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Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews with Former Slaves, Volume XVI, Texas Narratives, Part 4

by United States. Work Projects Administration · English · Gutenberg #35381 · 372,402 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews with Former Slaves, Volume XVI, Texas Narratives, Part 4

Author: United States. Work Projects Administration


        
Release date: February 23, 2011 [eBook #35381]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35381

Credits: Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES: A FOLK HISTORY OF SLAVERY IN THE UNITED STATES FROM INTERVIEWS WITH FORMER SLAVES, VOLUME XVI, TEXAS NARRATIVES, PART 4 ***




Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net.

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 XVI

TEXAS NARRATIVES--PART 4


Prepared by the Federal Writers' Project of

the Works Progress Administration

for the State of Texas

[HW:] Handwritten note

[TR:] Transcriber's note




INFORMANTS


  - Mazique Sanco
  - Clarissa Scales
  - Hannah Scott
  - Abram Sells
  - George Selman
  - Callie Shepherd
  - Betty Simmons
  - George Simmons
  - Ben Simpson
  - Giles Smith
  - James W. Smith
  - Jordon Smith
  - Millie Ann Smith
  - Susan Smith
  - John Sneed
  - Mariah Snyder
  - Patsy Southwell
  - Leithean Spinks
  - Guy Stewart
  - William Stone
  - Yach Stringfellow
  - Bert Strong
  - Emma Taylor
  - Mollie Taylor
  - Jake Terriell
  - J.W. Terrill
  - Allen Thomas
  - Bill and Ellen Thomas
  - Lucy Thomas
  - Philles Thomas
  - William M. Thomas
  - Mary Thompson
  - Penny Thompson
  - Albert Todd
  - Aleck Trimble
  - Reeves Tucker
  - Lou Turner
  - Irella Battle Walker
  - John Walton
  - Sol Walton
  - Ella Washington
  - Rosa Washington
  - Sam Jones Washington
  - William Watkins
  - Dianah Watson
  - Emma Watson
  - James West
  - Adeline White
  - Sylvester Sostan Wickliffe
  - Daphne Williams
  - Horatio W. Williams
  - Lou Williams
  - Millie Williams
  - Rose Williams
  - Steve Williams
  - Wayman Williams
  - Willie Williams
  - Lulu Wilson
  - Wash Wilson
  - Willis Winn
  - Rube Witt
  - Ruben Woods
  - Willis Woodson
  - James G. Woorling
  - Caroline Wright
  - Sallie Wroe
  - Fannie Yarbrough
  - Litt Young
  - Louis Young
  - Teshan Young

*ILLUSTRATIONS*

Mazique Sanco
Clarissa Scales
Abram Sells
George Selman
Callie Shepherd
Betty Simmons
George Simmons
Giles Smith
James W. Smith
Jordon Smith
Millie Ann Smith
John Sneed
Mariah Snyder
Leithean Spinks
William Stone
Yach Stringfellow
Bert Strong
Emma Taylor
Allen Thomas
Bill and Ellen Thomas
Lucy Thomas
Philles Thomas
William M. Thomas
Mary Thompson
Penny Thompson
Albert Todd
Reeves Tucker
Lou Turner
Sol Walton
Rosa Washington
Sam Jones Washington
William Watkins
Emma Watson
James West
Adeline White
Daphne Williams
Lou Williams
Lou Williams' House
Millie Williams
Steve Williams
Wayman Williams and Henry Freeman
Willie Williams
Lulu Wilson
Wash Wilson
Willis Winn
Rube Witt
Ruben Woods
Willis Woodson
Sallie Wroe
Litt Young
Louis Young
Teshan Young







Mazique Sanco


*Mazique Sanco was born a slave of Mrs. Louisa Green, in Columbia, South
Carolina, on February 10, 1849. Shortly after Mazique was freed, he
enlisted in the army and was sent with the Tenth Cavalry to San Angelo,
then Fort Concho, Texas. After Mazique left the army he became
well-known as a chef, and worked for several large hotels. Mazique uses
little dialect. When asked where Mazique is, his young wife says, "In
his office," and upon inquiry as to the location of this office, she
replies mirthfully, "On de river," for since he is too old to work,
Mazique spends most of his time fishing.*

"My mistress owned a beautiful home and three hundred twenty acres of
land in the edge of Columbia, in South Carolina, just back of the state
house. Her name was Mrs. Louisa Green and she was a widow lady. That's
where I was born, but when her nephew, Dr. Edward Flemming, married Miss
Dean, I was given to him for a wedding present, and so was my mother and
her other children. I was a very small boy then, and when I was ten Dr.
Flemming gave me to his crippled mother-in-law for a foot boy. She got
crippled in a runaway accident, when her husband was killed. He had two
fine horses, fiery and spirited as could be had. He called them Ash and
Dash, and one day he and his wife were out driving and the horses ran
the carriage into a big pine tree, and Mr. Dean was killed instantly,
and Mrs. Dean couldn't ever help herself again. I waited on her. I had a
good bed and food and was let to earn ten cent shin plasters.

"When the war was over she called up her five families of slaves and
told us we could go or stay. Some went and some stayed. I was always an
adventurer, wanting to see and learn things, so I left and went back to
my mother with Mrs. Flemming.


[Illustration: _Mazique Sanco_]


"I only stayed there a few months and hired out to Major Legg, and
worked for him several years. I felt I wasn't learning enough, so I
joined the United States Army and with a hundred and eighty-five boys
went to St. Louis, Missouri. From there we were transferred with the
Tenth Cavalry to Fort Concho. I helped haul the lumber from San Antonio
to finish the buildings at the fort. I was there five years.

"After I went to work at private employment I did some carpenter work,
but most of the houses were adobe or pecan pole buildings, so I got a
job from Mr. Jimmy Keating as mechanic for awhile, and then drifted to
Mexico. Odd jobs were all I could get for awhile, so I landed in El Paso
and got a job in a hotel.

"That was the start of my success, for I learned to be a skilled chef
and superintended the kitchens in some of the largest hotels in Texas. I
made as high as $80.00, in Houston. My last work was done at the St.
Angelus Hotel here in San Angelo and if you don't believe I'm a good
cook, just look at my wife over there. When I married her she was
fourteen years old and weighed a hundred and fifteen pounds. Now it's
been a long time since I could get her on the scales, not since she
passed the two hundred pound mark."




Clarissa Scales


*Clarissa Scales, 79, was born a slave of William Vaughan, on his
plantation at Plum Creek, Texas. Clarissa married when she was fifteen.
She owns a small farm near Austin, but lives with her son, Arthur, at
1812 Cedar Ave., Austin.*

"Mammy's name was Mary Vaughan and she was brung from Baton Rouge, what
am over in Louisiana, by our master. He went and located on Plum Creek,
down in Hays County.

"Mammy was a tall, heavy-set woman, more'n six foot tall. She was a
maid-doctor after freedom. Dat mean she nussed women at childbirth. She
allus told me de last thing she saw when she left Baton Rouge was her
mammy standin' on a big, wood block to be sold for a slave. Dat de last
time she ever saw her mammy. Mammy died 'bout fifty years ago. She was
livin' on a farm on Big Walnut Creek, in Travis County. Daddy done die a
year befo' and she jes' grieves herself to death. Daddy was sho' funny
lookin', 'cause he wore long whiskers and what you calls a goatee. He
was field worker on de Vaughan plantation.

"Master Vaughan was good and treated us all right. He was a great white
man and didn't have no over seer. Missy's name was Margaret, and she was
good, too.

"My job was tendin' fires and herdin' hawgs. I kep' fire goin' when de
washin' bein' done. Dey had plenty wood, but used corn cobs for de fire.
Dere a big hill corn cobs near de wash kettle. In de evenin' I had to
bring in de hawgs. I had a li'l whoop I druv dem with, a eight-plaited
rawhide whoop on de long stick. It a purty sight to see dem hawgs go
under de slip-gap, what was a rail took down from de bottom de fence, so
de hawgs could run under.

"Injuns used to pass our cabin in big bunches. One time dey give mammy
some earrings, but when they's through eatin' they wants dem earrings
back. Dat de way de Injuns done. After feedin' dem, mammy allus say, 'Be
good and kind to everybody.'

"One day Master Vaughan come and say we's all free and could go and do
what we wants. Daddy and mammy rents a place and I stays until I's
fifteen. I wanted to be a teacher, but daddy kep' me hoein' cotton most
de time. Dat's all he knowed. He allus told me it was 'nough larnin'
could I jes' read and write. He never even had dat much. But he was de
good farmer and good to me and mammy.

"Dere was a school after freedom. Old Man Tilden was de teacher. One
time a bunch of men dey calls de Klu Klux come in de room and say, 'You
git out of here and git 'way from dem niggers. Don' let us cotch you
here when we comes back.' Old Man Tilden sho' was scart, but he say,
'You all come back tomorrow.' He finishes dat year and we never hears of
him 'gain. Dat a log schoolhouse on Williamson Creek, five mile south of
Austin.


[Illustration: _Clarissa Scales_]


"Den a cullud teacher named Hamlet Campbell come down from de north. He
rents a room in a big house and makes a school. De trustees hires and
pays him and us chillen didn't have to pay. I got to go some, and I
allus tells my granddaughter how I's head of de class when I does go.
She am good in her studies, too.

"When I's fifteen I marries Benjamin Calhoun Scales and he was a farmer.
We had five chillen and three boys is livin'. One am a preacher and
Arthur am a cement laborer and Chester works in a printin' shop.

"Benjie dies on February 15th, dis year (1937). I lives with Arthur and
de gov'ment gives me $10.00 de month. I has de li'l farm of nineteen
acres out near Oak Hill and Floyd, de preacher, lives on dat. All my
boys is good to me. Dey done good, and better'n we could, 'cause we
couldn't git much larnin' dem days. I's had de good life. But we
'preciated our chance more'n de young folks does nowadays. Dey has so
much dey don't have to try so hard. If we'd had what dey got, we'd thunk
we was done died and gone to Glory Land. Maybe dey'll be all right when
deys growed."




Hannah Scott


*Hannah Scott was born in slavery, in Alabama. She does not know her age
but says she was grown when her last master, Bat Peterson, set her free.
Hannah lives with her grandson in a two-room house near the railroad
tracks, in Houston, Texas. Unable to walk because of a paralytic stroke,
Hannah asked her grandson to lift her from the bed to a chair, from
which she told her story.*

"Son, move de chair a mite closer to de stove. Dere, dat's better,
'cause de heat kind of soople me up. Ain't nothin' left of me but some
skin and bones, nohow.

"Lemme see now. I's born in Alabama and I think dey calls it Fayette
County. Mama's name was Ardissa and she 'long to Marse Clark Eccles, but
us chillen allus call him White Pa. Miss Hetty, his wife, we calls her
White Ma.

"I never knowed my own pa, 'cause he 'long to 'nother man and was sold
away 'fore I's old 'nough to know him. Mama has five us chillen, but dey
all dead 'ceptin' me. Dey didn't have no marriage back den like now. Dey
just puts black folks together in de sight of man and not in de sight of
Gawd, and dey puts dem asunder, too.

"Marse Eccles didn't have no big place and only nine slaves. I guess he
what you calls 'poor folks,' but he mighty good to he black folks. I
'member when he sold us to Bat Peterson. He and White Ma break down and
cry when old Bat puts us in de wagon and takes us off to Arkansas. I
heared mama say something 'bout White Pa sellin' us for debt and he gits
a hunerd dollars for me.

"Whoosh, it sho' was a heap dif'ent from Alabama. Marse Bat had niggers.
I reckon he must of had a hunerd of dem and two nigger drivers, Uncle
Green and Uncle Jake, and a overseer. Marse Bat was mean, too, and work
he slaves from daylight till nine o'clock at night. I carries water for
de hands. I carries de bucket on my head and 'fore long I ain't got no
more hair on my head den you has on de palm of you hand. No, suh!

"When I gits bigger, de overseer puts me in de field with de rest. Marse
Bat grow mostly cotton and it don't make no dif'ence is you big or li'l,
you better keep up or de drivers burn you up with de whip, sho' 'nough.
Old Marse Bat never put a lick on me all de years I 'longs to him, but
de drivers sho' burnt me plenty times. Sometime I gits so tired come
night, I draps right in de row and gone to sleep. Den de driver come
'long and, wham, dey cuts you 'cross de back with de whip and you wakes
up when it lights on you, yes, suh! 'Bout nine o'clock dey hollers
'cotton up' and dat de quittin' signal. We goes to de quarters and jes'
drap on de bunk and go to sleep without nothin' to eat.

"On old Bat's place dat all us know, is work and more work. De onlies'
time we has off am Sunday and den we has to wash and mend clothes. De
first Sunday of de month a white preacher come, but all he say is
'bedience to de white folks, and we hears 'nough of dat without him
tellin' us.

"I 'member when White Pa come to try git mama and us chillen back. We
been in Arkansas five, six year, and, whoosh, I sho' wants to go back to
my White Pa, but old Bat wouldn't let us go. He come to our quarters dat
night and tell mama if she or us chillen try to run off he'll kill us.
Dey sho' watch us for awhile.

"Sometimes one of de niggers runs off but he ain't gone long. He gits
hongry and comes back. Den he gits a burnin' with de bullwhip. Does he
run 'way again, Marse Bat say he got too much rabbit in him and chains
him up till he goes to Little Rock and sells him.

"I heared some white folks treat dey slaves good and give dem time off,
but Marse Bat don't. We has plenty to eat and clothes, but dat all. Dat
de way it was till we's freed, only it wasn't in Arkansas. It was down
to Richmond, here in Texas, 'cause Marse Bat rents a farm at Richmond.
He thunk if he brung us to Texas he wouldn't have to set us free. But he
got fooled, 'cause a gov'ment man come tell us we's free. We had de crop
planted and old Bat say if we'll stay through pickin' he'll pay us. Mama
and us stayed awhile.

"I gits married legal with Richard Scott and we comes to Harrisburg and
he gits a job on de section of de railroad. I's lived here ever since.
My husban' and me raises five chillen, but only de one gal am alive now.
My grandson takes care of me. He tells me iffen my husband lived so
long, he be 107 years old. I know he was older dan me, but not 'xactly
how much.

"Sometime I feel I's been here too long, 'cause I's paralyzed and can't
move round none. But maybe de Lawd ain't ready for me yet, and de Debbil
won't have me."




Abram Sells


*Abram Sells was born a slave on the Rimes Plantation, which was located
about 18 miles southeast of Newton, Texas. He does not know his age, but
must be well along in the 80's, as his recollections of slavery days are
keen. He lives at Jamestown, Texas.*

"I was birthed on the Rimes Plantation, now called Harrisburg. My
great-grand-daddy's name was Bowser Rimes and he was brung to Texas from
Louisiana and die at 138 year old. He's buried on the old Ben Powell
place close to Jasper. My grand-daddy, that's John, he lives to be 103
year old and he buried on the Eddy plantation at Jasper. My daddy, Mose
Rimes, he die young at 86 and he buried in Jasper County, too. My
mammy's name was Phoebe and she was birthed a Rimes nigger and brung to
Texas from back in Louisiana. The year slaves was freed I was inherit by
a man named Sells, what marry into the Rimes family and that's why my
name's Sells, 'cause it change 'long with the marriage. Us was jes'
ready to be ship back to Louisiana to the new massa's plantation when
the end of the war break up the trip.

"You see, we all had purty good time on Massa Rimes's plantation. None
of them carin' 'bout being sot free. They has to work hard all time, but
that don' mean so much, 'cause they have to work iffen they was on they
own, too. The old folks was 'lowed Saturday evenin' off or when they's
sick, and us little ones, us not do much but bring in the wood and
kindle the fires and tote water and he'p wash clothes and feed the
little pigs and chickens.

"Us chillen hang round close to the big house and us have a old man that
went round with us and look after us, white chillen and black chillen,
and that old man was my great grand-daddy. Us sho' have to mind him,
'cause iffen we didn't, us sho' have bad luck. He allus have the pocket
full of things to conjure with. That rabbit foot, he took it out and he
work that on you till you take the creeps and git shakin' all over. Then
there's a pocket full of fish scales and he kind of squeak and rattle
them in the hand and right then you wish you was dead and promise to do
anything. Another thing he allus have in the pocket was a li'l old
dry-up turtle, jes' a mud turtle 'bout the size of a man's thumb, the
whole thing jes' dry up and dead. With that thing he say he could do
mos' anything, but he never use it iffen he ain't have to. A few times I
seed him git all tangle up and boddered and he go off by hisself and sot
down in a quiet place, take out this very turtle and put it in the palm
of the hand and turn it round and round and say somethin' all the time.
After while he git everything ontwisted and he come back with a smile on
he face and maybe whistlin'.

"They fed all us nigger chillen in a big trough made out'n wood, maybe
more a wood tray, dug out'n soft timber like magnolia or cypress. They
put it under a tree in the shade in summer time and give each chile a
wood spoon, then mix all the food up in the trough and us goes to
eatin'. Mos' the food was potlicker, jes' common old potlicker; turnip
green and the juice, Irish 'taters and the juice, cabbages and peas and
beans, jes' anything what make potlicker. All us git round like so many
li'l pigs and then us dish in with our wood spoon till it all gone.

"We has lots of meat at times. Old grand-daddy allus ketchin' rabbit in
some kind of trap, mostly make out'n a holler log. He sot 'em round in
the garden and sho' kotch the rabbits. And possums, us have a good
possum dog, sometimes two or three, and every night you heered them dogs
barkin' in the field down by the branch. Sho' 'nuf, they git possum
treed and us go git him and parbile him and put him in the oven and bake
him plumb tender. Then we stacks sweet 'taters round him and po' the
juice over the whole thing. Now, there is somethin' good 'nuf for a
king.

"There was lots of deer and turkey and squirrel in the wil' wood and
somebody out huntin' nearly every day. Course Massa Rime's folks
couldn't eat up all this meat befo' it spile and the niggers allus git a
great big part of it. Then we kilt lots of hawgs and then talk 'bout
eatin'! O, them chitlin's, sousemeat and the haslets, thats the liver
and the lights all biled up together. Us li'l niggers fill up on sich as
that and go to bed and mos' dream us is li'l pigs.

"Us allus have plenty to eat but didn't pay much 'tention to clothes.
Boys and gals all dress jes' alike, one long shirt or dress. They call
it a shirt iffen a boy wear it and call it a dress iffen the gal wear
it. There wasn't no difference, 'cause they's all made out'n somethin'
like duck and all white. That is, they's white when you fus' put them
on, but after you wears them a while they git kind of pig-cullud, kind
of grey, but still they's all the same color. Us all go barefoot in
summer, li'l ones and big ones, but in winter us have homemake shoes.
They tan the leather at home and make the shoe at home, allus some old
nigger that kin make shoe. They was more like moc'sin, with lace made of
deerskin. The soles was peg on with wood pegs out'n maple and sharpen
down with a shoe knife.

"Us have hats make out'n pine straw, long leaf pine straw, tied together
in li'l bunches and platted round and round till it make a kinder hat.
That pine straw great stuff in them days and us use it in lots of ways.
Us kivered sweet 'taters with it to keep them from git freeze and hogs
made beds out'n it and folks too. Yes, sir, us slep' on it. The beds had
jes' one leg. They bored two hole in the wall up in the corner and stuck
two pole in them holes and lay plank on that like slats and pile lots of
pine straw on that. Then they spread a homemake blanket or quilt on that
and sometime four or five li'l niggers slep' in there to keep us warm.

"The li'l folks slep' mos' as long as they want to in daylight, but the
big niggers have to come out'n that bed 'bout fo' o'clock when the big
horn blow. The overseer have one nigger, he wake up early for to blow
the horn and when he blow this horn he make sich a holler then all the
res' of the niggers better git out'n that bed and 'pear at the barn
'bout daylight. He might not whip him for being late the fus' time, but
that nigger better not forgit the secon' time and be late!

"Massa Rimes didn't whip them much, but iffen they was bad niggers he
jes' sold them offen the place and let somebody else do the whippin'.
Never have no church house or school, but Massa Rimes, he call them in
and read the Bible to them. Then he turn the service over to some good,
old, 'ligious niggers and let them finish with the singin' and prayin'
and 'zorting. After peach [HW: "?"] cleared, a school was 'stablish and
a white man come from the north to teach the cullud chillen, but befo'
that they didn' take no pains to teach the niggers nothin' 'ceptin' to
work, and the white chillen didn't have much school neither.

"That was one plantation what was run 'sclusively by itself. Massa Rimes
have a commissary or sto' house, whar he kep' whatnot things--them what
make on the plantation and things the slaves couldn' make for themselfs.
That wasn't much, 'cause we make us own clothes and shoes and plow and
all farm tools and us even make our own plow line out'n cotton and iffen
us run short of cotton sometime make them out'n bear grass and we make
buttons for us clothes out'n li'l round pieces of gourds and kiver them
with cloth.


[Illustration: _Abram Sells_]


"That wasn't sich a big plantation, 'bout a t'ousand acre and only 'bout
forty niggers. There was'n no jail and they didn't need none. Us have no
real doctor, but of course there was a doctor man at Jasper and one at
Newton, but a nigger have to be purty sick 'fore they call a doctor.
There's allus some old time nigger what knowed lots of remedies and
knowed all dif'rent kinds of yarbs and roots. My grand-daddy, he could
stop blood, and he could conjure off the fever and rub his fingers over
warts and they'd git away. He make ile out'n rattlesnake for the
rheumatis'. For the cramp he git a kind of bark offen a tree and it done
the job, too. Some niggers wo' brass rings to keep off the rheumatis'
and punch hole in a penny or dime and wear that on the ankle to keep off
sickness.

"'Member the war? Course I does. I 'member how some of them march off in
their uniforms, lookin' so grand, and how some of them hide out in the
wood to keep from lookin' so grand. They was lots of talkin' 'bout
fighting, and rubbing and scrubbing the old shotgun. The oldes' niggers
was settin' round the fire late in the night, stirrin' the ashes with
the poker and rakin' out the roas' 'taters. They's smokin' the old corn
cob pipe and homemake tobacco and whisperin' right low and quiet like
what they's gwineter do and whar they's gwineter to when Mister Lincoln,
he turn them free.

"The more they talk, the more I git scared that the niggers is going to
git sot free and wondering what I's gwine to do if they is. No, I guess
I don't want to live back in them times no mo', but I sho' seed lots of
niggers not doin' so well as they did when they was slaves and not
havin' nigh as much to eat."




George Selman


*George Selman was born in 1852, five miles east of Alto, Texas. His
father was born in Virginia and his mother in South Carolina, and were
brought to Texas by Mr. Dan Lewis. Green has been a Baptist minister
since his youth. He lives in Jacksonville, Texas.*

"We was a big fam'ly, nine children. I was born a slave of the Selmans,
Marster Tom and Missus Polly, and they lived in Mississippi. Mother's
name was Martha and my father's name was John Green Selman.

"Marster's folks come from Mississippi a long ways back and they had a
big house made from hewed logs with a big hallway down the middle. The
kitchen was out in the yard, 'bout forty steps from the house. The yard
had five acres in it and a big garden was in it. Marster had five slave
families and our cabins was built in a half circle in the back yard. I
seemed to be the pet and always went with Marster Tom to town or
wherever he was goin'. Then I learned to plow by my mother letting me
hold the handles and walk along with her. Finally she let me go 'round
by myself.

"Marster Tom was always good to us and he taught me religion. He was the
best man I ever knew. Then Saturday noon come, they blew the horn and we
quit workin'. We went to church one Sunday a month and we sat on one
side and the white folks on the other.


[Illustration: _George Selman_]


"I never learnt to read and write, but I learned to work in the house
and the fields. Late in the day Aunt Dicey, who was the cook, called all
us children out under the big trees and give us supper. This was in
summer, but nobody ever fed us but Aunt Dicey. We all ate from one bowl,
or maybe I'd call it a tray 'cause it was made of wood, like a bread
tray but bigger, big enough to hold three, four gallons. She put the
food in the tray and give each chil' a spoon. Mostly we had pot likker
and corn-bread. In winter we ate from the same tray, but in the kitchen.

"I never seen runaway slaves, but Marster Tom had a neighbor mean to
slaves and sometimes when they was whipped we could hear 'em holler. The
neighbor had one slave called Sallie, and she was a weaver and was so
mean she had to wear a chain. After she died, I heered her ghost one
night. I was stayin' with a white man who had the
malaria-typhoid-pneumonia fever, and one night I heered Sallie scream
and seen her chain drag back and forth. I tol' the man I knowed it was
Sallie, 'cause I'd heered that scream for years. But the man said she
was dead, so it mus' have been her ghost. I heered her night after
night, screamin' and draggin' her chain up and down.

"When Marster Tom says we's free, I goes to his sister, Miss Ca'line and
works for her. After sev'ral years I larned to preach and I's the author
of most the Baptist churches in this county."




Callie Shepherd


*Callie Shepherd, age 84, lives at 4701 Spring Ave., Dallas, Texas. She
was born near Gilmer, Texas, in 1852, a slave of the Stevens family. At
present she is cared for by her 68 year old son and his wife.*

"Course I kin tell you. I got 'memberance like dey don't have nowadays.
Dat 'cause things is goin' round and round too fast without no settin'
and talkin' things over.

"I's native born right down here at Gilmer on de old place and Miss
Fannie could tell you de same if she could be in your presence, but she
went on to Glory many a year ago. She de one what raised me, right in de
house with her own chillen. I slep' right in de house, in de chillens'
room, in a little trundle bed what jus' pushed back under de big bed
when de mornin' come. If her chillen et one side de table I et t'other
side, right by Miss Fannie's elbow.

"Miss Fannie, she Dr. Steven's wife and dey from Georgia and lived near
Gilmer till de doctor goes off to de war and takes a sickness what he
ain't never get peart from and died. Died right there on de old place.
He was a right livin' man and dey allus good to me and my mammy, what
dey done brought from Georgia and she de main cook.

"My mammy don't think they ain't nobody like Miss Fannie. My mammy, she
a little red-Indian nigger woman not so big as me, and Miss Fanny tell
her, 'Don't you cry 'cause dey tryin' make freedom, 'cause de doctor
done say we is gwine help you raise your babies.'

"Some de niggers don't like de treatment what dey white folks gives 'em
and dey run away to de woods. I'd hear de nigger dogs a-runnin' and when
dey cotch de niggers dey bites 'em all over and tears dey clothes and
gits de skin, too. And de niggers, dey'd holler. I seed 'em whip de
niggers, 'cause dey tolt de chillen to look. Dey buckled 'em down on de
groun' and laid it on dey backs. Sometimes dey laid on with a mighty
heavy hand. But I ain't never git no whippin' 'cause I never went with
de cullud gen'ration. I set right in de buggy with de white chillen and
went to hear Gospel preachin'.


[Illustration: _Callie Shepherd_]


"I danced at de balls in de sixteen figure round sets and everybody in
dem parts say I de principal dancer, but I gits 'ligion and left de old
way to live in de 'termination to live beyon' dis vale of tears.

"I have my trib'lations after my old daddy die, 'cause he good to us
little chillen. But my next daddy a man mighty rough on us. Dat after
Miss Fannie done gone back to Georgia and my back done hurt me all de
time from pullin' fodder and choppin' cotton. It make a big indif'rence
after Miss Fannie gone, and de war de cause of it all. I heered de big
cannons goin' on over there jus' like de bigges' clap of thunder.

"Me and de little chillen playin' in de road makin' frog houses out of
sand when we hear de hosses comin'. We looks and see de budallions
shinin' in de sun and de sojers have tin cups tied on side dere saddles
and throwed dem cups to us chillen as dey passed. Dey say war is over
and we is free. Miss Fannie say she a Seay from Georgia and she go back
dere, but I jus' stay on where I's native born."




Betty Simmons


*Betty Simmons, 100 or more, was born a slave to Leftwidge Carter, in
Macedonia, Alabama. She was stolen when a child, sold to slave traders
and later to a man in Texas. She now lives in Beaumont, Texas.*

"I think I's 'bout a hunnerd and one or two year old. My papa was a free
man, 'cause his old massa sot him free 'fore I's born, and give him a
hoss and saddle and a little house to live in.

"My old massa when I's a chile, he name Mr. Leftwidge Carter and when he
daughter marry Mr. Wash Langford, massa give me to her. She was call
Clementine. Massa Langford has a little store and a man call Mobley go
in business with him. Dis man brung down he two brothers and dey fair
clean Massa Langford out. He was ruint.

"But while all dis goin' on I didn't know it and I was happy. Dey was
good to me and I don't work too hard, jus' gits in de mischief. One time
I sho' got drunk and dis de way of it. Massa have de puncheon of whiskey
and he sell de whiskey, too. Now, in dem days, dey have frills 'round de
beds, dey wasn't naked beds like nowdays. Dey puts dis puncheon under de
beds and de frills hides it, but I's nussin' a little boy in dat room
and I crawls under dat bed and drinks out of de puncheon. Den I poke de
head out and say 'Boo' at de little boy, and he laugh and laugh. Den I
ducks back and drinks a little more and I say 'Boo' at him 'gain, and he
laugh and laugh. Dey was lots of whiskey in dat puncheon and I keeps
drinkin' and sayin' 'Boo'. My head, it gits funny and I come out with de
puncheon and starts to de kitchen, where my aunt Adeline was de cook. I
jes' a-stompin' and sayin' de big words. Dey never lets me 'round where
dat puncheon is no more.

"When Massa Langford was ruint and dey goin' take de store 'way from
him, dey was trouble, plenty of dat. One day massa send me down to he
brudder's place. I was dere two days and den de missy tell me to go to
de fence. Dere was two white men in a buggy and one of 'em say, 'I
thought she bigger dan dat.' Den he asks me, 'Betty, kin you cook?' I
tells him I been cook helper two, three month, and he say, 'You git
dressed and came on down three mile to de other side de post office.' So
I gits my little bundle and whan I gits dere he say, 'Gal, you want to
go 'bout 26 mile and help cook at de boardin' house?' He tries to make
me believe I won't be gone a long time, but when I gits in de buggy dey
tells me Massa Langford done los' everything and he have to hide out he
niggers for to keep he credickers from gittin' dem. Some of de niggers
he hides in de woods, but he stole me from my sweet missy and sell me so
dem credickers can't git me.

"When we gits to de crossroads dere de massa and a nigger man. Dat
another slave he gwine to sell, and he hate to sell us so bad he can't
look us in de eye. Dey puts us niggers inside de buggy, so iffen de
credickers comes along dey can't see us.

"Finally dese slave spec'laters puts de nigger man and me on de train
and takes us to Memphis, and when we gits dere day takes us to de nigger
traders' yard. We gits dere at breakfast time and waits for de boat dey
calls de 'Ohio' to git dere. De boat jus' ahead of dis Ohio, Old Capt.
Fabra's boat, was 'stroyed and dat delay our boat two hours. When it
come, dey was 258 niggers out of dem nigger yards in Memphis what gits
on dat boat. Dey puts de niggers upstairs and goes down de river far as
Vicksburg, dat was de place, and den us gits offen de boat and gits on
de train 'gain and dat time we goes to New Orleans.

"I's satisfy den I los' my people and ain't never goin' to see dem no
more in dis world, and I never did. Dey has three big trader yard in New
Orleans and I hear de traders say dat town 25 mile square. I ain't like
it so well, 'cause I ain't like it 'bout dat big river. We hears some of
'em say dere's gwineter throw a long war and us all think what dey buy
us for if we's gwine to be sot free. Some was still buyin' niggers every
fall and us think it too funny dey kep' on fillin' up when dey gwineter
be emptyin' out soon.

"Dey have big sandbars and planks fix 'round de nigger yards and dey
have watchmans to keep dem from runnin 'way in de swamp. Some of de
niggers dey have jus' picked up on de road, dey steals dem. Dey calls
dem 'wagon boy' and 'wagon gal.' Dey has one bit mulatto boy dey stole
'long de road dat way and he massa find out 'bout him and come and git
him and take him 'way. And a woman what was a seamster, a man what
knowed her seed her in de pen and he done told her massa and he come
right down and git her. She sho' was proud to git out. She was stole
from 'long de road, too. You sees, if dey could steal de niggers and
sell 'em for de good money, dem traders could make plenty money dat way.

"At las' Col. Fortescue, he buy me and kep' me. He a fighter in de
Mexican war and he come to New Orleans to buy he slaves. He takes me up
de Red River to Shreveport and den by de buggy to Liberty, in Texas.

"De Colonel, he a good massa to us. He 'lows us to work de patch of
ground for ourselves, and maybe have a pig or a couple chickens for
ourselves, and he allus make out to give us plenty to eat.

"De massa, when a place fill up, he allus pick and move to a place where
dere ain't so much people. Dat how come de Colonel fus' left Alabama and
come to Texas, and to de place dey calls Beef Head den, but calls Gran'
Cane now.

"When us come to Gran' Cane a nigger boy git stuck on one us house girls
and he run away from he massa and foller us. It were a woodly country
and de boy outrun he chasers. I heered de dogs after him and he torn and
bleedin' with de bresh and he run upstair in de gin house. De dogs sot
down by de door and de dog-man, what hired to chase him, he drug him
down and throw him in de Horse Hole and tells de two dogs to swim in and
git him. De boy so scairt he yell and holler but de dogs nip and pinch
him good with de claws and teeth. When dey lets de boy out de water hole
he all bit up and when he massa larn how mean de dog-man been to de boy
he 'fuses to pay de fee.

"I gits married in slavery time, to George Fortescue. De massa he marry
us sort of like de justice of de peace. But my husban', he git kilt in
Liberty, when he cuttin' down a tree and it fall on him. I ain't never
marry no more.

"I sho' was glad when freedom come, 'cause dey jus' ready to put my
little three year old boy in de field. Dey took 'em young. I has another
baby call Mittie, and she too young to work. I don't know how many
chillen I's have, and sometimes I sits and tries to count 'em. Dey's
seven livin' but I had 'bout fourteen.


[Illustration: _Betty Simmons_]


"Dey was pretty hard on de niggers. Iffen us have de baby us only 'lowed
to stay in de house for one month and card and spin, and den us has to
get out in de field. Dey allus blow de horn for us mammies to come up
and nuss de babies.

"I seed plenty soldiers 'fore freedom. Dey's de Democrats, 'cause I
never seed no Yankees. Us niggers used to wash and iron for dem. At
night us seed dose soldiers peepin' 'round de house and us run 'way in
de bresh.

"When freedom come us was layin' by de crop and de massa he give us a
gen'rous part of dat crop and us move to Clarks place. We gits on all
right after freedom, but it hard at first 'cause us didn't know how to
do for ourselves. But we has to larn."




George Simmons


*George Simmons, born in Alabama in 1854, was owned by Mr. Steve Jaynes,
who lived near Beaumont, Texas. George has a good many memories of
slavery years, although he was still a child when he was freed. He now
lives in Beaumont, Tex.*

"I's bo'n durin' slavery, somewhar in Alabama, but I don' 'member whar
my mammy said. Dey brung me here endurin' de War and I belonged to Massa
Steve Jaynes, and he had 'bout 75 other niggers. It was a big place and
lots of wo'k, but I's too little to do much 'cept errands 'round de
house.

"Massa Jaynes, he raised cotton and co'n and he have 'bout 400 acres. He
'spected de niggers to wo'k hard from mornin' till sundown, but he was
fair in treatin' 'em. He give us plenty to eat and lots of cornbread and
black-eye' peas and plenty hawg meat and sich. We had possum sometimes,
too. Jus' took a nice, fat possum we done cotched in de woods and
skinned 'im and put 'im in a oven and roas' 'im with sweet 'tatoes all
'round and make plenty gravy. Dat was good.

"Massa Jaynes, he 'lowed de slaves who wanted to have a little place to
make garden, veg'tables and dose kin' of things. He give 'em seed and de
nigger could have all he raised in his little garden. We was all well
kep' and I don' see whar freedom was much mo' better, in a way. Course,
some massas was bad to dere slaves and whipped 'em so ha'd dey's nearly
dead. I know dat, 'cause I heered it from de neighbors places. Some of
dere slaves would run away and hide in de woods and mos' of 'em was
kotched with dogs. Fin'ly dey took to puttin' bells on de slaves so
iffen dey run away, dey could hear 'em in de woods. Dey put 'em on with
a chain, so dey couldn' get 'em off.

"We could have church on Sunday and our own cullud church. Sam Watson,
he was de nigger preacher and he's a slave, too.


[Illustration: _George Simmons_]


"I didn' know much 'bout de war, 'cause we couldn' read and de white
folks didn' talk war much 'fore us. But we heered things and I 'member
de sojers on dere way back after it's all over. Dey wasn' dressed in a
uniform and dey clothes was mos'ly rags, dey was dat tore up. We seed
'em walkin' on de road and sometimes dey had ole wagons, but mos' times
dey walk. I 'member some Yankee sojers, too. Dey have canteens over de
shoulder, and mos' of 'em has blue uniforms on.

"Massa, he tell us when freedom come, and some of us stays 'round
awhile, 'cause whar is we'uns goin'? We didn' know what to do and we
didn' know how to keep ourselves, and what was we to do to get food and
a place to live? Dose was ha'd times, 'cause de country tore up and de
business bad.

"And de Kluxes dey range 'round some. Dey soon plays out but dey took
mos' de time to scare de niggers. One time dey comes to my daddy's house
and de leader, him in de long robe, he say, 'Nigger, quick you and git
me a drink of water.' My daddy, he brung de white folks drinkin' gourd
and dat Klux, he say, 'Nigger, I say git me a big drink--bring me dat
bucket. I's thirsty.' He drinks three buckets of water, we thinks he
does, but what you think we learns? He has a rubber bag under his robe
and is puttin' dat water in dere!"




Ben Simpson


*Ben Simpson, 90, was born in Norcross, Georgia, a slave of the
Stielszen family. He had a cruel master, and was afraid to tell the
truth about his life as a slave, until assured that no harm would come
to him. Ben now lives in Madisonville, Texas, and receives a small old
age pension.*

"Boss, I's born in Georgia, in Norcross, and I's ninety years old. My
father's name was Roger Stielszen and my mother's name was Betty. Massa
Earl Stielszen captures them in Africa and brung them to Georgia. He got
kilt and my sister and me went to his son. His son was a killer. He got
in trouble there in Georgia and got him two good-stepping hosses and the
covered wagon. Then he chains all he slaves round the necks and fastens
the chains to the hosses and makes then walk all the way to Texas. My
mother and my sister had to walk. Emma was my sister. Somewhere on the
road it went to snowin' and massa wouldn't let us wrap anything round
our feet. We had to sleep on the ground, too, in all that snow.

"Massa have a great, long whip platted out of rawhide and when one the
niggers fall behind or give out, he hit him with that whip. It take the
hide every time he hit a nigger. Mother, she give out on the way, 'bout
the line of Texas. Her feet got raw and bleedin' and her legs swoll
plumb out of shape. Then massa, he jus' take out he gun and shot her,
and whilst she lay dyin' he kicks her two, three times and say, 'Damn a
nigger what can't stand nothin'.' Boss, you know that man, he wouldn't
bury mother, jus' leave her layin' where he shot her at. You know, then
there wasn't no law 'gainst killin' nigger slaves.

"He come plumb to Austin through that snow. He taken up farmin' and
changes he name to Alex Simpson, and changes our names, too. He cut logs
and builded he home on the side of them mountains. We never had no
quarters. When night-time come he locks the chain round our necks and
then locks it round a tree. Boss, our bed were the ground. All he feed
us was raw meat and green corn. Boss, I et many a green weed. I was
hongry. He never let us eat at noon, he worked us all day without
stoppin'. We went naked, that the way he worked us. We never had any
clothes.

"He brands us. He brand my mother befo' us left Georgia. Boss, that
nearly kilt her. He brand her in the breast, then between the shoulders.
He brand all us.

"My sister, Emma, was the only woman he have till he marries. Emma was
wife of all seven Negro slaves. He sold her when she's 'bout fifteen,
jus' befo' her baby was born. I never seen her since.

"Boss, massa was a outlaw. He come to Texas and deal in stolen hosses.
Jus' befo' he's hung for stealin' hosses, he marries a young Spanish
gal. He sho' mean to her. Whips her 'cause she want him to leave he
slaves alone and live right. Bless her heart, she's the best gal in the
world. She was the best thing God ever put life in the world. She cry
and cry every time massa go off. She let us a-loose and she feed us good
one time while he's gone. Missy Selena, she turn us a-loose and we wash
in the creek clost by. She jus' fasten the chain on us and give us great
big pot cooked meat and corn, and up he rides. Never says a word but
come to see what us eatin'. He pick up he whip and whip her till she
falls. If I could have got a-loose I'd kilt him. I swore if I ever got
a-loose I'd kill him. But befo' long after that he fails to come home,
and some people finds him hangin' to a tree. Boss, that long after war
time he got hung. He didn't let us free. We wore chains all the time.
When we work, we drug them chains with us. At night he lock us to a tree
to keep us from runnin' off. He didn't have to do that. We were 'fraid
to run. We knew he'd kill us. Besides, he brands us and they no way to
get it off. It's put there with a hot iron. You can't git it off.

"If a slave die, massa made the rest of us tie a rope round he feet and
drug him off. Never buried one, it was too much trouble.

"Massa allus say he be rich after the war. He stealin' all the time. He
have a whole mountain side where he keep he stock. Missy Selena tell us
one day we sposed to be free, but he didn't turn us a-loose. It was
'bout three years after the war they hung him. Missy turned us a-loose.

"I had a hard time then. All I had to eat was what I could find and
steal. I was 'fraid of everybody. I jus' went wild and to the woods,
but, thank God, a bunch of men taken they dogs and run me down. They
carry me to they place. Gen. Houston had some niggers and he made them
feed me. He made them keep me till I git well and able to work. Then he
give me a job. I marry one the gals befo' I leaves them. I'm plumb out
of place there at my own weddin'. Yes, suh, boss, it wasn't one year
befo' that I'm the wild nigger. We had thirteen chillen.

"I farms all my life after that. I didn't know nothin' else to do. I
made plenty cotton, but now I'm too old. Me and my wife is alone now.
This old nigger gits the li'l pension from the gov'ment. I not got much
longer to stay here. I's ready to see God but I hope my old massa ain't
there to torment me again."




Giles Smith


*Giles Smith, 79, now residing at 3107 Blanchard St., Fort Worth, Texas,
was born a slave of Major Hardway, on a plantation near Union Springs,
Alabama. The Major gave Giles to his daughter when he was an infant and
he never saw his parents again. In 1874 Frank Talbot brought Giles to
Texas, and he worked on the farm two years. He then went to Brownwood
and worked in a gin seventeen years. In 1908 he moved to Fort Worth and
worked for a packing company. Old age led to his discharge in 1931 and
he has since worked at any odd jobs he could find.*

"My name am Giles Smith, 'cause my pappy was born on the Smith
plantation and I took his name. I's born at Union Springs, in Alabama
and Major Hardway owned me and 'bout a hundred other slaves. But he gave
me to Mary, his daughter, when I's only a few months old and had to be
fed on a bottle, 'cause she am jus' married to Massa Miles. She told me
how she carried me home in her arms. She say I was so li'l she have a
hard time to make me eat out the bottle, and I put up a good fight so
she nearly took me back.

"I don't 'member the start of the war, but de endin' I does. Massa Miles
called all us together and told us we's free and it give us all de
jitters. He treated all us fine and nobody wanted to go. He and Missy am
de best folks de Lawd could make. I stayed till I was sixteen years old.

"It am years after freedom Missy Mary say to me what massa allus say,
'If the nigger won't follow orders by kind treatin', sich nigger am
wrong in the head and not worth keepin'. He didn't have to rush us. We'd
just dig in and do the work. One time Massa clearin' some land and it am
gittin' late for breakin' the ground. Us allus have Saturday afternoon
and Sunday off. Old Jerry says to us, 'Tell yous what us do,--go to the
clearin' this afternoon and Sunday and finish for the Massa. That sho'
make him glad.'

"Saturday noon came and nobody tells the massa but go to that clearin'
and sing while us work, cuttin' bresh and grubbin' stomps and burnin'
bresh. Us sing

    "'Hi, ho, ug, hi, ho, ug.
    De sharp bit, de strong arm,
    Hi, ho, ug, hi, ho, ug,
    Dis tree am done 'fore us warm.'

"De massa come out and his mouth am slippin' all over he face and he
say, 'What this all mean? Why you workin' Saturday afternoon?'

"Old Jerry am a funny cuss and he say, 'Massa, O, massa, please don't
whop us for cuttin' down yous trees.'

"I's gwine whop you with the chicken stew,' Massa say. And for Sunday
dinner dere am chicken stew with noodles and peach cobbler.

"So I stays with massa and after I's fifteen he pays me $2.00 the month,
and course I gits my eats and my clothes, too. When I gits the first two
I don't know what to do, 'cause it the first money I ever had. Missy
make the propulation to keep the money and buy for me and teach me 'bout
it. There ain't much to buy, 'cause we make nearly everything right
there. Even the tobaccy am made. They put honey 'twixt the leaves and
put a pile of it 'twixt two boards with weights. It am left for a month
and that am a man's tobaccy. A weaklin' better stay off that kind
tobaccy.

"First I works in the field and then am massa's coachman. But when I's
'bout sixteen I gits a idea to go off somewheres for myself. I hears
'bout Mr. Frank Talbot, whom am takin' some niggers to Texas and I goes
with him to the Brazos River bottom, and works there two years. I's
lonesome for massa and missy and if I'd been clost enough, I'd sho' gone
back to the old plantation. So after two years I quits and goes to work
for Mr. Winfield Scott down in Brownwood, in the gin, for seventeen
years.

"Well, shortly after I gits to Brownwood I meets a yaller gal and after
dat I don't care to go back to Alabama so hard. I's married to Dee Smith
on December the eighteenth, in 1880, and us live together many years.
She died six years ago. Us have six chillen but I don't know where one
of them are now. They all forgit their father in his old age! They not
so young, either.


[Illustration: _Giles Smith_]


"My woman could write a little so she write missy for me, and she write
back and wish us luck and if we ever wants to come back to the old home
we is welcome. Us write back' forth with her. Finally, us git the letter
what say she sick, and then awful low. That 'bout twenty-five years
after I marries. That am too much for me, and I catches the next train
back to Alabama but I gits there too late. She am dead, and I never has
forgive myself, 'cause I don't go back befo' she die, like she ask us
to, lots of times.

"I comes here fifteen years ago and here I be. The last six year I can't
work in the packin' plants no more. I's too old. Anything I can find to
do I does, but it ain't much no more.

"The worst grief I's had, am to think I didn't go see missy 'fore she
die. I's never forgave myself for that."




James W. Smith


*James W. Smith, 77, was born a slave of the Hallman family, in
Palestine, Texas. James became a Baptist minister in 1895, and preached
until 1931, when poor health forced him to retire. He and his wife live
at 1306 E. Fourth St., Fort Worth, Texas.*

"Yes, suh, I'm birthed a slave, but never worked as sich, 'cause I's too
young. But I 'members hearin' my mother tell all about her slave days
and our master. He was John Hallman and owned a place in Palestine, with
my mother and father and fifty other slaves. My folks was house servants
and lived a little better'n the field hands. De cabins was built cheap,
though, no money, only time for buildin' am de cost. Dey didn't use
nails and helt de logs in place by dovetailin'. Dey closed de space
between de logs with wedges covered with mud and straw. De framework for
de door was helt by wooden pegs and so am de benches and tables. Master
Hallman always had some niggers trained for carpenter work, and one to
be blacksmith and one to make shoes and harness.

"We was lucky to have de kind master, what give us plenty to eat. If all
de people now could have jus' so good food what we had, there wouldn't
be no beggin' by hungry folks or need for milk funds for starved babies.

"We didn't have purty clothes sich as now, with all de dif'rent colors
mixed up, but dey was warm and lastin', dyed brown and black. De black
oak and cherry made de dyes. Our shoes wasn't purty, either. I has to
laugh when I think of de shoes. There wasn't no careful work put on dem,
but dey covered de feets and lasted near forever.

"Master always wanted to help his cullud folks live right and my folks
always said de best time of they lives was on de old plantation. He
always 'ranged for parties and sich. Yes, suh, he wanted dem to have a
good time, but no foolishment, jus' good, clean fun. There am dancin'
and singin' mostest every Saturday night. He had a little platform built
for de jiggin' contests. Cullud folks comes from all round, to see who
could jig de best. Sometimes two niggers each put a cup of water on de
head and see who could jig de hardest without spillin' any. It was lots
of fun.

"I must tell you 'bout de best contest we ever had. One nigger on our
place was de jigginest fellow ever was. Everyone round tries to git
somebody to best him. He could put de glass of water on his head and
make his feet go like triphammers and sound like de snaredrum. He could
whirl round and sich, all de movement from his hips down. Now it gits
noised round a fellow been found to beat Tom and a contest am 'ranged
for Saturday evenin'. There was a big crowd and money am bet, but master
bets on Tom, of course.

"So dey starts jiggin'. Tom starts easy and a little faster and faster.
The other fellow doin' de same. Dey gits faster and faster and dat crowd
am a-yellin'. Gosh! There am 'citement. Dey jus' keep a-gwine. It look
like Tom done found his match, but there am one thing yet he ain't
done--he ain't made de whirl. Now he does it. Everyone holds he breath,
and de other fellow starts to make de whirl and he makes it, but jus' a
spoonful of water sloughs out his cup, so Tom am de winner.

"When freedom come, the master tells his slaves and says, 'What you
gwine do?' Wall, suh, not one of dem knows dat. De fact am, dey's scared
dey gwine be put off de place. But master says dey can stay and work for
money or share crop. He says they might be trouble 'twixt de whites and
niggers and likely it be best to stay and not git mixed in dis and dat
org'ization. Mostest stays, only one or two goes away. My folks stays
for five years after de war. Den my father moves to Bertha Creek, where
he done 'range for a farm of his own. They hated to leave master's
plantation, he's so good and kind.

"Some the cullud folks thinks they's to take charge and run the
gov'ment. They asks my father to jine their org'ization. He goes once
and some eggs am served. Dey am served by de crowd and dem eggs ain't
fresh yard eggs. Father 'cides he wants his eggs served dif'rent, and he
likes dem fresh, so he takes master's advice and don't jine nothing.

"When de Klux come, de cullud org'ization made their scatterment. Plenty
gits whipped round our place and some what wasn't 'titled to it. Den
soldiers comes and puts order in de section. Dey has trouble about
votin'. De cullud folks in dem days was non-knowledge, so how could dey
vote 'telligent? Dat am foolishment to 'sist on de right to vote. It de
non-knowledge what hurts. Myself, I never voted and am too far down de
road now to start.


[Illustration: _James W. Smith_]


"I worked at farmin' till 1895 when I starts preachin' in de Baptist
church. I kept that up till 1931, but my health got too bad and I had to
quit. I has de pressure bad. When I preaches, I preaches hard, and de
doctor says dat am danger for me.

"The way I learns to preach am dis: after surrender, I 'tends de school
two terms and den I studies de Bible and I's a nat'ral talker and gifted
for de Lawd's work, so I starts preachin'.

"Jennie Goodman and me marries in 1885 and de Lawd never blessed us with
any chillen. We gits de pension, me $16.00 and her $14.00, and gits by
on dat. It am for de rations and de eats, but de clothes am a question!"




Jordon Smith


*Jordon Smith, 86, was born in Georgia, a slave of the Widow Hicks. When
she died, Jordon, his mother and thirty other slaves were willed to Ab
Smith, his owner's nephew, and were later refugeed from Georgia to
Anderson Co., Texas. When freed, Jordon worked on a steamboat crew on
the Red River until the advent of railroads. For thirty years Jordon
worked for the railroad. He is now too feeble to work and lives with his
third wife and six children in Marshall, Texas, supported by the latter
and his pension of $10.00 a month.*

"I's borned in Georgia, next to the line of North Car'lina, on Widow
Hick's place. My papa died 'fore I's borned but my mammy was called
Aggie. My ole missus died and us fell to her nephew, Ab Smith. My granma
and granpa was full-blooded Africans and I couldn't unnerstand their
talk.

"My missus was borned on the Chattahoochee River and she had 2,000 acres
of land in cul'vation, a thousand on each side the river, and owned 500
slaves and 250 head of work mules. She was the richest woman in the
whole county.

"Us slaves lived in a double row log cabins facin' her house and our
beds was made of rough plank and mattresses of hay and lynn bark and
shucks, make on a machine. I's spinned many a piece of cloth and wove
many a brooch of thread.

"Missus didn't 'low her niggers to work till they's 21, and the chillen
played marbles and run round and kick their heels. The first work I done
was hoeing and us worked long as we could see a stalk of cotton or hill
of corn. Missus used to call us at Christmas and give the old folks a
dollar and the rest a dinner. When she died me and my mother went to Ab
Smith at the dividement of the property. Master Ab put us to work on a
big farm he bought and it was Hell 'mong the yearlin's if you crost him
or missus either. It was double trouble and a cowhidin' whatever you do.
She had a place in the kitchen where she tied their hands up to the wall
and cowhided them and sometimes cut they back 'most to pieces. She made
all go to church and let the women wear some her old, fine dresses to
hide the stripes where she'd beat them. Mammy say that to keep the folks
at church from knowin' how mean she was to her niggers.

"Master Ab had a driver and if you didn't do what that driver say,
master say to him, 'Boy, come here and take this nigger down, a hunerd
licks this time.' Sometimes us run off and go to a dance without a pass
and 'bout time they's kickin' they heels and getting sot for the big
time, in come a patterroller and say, 'Havin' a big time, ain't you? Got
a pass?' If you didn't, they'd git four or five men to take you out and
when they got through you'd sho' go home.

"Master Ab had hunerds acres wheat and made the women stack hay in the
field. Sometimes they got sick and wanted to go to the house, but he
made them lay down on a straw-pile in the field. Lots of chillen was
borned on a straw-pile in the field. After the chile was borned he sent
them to the house. I seed that with my own eyes.

"They was a trader yard in Virginia and one in New Orleans and sometimes
a thousand slaves was waitin' to be sold. When the traders knowed men
was comin' to buy, they made the slaves all clean up and greased they
mouths with meat skins to look like they's feedin' them plenty meat.
They lined the women up on one side and the men on the other. A buyer
would walk up and down 'tween the two rows and grab a woman and try to
throw her down and feel of her to see how she's put up. If she's purty
strong, he'd say, 'Is she a good breeder?' If a gal was 18 or 19 and put
up good she was worth 'bout $1,500. Then the buyer'd pick out a strong,
young nigger boy 'bout the same age and buy him. When he got them home
he'd say to them, 'I want you two to stay together. I want young
niggers.'

"If a nigger ever run off the place and come back, master'd say, 'If
you'll be a good nigger, I'll not whip you this time.' But you couldn't
'lieve that. A nigger run off and stayed in the woods six month. When he
come back he's hairy as a cow, 'cause he lived in a cave and come out at
night and pilfer round. They put the dogs on him but couldn't cotch him.
Fin'ly he come home and master say he won't whip him and Tom was crazy
'nough to 'lieve it. Master say to the cook, 'Fix Tom a big dinner,' and
while Tom's eatin', master stand in the door with a whip and say, 'Tom,
I's change my mind; you have no business runnin' off and I's gwine take
you out jus' like you come into the world.

"Master gits a bottle whiskey and a box cigars and have Tom tied up out
in the yard. He takes a chair and say to the driver, 'Boy, take him
down, 250 licks this time.' Then he'd count the licks. When they's 150
licks it didn't look like they is any place left to hit, but master say,
'Finish him up.' Then he and the driver sot down, smoke cigars and drink
whiskey, and master tell Tom how he must mind he master. Then he lock
Tom up in a log house and master tell all the niggers if they give him
anything to eat he'll skin 'em alive. The old folks slips Tom bread and
meat. When he gits out, he's gone to the woods 'gain. They's plenty
niggers what stayed in the woods till surrender.

"I heared some slaves say they white folks was good to 'em, but it was a
tight fight where us was. I's thought over the case a thousand times and
figured it was 'cause all men ain't made alike. Some are bad and some
are good. It's like that now. Some folks you works for got no heart and
some treat you white. I guess it allus will be that way.

"They was more ghosts and hants them days than now. It look like when
I's comin' up they was common as pig tracks. They come in different
forms and shapes, sometimes like a dog or cat or goat or like a man. I
didn't 'lieve in 'em till I seed one. A fellow I knowed could see 'em
every time he went out. One time us walkin' 'long a country lane and he
say, 'Jordon, look over my right shoulder.' I looked and see a man
walkin' without a head. I broke and run plumb off from the man I's with.
He wasn't scart of 'em.

"I's refugeed from Georgia to Anderson County 'fore the war. I see Abe
Lincoln onct when he come through, but didn't none of know who he was. I
heared the president wanted 'em to work the young niggers till they was
twenty-one but to free the growed slaves. They say he give 'em thirty
days to 'siderate it. The white folks said they'd wade blood saddle deep
'fore they'd let us loose. I don't blame 'em in a way, 'cause they paid
for us. In 'nother way it was right to free us. We was brought here and
no person is sposed to be made a brute.


[Illustration: _Jordon Smith_]


"After surrender, Massa Ab call us and say we could go. Mammy stayed but
I left with my uncles and aunts and went to Shreveport where the Yanks
was. I didn't hear from my mammy for the nex' twenty years.

"In Ku Klux times they come to our house and I stood tremblin', but they
didn't bother us. I heared 'em say lots of niggers was took down in
Sabine bottom and Kluxed, just 'cause they wanted to git rid of 'em. I
think it was desperados what done that, 'stead of the Ku Klux. That was
did in Panola County, in the Bad Lands. Bill Bateman and Hulon Gresham
and Sidney Farney was desperados and would kill a nigger jus' to git rid
of him. Course, lots of folks was riled up at the Kluxers and blamed 'em
for everything.

"I's voted here in Marshall. Every nation has a flag but the cullud
race. The flag is what protects 'em. We wasn't invited here, but was
brought here, and don't have no place else to go. We was brought under
this government and it's right we be led and told what to do. The cullud
folks has been here more'n a hunerd years and has help make the United
States what it is. The only thing that'll help the cause is separation
of the races. I'll not be here when it comes, but it's bound to, 'cause
the Bible say that some day all the races of people will be separated.
Since 1865 till now the cullud race have done nothing but go to
destruction. There was a time a man could control his wife and family,
but you can't do that now.

"After surrender I went to Shreveport and steamboated from there to New
Orleans, then to Vicksburg. Old hands was paid $15.00 a trip. I come
here in 1872 and railroaded 30 years, on the section gang and in the
shops. Since then I farmed and I's had three wives and nineteen chillen
and they are scattered all over the state. Since I's too old to farm I
work at odd jobs and git a $10.00 a month pension."




Millie Ann Smith


*Millie Ann Smith was born in 1850, in Rusk Co., Texas, a slave of
George Washington Trammell, a pioneer planter of the county. Trammell
bought Millie's mother and three older children in Mississippi before
Millie's birth, and brought them to Texas, leaving Millie's father
behind. Later he ran away to Texas and persuaded Trammell to buy him, so
he could be with his family.*

"I's born 'fore war started and 'members when it ceased. I guess mammy's
folks allus belonged to the Trammells, 'cause I 'member my grandpa, Josh
Chiles, and my grandma, call Jeanette. I's a strappin' big girl when
they dies. Grandpa used to say he come to Texas with Massa George
Trammell's father when Rusk County was jus' a big woods, and the first
two years he was hunter for the massa. He stay in the woods all the
time, killing deer and wild hawgs and turkeys and coons and the like for
the white folks to eat, and the land's full of Indians. He kinda taken
up with them and had holes in the nose and ears. They was put there by
the Indians for rings what they wore. Grandpa could talk mos' any Indian
talk and he say he used to run off from his massa and stay with the
Indians for weeks. The massa'd go to the Indian camp looking for grandpa
and the Indians hided him out and say, 'No see him.'

"How mammy and we'uns come to Texas, Massa George brung his wife and
three chillen from Mississippi and he brung we'uns. Pappy belonged to
Massa Moore over in Mississippi and Massa George didn't buy him, but
after mammy got here, that 'fore I's born, pappy runs off and makes his
way to Texas and gits Massa George to buy him.

"Massa George and Missy America lived in a fine, big house and they
owned more slaves and land than anybody in the county and they's the
richest folks 'round there. Us slaves lived down the hill from the big
house in a double row of log cabins and us had good beds, like our white
folks. My grandpa made all the beds for the white folks and us niggers,
too. Massa didn't want anything shoddy 'round him, he say, not even his
nigger quarters.

"I's sot all day handin' thread to my mammy to put in the loom, 'cause
they give us homespun clothes, and you'd better keep 'em if you didn't
want to go naked.

"Massa had a overseer and nigger driver call Jacob Green. If a nigger
was hard to make do the right thing, they ties him to a tree, but Massa
George never whip 'em too hard, jus' 'nough to make 'em 'have.

"The slaves what worked in the fields was woke up 'fore light with a
horn and worked till dark, and then there was the stock to tend to and
cloth to weave. The overseer come 'round at nine o'clock to see if all
is in the bed and then go back to his own house. When us knowed he's
sound asleep we'd slip out and run 'round, sometimes. They locked the
young men up in a house at night and on Sunday to keep 'em from runnin'
'round. It was a log house and had cracks in it and once a little nigger
boy pokes his hand in tryin' to tease them men and one of 'em chops his
fingers off with the ax.

"Massa didn' 'low no nigger to read and write, if he knowed it. George
Wood was the only one could read and write and how he larn, a little boy
on the 'jining place took up with him and they goes off in the woods and
he shows George how to read and write. Massa never did find out 'bout
that till after freedom.

"We slips off and have prayer but daren't 'low the white folks know it
and sometime we hums 'ligious songs low like when we's workin'. It was
our way of prayin' to be free, but the white folks didn't know it. I
'member mammy used to sing like this:

    "'Am I born to die, to lay this body down.
    Must my tremblin' spirit fly into worlds unknown,
    The land of deepes' shade,
    Only pierce' by human thought.'

"Massa George 'lowed them what wanted to work a little ground for
theyselves and grandpa made money sellin' wild turkey and hawgs to the
poor white folks. He used to go huntin' at night or jus' when he could.


[Illustration: _Millie Ann Smith_]


"Them days we made our own med'cine out of horsemint and butterfly weed
and Jerusalem oak and bottled them teas up for the winter. Butterfly
Weed tea was for the pleurisy and the others for the chills and fever.
As reg'lar as I got up I allus drank my asafoetida and tar water.

"I 'member Massa George furnishes three of his niggers, Ed Chile and
Jacob Green and Job Jester, for mule skinners. I seed the government
come and take off a big bunch of mules off our place. Mos' onto four
year after the war, three men comes to Massa George and makes him call
us up and turn us loose. I heered 'em say its close onto four year we's
been free, but that's the first we knowed 'bout it.

"Pappy goes to work at odd jobs and mammy and I goes to keep house for a
widow woman and I stays there till I marries, and that to Tom Smith. We
had five chillen and now Tom's dead and I lives on that pension from the
government, what is $16.00 a month, and I's glad to git it, 'cause I's
too old to work."




Susan Smith


*Susan Smith is not sure of her age, but appears to be in the late
eighties. She was a slave of Charles Weeks, in Iberia, Louisiana. Susan
was dressed in a black and white print, a light blue apron and a black
velvet hat when interviewed, and seemed to be enjoying the generous quid
of tobacco she took as she started to tell her story.*

"I 'lieve I was nine or ten when freedom come, 'cause I was nursing for
the white folks. Old massa was Charlie Weeks and he lived in Iberia. His
sons, Willie and Ned, dey run business in de court house. One of dem tax
collector and de other lookin' after de land, and am de surveyor. Old
missus named Mag Weeks.

"My pa named Dennis Joe and ma named Sabry Joe, and dey borned and
raised on Weeks Island, in Louisiana. After dey old massa die, dey was
'vided up and falls to Massa Charlie Weeks, and dat where I borned, in
Iberia on Bayou Teche.

"Massa Charlie, he live in de big brick house with white columns and
everybody what pass dere know dat place. Dey have de great big tomb in
corner de yard, where dey buries all dey folks, but buries de cullud
folks back of de quarters. Dey's well fix in Louisiana, but not so good
after dey come to Texas.

"Dey used to have big Christmas in Louisiana and lots of things for us,
and a big table and kill hawgs and have lots to eat. But old Missus Mag,
she allus treat me like her own chillen and make me set at de table with
dem and eat.

"I was with Missus Mag on a visit to Mansfield when de war starts at six
o'clock Sunday and go till six o'clock Monday. I went over dat
battlefield and look at dem sojers dey kill. David McGill, a young
massa, he git kill. He uncle, William Weeks, what done hired him to jine
the army in he place, he goes to the battlefield to look for Massa
David. De only way he knowed it was him, he have two gold eyeteeth with
diamonds in dem. Some dem hurt sojers was prayin' and some cussin'. You
could hear some dem hollerin', 'Oh, Gawd, help me.' Dey was layin' so
thick you have to step over dem.

"I seed de sojers in Iberia. Dey take anythin' dey wants. Dey cotch de
cow and kill it and eat it. Dey have de camp dere and dey jus' carry on.
I used to go to de camp, 'cause dey give me crackers and sardines. But
after dat Mansfield battle dey have up white flags and dey ain't no more
war dere. But while it gwine on, I go to de camp and sometimes dem
sojers give me meat and barbecue. Dey one place dere a lump salt big as
dis house, and dey set fire to de house and left dat big lump salt.
Anywhere dey camp dey burns up de house.

"I didn't know I'm free till a man say to me, 'Sissy, ain't you know you
ain't got no more massa or missus?' I say, 'No, suh.' But I stays with
dem till I git marry, and slep' right in dey house and nuss for dem. Dey
give me de big weddin', too. De noter public in Iberia, he marry us. My
husband name Henry Smith and dat when I'm fifteen year old. I so
big-limb and fat den I bigger den what I is now.

"I ain't had no husband for a time. I can't cast de years, he been dead
so long. Us have fifteen chillen, and seven livin' now.

"Sperrits? I used to see dem. I scart of dem. Sometime dey looks nat'ral
and sometime like de shadow. Iffen dey look like de shadow, jus' keep on
lookin' at dem till dey looks nat'ral. Iffen you walks 'long, dey come
right up side you. Iffen you looks over you left shoulder, you see dem.
Dey makes de air feel warm and you hair rise up, and sometime dey gives
you de cold chills. You can feel it when dey with you. I set here and
seed dem standin' in dat gate. Dey goes round like dey done when dey
a-livin'. Some say dey can't cross water.

"I heared talk of de bad mouth. A old woman put bad mouth on you and
shake her hand at you, and befo' de day done you gwine be in de
acciden'.

"I seed de Klu Klux. Po' Cajuns and redbones, I calls dem. Dey ought to
be sleepin'. One time I seed a man hangin' in de wood when I'n pickin'
blackberries. His tongue hangin' out and de buzzards fly down on he
shoulder. De breeze sot him to swingin' and de buzzards fly off. I tells
de people and dey takes him down to bury. He a fine, young cullud man. I
don't know why dey done it. Dat after peace and de Yankees done gone
back home.

"I been here in Texas a good while, and it such a rough road it got my
'membrance all stir up. I never been to school, 'cause I bound out to
work. I lives with my daughter and dis child here my grandchild. I can't
'member no more, 'cause my head ain't good as it used to be."




John Sneed


*John Sneed, born near Austin, Texas, does not know his age, but was
almost grown when he was freed. He belonged to Dr. Sneed and stayed with
him several years after Emancipation.*

"I's borned on de old Sneed place, eight miles south of Austin, and my
mammy was Sarah Sneed and pappy was Ike. Dey come from Tennessee and
dere five boys and two gals. De boys am Dixie and Joe and Jim and Bob
and me, and de gals name Katy and Lou. Us live in quarters what was log
huts. Dere's one long, log house where dey spinned and weaved de cloth.
Dere sixteen spinnin' wheels and eight looms in dat house and my job was
turnin' one dem wheels when they'd thresh me out and git me to do it.
Mos' all de clothes what de slaves and de white folks have was made in
dat house.

"Mos' and usual de chillen sleept on de floor, unless with de old folks.
De bedsteads make of pieces of split logs fasten with wooden pegs and
rope criss-cross. De mattress make of shucks tear into strips with maybe
a li'l cotton or prairie hay. You could go out on de prairie mos' any
time and get 'nough grass to make de bed, and dry it 'fore it put in de
tick. De white folks have bought beds haul by ox teams from Austin and
feather beds.

"Dr. Sneed raise cotton and corn and wheat. Sometime five or six oxen
hitch to de wagon and 25 or 30 wagons make what am call de wagon train.
Dey haul cotton and corn and wheat to Port Lavaca what am de nearest
shipping point. On de return trip, dey brung sugar and coffee and cloth
and other things what am needed on de plantation. First time massa 'low
me go with dat ox-train, I thunk I's growed.

"Dere a big gang of white and cullud chillen on de plantation but Dr.
Sneed didn't have no chillen of he own. De neighbor white chillen come
over dere and played. Us rip and play and fight and kick up us heels,
and go on. Massa never 'low no whippin' of de chillen. He make dem pick
rocks up and make fences out dem, but he didn't 'low no chillen work in
de field till dey 'bout fourteen. De real old folks didn't work in de
fields neither. Dey sot 'round and knit socks and mend de shoes and
harness and stuff.

"Massa John mighty good to us chillen. He allus give us a li'l piece
money every Sunday. When he'd git in he buggy to go to Austin to sell
butter, de chillen pile in dat buggy and all over him so you couldn't
see him and he'd hardly see to drive.

"Us had possum and rabbit and fish and trap birds for eatin'. Dere all
kind wild green dem days. Us jus' go in de woods and git wild lettuce
and mustard and leather-britches and polk salad and watercress, all us
want to eat. Us kilt hawgs and put up de lard by de barrel. Us thresh
wheat and take it to de li'l watermill at Barton Creek to grind. Dey'd
only grind two bushel to de family, no matter how big dat family, 'cause
dere so many folks and it such a small mill.

"Each family have de li'l garden and raise turnips and cabbage and sweet
'taters and put dem in de kiln make from corn stalks and cure dem for
winter eatin'. Us have homemake clothes and brogan shoes, come from
Austin or some place. Us chillen wear shirt-tail till us 'bout thirteen.

"Massa live in de big two-story rock house and have he office and
drug-store in one end de house. Missy Ann have no chillen so she 'dopt
one from Tennessee, name Sally.

"Dere 'bout four or five hunerd acres and 'bout sixty slaves. Dey git up
'bout daylight and come from de field in time to feed and do de chores
'fore dark. After work de old folks sot 'round, fiddle and play de
'cordian and tell stories. Dat mostly after de crops laid by or on rainy
days. On workin' time, dey usually tired and go to bed early. Dey not
work on Saturday afternoon or Sunday, 'cept dey gatherin' de crop 'gin a
rain. Old man Jim Piper am fiddler and play for black and white dances.
On Sunday massa make us go to church. Us sing and pray in a li'l log
house on de plantation and sometimes de preacher stop and hold meetin'.

"Massa John Sneed doctored from Austin to Lockhart and Gonzales and my
own mammy he train to be midwife. She good pneumonia doctor and massa
'low her care for dem.

"On Christmas all us go to de big house and crowd 'round massa. He a
li'l man and some black boys'd carry him 'round on dere shoulders. All
knowed dey gwine git de present. Dere a big tree with present for
everyone, white and black. Lots of eggnog and turkey and baked hawgs and
all kind good things. Dere allus lots of white folks company at massa's
house and big banquets and holidays and birthdays. Us like dem times,
'cause work slack and food heavy. Every las' chile have he birthday
celebrate with de big cake and present and maybe de quarter in silver
from old massa, bless he soul. Us play kissin' games and ring plays and
one song am like dis:

    "'I'm in de well,
    How many feet?
    Five. Who'd git you out?'

"Iffen it a man, he choose de gal and she have to kiss him to git him
out de well. Iffen a gal in de well, she choose a man.

"I well 'member de day freedom 'clared. Us have de tearin'-down dinner
dat day. De niggers beller and cry and didn't want leave massa. He talk
to us and say long as he live us be cared for, and us was. Dere lots of
springs on he place and de married niggers pick out a spring and Massa
Doctor give dem stuff to put up de cabin by dat spring, and dey take
what dey have in de quarters. Dey want to move from dem slave quarters,
but not too far from massa. Dey come to de big house for flour and meal
and meat and sich till massa die. He willed every last one he slaves
somethin'. Mos' of 'em git a cow and a horse and a pig and some
chickens. My mammy git two cows and a pair horses and a wagon and 70
acres land. She marries 'gain when my daddy die and dat shif'less nigger
she marry git her to sign some kind paper and she lose de land.

"My wife was Nanny Madeira and us have six chillen and five is livin'. I
followed cattle till I's 'bout 26. I's went up de Chisholm Trail eight
or nine times and druv for Massa Blocker and Jedge Brackenridge and
others. On one stampede I rode 24 hours straight and after we rounds up
all de cattle, I goes to sleep under a tree. Dat day I has on a buckskin
coat I in gen'ral wore and I feels somethin' grab dat coat and bite my
side. I rouses up and sees de big panther draggin' me off to de thicket.
I has de six-gun but I couldn't git to it. Every once in a while dat
panther lay me down and sniff at my nose. I jes' hold de breath, 'cause
if dat panther cotch me breathin' dat been de end of me. He drug me to
some bushes and den goes off a li'l way and give de yell. Dat yell make
me turn cold, 'cause it sound jes' like a man screamin'. Den dat cat dug
a shallow hole. I eases out my old gun, takes careful aim and den says,
'Thank you, old man,' and he turns to look at me and I shoots him right
'tween he eyes. After 'while, dat cat's mate and cub come runnin',
'cause he yell for dem, and I kilt dem, too.


[Illustration: _John Sneed_]


"'Nother time, I seed de panther a-draggin' a white man off and I slips
up jes' as de cat seizes him and shoots dat cat. Us have to run dat man
down and cotch him, 'cause he scared stiff when dat dead cat fall on
him.

"Some time after dat I works for a man what freights supplies 'round
Austin and I's one de drivers. Us start in September with sev'ral
six-wheel wagons, 'nough to las' a town de year, and not git back to
Austin till January. Sometimes de mud so bad it take six oxen to pull de
wagon out.

"One time us movin' and stampedin' de bunch cattle and me and my brother
gits los' from de rest and was los' three days and nights. All us eat am
parched corn. De grass nearly waist high to a man and us scoop out de
hole in de ground and cut off tops de grass and weeds and make de fire.
Den us drap de corn on de fire and parch it. De woods full wild animals
and panthers and wolves. De wolves de worst. Dey slip up on us to git de
chicken us has with us. At last us come to a house and finds us folks."




Mariah Snyder


*Mariah Snyder, 89, was born in Mississippi, a slave of Sam Miller, who
brought her to Texas when she was five. Since Mariah's second husband
died, twenty-two years ago, she has earned her living by washing and
cooking. Now too old to do much, she is cared for by her only living
daughter, with the aid of a $10.00 monthly pension.*

"I's borned in Mississippi. Yes, sar. I 'longed to Massa Miller and he
name am Sam, and my name am Mariah. My pappy was Weldon and my mammy,
Ann. Massa Sam fotches all us to Texas when I's jes' five year old and
we come in wagons and hossback. He done buy my mammy and pappy in the
slave market, so I don't know nothin' 'bout none my other 'lations.

"Massa Sam live in a great big, ceiled house, and had plenty land and
niggers. The quarters was logs and any kind beds we could git. We wore
lowell clothes and I never seed no other kind of dress till after
surrender. We et meat and collards and cornbread and rough grub, and
they biled all the victuals in a big, black pot what hung on a rack in
the kitchen fireplace. We had red russet, flat shoes and no stockin's,
but in winter we made wool panties to wear on our legs.

"Missy was name Patsy and she was purty good, and Massa Sam was purty
good, too. He'd whip us if we needed it. He'd pull off our clothes and
whip in the field. But he wouldn't 'low the driver to whip us if we
didn't need it. No, sar. And he wouldn't have no patterrollers on the
place.

"The driver come round and woke everybody up and had 'em in the field by
daybreak. I's seed a whole field of niggers abreast, hoein'. The rows of
cotton was so long you couldn't make but one 'fore dinnertime. I driv
the gin, what was run by two mules. The cotton was wropped in baggin'
and tied with ropes. It was a long time after 'fore I seed cotton tied
with steel like they bales it now.

"I seed plenty niggers whipped while I driv that gin. They tied the
feets and hands and rawhided 'em good. They tied a bell on one woman
what run away all the time. They locks it round her head.

"I seed lots of niggers put on the block and bid off and carry away in
chains. One woman name Venus raises her hands and hollers, 'Weigh dem
cattle,' whilst she's bein' bid off.

"The big folks dances all night Sat'day. That's all the fun we had. We
used to sing

    "I'm in a lady's garden, I'm in a lady's garden,
    So let me out. I'm sufferin' for water and wine.

"The slaves most allus sings whilst theys workin' in the field, and one
song was

    "When I's here you calls me honey,
    When I's gone you honies everybody.

or

    "The raccoon am de funny thing,
    Ramblin' round in de dark.

"Massa Sam have a cullud man what give us our ABC's. I still got mine,
but didn't never git no further.


[Illustration: _Mariah Snyder_]


"Massa Sam git kilt 'fore the war. A mule throwed him. He had plenty
good hosses but allus rid a mule. He come in from a neighbor's one day
and the mule throwed him on a stob 'fore he got to the house. We heared
a hollerin' down the road, but didn't pay no 'tention, 'cause they's
allus all kind racket gwine on. Fin'ly somebody say, 'That sound like a
man,' and we goes down there and it was massa. 'Fore he die he calls all
the cullud chillen to him and shakes hands and tells 'em to be good.

"We 'longs to he son, Ruben, then, and stays with him three years after
surrender. Lordy me! How I hates to think of 'em talkin' 'bout that war!
Young missy cry a whole week, 'cause she fear her men folks gwine git
kilt. They did, too. Her two boys, George and Frank, gits kilt, and heap
of the neighbors boys gits kilt, too.

"Fin'ly us leaves Massa Ruben and goes to Shreveport and I marries
Snyder. The 'Progo' Marshal marries us. We raises two gals and I lives
with Mary. Snyder died twenty-two years ago and all them years I made a
livin' washin' and ironin' and cookin', up to six years ago. I gits a
pension from the gov'ment now and it am $10.00 a month. It's mighty good
of the white folks to take care of this old nigger, but I'd rather work,
only I ain't able no more."




Patsy Southwell


*Patsy Southwell, 83, was born in Jasper Co., Texas. She has lived on or
near the old plantation all her life. Her master was Bill Trailor.*

"My name Patsy Southwell and I lives at Rock Hill. I been livin' on dat
plantation all my life, but not allus in the very same place. I think
the house was move and 'nother builded.

"My pappy was John Redd and he 'longed to Bill Trailor and he brung here
from Virginny. Mammy's name Rose Redd and she a yaller nigger, come from
South Carolina and maybe she white and Indian, too. My brothers call
Dennis, George, William, and Charles and dey all dead.

"We all live in the quarters and massa a tol'able good one 'sidering
others what cut and slashes bad. Pappy and mammy work in the field and
dey send pappy and he sons off six months at the time, over to
Alexandria, to make salt.

"My brothers hunt all the time and brung in deer and wild turkey, so we
has lots to eat. We has butter and milk and honey and pappy allus have
he li'l garden patch.

"We wears slip homespun dress make outten cloth from us loom. I never
have shoes and us has no Sunday clothes. Massa was tol'ably good to the
old folks and not so mean to the chillen. He wasn't no barbarian like
some what whip the slaves every Monday mornin' befo' dey starts to work.

"Massa plantation have fifteen hunnerd acre in it and he didn't have
'nough slaves so they works awful hard. I seed 'em hit my mammy five
hunnerd licks and my pappy six hunnerd. Pappy have run 'way and been
gone long time and they cotch him in de water in the Neches River. He
have meat and stuff and they say mammy feedin' him, but I think it the
other way. I think he gittin' and sendin' her stuff.

"The white folks has the big church with the bar 'cross it and the
cullud folks sit behin' the bar. If any wants to jine us tell massa and
he tell the preacher, and he old man Southwell. They baptise at the mill
pond.

"I marries Jerry Southwell and us git marry at home. Jerry wears the
black suit and I wears the dotted white Swiss dress with the overskirt.

"When freedom breaks and massa say we free, we goes to the Haynes' place
and my pappy farms for hisself. We gits on better den in slavery days
and after 'while pappy buys him some land and den we all right. Me and
my husban', we stays on with pappy awhile, but we gits our own farm and
farm all us life."




Leithean Spinks


*Leithean Spinks, 82, was born a slave to Fay Thompson, in Rankin
County, Mississippi. Soon after Leithean's birth, Mr. Thompson moved to
E. Feliciana Parish, Louisiana. Leithean was happy in slave days, and
stayed with her master two years after she was freed. She lives at 2600
Merrick St., Fort Worth, Texas.*

"Does I look old 'nough to be birthed in slavery? I's eighty-two years
old and mammy had it right there in de Bible, marked when I's birthed,
in 1855. I's birthed in Mississippi but a little while after, massa goes
to Louisiana, over in East Feliciana Parish, and when I's old 'nough to
'member, we'uns am there, 'twixt New Roads and Jackson, right near the
Mississippi River.

"Massa Thompson had a awful big plantation and more'n 300 cullud folks,
and three rows of cabins 'bout two blocks long, and 'bout one family to
a cabin. No floors in dem cabins, you stands on dirt, and de furniture
am something you knows ain't there. Why, man, there am jus' benches to
sit on and a homemake table and bunks. Dere am de fireplace but all de
main cookin' am done in de big cookin' shed, and old Mammy Dice done it,
with four to holp her.

"De bell am rung when meal time comes and all de slaves lines up, with
their pans and cups and passes de service table, and de food am put on
dere pans and milk in de cup. Dat de one time massa could allus 'pend on
de niggers. When de bell say, 'Come and git it,' all us am there. Us
takes de food to de cabins and eats it.

"Dis old nigger come near gwine to Glory once when mammy am gone to de
cook shed. How 'twas am dis-a-way. She latches de door on de outside to
keep us three chillen in de cabin, my sis and brudder and me. Well, in
dem days, us uses tallow candles for light and pine knots when candles
am short. Mammy lights de pine knot befo' she leaves and after she am
gone, it falls off de hook and hits de ground and rolls a couple feet
under de bunk. There am straw in de tick and right off de whole shebang
am on fire. There am three of us with de door latch and all de grown-ups
in de cook shed. Us hollers and yells but it am no use, and de hollerin'
don't last long, 'cause de smoke gittin' thick. De fire am spreadin'
fast and de bunks starts burnin'. Us am huddle togedder, skeert plumb
out our wits and chokin' and coughin'.

"Den my brudder gits de idea and he grabs de big spoon and de iron poker
and starts diggin' de dirt from under de log next de door. De smoke
ain't so bad next de ground, and did yous ever see de dog diggin' in de
rabbit hole? Dat how us digs, and seems it never gwine come a hole.
Finally, a hole busted through and lets in fresh air, and den us dig
some more, and it am big 'nough for my little sis to crawl through. Den
us dig some more and I crawls out and my brudder starts but he gits he
head outside and his shoulders wedges and there he am, stucked. Us pull
and pull, but nary a inch could us budge him. He try to back up but he
shirt caught on a knot and he can't do dat. So us runs for de cook shed
and yells, 'Mammy, de cabin on fire.' Everybody starts to holler,
'Fire,' and mammy busts in de door and yanks brudder out dat hole, and
he am sweatin' like a latherin' mare. After dey puts de fire out with de
water buckets, mammy say, 'When sis gits out, why didn't she unlatch de
door?' 'Cause de 'citement, us never think of dat!

"Us have plenty hawg meat and veg'tables and butter and 'lasses and
honey. De food ain't short no time 'round massa, 'cause he say niggers
works better when dey feeds good. De mammies leaves de babies in de
nursery durin' de day and dem chillen am take good care of and has lots
of milk and am all fat like hawgs.

"In de mornin' when de bell ring, everybody goes to work, but I is
little and does de chores and am gap tender. De cattle am 'lowed to run
where dey wants, here, there and all over. Fences am 'round de fields
and yards and there am gates to go through, but us calls dem gaps. It am
my job to open and close dem, 'cause somebody allus wantin' to drive or
walk through dem gaps.

"MY sis am de fly chaser. She has de big fan make from de tail feathers
of de peacock. 'Twas awful purty thing. She stands 'round de white folks
and shoo off de flies.

"Massa Fay ain't hard on he cullud folks. He works dem steady but don't
drive dem. Lots de slaves goes fishin' in de river on Saturday afternoon
and Sunday, and dey cotches plenty fish.

"Us has parties and singin' and dancin' and fiddle music. Oh, Lawdy! How
lonesome I gits when I thinks 'bout dem days, and de music and singin'.
Sometimes 'bout a hunerd sings to once and dat sound purty and jus' go
all through me.


[Illustration: _Leithean Spinks_]


"For runnin' off am de only hard whuppin's massa give. De run-off am tie
to de log and massa lay de whuppin' on he back. De plantation am near de
river and dere am lots of caves and cliffs to hide in. Massa cotch de
run-offs with de nigger hounds and if he don't, dey git hongry and
sneaks back. Only one gits clear away.

"One Sunday mornin' 'bout ten o'clock, massa have de bell ring and calls
all us to de front gallery and makes de talk. He say, 'I's happy to tell
yous is free and, 'cording to de law, yous am all citizens. Dem what
wants to stay with me I'll pay de wages or dey can work on shares.' He
gives us all de paper, with de name and age and where us am birthed. Me
and mammy stays two years after freedom. I marries Sol Pleasant in 1872
and us has two chillen. Us sep'rate in 1876. De trouble am, he wants to
be de boss of de job and let me do de work. I 'cides I don't need no
boss, so I transports him, and says, 'Nigger, git out of here and don't
never come back. If you comes back, I'll smack you down.'

"In 1876 I marries Frank Spinks and us has eight chlllen and he dies in
1930. All dem eight chillen lives here and I's livin' with one of dem,
Mrs. Covy Kelly. 'Tain't many years befo' old Gabriel blow he horn, and
I's waitin' for him."




Guy Stewart


*Guy Stewart, 87, 209 Austin Ave., Ft. Worth, was born Nov. 26, 1850, a
slave of Jack Taylor, who also owned Guy's parents, 3 brothers and 3
sisters. They lived in Mansfield Parish, La. Stewart started work in the
fields at seven years, and remained with his owner three years after he
was freed. He then moved onto his own farm where he lived until 1898,
when he moved to Fort Worth.*

"Yas, suh, I'se an ol' slave and I'se 'bout 11 years ol' when de War
starts. My marster am Jack Taylor and my family belongs to him.

"I 'members de war well, 'cause we'uns hears shootin' and see soldiers.
Dey comes to marster's place and takes hosses and vittals. One time dey
wants some of de niggers for to help fix for de battle. Dere am heap of
'citement and de marster's 'fraid de battle come too close. He say,
'It's too close for saftment.' And he say, 'Put dis and dat away so de
soldier cain't find it.'

"I starts work long 'fore dat, when I'se seven, in de cotton and co'n
field. I just peddles 'round first. Marster sho' am good to us and so
good dat de other white folks calls us de 'free niggers.'

"We'uns have cabins for to live in and sleep in bunks with straw ticks
on 'em. We'uns has lots to eat, all we wants. And we'uns have all de
clothes we needs.

"Sho, we went to church with de marster. Dey tol' us 'bout Heaven and de
devil and sich. But dey never 'lows us to have books in de hands. Dey
says it wasn' good for us to larn readin' or writin.' "We'uns has lots
of music on dat place 'cause de marster, he am de good fiddler and he
learns some of us niggers to play de fiddle and de banjo. We gits
together and has de music, sing and dance. If I thinks 'bout dem days
now, I can see we'uns dancin' and hear de singin' of dem ol' songs, sich
like Ol' Black Joe and Swanee River. Iffen I thinks too much 'bout dem
days, tears comes in dis ol' nigger's eyes. Dem were de happy days of my
life. In dem days, we'uns not know what am money, never have any. What
for we'uns need it? I'se more happy den, dan I been since, with money.

"De marster am scart for to lose all de hosses and everything, 'cause
dey takes it for de army man, so he gits to thinkin' 'bout movin' to
Texas. De war warn't over when he goes to Texas and takes all us niggers
with him. De roads dem days am not so good. No bridges over de rivers,
'cept de bigges' ones. Lots of times we'uns has to push for help de
hosses pull de wagons outta de mudhole, and we'uns is over a month
gettin' to Williams County. De marster rents de land dere and we stays
for one crop, and den we all goes to Travis County, whar marster settle
for to raise de wheat.

"When freedom comes, de marster says we'uns has to work for wages and
buy all de food and de clothes and everything dat we'uns gits. Dat's not
so easy. At first he pays me $5.00 a month and den pays me $10.00 de
month. After three years I quits and rents a farm and works for myself,
I gits married in 1877 and my wife dies in 1915. We'uns has one chile.
In 1898 I comes to Fort Worth and gits me a job in de woodyard and sich.

"White man, I sho' likes for to see dat ol' plantation down in Louisiana
and it would do dis ol' darky good. I sits here and thinks of de marster
and de good times. And de fishin down dere! Is dere good fishin'? De
folks here don' know what am fishin'.

"You has dis nigger thinkin' heaps 'bout de ol' plantation and de good
times. If I don' stop talkin' 'bout dat, I gits to cryin'."




William Stone


*William Stone was born in a covered wagon, on the way from Alabama to
Texas, about 1863. Though he was too small to remember slave days, he
does recall many things told him by his parents and other ex-slaves.
William lives in Mart, Texas.*

"My parents done told me where I's borned. It am in a covered wagon on
de way from Alabama to Texas, two years 'fore freedom. Old Marse, Lem
Stone, he left Alabama for Texas, where de war not so bad, and brung
some he slaves with him. He done lost so much in Alabama, Yankees
burnin' he house and cotton and killin' he stock, he want to git 'way
from dere.

"First he come to Rusk County, den goes back to Shreveport and stays
till freedom. Pappy and mammy was Louis and Car'line Stone. I lived in
Louisiana till I's growed.

"Mammy and pappy done told me all 'bout de old plantation. It am
hundreds of acres of land, part worked and part jus' timber and pasture.
It was near Montgomery, and dey raised more cotton den anything else,
but had some corn and peas and cane. Dey made sorghum and ribbon cane
'lasses and had boilin' vats for sugar, too.

"De soldiers come through. Dey named, Yankees. Dey make mammy cook
somethin' to eat and den kilt all de hawgs and took de meat with dem,
and burn de barn and house. Old Marse had pens to put cotton in, hid way
out in de bresh. Dey picked it in gunny sacks and hides it, and slips it
out to de gin by night and tries to sell it 'fore dem Yankees finds it
and burns it.

"Mammy say dey all went to church and had to drive four horses when de
roads muddy in winter and sand deep in summer. Dey allus carry dinner
and stay all day. Den in de evenin', after de niggers had dey preachin',
dey all go home. Sometimes a preacher come out to de plantation and hold
church for de white folks in de mornin' and in de evenin' for de
niggers, out under a big oak tree.

"De Lawd say iffen us trusts him and help to be good he gwine make our
path straight. Dis was true in de days of den, 'cause our white folks
tooken care of us, befo' dey was freedom and sech. Now, us gittin' old,
and gits de old age pension when us too old to work.

"I works all up and down de old river when I's growed. De plantations
has long staple cotton. Dey raise sugar cane and dere be twenty wagons
haulin' cane to de boilin' mills. We was happy to do dat work, 'cause we
knowed it mean us have plenty 'lasses in winter. Lawdy, I wish I knowed
I could have all de 'lasses and bread I wanted dis winter! Dem was good
times, Lawd! Us sing dis song:

    "'We'll stick to de hoe till de sun go down,
    We'll rise when de rooster crow,
    And go to de field where de sunshine hot,
    To de field where de sugar cane grow.
    Yes, chilluns, we'll all go.'

"I can jes' see dem long rows of cotton and niggers drivin' de oxen and
mules. I know 'nother song:

    "Nigger mighty happy when he layin' by de corn,
    Nigger mighty happy when he hear dat dinner horn;
    But he more happy when de night come on,
    Dat' sun's a'slantin', as sho's you born!
    Dat old cow's a shakin' dat great big bell,
    And de frogs tunin' up, 'cause de dew's done fell.'

"Dat jes' after freedom. Dey have plantations and overseers like
slavery, but most de overseers niggers, and dey didn't whip you den. On
Saturday night de overseer pay us, mostly in rations. He give us five,
maybe ten pounds rations of meat, and a peck or two or meal, and some
coffee and 'lasses.

    "'Dat ration day come once a week,
    Old massa rich as Gundy.
    But he give 'lasses all de week,
    And buttermilk for Sunday.

    "'Old massa give a pound of meat,
    I et it all on Monday;
    Den I et 'lasses all de week,
    And buttermilk for Sunday.'

"All dis was down on de Mississippi bottom. Old Man River was sho' purty
in de fall, when dem wild geeses come in droves and de blossoms red and
yaller. De fogs come hang over and chills and fever gits started. De
woman sot by de fire piecin' quilts and spinnin' thread, and de old men
weave cotton baskets and chair bottoms, and de young men work on da
levees, so dey hold Old Man River back when he start prowlin' round
'gain.


[Illustration: _William Stone_]


"Floods come down, no matter what time of year. One day Old Man River be
runnin' 'long, jes' as peaceful and quiet, and everybody happy.
Everybody meet de boats at de landin'. Den way in de night you wake up
and hear a roarin' like thunder and dat river be on a tear. Folks know
he am in de ugly mood, and starts movin' to higher ground. Everybody
what have a wagon and mule gits out. Some jes' gits to de levee. It look
like my folks told me when dey run from de Yankees, only dis time it's
de river. Old Man River sho' treach'ous. After he go on one he rarin'
and tearin' spells, den he gwine be so peaceful and quiet like. Look
like he try to make up for he meanness.

"I gits married and moves clost to de Trinity River, and stays till my
family done raised. Dey has free schools in Texas den. I works in de
sawmill and dere so much wild game us can eat easy. Dem days on de
Mississippi bottom is like a dream, but when I hears talk 'bout Old Man
River, I can dem big waters roarin' down."




Yach Stringfellow


*Yach Stringfellow, 90, was born a slave of Frank Hubert, in Brenham,
Texas. His memory is poor and, though he recalled a good many incidents
of slavery days, he had little to say about his life from 1865 to the
present. He now lives in Watt, Texas.*

"I'll be ninety-one years old next May, and I was borned in Brenham. My
massa and missus was Frank Hubert and Sarah Ann Hubert. My daddy come
from de old Africa and was tall and straight as a arrow. He was sold to
a man what tooked him to California in de gold rush in 1849 and me and
mammy stays with Massa Hubert. Dat how come my name ain't de same as
massa have.

"I got so much misery in de head I can't 'member like I should. But I
know us live in little log houses all kind of group together, and us eat
in a long lean-to builded on to the big house. Us chillen had a long,
scooped-out dish on a split log table. What we had to eat was dumped in
dat trough and us ate it like slop. But it sho' taste good when you been
huntin' for eggs or calves or gittin' in chips or breakin' bresh.

"When I's big 'nough I carries water, sometimes from de spring and
sometimes from de deep well. Dere danger a little child fall in and
drown and massa, he say niggers too valu'ble to risk dem dat way. It was
hard work to tote water for niggers workin', 'cause allus somebody
hollerin' for de water. I had to trot down de slippery bank through de
thorns to de spring or pull de heavy sweep to git it out de well, and
carry two buckets most de time.

"Us cut two saplin's de right size to fasten together at de end and
stick dem in holes in de wall, to make de bed. Us use lace cowhide
strings or any kind rope across de poles to hold de bed up. Den put hay
or corn shucks and a little cotton in de ticks.

"Us eat bacon and cornbread and greens, but de white folks had more'n
better. Dey didn't have to eat string victuals like us; us have to eat
something to stick to de ribs. Right 'bout de time dis state come to be
de United States, and de Mexicans raisin' de old billy, us cook most
usual on de fireplace and have ovens by de side to make bread, and
cranes for de pots.

"Us slaves used pine torches and sometimes a little bit of candle. De
women make all de candles demselves for de white folks. Us didn't need
much light at night, 'cause us tired after de long day, workin' from can
see to can't see, and us git in de bed early.

"I wore shirt tail till I's fourteen, den de homespun britches and
shirt. My weddin' suit was de dark jeans and I was fix up fine as any
nigger on de plantation. She wore white and massa fix supper and git de
fiddler and all sich.

"Massa have John to oversee, and he sho' de stepper. He be every place
you didn't think he gwine come. He have de big, boom voice and allus
slingin', and wail, 'Look along, black man, look along, dere trouble
comin' sho'.' Iffen de black boy or woman lyin' in de corn row, dey git
up quick and be mighty bust right soon, 'cause dat black snake whip
reach for dem. Dey scramble deyself together and be de busiest in de
bunch by time John git dere.


[Illustration: _Yach Stringfellow_]


"In de long winter days de men sat round de fire and whittle wood and
make butter paddles and troughs for de pigs and sich, and ax handles and
hoe handles and box traps and figure-four traps. Dey make combs to git
de wool clean for de spinnin'. Us take de long strip of leather and put
wire in it and bend dem so dey stay, den cut dem comb-like teef and dere
you are.

"Come Christmas us slaves have de big dinner and eat all day and dance
till nex' mornin'. Some de niggers from near plantations git dey passes
and come jine us. Course dey a drap egg nog round and candy for de
chillen. De white folks have dey big carriage full of visitors and big
goin's on dey come to from miles round. Us didn't have no money, but
didn't have no place to go to spend it, neither.

"At night, us sat round de fire sometimes and de women sew and knit and
de men whittle and told things. Dey talk 'bout charms and sich. You
gwine have lots of luck iffen you cotch de rabbit in de graveyard on de
dark of de moon and cut off he hind leg and wear it. Iffen you chews de
piece of shoe-string root, jus' you ask anybody a favor and you sho'
gwine git it."




Bert Strong


*Bert Strong was born in 1864, a slave of Dave Cavin. He and his mother
remained in the service of the Cavin family for ten years after they
were freed. Bert has farmed in Harrison County all his life and now
lives alone on Long's Camp Road, twelve miles northeast of Marshall. He
is supported by a $15.00 per month pension.*

"I been livin' here all my life. I was birthed a year and more 'fore the
war stopped and 'longed to old Dave Cavin. All my folks 'longed to him
over in Montgomery, in Alabama. Massa Dave buyed my mammy's papa off a
'baccy farm in Richmond, in Virginny. I heared Massa Dave say he done
come to Texas 'cause he heared in Alabama this was a rich country--hawgs
walkin' round with a knife in they back and you could shake money off
the trees. His folks and 'bout thirty slaves cone to Texas in wagons.
They was on the road three months.

"I heared my grand-people tell 'bout holpin' run the Indians out of
Texas. Big Lake, on Caddo Lake, was jus' a small kind of stream them
days. My grandpa was name Gloster and he died at a hunerd five years.

"Massa Cavin had 'bout four hunerd acres and builded us all good
quarters with chimnies and fireplaces, and good beds and plenty food.
I's too little to know all this 'fore the war, but my folks stayed with
massa ten years after freedom and things was jus' the same as in slave
times, only they got a little money, so I can 'member.

"My grandma was cook and there was plenty wild game, turkey and deer and
pigeon and rabbits and squirrels. I 'member once they's grumblin' 'bout
what they have to eat and old massa comes to the quarters and say, 'What
you fussin' 'bout? They's a gallon good potlicker in the pot." I's raise
on greens and pork and potlicker and 'taters and ash-cake. Dat am good
food, too. I ain't never hope to see no better food dan dat.

"Massa give he slaves two sets clothes a year and one pair 'bachelor'
brogan shoes with brass toes. The white folks larnt us Negroes to read
and write, at night and on Sunday, and we could go to church. We had our
own preacher, and massa let us have fun'rals when a slave died. They
wasn't no undertakers then. They jus' made the coffin and planed the
boards and lined it with black cloth. The white folks and the cullud
folks, too, was put 'way nice on our place.

"They was a overseer a while, but massa fires him for cuttin' and
slashin' he niggers. He made my uncle Freeman overlooker. We is heared
slaves on farms close by hollerin' when they git beat. Some the
neighbors works they hands till ten at night and weighed the last
weighin' by candles. If the day's pickin' wasn't good 'nough, they beat
them till it a pity.

"Christmas was the big time. Massa kilt the hawg or beef and sometimes a
mutton, and give the slaves the big dinner. Us all hang the stockin' up
on massa's gallery and it was a run to see what we'd git. He give the
chillen toys and apples and the big folks somethin' to wear. He'd 'low
the chillen to have candy pullin' Saturday nights and the growed folks
parties. My cousin, Tom, was songster and call the plays at all the
dances, and they turned 'cordin' to what he'd sing.

"When young massa went to war they calls all the slaves to tell him
good-bye. They blowed the horn. He come home two times on a furlough and
says, 'I's smellin' and seein' the Devil.' Then the nex' time he come
home he say, 'Las' time I tells you 'bout smellin' the Devil. I's
smellin' and seein' Hell now.' When the war am over, he come home and
say to old massa, 'Ain't you read the 'lamation to you niggers yet?'
Massa say he hasn't, and young massa blowed the horn and calls us all up
and tells us we's free as he is and could work for who we please, but he
like us to stay till the crop am out. He say he'd hire us and make a
contrac'. Me and my mammy stays ten years, 'cause they so good it ain't
no use to leave. One of the young massas am livin' here now, Mr. Tom,
and I goes to see him.


[Illustration: _Bert Strong_]


"I stays with mammy till I marries and then farms for myself. That all I
ever done and I'd be doin' it now if I was able. I raises two boys but
they am both dead now.

"I votes once in the county 'lection and once in the president 'lection.
I think any man should vote, but it ain't 'tended for women to vote.

"Mos' the young niggers am gwine to Hell. They don't 'preciate things.
They has lots more'n we ever did. They can go to school and all, but
they don't 'preciate it."




Emma Taylor


*Emma Taylor, 89, was born a slave of the Greer family, in Mississippi.
She and her mother were sold to a Texas man, whose name Emma has
forgotten. Emma lives with one of her children, in Tyler, Texas.*

"My maw and paw lived in Mississippi, and belonged to Marse Greer. Dat
dere name, too. All the slaves tooken dere master's name, 'cause dey
hadn't no use for a name, nohow.

"De first thing I 'members is followin' my maw in the cotton patch. She
allus went ahead, pickin' cotton, and made a clean place with her sack
draggin' on the ground. But de first work I ever done was feed de
chickens and geese and shell corn to feed dem.

"Us nigger chillen couldn't play with de white chillen. De worstest
whippin' I ever got was fer playin' with a doll what belonged to one
marse's chillen. I 'members it yet and I ain't never seed a doll purty
as dat doll was to me. It was make out a corncob with arms and legs what
moved and a real head, with eyes and hair and mouth painted on. It had a
dress out of silk cloth, jist like one my missus weared when she went to
meetin'. Dat li'l gal done leave de doll under de tree, but missus found
me playin' with it and whipped me hard.

"We lived in a cabin in de back field 'hind de big house, one room and a
shed room, where maw done all de cookin' for de whole family. I had
three brothers and three sisters, all dead, I supposes. Dey all older'n
what I was. We cooked on a fireplace, and a big pot hanged on poles over
de fire and de bread cook on dat fire in a skillet what was made of two
pieces of iron, turn up all round. We puts de dough in one and turns de
other one over it, den buries it in de coals a few minutes till it brown
on de top and bottom. It was good, jist as good as nowadays, baked in a
oven. Our beds was made out of straw and old rags, but we kept warm
sleepin' a whole lot in one bed in winter, but we slept outside in
summer.

"I was sold one time. Marse, he gittin' old and 'cide he didn't need so
many slaves, so he have de sale and a man come and put us all up on a
big platform. We pulls off nearly all our clothes, so as to show how big
we was, and he 'gins hollerin' 'bout who gwineter buy, who gwineter buy.
I was scart and thunk I has to leave maw, so I 'gins hollerin' jist as
loud as he does. He turn 'round and say, 'Shut up, you li'l coon, you. I
can't hear nothin'.' I hides my face in maw's apron and didn't know no
more till we's all loaded in a wagon and starts to de new home. We gits
dere and is give new clothes and shoes, de first ones I ever had on and
it taken me a long time to larn to wear dem things on my feet.

"Us niggers has to git up at four in de mornin', and work, work till us
can't see no more. Den dey work at night. De men chops wood and hauls
poles to build fences and make wood, and de women folks has to spin four
cuts of thread every night and make all de clothes. Some has to card
cotton to make quilts and some weave and knits stockin's. Marse give
each one a chore to do at night and iffen it warn't did when we went to
bed, we's whipped. One time I falls plumb asleep befo' I finishes
shellin' some corn, but I didn't git a bad whippin' dat time.

"Sometimes de niggers danced and played de fiddle and us chillen played
in de yard. We could stay up all night dem times, but had to work next
day, and hardly ever stayed up all night. Dat durin' harvest or at
Christmas time.

"All de victuals was issued out by de overseer and he give 'nough for
one week, den iffen us eat it all up too soon, it am jist go without.
Lots of times, I went down to de 'tato patch a long time after everybody
am in bed, and stole 'tatoes, so we wouldn't be hungry next day. I allus
covered de hole up good and never did git cotched. De dogs got after me
one time, but I put pepper in dey eyes and dey stopped. I allus carried
pepper with me.


[Illustration: _Emma Taylor_]


"I marries when I's fifteen, not so long befo' I'm free. Nigger men
didn't git no license to marry dey gals den. Dey jist picked her out and
asked marse, and iffen he 'grees, dey's married. But iffen he don't want
it, dat man has to find heself 'nother gal. De men what lived on 'nother
plantation couldn't see dere wives but onct every two weeks. Marse buyed
my husban', Rube Taylor, and he come to live with me.

"One day marse say we's all free and we has a big celebration, eatin'
and dancin'. But we near all stayed on his place for a long time after
day. He paid us thirty-five cents de day and let us live in de same old
houses.

"After we done left him, we jist drifts 'round, workin' for white folks,
till we manages to git a farm. Rube done died a long time back, and I
lives with my baby child."




Mollie Taylor


*Mollie Taylor, 84, was born a slave to John Wilson, at Campbell, Texas.
After she was freed, Mollie moved with her family to an adjoining farm
which they worked on shares. Mollie now lives at 522 Seaton St., Fort
Worth, Texas.*

"Now den, I's no record of when I's born and just what de white folks
tells me is all I knows. I'll be 84 this coming October, but just what
day I don't know. I's born on Massa John Wilson's farm at Campbell,
Texas and him owned my father and mother and 'bout 20 more slaves. Dere
was 'bout four or five chillen in we'uns family. My father died and I
don't 'member much 'bout him, but his name was Anson Wilson and my
mother name was Hattie Wilson. We'uns gits de name from de massa.

"Us slaves lived in log houses back of massa's house, and they was two
and three-room houses with dirt floors and de rock fireplace and just
holes for windows. De flies come in de door and go out de window, but
most of 'em stayed in de house. Dere was no furniture like am today. No,
suh, it was homemake stuff. De bunks was built 'gainst de wall and full
of straw or hay and de tables was made of split logs. Dere was de cook
room and de eatin' room where all de slaves meals cooked and they ate,
'tween de slaves quarters and de massa's house.

"Massa Wilson, him feed us purty good, with de cornmeal and 'lasses and
plenty coffee and milk. We has white flour once a week and massa git de
sugar by de barrel. De slaves could have dere own gardens and dey raised
most dere vegetables. All de chillen ate out of de wooden trough with
wooden spoons. It was a sight to watch them, day just like de bunch of
pigs.

"De overseer, him ring de bell 'bout half past four in de mornin' and
everybody what work go to de fields. De massa purty reason'ble with de
work and didn't whip much. On Sundays de old slaves goes to de church
and de chillen plays.

"When war come dere lots of soldiers allus ridin' by de place, all deck
out in de uniform with big, shiny buttons on de coat. When us chillen
seed dem we took to de woods.

"After freedom we'uns moves to de next farm and works and I stays dere
with my family till I's 'bout 25 year old, and den I marries Tom Gould
and move to McLennan County. But he so mean I didn't stay with him very
long, and 'bout six months of his foolishness and I ups and leaves him.
After two years I marries George Taylor and I lives with dat man for 12
years and took 'nough of his foolishness, so I leaves him. I's had four
chillen but Tom Gould nor George Taylor wasn't de father of any of 'em.
No, suh, I just found dem chillen."




Jake Terriell


*Jake Terriell, born a slave of Felix Terriell in Raleigh, South
Carolina, does not know his age. He was grown and married at the close
of the Civil War, so is probably in the 90's. He lives in Madisonville,
Texas.*

"Pappy and mammy was called Tom and Jane and they's cotched in Africy
and brung to America and sold. My brother was called James and my
sisters Lucindy and Sally. Massa Felix Terriell owned me and pappy and
mammy but when I's still a chile he done give me to he son, Massa Dalton
Terriell.

"My papy was de wild man and he so wild Massa Felix have to keep him
locked up at night and in de chains by day to keep him from runnin' off.
He had to wear de chains in de field and den he couldn't run fast.

"Massa Dalton growed de tobaccy. He was a good massa and give me de
nickel and de dime sometime and I'd buy candy. He have lots of slaves
and de cook fix our grub in big old skillets. We allus have de cornbread
and de syrup and some meat. I likes possum cooked with sweet 'taters.

"Missy Mary try larn me read and write but I never did care for de book
larnin'. Massa wake us 'bout four o'clock with de great iron and hammer
and us work long as us could see.

"Massa didn't have to whip us but I seed pappy whip, with de rawhide
with nine tails. He got thirty-nine licks and every lick, it brung de
blood.

"I seed slaves sold and you has heared cattle bawl when de calves took
from de mammy and dat de way de slaves bawls. When massa sell de slave
he make 'em wash up and grease de face good and stand up straight and he
fatten 'em jus' like you do hawgs to sell. I had de good massa. He was
good to black debbils, what he call us niggers. Us could rest when us
git to de quarters or go by de big tank and take de bath, and every
Saturday night us git de holiday and have banjo and tin pan beatin' and
dance. On Christmas massa kilt de big hawg and us fix it jus' like us
wants and have big dinner.

"Massa have doctor when us sick. He say us too val'ble. If us sold us
brung 'bout $1,000. Old mammy could fix de charm and git us well. She
gather bark and make de tea. Most us sickness chill and fever. Sometime
a slave git leg broke and massa say he no more 'count and finish him up
with de club.

"Massa nearly kilt in de fightin' and he had he doctor write missy to
set us free. I had two wives and missy said I couldn't keep but one, so
I takes Mary and us starts out for Texas, a-foot. Us most starved to
death 'fore us got here and then us have hard time. But dere plenty wild
meat and dat what us lived on three, four year. Us had two chillen and
den she dies and I marry a half-Indian gal and she died. Us jus' 'greed
to live together in dem days, no weddin'. Then I marries Lucie Grant and
us have 11 chillen and de preacher calls us man and wife. I's pappy to
17 chillen and I don't know how many grandchillen. Lucie say more'n a
hun'erd."




J.W. Terrill


*J.W. Terrill was born in DeSoto Parish, Louisiana, and is about 100
years old. His master was his father. He now lives in Madisonville,
Texas.*

"My father took me away from my mother when at age of six weeks old and
gave me to my grandmother, who was real old at the time. Jus' befo' she
died she gave me back to my father, who was my mammy's master. He was a
old batchelor and run saloon and he was white, but my mammy was a Negro.
He was mean to me.

"Finally my father let his sister take me and raise me with her chillen.
She was good to me, but befo' he let her have me he willed I must wear a
bell till I was 21 year old, strapped 'round my shoulders with the bell
'bout three feet from my head in steel frame. That was for punishment
for bein' born into the world a son of a white man and my mammy, a Negro
slave. I wears this frame with the bell where I couldn't reach the
clapper, day and night. I never knowed what it was to lay down in bed
and get a good night's sleep till I was 'bout 17 year old, when my
father died and my missy took the bell offen me.

"Befo' my father gave me to his sister, I was tied and strapped to a
tree and whipped like a beast by my father, till I was unconscious, and
then left strapped to a tree all night in cold and rainy weather. My
father was very mean. He and he sister brung me to Texas, to North
Zulch, when I 'bout 12 year old. He brung my mammy, too, and made her
come and be his mistress one night every week. He would have kilt every
one of his slaves rather than see us go free, 'specially me and my
mammy.

"My missy was purty good to me, when my father wasn't right 'round. But
he wouldn't let her give me anything to eat but cornbread and water and
little sweat 'taters, and jus' 'nough of that to keep me alive. I was
allus hongry. My mammy had a boy called Frank Adds and a girl called
Marie Adds, what she give birth to by her cullud husban', but I never
got to play with them. Missy worked me on the farm and there was 'bout
100 acres and fifteen slaves to work 'em. The overseer waked us 'bout
three in the mornin' and then he worked us jus' long as we could see. If
we didn't git 'round fast 'nough, he chain us to a tree at night with
nothin' to eat, and nex' day. if we didn't go on the run he hit us 39
licks with a belt what was 'bout three foot long and four inches wide.

"I wore the bell night and day, and my father would chain me to a tree
till I nearly died from the cold and bein' so hongry. My father didn't
'lieve in church and my missy 'lieved there a Lord, but I wouldn't have
'lieved her if she try larn me 'bout 'ligion, 'cause my father tell me I
wasn't any more than a damn mule. I slep' on a chair and tried to res'
till my father died, and then I sang all day, 'cause I knowed I wouldn't
be treated so mean. When missy took that bell offen me I thinks I in
Heaven 'cause I could lie down and go to sleep. When I did I couldn't
wake up for a long time and when I did wake up I'd be scairt to death
I'd see my father with his whip and that old bell. I'd jump out of bed
and run till I give out, for fear he'd come back and git me.

"I was 'bout 17 year old then and I so happy not to have that bell on
me. Missy make us work hard but she have plenty to eat and I could
sleep. On Christmas she cook us a real dinner of beef meat.

"Plenty time I listens to the cannon popping till I mos' deaf, and I was
messenger boy and spy on the blue bellies. When I'd git back to the
Southern sojers I he'ped 'em bury they dead and some what was jus'
wounded I he'ped carry home.

"When we heered was was over and we's free, we all jus' jumped up and
hollers and dances. Missy, she cries and cries, and tells us we is free
and she hopes we starve to death and she'd be glad, 'cause it ruin her
to lose us. They was a big bunch of us niggers in town and we stirrin'
'round like bees workin' in and out a hive. We was jus' that way. I went
wild and the first year I went north, but I come back 'gain to Texas.

"After 'while I marries a Indian maid. It was nothin' much but Indians
'round and there wasn't much law. I lived with her 'bout two year and
then the Indians come and captured her jus' befo' she was to give birth.
They kilt her or carried her 'way and lef' me for dead, and I never seed
or heered of her since. While I was sick a outlaw, what was Tomas
Jafferies, he'ped me git well and then I turns outlaw and follows all
signs of Indians, all over the earth. But I never could git word of my
wife.

"It mus' be 'bout 15 year after that, I marries Feline Ford, by a
preacher. My first weddin' was common weddin' with the Indian maid. I
jus' give her deerskin in front of Tomas Jefferies and she my wife."




Allen Thomas


*Allen Thomas, 97, was owned by several ranchers of Jefferson and Orange
Counties, Texas, but recalls Moise Broussard of Hamshire the best. Ill
health has affected his memory and his story is not coherent. He is a
familiar figure on the streets of Beaumont, Texas, a small man clad in
none too clean and somewhat ragged clothes, with a tow sack across his
shoulders, into which he puts such things as he finds in his wanderings
about the city. Rumor has it that Allen is fairly well to do and that
his begging attitude is assumed, for reasons of his own.*

"I figgers I's gwine be 97 year old on de fourth of August, I's borned
over in Duncan Woods, over in Orange County. My daddy's name was Lockin
Thomas. I never see my daddy. He git drown in de river here at Beaumont.
My mammy's Hetty Anderson.

"I 'longed to three masters. One John Adam and he was mean. One Stowers,
and he was mean but not so mean to me. Den dere Moise Broussard, he was
purty mean, but he never beat me. De las' man what finish raise me was
Amos Harrison and he purty good man. He wife name Mag and dey lives on
Turtle Bayou over in Chambers County. He buy me from Lewis Pinder. He
was good. My brudder was Kelly Idonia and I had a sister Lessie
Williams. Dey beat her with clubs. I's walk over many a dead person. Dey
beat 'em to death.

"Us had tins dishes dem times, master and slaves, too. Dey have wooden
paddles what us take de food out de dishes with. De white folks sot at
one table and de cullud folks have table to deyself, but 'bout what de
white folks has.

"Us have watermilion and sugar cane and milk and butter. Den us have de
possum. Us clean him and put him top de house and 'low de frost fall on
him. Den us fill him full salt and pepper and put him in de oven.
Sometime put sweet 'taters all 'round him. Us have de long, square oven
with de lid on it.

"Us wore knitted shirt make on dem looms and dey gives us boots with
brass toes on 'em. Me and mammy work on de spinnin' wheel many a night
up to one or two o'clock. I used to card de bats.


[Illustration: _Allen Thomas_]


"Dere plenty hawgs and hosses and dem cattle what am longhorn. Us have
plenty meat and raise veg'tables, too.

"I never seed no sojers but I heared de cannons. I disremember when
peace am corral'. I come up here to Beaumont when I thank I's a man and
I's been here every Gawd's since.

"I see some sperrits, but I see 'em only special times. You see 'em
twict a year, 'tween spring and summer and den 'gain 'twixt fall and
winter. Sometime dey comes right 'long and den sometime dey jis'
standin' still. When you looks at 'em dey looks kinder vagueish. I can
allus tell when sperrits 'round. Dey got a queer scent. When you walk
'bout 20 feet, steam gwineter hit you in de face. I can tell dey dere
iffen I can't see 'em. Dey look like men. Dey ain't white but dey got a
pale look."




Bill and Ellen Thomas


*Bill and Ellen Thomas live in the Old Slave Settlement, 3 miles north
of Hondo. Bill is 88 and Ellen is 81. They seem to be happy; their
fields are tilled, a horse and a cow graze near the house; a kitchen
garden is under way and several broods of baby chicks are in the yard.
They were dressed in simple, clean clothes, and Ellen wears a string of
nutmegs around her neck, to 'make yer eyes strong.'*

Uncle Bill's Story

"Does you want me to start right at the beginnin'? Well, I'll tell you
jes' how I went to this country. I left Falls County where I belonged to
the man there that kept the post office. He was named Chamlin. He had
lots of land, I reckin about 50 acres. They kep' us in a little house
right in their yard. Reckin how old I was when he bought me? Jus' five
years old! He give $500 for me, but he bought my mother and my sisters,
too. He had to buy me, 'cause my mother, she wouldn't go without me. No,
suh, she tol' 'em she wouldn't go if they didn' buy me, too. An' the man
he bought us f'om, he wanted to keep me, so he wouldn't take less than
$500 for me. Massa Chamblin bought the whole family, 'cept my father.
They sold him and we never laid eyes on him again.

"My mother cooked. Massa Chamlin, he always fed us plenty, an' whatever
they had, we had. If he cooked sausage, you had it too; if he cooked
ham, you got it too; if he cooked lye hominy, you got it; an' if he had
puddin', you got some.

"When I was 6 or 7 years old I chopped cotton and I plowed too, and I
could lay as straight rows with oxen as any you ever saw.

"The massa whipped me with a dogwood switch, but he never did bring no
blood. But it taken 7 men to whip my father.

"I'll tell you how I got away f'om there. Massa bought cotton and
carried it to Mexico. He taken his 2 boys with him and we had 3 wagons
and I drove one. I had 4 oxen and I had 3 bales of cotton on my wagon;
he had 6 oxen and 6 bales of cotton, and the last wagon, it had 10 bales
on it and 6 oxen. He had to ship it acrost the Rio Grande. If a Mexican
bought it, he come across and took it over hisself. Reckin how much he
got for that cotton? He got 60c a pound. Yes'm, he sho' did. Cotton was
bringin' that then.

"I was freed over there in Mexico. I was about 14 years old. Massa
Chamlin, he stayed over there till the country was free. He didn't
believe in that fightin'.

"I cooked in a hotel over there in Mexico. I cooked two years at $1.00 a
day.

"When Massa owned me, he always give us good clothes. Our pants was made
out of duckin' like wagon sheets, but my mother took some kind of bark
and dyed 'em. I think it was blackjack bark. He give us shoes, too. They
was half-tan leather brogans."

"I used to play the fiddle for dances when I was young, but not after I
joined the church. I played for the white people. Oh, yes'm, the cullud
folks had dances, they sho' did dance.

"Yes'm, I saw a ghost onct. One night after I was livin' down here, I
was goin' to Sabinal, me and another man, and a great long thing passed
right in front of us. It was the blackest thing you ever saw. It was
about six feet long. Yes'm, it sho' was a ghost or sumpin; it
disappeared, and me lookin' at it. The other fellow that was with me, he
seen it, too.

"Yes, they was lots of panthers and bears here. If this ghost was a
bear, he sho' was a big 'un. We had a ghost down here on the creek we
called the 'Ball Water Hole Ghost.' He was seen lots of times. He used
to stay down there, but he ain't been seen lately. My wife, she seen
him."

Aunt Ellen's Story

"Yes'm, I seen him walkin' 'long the trail ahead of us. He had on a
black hat, like a tall stovepipe hat, and a long black coat, and when we
got up close he jes' disappeared. He was a big man, and tall, too. We
didn' know which way he went; he jes' seemed to disappear. My oldest
daughter saw him too. Lots of folks did. He was always seen down at that
water hole somewhere.

"Another time, I was stayin' with Mrs. Reedes. Mr. Reedes was killed and
all night long he'd come back and grind coffee and sprinkle it all over
us. I was so bad scared I nearly died. Next mornin' there'd be coffee
all over the floor. We supposed it was Mr. Reede's ghost. They say if a
person was wicked they come back like that. Onct he pulled Mrs. Reedes
outta bed and pitched her on the floor, and he would take the dishes out
of the shelves and throw 'em down. I couldn't stand it but a night or
two and I said I was goin' home. Yes, ma'am, it sho' was a ghost. He
sho' did tear up that house every night. Why, they'd be a light shine in
that room just as plain as daylight, nearly. They say ghosties will run
you, but I never had any to run me."

"I was born in Mississippi. We come to Texas and my mother died, so
grandma raised me. I was jes' a baby when we come to Texas. Mr. Harper
owned us. I remember the war, but it's so long ago I don't remember
much. I remember when John Harper read the free paper to us. He had a
big lot of slaves, but

when he read, the free papers they jes' flew out like birds. But I
didn't. I was stickin' to my grandmother. She was on crutches and she
stayed on at the Harper place.


[Illustration: _Bill and Ellen Thomas_]


"After we was free I worked for them a long time. I cooked, washed,
ironed, milked the cows. He was pretty good to us, Judge Harper was. I
went along with him when he went to war, his wife and chillun did too,
and I nursed them, I'd give a young baby shuck tea to break him out with
the hives. For chills and fever I give quinine weed. It don't grow here.

"When Judge Harper went up to Hondo my grandma grabbed me and kept me.
So I stayed and worked. I was still a young girl, but I plowed, hauled
and grubbed. I used to wear 'cotton stripes.' I remember 'em well. It
was a homespun cloth. I know how to spin and weave and I could knit a
pair of socks in two nights.

"I never did hear much about hard times. I was treated good but I got
switched many a time. Oh, yes'm. I've been whipped, but not like some of
'em was. They used to tie some of 'em down. I've heered tell, they shore
whopped 'em. They used to be a runaway that got away and went to Mexico
now and then, and if they caught him they shore whopped him awful.

"That old piano in there, my daughter bought a long time ago. The
varnish is off, but a man tol' us it could be sandpapered and refinished
and it would be a beautiful thing. It's about 75 years old."




Lucy Thomas


*Lucy Thomas,86, was born in Harrison Co., Texas, a slave of Dr. William
Baldwin. She stayed with her master until 1868. In 1869 she married
Anthony Thomas. She now lives with her son at Baldwin Switch, sixteen
miles northeast of Marshall, Texas, on part of the land originally owned
by the Baldwins.*

"My name am Lucy Baldwin Thomas and I's birthed right here in Harrison
County, on the old Baldwin place at Fern Lake. The log cabin where I's
birthed sot in a grove of trees right by the lake. The Baldwin place
jined the Haggerty and Major Andrews places.

"The best statement I can make of my age am I's 'bout fourteen the last
year of Abe Lincoln's war. It was true, 'cause I starts hoein' in the
field when I's nine years old and I'd been hoein' a long time.

"They called my papa, Ike. The Baldwins bought him out of Alabama, and
mama's name was Nancy and she's birthed in Virginny, and the Baldwins
bought her out the New Orleans slave market for $1,100.00. I's heared my
gran'ma, Barbara, tell how some Alabama owners drug they niggers with a
mule and laid dem face down in a hole and beat dem till they's raw as
beefsteak. But her folks wasn't like that and the Baldwins wasn't
neither. They was good white folks, and Missy was named May Amelia and
then there was Old Marse Doctor William. He was a doctor but he worked a
hundred acres land and owned 'bout eighty-five niggers, what lived in
log quarters. They had son-of-a-gun beds peg to the walls, and wore
bachelor brogan shoes and blue and stripe lowel clothes made on the
place, and had lots to eat. My mama say she had a lots better time in
slavery than after.

"All hands was up and in the field by daylight and Marse Baldwin allus
kep' a fifty gallon barrel whiskey on the place and a demijohn on the
front porch all the time for the niggers to git they drink on way to the
field. But nobody ever got drunk.

"Marse's brother-in-law, Marse Lewis Brantly, was overseer, but never
kicked and beat the niggers. He give us a light breshin' when we needed
it. We would go mos' anywhere but had to git a pass first, and had play
parties on Saturday night.


[Illustration: _Lucy Thomas_]


"I went to school three months. A Yankee named Old Man Mills run a
school and I quit workin' in the field to go. Them days, the Klu Kluxers
was runnin' round and I seed big bunches of niggers with they heads tied
up, goin' to report the Kluxers to the Progee Marshal.

"Three years after it was all over, my folks moved to the Haggerty
place. I know lots 'bout old Col. Haggerty's widow. She was an Indian
and her first husband was a big chief of the Caddo Indians on Caddo
Lake. He betrayed the Indians to the white folks and he and her hid on a
cave on the lake, and she slipped out to git food, and the Indians took
him away. They say they scalped him like they done white folks. Then she
married Col. Haggerty and he got kilt on a gamblin' spree and left her a
lot of land and 'bout three hundred slaves. She kept a nigger woman
chained to a loom for a year and when she knew the slaves was gittin'
free, she poisoned a lot of dem and buried dem at night. We'd hear the
other slaves moanin' and cryin' at night for the dead ones. That widow
Haggerty was somthin'!

"I seed the 'Mattie Stephens' boat the day after it burned and kilt
sixty people. Me and Anthony Thomas went to Marshall and married the day
'fore it burnt. That was on February 12th, in 1869. I lived with him
fifty-five years and raised seven chillen, and after he died I kep' on
farmin' until 'bout three years ago. Then I come to live with one my
son's here and this land we're on right now was part the land old Marse
Baldwin owned. I gits $10.00 a month from the gov'ment. They sho' is
good to me, and my son is good, too, so I's happy in my old age."




Philles Thomas


*Philles Thomas, 77, was born a slave of Dave Miles, who owned a
plantation in Brazoria Co., Texas. Philles does not remember her father,
but was told by her mother that he was sent to the Confederate Army and
was fatally injured at Galveston, Texas. Philles stayed with her family
until she was seventeen, then married William Thomas. They now live at
514 Hayes St., Fort Worth, Tex.*

"I don't 'member much 'bout de war, 'cause I's jus' a young'un when it
start and too small to have much mem'randum when it stop. I's still on
de place where I's born when surrender come, de Lowoods Place, own by
Massa Dave Miles, 'twixt Brazoria and Columbia. Massa Dave sho' have de
big plantation but I don' know how many slaves.

"When I's a young'un, us kids didn't run round late. We'uns am put to
bed. When sundown come, my mammy see dat my feets am wash and de gown
put on, and in de bunk I goes.

"I can't 'member my daddy, but mammy told me him am sent to de 'Federate
Army and am kilt in Galveston. She say dey puttin' up breastworks and de
Yanks am shootin' from de ships. Well, daddy am watchin' de balls comin'
from dem guns, fallin' round dere, and a car come down de track loaded
with rocks and hit him. Dat car kilt him.

"Mammy marries Bill Bailey after freedom and moves to de Barnum Place,
what Massa John Miles own. I stays with mammy till I's seventeen and
holp dem share crop. Den I leaves. Dat de way with chillen, dey gives
you lots of trouble raisin' dem and den off dey goes. When my chillen am
young'uns dey's on my lap, and when dey's growed up, dey's on my heart.

"Us have de hard time share croppin'. Times was hard den and de niggers
didn't know much 'bout takin' care demselves. Course, dey better off
free, but dey have to larn. Us work hard and make 'nough to live on de
first year us free. Us raise cotton and veg'tables and when I's not
helpin' mammy I goes out and gits a li'l work here and yonder.

"I marries in Galveston, to dat old cuss, settin' right dere, William
Thomas am he name and I's stood for him ever since. Him am dock
wallopin' when I's marry to him. Sho', him am a dock walloper. If you
wants to talk big, you calls it stev'dore on de wharf.

"Dat cullud gen'man of mine allus brung in de bacon. We'uns am never
rich, but allus eats till de last few years. Us goes on de farm and it
hand and mouth livin', but us eats someway. After while, us come to Fort
Worth and he works as mortar man and cement mixer. We'uns live good till
de few years back, when him break down in de back and can't work no
more.

"It am ten chillun us raise but only five livin' now. One live at Stop
Six, right here in Fort Worth, and de others am all over de world. Us
don't know where dey am. Since Bill can't work no more, us git de
pension from de State and dat $26.00 de month for de two of us.

"Does I ever vote? Christ for 'mighty! No. Why yous talk dat
foolishment. Why for dis igno'mous old woman want to vote? No, sar, and
no tother womens ought to vote. Dat am for de mens to do. My Bill votes
couple times, when us in Galveston, and I tells you 'bout dat.

"Dey gives de eddication with a couple cups whiskey and de cheroot. When
de whiskey and de cheroot works on Bill's brain, dere am den de smart
nigger, and he votes 'telligent. I asks him what he votes for and him
say, 'I's vote for what am on de ticket.' 'What am on de ticket,' I
says. 'How does I know, I can't read.' Den I says, 'Better yous not
vote, 'cause maybe yous vote to put youself in de jailhouse.' So I guess
him think 'bout dat and him see what foolishment and troublement him
maybe git into, and him quit votin'. We'uns am lucky with de trouble.
Guess it 'cause we'uns knows how to 'have. When I's young my mammy larn
me how to 'have and where I 'long, so de patterrollers and de Ku Klux
never bother we'uns. Now, we'uns so old us can't git round, so us double
safe now.


[Illustration: _Philles Thomas_]


"Gosh for 'mighty! What yous want next? Now it for me to sing. Well,
yous can't put de bluff on dis old nigger, so here it am:

    "'Put on my long white robe,
    Put on de golden crown,
    Put on de golden slipper,
    And forever be Jesus' lamb.'

"But I likes 'nother song better, like dis:

    "'Herodias go down to de river one day,
    Want to know what John Baptist have to say,
    John spoke de words at risk of he life,
    Not lawful to marry yous brudder's wife.'

"Not dat am 'nough. If I's here much longer, yous have dis old woman
dancin'."




William M. Thomas


*William M. Thomas, 87, now residing at 514 Hayes St., Fort Worth,
Texas, was born a slave of Dr. Frank Thomas, in Lauderdale County, Miss.
William's father was sold when William was a baby and his mother mated
with another slave. It was seven years after they were freed that the
family left their master and moved onto a tract of land. William stayed
with them until he was twenty-four, then worked twelve years in
Galveston, as a stevedore. He farmed until 1910, then worked as a mortar
man at the Purina Mills in Fort Worth until 1931. He and his wife
receive a $13.00 monthly pension.*

"I knows 'zactly how old I is. Massa done give my mammy de statement. He
do dat for all he niggers when dey freed. I's borned May 17th, in 1850,
and dat make me eighty-eight next May. Dat's on Massa Doctor Frank
Thomas's plantation, over near Meridian, in Mississippi. Dere forty-four
slave families on he place and he own 'bout seven hunerd acres land, so
him have plenty pasture, wood and field land. De money crop was cotton,
of course.

"My mammy and sis was in de place and my step-pa. My pappy am sold and
took to Texas when I's so li'l I don't 'member him. After dat, mammy
done took another man.

"All de slaves live in quarters 'cept de house servants, and dey live in
servants' quarters, and dere's where I's de lucky nigger. My mammy am
cook for massa and I's round de kitchen what 'twas plenty of good eats.
And I plays with massa's two boys, 'twas Frank and Lawrence.

"I's so li'l 'fore surrender I never really works, 'cept to be de errand
boy. I fetches eggs and sich. Massa have lots of chickens and us fetch
in high as a thousand eggs in one day sometimes. Us have eggs to eat,
too. Massa Thamas am awful good and dere am never de holler 'bout
feedin'. I bet none dem niggers done live so good after dey free.

"Us have all de meat us want, mostest pork and beef and mutton. Dey
kills five hunderd hawgs when killin' time came, and make hams and bacon
and sausages. If yous ever ate sich ham and bacon what am made by
massa's butcher right dere on de place, you say dere never am sich. Dat
sausage, it make de mouf water to think 'bout it. 'Sides de meat, us
have cornbread and 'lasses and de rations ain't measure out, 'cept de
white flour on Sunday mornin'. All week de meals am cook in dat kitchen
and serve in de big shed, but each family cook for deyself on Sunday.

"Us go to church if us want, 'bout four miles off. Massa give anybody de
pass to go dere. Dere am no parties and sich, but old Jack saw on de
fiddle and us sing.

"Massa didn't whip, only once. Dat 'cause a nigger steal he fav'rite
pumpkin. He am savin' dat for to git de seed and it am big as de ten
gallon jug. De corn field am full of pumpkins, but dat nigger done took
massa's choice one. Dat pumpkin am so big, he have to tussle with it
'fore he git it to he cabin. It like stealin' a elephant, you can't hide
it in de watch pocket. Course, lots of niggers seed dat cullud gen'man
with dat pumpkin, and 'fore long massa knew it.

"Well, sar, it am de funny sight to see him punish dat nigger. First,
massa set him down on de ground front de quarters, where us all see him.
Den he make dat nigger set down and give him de big bowl pumpkin sauce
and make him eat it. Him eat and eat and git so full him can't hardly
swallow and massa say, 'Eat some more, it am awful good.' Dat nigger
try, but him can't eat no more. Massa give him de light breshin' and it
am funny to see, dat cullud gen'man with pumpkin smear on he face and
tears runnin' down he face. After dat, us chillen call him Massa Pumpkin
and massa never have no more trouble with stealin' he seed pumpkins.

"When war starts I's 'bout fifteen year old. 'Bout half mile from de
plantation am de crossroads and one go to New Orleans and one go to
Vicksburg. Dere am a 'Federate camp dere at de start, but after 'while
dey goes and de Yanks comes. Dere a battle near, and us hear de shootin'
but us have to stay on de place.

"I done slip off and see de camp, though. De Yanks puts up two big tents
and use dem for de hospital and de wounded am fetch dere. What I sees
and hears dere, I never forgits, and it done turn dis nigger 'gainst
war. Why can't dey settle dey 'sputes without killin'? Dey's moanin' and
cryin' and screamin' in dem tents.

"One day de Yanks come clean de crib of all de corn and de meat house of
all de meat. Massa am smart and fix it so dey don't find all de rations.
Him dig a big ditch in de woods and hide lots of rations.

"Us didn't know when freedom came. It a long time after dat de Yanks
come tell us, and it de same way on all de plantations round dere. De
Yanks come and make massa pay us all fifty cents de day. After dat massa
puts dem what wants to go on pieces of land and dey ain't charge for it
till seven year after. Den dey has to pay rent and part de crop, and for
de mules and tools all de time.

"I stays with my folks till I's twenty-four year old and den I's on my
way to Galveston and gits work as de stevedore. Dat am on de wharf and I
works dere twelve year. I votes dere two times. Some white folks done
come to us, and de boss, too, and gives us de ticket. It am all mark up.
Boss say us don't have to work de next day, and us to report at a place.
When us comes dere, 'twas a table with meat and bread and stuff for to
eat, and whiskey and cigars. Dey give us something to eat and a cup or
two of dat whiskey and puts de cigar in de mouth. Us am 'portant
niggers, ready to vote. With dat cup of whiskey in de stomack and dat
cigar in de mouth and de hat cock on side de head, us march to de votin'
place and does our duty. Fix up de way us was, us would vote to put us
back in slavery. And de nigger what didn't vote, after all dat, him am
in for de fixin'. I means he gits fixed. Dey pounds he head till him
won't forgit to do it right next time.

"But I gits to thinkin' how massa say when us leave him, 'Don't let no
white folks use you for to make trouble.' I figgers dat what am
happenin' with dat votin' business, and I quits votin' and goes to
farmin'. I 'lieve de cullud folks should vote, but not de igno'mous
niggers like us was den.


[Illustration: _William M. Thomas_]


I farms till 1910 and den comes to Fort Worth, and dey am buildin' de
Purina Mills Elevators on East 4th Street and I works dere at mortar
work. Den I works at cement on lots de big buildin's in dis city, till
'bout ten year ago, when it git too hard for me. I has de back misery.

"I gits married to Phillis Wilson when I's twenty-nine, in Galveston,
and us don't allushave lots, but us gits by and raises de family. Now us
have to live on de pension from de State, what am $13.00, and sometimes
us am awful short, tryin' to pay de rent and buy de rations and what
clothes us needs, but us am glad to git it. Ten chillen am what us
raises and five am dead and four am scattered and us don't know where,
and one live here.

""Ain't it diff'rent how peoples lives? Us used to travel with de ox and
now dey flies in de sky. Folks sings in New York and us sets right here
and hears dem. Shucks! De way things am gwine, I's all fussed up and
can't understand whether I's gwine or comin'."




Mary Thompson


*Mary Thompson was born a slave 87 years ago, in Denton, Miringo County,
Alabama. Her mother, Viney Askew, and father, Wesley Jones, belonged to
Green Askew, a Georgian. She was 15 when she was freed. Mary now lives
at 1104 East Avenue, Austin, Tex.*

"I was bo'n in Alabama and my mother was Viney Askew. She belonged to
Marster Green Askew. My father was Wesley Jones, 'cause he took his
marster's name.

"My mother was a good cook and she cooked for de marster. She had a
great big stove and she made salt-risin' bread, too. We and all de
slaves lived in cabins near de big house and some of de slaves would
have chillen by de marster.

"When we come home from de fields at night, de women cooked de food and
den dey was so tired dey jus' went to bed. We didn' have fun in de
evenin's, but on Christmas mornin' de marster give us eggnog and sich.
Den we'd sing but I don' 'member de songs now.

"De crops in Alabama would be cleared by July 4 and den we'd have
sev'ral days off, all de slaves. Dey'd give us pits of barbecue and pies
and cakes to eat.

"When we was sick de marster would sen' for de doctor and we made teas
outta herbs and sich. Alabama was full of chills and fevers in dem days
and we drunk catnip tea for fevers and blue and white sage. Calamus
root, looks like an onion, was good for de chillens' colic.

"My mistress' niece had a big plantation and she had a place whar she
had de slaves whopped. She had a reg'lar whoppin' post. My marster jes'
had a large cowhide whoop. Yes, I got a whoppin' more'n once. Sev'ral
times marster took hold my ears and bumped my head 'gainst de wall. But
gen'rally dey was good to me.

"We wasn't 'lowed no whiskey, 'less we was sick. De poor white folks was
good to us, better'n rich folks. Dey'd give us a quarter now'n den.

"I can 'member how de slaves was fattened like hawgs and den marched to
town and 'round and auctioned off like cattle. Some of 'em had done
somethin' mean and was sold off. Some of 'em brought more'n a thousand
dollars down in New Orleans.

"I knows of one slave who liked to run 'round at night. She was nuss to
marster's girl and she give it morphine to put it to sleep. She give de
baby girl so much morphine dat her body was full of it and she died. De
cullud folks got to talkin' too much and de baby was dug up and
'xamined. De slave nuss was put in jail and kep' there a long time and
den she was sold.

"Heap of de slaves would run away and go up north. Dey would try to find
'em by sendin' nigger houn's after 'em. Once de houn's caught a slave
and he kep' sayin', 'O, Lawd ... O, Lawd!'


[Illustration: _Mary Thompson_]


"After de war, when we was free, de slaves would go here and there and a
lot of 'em died. Dey'd git de black measles, go out in de woods and die.
Dey didn' know how to take care of demselves.

"I stayed at marster's house eight months, den hired out at ten dollars
a month. Dat was de fus' money I ever made and I didn' want to go to
school, 'cause I wanted to make dat money. Dat looked like big money to
me. I was proud to have it, 'cause I could git what I wanted. I cain't
read or write to this day.

"I was married to General Thompson, and he'd been a slave too, in
Alabama. Yes, General was his given name. I was 16 years old when I
married and a white preacher married us durin' a 4th of July
celebration. Yes, we had a big time and a good time.

"We come to Texas later and my husban' farmed on the Brazos. We had
eight chillen, and two of 'em is livin.' My husban' died and I buried
him, den I took up with a Horace Foster, and he was nothin' but a
gambler. I lived with him 'bout 8 years, but he never would marry me, so
I lef' him."




Penny Thompson


*Penny Thompson, 86, now living at 1100 E. 12th St., Fort Worth, Texas,
was born a slave to Calvin Ingram, in Coosa Co., Alabama. In 1867 Penny
was brought to Tyler, Texas, and several years later she married Ike
Thompson and moved to Fort Worth.*

"Do I 'member slavery days? Yes, suh! How could I forgit dem? For an old
person I has good 'collection. I's 10 year old when de war start and my
massa am Calvin Ingram. My mammy and pappy was a weddin' present to
Massa Ingram from his pappy. Mammy give birth to 15 chilluns, but I
never saw any of my brothers and sisters, 'cause they all born on Massa
Ingram's pappy's plantation 'fore he give my mammy to Massa Ingram.

"De plantation dat Massa Ingram have was 200 acres or mo'. Him own 'bout
20 grown-up slaves, and on dat place dey raises 'bout everything we eats
and wears, includin' de vinegar and de peach brandy. Everybody am
'signed to dey duties and my mammy am chief cook for de big house. I
he'ps her and feeds chickens, gits eggs and totes water.

"De treatmen' couldn't be better. Massa am de bestes' and de kindes'
fellow dat ever live. He am in Heaven, for sho', but de missy mus' be in
Hell, for she sho' was a debbil. Massa have de fight with her lots of
times 'bout de treatment of us, but he wouldn't let her 'buse us.

"We'uns was never hongry for food, 'cause we have lots of meat, chickens
and eggs and cornmeal and 'lasses and honey. De hams is smoked on de
place and dey am de hams, white man, dey am de hams! Den massa have a
big cellar jus' full of everything and I never forgit de big, brass key
what lock dat cellar. Dere was de jams and de jellies and de preserves,
and de massa give us somethin' of all of dat. Him makes de gran' peach
brandy and every mornin' we could have two fingers in de glass. 'Twas de
same at night. Dere was somethin' else was reg'lar every mornin' and
night and dat am de prayer. He calls all us together and says de
prayers. I often thinks of dat brandy and de prayers, two times every
day.

"As for de whuppin,' dere wasn't any on massa's place. Him have only one
nigger what am unruly and dat am Bill McClure, and a bigger thief never
lived.

"On de nex' plantation dey gives de whuppin' and we hears dem niggers
beller. On dat plantation dey trades and sells de niggers all de time
and de speculation wagon comes by often. Sometime it am awful to see de
babies sold from de mothers and de wife from de husban'. Sich bemoanin'
at some of dem sales, yous jus' can't 'magine.

"But on massa's place we has no tradin' of slaves and we'uns have pass
for go to church and parties and de dance. When de night for de party
come on our place, de yard am cleaned off and we makes sandwiches. One
time massa come to me and say, 'Jus' wait a minute, I nearly forgits de
mos' 'portant part,' and he give me a new pink dress. I's so happy I
cries for joy, and everybody says I looks like de Queen of Sheba.

"De other big time am de corn huskin' bee. Once a year all de neighbors
comes fust to one place den to de other. At de huskin's, dey gives de
prize when you finds a red ear. De prize am two fingers of dat peach
brandy. When dey gits de fus' one dey works a little harder, de second
still faster, and de third, Lawd-a-massy, how dem husks do fly! Dey
don't git drunk, 'cause you am lucky to find as much as three red ears
at one huskin'.

"We has de weddin's too, but no preacher or cer'mony. When a man sees a
girl him likes and de girl am willin', dey says dey wants a weddin'. De
womens cooks extra and dey gits de cedar boughs and wets dem and
sprinkles flour on dem and puts dem on de table. We sits at de table and
eats and sings 'ligious songs and after supper dey puts de broom on de
floor an de couple takes de hands and steps over de broom, and den dey
am put to bed.


[Illustration: _Penny Thompson_]


"We was never bother with de patter rollers, but I 'members a song 'bout
dem, like dis:

    "'Up de hill and down de hollow
    Patter rollers cotched nigger by de collar;
    Dat nigger run, dat nigger flew,
    Dat nigger tear his shirt in two.'

"In de war soldiers comes to massa's place and every time he feeds dem.
You hears de clippity clop of de hosses and dey is off de saddle 'fore
you gits to de door. Dey says, 'We wants de meal,' or maybe dey wants to
sleep. Massa's wife say, 'I's not goin' do nothin' for dem blue
bellies,' but massa make her fix de chicken. Dere was everything dere
but manners, 'cause dey have de pistols drawed.

"After freedom, mos' of us stays with massa, 'cause we don't know where
to go and we don't want to go, but 'fore long massa dies and dat was
mournin' time. After de death, we all leaves.

I marries Bill Thompson but he won't work so after 15 year I gits de
divorcement."




Albert Todd


*Albert Todd, 86 years old, was born a slave to Capt. Hudson, in
Russellville, Kentucky. His master was killed in the Civil War and he
then came to Texas in a covered wagon. His "Missus" kept him a slave for
three years after the War. He now lives with his wife, daughter and two
sons at 703 Center St., San Antonio, Texas.*

"I most suppose my memory is too jumpy, but I'll try to bring it 'long
from de time I was born. I don't know de year, but it was in
Russellville, Kentucky and my massa, Captain Hudson, had a fruit
orchard. My reg'lar work was protectin' my young missus, Nannie Hudson.
She had to walk five miles to and forth from school every day and I was
her protector. I was only 8 and she was 11. I sat on the steps until she
got through larnin' and then brung her home. She come to be grown and
married and died, but I allus loved her.

"When war comes, my massa goes and gets kilt and my missus got 'gusted
with the orchard and packs up in two covered wagons and heads crossland
to Texas. We finally gets to Lavernia and gets a farm and us worked
plenty hard.


[Illustration: _Albert Todd_]


"Our missus was good to us, but one white man neighbor got a new set of
niggers every year. He say if they didn't die, they wasn't any good work
left in them after they works for him a year. He allus cut off one they
ears, so if they run away he'd know 'em.

"My clothes was a long shirt, made out of a meal sack. That's all I wore
them days. I was a slave three year after the others was freed, 'cause I
didn't know nothin' 'bout bein' free. A Mrs. Gibbs got holt of me and
makes me her slave. She was a cruel old woman and she didn't have no
mercy on me. She give me one sausage and one biscuit in the mornin' and
nothin' else all day. One day she gone and I stole some biscuits, and
she comes back and says, 'Did you take them biscuits?' She tells me if I
tells de truth she won't punish me, but she knocks me down and beats me
till I not know nothin'. But after 'while her house burns and she burns
up in it.

"But 'fore that I was goin' to run away and I goes to the road and sits
down and then my sisters comes 'long and finds me and takes me to a
place where they was livin' on the ranch of a man name Widman. We works
for him a long time and then I is free from that Gibbs woman."




Aleck Trimble


*His skin was of an extremely dark chocolate color, his hair thin and
gray. A blue shirt was about his body while blue trousers enclosed his
nether limbs. His bare feet protruded as he sat on an old dilapidated
chair. Under his flat nose was a gray mustache, and one eye had
completely lost its vision. This small negro man was Aleck Trimble who
thoughtfully told the story of his life. [HW: Veth, Tex.]*

"I was bo'n in 1861. I warn't much of a chile when freedom come, but yet
dey's right smart of t'ings I kin 'member in slavery times."

"My pa name was Aleck Trimble and dat's my name, too. My ma was Ellen
Trimble and I was de onlies' son. I didn' hab no brudders. Ol' marster's
las' name was Alexander, but I dis'member his fus' name."

"I uster hafter do a li'l wuk 'roun' de place like pullin' up weeds and
drivin' de calfs. I 'member one time I was drivin' a calf up to de lot
and I saw a crazy man. He didn' try to do nuffin' to me. I jis' walk up
on him and he sittin' dere mumblin' and I know right den dere was
sump'n' wrong wid him. He didn' try to hu't me nor run atter me, but he
sho' scare me and I run away from him fas' as I kin."

"I warn't so glad when freedom come. I was a-farin' pretty well in de
kitchen. I didn' t'ink 'eber see better times dan what dem was, and I
ain't. I t'ought I was jis' as near hebben as I want to be. It didn'
look to me like dey coulder been no betterer dan what dey was."

"I uster had jis' all I want to eat. Us hab biscuit and syrup, and
plenty milk and butter. And dey give us all de collard greens and hog
jowls us could hol'."

"Dey uster had lots of cows and all de milk and butter anybody want. Dey
had a big bucket hangin' in de well. Dey put de butter in dat in de
summer time to keep it from meltin'. How dey kep' it from sp'ilin'? Why,
dey et it up, dat's how dey keep it from sp'ile."

"I neber see 'em do de slaves bad. Iffen dey did dey tek 'em off in de
woods somers where nobody see 'em."

"Sometime nigger traders come 'long de road wid a big drove of niggers.
I neber pay dat no min' though. It was jis' a drove of niggers to me."

"Dey gimme 'bout as good clo's as I got now. When I was doin' 'roun' de
yard at Marster' house I wo' a shu't wid pleats 'cross de bosom in
front."

"Dey gimme some britches befo' freedom come, and den I t'ought I's 'bout
as big as anybody. Dey gimme dem when I was big 'nuff to dribe de calfs
up from de lot. But I neber go in de fiel' to wuk."

"Atter freedom come I go to school to a white lady name' Mrs. Tunsten
she had a son name' Waddy. She teach de school at Shiloh and all de
white chillun and nigger chillun go to school in de same room. She teach
her own chillun in dat school on de Huntsville road. I 'member de stages
and t'ings gwine by. I t'ought she was a good teacher, but she whip me
half a day one time 'cause I didn' spell "gangrene." She whip me 'till I
learn how to spell it and I ain't neber forgit. I kin spell dat word
yit. I's satisfy she from de Nor'f. Dere was a ol' stage stan' dere by
de school house."

"I went to dat teacher and dat school t'ree or fo' year'. Atter she quit
teachin' dey was other teachers what come drappin' in and teachin' t'ree
or fo' months."

"My pa he uster wuk in de fiel' 'till freedom come. My ma she wuk in de
kitchen. Dat how come I git so much outer de kitchen to eat. Sometime
she hafter wuk in de fiel' too."

"Jis' like I say, I stay 'roun' de big house. I raise up wid de white
chillun 'till I was 25 or 30 year' ol'."

"I t'ink dey stay at de ol' place a year or mo' atter freedom. Den dey
'gin to drif' 'roun' to diff'rent place w'ere dey find wuk to do. I stay
wid de ol' folks and he'p s'po't (support) 'em wid what money I git for
de wuk what I doin'. My ma lef' my pa at de ol' plantation, and her and
me and a gal what was ol'er dan me, what was my sister, us move."

"De fus' wuk I done and de fus' money I mek was pickin' cotton for a
white man. De fus' money I git I buy me a ol' Webster Blue-back speller.
Lawd, I uster look at dat book sometime 'till dem A B C's all run
togedder seem like."

"Dat plantation was de Johnnie Murchison plantation. Us stay dere 'bout
five or six year'. Atter dat I lef' dere and went to wuk for cullud man
what was name' Sam Scott. I wuk 'roun' in de fiel' and go to mill when I
was on dat place."

"I 'member seein' de sojers. Dey was a big troop of 'em come marchin'
down de road. Dey was all of 'em dress' up in blue coats and some of 'em
had blue capes over dey shoulders. Dey had wagons and lots of sich
t'ings comin' 'long behin'."

"I can't tell you much 'bout de ol' marster 'cause I didn' see him eb'ry
day. Lots and lots of time I didn' hab no notion where he was."

"Dey was a large troop of cullud folks on de place. When dey want 'em
dey blow a bugle or ho'n or sump'n'."

"I git marry in Houston county. I don' 'member what year it was but it
was back in Cleveland's 'ministration. Den atter while she die and dat
lef' me a widower. Den 'bout 28 year' ago I marry Ollie Washington. I
was wukkin' for Scott befo' I marry Washington. Dat's my li'l 'dopted
gran'chile dere. You see dat t'ing 'roun' her neck? Dat's hoss hair roll
up in a clo'f. Dat to he'p when she teethin'. Dat good for stomach and
bowel trouble, too. Long as she wear dat she ain't gwine to hab no fever
in de head needer. I gwine to let her wear it 'till she finish cuttin'
her teef. I jis' put dat rag 'roun' it to keep it from stickin' her. You
kin see how healthy she is."

"Anudder t'ing what good for chillun when dey's teethin' is for to tek a
rabbit head and 'noint (anoint) dey gums good wid rabbit brains. Some of
de ol' folks wear a dime tie' 'roun' dey leg wid a hole in it for de
rheumatism."

"May-apple for a good purgative too, but you got to know how to use it.
Iffen you don' use it right though, it gwine to stir up your stomach and
mek you sick. And you better not drink no milk when you tek dat
May-apple root and you don' want to eat nuffin' needer. Dat's bitter'n
quinine."

"Co'se, sometime some of de slaves die on de plantation. I know dey have
home-mek coffin, but I ain't neber see 'em mekin' one. Sometime' when de
corpse a-layin' dere dead dey have a wake."

"Dem what wanted 'em had a li'l patch of groun' where dey plant garden
truck and veg'tables for deyself. Dey have half a day off on Sunday, and
den co'se, dey have Sunday. All de slaves have big holiday on Crismus."

"Dey lib in log houses. Moss and du't (dirt) was pack' all in 'tween de
logs and boards was nail' on over dat. Ol' marster he have a awful large
house buil' outer plank. It had a gallery to de front and back."

"Dey had a li'l house down de way dey had preachin' in. De white
preacher he do de preachin'. Seem to me dat soon play out."

"Dey had a ol' lady what ten' to de chillun when dey in de fiel' pickin'
cotton. Sometime she uster sing:

    'My Lord say dey's room enough,
    Room enough in hebben fer us all.'

fotch (fetch) 'em a whack on de head and say:

    'Come 'long wid dat row."

"Atter freedom come de darkies uster have a song what go like dis:

    'Come along
    Come along
    Make no delayin'
    Soon be so Uncle Sam give us
    all a farm.

    'Come from de way
    Come from de nation
    'Twon't be long 'till Uncle Sam
    give us all a farm.'

Atter while de Klu Kluxers git atter de cullud folks. Den dey mek a
song:

    'Run nigger run de Klu Klux git you.'

Lots of time dey come on Sunday. One place dere was a big plum thicket
'long de road and dey dodge in dere and ketch people. Lots of cullud
folks hafter pass by dere to git where dey gwine. In de day time dem Klu
Kluxes was jis' in dey common clo's but when dey come in de nights dey
did figger deyself wid dem high p'int hats and white t'ings wrap 'roun'
'em."

"I b'longs to de Baptis' Chu'ch. I reckon dat was de Baptis' chu'ch back
in dem days, but I don' 'member no baptisms back in slavery. I 'members
though that dey was a blin' cullud man what uster preach."

"I 'members dey was lots of smallpox one time. Dat was atter freedom
come, 'bout 50 year' ago. De people was sho' scare' of it, wusser'n if
it was a Winchester. When I fus' 'member 'bout dat smallpox dey was a
man had it and dey run him 'bout a mont' and bu'n him. If dey find out
you got de smallpox you jis' long gone, you better not go out nor in.
Dey put de food on de gate-pos'. If you don' git better in so many days
dey bu'n you and de house and eb'ryt'ing up."

"I uster farm 'till de boll weevil start in dis part of de country.
Atter dat sawmillin' and public works. Jis' go from one sawmill to
anudder. But I spen' my bes' days on de farm."

"When I was cut off dem sawmill and public works jobs I was done wo'
out. Dey orter stop' me fifteen years befo' dey did, 'cause den I
mightenter (might not have) been wo' out. Now I can't do nuffin'."

"I los' one of my eye 'bout seben year' ago. I have de fever and it
settle in my eye and jis' cook. Dat was when I had meningitis."

"I can't plow no mo'. I jis' live on my li'l bit of pension and dat
ain't nuttin'."




Reeves Tucker


*Reeves Tucker, 98 year old Negro farmer of Harrison Co., Texas, was
born in Bibb Co., Alabama, a slave of George Washington Tucker, Sr. When
Reeves was six his master died and Reeves was separated from his family
and brought to Texas by George Tucker, Jr. Reeves now lives with his
son, who owns a farm nine miles northwest of Marshall, Texas.*

"My father was Armistead Tucker and my mother Winnie Tucker and they's
both born slaves of Massa George Washington Tucker. He lived over in old
Alabama, between Selma and Maplesville. My brothers was Andy and John
and Peter and there was two girls, Anne and Dorcus, and we was all born
on Massa Tucker's plantation. My missy died 'fore I was born and my old
massa died when I was jest a shirt-tail boy and his chillen had a
dividement of his lands and mammy and all the chillen but me fell to the
daughter and pappy was give to the son. Pappy begs too hard for me to go
with him that fin'ly they lets me. I never seed my mammy after that,
bein' as how Missy Emogene stays in Alabama and us come to Texas.

"Massa George settles near Gilmer and he sho' have a big place with lots
of acres and a good house. He didn't 'low no beatin' on that place but
I've saw slaves on other places whopped till the blood run off them onto
the groun'. When they was cut loose from the tree or whippin' post they
falls over like dead. But our massa was good to us and give us lots to
eat and wear. We et pork meat and white flour jest like the white folks
and every woman have to spin so many yards cloth 'fore she go to bed, so
we allus had the clothes.

"I've saw lots of slaves bid off like stock and babies sold from their
mammy's breast. Some brung 'bout $1,500, owing to how strong they is.
Spec'lators used to ride all over the country near our place and buy up
niggers and I've saw as many as fifty in a gang, like convicts.


[Illustration: _Reeves Tucker_]


"But Massa George wouldn't sell and buy slaves and none of 'em ever run
off 'cept my pappy and one night he started to go 'cross a shirt of
woods to the neighbors and young massa was a pattyroller and tells pappy
to wait and go with him, but pappy hard headed as a mule and goes
hisself and the pattyrollers cotches him and nigh beats him to death.
Young massa was sho' mad as fire, 'cause he didn't want his niggers beat
up.

"Them circuit ridin' preachers come to the white church and tries to
make the white folks bring their slaves to preaching. Preacher say,
'Nigger have a soul to save same as us all.' Massa allus went to church
but I don't 'lieve it done him any good, 'cause while he there at
meetin' the niggers in the field stacking that fodder. He did give us
Christmas Day and a big dinner and 'cept for workin' the lights outten
us, gen'rally treated us decent and we had heap easier time than any
other slaves 'round.

"I 'member the war and Jeff Davis and Abe Lincoln was warfaring 'bout
freein' the niggers 'bout four year 'fore they fought. Massa Tucker jest
grunted when we was freed, 'cause he knowed the thing was up, and he
tells us if we'd stay and help the crop out he'd give us a horse and
saddle, but we didn't git nothin'. So I lef' him soon as the crop laid
by the year of freedom and then moved with pappy to a farm near
Hallsville and stays with him till I marries. I had seven chillen to be
growed and married and I farmed near Hallsville mos' my life, till I too
old. My son, Reeves after me, owns this farm and we's all right. Never
did have hard times after freedom, like some niggers, 'cause we just sot
down on the land."




Lou Turner


*Lou Turner, 89, was born at Rosedale, near Beaumont, Texas, on the
Richard West plantation. She has spent her entire life within three
miles of Beaumont, and now lives in her own little home, with her
daughter, Sarah.*

"I hears you been 'round to see me befo', but you ain't never gwine find
me to home. I sho' love to go 'round visitin'. You know dey say iffen
you treats the cat too good, you ain't never know where the cat is.

"I's gwine on seventeen year old when freedom come. I's born right here
near Beaumont, on the big road what they calls the Concord Road, in the
place what they calls Rosedale. I's a growed-up young lady befo' I ever
sees Beaumont. I's gwine on 89 year old now.

"Richard West, he's my massa and Mary Guidry she my missy. Dey used to
call her the 'Cattle King.' Dey have a big plantation and jes' a few
slaves. Dey raises my mammy since she eleven year old. Her name Maria
and she marry Sam Marble. He come from Miss'ippi.

"I stay up at the big house and missy fix my plate when she fix hers.
God bless her heart, she kind to me, I know now I's sassy to her but she
didn't pay me no 'tention 'cause I's li'l. I slep' on a trundle bed by
missy's side and I git so smart I allus smell my bed to see iffen dey
puts nice, clean sheets on mine like dey did on hers. Sometime I play
sick, but old missy a good doctor and she gimme beefoot oil and it so
nasty I quit playing off. She French and she so good doctor they send
for her to other folks houses.

"Old missy was real rich. I's taken her money out of de wardrobe ane
make tall playhouse out of gold and silver money. Iffen she have to buy
somethin' she have to come and borrow it from me. Us allus has to figger
how to take dat money out of de corners so de house won't fall down. I
cried and cried iffen she tored it up.

"She'd take me with her when she go to see her grandchillen in de French
settlement. Us come in buggy or hack and bring jelly and money and
things. I thought I's gwine to Heaven, 'cause I gits to play with li'l
chillen. Us play 'ring place', dat's draw a ring and hop 'round in it.
Us jump rope and swing. Dey have a hair rope swing with a smooth board
in it so it ain't scratch us behin'.

"Old missy so kind but what got 'way with me, I couldn't go to school. I
beg and beg, but she kep' sayin', 'Some day, some day,' and I ain't
never sit in a school in my life.

"Old massa didn't work 'em hard. He make 'en come in when the sun got
bad, 'cause he feared dey git sunstroke. He mighty good in early days,
but when he figger dey gwine loose he slaves he start bein' mean. He
split 'em and sold 'em, tryin' to make he money out of 'em.

"De house what the white folks live in was make out of logs and moss and
so was the quarters houses. Better'n New Orleans, dem quarters was. Us
slaves have de garden patch. The white folks raises hogs and kilt 'em by
the twenties. Dey smoke hams and shoulders and chittlin's and sich and
hang 'em up in the smokehouse. Us allus have plenty to eat and us have
good, strong clothes. Missy buy my dresses separate, though. She buy me
pretty stripe cotton dress.

"Bout the only work I ever done was help watch the geese and turkeys and
fill the quilts. I larn to card, too. Old missy never whip me much, she
jes' like to scare me. She whip me with big, tall straw she git out the
field or wet a towel and whip my legs. My old massa done a trick I never
forgit while I's warm. I's big gal 'bout sixteen year old and us all
'lone on the place. He tells me to crawl under the corncrib and git the
eggs. I knowed dey ain't nothin' dere but the nest egg, but I have to
go. When I can't find nothin' he pull me out backwards by the feet and
whip me. When old missy come home I ain't know no better'n to tell her
and she say she ought to kill him, but she sho' fix him, anyway. He say
she spile me and dat why he whip me.

"Old missy taken to preachin'. She was real good preacher. Dey have de
big hall down the center of the house where they have services. A
circuit rider come once a month and everybody stop workin' even if it
wasn't Sunday.


[Illustration: _Lou Turner_]


"When war was on us there wasn't no sojers 'round where I was, but dat
battle on Atchafalia shook all the dishes off the dresser and broke 'em
up. Jes' broke up all the fine Sunday and company dishes.

"After de trouble my mammy have gettin' me 'way from there when freedom
come, she gits me after all. Old missy have seven li'l nigger chillen
what belong to her slaves, but dey mammies and daddys come git 'em. I
didn't own my own mammy. I own my old missy and call her 'mama'. Us cry
and cry when us have to go with us mammy. I 'members how old missy rock
me in her arms and sing to me. She sing dat 'O, Susanna' and telt me a
story:

"'Dere a big, old brown bear what live in de woods and she have lots of
li'l cub bears and dey still nussin' at de breast. Old mama bear she out
huntin' one day and she come by de field where lots of darkies workin'
and dere on a pallet she see fat, li'l pickaninny baby. Mama bear she up
and stole dat li'l pickaninny baby and takes it home. It hongry but
after she git all de cub bears fed, dere ain't no milk left for de
nigger baby. Mama bear git so 'sasperated she say to her babies, 'Go
long, you go way and play.' Dan she feed de li'l pickaninny baby and dat
how she raise dat nigger baby.'

"Now, every time old missy come to dat place in de story, she start
laughin', 'cause I allus used to ask her.

"'How come dey didn't no hair grow on dat baby.'"




Irella Battle Walker


*Irella Battle Walker, 86, was born a slave at Craft's Prairie, Texas.
Her parents, Mesheck and Becky Battle, belonged to Mr. Battle, but were
sold while Irella was a baby to Tom Washington, of Travis County. Irella
learned her A B C's from an o1d slave, Jack James, although it was
against the rules. This was the only schooling she ever had. Irella
receives a monthly old age pension of eight dollars. She lives at 2902
Cole St., Austin, Texas.*

"My name was Irella Battle and I was borned on August 15th, in 1851,
down at Craft's Prairie, in Bastrop County. I was 86 years old last
August, and I'm blind in one eye.

"Mammy's name was Becky Battle and she was a field worker, and dat about
de most work she have to do, 'cept on rainy days. She had five girls and
one boy and I'm de youngest and de only livin' one now. Daddy was
Mesheck Battle and when I'm a baby in mammy's arms, us sold to Massa
Washington.

"Daddy had to do field work. I never knowed him do nothin' but farm. He
sho' make us behave and whop us if we didn't. Massa was purty good. De
massas dem times, some was good and some was bad, and about de most of
dem was bad. I had to he'p round de big house and dey purty good to me.
But when I still little I went to de fields. Dey give me a sack what de
slaves make to pick cotton in. Dey spin de thread and make cloth on de
loom and stitch it and make cotton sacks. Dey short for us chillen and
de older folks had a short one to pick in and a big sack to empty in. I
could pick about a hundred fifty pounds a day when I's twelve. Israel
Roberts could pick five hundred a day. Us never got no money for
pickin', only food and clothes and a place to stay at night. Old man
Jonas watched us chillen and kept us divin' for dat cotton all de day
long. Us wish him dead many a time.

"De plantation had a hoss-power gin and some days our rows of cotton
tooked us right to de gin house and we'd look up and watch de slave boys
settin' on de lever and drivin' dem hosses round and round.

"De cabins was log and mud and stick chimney. When one dem chimneys
catch fire us git on top and throw water on it.

"In summer us go barefoot, but dere shoemakers what make shoes for
winter. When a beef killed, de hide kept and cleaned and put in de
tannin' trough. When de leather ready, de shoes make in de little shoe
shop, and when dem shoes git dry dey hard as a rock. Daddy make us rub
tallow or fried grease meat or any other kind grease into dat hard shoe
leather, and it make dem soft, but when de dew and sun git on dem again
dey's hard again. Times de coyotes steal dem greased shoes and make off
with dem. Dat act'ly happen a lot of times.

"Old man Jack James work at day and have night school at night. He have
long boards for benches and let dem down by ropes from de rafters, and
have blue back spellers. He point to de letters with de long broom straw
and dat's how we larn our A B C's. I can read purty good, when my eyes
let me, but I can't write nothin'.

"If it rained we had to shuck and shell corn or pull weeds in de yard,
and it was a big one, too. De women spin thread for de looms, two of dem
and a spinnin' wheel in every cabin.

"Us have beds de men make and take wore out clothes and breeches and
piece dem and stuff with cotton for quilts. When it cold us keep fire
all night long. De plates am tin and a big gourd dipper to drink water
with. De men make dere own cedar water pails.

"De week's rations for a growed person run like three pounds bacon and a
peck cornmeal and some home-made 'lasses. No flour and no coffee, but us
parch bran or wheat and make coffee. Each night dey give a pint of sweet
milk. But de chillen all et in a special place in de kitchen.

"One mornin' Massa Washington call us all and he read from de big paper.
He say, 'You is free to live and free to die and free to go to de devil,
if you wants to.' He tell us if we gather he crops he'd pay us for it.
Den he turned and walked away and started cryin'. All de families stays
but one man. De highest price massa pay anybody was about $15.00, but
dat seem like a lot of money to folks what wasn't used to gittin' any
money at all.

"Finally my folks moved on a farm on Onion Creek, in Travis County, on
rented land from Nat Watters and Dr. Shears, and farm on de third and
fourth. We stays about six years and raises cotton and corn.

"But when I's twenty years old I marries Joe Walker and us move to
Bastrop County, add I stays dere till he dies in 1932. Us have eleven
chillen and nine of dem still livin'. I gits a pension, nine dollars de
month, and it sho' am a help now I's old and nearly blind."




John Walton


*John Walton, 87, was born August 15, 1849, a slave of Bill Walton, who
lived in Austin, Texas, until the Civil War. He then purchased a farm in
Robertson County, Texas. John and his wife, Missouri, own a little home
at 1008 Juniper St., Austin. Each receives an old age pension of $10.00
a month.*

"My name am John Walton, yes, suh, and I's born right here in Austin.
Dat on de 15th day of August, in 1849. I done had de papers on dat but
where dey is now I don't know. Pappy's named Gordon Walton and I 'member
he die while de war goin' on, or jes' befo'. I disremember. My mammy was
a small woman, named Mary.

"Massa Bill Walton owns all us, and he de brother of Buck Walton, and us
live in Austin till it said de Yankees comin'. Some southern folks here
in Austin was diggin' ground for a fort, old Fort MacGruder, jes' south
of Austin. So Massa Bill takes us all 'way from Austin and up to
Robertson County, 'cause he done figured de Yankees can't git up dere.

"I done field work up dere and even us kids had to pick 150 pounds
cotton a day, or git de whoppin'. Us puts de cotton in de white-oak
baskets and some dem hold more'n 100 pounds. It 'cordin' to de way you
stamps you cotton in. De wagon with de yoke of oxen standin' in de field
for to pour de cotton in and when it full, de oxen pulls dat wagon to de
hoss-power gin. Us gin'rally use 'bout 1,600 pounds cotton to make de
bale.

"Purty soon after Massa Walton opens he farm he die and Missus Walton
den marries a Dr. Richardson and he git de overseer what purty rough on
us. He want all us to stay right in line and chop 'long and keep up with
de lead man. If us didn't it am de bullwhip. He ride up and down and hit
us over de back if us don't do de job right. Sometimes he'd git off he
hoss and have two slaves hold one down and give him de bullwhip. He'd
give it to him, too.

"I helped break up de land and plant and chop cotton and a little of
everything. Jes' what had to be done at de time, I goes out and does it.
I run 'cross plenty snakes and one day one bit me right top de foot.
Dere plenty varmints, too.

"In de fall of de year us kill plenty hawgs and put up de gamblin' racks
and hang dat meat up for de night. Dere some big dogs what watched de
meat and one old dog, old Jefferson, was bigger'n any dog I ever seed.
He kilt many 'nother dog. One night a big panther try steal de hawg meat
and old Jeff cotch him and helt him till de men comes. De panther tore
Jeff up purty bad. Us heered dem panthers scream at night, and if you
didn't know, you'd think it a woman. I could tell de diff'rence, 'cause
de panther scream have de little growl at de end. If he half mile 'way,
you'd hear dat little whang.

"One night I goes out in de bottom with my dog. I was huntin' but I
don't like what I finds. A big panther follows me and old Nig, dat my
big, black bulldog, scart him 'way from me. I sho' run dat night, and I
never slip 'way no more at night.

"Massa's big house sot 'way from our cabins. Us have de big room where
de slaves' meals all cook and de fireplace 'bout four foot 'cross and
plenty ashes in de mornin' to make de ashcakes. For breakfast us have
meat and ashcakes and bran-coffee or sassafras tea. You could keep dem
dried sassafras roots de year 'round and dey jes' as strong. Us plowed
'em up in de field, 'cause dey growed wild.

"Us didn't have time for de playin' of games durin' de week, 'cause it
dark when us goes out and it dark when us comes back. Us sho' was tired.
At night dat overseer walk by our cabins and call out to us, to see if
us all inside. If us don't answer he come up and find out why, and he'd
find us, too.

"I larned to read and write a little jes' since freedom. Us used
Webster's old blue-back spellers and I has one in de house to dis day
and I wouldn't take nothing for it.

"The first year after freedom I farms with mammy and my stepdaddy. Pappy
done die. Us done purty good de first year and I keeps on farmin' most
my life. I marries Georgia Anne Harper in 1875 or 1876 in Limestone
County. Us have four chillen and three is livin'. I marries 'gain in
1882 to Missouri Fisher and us have eight chillen and six is livin'.

"Us gits 'long on what de state give us now, and it ain't so bad. Times
is diff'rent. I never done much but farm, so I don't know so much 'bout
everything what goes on."




Sol Walton


*Sol Walton, 88, was born in Mobile, Alabama, a slave of Sam Lampkin.
Sol and his father stayed on the Lampkin Plantation, then in
Mooringsport, Louisiana, until 1873, and farmed on shares. From 1876 to
1922 Sol worked in the T.& P. shops, in Marshall, Texas. Sol and his
wife are supported by odd jobs Sol secures about town and they receive
money from a son who is in a CCC camp.*

"I was knockin' round, a good-sized chap, way back yonder in Buchanan's
and Henry Clay's time. I was born in 1849, in Mobile, Alabama, and
belonged to Sam Lampkin. My father was bought by the Lampkins and he
allus kept the name of his first master, Walton. My mammy was a Alabama
Negro and her name was Martha, and I had four brothers and four sisters,
Robert, Jim, Richard, Alex, Anna, Dora, Isabella, Bettie.

"My master was Sam Lampkin and his wife was Missus Mary, and their first
plantation was in Alabama, but they moved to Mississippi when I was
'bout six, and we lived on Salt Water Creek. They had a big, frame house
and we lived in log quarters, slept on rough rail beds and had plenty to
eat, peas, pumpkins, rice and other truck we raised on the place, and
plenty of fish out of the creek.

"The first work I done in slavery was totin' water and dinner to the
field hands, in gourd buckets. We didn't have tin buckets then. The
hands worked from sun to sun, and if the overseer seed 'em slackin' up
he cussed 'em and sometimes whacked 'em with a bullwhip. I seed 'em
whipped till their shirt stuck to their back. I seed my mammy whipped
for shoutin' at white folks meetin'. Old massa stripped her to the waist
and whipped her with a bullwhip. Heaps of 'em was whipped jus' 'cause
they could be whipped. Some owners half fed their hands and then whipped
them for beggin' for grub.

"After our folks came in from the field they et supper and some went to
Salt Water Creek to cotch fish and crabs. They used to spin at night,
too. On Christmas Day massa allus give the slaves a little present,
mostly somethin' to wear, 'cause he goin' to git that anyhow.

"Massa never had but one white overseer. He got kilt fightin'. The hands
was burnin' logs and trash and the overseer knocked a old man down and
made some of the niggers hold him while he bullwhipped him. The old man
got up and knocked the overseer in the head with a big stick and then
took a ax and cut off his hands and feet. Massa said he didn't ever want
another white overseer and he made my cousin overlooker after that.

"The slaves had their own prayer meetin's and that's 'bout the biggest
pleasure they had. We'd slip off sometimes to dances and parties, but
the patterrollers come and run us home with hounds. The black and white
children all played together and there was 'bout sixty of us.

"The old folks told us ghost stories but I never seed a ghost but once,
after I was married. Me and some men was walkin' down the Shreveport
road and saw a big house all lit up and fiddlin' and dancin' goin' on
inside. But when we got close the music stops and the lights went out.
When we got on past a piece it lit up and the fiddlin' starts 'gain. I
wasn't scared, but we didn't hang round to see what made it do that way.

"Some of the cullud folks on our place could read and write. They larned
it theyselves. The white folks didn't larn 'em. All they larned 'em was
to work hard. But they took care of us when we was sick and old women
made lots of medicine. There was boneset tea and willow tea and shuck
tea and cottonseed tea for chills and fever and Jerusalum Oak for worms.


[Illustration: _Sol Walton_]


"Master left Mississippi for Texas 'bout time the war got goin' good,
with his fam'ly and sixty slaves. We'd been on the road three weeks when
a gang of Yankees come on us one day at dinner. The niggers scatters
like birds. 'Bout half of 'em never come back, but the rest of us come
on and settled seven miles southwest of Mooringsport, in Louisiana.
Young master went to the war after we got there and come home sev'ral
times. But they didn't talk the war 'mongst us cullud folks.

"Nothin' special happened the day they said we was free, 'cept some of
'em didn't stay ten minutes. Master told 'em if they'd stay he'd give
them the third and fourth. The ones who left wasn't promised nothin' and
didn't git nothin'. My folks stayed for 'most twenty years after
'mancipation, workin' on the halves.

"I left my folks in '73 and come to Jimmie D. Scott's place, in Texas,
'bout eight miles east of Marshall, and worked for $10.00 the month.
That's where I met Liza Montecue, who is my wife. She was born on the
Scott's place the same year I was born. We moved to Marshall in '76 and
I got a job in the railroad shops and worked till the big strike in
1922. I didn't belong to the strike but the strikers wouldn't let me
work. After they run me off my job, I never could get back on and had to
make a livin' at anythin' I could find till my boy got in the CCC camp.
I been married sixty-four years and raised eight children, and three of
'em lives here and works at anythin' they can find to make a dollar."




Ella Washington


*Ella Washington, 82, was born a slave of Dave Mann, in St. Mary's
Parish, Louisiana. When the slaves were freed in Louisiana Ella was
taken to Calvert, Texas, and put on the Barton plantation. Soon after
the civil war she came to Galveston, and lives with her daughter, who
supports herself and her mother by taking in washing.*

"You got to 'scuse how I looks, 'cause I been out in de back yard
helpin' my daughter with de washin'. She allus fuss at me 'cause I work
like dat, but I tells her jes' 'cause I is a old woman ain't no reason
why I got to act like one.

"I don't know for sho' jes' when I'm birthed, but my sister allus say
I's one year and six months older'n her and she say she's birthed 'bout
1857. Dey didn't make no record den like now. I thinks old massa, Dave
Mann, keep some kind record on us, but he been dead de long time.

"My mammy and pappy was name Meine, Car'line and Charles Meine. De
slaves used to take de massa's name and sometimes when dey sold dey drap
de old name and take de new massa's name. Dat how come it so hard to
keep up with dem.

"Massa Mann sho' nice but him and he missy die and Massa Jim Ross step
into dere shoes on de plantation. Us gits swamp den. When you git swamp
dat mean you got to live with a mean man. He sho' was mean, too.

"De plantation was big and 'bout a hundred slaves on it. Dey work dem
hard, too, sometimes till nine o'clock at night. A lot of dem run away
but dey sic de nigger dogs on dere trail and cotch dem. When dey cotch
dem dey whup dem. Dey put sticks in de ground and tie dere hands and
feet to dem. Some places dey strip dem naked and whip dem.

"Sometimes Massa Jim 'low us go to de Catholic Church at Marion. Dey
wouldn't 'low us to pray by ourself. But we sneaks off and have pot
prayin'. Two men carry de great big hog pot dey uses to scald hogs and
take it out in de woods and us stick de head in it and pray. All de
noise go in de pot and you couldn't hear it outside.

"Old massa fed us good, meal and syrup and meat 'nough to last. He give
us watermelons every Sunday. But Massa Jim didn't 'lieve in pamperin'
niggers, he say. He didn't give us much to eat and de houses leak 'cause
de walls rotten.

"One time he take de notion to sell us. He put my mother and me and
sister on de block up in Marion. Us all cryin' hard, 'cause us thunk us
gwine git sep'rate. Den I looks up sudden and right at my young miss,
Miss Mary. She so mad she pale like de ghost. She say, 'Ella, you git
'way from dat block and come over to me, and you too, Della.' Me and my
sister runs over dere to her and wrop ourself round her dress and hold
on with all our might. De massa come after us and Miss Mary say, 'What
you mean sellin' my slaves?' He say us slaves his and she say, do he
want to have to prove what he say. Den she start in and raise so much
sand he have to call mammy down off de block and take us back home.

"I heared everybody say a war goin' on and my uncle and cousin run 'way
to de head bureau, where de Yankees at. My mammy say it at Milligan,
Texas. Time dey ready for freedom in Louisiana, dey refugees us to
Texas, in de wagons. Us travel all day and half de night and sleep on de
ground. It ain't take us so long to git to Calvert, out dere in de
bottom of Texas, and dey puts us on de Barton plantation. We's diggin'
potatoes dere when de Yankees come up with two big wagons and make us
come out of de fields and free us. Dere wasn't no cel'bration 'bout it.
Massa say us can stay couple days till us 'cide what to do.

"Well, den somethin' funny happen dere. De slaves all drinks out an old
well. Dey'd drink water in de mornin' and dey'd have de cramps awful bad
'bout dinner time and in de evenin' dey's dead. Dey dies like flies, so
fast dey couldn't make de coffins for dem. Dey jes' sew dem up in sacks
and bury dem dat way. Some de slaves say massa put de poison in de well.
I don't know what kill dem but it sho' look funny.

"Mammy and me goes to Calvert and hires out, but 'fore long us come to
Galveston and pappy go back to Louisiana. If he ain't dead he still live
dere in St. Mary's Parish. I never seen him no more.

"I marries 'bout 1886, and stays right here in Galveston. I seen Wright
Cuney lots of times but I ain't never knowed him to talk to. I 'member
when dey say he be governor some day, but dey ain't gwine have no cullud
man governor. Course, he did git to congress."




Rosa Washington


*Rosa Washington is 90 years old and lives in her own little adobe house
at 3911 Manzana St., El Paso, Texas. She was born a slave of the Watson
family, on a large plantation seven miles from St. Joe, Louisiana. Her
parents came from Georgia. After the Civil War she left her former
owners, but later returned and was with them until they died. She came
to Texas in 1921, and her three children provide for her. Her son, Le
Roy, has been in the U.S. Emigration service in El Paso for 27 years.*

"My name's Rosa Washington and my husban' was Joe Washington. He's been
dead a long time. I was bo'n on a big plantation, white man's name Bill
Watson, wife Ann Watson, seven miles from St. Joe. Mama had four chillen
and I had seven. Marster had a fine house and plenty of slaves. I dunno
how many.

"'Fore we was free we was in the fiel' workin' and they come out and got
us. Everybody threw up their hands and started to run. The Yanks busted
open a sugar hogshead and give everybody all they wanted. Dey threw all
de milk away and dey carried our marster away by force and tuk him to
jail in Vicksburg. Our missus wept. When the Yankees got us, dey tuk u

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