Who told you that was Lincoln?"
"Some preacher or somebody come here and tell me."
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg--Dist. 4=
=May 18, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"Aunt" Nina Scot sat on her front porch. She was drinking some liquid
from a bottle which she said would help her trouble. Being short of
breath, she was not able to talk very much. She said that she was very
small at the time she was set free. "My Marster and his folks did not
treat me like a nigger," she said, "they treated me like they did other
white folks." She said that she and her mother had belonged to Dr.
Shipp, who taught at Wofford College, that they had come here from
Chapel Hill, N.C. and that she was a tarheel negro. She said that white
people in slavery days had two nurses, one for the small children and
one for the older ones. "Yes sir, those were certainly fine people that
lived on the Campus during those days. (Wofford Col. Campus) When the
'raid' came on, people were hiding things all about their places." She
referred to the Yankee soldiers who came to Spartanburg after the close
of the Civil War. "My mother hid the turkeys and told me where she had
hidden them." Dr. Shipp came up to Nina one day and asked her where the
turkeys were hidden. She told him they were hidden behind a clump of
small trees, and pointed them out to him. "Well," he said, "tell your
mother to go and hide them somewhere else and not to tell you about it.
You would tell the Yankees just where those turkeys were hidden." Aunt
Nina recalls that Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Duncan (formerly of Wofford College)
had a habit of getting a slice of bread and butter for all the
neighboring children (black or white) whenever their nurses brought them
to their home.
SOURCE: "Aunt" Nina Scott, 260 N. Converse St., Spartanburg, S.C.
Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg Office, Dist. 4
(May 17, 1937)
=Project 1885-1=
=FOLKLORE=
=Spartanburg Dist. 4=
=May 25, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES OF EX-SLAVES=
"I was born in Newberry County, near the Laurens County line, above
Chappells Depot. My father and mother were Tom and Francis Scurry and
belonged as slaves to the Drury Scurry family. Dr. Drury Scurry bought
them from Col. Cooper of Laurens County. He was a fine man and mighty
good to his slaves. I worked around the house as a boy, and in the
fields when I got old enough. Some of the nigger boys hunted 'possums,
rabbits and squirrels. Dr. Scurry had 100 acres in woods. They were just
full of squirrels and we killed more squirrels than you can count.
"The slaves didn't have a garden, but after the war, we stayed on wid
Marse Scurry. When freedom come, he come to us in the yard where we had
congregated and told us we was free and could go anywhere we wanted, but
if any wanted to stay on wid him, he would pay wages. All of us stayed
on wid him. He give us a one-acre patch of ground to raise anything we
wanted to raise. He had white overseers during slavery, but none ever
whipped us 'cause the master wouldn't let them. He had a plantation of
about 300 acres and 40 or 50 slaves. They got up at sun-up and worked
'till sun-down each day, but had Saturday afternoons off when dey could
do anything dey wanted to.
"There wasn't much time for learning to read and write. The white folks
sometimes had niggers to go to their church and set in the back of
gallery. In our neighborhood, niggers had their own church dat they made
of poles and brush, and called it, 'Brush Harbor'. They made seats from
small logs sawed off of rough plank.
"On Christmas day, the master would have a big dinner for his slaves and
spread it out in the yard. Corn shuckings were popular and so were
cotton pickings, where big eats were prepared for those who helped.
They had big feasts at marriages, and even the slaves had feasts at
their marriages, the master and his family taking part in the
ceremonies. I was married in 1887, and at that time I was living with
Mr. Renwick, and my girl with Dr. Tom Brown. Dr. Brown had us to marry
in his yard in the grove, and over 200 persons was there to see it. The
next day, he give us a big 'infair' with all kinds of good things to
eat, presents and dances. We never had any children. After we moved to
town, my wife was a nurse or midwife among some of the white families
for a long time.
"In Ku Klux times, I met five or ten of them in the road one night. They
never bothered me. They had long white sheets over them and the horses.
Slits were cut for the head, eyes, nose and mouth.
"The niggers had an old field song: 'Give me dat good ole time religion'
which they sang most of the time. There was another song they sang:
'Dark midnight is my cry--Give me Jesus, You may have all this world,
but give me Jesus.'
"Some old-time cures for the sick was--barks of cherry tree, dogwood,
and olive bush, made into tea and drunk.
"I thought Abe Lincoln was a fine man, done mighty good and saved the
country. Jeff Davis was a good man. Booker Washington was a great man. I
think slavery was bad; yet our white folks was good to us, but some
white masters was mean. I think everybody should belong to the church
and be a Christian."
SOURCE: Morgan Scurry (78), Newberry, S.C.; interviewed by:
G.L. Summer. Newberry, S.C. May 19, 1937.
=S-260-264-N=
=Project #935=
=Hattie Mobley=
=Richland County=
=South Carolina=
=Uncle Ransom Simmons=
=Richland County, South Carolina.=
Uncle Ransom is one of the few remaining slaves who still lives and
whose mind is still clear and active. He has just passed his one-hundred
and fourth birthday, was born in Mississippi, and brought to South
Carolina by his master Wade Hampton, the father of the illustrious
General Wade Hampton, before the Civil War.
When the war broke out and General Wade Hampton went to war Uncle Ransom
cried to be allowed to follow his young master. He went and served as a
body guard. Uncle Ransom learned to read the Bible while attending a
night school held for slaves before freedom, and it was only in recent
years that he was taught to write his name.
This old man lives alone in a shack at Taylor, a little village on the
outskirts of Columbia. He is furnished with all the milk and ice cream
he can eat by the Columbia Dairy. He purchases a little food with the
state pension of twenty-five dollars a year paid to Negroes who served
the Confederacy in some military capacity.
Uncle Ransom says his master was the kindest man in the world, and that
as far as he is concerned, he has never had a worry in his life, and as
he said this, his face radiated with a broad and satisfied smile.
Reference:
Personal interview with Ransom Simmons age 104.
=Project #1655=
=Stiles M. Scruggs=
=Columbia, S.C.=
=ALFRED SLIGH=
=_EX-SLAVE 100 YEARS OLD._=
Alfred Sligh, who lives in a rented house at 1317 Gregg Street, says he
was born in Newberry County, South Carolina, in 1837. His hair is white
and he is feeble. He goes about the city, on fair days, collecting small
sums of money from his white friends and sometimes from his own race. In
this way he earns most of his income.
"My folks was slaves of the Sligh family for many years, befo' I was
born. My mammy and daddy and me b'long to Butler Sligh, at de time I
begin to do chores and take notice of things. I be nearly half grown
when my young master, Butler Sligh, am just four years old. He die, four
or five years ago. I guess you 'member, 'cause he was a powerful
well-known white man. He was seventy-five years old when he die.
"De young master, he name for my old master. De old master and 'most all
de white men of de neighborhood, 'round 'bout us, march off to de war in
1861. One day I see them ridin' down de big road on many hosses and they
wavin' deir hats and singin': 'We gwine to hang Abe Lincoln on a sour
apple tree!' and they in fine spirits. My young master, Butler, who they
call Junior at de time, he am too young to go with them so we stay home
and farm. I go with him to de fields and he tell de slaves what to do.
Durin' de war I see much of de soldiers who say they not quit fightin'
'til all de damn-Yankees am dead. Dis was so, durin' de first two years.
After dat I see more and more of de damn-Yankees, as they pass through
'flictin' punishment on 'most everybody.
"Sho' we hear dat all Negroes am free in 1863, but dat rumor not affect
us. We work on, 'til Sherman come and burn and slash his way through de
state in de spring of 1865. I just reckon I 'member dat freedom to de
end of my life.
"We gang up at my grandmother's cabin and she tell us it am so. We look
scared, lak mules in de midst of a hornet nest, as we stood dere. We
didn't wait long, for old Mistress Sligh she come 'long and say: 'Sho'
it am so, you am free.' Many of de slaves, 'cludin' me, tell her we love
to stay on and work as usual 'til de big white folks come. She smile and
say: 'All right, maybe we be able to feed and clothe you, and when your
old master git back from Virginia, maybe he will hire you!'
"When I first marry, which was at de start of de war, I marry Sarah, a
slave gal on de Sligh plantation. We has several chillun, befo' she die,
which was soon after we move to Columbia. De chillun, at least two boys
and two gals, all git grown, but they go North a long time ago, and I
never hears from them.
"When I come to Columbia in 1866, I find work on houses, and building
was plentiful then. I git 'long pretty well, then, 'cause if I did not
land a job, I could go to de Freedman's Aid Office at Assembly and
Gervais streets and git rations and a little cash for my family. After
de Freedman's Aid left town I had no trouble findin' work. And soon I
was pretty prosperous. I kept that way, so long as I was able to do my
share of de work.
"It was in 1913, as I was walkin' 'long Hampton Street, dat I see my
present wife, Sadie. She pass by me, and smile and look and I smile and
look, and she slow up a little and say: 'What's happen, big boy?' I am
so tickled, I say: 'I just have to tell you:
'De rose am red,
De violet's blue,
No knife can cut
My love in two.'
"She say; 'Pretty good, big boy, pretty good! Come 'round and see me
sometime.' I answer: 'I sho' will, Peaches and Cream'. And dat am just
what I did. We got married dat same year, and we have been happy, 'til I
git too old and feeble to work much. She work now to de best of her
ability and we somtimes has a big squeeze to pay de rent. Dat is why I'm
hopin' to get de old age pension, made possible by de greatest President
of them all.
"Does I recall de 'sassination of de first President dat died dat way?
Yes sir, I sho' do. De first one was Abraham Lincoln, a little after de
close of de war. He was shot while sittin' in a seat in de theater at
Washington. James A. Garfield, was de nex' one. He was shot in de depot,
at Washington. De nex' one was McKinley. He was shot while at a show
place, in Buffalo."
=Project #1655=
=W.W. Dixon,=
=Winnsboro, S.C.=
=DAN SMITH=
=_EX-SLAVE 75 YEARS._=
Dan Smith lives in one room, rent free, of a three-room frame house, the
property of his son-in-law, Jim Cason. It is situated on the southeast
corner of Garden and Palmer streets in the town of Winnsboro, S.C. He is
tall, thin and toothless, with watery eyes and a pained expression of
weariness on his face. He is slow and deliberate in movements. He still
works, and has just finished a day's work mixing mortar in the
construction of a brick store building for Mr. Lauderdale. His boss
says: 'The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.' There is nothing
organically wrong with Dan but he appears, in human anatomy, as Doctor
Holmes's One Horse Shay must have looked the day before its final
collapse.
"You been here once befo' and now here you is again. You say you wanna
git additions? Well, I's told you dat I was born in Richland County, a
slave of Marse John Lever and on his plantation, January de 11th day,
1862, when de war was gwine on. How I know? 'Cause my mammy and pappy
told me so. They call my pappy Bob and my mammy Mary. Strange as it
seem, my mistress name Mary, just de same as my mammy, tho' marster
wasn't name Bob, lak pappy. Him name Marster John and de young marster,
an only child, was name Marse Jim. You better stop right dere 'til I
tell you pappy no b'long to de Levers. Him b'long to de Smiths. Him name
Bob Smith, after freedom. Dat's how come I be dis day, Dan Smith. You
ketch de p'int? Well dats de way it was.
"Befo' pappy take a shine to mammy in slavery time, her got mixed up
wid one of old Marse Burrell Cook's niggers and had a boy baby. He was
as black as long-leaf pine tar. Her name him George Washington Cook but
all him git called by, was Wash Cook. My full brudders was Jim, Wesley,
and Joe. All of them dead and gone long ago.
"Us chillun slept on de floor. Mammy had some kind of 'traption or
other, 'ginst de wall of de log house us live in, for her and de baby
child to git in at night. Us have plenty to eat, sich as: peas, 'tatoes,
corn bread, 'lasses, buttermilk, turnips, collards and fat meat.
"De only thing I 'member 'bout my mistress is: One day her come down to
de house and see my brudder Joe sucking his thumb. Mammy tell her, her
can't make him quit it. Mistress go back to de big house and come
runnin' back with quinine. Her rub Joe's thumbs wid dat quinine and tell
mammy to do dat once or twice a day. You ought to see dat baby's face de
first time and heard him squall! It sho' stopped him sucking his thumbs!
"Clothes? Didn't need no clothes in de summer time but a shirt. In de
winter, us just stood 'bout de fire. I'm talkin' 'bout us chillun, don't
'member 'bout old folks.
"Master and Mistress lived in a big white house, two stories high, tall
brick chimneys at de gable ends, and wide front and back piazzas de full
length of de dwelling. Us chillun had no shoes. Mammy had two pair all
de time but they had wooden bottoms. Dere was no white overseers 'round,
but patarollers (patrollers) ketched my pappy once, in de house, jerk
him out and whup him, while mammy and us chillun yell and cry and beg
them to stop.
"When de Yankees come, mammy hide us chillun under her bed 'traption.
They act mighty nice to her, so she say.
"What kinda work mammy do? Her was one of de weavers. Heard her tell
'bout how they make de thread and de cloth. They had spinnin' wheels.
Person turn de wheel wid de hand and walk back'ards and for'ards,
drawing out de thread. Dis kind of thread, her say, was rough. Later
they got a thing de spinners operate wid deir foots, settin' by de wheel
and workin' it wid deir foots, sorta lak a sewing machine is run. Her
'low de thread dat come to her in de weave-room from dis kind of
spinnin' was smoother and more finer than de other kind. After de yarn
was spin, it was reeled off de spools into hanks and then took to de
warper. Then she woofed it, warped it, and loomed it into cloth. Her
make four yards in a day.
"After freedom, pappy come and take mammy and all us chillun to a farm
on Cedar Creek, in dis county, Fairfield. I works dere 'til 1872, I
thinks. I gits concerned 'bout dis time wid two things, jinin' wid de
Lord, and jinin' wid de woman. De fust was easy. All I had to do was go
to de Methodis' revival, shout a little, and jine up befo' de preacher.
I just had to be convicted and convinced, but mind you, I was de one to
be convinced, de other was not so easy. De Lord was easy to find and
quick to take me, but de gal was hard to find and was slow to take me,
'cause she was de one to be convinced dis time, you see.
"I looks all 'round Cedar Creek. De ones I could git, I wouldn't have,
and de ones I would have I couldn't git. So dere it was. I mounts old
Betsy, dat was pappy's mule, one Sunday and come to Winnsboro. I spied a
gal at church, 'bout de color of a ripe pumpkin after de big frosts done
fall on it, hair black as a crow and meshed up and crinkled as a cucker
burr. Just lookin' at her made my mouth water. Me and old Betsy raise de
dust and keep de road hot from Cedar Creek to Winnsboro dat summer and
fall, and when us sell de last bale of cotton, I buys me a suit of
clothes, a new hat, a pair of boots, a new shirt, bottle Hoyt's cologne
and rigs myself out and goes 'round and ask her to marry me. Her name
Ida Benjamin. Did her fall for me right away? Did her take me on fust
profession and confession lak de Lord did? No sir-ree bob! Her say: 'I
got to go to school some more, I's too young. Got to see papa and mama
'bout it. Wait 'til you come nex' time and I'll tell you.' I was
confused then, I gits up, gives her de cologne bottle, and mounts old
Betsy, spurs her in de side, gallops, and cusses all de way back to
Cedar Creek. I confess to mammy. Her laugh and say: 'Dan, you knows
nothin' 'bout women and gals. Why it's mighty plain she gonna say yes,
nex' time.' Just lak her say, Ida did, and us got married de end of de
nex' school term, in May.
"Us had ten chillun. Dan, name for me, is at Concord, N.C. Oscar is in
Concord, N.C. Lucinda marry a Haltiwanger and is comfortable in
Baltimore, Md. Aurelia marry a Williams and is in Baltimore. Henrietta
marry a Sawney and is in Charlotte, N.C. Lilly marry Jim Cason and live
right in Winnsboro, in de house I have a room in.
"I got lots of gran'childs, too many to mention, They take after dere
grandma, lak to go to school and read de Bible and go to church and
Sunday School.
"Whut I have on my mind now is a pension. When a man git seventy-five
years old, (I hear folks talk 'round me) dat man should not be 'lowed to
work on de Supreme Court, him should be give a pension of $15,000.00 and
made to stop work. Him may have chillun dat can support him, all de
same, dat jedge gits his pension. Then in de name of goodness, why don't
they make me quit mixing mortar when I is seventy-five years old and
give me $240.00 a year? Sauce for de fat goose Supreme Court Jedge,
oughta be sauce for de mortar mixer poor gander, I 'low. It look lak
jestice for de rich jedge and mix more mortar for poor Dan."
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, July 22, 1937=
=No. Words=________
=Reduced from______words=
=Rewritten by=
_______________________
=HECTOR SMITH=
=Ex-Slave, 79 Years=
"I born down here in Wahee Neck. Easter Avant, dat was my mammy en my
father name Hector Smith. Coase I ain' never see him cause he die fore I
was born, but dat what dey tell me. Dat was a pretty rough time wid de
people den. I don' recollect so much bout de times back dere cause in
dat day en time chillun didn' have de heap of knowledge dey have dis day
en time, but I remembers seein de Yankees en de people gwine to de war.
Oh, dat was a tough time cause dey use de whip in dem days. Oh, yes'um,
my Massa whip my gran'mammy wid a leather strap. You see she had a knack
of gwine off for some cause or another en meetin de boat what run up en
down dat big Pee Dee river en bring fertilizer en all kind of goods to
de peoples. Massa Randall had told her not to go nowhe' bout dat boat,
but some people is sorta high strung like en dey go off anyhow no matter
bout de whip. Oh, yes'um, he sho whip her like he didn' have no soul to
save."
"I couldn' tell you nothin bout how many slaves Massa Randall Davis had,
but I know dat he had a right smart of them. I know it cause he had so
many field hands dey didn' none of em never have to work every day in de
field. Oh, dey just knock bout our Massa house en see after de stock en
such things as dat what time dey didn' have to work in de field."
"You knows when a thing happen so long back dere, it does vanish from a
person's remembrance some of de time en den it'll wander back to you
when you ain' thinkin bout it. I does recollect dat dere wasn' nothin
much more for de colored peoples in dat day en time den what dey got to
eat en de clothes dey had to wear. My Massa give everyone of he colored
family a peck of meal en a quart of syrup en so much of meat every week
en 'low em all to have a garden of dey own. Oh, dey work dey garden by
de moonshine en fore light good in de mornin cause dey had to turn dey
hand to dey Massa work when daylight come here. I tellin you corn bread
was sweet to me in dat day en time as pound cake ever been. Wasn' never
noways pickin' en choosin bout nothin. Oh, I forget bout all dem possums
en rabbits dat eat right smart in dem days. Use to catch em when dey had
swells of de water en dey come out de woods to hunt dry land. It just
like dis, dey couldn' conceal demselves in de open fields en dat
how-come we catch em so easy. Run em down wid de dogs en make em take to
de water. Dat how we catch em. Dat sho was sweet eatin in dem days."
"Den we had a log house to stay in what never had but just one room en
de furniture we had was worser den de house. Us beds was made wid four
stumps for de corners dat had boards lay cross em to put de mattress on.
Some of de colored peoples had bag mattress stuff wid hay en de others
had homespun mattress what was stuff wid dis here gray moss you see in
de woods. En I remembers all bout when de peoples had to cook in de
fireplace cause dere wasn' much stoves in circulation in dat day en
time."
"Well, I don' know so much bout dem things peoples call ghost, but I
know dat I has seen things. I knows once long time back I was gwine long
de road late on a evenin drivin me ox what I had hitch up to de cart en
a ghost or somethin or another cause dat cart wheel to go right in de
ditch. Well, de ox, he pull en he pull, but wid all me help, he couldn'
never pull dat cart out. I ax some of dem people bout dere what dey
reckon dat was en dey say all dey know to compare it to was a hant or a
ghost. No 'mam, didn' see it, just hear it cause it come right to my
back en knocked. It had been rainin en soon as it quit, de moon shine
out bright as ever was day en dat when de hant turn de cart loose."
"De next thing I see was one time when me en another fellow was sleepin
in de swamp. I couldn' tell whe' de moon rise den en when I come to my
senses, dere was one of dem things just a danglin in de air like dese
things show people have. Some people say dat was a ghost."
"Oh, de peoples didn' never worry bout no doctor den. Dey doctor was in
de field in dat day en time. I gwine tell you just like I know it, all
de older peoples use to get de herbs out de old fields for dey remedies.
My Massa en my Missus was de ones what doctor mostly in dem times. Use
to get old field ringdom, what smell like dis here mint, en boil dat en
let it steep. Dat what was good to sweat a fever en cold out you. Den
dere was life everlastin tea dat was good for a bad cold en cherry bark
what would make de blood so bitter no fever never couldn' stand it. Dem
what had de rheumatism had to take dat lion's tongue or what some
peoples calls wintergreen tea en some of de time, dey take pine top en
mix wid de herbs to make a complete cure. Oh, dey make it bad as dey
could so as to weaken de case. Another thing dat been good for de
rheumatism was dat red oak bark dat dey use to bathe de limbs wid.
Willow tea was somethin good for chill en fever en catnip en sage tea
was de thing for babies."
"It like I tell you de colored peoples never get no learnin but what
little dey catch from de plantation men in dem night schools. Oh, dey
give everyone of us a slate en slate pencil en we study dere in de
quarter in de night time by de light of de fire. Studied dem Blue Back
Websters. Dat was de text we know bout den."
"I tell you de truth I live so much in darkness den dat I think dat time
was bout good as dis time. Didn' know no better sense den. I tell you
just like I been know it, de peoples was coward like in dem days.
Couldn' never pluck up no ambition to do a heap of things de people do
dis day en time. Dat how-come I rather live in dis go round."
_Source_: Hector Smith, ex-slave, age 79, Wahee section of
Marion Co., S.C.
Personal interview, July 1937.
=Code No. 390144=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, July 14, 1937=
=No. Words________=
=Reduced from_____words=
=Rewritten by=
______________________
=HECTOR SMITH=
=Ex-Slave, 79 years=
"I studied en studied what songs would suit, but dem old familiar hymns
bout all I know dese days. You see dem old familiar hymns what de spirit
sings. It just like I tell you, I put all dem other kind of songs away
when I is change to a better way of livin. I does remember first one en
den de other of dem frolicksome song dat my grandparents learnt me."
NOBODY BUSINESS BUT MINE
I. Rabbit in de hollow,
I ain' got no dog,
How can I catch em?
I do know! I do know!
O Me! O Mine!
Sorry dat if I leave my home,
I gwine to my shack
Wid de chicken on my back,
Nobody business but mine.
(_Continued on next page._)
II. Rabbit in de hollow,
Ain' got no dog,
How can he catch em?
I do know! I do know!
O Me! O Mine!
Let every nigger have his way,
Gwine to his shack
Wid he chicken on his back,
Nobody business but his.
_Source_: Hector Smith, ex-slave, 79 years.,
Wahee section of Marion Co., S.C.
Personal interview, July 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, July 14, 1937=
=No. Words______7____=
=Reduced from_____words=
=Rewritten by=
________________________
=_WAY DOWN IN DE LONESOME VALLEY_=
I. De mockin birds a singin so sweetly,
So sweetly, so sweetly.
De mockin birds a singin so sweetly,
So sweetly, so sweetly.
Way down in de lonesome valley.
II. Dey tell you one thing en dey mean another,
Mean another, mean another.
Dey tell you one thing en dey mean another,
Mean another, mean another.
Way down in de lonesome valley.
III. Some say, what make de young girls so deceivin?
So deceivin, so deceivin?
Some say, what make de young girls so deceivin?
So deceivin, so deceivin?
Way down in de lonesome valley.
"Dat go way back dere. De peoples didn' have nothin more den a mouth
organ to make music wid in dem times."
_Source_: Hector Smith, age 79, ex-slave., Wahee section
of Marion Co., S.C.
Personal interview, July 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, July 14, 1937=
=No. Words____8______=
=Reduced from_____words=
=Rewritten by=
________________________
=_HOLD DE DEAL_=
I. Kitty, Kitty died O--O,
Kitty had a man.
Rather kiss a monkey,
Den to kiss a nigger man.
Hold de deal! Hold de deal!
I'm gwine to get drunk again.
II. Nigger on de horseback,
Thought he was de king.
Come along alligator,
En let de nigger in.
Hold de deal! Hold de deal!
I'm gwine to get drunk again.
_Source_: Hector Smith, age 79, ex-slave, Wahee section
of Marion Co., S.C.
Personal interview, July 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, July 14, 1937=
=No. Words____9______=
=Reduced from_____words=
=Rewritten by=
________________________
=Hector Smith=
=ex-Slave, 79 years.=
"I use to holler a heap in late years but after I lay it down, all dat
leave me."
Bulldogs a barkin,
Howl! Howl!
Bulldogs a barkin,
Howl! Howl!
Bulldogs a barkin,
Howl! Howl!
Ah--oodle--oodle--ou,
Ah--oodle--oodle--ou,
Ah--ou--ah--ou,
Ah--oodle--ou,
Ah--ou--ah--ou,
Ah--oodle--oodle--ou.
_Source_: Hector Smith, 79 years, ex-slave, Wahee section
of Marion Co., S.C.
Personal interview, July 1937.
=Project 1885-(1)=
=Folk Lore=
=Spartanburg, S.C.=
=District No. 4=
=May 28, 1937.=
=Edited by:=
=R.V. Williams=
=STORIES OF EX-SLAVES=
"Aunt" Jane Smith, 80 years old, says that she was only eight years old
when the war ended, and that her recollections are very meagre as to
conditions during slavery.
Her mother belonged to John Snoddy, who owned a farm a few miles west of
Spartanburg. Her father was owned by Dr. Miller of a nearby plantation.
She stated that she was old enought to rock the cradle for the white
babies during slavery.
She stated that she could remember seeing some of the slaves being
whipped on their bare backs with a plaited hickory stick, or thong. She
never received any whippings. She said that a man once cut at her with
his thong, but that she escaped the blow by dodging.
She said she remembered seeing a small child with a piece of bread in
its hand when a hog entered the house and in snatching at the bread,
caught the child's hand near the thumb with its tusks. When running off,
the hog carried the child with it, dragging it along into the field. All
the other children and some men ran after the hog and caught it. The
other colored children were whipped, but by staying in the house and
watching the babies, keeping them safe from other pigs which had also
entered the house, she was not whipped.
Aunt Jane said that when the Yankee soldiers came to the house, they
were just as thick as the "fingers on her hands." She held up her hands
for inspection to illustrate how thick the soldiers stood in the ranks.
She said they did not take anything, but that they crawled under the
house to get the hen eggs. One soldier, she said, came to the house and
asked if there were any horses on the farm. A colored woman told him
that there were no horses on the place, but just at that time, one of
the horses in a nearby stable neighed, and the soldier threatened the
woman's life for lying to him. She says she doesn't remember whether the
soldier took the horses but thinks that he did.
The soldiers told the colored people that they free, but she said that
didn't signify much to her mind. Some time afterwards, she said her
father came and carried her and her mother to his master's place. Later,
she came to Spartanburg and got a job as a cook and washerwoman.
When asked if she knew anything about conjuring, she stated that she had
heard of it but didn't know anything about it. When asked if she had
ever seen a ghost, she said, "No, but I heard one once." She said that
one night after her master had killed "hisself" in the barn with a
pistol, she heard the doors being shut, the windows being slammed, and
the chairs rocking on the front porch all by themselves. She declared
that the wind was not blowing and that a "ghost was doing all dem
things."
She stated that she had been married twice; had reared a houseful of
children; had adopted some and reared them, but that she didn't have
anybody to work for her now but "him," referring to her husband who was
sitting on a trunk.
"Thank the Lord for coming to see me," she said, as the writer left.
SOURCE: Jane Smith, Concord St., Spartanburg, S.C. Interviewer: F.S.
DuPre
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Nov. 9, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"I liked to went crazy when my brother, Bob, went to Arkansas. Den Marse
George Young wrote our names in a book and give it to my ma. It was jes'
a small mem'randum book. We kept it till Miss Addie, dat is Mrs. Billy,
give ma de Bible storybook, and den she copied our names in dat one. De
little book was about wore out den; so it was burned up when Miss Addie
had done finished writing our names in de storybook. Us gwine to keep
dat book and hand it down atter we done left dis earth. Ma been dead now
over fifty years.
"I sho nu'sed Marse George's chilluns fer him, when I was a little gal.
Jimmie, Willie, Conquest, Jack, Katie and Annie was Marse's chilluns.
Conquest dead now. Marse George had a great big house. He was a jes'tice
of de peace or something or 'nother den. I don't know what year my ma
died, but Marse had her buried at New Chapel. Dat same year we raised a
big crop of corn, cotton and peanuts, and had plenty hogs. Marse let us
have all we wanted. He let us hang our meat in his smokehouse dat year.
"Befo' ma died and I was a little gal, a terrible thing happened to us.
Across de Enoree on another place, de Miller place, Fannie Miller run
away. Dey couldn't find her fer a long time. Dey told my marster to git
her. One Sunday my ma got ready to dress me fer Sunday school. She
bathed me and when she looked in de drawer she couldn't find my clothes.
All of her clothes was gone, too. I cried 'cause I couldn't go to Sunday
school. Maude, de woman what lived next to us, went to church. She saw
Fannie dar wid all ma's clothes on. She told Marse about it and he sont
out and had Fannie caught. She had come to our house and got de clothes
on Saturday evening. She had dem hid in a old house on our place. Dey
put her in jail, and den her marster come and whupped her and sont de
clothes back to ma. She never tried to run off agin.
"Jack Gist, a slave of Gov. Gist, run away once and lived in a cave fer
five months befo' de white folks found him. He went down on 'de forest'
and dug a cave near de road in sight of de Harris Bridge which still
spans de Fairforest Creek at dat p'int. De cave wasn't dug on Governor
Gist's land, but on a place know'd den as de old Jackson place. In de
mid hours of night Jack come to see his friends and dey give him things
to eat. When dey got him he had a hog, two geese, some chickens and two
middles of meat. Cose de hog and de middles was stole.
"One night he was crossing de Fairforest Creek on a foot-log and he met
Anderson Gist, one of de Governor's slaves. Dey talked fer awhile. Next
morning, Anderson come wid his marster to de cave whar Jack was. Dey
took all his things on to de big house, and he was whupped and put back
to work. Governor Gist and our marster was good to deir slaves and dey
didn't punish 'em hard like some of 'em did. We had lots more den dan we
has had ever since.
"I never went to de field till atter freedom come. Dey wasn't hard on us
in de fields and I liked to work. We worked mostly from sun-up till it
was too dark to work. Marster's youngest girl, Mary Jane Young, married
Mr. Dave Lane. Dey didn't have a wedding.
"My grandpa was a African and he talked real funny. He was low, chunky,
fat and real black. He went around a lot befo' he died. He was de father
of my mother, Clora. Granny, his wife, was called 'Fender' and she died
de first year of freedom. She was sold and lived on a neighboring
plantation. We went to see her every Saturday. Ma would always take us
to see her, and if we didn't git to go, she come to see us. We liked to
go, and Marse always give us a pass. De patrollers watch us like a hawk,
but we had our passes and we told dem if dey bothered us our marster
would handle 'em. He would, too, 'cause dat was 'de law'. Granny Fender
was good looking. She wore purty beads, earrings and bracelets, and
wrapped her head up in a red cloth. Her eyes and teeth flashed and she
was always jolly. Sometimes we stay all night, but most de time we come
back home. When she come to see us she always stay all night. All de old
folks had real religion den, and it kept 'em happy. Folks now are too
fancy fer religion and it ain't real. I has real religion and nothing
don't worry me. I feels happy all de time over it.
"My marster give my mother de spot of ground and de lumber fer our
church which was named New Chapel. De second church is on de same spot.
De first preaching was had under a oak tree, or arbor. Uncle Tony Murphy
was de first preacher. He was my favorite of all de preachers. Marse
read de Bible to us, but sometimes others read it to us, too. His son,
Bud, dat was killed in de first battle, used to come to de quarters and
read de Bible to us.
"Alex Hall was de minister dat immersed us all. We was all Methodists,
but out dar dey baptized everybody in de Fairforest no matter what
church dey went to. Dar was fifty people baptized de day dat I was.
Milly Bethane made me a big white robe to be baptized in. When I got out
I had a white dress to put on. Dey had a tent fer us to go in to change
our clothes. We was baptized in de Fairforest jes' above de Harris
Bridge. Everybody sung while we was going under de water. Some of 'em
shouted, too. It took de earthquake to shake religion in my husband. He
was Emanuel Gist, de first one.
"Dat night, de people was hollering and woke me up. My husband called
me. 'What dat?' he 'low. 'I don't know,' I says. He got up and run out.
Soon he come back home and he was shaking all over. He fell on de bed.
When de chimney started to fall, I told him to git up. He said he was
too scared to git up. I pulled him up and he was so scared dat he shook
all over. I opened de door. He was too scared to stand up. Next day he
couldn't work; so he went off. I looked fer him till way in de night.
When he did come home, he was rejoicing. He was wid religion and he
never give it up. Dat was on de night of de earthquake. You could hear
people hollering fer miles around."
Source: Mary Smith (N, 84), Buffalo St., Union, S.C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (9/14/37)
=S-260-264-N=
=Project: #1885=
=Augustus Ladson=
=Charleston, S.C.=
=EXPERIENCES OF AN EX-SLAVE ON WARDMALAW ISLAND=
=_Massa Wus Kind to Slaves_=
Prince Smith, a man who is said to be over a hundred years of age, has
lived on Wardmalaw Island practically all of his life. His experiences
during slavery are very interesting and true to life. An interview with
him revealed the following:
"I was bo'n an' raise' on dis island and was only frum here when de
Civil War had begun. W'en Fort Sumter wus fired on mossa carried seventy
of us to Greenville, South Ca'lina on account of its montanous sections,
which was believed would have prevented the Yankees invasion in regard
to their hide-out." We stayed een Greenville nearly four years. Durin'
dat time mossa planted his fa'm an' we wurk as if we wus right here.
"The Yankees had gunboats," he continued, "but dey didn' help dem atoll
fur dey couldn' make any a'tack dat dis place is so unsuited fur water
battles. But forest' battles wus fight on Beaufort Island and Port
Royale. We een Greenville didn' know enyt'ing 'bout whut wus goin' on
except what wus brought to us collud people by dose who wus sent to da
town. Mossa didn' tell us eny ting. Fur almos' four 'ears we stayed een
Greenville w'en suddenly one Chuesday mornin' bright an' early, Sheridan
came into Greenville on horse backs en' order ebery body to sarrendar.
Colonels an' Gen'rals came een de city widout de firin' of a gun. We
stayed dere 'til harvestin' time by de orders of Master Osland Bailey
who saw to it dat we wus given money as a share fur our wurk.
"Mossa's custom at de end of de week wus to give a dry peck o' corn
which you had to grin' on Sat'day ebenin' w'en his wurk wus done. Only
on Chris'mus he killed en give a piece o' meat. De driber did de
distribution o' de ration. All young men wus given four quarts o' corn
a week, while de grown men wus given six quarts. All of us could plant
as much lan' as we wuld fur our own use. We could raise fowls. My master
wus a gentleman, he treat all his slaves good. My fadder an' me wus his
favorite.
"Some o' de slaves had to wurk on Sunday to finish dere week's wurk. If
dey didn' de dribber who wus a Negro would give a lashin' varyin' frum
fifteen to twenty five chops. Only high-class massas had Negro
dribbters, de crackers had white overseers.
"Like odder slaves had to hide frum dere mastas to hab meetin', us could
hab ours any night we want to even widout his consent. When masta went
to town any o' his slaves could ax him to buy t'ings for dem een
Cha'leston. When Jews en peddlers came with clothes an' gunger to sell,
we as chillun would go to him an' ax fur money to buy whut we want.
"He had about four hund'ed acres of land which he divided in two half by
a fence. One 'ear he would plant one an' let de cattles pasture on de
oder. We could also raise hogs 'long wood his but had to change pasture
w'en he did. De people on his plantation didn' hab any need to steal
from him fur he didn' 'low us to want fur any thing.
"Dere wus three kinds of days wurk on de plantation: One is de whole
tas', meanin' a whole han' or a person een his prime. He wus given two
tas' fur dis day's wurk. A tas' carried frum twenty four to twenty five
rows which wus thirty-five feet long en twenty five feet wide. De shree
fourth han' wus given one whole tas' which consists of twelve rows. All
de young chillun wus included in dis group. De half han' was de old
slaves who did a half tas' for dere day's work. When it was time to pick
cotton, de shree fourth han' had to pick thirty pound' an' de half han'
twenty fur dere day's wurk. Dose who attended to the gin only include de
three fourth han'.
"Massa had shree kinds o' punishment fur dose who disobeyed him. One wus
de sweatbox. It wus made de height of de person an' no larger. Jus'
large 'nough so de person woodn' hab to be squeezed in. De box is
nailed an' een summer is put een de hot sun; een de winter it is put in
de coldest, dampest place. De next is de Stock. Wood is nailed on floor
with de person lyin' on his back wid hans an' feet tied wood a heavy
weight on de chest. De shird is de Bilboa. You are place on a high
scaffold fur so many hours an' if you don' try to keep a level head,
you'll fall an you will surely hurt yourself if your neck isn't broken.
Most o' de time dey were put dere so dey could break dere necks."
_SOURCE_
Information from an interview with Mr. Prince Smith, who is supposed to
be over a hundred years of age, Wardmalaw Island, S.C.
=Project 1885-1=
=Folklore=
=Spartanburg, Dist. 4=
=Nov. 29, 1937=
=Edited by:=
=Elmer Turnage=
=STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES=
"Lawsey, honey chile, how does I know jes' when I was born. All sech as
dat don't mean nothing to us old slave time darkies. De mis'tus say,
'Silas, you sho was thirteen years old when dat 'Federate War wound up!
Dat's all I knows and dat's what I goes by. De white folks is worrying
'bout my age being in sech and sech a year and all de like of dat. No
sech as dat don't worry Silas, kaise he sho don't give it no mind, dat I
doesn't.
"Mis'tus call us all to set down on de side steps wid our hats in our
hands. She read dat paper. When she git through, us still sets, kaise no
writing never aggrevated us niggers way back dar. She wait a few
minutes; den she 'low: 'It means dat you all is free, jes' as free as I
is.' 'Dumpling Pie' jumped up and started crying. We all looked at him,
kaise he was a fat lazy thing dat laid around like dumplings a-laying
over kraut, and we axed him what he was crying for. He say, 'I ain't
gwine to be no free nigger, kaise dat brings in de Issue, and I wants to
keep my ma and pa, and what is I'm gwine to do widout Marse Dusey?'
"Dat woke us up. Didn't narry nigger on dat entire plantation know what
to do widout his marster. It was de awfulest feeling dat everything in
dem quarters laid down wid dat night, de new feeling dat day was free
and never had no marster to tell dem what to do. You felt jes' like you
had done strayed off a-fishing and got lost. It sho won't no fun to be
free, kaise we never had nothing.
"Next morning Mis'tus low, 'Silas, I wants you to keep on being my house
boy.' Dat sound de best to me of any news dat I had got. She hired me
and I jes' kept on den as I had been gwine befo'. De quarters broke up,
kaise Marse Dusey couldn't keep all dem niggers, so Mis'tus low'd. Marse
was at de war and Mis'tus took things on.
"Dat left only a few in de quarter. In de meantime, carpetbaggers and
scalawags had put devilment in some of dem ig'nant niggers and dey
thought dat if dey leave, de U.S. gwine to give dem a plantation atter
de war had ceased, and plenty mules to make dem rich, like quality white
folks. So by dat time dey was a-raring to git moved off. But I stay on
wid Miss Sallie, as I called her den.
"One dark, rainy cold day a stranger come riding up on a po' hoss and
fetched a note of sorrow. Marse Dusey had done died somewhars, and
Mis'tus was widowed to de ground. I stayed on, and in a year she died.
Mr. Thomas Smith of Hickory Grove is de onliest chile living of my
mis'tus, and he is 71 years old.
"Atter Mis'tus died, I went to live wid my pa on Mr. 'Baby' John Smith's
place. He had been my pa's marster. Way back den it was so many John
Smiths. 'Pears like it was mo' den dan now. Dat why dey call Mis'tus'
husband 'John Dusey'. Each John had a frill to his name so dat folks
could keep dem straight in deir minds whenever dey would speak of dem.
Mis'tus sho was good to me. I 'members her chilluns' names well; Misses
Aurita and Amenta. Miss Amenta married Mr. Sam Jeffries. Miss Rachael,
Mis'tus other daughter, married Mr. John Morrow. Her 'Baby' John married
a lady whose name I jes' disremembers, anyway dey had a son called
'Jeff'. He lived between Hickory Grove and Broad River. All dese Smiths
which I gives you renumeration of is de Hickory Grove Smiths. You jes'
has to keep dem straight yet."
Source: Silas Smith (N, 85), Gaffney, S.C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. (11/27/37)
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, May 17, 1937=
=No. Words _____=
=Reduced from ____ words=
=Rewritten by=
=_____________=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 years.=
"Honey, my white folks been well-to-do peoples. Dey ain' been no poor
white trash. Dey hab 'stonishing blood in dey vein. I been b'long to
Massa Sam Stevenson wha' lib right down dere 'cross Ole Smith Swamp. Dey
ain' hab no chillun dey own, but dey is raise uh poor white girl dere,
Betty. Dey gi'e (give) she eve'yt'ing she ha'e en dey school she too."
"De ole man, he mind ain' been zactly right when he die. Dey say he bury
some o' he money down dere on he place jes 'fore he die. Coase I dunno
nuthin 'bout it, but dats wha' dey tell me. Dey say dey never is find
dat money a'ter he been dead. Reckon it dere yet, I dunno. Peoples
use'er aw de time be plough up kegs en box full o' money en va'uables
wha' de well-to-do folks been hide dere."
"De white peoples use'er bury dey silver en dey money en aw dey
va'uables late on uh evenin' er early on uh mornin' when de Yankees come
'bout. De Yankees 'stroy aw us white peoples va'uables wha' dey is see.
Um----dem Yankees sho' was 'structive whey dey is went."
"My ole mammy been Sally Stevenson 'fore she marry en den she wuz Sally
Bowens. My ole Missus take she 'way from her mammy when she wuz jes uh
little small girl en never wouldn't 'low her go in de colored
settlement no more. She been raise up in de white folks house to be de
house girl. Never didn't work none tall outside. She sleep on uh pallet
right down by de Missus bed. She sleep dere so she kin keep de Missus
kivver (cover) up aw t'rough de night. My mammy ain' never do nuthin but
been de house girl. My Missus larnt (learned) she how to cut en sew so
she been good uh seamstress is dere wuz anywhey. She help de Missus make
aw de plantation clothes en dere ain' never been no better washer en
ironer no whey den my ole mammy wuz."
"When I wuz uh little small girl, us lib right dere in my ole Missus
yard. Dey le' us chillun play aw us wanna den. Never did hadder do none
hard work tall. My Massa is some uh time send we chillun in de field to
scare de crow offen de corn. Ain' never been no hoe hand in me life.
When dey send we to scare de crow 'way, we is go in de field when fuss
(first) sun up en we is stay dere aw day. Coase we is come to de house
when 12 o'clock come en ge' we sumptin uh eat. Dese white folks 'round
here don' hab no chillun to scare de crow offen dey corn nowadays. Dey
has aw kind o' ole stick sot (set) 'bout in de field wid ole pant en
coat flying 'bout on dem to scare de crow 'way. Dere be plenty crow
'bout nowadays too. I hears em hollerin aw 'bout in dis sky 'round 'bout
here."
"I 'member when I use'er nu'se de white folks baby. I al'ays did lub to
nu'se de babies, but I didn't never lub to nu'se no ug'y baby. I lub to
hab uh pretty baby to nu'se. Didn't lak no boy baby neither. Don' lak
boy baby nohow. Lubbed little girl baby. Lubbed to take de little girls
en dress em up in dey pretty clothes en carry dem out under de trees to
'muse dem whey dere wuz plenty peoples 'bout to see em. Mammy al'ays 'ud
fuss at me 'bout puttin' on dey best clothes, but I ain' never do lak
dese nu'se do nowadays. I take care o' my babies, didn't never 'low em
wallow in de dirt lak yunnah see dese nu'se do 'bout here dese day en
time."
"I 'members one time I been nu'se little boy baby en I is larnt he hair
to curl jes uz pretty. I bresh he hair eve'y morning en twist it 'round
me finger en he is had pretty curl uz dere wuz anywhey. Never lak de
Missus to cut my baby hair off neither when I had larnt it to curl."
"I been lub to wash little baby clothes too. I is primp em up so nice.
Never did put no starch much in em. I do me best on em en when I ge'
t'rough, dey been look too nice to le' de child muss up."
"Honey, I can' stand no chillun fuss 'round me no more dese days. Don'
hab no chillun fuss 'round me peaceful little place. I tell aw me
chillun en grandchillun en great-grandchillun dat I can' stand no
chillun fuss 'round me no more. My Sammie, he marry three times en I ax
him why he wanna marry so many time. I ain' never see no man I is wan'
since my ole man die."
"I ain' wha' I use'er to be, child. I ain' able to do nuthin more now
but dem little bit o' clothes wha' Miss Betty hab. Coase she clothes
ain' hard to wash. Miss Betty mighty clean, honey, she mighty clean. She
don' strip she bed but eve'y udder week en den de sheet ain' dirty one
speck. She does wash she self eve'y day en de sheet don' ge' de crease
out dem from one time dey wash till de next. I say I gwinna wash Miss
Betty clothes jes uz long uz de Massa'll le' me em."
_Source_: Personal interview with Mom Jessie Sparrow,
age 83, colored, Marion, S.C., May 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date. May 24, 1937=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 years.=
"I dunno, child, I don' 'member nuthin more den I tell yuh de udder
time. Is yuh been to see Maggie Black yet? I dunno how old she, but I
know she been here. No, child, Maggie ain' dead. She lib right down dere
next Bethel Church. She move 'way from Miss Mullins house when Gus die.
Coase I ain' ne'er been in she house a'ter she move dere, but dey say
she hab uh mighty restful place dere. Dat wha' dey tell me. Maggie
oughta could tell yuh aw 'bout dem times. I ain' know nuthin more to
tell yuh. Don' tell yuh aw I know."
"Who my mammy wuz? My mammy been Sallie Stevenson 'fore she marry en den
a'ter she marry, she waz Sallie Bowens. Don' know whey dey ge' de Bowens
from cause my pa been b'long to be uh Evans. Dat how come Miss Betty
know so much 'bout me. She say we mighty nigh de same age. Coase I don'
never 'spute Miss Betty word, but I don' t'ink so."
"No, child, I dunno. Dunno how many chillun my mammy is hab. Dey aw been
die sech uh long time dat I don' forgot. Coase George, de carpenter, my
brother. He been train up by uh good carpenter man en Henry, wha' paint
aw dese house 'bout here, b'long to be annuder one uv we. It jes lak
'bout my own chillun, I ain' 'member how many dey wuz. I know dere 'bout
t'ree uv dem bigguns dead, but aw dem babies, Lawd, I ain' 'member how
many dere wuz. Can' never recollect nuthin 'bout how many dere been come
here."
"My mammy been de house girl in my white folks house. She marry when she
ain' but 13 year old. Dat wha' she tell me. She say she marry to ge'
outer de big house. Dat how come she to marry so soon. Say de white
folks take she way from she mammy when she won' but uh little small girl
en make she sleep right dere on uh pallet in de Missus room aw de time
'fore she marry. Coase a'ter she marry, she been de house girl right on
but she never stay in de Missus house when night come. Us chillun ain'
been 'low to stay in de big house. Dey hab uh room put on de kitchen fa
my mammy en she family to lib in. We chillun stay right dere in de yard
whey my mammy could look a'ter us in en 'round. My mammy hadder stay
'bout my ole Missus aw de day en help she cut en sew de plantation
clothes en wash en iron. Den she hadder help make quilts outer aw de
scrap dat been left o'er a'ter de garment was cut out."
"Us chillun been fed from de table right dere in de Missus kitchen en
some uv de time my mammy 'ud bring us sumptin to eat, wha' wuz cook in
de Missus kitchen, en le' us eat it in she room. Dey'ud gi'e us hominy
en milk en meat fa us break'ast. My white folks hadder uh lot uv cows en
dey'ud gi'e us chillun plenty milk en clabber to eat. We is hab milk en
clabber eve'y day en dey is gi'e us plenty meat to eat, so dey is dat.
Child, I ain' know no slack eatin' 'round my ole Missus. Some uv de time
we hab hoecake en den annuder time dey'ud gi'e us obben (oven) bread.
Dey cook eve'yt'ing on de fireplace in dem days, eve't'ing. Jes hab rods
put 'cross de fireplace in de kitchen wid pot hang on it. Dat whey dey
cook us ration. Dey'ud gi'e us t'ings lak peas en collards en meat fa we
dinner. Den dey'ud gi'e us uh big bowl uv corn bread en clabber late in
de evenin' cause jes lak I is call to yuh jes now, dey is use milk right
smart in dem days. I lak eve'yt'ing wha' dey is hab to eat den. Dey
never eat lak dese peoples eats nowadays. I won' larnt to lak aw kind uv
t'ing. Dey use'er cook poke salad wha' been season wid meat. Don' yuh
know wha' dat? Poke salad is come up jes lak dose weed out dere en dey
is cut de top offen dem en take aw de hard part outer em en den dey is
boil em uh long time wid meat. Dey is eat right good too. Don' lak
spinach en aw dat sumptin en don' lak celery neither. Don' lak butter
put in nuthin I eats. I laks me squash fried down brown lak wid grease
in de pan. I laks me beets wid uh little vinegay on em en season wid
some sugar sprinkle on em. Don' lak em jes wid nuthin but uh little salt
en butter smear aw o'er dem lak some uv dese peoples 'bout here eat em
nowadays."
"Yas'um, we use'er eat plenty uv em possum. Eve'y one dey is ketch, us
parent cook it. Us eat aw kinder wild animal den sech uz coon, possum,
rabbit, squirrel en aw dat. Hab plenty uv fish in dem days too. Hab pond
right next de white folks house en is ketch aw de fish dere dat we is
wan'. Some uv de time dey'ud fry em en den some uv de time dey'ud make
uh stew. Dey'ud put uh little salt en onion en grease in de stew en
anyt'ing dey been ge' hold uv."
"Massa Sam been hab uh heap uv colored peoples 'sides we, but dey lib up
on de hill in de quarters. My Missus, she see to it she self dat dey hab
good bed wha' to sleep on en plenty sumptin uh eat. She docker (doctor)
em when dey ge' sick too en she be mighty anxious ef dey sick mucha. Us
hab good clothes en shoes den too. Coase de peoples'ud wear more clothes
den, en dey'ud put on more undey shirt in de winter den dey wear in de
summer. My white folks'ud make de plantation clothes outer gingham en
jeanes cloth mostly. Dat jeanes cloth be wha' dey make little coat en
pant outer. Dat sumptin jes lak homespun."
"No, child, dey ain' ne'er gi'e us no money den. Never need no money
den. My Massa been provide eve't'ing us hab, honey, eve'yt'ing. We ain'
lak fa nuthin den. We chillun ain' been big 'nough to do nuthin but
scare de crow offen de corn en some uv de time my ole Missus'ud hab we
chillun sweepin' outer in de yard when she be out dere wid us."
"Yas'um, honey, my white folks al'ays'ud see dat dey colored peoples'ud
go to chu'ch (church) eve'y Sunday. We hadder walk dere to de white big
Methodist Chu'ch up de road en sot en de gallery. Yas'um de white folks
is stay down en we is go up. Ef we chillun never go, my ole Missus'ud
teach us de catechism right dere in de back yard. Hadder wash us face en
hand en come dere to she. Yas'um, I 'members dat aw right."
"My white folks'ud ride to chu'ch in dey big ole carriage en dey
driver'ud hab dey big black hosses bresh jes uz shiny. I forge' de
driver name. Dey hab uh pair uv dem black hosses wha' been match hosses
en dey is look jes lak. En den one day de ole Yankees is come t'rough
dere en dey is carry one uv dem 'way. A'ter dat dey hadder use one uv de
plantation hoss in de place uv dis carriage hoss. De Missus'ud al'ays
take my mammy in de carriage wid she too. Never left her home, so she
tell me. Jes stuff she down dere 'tween de seats somewhey."
_Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, colored, Marion, S.C.
Personal interview, May 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project No. 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, September 7, 1937=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 Years=
=Marion, S.C.=
"No, honey, dere ain' not a soul live here but me. Man stay in dat other
room dere just to be a little bit of company for me when night come. He
ain' not a speck of kin to me, not a speck. Oh, he pay me a little
somethin, but it not much. Mostly, I does want him for protection like.
Ain' got but just dis one room for myself cause dat part out dere does
be just like out in de yard. Dis Miss Mary Watson house en she tell me
stay on here dat de house ain' worth no fixin. Don' know how long I be
here. No, honey, I ain' got no property only just myself. Ain' got not a
bit. Ain' got nothin, child. I can' do no work dese days but dat little
bit of washin dat Miss Betty have en dat ain' nothin to depend on. Just
try to do a little somethin to help myself along. Nothin worth to speak
bout though."
"Miss Betty say we bout one age. My daddy belonged to Miss Betty father
en dat how-come she know dere ain' much difference in us age. My mammy
was de house 'oman on old man Sam Stevenson plantation en dat whe' I was
born. When we was freed, I was a little small girl en my daddy moved us
up here in town right over dere on de Gibson place. Fore den, when he
have a mind to see us, he had to come cross de swamp dere to old man Sam
Stevenson place en dat de reason he move us. He say it take too much
pains to keep dat gwine back en forth. I remembers I finished growin
right up here in dis town over dere on de Gibson place. My mammy have
task to cook dere en my daddy been de butler man, but I was small den.
Can' recollect much bout it. Reckon I wouldn' hardly know de place whe'
I was born if I go back dere now. De old man Sam Stevenson had nice
house, but it burn down long time back. Dey tell me dat de first court
de peoples in Marion did ever know bout meet right dere on dat same
spot. Coase I don' know nothin bout it, but dat what I hear dem say."
"My Massa had a big plantation, honey, a big plantation wid heap of
colored people house. I remember dey call up dat way from de house on de
hill en all de servants house set up dere. So I hear my mammy say she
know bout some white folks dat didn' half feed dey colored people en
didn' half clothe dem in de winter neither, but our white folks always
treat us mighty good. Put shoes on all us feet in de winter en give us
abundance of ration all de time."
"Honey, I hear dem talkin bout dat war, but I can' tell you nothin bout
dat. I recollects I see dem Yankees when dey come through my Massa
plantation en took his best carriage horse. Had two of dem big black
carriage horses dat was match horses en dem Yankees carry one of dem
away wid dem. I hear dem say de white folks would bury dey silver en
money in pots en barrels to hide dem from de Yankees. Oh, dem fiddlin
Yankees ax nobody nothin. Just go in de house en take dat what dey
wanted. Go right in de house en plunder round en take de peoples best
things. Wouldn' take no common things. Wasn' right, but dey done it. I
hear talk dat a man plowed up a chest or somethin another de other day
full of money, so dey tells me. I hear plenty peoples plow up all kind
of things dese days in old fields dat ain' been broke up or throwed out
for years. I hear so, but I know I ain' never found none though."
"I sho been here when dat shake come here, child. I been married ever
since I was a grown 'oman en I was stayin right over yonder in dat house
dere. My son Henry was de baby on me lap den en he tell me de other day
dat he was bout 50 now. It come like a wind right from dat way. Some
people tell me de ground was just a shakin en a mixin up, but I don'
know how de ground was doin cause I never go on it. I hear de
lumberation comin or dat what I calls it en it come long en hit de side
of de house so hard dat all de dishes was just a rattlin. Every time de
earth commence shakin, dem dish start jinglin. It come bout de early
part of de night. I didn' know what to think it was till somebody come
dere en say it been a earthquake. Say de ground was just a workin up. I
tell you I ain' know what it was to be scared of, but dere been de old
Ark (boarding house) standin cross de street den en dem people was
scared most to death. Dey thought it was de Jedgment comin on. Reckon I
would been scared worser den I was, but I didn' get on de ground. No,
honey, I reckon de house dat was standin up in dat day en time was
substantial like en it didn' worry none of dem."
"Is you seen Maggie Black any more? She been right sick, but she better
now. Yes, she been right puny. Don' know what ail her."
"Honey, what can you tell me bout dat white man dat been shoot up bout
Mullins de other day. I hear people talk bout a man been shot by another
man, but I ain' know nothin more den dat. Ain' hear none of de details
only as dey tell me dey catch de man dat got away next Dillon tryin to
get back home. I tell you it a bad place up dere in Mullins durin dis
tobacco time. Dey tell me dere be such a stir up dat people be rob en
shoot all bout dere. Dat de reason I stay back here whe' ain' nobody to
worry me. Some of dem be seekin for you when you sleep en den another
time dey get you when you gwine long de road. I don' like so much fuss
en rousin en mix up round me. Dat de reason I does stay here by myself."
"De people just livin too fast dis day en time, honey. You know some of
dese people, I mean my race, dey got a little bit of education en ain'
got no manners. I tell dem if dey ain' got no manners, dey ain' got
nothin cause manners carries people whe' a dollar won' carry you. Dis
education don' do everybody no good. It get some of dem standin on de
top of dey heads. Dat what it done to dem. Coase dey say everybody
chillun got to go to school dis year en dat a good thing cause dere be
so many runnin round makin mischief when dey ain' in school. I used to
tell my chillun I buy dey book en satchel en keep plenty meat en bread
for dem to eat en dey portion been to go dere en get dey learnin. If dey
get whippin at school, I tell dem go back en get more. Didn' never
entice dem to stay home."
"All I know bout Abraham Lincoln was dat he Abraham Lincoln en he de one
cause freedom. I recollect dey used to sing song bout him, but I done
forget it now. Say dey hung Abraham Lincoln on de sour apple tree or old
Jeff Davis or somethin like dat. Honey, dat all I know. Can' recollect
nothin more den dat bout it."
"Child, dis a pretty bad time de people got dese days, I tell you. Coase
I thankful don' nobody worry me. All treats me nice, both white en
black, what knows me. I be gwine down de street en folks come out de
courthouse en say, 'Ain dat Mom Jessie? Mom Jessie, don' you remember
me?' I say, 'I know your favor, but I can' call your name.' Dey tell me
en laugh en let me lone. It just like dis, child, I puts my trust in de
Lord en I lives mighty peaceful like. I ain' got a enemy in de world
cause everybody speaks appreciatively of me. Dere somebody bringin me
somethin to eat all de time en I don' be studyin bout it neither. First
one en den de other bring me a plate en somethin another. Don' want me
to do no cookin. Say I might fall in de fire. Honey, de lady come by
here de other day en tell me I gwine get de old 'oman money pretty soon
now dat dere been so much talk bout. I be thankful when it get here too,
child, cause I wants to get first one thing en de other to do some fixin
up bout my house."
"Well, honey, I tired now cause I ain' much today nohow. Can' recollect
nothin else dis mornin. Don' know what you want to hear bout all dem
things for nohow."
_Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, ex-slave, Bond Street,
Marion, S.C.--Third Report.
Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Sept., 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, December 7, 1937=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 Years=
"No, I ain' cold. I settin in de sun. Miss Ida, she went by here just
now en call at me bout de door been open en lettin dat cold wind blow in
on my back wid all de fire gone out. I tell her, it ain' botherin me
none, I been settin out in de sun. Well, I don' feel much to speak bout,
child, but I knockin round somehow. Miss Ida, she bring me dis paper to
study on. She does always be bringin me de Star cause she know dat I
love to see de news of Marion. It right sad bout de Presbyterian
preacher, but everybody got to die, I say. Right sad though. We hear dat
church bell here de other evenin en we never know what it been tollin
for. I holler over dere to Maggie house en ax her how-come de church
bell tollin, but she couldn' tell me nothin bout it. Reckon some chillun
had get hold of it, she say. I tell her, dat bell never been pull by no
chillun cause I been hear death note in it. Yes, honey, de people sho
gwine horne (grieve) after Dr. Holladay."
"I say, I doin very well myself en I thankful I ain' down in de bed.
Mighty thankful I ain' down in de bed en can set up en talk wid de
people when dey comes to see me. I ain' been up dere on your street in a
long time. Can' do much walkin dese days cause I ain' got no strength to
speak bout. Ain' been up town dere in bout two months. Mr. Jervey ax
John Evans what de matter dat I ain' been comin to de store to get my
rations en John Evans tell him I been under de weather. Somehow another,
dey all likes me up dere en when dey don' see me up town on Saturday,
dey be axin bout me. Mr. Jervey, he come here de other day en bring me
some tobacco en syrup en cheese en some of dem other things what he know
dat I used to buy dere. He tell me dey all was wantin to see me back up
dere again. I say, I can' go up dere cause I give way in my limbs en
just comes right down whe' I don' have nothin to catch to. Got dis old
stick here dat I balances myself on when I goes out round bout de house
here. Cose I don' venture to steady myself no far ways on it."
"No, child, I ain' been up your way in a long time. I wash for Miss
Betty all my best days, but I ain' been up to de house in many a mornin.
Miss Betty like myself now, she old. I tell dem up dere to de house, de
last time I talk wid dem, don' mind Miss Betty cause her mind ain' no
good. I say, just gwine on en do what you got to do en let Miss Betty
rest. You see, Miss Betty always would have her way en dis ain' no time
to think bout breakin her neither. Cose I don' know nothin bout it, but
Miss Betty say we bout one age."
"I reckon Miss Betty got plenty pecans dis year cause she does rake dem
up by de tubfuls bout dis time of de year. I got my share of dem last
year, but I ain' got no mind dat I gwine get any dis year less I go up
dere. Yes, mam, I got my share last year cause when I went to carry
Miss Betty washin home, I could pick up all I wanted while I come
through under de trees. My Lord, Miss Betty, she had a quantity of dem
last year, but I ain' hear what de crop doin dis year. I don' care
though cause I wouldn' eat dem nohow widout I beat dem up en I ain' in
no shape to go to all dat trouble. I loves peanuts good as anybody, but
I couldn' never chew dem widout dey was beat up."
"Honey, my child en her daughter comin from de northern states dis
Christmas to see me. Her name Evelyn, but dey call her Missie. She write
here dat she want to come en I tell my Sammie to send word dey is
welcome. Cose dey gwine stay wid my son, Sammie, cause dey got more room
den I is en dey got a cookin stove, too, but she gwine be in en out here
wid her old mammy off en on. Yes'um, I wants to see her mighty bad since
it be dat she been gone from here so long. When she first went up dere,
she worked for a white family dere to Hartford, Connecticut, but it won'
long fore she got in a fidget to marry en she moved dere to
Philadelphia. Dat whe' she livin now, so my Sammie tell me."
"Den dere another one of my chillun dat I say, I don' never 'spect to
see no more on dis side of de world. Evelina, she get married en go way
out west to live. She de one what used to nurse Lala up dere to Miss
Owens' house. My God, honey, she been crazy bout Lala. Don' care what
she been buy on a Saturday evenin, she would save some of it till
Monday to carry to dat child. My Evelina, she always would eat en she
used to bring Lala here wid her a heap of times to get somethin to eat.
She would come in en fetch her dat tin plate up dere full of corn bread
en molasses en den she would go to puttin dem ration way. Would put her
own mouth full en den she would cram some of it down Lala's mouth in de
child's belly. You see, I always would keep a nice kind of syrup in de
safe cause I don' like none dese kind of syrup much, but dis here ribbon
cane syrup. My Lord, dat child would stand up dere en eat just as long
as Evelina poke it down her. Oh, Lala been just a little thing plunderin
bout en I tell Evelina dat she ought not to feed dat child dem coarse
ration, but she say, 'Lala want some en I gwine give it to her cause I
loves her.' No, child, Miss Owens never didn' worry her mind bout whe'
Evelina been carry dat child. You see, she been put trust in Evelina."
"I don' know what to tell you, honey. I bout like Miss Betty now. My
'membrance short dese days. Oh, I hear talk bout all kind of signs de
people used to worry over en some of dem still frets bout dem, too. Hear
talk dat you mustn't wash none on de New Years' Day. It bad luck, so a
heap of dem say. Den some folks say it a sign of death to hear a owl
holler at night. Some people can' bear to hear dem, but don' no owls
worry me, I say. Lord, Maggie, dis child ax me how a owl holler when it
a sign of death. Well, dey does holler a right good space apart. Don'
holler right regular. I ain' hear one holler now in a long time, but I
used to hear dem be hollerin plenty times out dere somewhe' another in
dem trees. Say, when some people been hear dem holler on a night, dey
would stick a fire iron in de fire en dat would make de owl quit off. I
hear talk bout a lot of people would do dat. Den dere another sign de
people does have bout de New Years' Day. Reckon dat what dey call it, I
don' know. No, mam, I don' understand nothin bout it, but I does hear
people speak bout dey craves to get a cup of peas en a hunk of hog jowl
on de first day of de year. Say, dem what put faith in dem kind of
victuals on de New Years' Day, dey won' suffer for nothin no time all de
next year. Cose I don' know, but I say dat I eats it cause I loves it."
"Well, child, dat bout all I know to speak bout dis evenin. It gettin so
cold, I don' know whe' I can manage here much longer or no. Cose my
Sammie, he want me to go stay dere wid him, but I can' stand no chillun
fuss round me no more. I tell him dese people bout here be in en out to
ax bout me right smart en I think bout I better stay here whe' dere ain'
nobody to mind what I do. You see, honey, old people is troublesome en I
don' want to be noways burdensome to nobody. Yes, mam, I gwine be right
here waitin, if de Lord say so, de next time I see you makin up dat
path."
_Source_: Mom Jessie Sparrow, age 83, colored, Marion, S.C.
Personal interview by Annie R. Davis, Dec., 1937.
=Code No.=
=Project, 1885-(1)=
=Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis=
=Place, Marion, S.C.=
=Date, October 11, 1937=
=MOM JESSIE SPARROW=
=Ex-Slave, 83 Years=
"Good morning, honey, I ain' much today. How you is? No, I can' talk
nothin bout dem times today. Ain' know no more den I done tell you. I
doin very well considerin I can' get bout like I wants to. Doin very
well, honey. Peoples mighty nice to me, white en black. Cose I don'
venture to get far off de lot, I be so poorly dese days. Ain' been bout
up town dere in a month since Saturday."
"Well, my chillun say for me to go live wid dem, but I don' want to go
down to dat other far end of de town. I tell dem dey worry me so dat I
think I rather be here in dis piece of house. See, I has such good
neighbors bout me here en dere be so much a fightin en gwine on in dat
other end of town. All de peoples speaks well of me, both white en
black, of dem dat knows me. Yes, mam, Miss Ellen tell me fore she die
for me to stay right here in dis house long as I live en ain' nobody is
gwine worry me neither. No, child, Miss Mary Watson don' worry me, not
one speck bout dis house. Miss Mary de only child dat Miss Ellen got
left here. No, honey, I ain' studyin bout gwine nowhe' yet. Cose de
house may fall down on me cause dat dere old kitchen over dere was good
when I come here, but it rot down. Dat how-come I ain' got no stove. De
kitchen rot down en de rain come in on de stove en rust it out. No, dey
don' worry me none. I tell dem I ain' got nothin, but I settin here just
as satisfied like. Cose I may get a little pension soon, but don' know
when it gwine get here. I ain' hear tell of nobody gettin it yet. I
tell lady dat come here if I get it, it be all right en if I don' get
it, dat be all right too."
"Big sale on today, ain' dere, child? I hear talk bout dey gwine sell
all de Witcover property en all dat, but I don' know. Dey sho got a
pretty day for it. I had on my old thick sweater, but it too hot. I had
to pull it off en put on dis here thin jacket. Can' go bout too naked,
honey."
"Yes'um, I know it was you come here de other night. Cose I can' see so
good, but I can hear de people voice en tell who dere time I hear dem
comin up dat path. You see, I don' light my lamp first night nohow, dere
be so much grass round here de mosquitoes comes in en worries me right
smart."
"Miss Foxworth en dem fixin to plant dey turnips over dere. Miss
Foxworth, I likes her very well to speak. She good-hearted, kind en
clever. She comes over en talks wid me often cause us been friends ever
since fore de old man been gone. Dey ain' got no kind of garden yet, but
dey fixin to plant a fall garden out dere."
"No, child, I done put Miss Betty clothes down. Tell her I ain' able to
wash no more en my Lord, Miss Betty sho hate to hear me say dat. Won'
dat Miss Betty clothes was so hard, but it was de totin dem back en
forth en den dere be so little bit of money in dem, didn' pay to hire
nobody to carry dem. Cose she didn' pay me nothin worth much cause she
didn' never have nothin much, but a little changin of underclothes en
bout one dress. Just had to starch bout one petticoat en one dress, but
I can' hardly wash for myself dese days en I wouldn' never venture to do
hers no more. No, honey, my conscience wouldn' allow me to overpower
Miss Betty for dem little bit of somethin en dey ain' dirty neither. You
see, since Miss Emma been stayin dere, she in charge de house en uses
all her tablecloths en such as dat. Miss Emma, she mighty nice to me.
Every time I go up dere en I ain' been doin nothin for her neither, she
see can she find a cup of fresh milk or somethin another to hand me."
"Reckon I gwine be lonesome right bout dis side next week cause all de
colored schools gwine be open up Monday. You see, dere be so many school
chillun en teacher livin on dis here
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