{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_18912/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_18912","id":"gutenberg_18912","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18912","summary":null,"tags":["African Americans -- Biography","African Americans -- Folklore","Category: Biographies","Category: History - American","Enslaved persons -- South Carolina -- Biography","Enslaved persons -- South Carolina -- Social conditions","Slavery","Slavery -- South Carolina"],"text":"Produced by Janet Blenkinship and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by the\nLibrary of Congress, Manuscript Division)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSLAVE NARRATIVES\n\n_A Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with\nFormer Slaves_\n\nTYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT 1936-1938\nASSEMBLED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT WORK PROJECTS\nADMINISTRATION FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF\nCONGRESS\n\n\nWASHINGTON 1941\n\nVOLUME XIV\n\nSOUTH CAROLINA NARRATIVES\n\nPART 1\n\n\nPrepared by the Federal Writers' Project of the Works Progress\nAdministration for the State of South Carolina\n\n+-----------------------------------------------------+\n| TRANSCRIBER NOTES: |\n|To reflect the individual character of this document,|\n|inconsistencies in formatting have been retained. |\n| |\n|[HW: ] denotes a handwritten note. |\n+-----------------------------------------------------+\n\n\n\n\n\n INFORMANTS\n\n\n Abrams, M. E. 1\n\n Adams, Ezra 5\n\n Adams, Mary 9\n\n Adams, Victoria 10\n\n Adamson, Frank 13\n\n Andrews, Frances 17, 18\n\n Arthur, Pete 19\n\n\n Bacchus, Josephine 20\n\n Ballard, William 26\n\n Barber, Charley 29\n\n Barber, Ed 34\n\n Barber, Millie 38\n\n Bates, Anderson 42\n\n Bates, Millie 46\n\n Bees, Welcome 48\n\n Bell, Anne 51\n\n Bevis, Caroline 55\n\n Black, Maggie 57\n\n Bluford, Fordon 62\n\n Boulware, Samuel 65\n\n Boyd, John 70\n\n Bradley, Jane 74\n\n Brice, Andy 75\n\n Briggs, George 80, 89, 93\n\n Bristow, Josephine 98\n\n Broome, Anne 104\n\n Brown, Hagar 107, 112, 115\n\n Brown, Henry 118, 122\n\n Brown, John C. 127\n\n Brown, Mary Frances 131, 134\n\n Brown, Sara 137, 141\n\n Bryant, Margaret 143\n\n Burrell, Savilla 149\n\n Burton, C. B. 152\n\n Butler, George Ann 153\n\n Butler, Isaiah 155\n\n Butler, Solbert 161\n\n\n Cain, Granny 166, 168\n\n Caldwell, Laura 169\n\n Caldwell, Solomon 170\n\n Cameron, Nelson 172\n\n Campbell, Thomas 176\n\n Cannon, Sylvia 180, 187\n\n Caroline, Albert 197\n\n Chisolm, Silvia 199\n\n Chisolm, Tom 201\n\n Cleland, Maria 204\n\n Clifton, Peter 205\n\n Coleman, Henry 210\n\n Coleman, Rev. Tuff 216\n\n Collier, Louisa 218\n\n Collins, John 224\n\n Corry, Bouregard 227\n\n Craig, Caleb 229\n\n Cunningham, Dinah 234\n\n\n Daniels, Lucy 238\n\n Davenport, John N. 240\n\n Davenport, Moses 244\n\n Davis, Charlie 245\n\n Davis, Charlie 250\n\n Davis, Heddie 254\n\n Davis, Henry 260\n\n Davis, Jesse 263\n\n Davis, Lizzie 267, 288, 293\n\n Davis, Louisa 299\n\n Davis, Wallace 304, 306\n\n Davis, William Henry 308\n\n Dawkins, Elias 313\n\n Dill, Will 319\n\n Dixon, Thomas 324\n\n Dorroh, Isabella 326\n\n Downing, Laurence 329\n\n Dozier, Washington 330\n\n Duke, Alice 336\n\n Durant, Silva (Sylvia) 337, 342\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n From Field Notes.\n District No. 4.\n April 27, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n FOLK LORE: FOLK TALES (Negro).\n\n\n\"Marse Glenn had 64 slaves. On Sat'day night, de darkies would have a\nlittle fun on de side. A way off from de big house, down in de pastur'\ndar wuz about de bigges' gully what I is ebber seed. Dat wuz de place\nwhar us collected mos' ev'ry Sa'day night fer our lil' mite o' fun frum\nde white folks hearin'. Sometime it wuz so dark dat you could not see de\nfingers on yo' han' when you would raise it fo' your face. Dem wuz sho'\nschreechy nights; de schreechiest what I is ever witnessed, in all o' my\nborn natu'al days. Den of cose, dar wuz de moonlight nights when a darky\ncould see; den he see too much. De pastur' wuz big and de trees made\ndark spots in it on de brightest nights. All kind o' varmints tuck and\nhollered at ye as ye being gwine along to reach dat gully. Cose us would\ngo in droves sometime, and den us would go alone to de gully sometime.\nWhen us started together, look like us would git parted 'fo we reach de\ngully all together. One of us see som'tin and take to runnin'. Maybe de\nother darkies in de drove, de wouldn't see nothin' jes den. Dats zactly\nhow it is wid de spirits. De mout (might) sho de'self to you and not to\nme. De acts raal queer all de way round. Dey can take a notion to scare\nde daylights outtin you when you is wid a gang; or dey kin scare de\nwhole gang; den, on de other hand, dey kin sho de'self off to jes two or\nthree. It ain't never no knowin' as to how and when dem things is gwine\nto come in your path right fo your very eyes; specially when you is\npartakin' in some raal dark secret whar you is planned to act raal sof'\nand quiet like all de way through.\n\n\"Dem things bees light on dark nights; de shines de'self jes like dese\n'lectric lights does out dar in dat street ever' night, 'cept dey is a\nscaird waary light dat dey shines wid. On light nights, I is seed dem\nlook, furs dark like a tree shad'er; den dey gits raal scairy white.\nT'aint no use fer white folks to low dat it ain't no haints, an'\ngrievements dat follows ye all around, kaise I is done had to many\n'spriences wid dem. Den dare is dese young niggers what ain't fit to be\ncalled darkies, dat tries to ac' eddicated, and says dat it ain't any\nspe'rits dat walks de earth. When dey lows dat to me, I rolls my old\neyes at dem an' axes dem how comes dey runs so fas' through de woods at\nnight. Yes sirree, dem fool niggers sees dem jes as I does. Raaly de\nwhite folks doesn't have eyes fer sech as we darkies does; but dey bees\ndare jes de same.\n\n\"Never mindin' all o' dat, we n'used to steal our hog ever' sa'day night\nand take off to de gully whar us'd git him dressed and barbecued.\nNiggers has de mos'es fun at a barbecue dat dare is to be had. As none\no' our gang didn't have no 'ligion, us never felt no scruples bout not\ngettin de 'cue' ready fo' Sunday. Us'd git back to de big house along in\nde evenin' o' Sunday. Den Marse, he come out in de yard an' low whar wuz\nyou niggers dis mornin'. How come de chilluns had to do de work round\nhere. Us would tell some lie bout gwine to a church 'siety meetin'. But\nwe got raal scairt and mose 'cided dat de best plan wuz to do away wid\nde barbecue in de holler. Conjin 'Doc.' say dat he done put a spell on\nole Marse so dat he wuz 'blevin ev'y think dat us tole him bout Sa'day\nnight and Sunday morning. Dat give our minds 'lief; but it turned out\ndat in a few weeks de Marse come out from under de spell. Doc never\neven knowed nothin' bout it. Marse had done got to countin' his hogs\never' week. When he cotch us, us wuz all punished wid a hard long task.\nDat cured me o' believing in any conjuring an' charmin' but I still\nkno's dat dare is haints; kaise ever time you goes to dat gully at\nnight, up to dis very day, you ken hear hogs still gruntin' in it, but\nyou can't see nothing.\n\n\"After Marse Glenn tuck and died, all o' de white folks went off and\nlef' de plantation. Some mo' folks dat wuz not o' quality, come to live\ndare an' run de plantation. It wuz done freedom den. Wo'nt long fo dem\nfolks pull up and lef' raal onexpected like. I doesn't recollect what\ndey went by, fat is done slipped my mind; but I must 'av knowed. But dey\nlowed dat de house wuz to draffy and dat dey couldn't keep de smoke in\nde chimney an' dat de doo's would not stay shet. Also dey lowed dat\nfolks prowled aroun' in de yard in de night time a keepin' dem awake.\n\n\"Den Marse Glenn's boys put Mammy in de house to keep it fer 'em. But\nLawd God! Mammy said dat de furs night she stayed dare de haints nebber\nlet her git not narr'y mite o' sleep. Us all had lowed dat wuz de raal\nreason dem white folks lef out so fas'. When Mammy could not live in dat\nbig house whar she had stayed fer years, it won't no use fer nobody else\nto try. Mammy low dat it de Marse a lookin' fer his money what he done\ntuck and burried and de boys couldn't find no sign o' it. Atter dat, de\nsons tuck an' tacked a sign on de front gate, offering $200.00 to de\nman, white or black, dat would stay dar and fin' out whar dat money wuz\nburried. Our preacher, the Rev. Wallace, lowed dat he would stay dar and\nfind out whar dat money wuz from de spirits. He knowed dat dey wuz tryin\nto sho de spot what dat money wuz.\n\n\"He went to bed. A dog began running down dem steps; and a black cat run\nacross de room dat turned to white befo' it run into de wall. Den a pair\nof white horses come down de stairway a rattling chains fer harness.\nNext a woman dressed in white come in dat room. Brother Wallace up and\nlit out dat house and he never went back no mo'.\n\n\"Another preacher tried stayin' dar. He said he gwine to keep his head\nkivered plum up. Some'tin unkivered it and he seed a white goat a\ngrinnin' at him. But as he wuz a brave man and trus' de Lawd, he lowed,\n'What you want wid me nohow?' The goat said, 'what is you doin' here.\nRaise, I knows dat you ain't sleep.' De preacher say, 'I wants you to\ntell me what ole Marse don tuck and hid dat money?' De goat grin and\nlow, 'How come you don' look under your pillar, sometime?' Den he run\naway. De preacher hopped up and looked under de pillar, and dar wuz de\nmoney sho nuf. Peers like it wuz de one on de lef' end o' de back porch,\nbut I jes remembers 'bout dat.\"\n\nSource: Mrs. M. E. Abrams, Whitmire, S. C.; told her by old \"uncle\"\n\"Mad\" Griffin, Whitmire, (Col. 82 yrs.) Interviewer: Caldwell Sims,\nUnion, S. C. 2/25/37.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n Henry Grant\n Columbia, S. C.\n\n REFLECTIONS OF EZRA ADAMS\n EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD\n\n\nEzra Adams is incapable of self-support, owing to ill health. He is very\nwell taken care of by a niece, who lives on the Caughman land just off\nS. C. #6, and near Swansea, S. C.\n\n\"My mammy and pappy b'long to Marster Lawrence Adams, who had a big\nplantation in de eastern part of Lancaster County. He died four years\nafter de Civil War and is buried right dere on de old plantation, in de\nAdams family burying grounds. I was de oldest of de five chillun in our\nfamily. I 'members I was a right smart size plowboy, when freedom come.\nI think I must of been 'bout ten or eleven years old, then. Dere's one\nthing I does know; de Yankees didn't tech our plantation, when they come\nthrough South Carolina. Up in de northern part of de county they sho'\ndid destroy most all what folks had.\n\n\"You ain't gwine to believe dat de slaves on our plantation didn't stop\nworkin' for old marster, even when they was told dat they was free. Us\ndidn't want no more freedom than us was gittin' on our plantation\nalready. Us knowed too well dat us was well took care of, wid a plenty\nof vittles to eat and tight log and board houses to live in. De slaves,\nwhere I lived, knowed after de war dat they had abundance of dat\nsomethin' called freedom, what they could not wat, wear, and sleep in.\nYes, sir, they soon found out dat freedom ain't nothin', 'less you is\ngot somethin' to live on and a place to call home. Dis livin' on liberty\nis lak young folks livin' on love after they gits married. It just don't\nwork. No, sir, it las' so long and not a bit longer. Don't tell me! It\nsho' don't hold good when you has to work, or when you gits hongry. You\nknows dat poor white folks and niggers has got to work to live,\nregardless of liberty, love, and all them things. I believes a person\nloves more better, when they feels good. I knows from experience dat\npoor folks feels better when they has food in deir frame and a few dimes\nto jingle in deir pockets. I knows what it means to be a nigger, wid\nnothin'. Many times I had to turn every way I knowed to git a bite to\neat. I didn't care much 'bout clothes. What I needed in sich times was\nfood to keep my blood warm and gwine 'long.\n\n\"Boss, I don't want to think, and I knows I ain't gwine to say a word,\nnot a word of evil against deir dust lyin' over yonder in deir graves. I\nwas old enough to know what de passin' 'way of old marster and missus\nmeant to me. De very stream of lifeblood in me was dryin' up, it 'peared\nlak. When marster died, dat was my fust real sorrow. Three years later,\nmissus passed 'way, dat was de time of my second sorrow. Then, I 'minded\nmyself of a little tree out dere in de woods in November. Wid every\nsharp and cold wind of trouble dat blowed, more leaves of dat tree turnt\nloose and went to de ground, just lak they was tryin' to follow her. It\nseem lak, when she was gone, I was just lak dat tree wid all de leaves\ngone, naked and friendless. It took me a long time to git over all dat;\nsame way wid de little tree, it had to pass through winter and wait on\nspring to see life again.\n\n\"I has farmed 'most all my life and, if I was not so old, I would be\ndoin' dat same thing now. If a poor man wants to enjoy a little freedom,\nlet him go on de farm and work for hisself. It is sho' worth somethin'\nto be boss, and, on de farm you can be boss all you want to, 'less de\nman 'low his wife to hold dat 'portant post. A man wid a good wife, one\ndat pulls wid him, can see and feel some pleasure and experience some\nindependence. But, bless your soul, if he gits a woman what wants to be\nboth husband and wife, fare-you-well and good-bye, too, to all love,\npleasure, and independence; 'cause you sho' is gwine to ketch hell here\nand no mild climate whenever you goes 'way. A bad man is worse, but a\nbad woman is almost terrible.\n\n\"White man, dere is too many peoples in dese big towns and cities. Dere\nis more of them than dere is jobs to make a livin' wid. When some of\nthem find out dat they can't make a livin', they turns to mischief, de\neasy way they thinks, takin' widout pay or work, dat which b'longs to\nother people. If I understands right, de fust sin dat was committed in\nde world was de takin' of somethin' dat didn't b'long to de one what\ntook it. De gentleman what done dis was dat man Adam, back yonder in de\ngarden. If what Adam done back yonder would happen now, he would be\nguilty of crime. Dat's how 'ciety names sin. Well, what I got to say is\ndis: If de courts, now, would give out justice and punishment as quick\nas dat what de Good Master give to Adam, dere would be less crime in de\nland I believes. But I 'spose de courts would be better if they had de\nsame jurisdiction as de Master has. Yes, sir, they would be gwine some\nthen.\n\n\"I tells you, dis gittin' what don't b'long to you is de main cause of\ndese wars and troubles 'bout over dis world now. I hears de white folks\nsay dat them Japanese is doin' dis very thing today in fightin' them\nChinamens. Japan say dat China has done a terrible crime against them\nand de rest of de world, when it ain't nothin' but dat they wants\nsomethin' what don't belong to them, and dat somethin' is to git more\ncountry. I may be wrong, anyhow, dat is what I has heard.\n\n\"What does I think de colored people need most? If you please sir, I\nwant to say dis. I ain't got much learnin', 'cause dere was no schools\nhardly 'round where I was brung up, but I thinks dat good teachers and\nwork is what de colored race needs worser than anything else. If they\nhas learnin', they will be more ashame to commit crime, most of them\nwill be; and, if they has work to do, they ain't gwine to have time to\ndo so much wrong. Course dere is gwine to be black sheeps in most\nflocks, and it is gwine to take patience to git them out, but they will\ncome out, just as sho' as you is born.\n\n\"Is de colored people superstitious? Listen at dat. You makes me laugh.\nAll dat foolishness fust started wid de black man. De reason they is\nsuperstitious comes from nothin' but stomp-down ignorance. De white\nchillun has been nursed by colored women and they has told them stories\n'bout hants and sich lak. So de white chillun has growed up believin'\nsome of dat stuff 'til they natchally pass it on from generation to\ngeneration. Here we is, both white and colored, still believin' some of\nthem lies started back when de whites fust come to have de blacks 'round\nthem.\n\n\"If you wants to know what I thinks is de best vittles, I's gwine to be\nobliged to omit (admit) dat it is cabbage sprouts in de spring, and it\nis collard greens after frost has struck them. After de best vittles,\ndere come some more what is mighty tasty, and they is hoghead and\nchittlings wid 'tatoes and turnips. Did you see dat? Here I is talkin'\n'bout de joys of de appetite and water drapping from my mouth. I sho'\nmust be gittin' hongry. I lak to eat. I has been a good eater all my\nlife, but now I is gittin' so old dat 'cordin' to de scriptures, 'De\ngrinders cease 'cause they are few', and too, 'Those dat look out de\nwindows be darkened'. My old eyes and teeth is 'bout gone, and if they\ndoes go soon, they ain't gwine to beat dis old frame long, 'cause I is\ngwine to soon follow, I feels. I hope when I does go, I can be able to\nsay what dat great General Stonewall Jackson say when he got kilt in de\nCivil War, 'I is gwine to cross de river and rest under de shade of de\ntrees'.\"\n\n[~HW: Ezra Adams, Swansea (about 10m. south of Columbia)~]\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1.\n Folk Lore\n District No. 4.\n May 27, 1937.\n Edited by: J. J. Murray.\n\n EX-SLAVE STORIES\n\n\n\"Aunt\" Mary Adams was swinging easily back and forth in the porch swing\nas the writer stopped to speak to her. When questioned, she replied that\nshe and her mother were ex-slaves and had belonged to Dr. C. E. Fleming.\nShe was born in Columbia, but they were moved to Glenn Springs where her\nmother cooked for Dr. Fleming.\n\nShe remembers going with a white woman whose husband was in jail, to\ncarry him something to eat. She said that Mr. Jim Milster was in that\njail, but he lived to get out, and later kept a tin shop in Spartanburg.\n\n\"Yes sir, Dr. Fleming always kept enough for us Niggers to eat during\nthe war. He was good to us. You know he married Miss Dean. Do you know\nMrs. Lyles, Mrs. Simpson, Mr. Ed Fleming? Well, dey are my chilluns.\n\n\"Some man here told me one day that I was ninety years old, but I do not\nbelieve I am quite that old. I don't know how old I am, but I was\nwalking during slavery times. I can't work now, for my feet hurt me and\nmy fingers ain't straight.\"\n\nShe said all of her children were dead but two, that she knew of. She\nsaid that she had a room in that house and white people gave her\ndifferent things. As the writer told her good-bye, she said, \"Good-bye,\nand may the Lord bless you\".\n\n Source: \"Aunt\" Mary Adams, 363 S. Liberty Street, Spartanburg, S. C.\n Interviewer: F. S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n Everett R. Pierce\n Columbia, S. C.\n\n VICTORIA ADAMS\n EX-SLAVE 90 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"You ask me to tell you something 'bout myself and de slaves in slavery\ntimes? Well Missy, I was borned a slave, nigh on to ninety years ago,\nright down here at Cedar Creek, in Fairfield County.\n\n\"My massa's name was Samuel Black and missus was named Martha. She used\nto be Martha Kirkland befo' she married. There was five chillun in de\nfamily; they was: Alice, Manning, Sally, Kirkland, and de baby, Eugene.\nDe white folks live in a great big house up on a hill; it was right\npretty, too.\n\n\"You wants to know how large de plantation was I lived on? Well, I don't\nknow 'zackly but it was mighty large. There was forty of us slaves in\nall and it took all of us to keep de plantation goin'. De most of de\nniggers work in de field. They went to work as soon as it git light\nenough to see how to git 'round; then when twelve o'clock come, they all\nstops for dinner and don't go back to work 'til two. All of them work on\n'til it git almost dark. No ma'am, they ain't do much work at night\nafter they gits home.\n\n\"Massa Samuel ain't had no overseer, he look after his own plantation.\nMy old granddaddy help him a whole heap though. He was a good nigger and\nmassa trust him.\n\n\"After de crops was all gathered, de slaves still had plenty of work to\ndo. I stayed in de house wid de white folks. De most I had to do was to\nkeep de house clean up and nurse de chillun. I had a heap of pretty\nclothes to wear, 'cause my missus give me de old clothes and shoes dat\nMissy Sally throw 'way.\n\n\"De massa and missus was good to me but sometime I was so bad they had\nto whip me. I 'members she used to whip me every time she tell me to do\nsomething and I take too long to move 'long and do it. One time my\nmissus went off on a visit and left me at home. When she come back,\nSally told her that I put on a pair of Bubber's pants and scrub de floor\nwid them on. Missus told me it was a sin for me to put on a man's pants,\nand she whip me pretty bad. She say it's in de Bible dat: 'A man shall\nnot put on a woman's clothes, nor a woman put on a man's clothes'. I\nain't never see that in de Bible though, but from then 'til now, I ain't\nput on no more pants.\n\n\"De grown-up slaves was punished sometime too. When they didn't feel\nlike taking a whippin' they went off in de woods and stay 'til massa's\nhounds track them down; then they'd bring them out and whip them. They\nmight as well not run away. Some of them never come back a-tall, don't\nknow what become of them. We ain't had no jail for slaves; never ain't\nsee none in chains neither. There was a guard-house right in de town but\nus niggers never was carried to it. You ask me if I ever see a slave\nauctioned off? Yes ma'am, one time. I see a little girl 'bout ten years\nold sold to a soldier man. Dis soldier man was married and didn't had no\nchillun and he buy dis little girl to be company for his wife and to\nhelp her wid de house work.\n\n\"White folks never teach us to read nor write much. They learned us our\nA, B, C's, and teach us to read some in de testament. De reason they\nwouldn't teach us to read and write, was 'cause they was afraid de\nslaves would write their own pass and go over to a free county. One old\nnigger did learn enough to write his pass and got 'way wid it and went\nup North.\n\n\"Missus Martha sho' did look after de slaves good when they was sick. Us\nhad medicine made from herbs, leaves and roots; some of them was\ncat-nip, garlic root, tansy, and roots of burdock. De roots of burdock\nsoaked in whiskey was mighty good medicine. We dipped asafetida in\nturpentine and hung it 'round our necks to keep off disease.\n\n\"Befo' de Yankees come thru, our peoples had let loose a lot of our\nhosses and de hosses strayed over to de Yankee side, and de Yankee men\nrode de hosses back over to our plantation. De Yankees asked us if we\nwant to be free. I never say I did; I tell them I want to stay wid my\nmissus and they went on and let me alone. They 'stroyed most everything\nwe had 'cept a little vittles; took all de stock and take them wid them.\nThey burned all de buildings 'cept de one de massa and missus was livin'\nin.\n\n\"It wasn't long after de Yankees went thru dat our missus told us dat we\ndon't b'long to her and de massa no more. None of us left dat season. I\ngot married de next year and left her. I like being free more better.\nAny niggers what like slavery time better, is lazy people dat don't want\nto do nothing.\n\n\"I married Fredrick Adams; he used to b'long to Miss Tenny Graddick but\nafter he was freed he had to take another name. Mr. Jess Adams, a good\nfiddler dat my husband like to hang 'round, told him he could take his\nname if he wanted to and dats how he got de name of Adams. Us had four\nchillun; only one livin', dat Lula. She married John Entzminger and got\nseveral chillun. My gran'chillun a heap of comfort to me.\"\n\n Home Address:\n Colonial Heights,\n Columbia, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n FRANK ADAMSON\n EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"I 'members when you was barefoot at de bottom; now I see you a settin'\ndere, gittin' bare at de top, as bare as de palm of my hand.\n\n\"I's been 'possum huntin' wid your pappy, when he lived on de Wateree,\njust after de war. One night us got into tribulation, I tells you! 'Twas\n'bout midnight when de dogs make a tree. Your pappy climb up de tree,\ngit 'bout halfway up, heard sumpin' dat once you hears it you never\nforgits, and dats de rattlin' of de rattles on a rattle snake's tail. Us\nboth 'stinctly hear dat sound! What us do? Me on de ground, him up de\ntree, but where de snake? Dat was de misery, us didn't know. Dat snake\ngive us fair warnin' though! Marster Sam (dats your pa) 'low: 'Frank,\nease down on de ground; I'll just stay up here for a while.' I lay on\nthem leaves, skeered to make a russle. Your pa up de tree skeered to go\nup or down! Broad daylight didn't move us. Sun come up, he look all\n'round from his vantage up de tree, then come down, not 'til then, do I\ngits on my foots.\n\n\"Then I laugh and laugh and laugh, and ask Marster Sam how he felt.\nMarster Sam kinda frown and say: 'Damn I feels like hell! Git up dat\ntree! Don't you see dat 'possum up dere?' I say: 'But where de snake,\nMarster?' He say: 'Dat rattler done gone home, where me and you and dat\n'possum gonna be pretty soon!'\n\n\"I b'longs to de Peays. De father of them all was, Korshaw Peay. My\nmarster was his son, Nicholas; he was a fine man to just look at. My\nmistress was always tellin' him 'bout how fine and handsome-like he was.\nHe must of got use to it; howsomever, marster grin every time she talk\nlike dat.\n\n\"My pappy was bought from de Adamson peoples; they say they got him off\nde ship from Africa. He sho' was a man; he run all de other niggers 'way\nfrom my mammy and took up wid her widout askin' de marster. Her name was\nLavinia. When us got free, he 'sisted on Adamson was de name us would go\nby. He name was William Adamson. Yes sir! my brothers was: Justus,\nHillyard, and Donald, and my sisters was, Martha and Lizzettie.\n\n\"'Deed I did work befo' freedom. What I do? Hoed cotton, pick cotton,\n'tend to calves and slop de pigs, under de 'vision of de overseer. Who\nhe was? First one name Mr. Cary, he a good man. Another one Mr. Tim\nGladden, burn you up whenever he just take a notion to pop his whip. Us\nboys run 'round in our shirt tails. He lak to see if he could lift de\nshirt tail widout techin' de skin. Just as often as not, though, he tech\nde skin. Little boy holler and Marster Tim laugh.\n\n\"Us live in quarters. Our beds was nailed to de sides of de house. Most\nof de chillun slept on pallets on de floor. Got water from a big spring.\n\n\"De white folks 'tend to you all right. Us had two doctors, Doctor\nCarlisle and Doctor James.\n\n\"I see some money, but never own any then. Had plenty to eat: Meat,\nbread, milk, lye hominy, horse apples, turnips, collards, pumpkins, and\ndat kind of truck.\n\n\"Was marster rich? How come he wasn't? He brag his land was ten miles\nsquare and he had a thousand slaves. Them poor white folks looked up to\nhim lak God Almighty; they sho' did. They would have stuck their hands\nin de fire if he had of asked them to do it. He had a fish pond on top\nof de house and terraces wid strawberries, all over de place. See them\nbig rock columns down dere now? Dats all dats left of his grandness and\ngreatness. They done move de whippin' post dat was in de backyard. Yes\nsah, it was a 'cessity wid them niggers. It stood up and out to 'mind\nthem dat if they didn't please de master and de overseer, they'd hug dat\npost, and de lend of dat whip lash gwine to flip to de hide of dat back\nof their's.\n\n\"I ain't a complainin'. He was a good master, bestest in de land, but he\njust have to have a whippin' post, 'cause you'll find a whole passle of\nbad niggers when you gits a thousand of them in one flock.\n\n\"Screech owl holler? Women and men turn socks and stockings wrong side\nout quick, dat they did, do it now, myself. I's black as a crow but I's\ngot a white folks heart. Didn't ketch me foolin' 'round wid niggers in\nradical times. I's as close to white folks then as peas in a pod. Wore\nde red shirt and drunk a heap of brandy in Columbia, dat time us went\ndown to General Hampton into power. I 'clare I hollered so loud goin'\n'long in de procession, dat a nice white lady run out one of de houses\ndown dere in Columbia, give me two biscuits and a drum stick of chicken,\npatted me on de shoulder, and say: 'Thank God for all de big black men\ndat can holler for Governor Hampton as loud as dis one does.' Then I\nhollers some more for to please dat lady, though I had to take de half\nchawed chicken out dis old mouth, and she laugh 'bout dat 'til she\ncried. She did!\n\n\"Well, I'll be rockin' 'long balance of dese days, a hollerin' for Mr.\nRoosevelt, just as loud as I holler then for Hampton.\n\n\"My young marsters was: Austin, Tom, and Nicholas; they was all right\n'cept they tease you too hard maybe some time, and want to mix in wid de\n'fairs of slave 'musements.\n\n\"Now what make you ask dat? Did me ever do any courtin'? You knows I\ndid. Every he thing from a he king down to a bunty rooster gits cited\n'bout she things. I's lay wake many nights 'bout sich things. It's de\nnature of a he, to take after de she. They do say dat a he angel ain't\ngot dis to worry 'bout.\n\n\"I fust courted Martha Harrison. Us marry and jine de church. Us had\nnine chillun; seven of them livin'. A woman can't stand havin' chillun,\nlak a man. Carryin', sucklin', and 'tending to them wore her down, dat,\nwid de malaria of de Wateree brung her to her grave.\n\n\"I sorrow over her for weeks, maybe five months, then I got to thinking\nhow I'd pair up wid dis one and dat one and de other one. Took to\nshavin' again and gwine to Winnsboro every Saturday, and different\nchurches every Sunday. I hear a voice from de choir, one Sunday, dat\nmakes me sit up and take notice of de gal on de off side in front. Well\nsir! a spasm of fright fust hit me dat I might not git her, dat I was\ntoo old for de likes of her, and dat some no 'count nigger might be in\nde way. In a few minutes I come to myself. I rise right up, walked into\ndat choir, stand by her side, and wid dis voice of mine, dat always\n'tracts 'tention, jined in de hymn and out sung them all. It was easy\nfrom dat time on.\n\n\"I marry Kate at de close of dat revival. De day after de weddin', what\nyou reckon? Don't know? Well, after gittin' breakfas' she went to de\nfield, poke 'round her neck, basket on her head and picked two hundred\npounds of cotton. Dats de kind of woman she is.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1815-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n June 10, 1937\n Edited by: Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in Newberry County, S. C., near Belfast, about 1854. I was a\nslave of John Wallace. I was the only child, and when a small child, my\nmother was sold to Joe Liggins by my old master, Bob Adams. It is said\nthat the old brick house where the Wallaces lived was built by a\nEichleberger, but Dr. John Simpson lived there and sold it to Mr.\nWallace. In the attic was an old skeleton which the children thought\nbewitched the house. None of them would go upstairs by themselves. I\nsuppose old Dr. Simpson left it there. Sometimes later, it was taken out\nand buried. Marse Wallace had many slaves and kept them working, but he\nwas not a strict master.\n\n\"I married Allen Andrews after the war. He went to the war with his\nmaster. He was at Columbia with the Confederate troops when Sherman\nburnt the place. Some of them, my husband included, was captured and\ntaken to Richmond Va. They escaped and walked back home, but all but\nfive or six fell out or died.\n\n\"My young master, Editor Bill Wallace, a son of Marse John, was a\nsoldier. When he was sick at home, I fanned the flies from him with a\nhome-made fan of peacock feathers, sewed to a long cane.\n\n\"After the war, the 'bush-whackers', called Ku Klux, rode there.\nPreacher Pitts' brother was one. They went to negro houses and killed\nthe people. They wore caps over the head and eyes, but no long white\ngowns. An old muster ground was above there about three miles, near what\nis now Wadsworth school.\"\n\n Source: Frances Andrews (col. 83), Newberry, S. C\n Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, Newberry, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n Sept. 22, 1937\n Edited by: Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I live in a comfortable two-room cottage which my son owns. I can't do\nmuch work except a little washing and ironing. My grandchildren live\nwith me. My other children help me a little when I need it. I heard\nabout the 40 acres of land and a mule the ex-slaves would get after the\nwar, but I didn't pay any attention to it. They never got anything. I\nthink this was put out by the Yankees who didn't care about much 'cept\ngetting money for themselves.\n\n\"I come from the Indian Creek section of Newberry County. After about\n1880 when things got natural, some of the slaves from this section\nrented small one-horse farms and made their own money and living. Some\nwould rent small tracts of land on shares, giving the landlord one-half\nthe crop for use of the land.\n\n\"Everything is changed so much. I never learned to read and write and\nall I know is what I heard in old times. But I think the younger\ngeneration of negroes is different from what they used to be. They go\nwhere they want to and do what they want to and don't pay much attention\nto old folks anymore.\n\n\"My mother's mother come from Virginia and my mother's father was born\nand raised in this county. I don't remember anything about the Nat\nTurner Rebellion, and never heard anything about it. We never had any\nslave up-risings in our neighborhood.\"\n\n Source: Frances Andrews (83), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. 8/11/37.\n\n\n\n\n Spartanburg, S. C.\n District No. 4\n May 27, 1937.\n Edited by\n R. V. Williams\n [~HW: Lambrigh~]\n\n Folk Lore: Folk Tales (negro)\n\n\n\"I was 'bout nine year ole when de big war broke loose. My pa and ma\n'longed to de Scotts what libbed in Jonesville Township. When I got big\n'nough to work, I was gib to de youngest Scott boy. Soon atter dis,\nSherman come through Union County. No ma'm, I nebber seed Sherman but I\nseed some of his soldiers. Dat's de time I run off in de wood and not\nnarry a soul knowed whar I was till de dus' had done settled in de big\nroad.\n\n\"Every Sunday, Marse Scott sent us to church in one of his waggins.\nWhite folks rid to church in de buggy and Marse went on de big saddle\nhoss. 'Bout dis time, Marse Scott went to Columbia to git coffee and\nsugar. He stay mos' two weeks, kaize he drive two fine hosses to de\nbuggy 'long wid a long hind end to fetch things to and fro in. De roads\nwas real muddy and de hosses haf to res' ever night. Den in Columbia, he\nwould have a little 'joyment befo' he come back home.\"\n\nSource: Miss Dorothy Lambright, W. Main St., Union, S. C. (Story told\nher by \"Uncle Peter\" Arthur.) Information by Caldwell Sims, Union, S.\nC.\n\n\n\n\n Code No.\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, January 4, 1938\n No. of Words ----\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n JOSEPHINE BACCHUS\n Ex-Slave, 75-80 Years\n\n\n\"No, my mercy God, I don' know not one thought to speak to you bout.\nSeems like, I does know your face, but I been so sick all de year dat I\ncan' hardly remember nothin. Yes, sweetheart, I sho caught on to what\nyou want. Oh, I wishes I did know somethin bout dat old time war cause I\ntell you, if I been know anything, I would sho pour it out to you. I got\nburn out here de other day en I ain' got near a thing left me, but a\npair of stockings en dat old coat dere on de bed. Dat how-come I stayin\nhere wid Miss Celia. My husband, he dead en she took me in over here for\nde present. No'um, I haven't never had a nine months child. Reckon dat\nwhat ailin me now. Bein dat I never had no mother to care for me en give\nme a good attention like, I caught so much of cold dat I ain' never been\nsafe in de family way. Yes, mam, I had my leg broke plenty times, but I\nain' never been able to jump de time. Lord, I got a misery in my back\ndere. I hope it ain' de pneumonias.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, I couldn' tell you nothin bout my mother cause I never\ndidn' know nothin bout my mother. My Jesus, my brother tell bout when\ndey had my mother layin out on de coolin board, I went in de room whe'\nshe was en axed her for somethin to eat en pushed her head dat way. You\nknow, I wouldn' touch my hand to do nothin like dat, but I never know.\nDat it, de coolin board, dat what dey used to have to lay all de dead\npeople on, but dis day en time, de undertaker takes dem en fixes dem up\nright nice, I say. I tellin you, I ain' had no sense since I lost my\npeople. Sometimes, I axes de Lord what he keepin me here for anyhow.\nYes, mam, dat does come to me often times in de night. Oh, it don' look\nlike I gwine ever get no better in dis life en if I don', I just prays\nto God to be saved. Yes, Lord, I prays to be lifted to a restful home.\"\n\n\"Just like as I been hear talk, some of de people fare good in slavery\ntime en some of dem fare rough. Dat been accordin to de kind of task\nboss dey come up under. Now de poor colored people in slavery time, dey\ngive dem very little rest en would whip some of dem most to death.\nWouldn' none of dem daresen to go from one plantation to another widout\ndey had a furlough from dey boss. Yes, mam, if dey been catch you comin\nback widout dat walkin paper de boss had give you, great Jeruseleum, you\nwould sho catch de devil next mornin. My blessed a mercy, hear talk dey\nspill de poor nigger's blood awful much in slavery time. Hear heap of\ndem was free long time fore dey been know it cause de white folks, dey\nwanted to keep dem in bondage. Oh, my Lord, dey would cut dem so hard\ntill dey just slash de flesh right off dem. Yes, mam, dey call dat thing\ndey been whip dem wid de cat o' nine tail. No, darlin, I hear talk it\nbeen made out of pretty leather plaited most all de way en den all dat\npart down to de bottom, dey just left it loose to do de cuttin wid. Yes,\nhoney, dem kind of whips was made out of pretty leather like one of dese\nhorse whips. Yes, mam, dat been how it was in slavery time.\"\n\n\"Yankees! Oh, I hear folks speak bout de Yankees plunderin through de\ncountry plenty times. Hear bout de Yankees gwine all bout stealin white\npeople silver. Say, everywhe' dey went en found white folks wid silver,\ndey would just clean de place up. Dat de blessed truth, too, cause dat\nexactly what I hear bout dem.\"\n\n\"Lord, pray Jesus, de white people sho been mighty proud to see dey\nniggers spreadin out in dem days, so dey tell me. Yes, mam, dey was glad\nto have a heap of colored people bout dem cause white folks couldn' work\nden no more den dey can work dese days like de colored people can.\nReckon dey love to have dey niggers back yonder just like dey loves to\nhave dem dese days to do what dey ain' been cut out to do. You see, dey\nwould have two or three women on de plantation dat was good breeders en\ndey would have chillun pretty regular fore freedom come here. You know,\nsome people does be right fast in catchin chillun. Yes'um, dey must been\nbless wid a pile of dem, I say, en every colored person used to follow\nup de same name as dey white folks been hear to.\"\n\n\"No'um, I never didn' go to none of dem cornshuckin en fodder pullin en\nall dem kind of thing. Reckon while dey was at de cornshuckin, I must\nbeen somewhe' huntin somethin to eat. Den dem kind of task was left to\nde men folks de most of de time cause it been so hot, dey was force to\nstrip to do dat sort of a job.\"\n\n\"Lord, I sho remembers dat earth shake good as anything. When it come on\nme, I was settin down wid my foots in a tub of water. Yes, my Lord, I\nbeen had a age on me in de shake. I remember, dere been such a shakin\ndat evenin, it made all de people feel mighty queer like. It just come\nin a tremble en first thing I know, I felt de difference in de crack of\nde house. I run to my sister Jessie cause she had been live in New York\nen she was well acquainted wid dat kind of gwine on. She say, 'Josie,\ndis ain' nothin but dem shake I been tellin you bout, but dis de first\ntime it come here en you better be a prayin.' En, honey, everything\nwhite en colored was emptied out of doors dat night. Lord, dey was\nscared. Great Jeruseleum! De people was scared everywhe'. Didn' nobody\nknow what to make of it. I tellin you, I betcha I was 30 years old in de\nshake.\"\n\n\"Now, I guess time you get done gettin up all dem memorandums, you gwine\nhave a pile. I tell you, if you keep on, you sho gwine have a bale cause\ndere a lot of slavery people is spring up till now. I ought to could\nfetch back more to speak to you bout, but just like I been tell you, I\nwasn' never cared for by a mother en I is caught on to a heap of\nroughness just on account dat I ain' never had a mother to have a care\nfor me.\"\n\n\"Oh, de people never didn' put much faith to de doctors in dem days.\nMostly, dey would use de herbs in de fields for dey medicine. Dere two\nherbs, I hear talk of. Dey was black snake root en Sampson snake root.\nSay, if a person never had a good appetite, dey would boil some of dat\nstuff en mix it wid a little whiskey en rock candy en dat would sho give\ndem a sharp appetite. See, it natural cause if you take a tablespoon of\ndat bitter medicine three times a day like a person tell you, it bound\nto swell your appetite. Yes, mam, I know dat a mighty good mixture.\"\n\n\"Oh, my Lord, child, de people was sho wiser in olden times den what dey\nbe now. Dey been have all kind of signs to forecast de times wid en dey\nbeen mighty true to de word, too. Say, when you hear a cow low en cry so\nmournful like, it ain' gwine be long fore you hear tell of a death.\"\n\n\"Den dere one bout de rain. Say, sometimes de old rain crow stays in de\nair en hollers en if you don' look right sharp, it gwine rain soon. Call\nhim de rain crow. He hollers mostly like dis, 'Goo-oop, goo-oop.' Like\ndat.\"\n\n\"De people used to have a bird for cold weather, too. Folks say, 'Don'\nyou hear dat cold bird? Look out, it gwine be cold tomorrow.' De cold\nbird, he a brown bird. If you can see him, he a fine lookin bird, too.\nYes'um, right large en strong lookin, but don' nobody hardly ever see\nhim dese days.\"\n\n\"En I reckon you hear talk bout dis one. Say, not to wash on de first\nday of de New Year cause if you do, you will wash some of your family\nout de pot. Say, somebody will sho die. Dat right, too. Den if possible,\nmust boil some old peas on de first day of de New Year en must cook some\nhog jowl in de pot wid dem. Must eat some of it, but don' be obliged to\neat it all. En ought to have everything clean up nicely so as to keep\nclean all de year. Say, must always put de wash out on de line to be\nsure de day fore New Years en have all your garments clean.\"\n\n\"What my ideas bout de young folks dese days? Well, dey young folks en\ndey ain' young folks, I say. Cose I don' bother up wid dem none, but I\nthink wid my own weak judgment, dey quite different from when I come\nalong. Folks is awful funny dis day en time to my notion. Don' care what\npeople see dem do no time. I sho think dey worser den what dey used to\nbe. De way I say dey worser, I used to have to be back at such en such a\ntime, if I went off, but now dey go anytime dey want to en dey comes\nback anytime dey want to. I sho think dey worser. De fact of it, I know\ndey worser.\"\n\n Source: Josephine Bacchus, colored, age 75-80, Marion, S. C.\n Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Dec., 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Folklore\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n June 14, 1937\n Edited by: Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born near Winnsboro, S. C., Fairfield County. I was twelve years\nold the year the Confederate war started. My father was John Ballard and\nmy mother was Sallie Ballard. I had several brothers and sisters. We\nbelonged to Jim Aiken, a large landowner at Winnsboro. He owned land on\nwhich the town was built. He had seven plantations. He was good to us\nand give us plenty to eat, and good quarters to live in. His mistress\nwas good, too; but one of his sons, Dr. Aiken, whipped some of de\nniggers, lots. One time he whipped a slave for stealing. Some of his\nland was around four churches in Winnsboro.\n\n\"We was allowed three pounds o' meat, one quart o' molasses, grits and\nother things each week--plenty for us to eat.\n\n\"When freedom come, he told us we was free, and if we wanted to stay on\nwith him, he would do the best he could for us. Most of us stayed, and\nafter a few months, he paid wages. After eight months, some went to\nother places to work.\n\n\"The master's wife died and he married a daughter of Robert Gillam and\nmoved to Greenville, S. C.\n\n\"The master always had a very big garden with plenty of vegetables. He\nhad fifty hogs, and I helped mind the hogs. He didn't raise much cotton,\nbut raised lots of wheat and corn. He made his own meal and flour from\nthe mill on the creek; made home-made clothes with cards and spinning\nwheels.\n\n\"They cooked in wide chimneys in a kitchen which was away off from the\nbig house. They used pots and skillets to cook with. The hands got\ntheir rations every Monday night. They got their clothes to wear which\nthey made on old spinning wheels, and wove them themselves.\n\n\"The master had his own tanyard and tanned his leather and made shoes\nfor his hands.\n\n\"He had several overseers, white men, and some Negro foremen. They\nsometimes whipped the slaves, that is the overseers. Once a nigger\nwhipped the overseer and had to run away in the woods and live so he\nwouldn't get caught. The nigger foremen looked after a set of slaves on\nany special work. They never worked at night unless it was to bring in\nfodder or hay when it looked like rain was coming. On rainy days, we\nshucked corn and cleaned up around the place.\n\n\"We had old brick ovens, lots of 'em. Some was used to make molasses\nfrom our own sugar cane we raised.\n\n\"The master had a 'sick-house' where he took sick slaves for treatment,\nand kept a drug store there. They didn't use old-time cures much, like\nherbs and barks, except sassafras root tea for the blood.\n\n\"We didn't learn to read and write, but some learned after the war.\n\n\"My father run the blacksmith shop for the master on the place. I worked\naround the place. The patrollers were there and we had to have a pass to\nget out any. The nigger children sometimes played out in the road and\nwere chased by patrollers. The children would run into the master's\nplace and the patrollers couldn't get them 'cause the master wouldn't\nlet them. We had no churches for slaves, but went to the white church\nand set in the gallery. After freedom, niggers built 'brush harbors' on\nthe place.\n\n\"Slaves carried news from one plantation to another by riding mules or\nhorses. They had to be in quarters at night. I remember my mother rode\nside-saddle one Saturday night. I reckon she had a pass to go; she come\nback without being bothered.\n\n\"Some games children played was, hiding switches, marbles, and maybe\nothers. Later on, some of de nigger boys started playing cards and got\nto gambling; some went to de woods to gamble.\n\n\"The old cotton gins on de farms were made of wooden screws, and it took\nall day to gin four bales o' cotton.\n\n\"I was one of the first trustees that helped build the first colored\nfolks' church in the town of Greenwood. I am the only one now living. I\nmarried Alice Robinson, and had five sons and one daughter, and have\nfive or six grandchildren.\n\n\"Abraham Lincoln, I think, was a good man; had a big reputation. Couldn't\ntell much about Jefferson Davis. Booker T. Washington--Everybody\nthinks he is a great man for the colored race.\n\n\"Of course I think slavery was bad. We is free now and better off to\nwork. I think anybody who is any count can work and live by himself.\n\n\"I joined de church when I was 17 years old, because a big preaching was\ngoing on after freedom for the colored people.\n\n\"I think everybody should join the church and do right; can't get\nanywhere without it, and do good.\"\n\n Source: William Ballard (88), Greenwood, S. C.\n Interviewed by: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (6/10/37)\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n CHARLEY BARBER\n EX-SLAVE 81 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nCharley Barber lives in a shanty kind of house, situated on a plot of\nground containing two acres all his own. It is a mile and a half\nsoutheast of Winnsboro, S. C. He lives with an anaemic daughter, Maggie,\nwhose chief interests are a number of cats, about the premises, and a\nbrindled, crumple-horned cow that she ties out to graze every morning\nand milks at evening.\n\nCharley is squat of figure, short neck, popeyed, and has white hair. He\ntills the two acres and produces garden truck that he finds a sale for\namong the employees of the Winnsboro mills, just across the railroad\nfrom his home. He likes to talk, and pricks up his ears,(so to speak),\nwhenever anything is related as having occurred in the past. He will\nimportune those present to hear his version of the event unusual.\n\n\"Well sah, dis is a pleasure to have you call 'pon me, howsomever it be\nunexpected dis mornin'. Shoo! (driving the chickens out of the house)\nShoo! Git out of here and go scratch a livin' for them chickens, dat's\nfollowin' you yet, and you won't wean and git to layin' again. Fust\nthing you know you'll be spoilin' de floor, when us is got company dis\nvery minute. Scat! Maggie; git them cats out de chairs long 'nough for\nMr. Wood to set in one whilst he's come to see me dis mornin'.\n\n\"And dat's it? You wants me to talk over de days dat am gone? How dis\ncome 'bout and how dat come 'bout, from de day I was born, to dis very\nhour? Let's light, up our smokestacks befo' us begin. Maybe you wants a\ndrink of, water. Maggie, fetch de water here!\n\n\"How old you think I is, sixty-five? My goodness! Do you hear dat\nMaggie? (Rubbing his hands; his eyes shining with pleasure) Take another\nlook and make another guess. Seventy-five? You is growin' warm but\nyou'll have to come again!\n\n\"Bless your soul Marse Wood, you know what old Mudder Shifton say? She\n'low dat: 'In de year 1881, de world to an end will surely come'. I was\ntwenty-five years old when all de niggers and most of de white folks was\nbelievin' dat old lady and lookin' for de world to come to an end in\n1881. Dat was de year dat I jined de church, 'cause I wanted to make\nsure dat if de end did come, I'd be caught up in dat rapture dat de\nwhite Methodist preacher was preachin' 'bout and explainin' to my\nmarster and mistress at deir house on de piazza dat year.\n\n\"I is eighty-one years old. I was born up on de Wateree River, close to\nGreat Falls. My marster was Ozmond Barber. My mistress was name Miss\nElizabeth; her de wife of Marse Ozmond. My pappy was name Jacob. My\nmammy went by de name of Jemima. They both come from Africa where they\nwas born. They was 'ticed on a ship, fetch 'cross de ocean to Virginny,\nfetch to Winnsboro by a slave drover, and sold to my marster's father.\nDat what they tell me. When they was sailin' over, dere was five or six\nhundred others all together down under de first deck of de ship, where\nthey was locked in. They never did talk lak de other slaves, could just'\nsay a few words, use deir hands, and make signs. They want deir\ncollards, turnips, and deir 'tators, raw. They lak sweet milk so much\nthey steal it.\n\n\"Pappy care-nothin' 'bout clothes and wouldn't wear shoes in de winter\ntime or any time. It was 'ginst de law to bring them over here when they\ndid, I learn since. But what is de law now and what was de law then,\nwhen bright shiny money was in sight? Money make de automobile go. Money\nmake de train go. Money make de mare go, and at dat time I 'spect money\nmake de ships go. Yes sir, they, my pappy and mammy, was just smuggled\nin dis part of de world, I bet you!\n\n\"War come on, my marster went out as a captain of de Horse Marines. A\ntune was much sung by de white folks on de place and took wid de\nniggers. It went lak dis:\n\n 'I'm Captain Jenks of de Horse Marines\n I feed my horse on corn and beans.\n Oh! I'm Captain Jenks of de Horse Marines\n And captain in de army!'\"\n\n\"When de Yankees come they seem to have special vengeance for my white\nfolks. They took everything they could carry off and burnt everything\nthey couldn't carry off.\n\n\"Mistress and de chillun have to go to Chester to git a place to sleep\nand eat, wid kinfolks. De niggers just lay 'round de place 'til master\nrode in, after de war, on a horse; him have money and friends and git\nthings goin' agin. I stay on dere 'til '76. Then I come to Winnsboro and\ngit a job as section hand laborer on de railroad. Out of de fust\nmoney,--(I git paid off de pay train then; company run a special pay\ntrain out of Columbia to Charlotte. They stop at every station and pay\nde hands off at de rear end of de train in cash). Well, as I was a\nsayin': Out de fust money, I buys me a red shirt and dat November I\nvotes and de fust vote I put in de box was for Governor Wade Hampton.\nDat was de fust big thing I done.\n\n\"De nex' big thing I done was fall in love wid Mary Wylie. Dat come\n'bout on de second pay day. De other nigger gals say her marry me for my\nmoney but I never have believed it. White ladies do dat 'kalkilating'\ntrick sometime but you take a blue-gum nigger gal, all wool on de top of\nher head and lak to dance and jig wid her foots, to pattin' and fiddle\nmusic, her ain't gonna have money in de back of her head when her pick\nout a man to marry. Her gonna want a man wid muscles on his arms and\nback and I had them. Usin' dat pick and shovel on de railroad just give\nme what it took to git Mary. Us had ten chillun. Some dead, some marry\nand leave. My wife die year befo' last. Maggie is puny, as you see, and\nus gits 'long wid de goodness of de Lord and de white folks.\n\n\"I b'longs to de St. John Methodist Church in Middlesix, part of\nWinnsboro. They was havin' a rival (revival) meetin' de night of de\nearthquake, last day of August, in 1886. Folks had hardly got over de\nscare of 1881, 'bout de world comin' to an end. It was on Tuesday night,\nif I don't disremember, 'bout 9 o'clock. De preacher was prayin', just\nafter de fust sermon, but him never got to de amen part of dat prayer.\nDere come a noise or rumblin', lak far off thunder, seem lak it come\nfrom de northwest, then de church begin to rock lak a baby's cradle.\nDere was great excitement. Old Aunt Melvina holler: 'De world comin' to\nde end'. De preacher say: 'Oh, Lordy', and run out of de pulpit.\nEverbody run out de church in de moonlight. When de second quake come,\n'bout a minute after de fust, somebody started up de cry: 'De devil\nunder de church! De devil under de church! De devil gwine to take de\nchurch on his back and run away wid de church!' People never stop\nrunnin' 'til they got to de court house in town. Dere they 'clare de\ndevil done take St. John's Church on his back and fly away to hell wid\nit. Marse Henry Galliard make a speech and tell them what it was and beg\nthem to go home. Dat Mr. Skinner, de telegraph man at de depot, say de\nmain part of it was way down 'bout Charleston, too far away for anybody\nto git hurt here, 'less a brick from a chimney fall on somebody's head.\nDe niggers mostly believes what a fine man, lak Marse Henry, tell them.\nDe crowd git quiet. Some of them go home but many of them, down in de\nlow part of town, set on de railroad track in de moonlight, all night. I\nwas mighty sleepy de nex' mornin' but I work on de railroad track just\nde same. Dat night folks come back to St. John's Church, find it still\ndere, and such a outpourin' of de spirit was had as never was had befo'\nor since.\n\n\"Just think! Dat has been fifty-one years ago. Them was de glorious\nhorse and buggy days. Dere was no air-ships, no autos and no radios.\nWhite folks had horses to drive. Niggers had mules to ride to a baseball\ngame, to see white folks run lak de patarollers (patrollers) was after\nthem and they holler lak de world was on fire.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n ED BARBER\n EX-SLAVE 77 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nEd Barber lives in a small one-room house in the midst of a cotton field\non the plantation of Mr. A. M. Owens, ten miles southeast of Winnsboro,\nS. C. He lives alone and does his own cooking and housekeeping. He is a\nbright mulatto, has an erect carriage and posture, appears younger than\nhis age, is intelligent and enjoys recounting the tales of his lifetime.\nHis own race doesn't give him much countenance. His friends in the old\ndays of reconstruction were white people. He presumes on such past\naffiliation and considers himself better than the full-blooded Negro.\n\n\"It's been a long time since I see you. Maybe you has forgot but I ain't\nforgot de fust time I put dese lookers on you, in '76. Does you 'members\ndat day? It was in a piece of pines beyond de Presbyterian Church, in\nWinnsboro, S. C. Us both had red shirts. You was a ridin' a gray pony\nand I was a ridin' a red mule, sorrel like. You say dat wasn't '76?\nWell, how come it wasn't? Ouillah Harrison, another nigger, was dere,\nthough he was a man. Both of us got to arguin'. He 'low he could vote\nfor Hampton and I couldn't, 'cause I wasn't 21. You say it was '78\n'stead of '76, dat day in de pines when you was dere? Well! Well! I sho'\nbeen thinkin' all dis time it was '76.\n\n\"'Member de fight dat day when Mr. Pole Barnadore knock Mr. Blanchard\ndown, while de speakin' was a gwine on? You does? Well, us come to\ncommon 'greement on dat, bless God!\n\n\"Them was scary times! Me bein' just half nigger and half white man, I\nknowed which side de butter was on de bread. Who I see dere? Well, dere\nwas a string of red shirts a mile long, dat come into Winnsboro from\nWhite Oak. And another from Flint Hill, over de Pea Ferry road, a mile\nlong. De bar-rooms of de town did a big business dat day. Seem lak it\nwas de fashion to git drunk all 'long them days.\n\n\"Them red shirts was de monkey wrench in de cotton-gin of de carpet bag\nparty. I's here to tell you. If a nigger git hungry, all he have to do\nis go to de white folk's house, beg for a red shirt, and explain hisself\na democrat. He might not git de shirt right then but he git his belly\nfull of everything de white folks got, and de privilege of comin' to dat\ntrough sometime agin.\n\n\"You wants me to tell you 'bout who I is, where I born, and how old I\nis? Well, just cross examine me and I'll tell you de facts as best I\nknows how.\n\n\"I was born twelve miles east of Winnsboro, S. C. My marster say it was\nde 18th of January, 1860.\n\n\"My mother name Ann. Her b'long to my marster, James Barber. Dat's not a\nfair question when you ask me who my daddy was. Well, just say he was a\nwhite man and dat my mother never did marry nobody, while he lived. I\nwas de onliest child my mother ever had.\n\n\"After freedom my mother raised me on de Marse Adam Barber place, up by\nRocky Mount and Mitford. I stayed dere 'til all de 'citement of politics\ndie down. My help was not wanted so much at de 'lection boxes, so I got\nto roamin' 'round to fust one place and then another. But wheresomever I\ngo, I kept a thinkin' 'bout Rosa and de ripe may-pops in de field in\ncotton pickin' time. I landed back to de Barber place and after a\nskirmish or two wid de old folks, marry de gal de Lord always 'tended\nfor me to marry. Her name was Rosa Ford. You ask me if she was pretty?\nDat's a strange thing. Do you ever hear a white person say a colored\nwoman is pretty? I never have but befo' God when I was trampin' 'round\nCharleston, dere was a church dere called St. Mark, dat all de society\nfolks of my color went to. No black nigger welcome dere, they told me.\nThinkin' as how I was bright 'nough to git in, I up and goes dere one\nSunday. Ah, how they did carry on, bow and scrape and ape de white\nfolks. I see some pretty feathers, pretty fans, and pretty women dere! I\nwas uncomfortable all de time though, 'cause they was too 'hifalootin'\nin de ways, in de singin', and all sorts of carryin' ons.\n\n\"Glad you fetch me back to Rosa. Us marry and had ten chillun. Francis,\nThompkins, William, Jim, Levi, Ab and Oz is dead. Katie marry a Boykin\nand is livin' in New York. My wife, Rosa, die on dis place of Mr. Owens.\n\n\"I lives in a house by myself. I hoes a little cotton, picks plums and\nblackberries but dewberries 'bout played out.\n\n\"My marster, James Barber, went through de Civil War and died. I begs\nyou, in de name of de good white folks of '76 and Wade Hampton, not to\nforget me in dis old age pension business.\n\n\"What I think of Abe Lincoln? I think he was a poor buckra white man, to\nde likes of me. Although, I 'spects Mr. Lincoln meant well but I can't\nhelp but wish him had continued splittin' them fence rails, which they\nsay he knowed all 'bout, and never took a hand in runnin' de government\nof which he knowed nothin' 'bout. Marse Jeff Davis was all right, but\nhim oughta got out and fought some, lak General Lee, General Jackson and\n'Poleon Bonaparte. Us might have won de war if he had turned up at some\nof de big battles lak Gettysburg, 'Chickenmaroger', and 'Applemattox'.\nWhat you think 'bout dat?\n\n\"Yes sah, I has knowed a whole lot of good white men. Marse General\nBratton, Marse Ed P. Mobley, Marse Will Durham, dat owned dis house us\nnow settin' in, and Dr. Henry Gibson. Does I know any good colored men?\nI sho' does! Dere's Professor Benjamin Russell at Blackstock. You knows\nhim. Then dere was Ouillah Harrison, dat own a four-hoss team and a\nsaddle hoss, in red shirt days. One time de brass band at Winnsboro, S.\nC. wanted to go to Camden, S. C. to play at de speakin' of Hampton. He\ntook de whole band from Winnsboro to Camden, dat day, free of charge.\nAh! De way dat band did play all de way to Ridgeway, down de road to\nLongtown, cross de Camden Ferry, and right into de town. Dere was horns\na blowin', drums a beatin', and people a shoutin': 'Hurrah for Hampton!'\nSome was a singin': 'Hang Dan Chamberlain on a Sour Apple Tree'. Ouillah\ncome home and found his wife had done had a boy baby. What you reckon?\nHe name dat boy baby, Wade Hampton. When he come home to die, he lay his\nhand on dat boy's head and say: 'Wade, 'member who you name for and\nalways vote a straight out democrat ticket'. Which dat boy did!\"\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n MILLIE BARBER\n EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.\n\n\"Hope you find yourself well dis mornin', white folks. I's just common;\n'spect I eats too much yesterday. You know us celebrated yesterday,\n'cause it was de Fourth of July. Us had a good dinner on dis 2,000 acre\nfarm of Mr. Owens. God bless dat white boss man! What would us old no\n'count niggers do widout him? Dere's six or seven, maybe eight of us out\nhere over eighty years old. 'Most of them is like me, not able to hit a\nlick of work, yet he take care of us; he sho' does.\n\n\"Mr. Owens not a member of de church but he allowed dat he done found\nout dat it more blessed to give than to receive, in case like us.\n\n\"You wants to know all 'bout de slavery time, de war, de Ku Kluxes and\neverything? My tongue too short to tell you all dat I knows. However, if\nit was as long as my stockin's, I could tell you a trunk full of good\nand easy, bad and hard, dat dis old life-stream have run over in\neighty-two years. I's hoping to reach at last them green fields of Eden\nof de Promise Land. 'Scuse me ramblin' 'round, now just ask me\nquestions; I bet I can answer all you ask.\n\n\"My pa name, Tom McCullough; him was a slave of old Marster John\nMcCullough, whose big two-story house is de oldest in Fairfield County.\nIt stands today on a high hill, just above de banks of Dutchman Creek.\nBig road run right by dat house. My mammy name, Nicie. Her b'long to de\nWeir family; de head of de family die durin' de war of freedom. I's not\nsupposed to know all he done, so I'll pass over dat. My mistress name,\nEliza; good mistress. Have you got down dere dat old marster just took\nsick and die, 'cause he wasn't touched wid a bullet nor de life slashed\nout of him wid a sword?\n\n\"Well, my pa b'longin' to one man and my mammy b'longin' to another,\nfour or five miles apart, caused some confusion, mix-up, and heartaches.\nMy pa have to git a pass to come to see my mammy. He come sometimes\nwidout de pass. Patrollers catch him way up de chimney hidin' one night;\nthey stripped him right befo' mammy and give him thirty-nine lashes, wid\nher cryin' and a hollerin' louder than he did.\n\n\"Us lived in a log house; handmade bedstead, wheat straw mattress,\ncotton pillows, plenty coverin' and plenty to eat, sich as it was. Us\nnever git butter or sweet milk or coffee. Dat was for de white folks but\nin de summer time, I minds de flies off de table wid the peafowl feather\nbrush and eat in de kitchen just what de white folks eat; them was very\ngood eatin's I's here for to tell you. All de old slaves and them dat\nworked in de field, got rations and de chillun were fed at de kitchen\nout-house. What did they git? I 'members they got peas, hog meat, corn\nbread, 'lasses, and buttermilk on Sunday, then they got greens, turnips,\ntaters, shallots, collards, and beans through de week. They were kept\nfat on them kind of rations.\n\n\"De fact is I can't 'member us ever had a doctor on de place; just a\ngranny was enough at child birth. Slave women have a baby one day, up\nand gwine 'round de next day, singin' at her work lak nothin' unusual\nhad happened.\n\n\"Did I ever git a whippin'? Dat I did. How many times? More than I can\ncount on fingers and toes. What I git a whippin' for? Oh, just one\nthing, then another. One time I break a plate while washin' dishes and\nanother time I spilt de milk on de dinin' room floor. It was always for\nsomethin', sir. I needed de whippin'.\n\n\"Yes sir, I had two brothers older than me; one sister older than me and\none brother younger than me.\n\n\"My young marster was killed in de war. Their names was Robert, Smith,\nand Jimmie. My young mistress, Sarah, married a Sutton and moved to\nTexas. Nancy marry Mr. Wade Rawls. Miss Janie marry Mr. Hugh Melving. At\nthis marriage my mammy was give to Miss Janie and she was took to Texas\nwid her young baby, Isaiah, in her arms. I have never seen or heard tell\nof them from dat day to dis.\n\n\"De Yankees come and burn de gin-house and barns. Open de smokehouse,\ntake de meat, give de slaves some, shoot de chickens, and as de mistress\nand girls beg so hard, they left widout burnin' de dwellin' house.\n\n\"My oldest child, Alice, is livin' and is fifty-one years old de 10th of\ndis last May gone. My first husband was Levi Young; us lived wid Mr.\nKnox Picket some years after freedom. We moved to Mr. Rubin Lumpkin's\nplantation, then to George Boulwares. Well, my husband die and I took a\nfool notion, lak most widows, and got into slavery again. I marry Prince\nBarber; Mr. John Hollis, Trial Justice, tied de knot. I loved dat young\nnigger more than you can put down dere on paper, I did. He was black and\nshiny as a crow's wing. Him was white as snow to dese old eyes. Ah, the\njoy, de fusses, de ructions, de beatin's, and de makin' ups us had on de\nEd Shannon place where us lived. Us stay dere seven long years.\n\n\"Then de Klu Kluxes comed and lak to scared de life out of me. They ask\nwhere Prince was, searched de house and go away. Prince come home 'bout\ndaylight. Us took fright, went to Marster Will Durham's and asked for\nadvice and protection. Marster Will Durham fixed it up. Next year us\nmoved to dis place, he own it then but Marster Arthur Owens owns it now.\nDere is 2,000 acres in dis place and another 1,000 acres in de Rubin\nLumpkin place 'joinin' it.\n\n\"Prince die on dis place and I is left on de mercy of Marster Arthur,\nlivin' in a house wid two grandchillun, James twelve years, and John\nRoosevelt Barber, eight years old. Dese boys can work a little. They can\npick cotton and tote water in de field for de hands and marster say:\n'Every little help'.\n\n\"My livin' chillun ain't no help to me. Dere's Willie, I don't know\nwhere he is. Prince is wid Mr. Freeman on de river. Maggie is here on de\nplace but she no good to me.\n\n\"I 'spect when I gits to drawin' down dat pension de white folks say is\ncomin', then dere will be more folks playin' in my backyard than dere is\ntoday.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n ANDERSON BATES\n EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nAnderson Bates lives with his son-in-law and daughter, Ed and Dora\nOwens, in a three-room frame house, on lands of Mr. Dan Heyward, near\nthe Winnsboro Granite Company, Winnsboro, S. C. Anderson and his wife\noccupy one of the rooms and his rent is free. His son-in-law has regular\nemployment at the Winnsboro Cotton Mills. His wife, Carrie, looks after\nthe house. Anderson and his daughter, Dora, are day laborers on the\nneighborhood farms, but he is able to do very little work.\n\n\"I was born on de old Dr. Furman place, near Jenkinsville, S. C., in de\nyear, 1850. My pappy was name Nat and mammy name Winnie. They was slaves\nof old Dr. Furman, dat have a big plantation, one hundred slaves, and a\nwhole lot of little slave chillun, dat him wouldn't let work. They run\n'round in de plum thickets, blackberry bushes, hunt wild strawberries,\nblow cane whistles, and have a good time.\n\n\"De old Dr. Furman house is ramshackle but it is still standin' out dere\nand is used as a shelter for sawmill hands dat is cuttin' down de big\npines and sawin' them on de place.\n\n\"Where did my pappy and mammy come from? Mammy was born a slave in de\nFurman family in Charleston, but pappy was bought out of a drove dat a\nBaltimore speculator fetch from Maryland long befo' de war. Doctor\npractice all 'round and 'bout Monticello, happen 'long one day, see my\npappy and give a thousand dollars for him, to dat speculator. I thank\nGod for dat!\n\n\"Dr. Furman, my old marster, have a brudder called Jim, dat run de\nFurman School, fust near Winnsboro, then it move to Greenville, S. C.\n\n\"My mistress name Nancy. Her was of de quality. Her voice was soft and\nquiet to de slaves. Her teach us to sing:\n\n 'Dere is a happy land, far, far 'way,\n Where bright angels stand, far, far 'way,\n Oh! How them angels sing!\n Oh! How them bells ring!\n In dat happy land, far, far 'way!'\n\n\"Dere was over a thousand acres, maybe two thousand in dat old Furman\nplace. Them sawmill folks give $30,000.00 for it, last year.\n\n\"My pappy and mammy was field hands. My brudders and sisters was:\nLiddie, Millie, Ria, Ella, Harriet, Thomas, Smith, and Marshall. All\ndead but me and Marshall.\n\n\"I was fifteen when de Yankees come thru. They took off everything,\nhosses, mules, cows, sheep, goats, turkeys, geese, and chickens. Hogs?\nYes sah, they kill hogs and take off what parts they want and leave\nother parts bleedin' on de yard. When they left, old marster have to go\nup into Union County for rations.\n\n\"Dat's funny, you wants to set down dere 'bout my courtship and weddin'?\nWell, sir, I stay on de old plantation, work for my old marster, de\ndoctor, and fell head over heels in love wid Carrie. Dere was seven more\nniggers a flyin' 'round dat sugar lump of a gal in de night time when I\nbreezes in and takes charge of de fireside cheer. I knocks one down one\nnight, kick another out de nex' night, and choke de stuffin' out of one\nde nex' night. I landed de three-leg stool on de head of de fourth one,\nde last time. Then de others carry deir 'fections to some other place\nthan Carrie's house. Us have some hard words 'bout my bad manners, but I\ntold her dat I couldn't 'trol my feelin's wid them fools a settin'\n'round dere gigglin' wid her. I go clean crazy!\n\n\"Then us git married and go to de ten-acre quarry wid Mr. Anderson. I\nwork dere a while and then go to Captain Macfie, then to his son, Wade,\nand then to Marse Rice Macfie. Then I go back to de quarry, drill and\ngit out stone. They pay me $3.50 a day 'til de Parr Shoals Power come in\nwid 'lectric power drills and I was cut down to eighty cents a day. Then\nI say: 'Old grey hoss! Damn 'lectric toolin', I's gwine to leave.' I\nwent to Hopewell, Virginia, and work wid de DuPonts for five years. War\ncome on and they ask me to work on de acid area. De atmosphere dere tear\nall de skin off my face and arms, but I stuck it out to de end of de big\nwar, for $7.20 a day. I drunk a good deal of liquor then, but I sent\nmoney to Carrie all de time and fetch her a roll every fourth of July\nand on Christmas. After de war they dismantle de plant and I come back\nto work for Mr. Eleazer, on de Saluda River for $2.00 a day, for five\nyears.\n\n\"Carrie have chillun by me. Dere was Anderson, my son, ain't see him in\nforty years. Essie, my daughter, marry Herbert Perrin. Dora, another\ndaughter, marry Ed Owens. Ed makes good money workin' at de factory in\nWinnsboro. They have seven chillun. Us tries to keep them chillun in\nschool but they don't have de good times I had when a child, a eatin'\ncracklin' bread and buttermilk, liver, pig-tails, hog-ears and turnip\ngreens.\n\n\"Does I 'member anything 'bout de Klu Kluxes? Jesus, yes! My old\nmarster, de doctor, in goin' 'round, say out loud to people dat Klu\nKluxes was doin' some things they ought not to do, by 'stortin' money\nout of niggers just 'cause they could.\n\n\"When he was gone to Union one day, a low-down pair of white men come,\nwid false faces, to de house and ask where Dick Bell was. Miss Nancy say\nher don't know. They go hunt for him. Dick made a bee-line for de\nhouse. They pull out hoss pistols, fust time, 'pow'. Dick run on, secon'\ntime, 'pow'. Dick run on, third time, 'pow' and as Dick reach de front\nyard de ball from de third shot keel him over lak a hit rabbit. Old miss\nrun out but they git him. Her say: 'I give you five dollars to let him\n'lone.' They say: 'Not 'nough.' Her say: 'I give you ten dollars.' They\nsay: 'Not 'nough.' Her say: 'I give you fifteen dollars.' They say: 'Not\n'nough.' Her say: 'I give you twenty-five dollars.' They take de money\nand say: 'Us'll be back tomorrow for de other Dick.' They mean Dick\nJames.\n\n\"Nex' day, us see them a comin' again. Dick James done load up de\nshotgun wid buckshot. When they was comin' up de front steps, Uncle Dick\nsay to us all in de big house: 'Git out de way!' De names of de men us\nfind out afterwards was Bishop and Fitzgerald. They come up de steps,\nwid Bishop in de front. Uncle Dick open de door, slap dat gun to his\nshoulder, and pull de trigger. Dat man Bishop hollers: 'Oh Lordy.' He\ndrop dead and lay dere 'til de coroner come. Fitzgerald leap 'way. They\nbring Dick to jail, try him right in dat court house over yonder. What\ndid they do wid him? Well, when Marse Bill Stanton, Marse Elisha\nRagsdale and Miss Nancy tell 'bout it all from de beginnin' to de end,\nde judge tell de jury men dat Dick had a right to protect his home, and\nhisself, and to kill dat white man and to turn him loose. Dat was de end\nof de Klu Kluxes in Fairfield.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n From Field Notes\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n April 28. 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n FOLK LORE: FOLK TALES (negro)\n\n\n\"I sho members when de soldiers come home from de war. All de women\nfolks, both black as well as white wuz so glad to see 'em back dat we\njus jumped up and hollered 'Oh, Lawdy, God bless you.' When you would\nlook around a little, you would see some widout an arm or maybe dey\nwould be a walkin' wid a cruch or a stick. Den you would cry some widout\nlettin your white folks see you. But Jane, de worsest time of all fer us\ndarkies wuz when de Ku Klux killed Dan Black. We wuz little chilluns a\nplayin' in Dans house. We didn't know he had done nothin' ginst de white\nfolks. Us wuz a playin by de fire jus as nice when something hit on de\nwall. Dan, he jump up and try to git outten de winder. A white spooky\nthing had done come in de doo' right by me. I was so scairt dat I could\nnot git up. I had done fell straight out on de flo'. When Dan stick his\nhead outten dat winder something say bang and he fell right down in de\nflo'. I crawles under de bed. When I got dar, all de other chilluns wuz\ndar to, lookin' as white as ashed dough from hickory wood. Us peeped out\nand den us duck under de bed agin. Ain't no bed ebber done as much good\nas dat one. Den a whole lot of dem come in de house. De wuz all white\nand scairy lookin'. It still makes de shivvers run down my spine and\nhere I is ole and you all a settin' around wid me and two mo' wars done\ngone since dat awful time. Dan Black, he wo'nt no mo' kaise dey took dat\nnigger and hung him to a simmon tree. Dey would not let his folks take\nhim down either. He jus stayed dar till he fell to pieces.\n\n\"After dat when us chilluns seed de Ku Klux a comin', us would take an'\nrun breakneck speed to de nearest wood. Dar we would stay till dey wuz\nplum out o' sight and you could not even hear de horses feet. Dem days\nwuz worse'n de war. Yes Lawd, dey wuz worse'n any war I is ebber heard\nof.\n\n\"Was not long after dat fore de spooks wuz a gwine round ebber whar.\nWhen you would go out atter dark, somethin' would start to a haintin'\nye. You would git so scairt dat you would mighty ni run every time you\nwent out atter dark; even iffin you didn't see nothin'. Chile, don't axe\nme what I seed. Atter all dat killin' and a burnin' you know you wuz\nbliged to see things wid all dem spirits in distress a gwine all over de\nland. You see, it is like dis, when a man gits killed befo he is done\nwhat de good Lawd intended fer him to do, he comes back here and tries\nto find who done him wrong. I mean he don' come back hisself, but de\nspirit, it is what comes and wanders around. Course, it can't do\nnothin', so it jus scares folks and haints dem.\"\n\n Source: \"Aunt\" Millie Bates, 25 Hamlet street, Union, S. C.\n Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler\n Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n Georgetown County\n\n FOLKLORE\n\n VISIT WITH UNCLE WELCOME BEES--AGE 104 YEARS\n\n\nThe road is perfectly camouflaged from the King's Highway by wild plums\nthat lap overhead. Only those who have traveled this way before could\nlocate the 'turn in' to Uncle Welcome's house. When you have turned in\nand come suddenly out from the plum thicket you find your road winding\nalong with cultivated patches on the left--corn and peas--a fenced-in\ngarden, the palings riven out by hand, and thick dark woods on the left.\nA lonesome, untenanted cabin is seemingly in the way but your car swings\nto the left instead of climbing the door-step and suddenly you find you\nare facing a bog. The car may get through; it may not. So you switch off\nand just sit a minute, seeing how the land lies. A great singing and\nchopping of wood off to the left have kept the inmates from hearing the\napproach of a car. When you rap therefore you hear, 'Come in'.\n\nA narrow hall runs through to the back porch and off this hall on your\nright opens a door from beyond which comes a very musical squeaking--you\nknow a rocking chair is going hard--even before you see it in motion\nwith a fuzzy little head that rests on someone's shoulder sticking over\nthe top. And the fuzzy head which in size is like a small five-cent\ncocoanut, belongs to Uncle Welcome's great-grand. On seeing a visitor\nthe grand, the mother of the infant, rises and smiles greeting, and,\nlearning your errand, points back to the kitchen to show where Uncle\nWelcome sits. You step down one step and ask him if you may come in and\nhe pats a chair by his side. The old man isn't so spry as he was when\nyou saw him in the fall; the winter has been hard. But here it is warm\nagain and at most four in the April afternoon, he sits over his plate of\nhopping John--he and innumerable flies. At his feet, fairly under the\nfront of a small iron stove, sits another great-grand with a plate of\npeas between her legs. Peas and rice, 'hopping John'. (Someone says peas\nand hominy cooked together makes \"limping Lizzie in the Low-Country.\"\nBut that is another story.)\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"Uncle Welcome, isn't Uncle Jeemes Stuart the oldest liver on Sandy\nIsland?\" Welcome: \"Jeemes Stuart? I was married man when he born. Jeemes\nrice-field. (Worker in rice-field) posed himself. In all kinds of\nweather. Cut you down, down, down. Jeemes second wife gal been married\nbefore but her husband dead.\n\n\"I couldn't tell the date or time I born. Your Maussa (Master) take it\ndown. When I been marry, Dr. Ward Fadder (Father) aint been marry yet.\nMy mother had twelve head born Oatland. He bought my mother from\nVirginia. Dolly. Sam her husband name. Sam come from same course. When\nmy mother been bought, her been young woman. Work in rice. Plow right\nnow (Meaning April is time to plow rice fields). I do carpenter work and\nmind horse for plantation. Come from Georgetown in boat. Have you own\ncarriage. Go anywhere you want to go. Oatland church build for colored\npeople and po-buckra. I helped build that church. The boss man, Mr.\nBettman. My son Isaac sixty-nine. If him sixty-nine, I one hundred four.\nThat's my record. Maussa didn't low you to marry till you twenty-two.\nBen Allston own Turkey Hill. When him dead, I was twelve years old. Me!\n(Knocking his chest)\"\n\n Welcome Bees--\n Parkersville, S. C.\n (Near Waverly Mills, S. C.)\n Age 104.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n ANNE BELL\n EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD.\n ~HW: (near Winnsboro, S. C.)~]\n\n\nAnne Bell lives with her niece, in a one-room annex to a two-room frame\nhouse, on the plantation of Mr. Lake Howze, six miles west of Winnsboro,\nS. C. Her niece's husband, Golden Byrd, is a share-cropper on Mr.\nHowze's place. The old lady is still spry and energetic about the cares\nof housekeeping and attention to the small children of her niece. She is\na delightful old lady and well worth her keep in the small chores she\nundertakes and performs in the household.\n\n\"My marster was John Glazier Rabb; us call him Marse Glazier. My\nmistress was Nancy Kincaid Watts; us call her Miss Nancy. They lived on\na big plantation in Fairfield County and dere I come into dis world,\neighty-three years ago, 10th day of April past.\n\n\"My pappy name just Andy but after de freedom, he took de name of Andrew\nWatts. My old mammy was Harriett but she come to you if you calls her\nHattie. My brudders was Jake and Rafe. My sister name Charity. They all\ndead and gone to glory long time ago; left me here 'lone by myself and\nI's settin' here tellin' you 'bout them.\n\n\"My mammy was de cook at de 'Big House' for marster, Miss Nancy, and de\nchillun. Let me see if I can call them over in my mind. Dere was Marse\nJohn, went off to de war, color bearer at Seven Pines. Yes sir, him was\nkilled wid de colors a flyin' in his hand. Heard tell of it many times.\nHe lies right now in de old Buck Church graveyard. De pine trees, seven\nof them, cry and sob 'round him every August 6th; dat's de day he was\nkilled. Oh, my God!\n\n\"Marse James went wid old Colonel Rion. They say he got shot but bullets\ncouldn't kill him. No, bless God! Him comed back. Then come Marse\nClarence. He went wid Captain Jim Macfie, went through it all and didn't\nget a scratch. Next was Miss Jesse. Then come Marse Horace, and Miss\nNina. Us chillun all played together. Marse Horace is livin' yet and is\na fine A. R.P. preacher of de Word. Miss Nina a rich lady, got\nplantation but live 'mong de big bugs in Winnsboro. She married Mr.\nCastles; she is a widow now. He was a good man, but he dead now.\n\n\"De one I minds next, is Charlie. I nussed him. He married Colonel\nProvince's daughter. Dat's all I can call to mind, right now.\n\n\"Course de white folks I b'longs to, had more slaves than I got fingers\nand toes; whole families of them. De carpenter and de blacksmith on de\nplace made de bedsteads. Us had good wheat straw mattresses to sleep on;\ncotton quilts, spreads, and cotton pillows. No trouble to sleep but it\nwas hard to hear dat white overseer say at day break: 'Let me hear them\nfoots hit de floor and dat befo' I go! Be lively! Hear me?' And you had\nto answer, 'Yas sah', befo' he'd move on to de nex' house. I does\n'member de parts of de bed, was held together by wooden pins. I sho'\n'members dat!\n\n\"Mammy Harriett was de cook. I didn't done no work but 'tend to de\nchillun and tote water.\n\n\"Money? Go 'way from here, boss! Lord, no sir, I never saw no money.\nWhat I want wid it anyhow?\n\n\"How did they feed us? Had better things to eat then, than now and more\ndifferent kind of somethin's. Us had pears, 'lasses, shorts, middlings\nof de wheat, corn bread, and all kinds of milk and vegetables.\n\n\"Got a whuppin' once. They wanted me to go after de turkeys and I didn't\nwant to go past de graveyard, where de turkeys was. I sho' didn't want\nto go by them graves. I's scared now to go by a graveyard in de dark. I\ntook de whuppin' and somebody else must have got de turkeys. Sho' I\ndidn't drive them up!\n\n\"Slaves spun de thread, loomed de cloth, and made de clothes for de\nplantation. Don't believe I had any shoes. I was just a small gal anyhow\nthen, didn't need them and didn't want them.\n\n\"Yes, I's seen nigger women plow. Church? I wouldn't fool you, all de\nslaves big enough and not sick, had to go to church on de Sabbath.\n\n\"They give us a half Saturday, to do as we like.\n\n\"I was 'bout ten years old when de Yankees come. They was full to de\nbrim wid mischief. They took de frocks out de presses and put them on\nand laugh and carry on powerful. Befo' they went they took everything.\nThey took de meat and 'visions out de smoke-house, and de 'lasses,\nsugar, flour, and meal out de house. Killed de pigs and cows, burnt de\ngin-house and cotton, and took off de live stock, geese, chickens and\nturkeys.\n\n\"After de freedom, I stayed on wid mammy right dere, 'til I married Levi\nBell. I's had two chillun. Dis my grand-daughter, I visitin'. I never\n'spects to have as good a home as I had in slavery time, 'til I gits my\ntitle to dat mansion in de sky. Dats de reason I likes to sing dat old\nplantation spiritual, 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot, Jesus Gwinter Carry me\nHome'. Does I believe in 'ligion? What else good for colored folks? I\nask you if dere ain't a heaven, what's colored folks got to look forward\nto? They can't git anywhere down here. De only joy they can have here,\nis servin' and lovin'; us can git dat in 'ligion but dere is a limit to\nde nigger in everything else. Course I knows my place in dis world; I\n'umbles myself here to be 'zalted up yonder.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n July 26, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n SLAVERY REMINISCENCES\n\n\n\"I was raised in the wood across the road about 200 yards from here. I\nwas very mischievous. My parents were honest and were Christians. I\nloved them very much. My father was William Bevis, who died at the age\nof eighty. Miss Zelia Hames of Pea Ridge was my mother. My parents are\nburied at Bethlehem Methodist Church. I was brought up in Methodism and\nI do not know anything else. I had two brothers and four sisters. My\ntwin sister died last April 1937. She was Fannie Holcombe. I was in bed\nwith pneumonia at the time of her death and of course I could not go to\nthe funeral. For a month, I was unconscious.\n\n\"When I was a little girl I played 'Andy-over' with a ball, in the\nmoonlight. Later I went to parties and dances. Calico, chambric and\ngingham were the materials which our party dresses were made of.\n\n\"My grandmother, Mrs. Phoebe Bevis used to tell Revolutionary stories\nand sing songs that were sung during that period. Grandmother knew some\nTories. She always told me that old Nat Gist was a Tory ... that is the\nway he got rich.\n\n\"Hampton was elected governor the morning my mother died. Father went in\nhis carriage to Jonesville to vote for Hampton. We all thought that\nHampton was fine.\n\n\"When I was a school girl I used the blue back speller. My sweetheart's\nname was Ben Harris. We went to Bethlehem to school. Jeff and Bill\nHarris were our teachers. I was thirteen. We went together for six\nyears. The Confederate War commenced. He was very handsome. He had black\neyes and black hair. I had seven curls on one side of my head and seven\non the other. He was twenty-four when he joined the 'Boys of Sixteen'.\n\n\"He wanted to marry me then, but father would not let us marry. He\nkissed me good bye and went off to Virginia. He was a picket and was\nkilled while on duty at Mars Hill. Bill Harris was in a tent nearby and\nheard the shot. He brought Ben home. I went to the funeral. I have never\nbeen much in-love since then.\n\n\"I hardly ever feel sad. I did not feel especially sad during the war. I\nmade socks, gloves and sweaters for the Confederate soldiers and also\nknitted for the World War soldiers. During the war, there were three\nlooms and three shuttles in our house.\n\n\"I went often to the muster grounds at Kelton to see the soldiers drill\nand to flirt my curls at them. Pa always went with me to the muster\nfield. Once he invited four recruits to dine with us. We had a delicious\nsupper. That was before the Confederacy was paralyzed. Two darkies\nwaited on our table that night, Dorcas and Charlotte. A fire burned in\nour big fireplace and a lamp hung over the table. After supper was over,\nwe all sat around the fire in its flickering light.\n\n\"My next lover was Jess Holt and he was drowned in the Mississippi\nRiver. He was a carpenter and was building a warf on the river. He fell\nin and was drowned in a whirlpool.\"\n\n Source: Miss Caroline Bevis (W. 96), County Home, Union, S. C.\n Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. (7/13/37)\n\n\n\n\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, June 21, 1937\n\n MAGGIE BLACK\n Ex-Slave, 79 years\n\n\n\"Honey, I don' know wha' to tell yuh 'bout dem times back dere. Yuh see\nI wus jes uh young child when de free war close en I ain' know much to\ntell yuh. I born o'er de river dere to Massa Jim Wilkerson plantation.\nDon' know wha' 'come uv my ole Massa chillun a'ter dey head been gone.\nYuh see, honey, Massa Jim Wilkerson hab uh heap uv slave en he hire my\nmudder out to Colonel Durant place right down de road dere whey Miss\nDurant lib now. Coase I been back o'er de river to visit 'mongest de\npeoples dere a'ter freedom wuz 'clare, but I ain' ne'er lib dere no\nmore.\"\n\n\"Gawd been good to me, honey. I been heah uh long ole time en I can' see\nmucha dese days, but I gettin' 'long sorta so-so. I wuz train up to be\nuh nu'se 'oman en I betcha I got chillun more den any 60 year ole 'bout\nheah now dat I nu'se when dey wuz fust come heah. No, honey, ain' got no\nchillun uv me own. Aw my chillun white lak yuh.\"\n\n\"No, no'mam, dey wear long ole frock den en uh girl comin' on dere when\ndey ge' to be any kind uv uh girl, dey put dat frock down. Oh, my child,\ndey can' ge' em short 'nough dese days. Ain' hab nuthin but uh string on\ndese day en time. Dey use'er wear dem big ole hoop skirt dat sit out\nbroad lak from de ankle en den dey wear little panty dat show down twixt\ndey skirt en dey ankle. Jes tie em 'round dey knees wid some sorta\nstring en le' em show dat way 'bout dey ankle. I 'member we black\nchillun'ud go in de woods en ge' wild grape vine en bend em round en put\nem under us skirt en make it stand out big lak. Hadder hab uh big ole\nring fa de bottom uv de skirt en den one uh little bit smaller eve'y\ntime dey ge' closer to de waist. Ne'er hab none tall in de waist cause\ndat wuz s'ppose to be little bitty t'ing.\"\n\n\"Dey weave aw de cloth dey use den right dere on de plantation. Wear\ncotton en woolens aw de time den. Coase de Madam, she could go en ge' de\nfinest kind uv silk cause mos' uv her t'ing come from 'broad. Child, I\nc'n see my ole mammy how she look workin' dat spinning wheel jes us good\nuz ef dat day wuz dis day right heah. She set dere at dat ole spinning\nwheel en take one shettle en t'row it one way en den annuder de udder\nway en pull dat t'ing en make it tighter en tighter. Sumptin say zum,\nzum, zum, en den yuh hadder work yuh feet dere too. Dat wuz de way dey\nmake dey cloth dat day en time.\"\n\n\"Honey, peoples hadder work dey hand fa eve'yt'ing dey hab mos' den. Dey\ngrew dey own rice right dere on de plantation in dem days. Hadder plant\nit on some uv de land wha' wuz weter den de udder land wuz. Dey hadder\nle' de rice ge' good en ripe en den dey'ud cut it en hab one uv dem big\nrice whipping days. Heap uv people come from plantation aw 'bout en\nhelp whip dat rice. Dey jes take de rice en beat it 'cross some hoes dat\ndey hab fix up somewhey dere on de plantation. Honey, dey hab hoss jes\nlak dese hoss yuh see carpenter use 'boat heah dese days. Dey'ud hab\nhundreds uv bushels uv dat rice dere. Den when dey ge' t'rough, dey hab\nbig supper dere fa aw dem wha' whip rice. Gi'e em aw de rice en hog head\ndey is e'er wan'. Man, dey'ud hab de nicest kind uv music dere. Knock\ndem bones togedder en slap en pat dey hands to aw kind uv pretty tune.\"\n\n\"Dem dey hab rice mortars right dere on de plantation wha' dey fix de\nrice in jes uz nice. Now dey hab to take it to de mill. Yuh see dey hab\nuh big block outer in de yard wid uh big hole in it dat dey put de rice\nin en take dese t'ing call pestles en beat down on it en dat wha' knock\nde shaft offen it. Coase dey ne'er hab no nice pretty rice lak yuh see\ndese days cause it wusn't uz white uz de rice dat dey hab 'boat heah dis\nday en time, but it wuz mighty sweet rice, honey, mighty sweet rice.\"\n\n\"No'mam, didn't hab no schools tall den. Ne'er gi'e de colored peoples\nno l'arnin' no whey 'fore freedom 'clare. Wha' little l'arnin' come my\nway wuz wha' I ge' when I stay wid Miss Martha Leggett down dere to\nLeggett's Mill Pond. A'ter freedom 'clare, uh lady from de north come\ndere en Miss Leggett send we chillun to school to dat lady up on de hill\ndere in de woods. No, honey, yah ain' ne'er see no bresh tent 'bout\nheah dis day en time. Dis jes de way it waz make. Dey dig four big holes\nen put postes in aw four corner 'bout lak uh room. Den dey lay log\n'cross de top uv dat en kiver it aw o'er wid bresh (brush) dat dey break\nouter de woods. Ne'er hab none uv de side shet up. En dey haul log dere\nen roll em under dat bresh tent fa we chillun to set on. Oh, de\nteacher'ud hab uh big box fa her stand jes lak uh preacher. Eve'ybody\ndat go to school dere hab one uv dem t'ing call slate dat yah ne'er\nhadder do nuthin but jes wash it offen. En dey hab dese ole l'arnin'\nbook wha' yuh call Websters.\"\n\n\"My white folks al'ays waz good to me, honey. Ne'er didn't nab to do no\nfield work in aw me life. When I stay dere wid Miss Leggett, I hadder\npick up little chip 'bout de yard when I fust come home from school en\nden I hadder go 'way up in de big field en drib de turkeys up. We didn't\nfind dat no hard t'ing to do lak de peoples talk lak it sumptin hard to\ndo dese days. We wuz l'arnt to work en didn't mind it neither. Al'ays\nminded to us own business.\"\n\n\"Oh, gourds waz de t'ing in dem days. Dey waz wha' de peoples hab to\ndrink outer en wash dey hominy en rice in aw de time. Dey was de bestest\nkind uv bowl fa we chillun to eat corn bread en clabber outer. Peoples\ndis day en time don' hab no sech crockery lak de people use'er hab.\nHoney, day hab de prettiest little clay bowls den.\"\n\n\"Annuder t'ing de peoples do den dat yuh ain' ne'er hear 'bout nobody\ndoing dese days, dey al'ays boil sumptin fa dey cows to eat lak peas en\ncorn in uh big ole black pot somewhey dere in de back lot. Coase it wuz\njes half cooked, but day sho' done dat. Nobody ne'er t'ought 'bout not\ncookin' fa dey cow den.\"\n\n\"Dat was sho' uh different day from dis, honey. De little chillun wus\njes uz foolish den cause de peoples ne'er tell dem 'bout nuthin tall in\ndat day en time. Aw dese little chillun 'bout heah dese days don' hab no\nshame 'bout em no whey. Dey hab head full uv eve'yt'ing, honey, aw sorta\ngrown people knowings.\"\n\n Source: Maggie Black, ex-slave, age 79, Marion, S. C.\n Personal interview, June 1937\n\n\n\n\n Spartanburg, S. C.\n June 7, 1937\n\n FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in Laurens County, S. C., at the 'brick house', which is\nclose to Newberry County line, and my master was Dr. Felix Calmes. The\nold brick house is still there. My daddy was Joe Grazier and my mammy,\nNellie Grazier.\n\n\"We had a pretty good house to live in in slavery time, and some fair\nthings to eat, but never was paid any money. We had plenty to eat like\nfat meat, turnips, cabbages, cornbread, milk and pot-liquor. Master sent\nhis corn and apples, and his peaches to old man Scruggs at Helena, near\nNewberry, to have him make his whiskey, brandy, and wine for him. Old\nman Scruggs was good at that business. The men hunted some, squirrels,\nrabbits, possums, and birds.\n\n\"In the winter time I didn't have much clothes, and no shoes. At nights\nI carded and spinned on the mistress's wheels, helping my mammy. Then we\ngot old woman Wilson to weave for us.\n\n\"Master had a big plantation of several farms, near about 1,000 acres or\nmore. It was said he had once 250 slaves on his places, counting\nchildren and all. His overseers had to whip the slaves, master told them\nto, and told them to whip them hard. Master Calmes was most always mean\nto us. He got mad spells and whip like the mischief. He all the time\nwhipping me 'cause I wouldn't work like he wanted. I worked in the big\nhouse, washed, ironed, cleaned up, and was nurse in the house when war\nwas going on.\n\n\"We didn't have a chance to learn to read and write, and master said if\nhe caught any of his slaves trying to learn he would 'skin them alive'.\n\n\"There was a church in the neighborhood on Dr. Blackburn's place, but we\ndidn't get to go to it much. I was 17 years old when I joined the\nchurch. I joined because the rest of the girls joined. I think everybody\nought to join the church.\n\n\"On Saturday afternoons the slaves had to work, and all day Sunday, too,\nif master wanted them. On Christmas Day we was give liquor to get drunk\non, but didn't have no dinner.\n\n\"When I was sick old Dr. P. B. Ruff attended me. Old Dr. Calmes, I\n'member, traveled on a horse, with saddle-bag behind him, and made his\nown medicines. He made pills from cornbread.\n\n\"I saw many slaves sold on the block--saw mammy with little infant taken\naway from her baby and sent away. I saw families separated from each\nother, some going to one white master and some to another.\n\n\"I married at 14 years old to Arthur Bluford. We had 10 children. I now\nhave about 8 grandchildren and about 7 or 8 great-grandchildren. I was\nmarried in the town of Newberry at the white folk's Methodist church, by\na colored preacher named Rev. Geo. De Walt.\n\n\"When freedom come, they left and hired out to other people, but I\nstayed and was hired out to a man who tried to whip me, but I ran away.\nDat was after I married and had little baby. I told my mammy to look\nafter my little baby 'cause I was gone. I stayed away two years 'till\nafter Dr. Calmes and his family moved to Mississippi.\"\n\n Source: Gordon Bluford (92), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, 1707 Lindsey St.,\n Newberry, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n Henry Grant\n Columbia, S. C.\n\n SAMUEL BOULWARE\n EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nSamuel Boulware's only home is one basement room, in the home of colored\nfriends, for which no rent charges are made. He is old and feeble and\nhas poor eyesight, yet, he is self-supporting by doing light odd jobs,\nmostly for white people. He has never married, hence no dependents\nwhatever. One of the members of the house, in which Samuel lives, told\nhim someone on the front porch wanted to talk with him.\n\nFrom his dingy basement room he slowly mounted the steps and came toward\nthe front door with an irregular shamble. One seeing his approach would\nnaturally be of the opinion, that this old darkey was certainly nearing\nthe hundred year mark. Apparently Father Time had almost caught up with\nhim; he had been caught in the winds of affliction and now he was\ntottering along with a bent and twisted frame, which for many years in\nthe past, housed a veritable physical giant. The winds of 82 years had\nblown over him and now he was calmly and humbly approaching the end of\nhis days. Humility was his attitude, a characteristic purely\nattributable to the genuine and old-fashion southern Negro. He slid into\na nearby chair and began talking in a plain conversational way.\n\n\"Dis is a mighty hot day white folks but you knows dis is July and us\ngits de hot days in dis month. De older I gits de more I feels de hot\nand de cold. I has been a strong, hard working man most all my life and\nif it wasn't for dis rheumatism I has in my right leg, I could work hard\nevery day now.\n\n\"Does I 'member much 'bout slavery times? Well, dere is no way for me to\ndisremember, unless I die. My mammy and me b'long to Doctor Hunter,\nsome called him Major Hunter. When I was a small boy, I lived wid my\nmammy on de Hunter plantation. After freedom, I took de name of my\ndaddy, who was a Boulware. He b'long to Reuben Boulware, who had a\nplantation two and one-half miles from Ridgeway, S. C., on de road dat\nleads to Longtown. My mistress' name was Effie. She and marster had four\nsons, no girls a-tall. George, Abram, Willie, and Henry, was their\nnames. They was fine boys, 'cause they was raised by Mistress Effie's\nown hands. She was a good woman and done things 'zackly right 'round de\nplantation. Us slaves loved her, 'cause she said kind and soft words to\nus. Many times I's seen her pat de little niggers on de head, smile and\nsay nice words to them. Boss, kind treatment done good then and it sho'\ndoes good dis present day; don't you think I's right 'bout dat? Marster\nhad a bad temper. When he git mad, he walk fast, dis way and dat way,\nand when he stop, would say terrible cuss words. When de mistress heard\nthem bad words, she would bow her pretty head and walk 'way kinda sad\nlak. It hurt us slaves to see de mistress sad, 'cause us wanted to see\nher smilin' and happy all de time.\n\n\"My mammy worked hard in de field every day and as I was just a small\nboy, I toted water to de hands in de field and fetched wood into de\nkitchen to cook wid. Mammy was de mother of twelve chillun; three of\nthem die when they was babies. I's de oldest of de twelve and has done\nmore hard work than de rest. I had five brothers and all of them is\ndead, 'cept one dat lives in Savannah, Georgia. I has four sisters, one\nliving in Charleston, one in New York City, one in Ithaca, N. Y., and\none in Fairfield County, dis State.\n\n\"Does my folks help me along any? No sir, they sho' don't. I gits\nnothin' from them, and I don't expect nothin' neither. Boss, a nigger's\nkinfolks is worse than a stranger to them; they thinks and acts for\ntheirselves and no one else. I knows I's a nigger and I tries to know my\nplace. If white folks had drapped us long time ago, us would now be next\nto de rovin' beasts of de woods. Slavery was hard I knows but it had to\nbe, it seem lak. They tells me they eats each other in Africa. Us don't\ndo dat and you knows dat is a heap to us.\n\n\"Us had plenty to eat in slavery time. It wasn't de best but it filled\nus up and give us strength 'nough to work. Marster would buy a years\nrations on de first of every year and when he git it, he would have some\ncooked and would set down and eat a meal of it. He would tell us it\ndidn't hurt him, so it won't hurt us. Dats de kind of food us slaves had\nto eat all de year. Of course, us got a heap of vegetables and fruits in\nde summer season, but sich as dat didn't do to work on, in de long\nsummer days.\n\n\"Marster was good, in a way, to his slaves but dat overseer of his name\nJohn Parker, was mean to us sometimes. He was good to some and bad to\nothers. He strung us up when he done de whippin'. My mammy got many\nwhippin's on 'count of her short temper. When she got mad, she would\ntalk back to de overseer, and dat would make him madder than anything\nelse she could do.\n\n\"Marster had over twenty grown slaves all de time. He bought and sold\nthem whenever he wanted to. It was sad times to see mother and chillun\nseparated. I's seen de slave speculator cut de little nigger chillun\nwith keen leather whips, 'cause they'd cry and run after de wagon dat\nwas takin' their mammies away after they was sold.\n\n\"De overseer was poor white folks, if dats what you is askin' 'bout,\nand dat is one thing dat made him so hard on de slaves of de plantation.\nAll de overseers I knowed 'bout was poor white folks; they was white\nfolks in de neighborhood dat wasn't able to own slaves. All dis class of\npeople was called by us niggers, poor white folks.\n\n\"Us slaves had no schoolin', 'cause dere was no teacher and school nigh\nour plantation. I has learnt to read a little since I got grown.\nSpelling come to me natural. I can spell 'most any word I hears, old as\nI is.\n\n\"Marster and mistress was Baptist in 'ligious faith, and b'long to\nConcord Baptist Church. Us slaves was allowed to 'tend dat church, too.\nUs set up in de gallery and jined in de singin' every Sunday. Us slaves\ncould jine Concord Church but Doctor Durham, who was de preacher, would\ntake de slaves in another room from de white folks, and git their\n'fessions, then he would jine them to de church.\n\n\"My daddy was a slave on Reuben Boulware's plantation, 'bout two miles\nfrom Marster Hunter's place. He would git a pass to come to see mammy\nonce every week. If he come more than dat he would have to skeedaddle\nthrough de woods and fields from de patrollers. If they ketched him\nwidout a pass, he was sho' in for a skin crackin' whippin'. He knowed\nall dat but he would slip to see mammy anyhow, whippin' or not.\n\n\"Most them there patrollers was poor white folks, I believes. Rich folks\nstay in their house at night, 'less they has some sort of big frolic\namongst theirselves. Poor white folks had to hustle 'round to make a\nliving, so, they hired out theirselves to slave owners and rode de roads\nat night and whipped niggers if they ketched any off their plantation\nwidout a pass. I has found dat if you gives to some poor folks, white\nor black, something a little better than they is used to, they is sho'\ngwine to think too high of theirselves soon, dats right. I sho' believes\ndat, as much as I believes I's setting in dis chair talkin' to you.\n\n\"I 'members lak yesterday, de Yankees comin' 'long. Marster tried to\nhide the best stuff on de plantation but some of de slaves dat helped\nhim hide it, showed de Yankee soldiers just where it was, when they come\ndere. They say: 'Here is de stuff, hid here, 'cause us put it dere.'\nThen de soldiers went straight to de place where de valuables was hid\nand dug them out and took them, it sho' set old marster down. Us slaves\nwas sorry dat day for marster and mistress. They was gittin' old, and\nnow they had lost all they had, and more that dat, they knowed their\nslaves was set free. De soldiers took all de good hosses, fat cattle,\nchickens, de meat in de smoke house, and then burnt all empty houses.\nThey left de ones dat folks lived in. De Yankees 'pear to me, to be\nlookin' for things to eat, more than anything else.\n\n\"Does I believe in 'ligion? Dat is all us has in dis world to live by\nand it's gwine to be de onliest thing to die wid. Belief in God and a\n'umble spirit is how I's tryin' to live these days. I was christened\nfust a Methodist, but when I growed up, I jine de Presbyterian Church\nand has 'mained a member of dat church every since.\n\n\"Thank God I's had 'nough sense not to believe in haunts and sich\nthings. I has 'possum hunt at night by myself in graveyards and I ain't\nseen one yet. My mammy say she see haunts pass her wid no heads but\nthese old eyes has never seen anything lak dat. If you has done somebody\na terrible wrong, then I believes dat person when they die, will 'pear\nto you on 'count of dat.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Folklore\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n Feb. 7, 1938\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n REMINISCENCES: THE RED SHIRTS\n [~HW: Boy~]\n\n\n\"The Red Shirts had a big parade and barbecue in Spartanburg. They met\nat the courthouse. There were about 500 Red Shirts, besides others who\nmade up a big crowd. I remember four leaders who came from Union County.\nOne of the companies was led by Squire Gilliam Jeter, and one by Squire\nBill Lyles. The company from the city was led by Capt. James Douglass\nand 'Buck' Kelley from Pea Ridge was there with his company.\n\n\"Everything drilled in Spartanburg that day. The speakers of the day\nfrom Union were Squire Jeter and Capt. Douglass. While they were\nspeaking, old Squire George Tucker from lower Fish Dam came with his\ncompany. Mr. Harrison Sartor, father of Will Sartor, was one of the\ncaptains. We saw Gen. Wade Hampton and old man Ben Tillman there.\n\n\"About this time I was bound out to Mr. Jim Gregory, a blacksmith. The\nwealthy landlords bought negroes. Mr. Jim Gregory was the blacksmith for\nold Johnny Meador and Aunt Polly, his wife. He told me that Uncle Johnny\nbought a man, Heath, for $3,500. He also bought Heath's wife, Morrow,\nfor Aunt Polly, but I don't know what he paid. The Meador house is just\nthis side of Simstown. Aunt Polly's father, Triplett Meador, built that\nmansion. The brick were made in a home kiln which was near the house.\nAunt Polly was a little girl when the house was built. While the brick\nfor the sitting-room fireplace were still wet, he made little Polly step\non each one of them to make the impression of her feet. So those foot\nprints in that fireplace are Aunt Polly's when she was five years old.\nShe grew up there and married, and lived there until her death.\n\n\"Miss Ida Knight's house (formerly the Sims house) was built not later\nthan 1840. Dr. Thompson lived there first. Dr. Billy Sims married Dr.\nThompson's sister, Miss Patsy, and that is how the house got into the\nSims family. The old post office was known as Simstown, and I believe it\nwas up near the Nat Gist mansion. Simstown was the name for the river\ncommunity for years, because the Sims settled there and they were\nequally or more prominent than the Thompsons and Gists in that\ncommunity. All the Sims men were country doctors.\n\n\"To this community at the close of the Confederate War, came old man\nOgle Tate, his wife, and Ben Shell, as refugees, fleeing from the\nYankees. When they came into the community, Nat Gist gave them a nice\nhouse to live in on his plantation.\n\n\"Mr. Gregory got all the sheet iron used on the Meador and Gist\nplantations, and also on the Sims and Thompson plantations. Plows were\nmade in his blacksmith shop from 10 inch sheet iron. The sheet was\nheated and beaten into shape with his hammer. After cooling, the tools\ncould be sharpened. Horse and mule shoes were made from slender iron\nrods, bought for that purpose. They were called 'slats', and this grade\nof iron was known as 'slat iron'. The shoe was moulded while hot, and\nbeaten into the correct shape to fit the animal's foot. Those old shoes\nfit much better than the store-bought ones of more recent days. The\nhorseshoe nails were made there, too. In fact, every farm implement of\niron was made from flat or sheet iron.\n\n\"I spun the first pants that I wore. Ma sewed them for me, and wove and\nfinished them with her hands. She made the thread that they were sewed\nwith by hand on the loom. I made cloth for all my shirts. I wore\nhome-made cotton underwear in summer and winter, for we were poor. Of\ncourse my winter clothes were heavier.\n\n\"We raised some sheep, and the winter woolens were made from the wool\nsheared from the sheep every May. Wool was taken to the factory at\nBivensville and there made into yarn. Often, cotton was swapped for yarn\nto warp at home. Then ma ran it off on spools for her loom. 'Sleigh\nhammers' were made from cane gotten off the creek banks and bottoms.\n\n\"Aunt Polly Meador had no patrollers on her place. She would not allow\none there, for she did her own patrolling with her own whip and two bull\ndogs. She never had an overseer on her place, either. Neither did she\nlet Uncle Johnny do the whipping. Those two dogs held them and she did\nher own whipping. One night she went to the quarter and found old 'Bill\nPea Legs' there after one of her negro women. He crawled under the bed\nwhen he heard Aunt Polly coming. Those dogs pulled old 'Pea Legs' out\nand she gave him a whipping that he never forgot. She whipped the woman,\nalso.\n\n\"Morg was Morrow's nickname. Morg used to sit on the meat block and cut\nthe meat for Aunt Polly to give out. Morg would eat her three pounds of\nraw meat right there. Uncle Johnny asked her what she would do all the\nweek without any meat, she said that she would take the skin and grease\nher mouth every morning; then go on to the field or house and do her\nwork, and wait until the next Saturday for more.\n\n\"I do not know how old I am, but I well remember when Wheeler's men came\nto the plantation. They tore up everything. We heard that they were\ncoming, so we dug holes and buried the meat and everything we could. We\nhid them so well that we could never find some of them ourselves.\nWheeler and 36 men stopped on the Dick Jeter place. I think that was in\n1864. The Jeter place touched Miss Polly's plantation. The Jeter place\nwas right near Neal Shoals on Broad River. Mr. Jeter had the biggest gin\nhouse in the entire township. Old Mr. Dick was at home because he was\ntoo old to go to the war. Pa was still in the war then, of course. Ma\nand I and one of the other children and a few darkies were at our home.\n\n\"We saw Wheeler and his men when they stopped at that gin house. They\nbegan to ransack immediately. Wheeler gave some orders to his men and\ngalloped off towards our house. The negroes ran but ma and I stayed in\nthe house. Wheeler rode up in front of the door and spoke to my mother.\nHe said that he had to feed his men and horses and asked her where the\ncorn was. She told him that the gin house and the crib which contained\nthe corn did not belong to her, so she could not give him the keys. At\nthat he ordered his men to remove a log from the crib. By this means\nthey broke into the crib and got all the corn. They then ransacked the\nhouse and took everything there was to eat. They tore out the big cog\nwheel in the gin and camped in it for the night. Next morning they set\nfire to the gin and then galloped away. Soon Mr. Jeter's big gin had\ngone up in flames. They took all of our corn and all of the fodder, 200\nbundles that we had in the barn, away with them.\"\n\n Source: Mr. John Boyd, County Home, Union, R. F. D.\n Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. 1/26/38\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n May 24, 1937\n Edited by: Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in Newberry County, near the Laurens County line, above\nLittle River. Me and my mother belonged to the Workman family.\nAfterwards, I belonged to Madison Workman. He was a good man to his\nslaves. My work was around the house and home. I was too young to work\nin the fields until after the war.\n\n\"I can't remember much about them times. I married there and soon after\ncome to town and lived, where I have worked ever since. I do washing and\nother work.\n\n\"On the farm, the old folks had to cook outdoors, or in a kitchen away\noff from the house. They had wide fireplaces where they put their pots\nto cook the meals.\n\n\"I remember the old Little River Presbyterian Church where people would\ngo on Sundays. They would go in the mornings, and again in the\nafternoons and have preaching.\"\n\n Source: Jane Bradley (80), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. May 17, 1937\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n ANDY BRICE\n EX-SLAVE 81 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nAndy Brice lives with his wife and two small children, about twelve\nmiles east of Ridgeway, S. C., in a two-room frame building, chimney in\nthe center. The house is set in a little cluster of pines one hundred\nand fifty yards north of state highway #34. Andy, since the amputation\nof his right leg five years ago, has done no work and is too old to\nlearn a trade. He has a regular beggar's route including the towns of\nRidgeway, Winnsboro, Woodward, and Blackstock. His amiability and good\nnature enable him to go home after each trip with a little money and a\npack of miscellaneous gifts from white friends.\n\n\"Howdy Cap'n! I come to Winnsboro dis mornin' from way 'cross Wateree,\nwhere I live now 'mongst de bull-frogs and skeeters. Seem lak they just\nsing de whole night thru: 'De bull-frog on de bank, and de skeeter in de\npool.' Then de skeeter sail 'round my face wid de tra la, la la la, la\nla la part of dat old song you is heard, maybe many times.\n\n\"I see a spit-box over dere. By chance, have you got any 'bacco? Make me\nmore glib if I can chew and spit; then I 'members more and better de\nthings done past and gone.\n\n\"I was a slave of Mistress Jane. Her was a daughter of old Marster\nWilliam Brice. Her marry Henry Younge and mammy was give to Marse Henry\nand Miss Jane.\n\n\"My pappy name Tony. Mammy name Sallie. You is seen her a many a day.\nMarse Henry got kilt in de war. His tombstone and Mistress Jane's\ntombstone am in Concord Cemetery. They left two chillun, Miss Kittie and\nMiss Maggie. They both marry a Caldwell; same name but no kin. Miss\nKittie marry Marse Joe Caldwell and move to Texas. Miss Maggie marry\nMarse Camel Caldwell and move to North Carolina.\n\n\"My pappy die durin' de war. After freedom, mammy marry a ugly, no\n'count nigger name Mills Douglas. She had one child by him, name Janie.\nMy mammy name her dat out of memory and love for old mistress, in\nslavery time. I run away from de home of my step-pappy and got work wid\nMajor Thomas Brice. I work for him 'til I become a full grown man and\ncome to be de driver of de four-hoss wagon.\n\n\"One day I see Marse Thomas a twistin' de ears on a fiddle and rosinin'\nde bow. Then he pull dat bow 'cross de belly of dat fiddle. Sumpin' bust\nloose in me and sing all thru my head and tingle in my fingers. I make\nup my mind, right then and dere, to save and buy me a fiddle. I got one\ndat Christmas, bless God! I learn and been playin' de fiddle ever since.\nI pat one foot while I playin'. I kept on playin' and pattin' dat foot\nfor thirty years. I lose dat foot in a smash up wid a highway accident\nbut I play de old tunes on dat fiddle at night, dat foot seem to be dere\nat de end of dat leg (indicating) and pats just de same. Sometime I\nketch myself lookin' down to see if it have come back and jined itself\nup to dat leg, from de very charm of de music I makin' wid de fiddle and\nde bow.\n\n\"I never was very popular wid my own color. They say behind my back, in\n'76, dat I's a white folks nigger. I wear a red shirt then, drink red\nliquor, play de fiddle at de 'lection box, and vote de white folks\nticket. Who I marry? I marry Ellen Watson, as pretty a ginger cake\nnigger as ever fried a batter cake or rolled her arms up in a wash tub.\nHow I git her? I never git her; dat fiddle got her. I play for all de\nwhite folks dances down at Cedar Shades, up at Blackstock. De money roll\nin when someone pass 'round de hat and say: 'De fiddler?' Ellen had more\nbeaux 'round her than her could shake a stick at but de beau she lak\nbest was de bow dat could draw music out of them five strings, and draw\nmoney into dat hat, dat jingle in my pocket de nex' day when I go to see\nher.\n\n\"I 'members very little 'bout de war, tho' I was a good size boy when de\nYankees come. By instint, a nigger can make up his mind pretty quick\n'bout de creed of white folks, whether they am buckra or whether they am\nnot. Every Yankee I see had de stamp of poor white trash on them. They\nstrutted 'round, big Ike fashion, a bustin' in rooms widout knockin',\ntalkin' free to de white ladies, and familiar to de slave gals,\nransackin' drawers, and runnin' deir bayonets into feather beds, and\ninto de flower beds in de yards.\n\n\"What church I b'long to? None. Dat fiddle draws down from hebben all de\nsermons dat I understan'. I sings de hymns in de way I praise and\nglorify de Lord.\n\n\"Cotton pickin' was de biggest work I ever did, outside of drivin' a\nwagon and playin' de fiddle. Look at them fingers; they is supple. I\ncarry two rows of cotton at a time. One week I pick, in a race wid\nothers, over 300 pounds a day. Commencin' Monday, thru Friday night, I\npick 1,562 pounds cotton seed. Dat make a bale weighin' 500 pounds, in\nde lint.\n\n\"Ellen and me have one child, Sallie Ann. Ellen 'joy herself; have a\ngood time nussin' white folks chillun. Nussed you; she tell me 'bout it\nmany time. 'Spect she mind you of it very often. I knows you couldn't\ngit 'round dat woman; nobody could. De Lord took her home fifteen years\nago and I marry a widow, Ida Belton, down on de Kershaw County side.\n\n\"You wants me to tell 'bout dat 'lection day at Woodward, in 1878? You\nwants to know de beginnin' and de end of it? Yes? Well, you couldn't wet\ndis old man's whistle wid a swallow of red liquor now? Couldn't you or\ncould you? Dis was de way of it: It was set for Tuesday. Monday I drive\nde four-hoss wagon down to dis very town. Marse John McCrory and Marse\nEd Woodward come wid me. They was in a buggy. When us got here, us got\ntwenty, sixteen shooters and put them under de hay us have in de wagon.\nBar rooms was here. I had fetched my fiddle 'long and played in Marse\nFred Habernick's bar 'til dinner time. Us leave town 'bout four o'clock.\nRoads was bad but us got home 'bout dark. Us put de guns in Marse Andy\nMobley's store. Marse Ed and me leave Marse John to sleep in de store\nand to take care of de guns.\n\n\"De nex' mornin', polls open in de little school house by de brick\nchurch. I was dere on time, help to fix de table by de window and set de\nballot boxes on it. Voters could come to de window, put deir arms thru\nand tuck de vote in a slit in de boxes. Dere was two supervisors, Marse\nThomas for de Democrats and Uncle Jordan for de Radicals. Marse Thomas\nhad a book and a pencil, Uncle Jordan had de same.\n\n\"Joe Foster, big buckra nigger, want to vote a stranger. Marse Thomas\nchallenge dis vote. In them times colored preachers so 'furiate de\nwomen, dat they would put on breeches and vote de 'Publican radical\nticket. De stranger look lak a woman. Joe Foster 'spute Marse Thomas'\nword and Marse Thomas knock him down wid de naked fist. Marse Irish\nBilly Brice, when him see four or five hindred blacks crowdin' 'round\nMarse Thomas, he jump thru de window from de inside. When he lit on de\nground, pistol went off pow! One nigger drop in his tracks. Sixteen men\ncome from nowhere and sixteen, sixteen shooters. Marse Thomas hold up\nhis hand to them and say: 'Wait!' Him point to de niggers and say:\n'Git.' They start to runnin' 'cross de railroad, over de hillside and\nnever quit runnin' 'til they git half a mile away. De only niggers left\non dat ground was me, old Uncle Kantz, (you know de old mulatto,\nclub-foot nigger) well, me and him and Albert Gladney, de hurt nigger\ndat was shot thru de neck was de only niggers left. Dr. Tom Douglas took\nde ball out Albert's neck and de white folks put him in a wagon and sent\nhim home. I drive de wagon. When I got back, de white boys was in de\ngraveyard gittin' names off de tombstones to fill out de talley sheets,\ndere was so many votes in de box for de Hampton ticket, they had to vote\nde dead. I 'spect dat was one resurrection day all over South\nCarolina.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Folklore\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n Nov. 10, 1937\n Edited by: Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I is gwine over to Tosch to see Maria. Everybody know Maria. She go by\nRice--Maria Rice. She sont fer me to cure her misery. First, I went from\nmy home in lower Cross Keys, across de Enoree, to see Maria. When I\nreached dar whar she stay, dey tell me dat her daughter over to Tosch.\nDone come and got her.\n\n\"A kind friend dat de Lawd put in my path fetched me back across de\nEnoree and over to Tosch to Maria's gal's house. I is gwine straight\nover dar and lay my hand on Maria and rid her of dat misery dat she sont\nword was ailing her all dis spring. Don't make no diff'uns whar you\nhurts--woman, man or suckling babe--if you believes in de holler of my\nhand, it'll ease you, allus do it. De Bible say so, dat's why it be\ntrue. Ain't gwine to tell you nothing but de truth and de whole truth,\nso help me Jesus. Gone 65 years, I is been born agin dat long; right\nover in Padgett's Creek church, de white folks' church, dat's what de\nLawd tuck my sins away and washed me clean agin wid His blood. Dat's why\nI allus sticks to de truth, I does.\n\n\"Dey all 'lows dat I is gwine on 89, and I has facts to believe it am\ntrue. I 'longed to Marse Jesse Briggs. Did you know dat it was two Jesse\nBriggs? Yes sir, sho was two Jesse Briggses.\n\n\"What I gwine to relate to you is true, but in respect to my old Marse,\nand in de case dat dem what reads dat book won't understand, you needs\nnot to write dis statement down. My marster was called 'Black Jesse',\nbut de reason fer dat was to keep him from gitting mixed up wid de other\nJesse. Dat is de secret of de thing. Now dat's jes' fer your own light\nand knowledge, and not to be wrote down. He was de blacksmith fer all de\nCross Keys section, and fer dat very thing he got de name by everybody,\n'Black Jesse'. I allus 'longed to dat man and he was de kindest man what\nde countryside had knowledge of.\n\n\"In Union County is whar I was born and raised, and it's whar I is gwine\nto be buried. Ain't never left de county but once in my life, and if de\nLawd see fitten, I ain't gwine to leave it no mo', 'cept to reach de\nPromise Land. Lawd! Lawd! De Promise Land, dat's whar I is gwine when I\nleaves Union County. Dey carried me a hundred miles to cure a sick\nwoman, onliest time I ever left Union County. I loves it and I is fit\nthroughout and enduring de time dem Yankees tried to git de county, to\nsave it. What is I gwine to leave it fer? Mr. Perrin and all de white\nfolks is good to me since my marse done gone and left his earthly home.\nAnd he is waiting up dar wid Missie to see me agin. Dat I is sho of.\n\n\"Listen brother, de Lawd is setting on His throne in Glory. He hear\nevery word dat I gwine to tell you. Folks fergits dat when dey talks\nreal often sometimes, don't dey? I put my hand on any 'flux' man or\nwoman and removes de pain, if dey have faith in my hand. I don't tell\nnothing but de truth. I was born on Gist Briggs' plantation in Union\nCounty, in de lower section of Cross Keys. Marse Sexton and all dem good\nfolks in lower Keys says dat I sho is 88. Give my name right flat, it's\nGeorge Briggs; giving it round, it like dis, George McDuffie Briggs. My\npapa's name was Ike Wilburn, and my mother's name was Margaret Briggs.\nPa 'longed to Marse Lige Wilburn. Mama 'longed to Jesse (Black Jesse)\nBriggs. Dey both born and raised in Union County. Dese was my brothers\nand sisters, coming in de order dey was born to my parents in: Charlie,\nDave, Aaron, Tom, Noah, Charlotte, Polly, Fannie, Mattie, Horace,\nCassie. I'm de oldest, and Cassie and me lives in Union County. Fannie\nand Mattie lives in Asheville, and de rest is done journeyed to de\nPromise Land. Yes Lawd, to de Promise Land.\n\n\"Marse and Missus was good to us all. Missus name was Nancy. She die\nearly and her grave is in Cross Keys at de Briggs graveyard. Be still!\nLemme git my mind together so dat I don't git mixed up and can git you\nde Briggses together. Here 'tis: Cheney and Lucindy, Lucindy married a\nFloyd from Spartanburg, and de Floyds lived at de Burn't factory. Cheney\nBriggs had a son, Henry Briggs.\n\n\"Not so fast, fer I'se gwine to start way back, dat time when us was\nlil' darky boys way back in slavery. We started to work wid de marster's\nmules and hosses. When us was real little, we played hoss. Befo' Cheney\nBriggs went to Arkansas he was our play hoss. His brother, Henry, was de\nwagoner and I was de mule. Henry was little and he rid our backs\nsometimes. Henry rid old man Sam, sometimes, and old man Sam jes' holler\nand haw haw at us chilluns. Dis was in sech early childhood dat it is\nnot so I can 'zactly map out de exact age us was den; anyway, from dis\nwe rid de gentle hosses and mules and larn't how to feed dem. Every word\ndat I tells you is de truth, and I is got to meet dat word somewhars\nelse; and fer dat reason, de truth is all dat dis old man ever tells.\n\n\"In dat day we lived in a log cabin or house. Sometimes us never had\nnothing to do. Our house had only one room, but some of de houses had\ntwo rooms. Our'n had a winder, a do', and a common fireplace. Now dey\nmakes a fireplace to scare de wood away. In old days dey made fireplaces\nto take care of de chilluns in de cold weather. It warm de whole house,\n'cause it was so big and dar was plenty wood. Wood wasn't no problem\nden, and it ain't no problem yet out in de lower Keys. In town it is,\nand I ain't guessing. I done seed so.\n\n\"I sho can histronize de Confederates. I come along wid de Secession\nflag and de musterings. I careful to live at home and please de Marse.\nIn de war, I'se mo' dan careful and I stick close to him and please him,\nand he mo' dan good. Us did not git mobbed up like lots of dem did.\n\n\"When Tice Myers' chilluns was born, he had a house built wid a\nup-stairs. But never no stage coach stopped dar as I ever heard tell\nabout, and I done saw 75 years at Padgett's Creek.\n\n\"Way 'tis, from de bundle of de heart, de tongue speaketh. Been in\nservice reg'lar since Monday. I went to Neal Greege's house but she\nwasn't dar. I is speaking 'bout Ria (Maria Rice). She done gone to town.\nAt de highway, de Lawd prepared a friend to carry me to Union, and when\nI got dar I take and lay hands on Ria Rice, she laying down and\nsuffering, and I sot down and laid my hand on her. We never say nothing,\njes' pray. She be real quiet, and atter while, she riz up and take a\nbreath. She kept on a setting up fer so long dat her husband make her\nlay back down fer fear dat she git worser. I stay dar all through de\nnight and she sleep sound and wake up dis morning feeling like a new\nwoman.\n\n\"Befo' breakfast, here is de words of praise I lifted to de Lawd, over\ndar on Tosch. You set down de coser (chorus): 'First to de graveyard;\nden to de Jedgement bar!' Is you got dat verser (verses)? Den git dis:\n'All de deacons got to go; all de members got to go; all de sinners got\nto go.' Mo' 'longs to it, but dat's all I takes when I is praising Him\nfer relieving pain through me. (He sings each line five times. He takes\noff his hat; bows; holds his hands over his head, and closes his eyes\nwhile singing. His hair is snow white.)\n\n\"Lawd, help me dis morning! Here's another first line to one of our\nsongs: 'All dem preachers got to go'.\n\n\"Nehemiah, when he wid de king, de king axed him to reveal de wall whar\nhis father was buried. Nehemiah did what de king had done axed him. I\n'tends Galilee Baptist church in lower Cross Keys; and at Sedalia, I\ngoes to New Hope Methodist church, but I don't know nothing else but\nBaptist. We peoples is barrence (barren of the Holy Spirit), but not\nGod; He, Hisself, is born of God, and all is of de same source and by\ndat I means de Spirit. All has to be born of de Spirit to become\nchilluns of God. Romans, Chap. 6, 'lows something like dis: 'He dat is\ndead in sin, how is it dat he can continue in sin?' Dat tell us dat\nevery man, white or black, is de child of God. And it is Christ dat is\nburied in baptism, and we shall be buried in like manner. If Christ did\nnot rise, den our preaching is in vain. And if we is not born agin, why\nden we is lost and our preaching is in vain.\n\n\"In picking up de New Testament, consider all dat you hear me arguing\nand saying is from a gift and not from edication. Romans 6, 'lows:\n'Speak plain words, not round words, kaise all de round words is fer dem\ndat is edicated.' Jacob had twelve sons. Dey went and bundled up deir\nwheat, and eleven bundles bowed to de one. Dat Joseph's bundle what he\ndone up. Other brothers up and got and sold Joseph into captivity to de\nEgyptians. Dat throw'd Jacob to send Reuben to Egypt. Den dey bowed to\nJacob and his sons. It run on and on till dey all had to go to Egypt,\nand all of dem had to live under Joseph.\n\n\"When I was a little shaver and come to myself. I was sleeping in a\ncorded bed. (He scratched his head) I jes' studying fer a minute; can't\n'zactly identify my grandpa, but I can identify my grandma. We all\nraised on de same place together. She name Cindy Briggs, but dey call\nher Cina kaise dar was so many Cindys 'round dar. One thing I does\n'member 'bout her, if she tote me, she sho to whip me. I was raised\nstrict.\n\n\"All my life I is stayed in de fur (far) end of Union County whar it\nborders Laurens, wid de Enoree dividing de two counties. It is right dar\ndat I is plowed and hoed and raised my craps fer de past 75 years, I\nreckons. Lawd have mercy! No, I doesn't recalls de names of none of dem\nmules. Dat's so fur back dat I is jes' done forgot, dat's all. But I\ndoes recall 'fur back' things de best, sometimes. Listen good now. When\nI got big and couldn't play 'round at chillun's doings, I started to\nplatting cornshucks and things fer making hoss and mule collars, and\nscouring-brooms and shoulder-mats. I cut hickory poles and make handles\nout of dem fer de brooms. Marse had hides tanned, and us make buggy\nwhips, wagon whips, shoe strings, saddle strings and sech as dat out of\nour home-tanned leather. All de galluses dat was wo' in dem days was\nmade by de darkies.\n\n\"White oak and hickory was split to cure, and we made fish baskets, feed\nbaskets, wood baskets, sewing baskets and all kinds of baskets fer de\nMissus. All de chair bottoms of straight chairs was made from white oak\nsplits, and de straight chairs was made in de shop. You made a scouring\nbrush like dis: (He put his hands together to show how the splits were\nheld) By splitting a width of narrow splits, keep on till you lay a\nentire layer of splits; turn dis way; den dat way, and den bind together\nand dat hold dem like you want dem to stay. Last, you work in a pole as\nlong as you want it fer de handle, and bind it tight and tie wid de\npurtiest knots.\n\n\"I git money fer platting galluses and making boot strings and other\nlittle things. Allus first, I desires to be well qualified wid what I\ndoes. I is gwine to be qualified wid everything dat I does, iffen I does\nit fer money or no. Dat's de reason white people has allus give me words\nof encouragement.\n\n\"Now I gwine to sing a song fer Miss Polly, kaise she de grand-daughter\nof de late Sheriff Long, and I goes to see her grandma at de Keys (Cross\nKeys House). Dar she come now.\n\n\"How is you dis morning, Miss Polly? De Lawd sho does shower you, Miss\nPolly, and dat's de reason I is gwine to sing fer you dis morning.\nYou'll be able to tell Mr. Jimmie (her father) dat Uncle George sing fer\nyou, 'Jesus Listening All De Day Long'.\n\n \"Jesus listening all de day long to hear some sinner pray.\n De winding sheet to wrop (wrap) dis body in,\n De coffin to hold you fast;\n Pass through death's iron do'.\n Come ye dat love de Lawd and let your joy be know'd;\n Dis iron gate you must pass through, if you gwine to be\n Born agin.\"\n\nHe sang these lines over three times and then bowing, said: \"Ain't it\nglory dat we can live whar de Lawd can use us? Dat's power. A strong man\nentereth in; a weak man cometh out. Dat represent Christ gwine into your\nheart.\n\n\"Sho I can remember when dey had de mustering grounds at de Keys. Dar\nday mustered and den dey turn't in and practiced drilling dem soldiers\ntill dey larn't how to march and to shoot de Yankees. Drilling, dat's de\nproper word, not practice, I knows, if I ain't ed'icated. Dey signed me\nto go to de 16th regiment, but I never reached de North. When us got to\nCharleston, us turn't around and de bosses fetched us right back to\nUnion through Columbia. Us heard dat Sherman was coming, fetching fire\nalong 'hind him.\n\n\"Don't know nothing 'bout no militia to make no statement, but it went\non and turn't back. Another regiment had a barbecue somewhars in Union\nCounty befo' it went off to war; might a been de 18th regiment, but I\ndoes not feel dat I can state on dat.\n\n\"My soul reaches from God's foot-stool up to his heavenly home. I can\nhistronize de poor white folks' wives and chilluns enduring de time of\nde Civil War fer you. When dese poor white men went to de war, dey left\ndeir little chillun and deir wives in de hands of de darkies dat was\nkind and de rich wives of our marsters to care fer. Us took de best care\nof dem poor white dat us could under de circumstances dat prevailed.\n\n\"We was sont to Sullivan's Island, but befo' we reached it, de Yankees\ndone got it and we won't 'lowed to cross in '64. But jes' de same, we\nwas in service till dey give Capt. Franklin Bailey 'mission to fetch us\nhome. Dar we had to git 'mission fer everything, jes' as us niggers had\nto git 'mission to leave our marster's place at home in Union County.\nCapt. Bailey come on back to Cross Keys wid us under his protection, and\nwe was under it fer de longest time atter we done got home.\n\n\"Fer 65 years I been licensed as a preacher, and fer longer dan dat I\nbeen a member of Padgett's Creek Baptist church. Mo' work I does, mo'\nwork I has to do. You know how to pray. Well, you does not know how to\nmake polish out of pinders.\n\n\"I ain't ed'icated yet, but even Lige what teaches school out to de Keys\n(de big black school), dat big black buck dat teaches de chilluns deir\n'rithmetic; even he couldn't do dis here one. A heap of ed'icated folks\ncan't give it. Here it is: 'What's de biggest figger in de figger ten?'\"\n\nWith his old black, rough and gnarled forefinger he drew on the table\nthe figure 1. \"Now you see dat? Dat's de figger 1. A naught ain't\nnothing by itself or multiplied by other naughts; but set it down in\nfront of de figger 1, and it takes on de value 9. Dar you is got\nten--one and nine is ten. Dat naught becomes something. I is old, and I\nain't had narry bit of schooling, but I likes to be close to de orchard,\nand I knows it's dar by de smell of it. Dat's de way I is when I gits\nalong side ed'icated folks--I knows dat dey is.\n\n\"It's like dat sum dem scholars couldn't git; standing alone dat naught\nain't worth nothing, but set it up against dat which is of value and it\ntakes on value. Set a naught ag'inst dat which is one and you has ten;\nset up another naught dar and you has a hundred. Now if somebody was to\ngive me a note worth $10, and I found room to add another naught along\nside of de first; den dem two naughts what ain't worth nothing by\ndeirselves gives de note de value of $99 if dey is sot along wid de one.\nEd'icated folks calls dat raising de note. I is ig'nant and I calls dat\nrobbery. And dat's like you and me. We is naughts and Christ is de\n_One_, and we ain't nothing till we carries de Spirit of de Lawd along\nwid us.\n\n\"On de pathway of life, may you allus keep Christ in front of you and\nyou will never go wrong. De Lawd will den see fit to give you a soul dat\nwill reach from His foot-stool here on earth to His dwelling place on\nhigh.\" He ended with a deep sob and good-bye.\n\n Source: George Briggs (88), Union, S. C. RFD 2.\n Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. 6/9/37.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n July 20, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"Some white men called in question today about de reigning governor\nenduring time of de Civil War. I knowed dat, and 'cides dat, I knowed\nhim well. It was Governor 'Bill' as us called him.\n\n\"What you want to git, is history about muster grounds. Yes, it was on\nJones Ferry Road, jest south of Cross Keys whar dey had what dey allus\ncalled de muster field. Now, Jones Ferry Road leads across Enoree River\ninto Laurens County. Enoree River is de thing dat devides Union County\nfrom Laurens County, dat it is.\n\n\"Well as I remember, Mr. Bill Ray was in de mustering of de 18th\nRegiment. Billy, Robert, Sara and Miss Nancy was Mr. Alex's chilluns.\nUnderstand me, don't think dat Bob and Sam was in de Regiment ...\nsatisfied Billy was, kaise he used to pass our house on horse back,\ncoming from de Laurens side where he lived.\n\n\"Sixteen-year-old boys come in de same time dat I did. Course I ain't\ntold all dat I knows, kaise dat wouldn't be proper. All I tell you, I\nwants it to be recognized. De better it's done, de better it'll help\nyou.\n\n\"I goes from home and stays five days or more, and don't nothing happen\nto a thing at my home. I does fer de sick and de Lawd blesses me. He\nlooks atter my things while I am away. He soon shows his presence atter\nI gits dar. He calls fer me and I feeds Him.\n\n\"Once had 26 biles (boils). Dat make me consider my disobedience against\nde Lawd. Den I went to Him in prayer. He told me Satan done got ahead of\nHim. Dat show me dat I done forgot to be particular. I got mo' 'ticular\nand pray mo' often, and in six weeks my biles had done all gone.\n\n\"Dar is times when I gits lost fer not knowing. I can't keep up, kaise I\ncannot read. Man in Sunday school reads and I hears. He read de olden\nTestament; den he read de new Testament. Dat my schooling. I 'clar unto\nyou, I got by all my life by praying and thinking. I sho does think a\nlot. ('Uncle' George's facial and scalp muscles work so when he thinks,\nthat his straw hat moves up and down.)\n\n\"When good man prays fer bad man, de Holy Ghost works on bad man's\nconsciousness, and afo' he knows it, he's a-saying 'Lawd have Mercy'\n'stead of 'G'dam', like all wicked folks says every day. He--dat de Holy\nGhost dat I still is speaking of--jest penetrates de wicked man's\nconsciousness widout him a-knowing it. Dat penetrating make de bad man\nsay, 'Lawd have Mercy.' I hoes and I cuts sprouts, and den I plows. When\nyou plows, mules is allus so aggravating dat dey gits you all ruffled\nup. Dat de devil a-working at you. Dat's all old mules is anyhow. I does\nnot cuss, nohow, kaise it sho am wicked and I is had de Holy Spirit in\nmy soul, now gone sixty-five years, since I jined Padgett Creek Church.\nWhen my old mule gits to de row's end, and he act mulish--kaise dat's in\nhim and he don't know nothing else to do--I means to say either 'ha' or\n'gee', and often since I jined Padgett Creek Church I finds myself\nsaying 'Lawd have Mercy' 'stead of 'gee' or 'ha'. So you see dat de Lawd\nhas command, whar-so-ever if I was wicked, Satan would.\n\n\"A child fo God allus will agree wid de Word of God. We mens dat claim\nto be leaders in de Kingdom, got to step up and sho folks what dey must\ndo. Man learns right smart from Exodus 'bout how to lead. A male child\nwas born to rule de world. Moses still de strongest impression dat we\nhas as rulers. God gits Hisself into de heads of men dat he wants to\nrule and He don't tell nobody else nothing 'bout it neither.\n\n\"Mr. Roosevelt de president and he sho looks atter de po' folks. He\nain't no ig'nant man neither, kaise he got de light. Folks ain't a-gwine\nto drown him out neither wid dere wicked words 'gainst him, kaise he\nstrive in de Lawd's name to do His will. Mr. Roosevelt got learning like\nI is from de throne of God. He may have education also, but if he is, he\nsho knows how to keep dem both jined together. Folks reads to me how he\ngot crippled and how he washed in dem springs in Georgia, and dat keep\nhim a-gwine right on anyhow. It ain't dem springs by deself, but it's\nGod a dipping his hand down dar fer de President to git well. Oh yes,\nsuh, I knows dat he twan't de president when he was a-washing, but dem\nde plans dat de Lawd had done already planned and you and me never\nknow'd nothing 'bout all dat. You and me does not know what is planned\nup in sto' fer us in de future neither.\n\n\"I is a Baptist, and at Padgett's Creek we does not believe in no\nback-sliding. 'Once in de Spirit, allus in de Spirit'. A child of your'n\nis allus a child of your'n. Dat de way de Baptist teach--once a child of\nGod, allus God's child. T'ain't no sech thing as drapping back. If you\ndraps back, you ain't never been no child of de Lawd, and you never had\nno business being baptized. Christ was baptized in de waters of Jordan,\nwon't (weren't) He? Well, He never drapped back, did He? He say we must\nfollow in His footsteps, didn't He? Well, dar you is, and dat's all dar\nis to it.\n\n\"God gits in de heads of men to help de aged and de po' also. I never\naxes fer nothing, but when I sets around de courthouse and informs men\nas I been doing dis evening, de Lawd has dem to drap a nickle or a dime\nor a quarter in my hand but He never gits dem to a half of a dollar.\"\n\n Source: George Briggs, (88) Rt. 2, Union, S. C.\n Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. (7/12/37)\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n July 12, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"What-so-ever I can find! I traveling dat way over 73 years. If he ax de\nLawd and have faith, he ken do; and iffen he don't have no faith, by den\nhe can't. When a man comes along dat wants his own way, and he won't pay\nno attention to de Lawd, by den de Lawd don't pay him no mind; and so\ndat man jest keeps a-gwine on wid his way and he don't never reach de\nCross. Jesus say, 'deny yourself, pick up de Cross and follow Me.'\n\n\"I see a man in de courthouse dis morning, and he was like Nicodemus.\nWhy dat man want to be resto'd back like he was when he was jest 21\nyears old. I seed him setting down dar in Mr. Perrin's office, and I\nknowed his troubles when he 'low dat he done been to every doctor in\ntown. De trouble was, he never had no faith in de doctors and nobody\nelse. How could he have faith in Jesus when he never had none in nothing\nelse? Brother, you has to have faith in your fellowman befo' you has\nfaith in de Lawd. I don't know how come, but dat's de way it is. My plan\nis working by faith. Jesus say, 'Work widout faith ain't nothing; but\nwork wid faith'll move mountains'.\n\n\"Dat man told me he gwine give me a hundred dollars if I rid him of\nmisery. Dat show he never know nothing 'bout faith.\n\n\"If Mr. Emslie Nicholson ax me to rid him of a misery, I couldn't take\nno money from him, and he de richest man in all Union County. Mr.\nNicholson would know better dan to offer me money, kaise he has faith.\nYou know he's a good 'Presmuterian' (Presbyterian).\n\n\"Dey looks at de back of my head, and de hair on it ain't rubbed against\nno college and fer dat reason dese young negroes don't want me to\npreach. Dey wants to hear dat man preach dat can read. Man dat can read\ncan't understand less'n some divine man guide him. I speak as my Teacher\ngives it to me, dat's de Lawd. In so doing, I testify de word dat no man\ncan condemn. Dat is my plan of Salvation: to work by faith widout price\nor purse, as de Lawd, my Teacher has taught me.\n\n\"Dar was no church on our plantation when I was a boy. All de Baptists\nwent to Padgett's Creek, and all de Methodist went to Quaker Church and\nBelmont. Padgett's Creek had a section in de back of de church fer de\nslaves to sit. Quaker Church and Belmont both had slaves' galleries. Dar\nis a big book at Padgetts wid three pages of slaves' names that was\nmembers. Mr. Claude Sparks read it to me last year. All de darky members\ndead, but one, dat's me.\n\n\"Nobody never read de Bible to me when I was little. It jest a gift of\nGod dat teached to me through de Holy Ghost. It's de Spirit of de One in\nThree dat gits into you, and dat's de Holy Ghost or de Holy Spirit dat\ngives me my enlightment.\n\n\"If I can git to de do' of Padgett's Creek Church, I can jest feel de\nPower of God. ('Uncle' George pats his foot and softly cries at this\npoint, and his face takes on a calm and peaceful expression.)\n\n\"If you eats befo' you gits hongry, you never will feast on dead air. I\nmakes it a practice to feed my soul and body befo' dey gits hongry. Even\nI does eat by myself, dis old man take off his hat and ax de Lawd to\nbless his soul and body in nourishment fer de future.\n\n\"I ain't never seed Mr. Lincoln, but from what I learn't dey said dat\nGod had placed in him de revelation to give de plan dat he had fer every\nman. Dat plan fer every man to worship under his own vine and fig tree.\nFrom dat, we should of liked Mr. Lincoln.\n\n\"Dis here 'Dick Look-Up'. No sir, I don't know him, kaise I caught his\nname since I come on dis side of de river. Mr. Perrin knows him, and I\nheard him say dat every time anybody ax him how old he is, he add on ten\nyears. Dat's how come dey got in de paper he a hundred and twenty-five\nyears old. Now me and Mr. Perrin doesn't speak unless we is obleeged to\nknow dat what we is gwine to say is de truth. Us is careful, kaise us\nknows dat de Lawd am looking down from his throne, and dat He is\nchecking every word dat we says. Some folks does not recall dat fact\nwhen dey speaks, or dey would be careful.\n\n\"I'll say it slow so dat you can catch it; I start in time of de\nConfederate War. Wid dirt dug up out of de smokehouse, water was run\nthrough it so us could get salt fer bread. Hickory wood ashes was used\nfer soda. If we didn't have no hickory wood, we burnt red corn cobs; and\nde ashes from dem was used fer cooking soda.\n\n\"Molasses was made from watermelons in time of de war. Dey was also made\nfrom May-apples or may-pops as some call dem, and sometimes dey was made\nfrom persimmons and from wheat brand. In Confederate days, Irish potato\ntops was cooked fer vegetables. Blackberry leaves was ocassionally used\nfer greens or fer seasoning lambs quarters.\n\n\"Dis way watermelon was done: Soak watermelon twenty and four hours to\nde'self; strain off all juice and put on fire to bile. When dey thickens\ndey bees good. Yes sir, good, good.\n\n\"Wid may-pops: peel de outside green off, den bust 'em open and mash up\ntogether; strain juice off and cook thick.\n\n\"'Simmons and wheat bran are mashed up together and baked in water. Let\nset twenty and four hours and cook down to molasses. Dat winds up dat\npart of it.\n\n\"Git plums and blackberries and de like of dat and make up in Jelly, or\ncan fer scarce times, dat's de way we done den and folks does dat yet.\nDese is some of de particularest things of de Confederate times dat I\ncome back from Sedalia to give you, dat's right. (This old negro, who\nhad already been interviewed by the writer, came a long way and\nlooked-up the author to tell him some incidents which he had forgotten\nto tell in the first interview.) Some customs is done went by now, but\ndey was practiced in Sedalia, and as to whar dem was done fer off as\nSpartanburg, I cannot say.\n\n\"In Confederate time, all wimmens stayed close home and carded and spun\nall de day long. Dey wove all dere own clothes. Men at home, old men,\nmade leather shoes and shoe strings and belts and galloses.\n\n\"Our darkies tried hard to be obedient to our master so dat we might\nobtain (keep) our pleasant home. Obedience makes it better dan\nsacrifice. I restes my mind dar.\"\n\n Source: George Briggs (88), Rt. 2, Union, S. C.\n Interviewed by: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. (7/7/37)\n\n\n\n\n Code No.\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, January 27, 1938\n No. Words ----\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n JOSEPHINE BRISTOW\n Ex-Slave, 73 Years\n\n\n\"Remembers de Confederate War, Miss. Yes, mam, I'm supposed to be, if I\ncan live to see February, bout 73 year old. What age Hester say she was?\nDat what I had thought from me en her conversation. Miss, I don'\nremember a thing more bout de war den de soldiers comin through old\nMassa's plantation en we chillun was 'fraid of dem en ran. Knew dey was\ndressed in a different direction from us white folks. All was in blue,\nyou know, wid dem curious lookin hats en dem brass buttons on dey\nbodies. No, mam, dey didn' stop nowhe' bout us. Dey was ridin on horses\nen it seem like dey was in a hurry gwine somewhe'. En dey didn' stop to\nold Massa's house neither. No, mam, not to my knowin, dey didn'. Well,\nwe was livin out to de plantation, we calls it, en Massa en Missus was\nlivin up here to Marion. Mr. Ferdinand Gibson, dat who been us Massa in\nslavery time en Miss Connie, dat what we used to call her, was us\nMissus. To my knowin, dey didn' have no chillun dey own, but dey sho had\nplenty colored people. Yes, mam, seems like to my remembrance, my Massa\nran bout 30 plantations en 'sides dat, he had a lot of servants right up\nhere to de big house, men en women.\"\n\n\"I was real small in dem days en far as I can remember, we lived on de\nquarter dere to old Massa's plantation in de country. Us little tots\nwould go every mornin to a place up on de hill, called de milk house, en\nget our milk 'tween meals while de old folks was off workin. Oh, dey had\na old woman to see after we chillun en tend to us in de daytime. De old\nlady dat looked after us, her name was Mary Novlin. Lord, Mr. Gibson, he\nhad big farms en my mother en father, dey worked on de farms. Yes'um, my\nmother en father, I used to never wouldn' know when dey come home in de\nevenin, it would be so late. De old lady, she looked after every blessed\nthing for us all day long en cooked for us right along wid de mindin.\nWell, she would boil us corn meal hominy en give us dat mostly wid milk\nfor breakfast. Den dey would have a big garden en she would boil peas en\ngive us a lot of soup like dat wid dis here oven bread. Oh, dem what\nworked in de field, dey would catch dey meals when dey could. Would have\nto cook way in de night or sometimes fore day. Cose dey would take dey\ndinner rations wid dem to de field. More or less, dey would cook it in\nde field. Yes'um, dey would carry dey pots wid dem en cook right dere in\nde field whe' dey was workin. Would boil pots en make bread, too. I don'\nknow how long dey had to work, mam, but I hear dem say dat dey worked\nhard, cold or hot, rain or shine. Had to hoe cotton en pick cotton en\nall such as dat. I don' know, mam, but de white folks, I guess dey took\nit dat dey had plenty colored people en de Lord never meant for dem to\ndo no work. You know, white folks in dem days, dey made de colored\npeople do.\"\n\n\"De people used to spin en weave, my Lord! Like today, it cloudy en\nrainy, dey couldn' work in de field en would have to spin dat day. Man,\nyou would hear dat thing windin en I remember, I would stand dere en\nwant to spin so bad, I never know what to do. Won' long fore I got to\nwhe' I could use de shuttle en weave, too. I bad a grandmother en when\nshe would get to dat wheel, she sho know what she been doin. White folks\nused to give de colored people task to spin en I mean she could do dat\nspinnin. Yes'um, I here to tell you, dey would make de prettiest cloth\nin dat day en time. Old time people used to have a kind of dye dey\ncalled indigo en dey would color de cloth just as pretty as you ever did\nsee.\"\n\n\"Den I recollects dat dey would have to shuck corn some of de days en\nwouldn' nobody work in de field dat day. Oh, my Lord, dey would have de\nbig eats on dem days. Would have a big pot right out to de barn whe' dey\nwas shuckin corn en would boil it full as it could hold wid such as peas\nen rice en collards. Would cook big bread, too, en would save a hog's\nhead for dat purpose often times.\"\n\n\"Colored people didn' have no schools nowhe' in dat day en time. No'um,\nus didn' go to no church neither cause we was way off dere on de\nplantation en wasn' any church nowhe' bout dere, Miss. I likes to be\ntruthful en I tellin you, when we was comin up, we never didn' know\nnothin 'cept what we catch from de old folks.\"\n\n\"Old Massa, he used to come to de plantation drivin his rockaway en my\nLord a mercy, we chillun did love to run en meet him. Dey used to have a\ngreat big gate to de lane of de plantation en when we been hear him\ncomin, we would go a runnin en holler, 'Massa comin! Massa comin!' En he\nwould come ridin through de big gate en say, 'Yonder my little niggers!\nHow my little niggers? Come here en tell me how you all.' Den we would\ngo a runnin to him en try to tell him what he ax us. Yes'um, we was sho\npleased to see old Massa cause we had to stay right dere on dat\nplantation all de time round bout dat old woman what tended to us. Used\nto hear my mother en my father speak bout dey had to get a ticket from\ndey boss to go anywhe' dey wanted to go off de place. Pataroller catch\ndem off de plantation somewhe' widout dat walkin ticket, dey would whip\ndem most to death. Never didn' hear bout old Massa whippin none of dem,\nbut he was very tight on dem, my father say. Cose he give dem abundance\nof rations en somethin to eat all de time, but colored people sho been\nwork for what dey would get in dem days. Didn' get nothin dey never pay\nfor. It been like dis, what rations us parents would get, dat would be\nto dey house en what we chillun been get would be to de old woman's\nhouse what took care of us.\"\n\n\"Well, Miss, some people stays here wid me, but dey works out en I tries\nto help dem out somehow. No, mam, we all stays right here together en\nwhile dey on de job, I tries to look out for de chillun. I just thinkin\nbout when we come to a certain age, honey, it tough. Chillun is a heap\nof trouble, I say. Well, I was de mother of five, but dey all dead 'cept\none. My husband, he been dead seven years. Yes'um, dis a bad little girl\nsettin here in my lap en dat one over dere in de bed, he a boy what a\nright smart larger den dis one.\" (Little girl just can stand alone).\n(Little boy wakes up). \"Son, dere you wantin to get up en I don' know\nwhe' near a rag to put on you is. Dere, you want a piece of bread fore\nyou is dress. Who undressed you last night nohow? Boy, you got to stand\ndere en wait till your mamma come home cause I can' find none your rags.\nWhat de matter wid you? You so hungry, you just standin dere wid your\nmouth droolin dat way. Dere your bread en tea on de bureau. Gwine on en\nget it.\" (Little boy's breakfast consisted of a cold biscuit and a\nlittle cold coffee poured in an empty coffee can. The little girl sat\nwith a clump of cold hominy in her hand on which she nibbled.)\n\n\"Lord, I think what a blessin it would be if chillun dese days was raise\nlike dey used to be, Miss. Yes, mam, we had what you call strict fathers\nen mothers den, but chillun ain' got dem dese days. Oh, dey would whip\nyou en put de lash to you in dat day en time. Yes'um, Miss, if we never\ndo right, my father would put it to us. Sho meant what he say. Wouldn'\nnever whip you on Sunday though. Say dat he would get you tomorrow. Den\nwhen Monday come, he would knock all bout like he had forget, but\ntoreckly he would call you up en he would sho work on you. Pa say, 'I'm\nnot gwine let you catch me in no lie. When I tell you I gwine cut you, I\ngwine do it.' Miss, I is had my mother to hurt me so bad till I would\njust fall down en roll in de sand. Hurt! Dey hurt, dat dey did. Wouldn'\nwhip you wid no clothes on neither. Would make you pull off. Yes, mam, I\ncould sniffle a week, dey been cut me such licks. Thought dey had done\nme wrong, but dey know dey ain' been doin me wrong en I mean dey didn'\nplay wid me.\"\n\n\"Miss, I think folks is livin too fast in de world today. Seems to me\nlike all de young people is worser, I say. Well, I tell you, dey be\nridin out all times of night en girls meetin up wid Miss Fortune. At\nleast, our colored girls does. En don' care what dey do neither. Don'\nseem to care what dey do nor how dey do. De girls nowadays, dey gets dey\nlivin. Girls settin higher den what dey makes demselves dese days.\"\n\n Source: Josephine Bristow, colored, 73 years, Marion, S. C.\n Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Jan., 1938\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n ANNE BROOME\n EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"Does you recollect de Galloway place just dis side of White Oak? Well\ndere's where I was born. When? Can't name de 'zact year but my ma say,\nno stork bird never fetch me but de fust railroad train dat come up de\nrailroad track, when they built de line, fetched me. She say I was a\nbaby, settin' on de cow-ketcher, and she see me and say to pa: 'Reubin,\nrun out dere and get our baby befo' her falls off and gets hurt under\nthem wheels! Do you know I believed dat tale 'til I was a big girl? Sure\ndid, 'til white folks laugh me out of it!\n\n\"My ma was name Louisa. My marster was Billie Brice, but 'spect God done\nwrite sumpin' else on he forehead by dis time. He was a cruel marster;\nhe whip me just for runnin' to de gate for to see de train run by. My\nmissus was a pretty woman, flaxen hair, blue eyes, name Mary Simonton,\n'til she marry.\n\n\"Us live in a two-room plank house. Plenty to eat and enough to wear\n'cept de boys run 'round in their shirt tails and de girls just a\none-piece homespun slip on in de summer time. Dat was not a hardship\nthen. Us didn't know and didn't care nothin' 'bout a 'spectable\n'pearance in those days. Dats de truth, us didn't.\n\n\"Gran'pa name Obe; gran'ma, name Rachel. Shoes? A child never have a\nshoe. Slaves wore wooden bottom shoes.\n\n\"My white folks went to New Hope Church. Deir chillun was mighty good to\nus all. Dere was Miss Martha, her marry Doctor Madden, right here at\nWinnsboro. Miss Mary marry Marster John Vinson, a little polite smilin'\nman, nice man, though. Then Miss Jane marry Marster John Young. He\npassed out, leavin' two lovely chillun, Kitty and Maggie. Both of them\nmarry Caldwells. Dere was Marster Calvin, he marry Congressman Wallace's\ndaughter, Ellen. Then dere was Marster Jim and Marster William, de last\nwent to Florida.\n\n\"It was a big place, I tell you, and heaps and heaps of slaves. Some\ntimes they git too many and sell them off. My old mistress cry 'bout dat\nbut tears didn't count wid old marster, as long as de money come a\nrunnin' in and de rations stayed in de smoke house.\n\n\"Us had a fine carriage. Sam was de driver. Us go to Concord one Sunday\nand new Hope de next. Had quality fair neighbors. Dere was de\nCockerells, 'Piscopalians, dat 'tend St. John in Winnsboro, de Adgers,\nbig buckra, went to Zion in Winnsboro. Marster Burr Cockerell was de\nsheriff. 'Members he had to hang a man once, right in de open jailyard.\nThen dere was a poor buckra family name Marshall. Our white folks was\ngood to them, 'cause they say his pappy was close kin to de biggest\nJedge of our country, John Marshall.\n\n\"When de slaves got bad off sick, marster send for Dr. Walter Brice, his\nkin folks. Some times he might send for Dr. Madden, him's son-in-law, as\nhow he was.\n\n\"When de Yankees come, all de young marsters was off in de 'Federate\nside. I see them now, gallopin' to de house, canteen boxes on their hips\nand de bayonets rattlin' by deir sides. De fust thing they ask, was:\n'You got any wine?' They search de house; make us sing: 'Good Old Time\n'Ligion'; put us to runnin' after de chickens and a cookin'. When they\nleave they burnt de gin house and everything in dere. They burn de\nsmoke-house and wind up wid burnin' de big house.\n\n\"You through wid me now, boss? I sho' is glad of dat. Help all you kin\nto git me dat pension befo' I die and de Lord will bless you, honey. De\nLord not gwine to hold His hand any longer 'ginst us. Us cleared de\nforests, built de railroads, cleaned up de swamps, and nursed de white\nfolks. Now in our old ages, I hopes they lets de old slaves like me see\nde shine of some of dat money I hears so much talk 'bout. They say it's\nfree as de gift of grace from de hand of de Lord. Good mornin' and God\nbless you, will be my prayer always. Has you got a dime to give dis old\nnigger, boss?\"\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler\n Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n Georgetown County\n\n MOM HAGAR\n (Verbatim Conversation)\n\n\nMom Hagar Brown lives in her little weathered cabin on forty odd acres\nleft by her husband, Caleb Brown. Caleb died in Georgia where he had\nbeen sent to the penitentiary for stealing a hog that another man stole.\nAunt Hagar has grands settled all around her and she and the grands\ndivide up the acreage which is planted in corn, sweet potatoes, cotton,\nand some highland rice. She ministers to them all when sick, acts as\nmid-wife when necessary, and divides her all with her kin and\nfriends--white and black. She wages a war on ground-moles, at which she\nlaughs and says she resembles. Ground-mole beans almost a foot long\nprotect and decorate her yard. She has apple and fig trees, and\nscuppernong grape vines grow rank and try to climb all her trees.\n\n(Monday morning she hobbles up on a stick--limping and looking sick.)\nComes in kitchen door.\n\nLillie: \"Aunt Hagar, how you?\"\n\nHagar: \"Painful. Doctor tell me I got the tonsil. Want to represent me\none time and take them out. I say, 'No Doctor! Get in hospital, can't\nget out! Let me stay here till my change come.' Yeddy? I ain't wuth!\nAin't wuth! Ain't got a piece o' sense. Yeddy? Ellen say she want God to\ntake she tomorrow? When you ready it's 'God take me now! All right\nson!\" (Greeting Zackie who enters kitchen.)\n\nZackie: \"Aunt Hagar, how you feel?\"\n\nHagar: \"I ain't wuth son. How's all?\"\n\nZackie: \"Need a little more grits!\"\n\nLillie: \"Hear Zackie! Mom Hagar, that ain't hinder him ordering\nanother!\" (The fact that food is scarce doesn't limit Zackie's family.)\n\nHagar: \"You hear bout this Jeremiah broke in somewhere--get all kinds\nlikker and canned things and different thing?\"\n\nZackie: \"Must a broke in that place call 'Stumble Inn!' (Very\nseriously.) That Revenue man been there.\"\n\nHagar: \"I yeddy last night! Say he there in news-paper. Mary say, 'see\n'em in paper!' Mrs. White gone to child funeral. That been in paper too.\nMary see that in paper. Easter say old lady gone dere. Doctor say better\ngo. Child sick. Child seven years old. Fore they get there tell 'em say,\n'Child dead!'\n\n\"People gone in patch to pick watermillon. Ain't want child to go. You\nknow chillun! Child gone in. Ain't want 'em for go. You know. Child pick\nwatermillon. Ketch up one--I forgotten what pound they say. Roll. Roll\nduh watermillon. Roll 'em on snake! They say, 'Snake bite 'em?' Child\nsay, 'No. Must a scratch.' See blood run on boy leg. Child get\nunconscion that minute. Gone right out. Jess so. Ease out so. I cry. I\ncry!\"\n\nLillie: \"You know 'em, Mom Hagar?\"\n\nHagar: \"No! No! Lill, fever got me! Cold get me till my rump dead. Got\nhospital boy rouse one time say, 'Ma, less go home! Red stripe snake\nbite me.'\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nHagar: \"Klu Klux?\" (Chin cupped in hand--elbow on knee--looking way\noff--)\n\n\"Reckon that the way them old timey people call 'em. Have to run way,\nyou go church. Going to come in to ketch you or do any mischievous\nthing--come carry you place they going beat you--in suit of white. Old\nwhite man to Wilderness Plantation. Parish old man name. Treat his wife\nbad. Come to house, ain't crack. Come right in suit of white. Drag him\nout--right to Woodstock there where Mr. Dan get shoot. Put a beating on\nthat white man there till he mess up! Oman never gone back to him yet!\"\n\n\"A man wuz name (I forgot what the man name wuz)--wuz a white man mess\nround wid a colored woman and they didn't do a God thing but gone and\nput a beating on you, darling! Come in. Grab you and go. Put a beating\non you till you can't see. Know they got a good grub to lick you wid.\nThey git done you can't sit down. Ain't going carry you just for play\nwith.\"\n\n\"Mom Hagar, you wanter vote?\"\n\nHagar: \"Oh my God!\"\n\n\"Aunt Hagar are the colored people happier now than the old timey\nslavery time people?\"\n\nHagar: \"Young people now got the world by force. Don't care. Got more\ntrick than law low. Tricky! Can't beat the old people. Can't equal to\n'em. Some the young people you say 'AMEN' in church they make fun o'\nyou. Every tub stand on his own bottom. Can't truss 'em.\n\n\"Ma say some dem plan to run way. Say, 'Less run! Less run!' Master\nketch dem and fetch dem in. Lay 'em cross barrel. Beat dem till they\nwash in blood. Fetch 'em back. Place 'em cross the barrel--hogsket\nbarrel--Christ! They ramp wash in blood! Beat Ma sister. He sister\nsickly. Never could clear task--like he want. My Ma have to work he self\nto death to help Henritta so sickly. Clear task to keep from beat. Some\nobersheer mean. Oaks labor. (Meaning her Ma and ma's family were\nlaboring on Oaks Plantation--the plantation where Gov. Joseph Allston\nand Theodosia his wife lived on Waccamaw.) Mother Sally Doctor. Ma got\nfour chillun. One was Emmeline, one Getty, one Katrine one Hagar! I\nolder than Gob (Katrine). Could a call doctor for Gob if I had any\nsense.\" (Big nuff to gone for doctor when Gob born.)\n\n \"Stay in the field!\n Stay in the field!\n Stay in the field till the war been end!\"\n\n(This is Aunt Hagar's favorite song)\n\n Mom Hagar Brown--age 77\n Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n July 4th, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Project #-1655\n Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler\n Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n Georgetown County\n\n (Some recollections of Mom Hagar Brown)\n\n\nVisitor: \"Mom Hagar, how old did you say you were?\"\n\nHagar: \"Don't take care of my age! Had me gang of chillun when ma die. I\nhad Samuel, I had Elias, I had Arthur, I had Beck. Oh, my God! Man, go\nway! I had Sally! I had Sally again. I didn't want to give the name\n'Sally' again. Say, 'First Sally come carry girl.' Ma say, 'Gin 'em name\n'Sally!' I faid (afraid) that other one come back for him. Had to do\nwhat Ma say. Had to please 'em. Ma name Sally. Ma chillun Catrine,\nHagar, Emmeline, Gettie. I born Columbia. Come Freedom, when we left\nColumbia, ma finer till we get in Charston. Freedom come, battle till we\nget 'Oaks.' (Battled till they reached the 'Oaks Plantation--.')Stay\nthere till people gin (begin) move bout. Come Watsaw. Gone 'Collins\nCreek.' In the 'Reb Time' you know, when they sell you bout--Massa sell\nyou all about. Broke through them briar and branch and thing to go to\nchurch. Them patrol get you. Church 'Old Bethel.' You don't know 'em.\nBeen gone!\n\n\"I yeddy ma! (heard my mother) Ma say, 'I too glad my chillun aint been\nhere Rebs time! Gin you task you rather drown than not done that task!\nMa say Auntie poor we weak creeter, couldn't strain. Ma had to strain to\nfetch sister up with her task. Dere (there) in rice-field. Ma say they\non flat going to islant (island), see cloud, pray God send rain! When\nrooster crow, say they pray God to stop 'em! Rooster crow, broke up\nwedder! When rooster crow, scare 'em. Broke up rain! Ma say they drag\nthe pot in the river when the flat going cross. Do this to make it rain.\nMassa! Don't done you task, driver wave that whip, put you over the\nbarrel, beat you so blood run down! I wouldn't take 'em! Ma say, 'I too\nglad my chillun aint born then!'\n\n\"Any cash money? Where you gwine get 'em? Only cash the gospel! Have to\nget the gospel. Give you cloth! Give you ration! Jess (just according)\nmany chillun you got. Ma say chillun feed all the corn to the fowl.\n\n Chillun say,\n\n 'Papa love he fowl!\n Papa love he fowl!\n Three peck a day!\n Three peck a day!\n\n\"Parent come to door. Not a grain of corn leave! Poor people! Come,\ndrop! Not a grain! Everybody on the hill help. One give this; one give\nthat. Handle 'em light! (Very careful with victuals). Gone you till\nSaddy (Saturday.) (Will last you until Saturday when you are rationed\nagain.)\n\n\"When Ma get down, she say, 'I gone leave! I gone leave here now! But,\noh, Hagar! Be a mudder and fadder for Katrine!'\n\n\"I say, (I call Katrine 'Gob') I say, 'Better tell Gob to look atter\nme!'\n\n\"Ma say, 'When I gone I ax the Master when he take me, to send drop o'\nrain to let true believer know I gone to Glory!'\n\n\"When they lift the body to take 'em to the church, rain, 'Tit! Tit!\nTit! Tit!' on the house! At the gate, moon shine out' Going to the\nchurch! Bury to the 'Oaks.'\n\n\"Gob say, 'Titty, all you chillun bury at Oaks. Ma to Oaks. How come you\nwanter bury Watsaw?\"\n\n\"I say, 'When the trumpet sound, I yeddy!' (When the trumpet sounds,\nI'll hear it!)\n\n\"I marry right to Collins Creek hill. Big dance out the door! I free! I\nkick up! Ma, old rebs time people!\"\n\n Mom Hagar Brown\n Age--(She says 'Born first o'\n Freedom' but got her age from\n a contemporary and reported 77)\n Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #-1655\n Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler\n Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n Georgetown County\n\n EX-SLAVE STORY\n (Verbatim)\n\n\n\"My old man can 'member things and tell you things and he word carry. We\nmarry to Turkey Hill Plantation. Hot supper. Cake, wine, and all. Kill\ncow, hog, chicken and all. That time when you marry, so much to eat!\nFinance wedding! Now--\n\n\"We 'lamp-oil chillun'; they 'lectric light' chillun now! We call our\nwedding 'lamp-oil wedding'. Hall jam full o' people; out-of-door jam\nfull. Stand before the chimbley.\n\n\"When that first war come through, we born. I don't know just when I\nsmell for come in the world.\n\n\"Big storm? Yinnah talk big storm hang people up on tree? (Noah!) Shake?\nI here in house. House gone, 'Rack-a-rack-a-racker!'\n\n\"My husband run out--with me and my baby left in bed! Baby just come in\ntime of the shake.\n\n\"When I first have sense, I 'member I walk on the frost bare-feet.\nCow-belly shoe.\n\n\"My husband mother have baby on the flat going to Marion and he Auntie\nCinda have a baby on that flat.\n\n\"From yout (youth) I been a Brown and marry a Brown; title never change.\n\n\"Old timey sing?\n\n 1.\n\n \"Wish I had a hundred dog\n And half wuz hound!\n Take it in my fadder field\n And we run the rabbit down!\n Chorus: Now he hatch\n He hatch!\n He hatch!\n And I run the rabbit down!\n\n 2.\n\n \"I wish I had a hundred head o' dog\n And half of them wuz hound\n I'd take 'em back in my bacco field\n And run the rabbit down.\n Chorus: Now he hatch--he hatch!\n He hatch--he hatch!\n Now he hatch--he hatch!\n And I run them rabbit down!\"\n\n\"That wuz a sing we used to have on the plantation. Then we make up\nsing--we have sing for chillun. Make 'em go sleep. Every one have his\nown sing.\n\n \"Bye-o-baby!\n Go sleepy!\n Bye-o-baby!\n Go sleepy!\n What a big alligator\n Coming to catch\n This one boy!\"\n\n \"Diss here the Watson one boy child!\n Bye-o-baby go sleepy!\n What a big alligator\n Coming to catch this one boy!\"\n\nEmmie Jordan: \"Missus, I too plague with bad heart trouble to give you\nthe sing!\"\n\n Song and conversation Given by\n\n Mom Louisa Brown (Born time of 'Reb people War')\n Waverly Mills, S. C.\n Near Parkersville, S. C.\n\n\n\n Project -1655\n Jessie A. Butler\n Charleston, S. C.\n Approximately 930 words\n\n FOLKLORE\n\n Stories from Ex-slaves\n Henry Brown\n Ex-slave Age 79\n\n\nHenry Brown, negro caretaker of the Gibbes House, at the foot of Grove\nstreet, once a part of Rose Farm, is a splendid example of a type once\nfrequently met with in the South. Of a rich brown complexion, aquiline\nof feature, there is none of the \"Gullah\" about Henry. He is courteous\nand kindly in his manner, and speaks more correctly than the average\nnegro.\n\n\"My father was Abram Brown, and my mother's name was Lucy Brown,\" he\nsaid. \"They were slaves of Dr. Arthur Gordon Rose. My grandfather and\ngrandmother were grown when they came from Africa, and were man and wife\nin Africa. I was born just about two years before the war so I don't\nremember anything about slavery days, and very little about war times,\nexcept that we were taken to Deer Pond, about half mile from Columbia.\nDr. Rose leased the place from Dr. Ray, and took his family there for\nsafety. My mother died while he was at Deer Pond, and was buried there,\nbut all the rest of my people is buried right here at Rose Farm. My two\nbrothers were a lot older than me, and were in the war. After the war my\nbrother Tom was on the police force, he was a sergeant, and they called\nhim Black Sergeant. My brother Middleton drove the police wagon: they\nused to call it Black Maria.\n\n\"My father, Abram Brown, was the driver or head man at Rose plantation.\nDr. Rose thought a heap of him, and during the war he put some of his\nfine furniture and other things he brought from England in my father's\nhouse and told him if the Yankees came to say the things belonged to\nhim. Soon after that the soldiers came. They asked my father who the\nthings belonged to and he said they belonged to him. The soldiers asked\nhim who gave them to him, and he said his master gave them to him. The\nYankees told him that they thought he was lying, and if he didn't tell\nthe truth they would kill him, but he wouldn't say anything else so they\nleft him alone and went away.\n\n\"Work used to start on the plantation at four o'clock in the morning,\nwhen the people went in the garden. At eight or nine o'clock they went\ninto the big fields. Everybody was given a task of work. When you\nfinished your task you could quit. If you didn't do your work right you\ngot a whipping.\n\n\"The babies were taken to the Negro house and the old women and young\ncolored girls who were big enough to lift them took care of them. At one\no'clock the babies were taken to the field to be nursed, then they were\nbrought back to the Negro house until the mothers finished their work,\nthen they would come for them.\n\n\"Dr. Rose gave me to his son, Dr. Arthur Barnwell Rose, for a Christmas\npresent. After the war Dr. Rose went back to England. He said he\ncouldn't stay in a country with so many free Negroes. Then his son Dr.\nArthur Barnwell Rose had the plantation. Those was good white people,\ngood white people.\n\n\"The colored people were given their rations once a week, on Monday,\nthey got corn, and a quart of molasses, and three pounds of bacon, and\nsometimes meat and peas. They had all the vegetables they wanted; they\ngrew them in the gardens. When the boats first came in from Africa with\nthe slaves, a big pot of peas was cooked and the people ate it with\ntheir hands right from the pot. The slaves on the plantation went to\nmeeting two nights a week and on Sunday they went to Church, where they\nhad a white preacher Dr. Rose hired to preach to them.\n\n\"After the war when we came back to Charleston I went to work as a\nchimney-sweep. I was seven years old then. They paid me ten cents a\nstory. If a house had two stories I got twenty cents; if it had three\nstories I got thirty cents. When I got too big to go up the chimneys I\nwent back to Rose plantation. My father was still overseer or driver. I\ndrove a cart and plowed. Afterwards I worked in the phosphate mines,\nthen came back here to take care of the garden and be caretaker. I\nplanted all these Cherokee roses you see round here, and I had a big\nlawn of Charleston grass. I aint able to keep it like I used to.\"\n\nHenry is intensely religious. He says \"the people don't notice God now\nbecause they're free.\" \"Some people say there aint no hell,\" he\ncontinued, \"but I think there must be some kind of place like that,\nbecause you got to go some place when you leave this earth, and you got\nto go to the master that you served when you were here. If you serve God\nand obey His commandments then you go to Him, but if you don't pay any\nattention to what he tells you in His Book, just do as you choose and\nserve the devil, then you got to go to him. And it don't make any\ndifference if you're poor or rich, it don't matter what the milliner\n(millionaire) man says.\"\n\nHe seemed so proud of his garden, with its broad view across the Ashley\nRiver, showing his black walnut, pear and persimmon trees, grape vines\nand roses, that the writer said, \"Henry, you know a poet has said that\nwe are nearer God in the garden than anywhere else on earth.\" \"Well\nma'am, you see,\" he replied, with a winning smile, \"that's where God put\nus in the first place.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n Augustus Ladson\n Charleston, S. C.\n\n EX-SLAVE BORN 1857\n GRAND PARENTS CAME DIRECTLY FROM AFRICA\n\n\nI was nickname' durin' the days of slavery. My name was Henry but they\ncall' me Toby. My sister, Josephine, too was nickname' an' call' Jessee.\nOur mistress had a cousin by that name. My oldes' bredder was a Sergeant\non the Charleston Police Force around 1868. I had two other sister',\nLouise an' Rebecca.\n\nMy firs' owner was Arthur Barnwell Rose. Then Colonel A. G. Rhodes\nbought the plantation who sol' it to Capen Frederick W. Wagener. James\nSottile then got in possession who sol' it to the DeCostas, an' a few\nweeks ago Mrs. Albert Callitin Simms, who I'm tol' is a former member of\nCongress, bought it. Now I'm wonderin' if she is goin' to le' me stay. I\nhope so 'cus I'm ol' now en can't work.\n\nMy pa was name' Abraham Brown; he was bo'n on Coals Islan' in Beaufort\nCounty. Colonel Rhodes bought him for his driver, then he move here. I\ndidn't know much 'bout him; he didn't live so long afta slavery 'cus he\nwas ol.\n\nColonel Rhodes had a son an' a daughter. The son went back to England\nafta his death an' the daughter went to Germany with her husban'. They\nain't never come back so the place was sol' for tax.\n\nDurin' the war we was carry to Deer Pond, twelve miles on dis side of\nColumbia. W'en the war was end' pa brought my sister, Louise, Rebecca,\nwho was too small to work, Josephine an' me, home. All my people is\nlong-lifted. My grand pa an' grand ma on pa side come right from Africa.\nThey was stolen an' brought here. They use to tell us of how white men\nhad pretty cloth on boats which they was to exchange for some of their\no'nament'. W'en they take the o'nament' to the boat they was carry way\ndown to the bottom an' was lock' in. They was anchored on or near\nSullivan's Islan' w'ere they been feed like dogs. A big pot was use' for\ncookin'. In that pot peas was cook' an' lef' to cool. Everybody went to\nthe pot with the han's an' all eat frum the pot.\n\nI was bo'n two years before the war an' was seven w'en it end. That was\nin 1857. I never went to school but five months in my life, but could\nlearn easy. Very seldom I had to be tol' to do the same thing twice.\n\nThe slaves had a plenty o' vegetables all the time. Master planted t'ree\nacres jus' for the slaves which was attended to in the mornin's before\ntas' time. All provision was made as to the distribution on Monday\nevenin's afta tas'.\n\nMy master had two place: one on Big Islan' an' on Coals Islan' in\nBeaufort County. He didn't have any overseer. My pa was his driver.\n\nPa say this place was given to Mr. Rhodes with a thousand acres of lan'\nby England. But it dwindled to thirty-five w'en the other was taken back\nby England.\n\nThere wasn't but ten slaves on this plantation. The driver call' the\nslaves at four so they could git their breakfas'. They always work the\ngarden firs' an' at seven go in the co'n an' cotton fiel'. Some finish\ntheir tas' by twelve an' others work' 'til seven but had the tas' to\nfinish. No one was whip' 'less he needed it; no one else could whip\nmaster' slaves. He wouldn't stan' for it. We had it better then than now\n'cause white men lynch an' burn now an' do other things they couldn't do\nthen. They shoot you down like dogs now, an' nothin' said or done.\n\nNo slave was suppose' to be whip' in Charleston except at the Sugar\nHouse. There was a jail for whites, but if a slave ran away an' got\nthere he could disown his master an' the state wouldn't le' him take\nyou.\n\nAll collud people has to have a pass w'en they went travelin'; free as\nwell as slaves. If one didn't the patrollers, who was hired by rich\nwhite men would give you a good whippin' an' sen' you back home. My pa\ndidn't need any one to write his pass 'cause he could write as well as\nmaster. How he got his education, I didn't know.\n\nSat'day was a workin' day but the tas' was much shorter then other days.\nMen didn't have time to frolic 'cause they had to fin' food for the\nfambly; master never give 'nough to las' the whole week. A peck o' co'n,\nt'ree pound o' beacon, quart o' molasses, a quart o' salt, an' a pack o'\ntobacco was given the men. The wife got the same thing but chillun\naccordin' to age. Only one holiday slaves had an' that was Christmas.\n\nCo'nshuckin' parties was conducted by a group of fa'mers who take their\nslaves or sen' them to the neighborin' ones 'til all the co'n was\nshuck'. Each one would furnish food 'nough for all slaves at his party.\nSome use to have nothin' but bake potatas an' some kind of vegetable.\n\nAn unmarried young man was call' a half-han'. W'en he want to marry he\njus' went to master an' say there's a gal he would like to have for\nwife. Master would say yes an' that night more chicken would be fry an'\neverything eatable would be prepare at master' expense. The couple went\nhome afta the supper, without any readin' of matrimony, man an' wife.\n\nA man once married his ma en' didn't know it. He was sell from her w'en\n'bout eight years old. When he grow to a young men, slavery then was\nover, he met this woman who he like' an' so they were married. They was\nmarried a month w'en one night they started to tell of their experiences\nan' how many times they was sol'. The husban' tol' how he was sol' from\nhis mother who liked him dearly. He tol' how his ma faint' w'en they\ntook him away an' how his master then use to bran' his baby slaves at a\nyear ol'. W'en he showed her the bran' she faint' 'cause she then\nrealize' that she had married her son.\n\nSlaves didn't have to use their own remedy for sickness for good doctors\nbeen hired to look at them. There was, as is, though, some weed use for\nfever an' headache as: blacksnake root, furrywork, jimpsin weed, one\nthat tie' on the head which bring sweat from you like hail, an' hickory\nleaf. If the hickory is keep on the head too long it will blister it.\n\nW'en the war was fightin' the white men burn the bridge at the foot of\nSpring Street so the Yankees couldn't git over but they buil' pontoos\nwhile some make the horses swim 'cross. One night while at Deer Pond, I\nhear something like thunder until 'bout eleven the next day. W'en the\nthing I t'ought was thunder stop', master tell us that evenin' we was\nfree. I wasn't surprise to know for as little as I was I know the\nYankees was goin' to free us with the help of God.\n\nI was married twice, an' had two gals an' a boy with firs' wife. I have\nt'ree boys with the second; the younges' is jus' eight.\n\nLincoln did jus' what God inten' him to do, but I think nothin' 'bout\nCalhoun on 'account of what he say in one of his speech 'bout collud\npeople. He said: \"keep the niggers down.\"\n\nTo see collud boys goin' 'round now with paper an' pencil in their han's\ndon't look real to me. Durin' slavery he would be whip' 'til not a skin\nwas lef' on his body.\n\nMy pa was a preacher why I become a Christian so early; he preach' on\nthe plantation to the slaves. On Sunday the slaves went to the white\nchurch. He use to tell us of hell an' how hot it is. I was so 'fraid of\nhell 'til I was always tryin' to do the right thing so I couldn't go to\nthat terrible place.\n\nI don't care 'bout this worl' an' its vanities 'cause the Great Day is\ncomin' w'en I shall lay down an' my stammerin' tongue goin' to lie\nsilent in my head. I want a house not made with han's but eternal in the\nHeavens. That Man up there, is all I need; I'm goin' to still trus' Him.\nBefore the comin' of Chris' men was kill' for His name sake; today they\ncurse Him. It's nearly time for the world to come to en' for He said\n\"bout two thousand years I shall come again\" an' that time is fas'\napproachin'.\n\n Source\n\n Interview with Henry Brown, 637 Grove Street. He is much concerned with\n the Scottsboro Case and discusses the invasion of Italy into defenseless\n Ethiopia intelligently.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon,\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n JOHN C. BROWN AND ADELINE BROWN\n EX-SLAVES 86 YEARS AND 96 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nJohn C. Brown and his wife, Adeline, who is eleven years older than\nhimself, live in a ramshackle four-room frame house in the midst of a\ncotton field, six miles west of Woodward, S. C. John assisted in laying\nthe foundation and building the house forty-four years ago. A single\nchina-berry tree, gnarled but stately, adds to, rather than detracts\nfrom, the loneliness of the dilapidated house. The premises and\nthereabout are owned by the Federal Land Bank. The occupants pay no\nrent. Neither of them are able to work. They have been fed by charity\nand the W. P. A. for the past eighteen months.\n\n(John talking)\n\n\"Where and when I born? Well, dat'll take some 'hear say', Mister. I\nnever knowed my mammy. They say she was a white lady dat visited my old\nmarster and mistress. Dat I was found in a basket, dressed in nice baby\nclothes, on de railroad track at Dawkins, S. C. De engineer stop de\ntrain, got out, and found me sumpin' like de princess found Moses, but\nnot in de bulrushes. Him turn me over to de conductor. De conductor\ncarry me to de station at Dawkins, where Marse Tom Dawkins come to meet\nde train dat mornin' and claim me as found on his land. Him say him had\nde best right to me. De conductor didn't 'ject to dat. Marse Tom carry\nme home and give me to Miss Betsy. Dat was his wife and my mistress. Her\nalways say dat Sheton Brown was my father. He was one of de slaves on de\nplace; de carriage driver. After freedom he tell me he was my real\npappy. Him took de name of Brown and dat's what I go by.\n\n\"My father was a ginger-bread colored man, not a full-blooded nigger.\nDat's how I is altogether yallow. See dat lady over dere in dat chair?\nDat's my wife. Her brighter skinned than I is. How come dat? Her daddy\nwas a full-blooded Irishman. He come over here from Ireland and was\noverseer for Marse Bob Clowney. He took a fancy for Adeline's mammy, a\nbright 'latto gal slave on de place. White women in them days looked\ndown on overseers as poor white trash. Him couldn't git a white wife but\nmade de best of it by puttin' in his spare time a honeyin' 'round\nAdeline's mammy. Marse Bob stuck to him, and never 'jected to it.\n\n\"When de war come on, Marse Richard, de overseer, shoulder his gun as a\nsoldier and, as him was educated more than most of de white folks, him\nrise to be captain in de Confederate Army. It's a pity him got kilt in\ndat war.\n\n\"My marster, Tom Dawkins, have a fine mansion. He owned all de land\n'round Dawkins and had 'bout 200 slaves, dat lived in good houses and\nwas we well fed. My pappy was de man dat run de mill and grind de wheat\nand corn into flour and meal. Him never work in de field. He was 'bove\ndat. Him 'tend to de ginnin' of de cotton and drive de carriage.\n\n\"De Yankees come and burn de mansion, de gin-house and de mill. They\ntake all de sheep, mules, cows, hogs and even de chickens. Set de slaves\nfree and us niggers have a hard time ever since.\n\n\"My black stepmammy was so mean to me dat I run away. I didn't know\nwhere to go but landed up, one night, at Adeline's mammy's and\nsteppappy's house, on Marse Bob Clowney's place. They had been slaves of\nMarse Bob and was livin' and workin' for him. I knock on de door. Mammy\nCharity, dat's Adeline's mammy, say: 'Who dat?' I say: 'Me'. Her say:\n'Who is me?' I say: 'John'. Her say: 'John who?' I say: 'Just John'. Her\nsay: 'Adeline, open de door, dat's just some poor boy dat's cold and\nhungry. Charity is my fust name. Your pappy ain't come yet but I'll let\ndat boy in 'til he come and see what he can do 'bout it.'\n\n\"When Adeline open dat door, I look her in de eyes. Her eyes melt\ntowards me wid a look I never see befo' nor since. Mind you, I was just\na boy fourteen, I 'spects, and her a woman twenty-five then. Her say:\n'You darlin' little fellow; come right in to de fire.' Oh, my! She took\non over me! Us wait 'til her pappy come in. Then him say: 'What us gonna\ndo wid him?' Adeline say: 'Us gonna keep him.' Pappy say: 'Where he\ngonna sleep?' Adeline look funny. Mammy say: 'Us'll fix him a pallet by\nde fire.' Adeline clap her hands and say: 'You don't mind dat, does you\nboy?' I say: 'No ma'am, I is slept dat way many a time.'\n\n\"Well, I work for Marse Bob Clowney and stayed wid Adeline's folks two\nyears. I sure made myself useful in dat family. Never 'spicioned what\nAdeline had in her head, 'til one day I climbed up a hickory nut tree,\nflail de nuts down, come down and was helpin' to pick them up when she\nbump her head 'ginst mine and say: 'Oh, Lordy!' Then I pat and rub her\nhead and it come over me what was in dat head! Us went to de house and\nher told de folks dat us gwine to marry.\n\n\"Her led me to de altar dat nex' Sunday. Gived her name to de preacher\nas Adeline Cabean. I give de name of John Clowney Brown. Marse Bob was\ndere and laugh when de preacher call my name, 'John Clowney Brown'.\n\n\"Our chillun come pretty fast. I was workin' for $45.00 a year, wid\nrations. Us had three pounds of bacon, a peck of meal, two cups of\nflour, one quart of 'lasses, and one cup of salt, a week.\n\n\"Us never left Marse Robert as long as him lived. When us have four\nchillun, him increase de amount of flour to four cups and de 'lasses to\ntwo quarts. Then him built dis house for de old folks and Adeline and de\nchillun to live in. I help to build it forty-four years ago. Our chillun\nwas Clarice, Jim, John, Charity, Tom, Richard, and Adeline.\n\n\"I followed Marse Robert Clowney in politics, wore a red shirt, and\nvoted for him to go to de Legislature. Him was 'lected dat time but\nnever cared for it no more.\n\n\"Adeline b'long to de church. Always after me to jine but I can't\nbelieve dere is anything to it, though I believes in de law and de Ten\nCommandments. Preacher calls me a infidel. Can't help it. They is maybe\ngot me figured out wrong. I believes in a Great Spirit but, in my time,\nI is seen so many good dogs and hosses and so many mean niggers and\nwhite folks, dat I 'clare, I is confused on de subject. Then I can't\nbelieve in a hell and everlastin' brimstone. I just think dat people is\nlak grains of corn: dere is some good grains and some rotten grains. De\ngood grains is res'rected, de rotten grains never sprout again. Good\npeople come up again and flourish in de green fields of Eden. Bad people\nno come up. Deir bodies and bones just make phosphate guano, 'round de\nroots of de ever bloomin' tree of life. They lie so much in dis world,\nmaybe de Lord will just make 'lie' soap out of them. What you think else\nthey would be fit for?\"\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n Martha S. Pinckney\n Charleston, S. C.\n\n FOLKLORE\n Approx. 660 words\n\n INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE\n Age 88-90\n\n\nMary Frances Brown is a typical product of the old school of trained\nhouse servants, an unusual delicate type, somewhat of the Indian cast,\nto which race she is related. She is always clean and neat, a refined\nold soul, as individuals of that class often are. Her memory, sight and\nhearing are good for her advanced age.\n\n\"Our home Marlboro. Mas Luke Turnage was my\nmaster--Marlboro-Factory-Plantation name 'Beauty Spot'. My missis was\nright particular about neat and clean. She raise me for a house girl. My\nmissis was good to me, teach me ebbery ting, and take the Bible and\nlearn me Christianified manners, charity, and behaviour and good\nrespect, and it with me still.\n\n\"We didn't have any hard times, our owners were good to us--no over\nshare (overseer) and no whippin'--he couldn't stan' that. I live there\n'til two year after freedom; how I come to leave, my mother sister been\nsick, and she ask mother to send one of us, an she send me. My mother\nbeen Miss Nancy cook. Miss Nancy was Mas Luke's mother--it take me two\nyears learning to eat the grub they cook down here in Charleston. I had\nto learn to eat these little piece of meat--we had a dish full of meat;\nthe big smoke house was lined from the top down. (Describing how the\nmeat hung) I nebber accustom to dese little piece of meat, so--what dey\ngot here. Missis, if you know smoke house, didn't you find it hard? My\nmaster had 'til he didn't know what to do with. My white people were\nGentile.\" (Her tone implied that she considered them the acme of gentle\nfolks). \"I don't know what the other people were name that didn't have\nas much as we had--but I know my people were Gentile!\"\n\nJust here her daughter and son appeared, very unlike their mother in\ntype. The daughter is quite as old looking as her mother; the son, a\nrough stevedore. When the writer suggested that the son must be a\ncomfort, she looked down sadly and said in a low tone, as if\nsoliloquizing, \"He way is he way.\" Going back to her former thought, she\nsaid, \"All our people were good. Mas Luke was the worse one.\" (This she\nsaid with an indulgent smile) \"Cause he was all the time at the race\nground or the fair ground.\n\n\"Religion rules Heaven and Earth, an there is no religion\nnow--harricanes an washin-aways is all about. Ebberything is change. Dis\nnew name what they call grip is pleurisy-cold--putrid sore-throat is\ncalled somethin'--yes, diptheria. Cuttin (surgery) come out in 1911!\nThey kill an they cure, an they save an they loss.\n\n\"My Gran'ma trained with Indians--she bin a Indian, an Daniel C. McCall\nbought her. She nebber loss a baby.\" (the first Indian relationship that\nthe writer can prove). \"You know Dr. Jennings? Ebberybody mus' know him.\nAfter he examine de chile an de mother, an 'ee alright, he hold de nurse\nresponsible for any affection (infection) that took place.\n\n\"Oh! I know de spiritual--but Missis, my voice too weak to sing--dey\naint in books; if I hear de name I can sing--'The Promise Land', Oh, how\nMas Joel Easterling (born 1796) use to love to sing dat!\"\n\n \"I am bound for de Promise Land!\n Oh! who will arise an go with me?\n I am bound for the Promise Land!\n I've got a mother in the Promise Land,\n My mother calls me an I mus go,\n To meet her in the Promise Land!\"\n\n Source: Mary Frances Brown, Age 88-90, East Bay Street, Charleston,\n S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #-1655\n Cassels R. Tiedeman\n Charleston, S. C.\n\n FOLKLORE\n\n INTERVIEW WITH AN EX-SLAVE\n\n\nMary Frances Brown, about ninety years of age, born in slavery, on the\nplantation of Luke Turnage, in Marlboro County, was raised as a\nhouse-servant and shows today evidence of most careful training. Her\nbearing is rather a gentle refined type, seemingly untouched by the\nsqualor in which she lives. She willingly gives freely of her small\nstore of strength to those around her.\n\nHer happiest days seem to have been those of her early youth, for when\nshe was questioned about the present times, and even about those closely\nassociated with her today she bowed her head and said: \"Deir way is deir\nway. O! let me tell you now, de world is in a haad (hard) time, wust\n(worse) den it eber (ever) been, but religion! It eberywhere in Hebben\nan' in de ert (earth) too, if you want em. De trouble is you ain't want\nem; 'e right dere jes de same but de time done pass when dis generation\nhold wid anyt'ing but de debbul. When I a gal, grown up, I had a tight\nmissus dat raise me, you hab to keep clean round her, she good an' kind\nan' I lub her yet, but don't you forgit to mind what she say.\n\n\"My massa, he 'low no whipping on de plantation, he talk heap an' he\nscold plenty, but den he hab to. Dere was haad time for two year after\nde war was ober (over) but after dat it better den it is now. Dis is de\nwust time eber. I ain't eber git use to de wittle (victual) you hab down\nhere. I lib ober Mount Pleasant twenty five year after I come from de\nold place up Marlboro, den I come to Charleston.\n\n\"Dey were happy time back dere. My massa, he run round ebery way, spend\nplenty money on horse race, he gib good time to eberybody an' tell us we\nmus' tek good care of de missus when he ain't dere. An de wittles we hab\nI ain't nebber see de lak no time. Dem were de times to lib. I old now\nbut I ain't forgit what my missus larn (learn) me. It right here in me.\"\n\nMary Frances was asked if she could sing spirituals. The following is\none that she sang in a very high pitched wavering voice and then she\ncomplained of shortness of breath on account of her heart.\n\n \"We got a home ober dere,\n Come an' let us go,\n Come an' let us go,\n Where pleasure neber (never) die.\n\n Chorus:\n\n \"Oh! let us go where pleasure neber die,\n Neber die,\n Come and let us go,\n Where pleasure neber die, neber die.\n\n \"Mother is gone ober dere,\n Mother is gone ober dere,\n Where pleasure neber die,\n Where pleasure neber die.\n\n Chorus:\n\n \"Father is gone ober dere,\n Father is gone ober dere,\n Where pleasure neber die,\n Where pleasure neber die.\n\n Chorus:\n\n \"Sister is gone ober dere,\n Sister is gone ober dere,\n Where pleasure neber die,\n Where pleasure neber die.\n\n Chorus:\n\n \"Brudder is gone ober dere,\n Brudder is gone ober dere,\n Where pleasure neber die,\n Where pleasure neber die.\"\n\n Chorus:\n\n Source: Interview with Mary Frances Brown, 83 East Bay St.,\n Charleston, S. C. (age--90)\n\n\n\n\n Code No. ----\n Project. 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, July 8, 1937\n No. Words ----\n Reduced From ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n MOM SARA BROWN\n Ex-Slave, 85 years\n\n\n\"Oh, my God, de doctors have me in slavery time. Been here de startin of\nde first war. I belong to de Cusaac dat live 15 miles low Florence on de\nroad what take you on to Georgetown. I recollects de Yankees come dere\nin de month of June en free de colored peoples.\"\n\n\"My white folks give me to de doctors in dem days to try en learn me for\na nurse. Don' know exactly how old I was in dat day en time, but I can\ntell you what I done. My Lord, child, can' tell dat. Couldn' never tell\nhow many baby I bring in dis world, dey come so fast. I betcha I got\nmore den dat big square down dere to de courthouse full of em. I nurse\n13 head of chillun in one family right here in dis town. You see dat all\nI ever did have to do. Was learnt to do dat. De doctor tell me, say,\nwhen you call to a 'oman, don' you never hesitate to go en help her en\nyou save dat baby en dat mother both. Dat what I is always try to do.\nHeap of de time just go en let em pay me by de chance. Oh, my Lord, a\n'oman birth one of dem babies here bout two weeks ago wid one of dem\nveil over it face. De Lord know what make dat, I don', but dem kind of\nbaby sho wiser den de other kind of baby. Dat thing look just like a\nthin skin dat stretch over da baby face en come down low it's chin. Have\nto take en pull it back over it's forehead en den de baby can see en\nholler all it ever want to. My blessed, honey, wish I had many a dollar\nas I see veil over baby face. Sho know all bout dem kind of things.\"\n\n\"Oh, honey, I tell you de people bless dis day en time. Don' know nothin\nbout how to be thankful enough for what dey have dese days. I tell de\ntruth de peoples sho had to scratch bout en make what dey had in slavery\ntime. Baby, dey plant patches of okra en parch dat en make what coffee\ndey have. Den dey couldn' get no shoes like dey hab dese days neither.\nJust make em out of de hide of dey own cows dat dey butcher right dere\non de plantation. Coase de peoples had plenty sometin to eat like meat\nen turkey en chicken en thing like dat. Oh, my God, couldn' see de top\nof de smoke house for all de heap of meat dey have in dem times. En milk\nen butter, honey, dey didn' never be widout plenty of dat. De peoples\nbout here dese days axes ten cents a quart for sweet milk en five cents\na quart for old sour clabber. What you think bout dat? Dat how-come\npeople have to hunt jobs so mucha dese days. Have to do some sorta work\ncause you know dey got to put sometin in dey mouth somewhe' or another.\nOh, my child, slavery days was troublesome times. Sugar en salt never\nrun free wid de peoples den neither. I know de day been here when salt\nwas so scarce dat dey had to go to de seashore en get what salt dey had.\nI gwine to tell you all bout dat. Dey hitch up two horses to a wagon en\nden dey make another horse go in front of de wagon to rest de other\nhorses long de way. Dey mostly go bout on a Monday en stay three days.\nBoil dat salty water down dere en fetch two en three of dem barrel of\nsalt back wid em dey get dat way. It was just like dis, it take heap of\nsalt when dey had dem big hog-killin days. En de sugar, dey make dat\ntoo. Made de sugar in lil blocks dat dey freeze just like dey freeze ice\ndis day en time. I know dey do dat--know it. Dey make molasses en some\nof it would be lighter den de other en dey freeze dat en make de\nprettiest lil squares just like de ice you see dese days. Dey have\nsometin to freeze it in. Dis here old black mammy know heap of things\nyou ain' never hear bout. Oh, baby, de peoples sho bless dese days.\"\n\n\"Oh, my god, de colored peoples worship to de white folks church in\nslavery time. You know dat Hopewell Church over de river dere, dat a\nslavery church. Dat whe' I go to church den wid my white folks. I had a\nlil chair wid a cowhide bottom dat I always take everywhe' I go wid me.\nIf I went to church, dat chair go in de carriage wid me en den I take it\nin de church en set right by de side of my Miss. Dat how it was in\nslavery time. Oh, my Lord, dere a big slavery people graveyard dere to\ndat Hopewell Church.\"\n\n\"Honey, you mind if I smoke my pipe a lil whilst I settin here talkin\nwid you. I worry so much wid dis high blood dese days en a ringin in my\nears dat my pipe de only thing dat does seem to satisfy my soul. I tell\nyou dat high blood a bad thing. It get such a hold on me awhile back dat\nI couldn' do nothin, couldn' pick cotton, couldn' say my--me, couldn'\neven say, God a mighty--thing pretty. Oh, I don' know. I start smokin\npipe long time ago when I first start nursin babies. Had to do sometin\nlike dat den.\"\n\n\"No, Lord, I never believe nothin bout dat but what God put here. I hear\nsome people say dey was conjure, but I don' pay no attention to dey\ntalk. Dey say somebody poison em for sometin dey do, but dere ain'\nnobody do dat. God gwine to put you down when he get ready. Ain' nobody\nelse do dat.\"\n\n\"Oh, my Lord, I been here a time. I sho been here a time en I thank de\nLord I here dis day en time. I can thread my needle good as ever I could\nen I ain' have no speck neither. Sew night en day. De chillun have dey\nlamp dere studyin en I hab my lamp dere sewin. My old Miss learnt me to\nsew when I stay right in de house wid her all de time. I stay bout white\nfolks all my life en dat how-come I so satisfy when I wid em.\"\n\n Source: Mom Sara Brown, age 85, ex-slave, Marion, S. C.\n Personal interview, June 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Code No. ----\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, September 10, 1937\n No. Words ----\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n MOM SARA BROWN\n Ex-Slave, 85 Years\n\n\n\"I stay in house over dere cross Catfish Swamp on Miss Addie McIntyre\nplace. Lives wid dis grand-daughter dat been sick in bed for four weeks,\nbut she mendin some now. She been mighty low, child. It start right in\nhere (chest) en run down twixt her shoulder. She had a tear up cold too,\nbut Dr. Dibble treat her en de cough better now. She got three chillun\ndere dat come just like steps. One bout like dat en another like dat en\nde other bout like dis.\"\n\n\"De house we stay in a two room house wid one of dese end chimney. All\nsleep in de same room en cook en eat in de other room. My bed on one\nside en Sue bed on de other side. Put chillun on quilts down on de floor\nin de other end of de room. Baby, whe' dem curtains you say you gwine\ngive me? I gwine hang dese up in Sue room. Dey help me fix up de room\nnice en decent like.\"\n\n\"It all on me to feed en clothe both dem chillun en de baby too. It just\ntoo much on me old as I is. Can' do nothin worth to speak bout hardly\ndese days. Can' hold my head down cause dis high blood worries me so\nmuch. It get too hot, can' iron. If ain' too hot, I makes out to press\nmy things somehow en sweep my yard bout. Sometimes I helps little bit\nwid doctor case, but not often. Can wash de baby en de mother, but can'\ndo no stayin up at night. No, baby, can' do no settin up at night.\"\n\n\"I tries to catch all what little I can to help along cause dat how I\nwas raise up. Government truck brings me little somethin once a month\npack up in packages like dry milk en oatmeal en potatoes. Give dat to\nall dem dat can' work en ain' got nobody to help dem. Dat dry milk a\ngood thing to mix up de bread wid en den it a help to fix little milk en\nbread for dem two little ones. De potatoes, I stews dem for de chillun\ntoo. Dey mighty fond of dem. Now de oatmeal, de chillun don' eat dat so\nI fixes it for Sue en every now en den I takes a little bit wid my\nbreakfast.\"\n\n\"I don' know much what to tell you bout Abraham Lincoln. I think he was\na mighty great man, a mighty great man, what I hear of him.\"\n\n\"I remembers de Yankees come dere to my white folks plantation one day\nen, child, dere was a time on dat place. All dem niggers was just a\nkickin up dey heels en shoutin. I was standin dere on de piazza lookin\nat dem en I say, 'I don' see why dey want to carry on like dat for. I\nbeen free all de time.' When dey get through de Yankees tell dem dey was\nfree as dey Massa was en give dem so many bushels of corn en so much\nmeat for dey own. Some take dey pile en go on off en some choose to stay\non dere wid dey Missus. She was good to all her colored people en dey\nstay on dere for part de crop. Give dem so much of de crop accordin to\nde chillun dey had to feed. I know dis much, dey all know dey gwine get\n12 bushels of corn a year, if dey ain' get no more. Dat a bushel every\nmonth. Yes, dat how it was.\"\n\n\"O Lord, baby, I don' know a thing bout none of dat thing call conjurin.\nDon' know nothin bout it. Dat de devil work en I ain' bother wid it. Dey\nsay some people can kill you, but dey ain' bother me. Some put dey trust\nin it, but not me. I put my trust in de Lord cause I know it just a talk\nde people have. No, Lord, I can' remember dat neither. I hear dem say\nRaw Head en Bloody Bones would catch you if you be bad, but how it\nstarted, I don' know. I know I don' know nothin bout how dey look en I\ndon' want to see dem neither. No, child, people say dey sho to be, but I\nain' see none. How dey look, I don' know.\"\n\n\"I don' know what to think bout de times dese days. De times worse den\ndey used to be, child. You know dey worse. Dis here a fast time de\npeople livin on cause everybody know de people die out heap faster den\ndey used to. Don' care how dey kill you up. No, child, dey sho worser.\nMy people en yunnah people. Don' it seem so to you dat dey worser?\"\n\n\"Baby, I got to get up from here en leave now cause I huntin medicine\ndis mornin. I ain' got time to tell you nothin else dis time, but I\ngwine get my mind fix up on it en den your old black mammy comin back\nfore long en stay all day wid you en your mamma. What time dat clock say\nit now, honey? I got to hurry en catch de doctor fore he get away from\nhis office en be so scatter bout till nobody can' tell whe' he is. Dr.\nDibble a good doctor, a mighty good doctor. When he come, don' never\ncome in no hurry. Takes pains wid you. Dat been my doctor. I is just\ndevoted to him.\"\n\n Source: Mom Sara Brown, ex-slave, age 85, Marion, S. C.\n Second Report.\n\n Personal interview, September, 1937 by Annie Ruth\n Davis, Marion, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #-1655\n Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler\n Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n Georgetown County\n\n FOLKLORE\n\n (Some recollections of 'The Reb Time day' given by\n Aunt Margaret Bryant)\n\n\nVisitor: \"How are you Aunt Margaret?\"\n\nMargaret: \"Missus, I ain't wuth! I ain't wuth!\"\n\nVisitor: \"Aunt Margaret you've been here a long time. How old are you?\"\n\nMargaret: \"I can't tell you my age no way in the world! When freedom\ncome, I been here. Not big nuff (enough) for work for the Reb, but I\nbeen here Reb time. Been big nuff (enough) to know when Yankee gun-boat\ncome to Watsaw (Wachesaw). Whole gang o' Yankee come to the house and\ndidn't do a thing but ketch (catch) a gang o' fowl and gone on. And tell\nthe people (meaning the slaves) to take the house and go in and get what\nthey want. The obersheer (overseer) hear the Doctor whistle to the gate\nand wabe (wave) him back. And then the Doctor know the Yankee been there\nand he gone on to the creek house and get all he gold and ting (thing)\nout the house and gone--Marion till Freedom then he come back.\n\n\"Yankee come in that night. Moon shine lak a day. Stay in the Doctor\nhouse that night. Morning come, take a gang o' fowl and gone on!\"\n\nVisitor: \"Aunt Margaret, what was your name before you were married?\"\n\nMargaret: \"Margaret One. Brother and sister? I ain't one when I come\nhere. Ain't meet aunty, uncle--none. Me and my brudder Michael wuz twin.\nI ain't meet none when I come here. All been sell. Me and my Ma One\nhere. Mary One. Husband title, husband nichel (initial) been 'One.'\nNumber one carpenter--give 'em that name Michael One--and he gibe 'em\nthat name. Born Sandy Island. Been to landing to Watsaw when gun-boat\ncome. Just a sneak long! Boat white. Hab (have) a red chimbley\n(chimney.) Didn't try to carry we off. Tell 'em 'Go and help youself.'\nBeen after the buckra. (The Yankee trying to catch the buckra.)\n\n\"I see my Ma dye with some bush they call 'indigo,' and black walnut\nbark. Big old pen for the sheep-folds.\n\n\"My Pa sister, Ritta One had that job. Nuss (nurse) the chillun. Chillun\nhouse. One woman nuss (nurse) all the chillun while they ma in the\nfield--rice field. All size chillun. Git the gipsy (gypsum) weed. Beat\n'em up for worm. Give 'em when the moon change. Take a bucket and follow\ndem. And tell the Doctor how much a worm that one make and that one and\ncount dem (them). When the moon change, do that.\n\n\"I have one born with caul. Loss he caul. Rat carry 'em. Ain't here; he\nsee nothin. (The custom seems to be, to preserve the caul.)\n\n\"Child born feet fore-most see 'um too.\" (See spirit) \"Talk chillun? Put\nduh switch. Put you 'Bull pen.' Hab 'um (have them) a place can't see\nyou hand before you. Can't turn round good in there. Left you in there\ntill morning. Give you fifty lash and send you to work. You ain't done\nthat task, man and woman lick!\n\n\"Couldn't manage my ma. Obersheer (overseer) want to lick ma, Mary One\nsay, 'Going drownded meself! I done my work! Fore I take a lick, rather\ndrownded meself.'\" Obersheer gone tell the Doctor. Tie her long rope.\nRight to Sandy Island. Man hold the rope. Gone on. Jump in river. So\nDoctor say, 'You too good labor for drown. Take dem (them) to Watsaw.'\nMe and she and man what paddle the boat. Bring her to weave. Two womans\nfuh card; two spin. Ma wop 'em off. Sail duh sheckel (shuttle) through\nthere.\n\n\"Po-buckra come there and buy cloth from Ma. Buy three and four yard. Ma\nsell that, have to weave day and night to make up that cloth to please\nobersheer. Come big day time. 'Little chillun, whey (where) Mama?' Tell\n'em Ma to the weaving house. Don't have money fuh pay. Bring hog and\nsuch like as that to pay.\n\n\"You know Marse Allard age? Me and Marse Allard suck together. Me and\nMarse Allard and my brudder Michael. My ma fadder mix wid (with) the\nInjun. Son Larry Aikens. Stay Charston (Charlestown). Just as clean!\n(Meaning Larry, her Uncle, very bright skin. Mixed with Indian.) See 'em\nthe one time. Come from Charston bring Doctor two horse.\"\n\n Given by Aunt Margaret Bryant\n Age--(Born before Freedom)\n Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n SAVILLA BURRELL, EX-SLAVE, 83 YEARS\n\n\n\"Our preacher, Beaty, told me that you wanted to see me today. I walked\nthree miles dis mornin' before the sun gits hot to dis house. Dis house\nis my grand daughter's house. Willie Caldwell, her husband, work down to\nde cotton mill. Him make good money and take good care of her, bless the\nLord, I say.\"\n\n\"My Marster in slavery time was Captain Tom Still. He had big plantation\ndown dere on Jackson Crick. My Mistress name was Mary Ann, though she\nwasn't his fust wife--jest a second wife, and a widow when she\ncaptivated him. You know widows is like dat anyhow, 'cause day done had\n'sperience wid mens and wraps dem 'round their little finger and git dem\nunder their thumb 'fore the mens knows what gwine on. Young gals have a\npoor chance against a young widow like Miss Mary Ann was. Her had her\ntroubles with Marse Tom after her git him, I tell you, but maybe best\nnot to tell dat right now anyways.\"\n\n\"Marse Tom had four chillun by his fust wife, dey was John, Sam,\nHenretta and I can't 'member de name of the other one; least right now.\nDey teached me to call chillun three years old, young Marse and say\nMissie. Dey whip you if dey ever hear you say old Marse or old Missie.\nDat riled dem.\"\n\n\"My pappy name Sam. My mother name Mary. My pappy did not live on the\nsame place as mother. He was a slave of de Hamiltons, and he got a pass\nsometimes to come and be with her; not often. Grandmammy name Ester and\nshe belonged to our Marse Tom Still, too.\"\n\n\"Us lived in a log cabin wid a stick chimney. One time de sticks got\nafire and burnt a big hole in de back of de chimney in cold winter time\nwid the wind blowing, and dat house was filled wid fire-sparks, ashes,\nand smoke for weeks 'fore dey tore dat chimney down and built another\njest like the old one. De bed was nailed to de side of de walls. How\nmany rooms? Jest one room.\"\n\n\"Never seen any money. How many slaves? So many you couldn't count dem.\nDere was plenty to eat sich as it was, but in the summer time before us\ngit dere to eat de flies would be all over de food and some was swimmin'\nin de gravy and milk pots. Marse laugh 'bout dat, and say, it made us\nfat.\"\n\n\"Dey sell one of mother's chillun once, and when she take on and cry\n'bout it, Marse say, 'stop dat sniffin' dere if you don't want to git a\nwhippin'.' She grieve and cry at night 'bout it. Clothes? Yes Sir, us\nhalf naked all de time. Grown boys went 'round bare footed and in dey\nshirt tail all de summer.\"\n\n\"Marse was a rich man. 'Fore Christmus dey would kill thirty hogs and\nafter Christmus, thirty more hogs. He had a big gin house and sheep,\ngoats, cows, mules, hosses, turkeys, geese, and a stallion; I members\nhis name, Stockin'-Foot. Us little niggers was skeered to death of dat\nstallion. Mothers used to say to chillun to quiet dem, 'Better hush,\nStockin'-Foot will git you and tramp you down.' Any child would git\nquiet at dat.\"\n\n\"Old Marse was de daddy of some mulatto chillun. De 'lations wid de\nmothers of dese chillun is what give so much grief to Mistress. De\nneighbors would talk 'bout it and he would sell all dem chillun away\nfrom dey mothers to a trader. My Mistress would cry 'bout dat.\n\n\"Our doctor was old Marse son-in-law, Dr. Martin. I seen him cup a man\nonce. He was a good doctor. He give slaves castor oil, bleed dem some\ntimes and make dem take pills.\"\n\n\"Us looked for the Yankees on dat place like us look now for de Savior\nand de host of angels at de second comin'. Dey come one day in February.\nDey took everything carryable off de plantation and burnt de big house,\nstables, barns, gin house and dey left the slave houses.\"\n\n\"After de war I marry Osborne Burrell and live on de Tom Jordan place.\nI'se de mother of twelve chillun. Jest three livin' now. I lives wid the\nMills family three miles 'bove town. My son Willie got killed at de\nDuPont Powder Plant at Hopewell, Virginia, during de World War. Dis\nhouse you settin' in belongs to Charlie Caldwell. He marry my grand\ndaughter, Willie B. She is twenty-three years old.\"\n\n\"Young Marse Sam Still got killed in de Civil War. Old Marse live on. I\nwent to see him in his last days and I set by him and kept de flies off\nwhile dere. I see the lines of sorrow had plowed on dat old face and I\n'membered he'd been a captain on hoss back in dat war. It come into my\n'membrance de song of Moses; 'de Lord had triumphed glorily and de hoss\nand his rider have been throwed into de sea'.\"\n\n\"You been good to listen. Dis is the fust time I can git to speak my\nmind like dis mornin'. All de' people seem runnin' here and yonder,\nafter dis and after dat. Dere is a nudder old slave, I'se gwine to bring\nhim down here Saturday and talk to you again.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg, S. C.\n Sept. 15, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I works on de shares and makes a fair living on a rented farm; don't\nown no land. I was born in Newberry County, near de old Longshore store,\nabout 12 miles northwest of Newberry Courthouse on de Henry Burton\nplace. My parents belonged to Henry Burton in slavery time. He was our\nmarster. I married Betty Burton, a nigger girl whose parents belonged to\nMarse Henry Burton, too.\n\n\"We had a good marster and mistress. Dey give us a good place to sleep\nand lots to eat. He had a big four-acre garden where he raised lots of\nvegetables fer his slaves. He had plenty meat, molasses and bread. We\nground our corn and wheat and made our own feed.\n\n\"Marster wouldn't let anybody bother his slaves. He wouldn't 'low his\noverseers or de padrollers to whip 'em. He never whipped one.\n\n\"We had no school and no church; but was made to go to de white folks\nchurch and set in de gallery. When Freedom come, de niggers begin to git\ndere own church, and built small brush huts called 'brush harbors'.\n\n\"We didn't do work on Saturday afternoons, but went hunting and fishing\nden, while de women folks cleaned up around de place fer Sunday. De\nmarster liked to hunt, and he hunted foxes which was plenty around dere\nden. Now dey is all gone.\n\n\"We danced and had gigs. Some played de fiddle and some made whistles\nfrom canes, having different lengths for different notes, and blowed 'em\nlike mouth organs.\"\n\n Source: C. B. Burton (79), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (9/10/37)\n\n\n\n\n Project #-1655\n Phoebe Faucette\n Hampton County\n\n Folklore\n\n GEORGE ANN BUTLER\n Ex-Slave 75 Years\n\n\nWest of the paved highway at Garnett one may reach, after several miles,\nthe old Augusta Road that follows along the Savannah River from Augusta\nto a landing point a little south of Garnett. Miles from the busy\nhighway, it passes, in quiet majesty, between fields and woods, made\nrich by the river's overflow and heavy dews. Nature has done her best in\nproducing beautiful evergreen trees of immense size and much luxuriant\nshrubbery of many kinds. Live oaks, magnolias, yellow slash pines,\nhollies, and many evergreen shrubs keep the woods even in winter, a\nfascinating wilderness to hunters and nature lovers. On this road George\nAnn Butler lives, and has lived for the seventy-five years of her life.\n\n\"I was born an' raised on de Greenwood place. It belonged to ole man Joe\nBostick. He owned all dese places 'long dese here road. He own de\nBostick place back yonder; den he own de Pipe Creek place next dat; den\nOaklawn; den joinin' dat was Greenwood. De Colcock's Elmwood was next.\nMy Husband was birth right here on de Pipe Creek, an' been here ever\nsince. He kin tell you more'n I kin. I was George Anne Curry before I\nmarry.\n\n\"I can't remember so much 'bout slavery time. I was crawlin' over de\nfloor when slavery time--dey tell me. But atter de war, I 'members.\nCouldn't find no corn seed! Couldn't find no cotton seed! Couldn't find\nno salt! You knows it was hard times when dere wasn't no salt to season\nde vegetables. Had to go down to de salt water an' get de water an'\nboil it for salt. Dat been a long way from here. Must be fifty or sixty\nmile! An' dey couldn't go so fast in dem days. Sufferin' been in de\nneighborhood atter de war pass!\n\n\"Cotton was de thing 'way back yonder. An' right 'long dis road dey'd\nhaul it. Haul it to Cohen's Bluff! Haul it to Matthews Bluff! Haul it to\nParichucla! Don't haul it dis way no more! Send de cotton to de\nrailroad! But in dem days it was de ships dat carried it to Savannah.\nCotton seem to be play out now--dey plant so much.\n\n\"I hear 'em tell 'bout de war, an' havin' to drill an' step when dey say\nstep, an' throw up dey hands, when dey say throw up de hand. Everything\nhad to be done jes' so! De war was sure a terrible thing.\"\n\n Source: George Anne Butler, R. F. D. Garnett, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #-1655\n Phoebe Faucette\n Hampton County\n\n ISAIAH [~HW: Solbert (?)~] BUTLER, EX-SLAVE 79 YEARS\n [~HW: See Ms. #~]\n\n\n\"Yes, dis is Isaiah Butler, piece of him. Ain't much left of him now.\nYes, I knows all 'bout dis heah country from way back. I was born and\nraised right on dis same place here; lived here all my life 'sides from\ntravellin' round a little space. Dere was a rice field not far from dis\nhouse here, where I plowed up more posts that had been used as\nlandmarks! Dis place was de Bostick place, and it jined to de Thomson\nplace, and de Thomson place to Edmund Martin's place dat was turned over\nto Joe Lawton, his son-in-law. Bill Daniel had charge of de rice field I\nwas telling you 'bout. He was overseer, on de Daniel Blake place. Den\ndere was de Maner place, de Trowell, de Kelly, and de Wallace places.\nBack in dem times dey cultivated rice. Had mules to cultivate it! But\ncotton and corn was what dey planted most of all; 4,000 acres I think\ndey tell me was on dis place. I know it supposed to be more than ten\nmiles square. Nobody know de landmarks 'cept me. When de Bostick boys\ncame back from out west last year, dey had to come to me to find out\nwhere dere place was. Dey didn't know nuttin' 'bout it. Dey used to use\ntwenty plow, and de hoe hands was over a hundred, I know.\n\n\"I 'member when de Yankees come through. I was no more'n a lad, nine or\nten years old. Bostick had a big gin-house, barn, stables, and such\nlike. And when de soldiers come a goat was up on de platform in front of\nde door to de loft of de barn. Dere were some steps leadin' up dere and\ndat goat would walk up dem steps same as any body. De fuss thing de\nYankees do, dey shoot dat goat. Den day start and tear up eberyt'ing.\nAll de white folks had refugeed up North, and dey didn't do nuttin' to\nus niggers.\n\n\"Fore dat time I was jes' a little boy too young to do nuttin'. Jes'\nplayed aroun' in de street. Ole Mr. Ben Bostick used to bring clothes\nan' shoes to us and see dat we was well cared for. Dere was nineteen\nhouses in de street for us colored folks. Dey wuz all left by de\nsoldiers. But in de year 1882 dere come a cyclone (some folks call it a\ntornado), and knocked down every house; only left four standing. Pieces\nof clothes and t'ings were carried for four or five miles from here. It\nleft our house; but it took everyt'ing we had. It took de walls of de\nhouse, jes' left de floorin', an' it wus turn 'round. Took everyt'ing!\nI'd jes' been married 'bout a year, and you know how dat is. We jes' had\nto scuffle and scuffle 'roun' till de Lord bless us.\n\n\"Dere wuz plenty of deer, squirrel, possum, an' rabbits in dem times; no\nmore dan dere is now, but dere wuz no hinderance den as now. De deer\ncome right up to my door now; dey come all 'roun' dis house, and we\ncain't do nuttin'. De other day one wuz over dere by dat peachtree, an'\nnot long ago four of 'em come walkin' right through dis yard. I don't go\nfishin' no more. Folks say de streams is all dried up. But I used to be\na good fisherman, me an' me ole woman. She's spryer'n me now. I used to\nallus protect her when we wuz young, an' now its her dat's acarin' for\nme. We had our gardens in de ole days, too. Oh, yes'm. Little patches of\ncollards, greens an' t'ings, but now I ain't able to do nuttin', jes'\nhang 'roun' de place here.\n\n\"My father used to belong to General Butler, Dennis Butler was his name.\nMy mother was a Maner, but originally she wuz draw out of de Robert\nestate. Ole Ben Bostick fuss wife wuz a Robert. Dey wuz sure wealthy\nfolks. One of 'em went off to sail. Bill F. Robert wuz his name. He had\nso much money dat he say dat he goin' to de end of de world. He come\nback an' he say he went so close hell de heat draw de pitch from de\nvessel. But he lost his eyesight by it. Wa'n't (it was not) long after\nhe got back dat he went stone blind.\n\n\"My ole boss, preacher Joe Bostick wuz one of de best of men. He wuz\nhard of hearin' like I is, an' a good ole man. But de ole lady, ole\n\"Miss Jenny\", she wuz very rough. She hired all de overseers, and she do\nall. If'n anybody try to go to de old man wid anyt'ing, she'd talk to\n'em herself an' not let 'em see de old man.\n\n\"In slavery time de slaves wuz waked up every morning by de colored\nover-driver blowin' a horn. Ole man Jake Chisolm wuz his name. Jes' at\ndaybreak, he'd put his horn through a crack in de upper part of de wall\nto his house an' blow it through dat crack. Den de under-driver would go\nout an' round 'em up. When dey done all dey day-work, dey come home an'\ncook dey supper, an' wash up. Den dey blow de horn for 'em to go to bed.\nSometime dey have to out de fire an' finish dey supper in de dark. De\nunder-driver, he'd go out den and see who ain't go to bed. He wouldn't\nsay anyt'ing den; but next mornin' he'd report it to de overseer, an'\ndem as hadn't gone to bed would be whipped.\n\n\"My mother used to tell me dat if any didn't do dey day's work, dey'd be\nput in de stocks or de bill-bo. You know each wuz given a certain task\ndat had to be finish dat day. Dat what dey call de day-work. When dey\nput 'em in de stocks dey tie 'em hand and foot to a stick. Dey could lie\ndown wid dat. I hear of colored folks doin' dat now to dare chillun when\ndey don't do. Now de bill-bo wuz a stabe (stave) drove in de ground, an'\ndey tied dere hands and den dere feet to dat, standin' up. Dey'd work on\nSaturday but dey wuz give Sundays. Rations wuz give out on Mondays.\nEdmund Lawton went over to Louisiana to work on de Catherine Goride\nplace, but he come back, 'cause he say dey blow dey horn for work on\nSunday same as any other day, and he say he wa'n't goin' to work on no\nSunday. Dey didn't have a jail in dem times. Dey'd whip 'em, and dey'd\nsell 'em. Every slave know what, 'I'll put you in my pocket, sir!' mean.\n\n\"De slaves would walk when dey'd go anywhere. If'n dey buy a bunch of\nslaves in New Orleans, dey'd walk by night and day. I 'member when one\nyoung girl come back from refugin' wid de white folks, her feet were\njes' ready to buss open, and dat wuz all. You couldn't travel unless de\nboss give you a pass. De Ku Klan had \"patrol\" all about in de bushes by\nde side of de road at night. And when dey caught you dey'd whip you\nalmost to death! Dey'd horsewhip you. Dey didn't run away nowhere 'cause\ndey knowed dey couldn't.\n\n\"If'n you wanted to send any news to anybody on another plantation, de\noverseer'd write de message for you and send it by a boy to de overseer\nof de other plantation, and he'd read it to de one you wrote to.\n\n\"When de war wuz over, ole man Jones cone over frum Georgia and sell\nt'ings to de colored folks. He'd sell 'em everyt'ing. He took all de\ncolored folks' money!\n\n\"I learned to read when I wuz goin' to school when I wuz about fifteen\nyears old, but I learned most I know after I wuz married, at night\nschool, over on de Morrison place. De colored folks had de school, but\n'course Mr. Morrison was delighted to know dey wuz havin' it. As for\nchurch, in de olden times, people used to, more or less, attend under de\nbush-arbor. In 1875 when I jined de church, ole man John Butler wuz de\npreacher.\n\n\"Ghosts? I'se met plenty of um! When I wuz courtin' I met many a\none--One got me in de water, once. And another time when I wuz crossing\na stream, I wuz on de butt end of de log, an' dey wuz on de blossom end,\nan' we meet jes' as close as I is to you now. I say to him, same as to\nanybody, 'I sure ain't goin' to turn back, and fall off dis log. Now de\nbest t'ing for you to do is to turn 'round and let me come atter (after)\nyou. You jes' got to talk to 'em same as to anybody. It don't pay to be\n'fraid of 'em. So he wheel 'round. (Spirits can wheel, you know.) And\nwhen he get to de end of de log, I say, 'Now you off and I off. You kin\ngo on 'cross now.' Dey sure is a t'ing, all right! Dey look jes' like\nanybody else, 'cept'n it's jes' cloudy and misty like it goin' to pour\ndown rain. But it don't do to be 'fraid of 'em. I ain't 'fraid of\nnuttin', myself. I never see 'em no more. Guess I jes' sorta out-growed\n'em. But dere sure is sech a t'ing, all right! De white folks'd see 'em,\ntoo. I 'member hearin' ole Joe Bostick, de preacher, say to a man, by de\nname of Tinlin, 'Did you hear dat hog barkin' last night? Well, de\nspirit come right in de house. Come right up over de mantlepiece.' I wuz\nin de field workin' same as I allus done, and I hear'd ole Joe horse a\nsnortin'. Ole Joe didn't want nuttin'. He jes' want to see what I wuz\ndoin'.\n\n\"Abraham Lincoln done all he could for de colored folks. But dey cain't\nnone of 'em do nuttin' without de Lord.\"\n\n Source: Isaiah Butler, Garnett, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #-1655\n Phoebe Faucette\n Hampton County\n Approx. 800 Words\n\n SOLBERT BUTLER EX-SLAVE OF 82 YEARS\n\n\nMiles from the highway old Solbert Butler lives alone under the shadow\nof the handsome winter home of an aged northerner upon the same soil\nthat he has seen pass from Southerner to Negro, to Southerner, to\nNortherner. Though shrunken and bent with age he still enjoys talking.\n\n\"I lives in de Deer Country. A couple of months ago, I saw eight in a\ndrove at one time, like a drove of sheep, or sech like. You can't raise\nnuthin' 'round here. Dey'll eat up your garden. And de wild turkey! And\nde partridge! But you can't shoot 'em without de Cassels give you a\nlicense to do it. Now he comin' next month and dere'll be more shootin'!\nBut he aint able to hunt none hisself. He kin ride 'bout in de woods in\nde car. Dey are blessed people, though!\n\n\"Dis used to be de Bostick place. Old Massa Ben Bostick lived fourteen\nmiles from here. Dere was Ben Bostick, Iva Bostick, Joe Bostick, Mr.\nLuther, Eddie Bostick, an' Jennie Jo Bostick. De place was divided up\nbetween 'em. O-oh! I couldn't number de plantations old Mr. Bostick\nowned. I think he owned fifteen plantations! He was de millinery\n(millionaire)! Oh, de Bosticks, O-oh!! De house dey live in, dey call\num--what was it dey call um--de Paradise house. No one go to dat house\nbut only de rich.\n\n\"At Christmas dey'd go up dere. And oh, I couldn't number it! Oh, it was\nparadise. He was good to 'em. An' he whip 'em good, too! Tie 'em to de\nfence post and whip 'em. But I didn't' have anythin' of dat. I was a\nlittle boy. Jes' 'bout six year old when de war broke out. But I got\nplenty of whippin's all right.\n\n\"Massa take me as a little boy as a pet. Took me right in de carriage!\nHad a little bed right by his own an' take care of me. Every morning dey\nbring in dey tray, an' go back. My uncle was a carriage man. Dey kept\ntwo fine horses jes' for de carriage. Massa'd come up to de Street every\nMonday morning with big trays of rations. He'd feed his colored folk,\nden go on back.\"\n\n(Another old ex-slave from the same plantation had said that on Mondays\nthe week's rations were given out.)\n\n\"Dey planted cotton, corn, peas, potatoes, rice--an' dey'd lick you! All\nde time, dey'd lick you. After dey'd lick 'em until de blood come out,\nden dey'd rub de red pepper and salt on 'em. Oh, my God! Kin you say dem\nas done sech as dat aint gone to deir reward? My uncle was so whip he\nwent into de woods, an' live dere for months. Had to learn de\nindependent life. Mr. Aldridge was de overseer. Old Mr. Aldridge gone\nnow. But dere can't be no rest for him. Oh my God no! He do 'em so mean\ndat finally ole Massa hear 'bout it. And when he do hear 'bout it, he\ndischarged him. He had everything discharged--to de colored driver. Den\nhe got Mr. Chisolm. After Mr. Chisolm come in, everythin' jes' as sweet\nan' smooth as could be! Dere's a nice set of people for you--de\nChisolms. Two of 'em livin' now. One at Garnett, an' one at Luray, I\nbelieve.\n\n\"I refugeed wid Massa. Dey come together in Virginia. Dey surrendered in\nVirginia. Set de house afire. And set all dey houses. Dey burned Massa's\ncotton. Over 200 bales! But if'n de colored folks begged for some, dey\nlet 'em have some. I stayed right wid Massa. He carried me everywhere he\nwent. Carried me all de way to Mill Haven, Georgia.\n\n\"After de war de colored folks jes' took an' plant de crop an' make de\nlivin' wid de hoe. Didn't have no mule, no ox, or thin' like dat. When\nole Massa come back, he took de cotton, an' give de colored folks de\ncorn. De Yankees kill all de hog. Kill all de cow. Kill all de fowl.\nLeft you nothin' to eat. If de colored folk had any chicken, dey jes'\nhad to take dat an' try to raise 'em somethin' to eat.\n\n\"I'se a Methodist. I was converted under Elder Drayton--come from\nGeorgia at St. Luke Methodist Church on de Blake Plantation. De Blake\nPlantation right dere. It jines dis one. De ole Methodist white folk's\nchurch where I was baptized been take down. It was called de Union\nChurch. But de cemetery still dere. It right up dere not a mile down de\nroad. Dere was a good ole preacher name of Rev. Winborn Asa Lawton. An'\nde camp meetin'! Oh, Lord, Lord! Dey had over a thousand dere. Come from\nOrangeburg. Come from Aiken! An' come way from Cheraw! Come from\nCharleston, Beaufort, and Savannah! De colored folks got a church now\nup here on what used to be de Pipe Creek place of ole Ben Bostick where\nde white folks used to have a Baptist church. De colored folks church\ncall it Kenyon Church. Dat's de church dey white folks moved to\nLawtonville, den to Estill. But when de colored folks built, dey built\nde church to face de East. Built on de same foundation; but face it\neast, facing a little road dat had sprung up and wind 'round dat way\nright in close to de church. But de white folks church was face west,\nfacing de Augusta road. Dat big space twixt de road and de church was a\ngrove.\n\n\"Ghosts? I used to 'em. I see 'em all de time. Good company! I live over\ndere by myself, an' dey comes in my house all de time. Sometime I walk\nalong at night an' I see 'em. An' when you see 'em you see a sight. Dey\nplay. Dey dance 'round an' 'round. Dey happy all right. But dey'll devil\nyou, too. When dey find out dat you scary, dey'll devil you. Dey don't\ndo nothin' to me. Only talk to me. I'll be in my house an' dey'll come\ntalk to me. Or I'll be walkin' down de road, an' meet 'em. Dey'll pass\nde time of day wid me, Like:\n\n 'Hey, Solbert! How far you goin', Solbert?'\n\n 'I'se jes' goin' down de road a little piece,' I'll say.\n\n 'Uh-huh'.\n\n\"Or sometime dey'll say, 'Mornin', Solbert. How you feeling?'\n\n 'I'se jes' so so'.\n\n 'Uh-huh'.\n\n\"Dey all favors. Dey all looks alike. You remembers when dat car come\ndown de road jes' now? Well, I see a bunch of 'em right den! Dey get out\nde road for dat car to pass. Oh, you can't see 'em. No matter how much I\nshows 'em to you--you can't see 'em. But me! Dey swell wid me. I see 'em\nall de time. De big house up dere. It full of 'em. De white folks see\n'em, too. Dat is some of de white folks. I see de other day a white man\ndat has to work up here start toward de house when de ghosts was comin'\nout thick. When I tell him you ought to see him turn an' run. One of 'em\npush me over in de ditch one time. I say,\n\n 'Now what you done dat for?'\n\n 'Well, dat aint nothin''\n\n 'Aint nothin'. But don't you do dat no more.'\n\n\"I talks to 'em jes' de same as if dey was somebody. Some folks outgrows\n'em. But not me. You have to be born to see 'em. If'n you be born\nwrapped in de caul, you kin see 'em. But if you aint, you can't see\n'em.\"\n\n Source: Solbert Butler, 82 years, R. F. D. Scotia, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n District #4\n Spartanburg, S. C.\n May 31, 1937\n\n FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born on the other side of Maybinton, in Newberry County, South\nCarolina. Old Squire Kenner was my master and his wife, Lucy, my\nmistress. My pa was Joseph Gilliam, who was a slave of John Gilliam, and\nmy mamma was Lou Kenner, who was a slave of Squire Kenner. I stayed with\nmy mamma at Squire Kenner's and waited on my mistress, Mrs. Lucy Kenner,\nwho was the best white woman I know of--just like a mother to me, wish I\nwas with her now. I stayed there 'till my mistress died, was right by\nher bed.\n\n\"It sure was a good place to live. Dey didn't give us money for work but\nwe had enough to eat and place to sleep and a few clothes. Squire had a\nbig farm he got from the Hancocks, some of his kin. He didn't have\noverseers; he looked after his own farms. Master had a big garden and\ngive us lots from it to eat. We hunted 'possums, rabbits, squirrels,\nwild turkeys, on the river. We lived right near Broad River.\n\n\"I remember de padderrolers; dey come to my pa's house and want to come\nin, but pa had an old musket gun and tole them if dey come in dey\nwouldn't go out alive--and dey went away.\n\n\"After the day's work was done, the slaves would set down and talk, and\non Saturday afternoons, they would stay home, go fishing or wash up, and\nsometimes the chaps would go to de river and watch the boats full of\ncotton go by. On Sundays we go to church. They made us go to Baskets\nchurch, de white folks church, and set in the gallery. On Christmas Day\nwe would get time off and master would give us good things to eat. We\nnever had any corn-shuckings and cotton pickings there. All of the\nfamily and the slaves do that work on moon-shiney nights. We had some\ngames we played, like Molly Bright, Hiding Switches, Marbles. We played\non Sunday, too, unless the mistress calls us in and stops us.\n\n\"When a slave got sick we sent for the doctor. We never put much store\nin herb root tea and such like.\n\n\"The Yankees went through Maybinton but didn't get over as far as us.\nSome say they stole cattle and burned ginhouses.\n\n\"Squire Kenner was killed in the war, and when the war was over we\nstayed on with de mistress; she was like a mamma. She had a son who was\nkilled in the war, too. Another son lived there and we worked for him\nafter Mistress died, but he soon moved far away and sold out his\nplantation. His name was Howsen Kenner.\n\n\"I married Walter Cain at Mr. Walter Spearman's house, a good white man,\nand the white folks give us a good supper after the wedding. I had one\nchild, 2 grandchildren, and one great-grand-child. I joined the church\nbefore I married 'cause I wanted to do better, do right and live right,\nand get religion. I think everybody ought to join the church and live\nright. That is the reason the Lord blesses me in lots of ways today. We\nhad good time in slavery--sometimes I wish I was back there--would have\nsomebody to take of you and help you. If my mistress was living I would\nrather be back in slavery.\"\n\n Source: Granny Cain (90), RFD, Newberry; by G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n Sept. 22, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born near the village of Maybinton, and lived on old Squire\nKenner's plantation. Squire Kenner and his wife, mistress Lucy, was good\nto me. My mistress was so good I wish I was living with her now, I sho\nwouldn't have such a hard time getting something to eat. I am old and\nhave rheumatism and can't get about good now.\n\n\"I live with some of my grand children, but they can't make so much for\nus. We manage to eat, though. We rent a two-room house about two miles\nfrom Newberry Courthouse.\n\n\"I don't know nothing about 40 acres of land for the slaves after the\nwar. We just stayed on with the master 'til he died, for wages; then we\nhired out to other people for wages. I don't know nothing 'bout slaves\nvoting after the war. There was no slave up-risings then in our section.\n\n\"Ever since the war was over, the slaves have worked for wages on\nplantations or moved to town and got little jobs here and there where\nthey could. Some of the slaves would rent small farms from land owners\nor work the farms on shares. None of the slaves in our section come from\nVirginia.\"\n\n Source: \"Granny\" Cain (90), Newberry County, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. 8/10/37.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n May 24, 1937\n Edited by: Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in Union County, S. C., not far from the ferry on Tyger\nRiver. My mother was a slave of George R. Tucker who lived on the Enoree\nRiver. I can't remember slavery times nor the war; but I remember about\nthe end of the war when everybody was coming home.\n\n\"My mother was a weaver, going to the white folks' houses and weaving\nclothes for them for small pay. Carding and spinning was done by all the\nwhite families at home.\n\n\"The farms had large gardens and raised most everything to eat. Large\npatches of turnips, cabbage and green vegetables was the custom at that\ntime.\"\n\n Source: Laura Caldwell (77), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. May 20, 1937\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Folklore\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n Dec. 15, 1937\n Edited by: Elmer Turnage\n\n [~HW: (Caldwell~]\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I own a little farm, about 22 acres, and I live on it wid my wife. I\nain't been married but once, but we had 15 chilluns. Dey is all done\nmarried and left us. I is gitting so I can't do much work any more,\n'specially plowing. I lives below Prosperity. I was born above dar, near\nBeaver Dam Creek on de old Davenport place.\n\n\"My daddy was Alfred Caldwell and my mammy was Suella Caldwell. She was\na Nelson. Dem and me belonged to Marse Gillam Davenport. Marse Gillam\nsho was rapid. I saw him whip my mammy till you couldn't put a hand on\nher shoulder and back widout touching a whelp. Marse Gillam killed a man\nand dey put him in Jail in Newberry, but he died befo' de trial come\noff. Atter dat, I was put in de hands of his son, Sam Davenport. Dis was\natter freedom come. He was a purty good man, but my mammy was always\ncareful. At night she say, 'Come in chilluns, I got to fasten de do'\ntight.' We lived in a little log house den. When we moved from dar we\nwent to Dr. Welch's place, jes' dis side of it.\n\n\"De niggers never had any churches till atter de war; den dey used brush\narbors or some old broke-down log house. We never had schools den, not\ntill later. I never had a chance to go a-tall.\n\n\"I 'member de Ku Klux and how dey rid around in white sheets, killing\nall de niggers. De Red Shirts never killed but dey sometimes whipped\nniggers. My daddy voted de Republican ticket den, but I know'd two\nniggers dat was Democrats and rode wid de Red Shirts. Dey was old Zeb\nand old Jeff Bozard.\n\n\"We had a big camp meeting sometimes at a log house dat was called\n'Hannah's Church'. It was named for a nigger man of slavery time. He\nbought de land for de church when freedom come and give it to dem. Dis\nchurch is on de other side of Bush River, near Mr. Boulware's place.\n\n\"In old times we had plenty to eat dat we raised on de farm. We had\ngardens, too. We raised hogs and made our own flour. We never worked on\nSaturday afternoons and Sundays. On Christmas we got together and tried\nto have extra things to eat, and maybe a few drinks.\n\n\"In old times we had lots of corn-shuckings and log-rollings. De niggers\nall around would come and help, den we would git a feast of lamb or pig\nthat was cooked while we was working.\n\n\"Some old folks use to make medicines out of herbs. I 'member my ma\nwould take fever grass and boil it to tea and have us drink it to keep\nde fever away. She used branch elder twigs and dogwood berries for\nchills. Another way to stop chills from coming was to dip a string in\nturpentine, keep it tied around de waist and tie a knot in it every time\nyou had a chill.\n\n\"Abraham Lincoln was a good man. Seems like all de niggers loved him\nlots. I don't know much about Jefferson Davis. Booker Washington was a\ngood man. I 'member he was once in Newberry and I heard him preach in de\nold courthouse. (?)\n\n\"I joined de church when I was 12 years old. In dem days de old folks\nmade chillun go to church when dey was 12 years old, and join den. Dat\nwas de reason I joined. I was a Methodist but I joined de Baptist later,\nbecause, well, I saw dat was de right way.\"\n\n Source: Solomon Caldwell (73), Newberry, S. C. RFD\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. 12/7/37.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon,\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n NELSON CAMERON\n EX-SLAVE 81 YEARS.\n\n\nNelson Cameron and his wife, Mary, together with a widowed daughter,\nRose, and her six children, live in a four-room frame house, two miles\nsouth of Woodward, S. C., about sixty yards east of US highway #21. He\ncultivates about eighty acres of land, on shares of the crop, for Mr.\nBrice, the land owner. He is a good, respectable, cheerful old darkey,\nand devoted to his wife and grandchildren.\n\n\"Marse Wood, Ned Walker, a old Gaillard nigger says as how he was down\nhere t'other day sellin' chickens, where he got them chickens I's not\nhere for to say, and say you wanna see me. I's here befo' you and pleads\nguilty to de charge dat I'm old, can't work much any longer, and is poor\nand needy.\n\n\"You sees dere's a window pane out of my britches seat and drainage\nholes in both my shoes, to let de sweat out when I walks to Bethel\nChurch on Sunday. Whut can you and Mr. Roosevelt do for dis old\nIzrallite a passin' thru de wilderness on de way to de Promise Land? Lak\nto have a little manna and quail, befo' I gits to de river Jordan.\n\n\"My old marster name Sam Brice. His wife, my mistress, tho' fair as de\nlily of de valley and cheeks as pink as de rose of Sharon, is called\n'Darkie.' Dat always seem a misfit to me. Lily or Rose or Daisy would\nhave suited her much more better, wid her laces, frills, flounces, and\nribbons. Her mighty good to de slaves. Take deir part 'ginst de marster\nsometime, when him want to whup them. Sometime I sit on de door-steps\nand speculate in de moonlight whut de angels am like and everytime, my\nmistress is de picture dat come into dis old gray head of mine. You say\nyou don't want po'try, you wants facts?\n\n\"Well, here de facts: My mammy name Clara. Don't forgit dat. I come back\nto her directly. My young mistress was Miss Maggie. Her marry Marse\nRobert Clowney; they call him 'Red-head Bob.' Him have jet red hair. Him\nwas 'lected and went to de Legislature once. No go back; he say dere too\nmuch ding dong do-nuttin' foolishness down dere for him to leave home\nand stay 'way from de wife and chillun half de winter months.\n\n\"Marse Sam never have so pow'ful many slaves. Seem lak dere was more\nwomen and chillun than men. In them days, pa tell me, a white man raise\nniggers just lak a man raise horses or cows. Have a whole lot of mares\nand 'pendin' on other man to have de stallion. Fust thing you know dere\nwould be a whole lot of colts kickin' up deir heels on de place. Lakwise\na white man start out wid a few women folk slaves, soon him have a\nplantation full of little niggers runnin' 'round in deir shirt-tails and\na kickin' up deir heels, whilst deir mammies was in de field a hoeing\nand geeing at de plow handles, workin' lak a man. You ketch de point?\nWell I's one of them little niggers. My pa name Vander. Him b'long to\none of de big bugs, old Marse Gregg Cameron. Marse Gregg, him 'low,\nalways have more money and niggers than you could shake a stick at, more\nland than you could walk over in a day, and more cuss words than you\ncould find in de dictionary. His bark was worser than his bite, tho'. Pa\nwas de tan-yard man; he make leather and make de shoes for de\nplantation. After freedom date, de way he make a livin' for mammy and us\nchillun was by makin' boots and shoes and half solin' them for white\nfolks at Blackstock, S. C. Marse Sam Brice mighty glad for mammy to\ncontact sich a man to be de pappy of her chillun.\n\n\"Us live in a log house wid a little porch in front and de mornin' glory\nvines use to climb 'bout it. When they bloom, de bees would come a\nhummin' 'round and suck de honey out de blue bells on de vines. I\n'members dat well 'nough, dat was a pleasant memory. Is I told you my\nmammy name Clara? My brothers and sisters, who they? George dead, Calvin\ndead, Hattie (name for pa's young mistress) dead, Samson, who got his\near scald off in a pot of hot water, is dead, too. I's existing still. I\ndid mighty little work in slavery times. 'Members not much 'bout de\nYankees.\n\n\"Freedom come, pa come straight as a martin to his gourd, to mammy and\nus pickaninnies. They send us to school at Blackstock and us walk\nfourteen miles, and back, every day to school. At school I meets Mary\nStroud, a gal comin' from de Gaillard quarter. Her eyes was lak twin\nstars. Her hair lak a swarm of bees. All my studyin' books was changed\nto studyin' how to git dat swarm of bees in a hive by myself. One day I\nwalk home from school with her and git old Uncle Tom Walker to marry us,\nfor de forty cents I saved up. Us happy ever since. Nex' year I work for\nBen Calvin, a colored man on de Cockerell place, jinin' de Gaillard\nplace. Us did dat to be near her pappy, Uncle Morris Stroud.\n\n\"All thru them 'Carpet Bag' days my pappy stuck to de white folks, and\nwent 'long wid de Ku Kluxes. His young mistress, Miss Harriet Cameron,\nmarry de Grand Titan of all de Holy invisible Roman Empire. Him name was\nCol. Leroy McAfee. Pappy tell me all 'bout it. Marse Col. McAfee come\ndown from North Ca'lina, and see Marse Feaster Cameron at old Marse\nGregg Cameron's home and want Marse Feaster to take charge down in dis\nState. While on dat visit him fall in love wid Marse Feas's sister,\nHarriet, and marry her. You say Marse Tom Dixon dedicate a book to her,\nde Clansman? Well, well, well! To think of dat. Wish my pappy could a\nknowed dat, de Sundays he'd take dat long walk to Concord Church to put\nflowers on her grave. They all lie dere in dat graveyard, Old Marse\nGregg, Marse Leroy, Miss Harriet, and Marse Feas. De day they bury Marse\nFeas de whole county was dere and both men and women sob when de red\nearth rumbled on his coffin top. Pappy had me by de hand and cried lak a\nbaby, wid de rest of them, dat sad day.\n\n\"Does you 'member de time in 1884, when my pappy made you a pair of\nboots for $10.00 and when you pay him, him knock off one dollar and you\npay him nine dollars? You does? Well dat is fine, for I sure need dat\ndollar dis very day.\n\n\"Does I 'member de day old Marse Gregg die? 'Course I does. It happen\nright here in Winnsboro. Him come down to 'tend John Robinson's Circus.\nHim lak Scotch liquor; de tar smell, de taste, and de 'fect, take him\nback to Scotland where him generate from. Them was bar-room days in\nWinnsboro. De two hotels had bar-rooms, besides de other nine in town.\nMarse Gregg had just finished his drink of Scotch. De parade of de\ncircus was passing de hotel where he was, and de steam piano come by a\ntootin'. Marse Gregg jump up to go to de street to see it. When it pass,\nhim say: 'It's a damn humbug' and drop dead.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project #1855\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n THOMAS CAMPBELL\n EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"Good mornin' Marster Wood! Marster Donan McCants and Marster Wardlaw\nMcCants both been tellin' me dat how you wants to see me but I's been so\npoorly and down at de heels, in my way of feelin', dat I just ain't of a\nmind or disposition to walk up dere to de town clock, where they say you\nwant me to come. Take dis bench seat under de honey suckle vine. It\nshade you from de sun. It sho' is hot! I's surprise dat you take de walk\ndown here to see a onery old man lak me.\n\n\"Yes sir, I was born, 'cordin' to de writin' in de Book, de 15th day of\nMarch, 1855, in de Horeb section of Fairfield District, a slave of old\nMarster John Kennedy. How it was, I don't know. Things is a little mixed\nin my mind. Fust thing I 'members, and dreams 'bout sometimes yet, is\nbein' in Charleston, standin' on de battery, seein' a big ocean of\nwater, wid ships and their white sails all 'bout, de waves leapin' and\ngleamin' 'bout de flanks of de ships in de bright sunshine, thousands of\nwhite birds flyin' 'round and sometimes lighting on de water. My mammy,\nher name Chanie, was a holdin' my hand and her other hand was on de\nhandle of a baby carriage and in dat carriage was one of de Logan\nchillun. Whether us b'long to de Logans or whether us was just hired out\nto them I's unable to 'member dat. De slaves called him Marster Tom. Us\ncome back to Fairfield in my fust childhood, to de Kennedy's.\n\n\"Marster John Kennedy raise more niggers than he have use for; sometime\nhe sell them, sometime he hire them out. Him sell mammy and me to\nMarster James B. McCants and I been in de McCants family ever since,\nbless God!\n\n\"Marse James was a great lawyer in his day. I was his house boy and\noffice boy. When I get older I take on, besides de blackin' of his boots\nand shoes and sweepin' out de office, de position of carriage driver and\nsweepin' out de church. Marster James was very 'ligious. Who my pa was?\nDat has never been revealed to me. Thank God! I never had one, if they\nwas lak I see nigger chillun have today. My white folks was all de\nparents I had and me wid a skin as black as ink. My belly was always\nfull of what they had and I never suffer for clothes on my back or shoes\non my feets.\n\n\"Does I 'members de Yankees? Yes sir, I 'member when they come. It was\ncold weather, February, now dat I think of it. Oh, de sights of them\ndays. They camp all 'round up at Mt. Zion College and stable their\nhosses in one of de rooms. They gallop here and yonder and burn de\n'Piscopal Church on Sunday mornin'. A holy war they called it, but they\nand Wheeler's men was a holy terror to dis part of de world, as naked\nand hungry as they left it. I marry Savannah Parnell and of all our\nchillun, dere is just one left, a daughter, Izetta. Her in Tampa,\nFlorida.\n\n\"Does I 'members anything 'bout de Ku Klux? No sir, nothin'. I was\nalways wid de white folks side of politics. They wasn't concerned 'bout\nme. Marster James have no patience for dat kind of business anyhow. Him\nwas a lawyer and believed in lettin' de law rule in de daylight and\nwould have nothin' to do wid work dat have to have de cover of night and\ndarkness.\n\n\"Does I 'member 'bout de red shirts? Sure I does. De marster never wore\none. Him get me a red shirt and I wore it in Hampton days. What I\nrecollect 'bout them times? If you got time to listen, I 'spect I can\nmake anybody laugh 'bout what happen right in dis town in red shirt\ndays. You say you glad to listen? Well, here goes. One time in '76. de\ndemocrats have a big meetin' in de court house in April. Much talk last\nall day. What they say or do up dere nobody know. Paper come out next\nweek callin' de radicals to meet in de court house fust Monday in May.\nMarster Glenn McCants, a lawyer, was one of old marster's sons. He tell\nme all 'bout it.\n\n\"De day of de radical republican meetin' in de court house, Marster Ed\nAilen had a drug store, so him and Marster Ozmond Buchanan fix up four\nquart bottles of de finest kind of liquor, wid croton-oil in every\nbottle. Just befo' de meetin' was called to order, Marster Ed pass out\ndat liquor to de ring leader, tellin' him to take it in de court house\nand when they want to 'suade a nigger their way, take him in de side\njury rooms and 'suade him wid a drink of fine liquor. When de meetin'\ngot under way, de chairman 'pointed a doorkeeper to let nobody in and\nnobody out 'til de meetin' was over, widout de chairman say so.\n\n\"They say things went along smooth for a while but directly dat\ncroton-oil make a demand for 'tention. Dere was a wild rush for de door.\nDe doorkeeper say 'Stand back, you have to 'dress de chairman to git\npermission to git out'. Chairman rap his gavel and say, 'What's de\nmatter over dere? Take your seats! Parliment law 'quire you to 'dress de\nchair to git permission to leave de hall'. One old nigger, Andy Stewart,\na ring leader shouted: 'To hell wid Parliment law, I's got to git out of\nhere.' Still de doorkeeper stood firm and faithful, as de boy on de\nburnin' deck, as Marster Glenn lak to tell it. One bright mulatto\nnigger, Jim Mobley, got out de tangle by movin' to take a recess for\nten minutes, but befo' de motion could be carried out de croton-oil had\ndone its work. Half de convention have to put on clean clothes and de\ncourt house steps have to be cleaned befo' they could walk up them\nagain. You ask any old citizen 'bout it. Him will 'member it. Ask old\nDoctor Buchanan. His brother, de judge, was de one dat help Marster Ed\nAiken to fix de croton-oil and whiskey.\n\n\"Well, dat seem to make you laugh and well it might, 'cause dat day been\nnow long ago. Sixty-one years you say? How time gits along. Well,\nsixty-one years ago everybody laugh all day in Winnsboro, but Marster Ed\nnever crack a smile, when them niggers run to his drug store and ask him\nfor somethin' to ease their belly ache.\"\n\n\n\n\n Code No.\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, October 5, 1937\n No. Words\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n SYLVIA CANNON,\n Ex-Slave, Age 85\n\n\n\"Yes, mam, I been a little small girl in slavery time. I just can\nremember when I was sold. Me en Becky en George. Just can remember dat,\nbut I know who bought me. First belong to de old Bill Greggs en dat whe'\nMiss Earlie Hatchel bought me from. Never did know whe' Becky en George\nwent. Yes, mam, de Bill Greggs had a heap of slaves cause dey had my\ngrandmammy en my granddaddy en dey had a heap of chillun. My mammy, she\nbelong to de Greggs too. She been Mr. Gregg's cook en I de one name\nafter her. I remembers she didn' talk much to we chillun. Mostly, she\ndid sing bout all de time. Most of de old people sing bout;\n\n 'O Heaven, sweet Heaven,\n When shall I see?\n If you get dere fore me,\n You tell my Lord I on de way.\n O shall I get dere?\n If you get dere fore I do,\n You tell My Lord I on de way.\n O Heaven, sweet Heaven,\n When shall I see?\n O when shall I get dere?'\n\n\"Oh, dat be a old song what my grandmammy used to sing way back dere.\"\n\n\"I don' know exactly how old I is cause de peoples used to wouldn' tell\ndey chillun how old dey was fore dey was grown. I just ain' able to say\nbout my right age, but I know my sister was older den me en she de one\nkeep count us chillun age. She told me I be bout 84 or 85 years old, so\nmy sister tell me. She done gone en left me en I try to keep count, but\nI don' know. Dere been bout 14 head of we chillun en dey all gone but\nme. I de last one. I can tell you dis much, I was just a little small\ngirl when Miss Earlie Hatchel bought me en she wouldn' let me hold de\nbaby cause she was 'fraid I would drop it. I just set dere on de floor\nen set de baby 'tween my legs, but my Lord, Miss Hatchel been so good to\nme dat I stay on dere wid her 8 years after freedom come. Miss Hatchel\ntell me I better stay on dere whe' I can get flour bread to eat. Yes,\nmam, never got a whippin in all my life. Miss Hatchel, she shake me by\nde shoulders once or twice, but never didn' whip me in all my life dat I\nknows of. Dat de reason, when my parents come after me, I hide under de\nbed. My mammy, she went in de name of Hatchel en all her chillun went in\nde name of Hatchel right down dere in de Effingham section.\"\n\n\"No, honey, don' nobody be here wid me. Stays right here by myself. Digs\nin de garden in de day en comes in de house at night. Yes, mam, I\nthought dis house been belong to me, but dey tell me dis here place be\ncity property. Rich man up dere in Florence learn bout I was worth over\n$1500.00 en he tell me dat I ought to buy a house dat I was gettin old.\nSay he had a nice place he want to sell me. I been learned dat what\nwhite folks tell me, I must settle down on it en I give him de money en\ntell him give me de place he say he had to sell me. I been trust white\nfolks en he take my money en settle me down here on city property. He\nsay, 'Mom Sylvia, you stay here long as you live cause you ain' gwine be\nhere much longer.' I promise my God right den not to save no more money,\nchild. People back dere didn' spend money like dey do dese days en dat\nhow-come I had dat money. Dey would just spend money once a year in dat\nday en time. Yes, mam, I pay dat man over $900.00. Been payin on it long\ntime en got it all paid but $187.00 en city find out what dat man had\ndone. City tell me just stay on right here, but don' pay no more money\nout. Dey give me dat garden en tell me what I make I can have.\nCourthouse man tell me dat I ought to drop my thanks to de Heavenly\nFather dat I is free. If de town picks up any sick person, dey bring dem\nhere en tell me do de best I can for dem. Tell me to keep good order so\nde people won' be shame to come en see bout me. Got two houses dere join\ntogether. Dere be four rooms in dis front one en three in de other\nhouse. Woman go up north en leave her things here en tell me if she ain'\ncome back, I could have dem en she ain' come back yet. Been gone two\nyears.\"\n\n\"Yes, mam, I been married twice. First husband die en den another sick\nman come along en ax de city for me. I work on him en make teas for him,\nbut he die in bout two years. I beg de town to let me go out to de poor\nfarm en stay, but dey say I done pay too much to move. Tell me stay on\nhere en keep de house up de best way I can.\n\n\"No'um, I ain' able to do no kind of work much. No more den choppin my\ngarden. Can' hardly see nothin on a sunny day. I raise my own seed all\nright cause sometimes I can' see en find myself is cut up things en dat\nmake me has to plant over another time. City tell me do like I was raise\nen so I been choppin here bout 20 years.\"\n\n\"Oh, now go way from here. My son born in de year of de earthquake en if\nhe had lived, I would been bless wid plenty grandchillun dese days. Yes,\nmam, I remember all bout de shake. Dey tell me one man, Mr. Turner, give\nway his dog two or three days fore de earthquake come en dat dog get\nloose en come back de night of de shake. Come back wid chain tied round\nhis neck en Mr. Turner been scared most to death, so dey tell me. He\nsay, 'Oh, Mr. Devil, don' put de chain on me, I'll go wid you.' Dat was\nhis dog come back en he thought it was de devil come dere to put de\nchain on him. Yes, mam, dere was such a cuttin up every which a way\ncause de people thought it was de Jedgment comin. I went a runnin dere\nto de white folks house en such a prayin en a hollerin, I ain' never see\nde like fore den en ain' see it since den neither. Dere was stirrin\neverywhe' dat night en de water in de well was just a slashin. I tried\nto pray like de rest of de people. Some say dey was ready to get on de\nold ship of Zion. I cut loose from de white folks en went in de woods to\npray en see a big snake en I ain' been back since. I know dat ain' been\nnothin but a omen en I quit off cuttin up. I know it ain' been no need\nin me gwine on like dat cause I ain' never do no harms dat I knows of.\"\n\n\"Yes, mam, white folks had to whip some of dey niggers in slavery time,\ndey be so mean. Hear tell bout some of dem would run away en go in de\nwoods en perish to death dere fore dey would come out en take a whippin.\nSome was mean cause dey tell stories on one another en been swear to it.\nMy mammy tell me don' never tell nothin but de truth en I won' get no\nwhippin. I been raise up wid de white folks en I tell de truth, I can'\nhardly stand no colored people.\"\n\n\"Oh, honey, dere won' no such thing as cotton mill, train, sawmill or\nnothin like dat in my day. People had to set dere at night en pick de\nseed out de cotton wid dey own hands. Didn' hear tell bout no telephone\nnowhe' in dem days en people never live no closer den three en four\nmiles apart neither. Got old Massa horn right in dat room dere now dat\nhe could talk on to people dat be 16 miles from whe' he was. Come in\nhere, child, en I'll let you see it. See, dis old horn been made out of\nsilver money. You talks in dat little end en what you say runs out dat\nbig end. Man ax me didn' I want to sell it en I tell him I ain' got no\nmind to get rid of it cause it been belong to old Massa. Den if I get\nsick, I call on it en somebody come. Wouldn' take nothin for it, honey.\"\n\n\"Times was sho better long time ago den dey be now. I know it. Yes, mam,\nI here frettin myself to death after dem dat gone. Colored people never\nhad no debt to pay in slavery time. Never hear tell bout no colored\npeople been put in jail fore freedom. Had more to eat en more to wear\nden en had good clothes all de time cause white folks furnish\neverything, everything. Dat is, had plenty to eat such as we had. Had\nplenty peas en rice en hog meat en rabbit en' fish en such as dat.\nColored people sho fare better in slavery time be dat de white folks had\nto look out for dem. Had dey extra crop what dey had time off to work\nevery Saturday. White folks tell dem what dey made, dey could have.\nPeoples would have found we colored people rich wid de money we made on\nde extra crop, if de slaves hadn' never been set free. Us had big rolls\nof money en den when de Yankees come en change de money, dat what made\nus poor. It let de white people down en let us down too. Left us all to\nbout starve to death. Been force to go to de fish pond en de huckleberry\npatch. Land went down to $1.00 a acre. White people let us clear up new\nland en make us own money dat way. We bury it in de ground en dat\nhow-come I had money. I dig mine up one day en had over $1500.00 dat I\nbeen save. Heap of peoples money down dere yet en dey don' know whe' to\nfind it.\"\n\n Source: Sylvia Cannon, age 85, ex-slave, Marion St., Florence,\n S. C.\n Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, October, 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Code No.\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, August 4, 1937\n No. Words ----\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n SYLVIA CANNON\n Ex-Slave, Age 85.\n Florence, S. C.\n\n\n\"I lives here by myself cause my husband been dead three years. Moved\nhere fore my chillun went to de war. I go to work en buy dis here home\nen get whe' I can' pay tax en people tell me not to move. Say, rent me\nbed en catch me a dollar, if it ain' a sin to rent your bed for a\ndollar. One of de big officers of de town tell me dat last week en he\ndie next day. Government take my house en when dey carry sick peoples\nfrom de jail, dey bring em here fore dey die. It ain' but one night\njourney. Ain' gwine let dem be live enough to run away. Ain' got no kin\nto leave de house to en dey tell me stay on here. Dey say I work so hard\nto get dis house dat dey ain' gwine make me leave here.\"\n\n(Aunt Sylvia has a sign in her front yard. It seems she took the frame\nof a large picture and inserted a piece of pasteboard into it. She\nexplained that this sign is a warning to evil doers not to molest her.\nShe says that they must not come past this sign. The words on the sign\nare somewhat illegibly written. The interviewers were able to make out\nthese words: \"This is a house of the Lord. Don't go pass. This is a\nhouse of the Lord....\" Sign is dated March 1, 1937).\n\n\"I don' know how old I is, but I remembers I was 8 years old when\nfreedom come. I born down dere in de Effingham section on Mr. Gregg\nplantation. My half-sister say I must always remember de Christmas day\ncause dat de day I was born. Father en mother belong to de old Bill\nGreggs en dat whe' Miss Earlie Hatchel buy me from. After dat, I didn'\nnever live wid my parents any more, but I went back to see dem every two\nweeks. Got a note en go on a Sunday evenin en come back to Miss Hatchel\non Monday. Miss Hatchel want a nurse en dat how-come she buy me. I\nremembers Miss Hatchel puttin de baby in my lap en tell me don' drop\nhim. Didn' have to do no work much in dem days, but dey didn' allow me\nto play none neither. When de baby sleep, I sweep de yard en work de\ngarden en pick seed out de cotton to spin. Nursed little while for Miss\nHatchel en den get free.\"\n\n\"I see em sell plenty colored peoples away in dem days cause dat de way\nwhite folks made heap of dey money. Coase dey ain' never tell us how\nmuch dey sell em for. Just stand em up on a block bout three feet high\nen a speculator bid em off just like dey was horses. Dem what was bid\noff didn' never say nothin neither. Don' know who bought my brothers,\nGeorge en Earl. (She cried after this statement). I see em sell some\nslaves twice fore I was sold en I see de slaves when dey be travelin\nlike hogs to Darlington. Some of dem be women folks lookin like dey\ngwine to get down dey so heavy.\"\n\n\"We fare good in dat day en time. Everybody round dere fare good. My\nMassa always was good to his slaves cause all de colored people say he\nwas good man to us. Dey never whip me in all my life. Tell me if I don'\nknow how to do anything to tell dem en dey show me how. I remembers Miss\nHatchel caught en shook me one time en when I tell her husband, he tell\nher to keep his hands off his little Nigger. Dey all was good to me.\nWhen I start home to see my mamma, dey cry after me till I come back.\nMany a time my Missus go work in de field en let me mind de chillun.\"\n\n\"We live in de quarter bout 1/2 mile from de white folks house in a one\nroom pole house what was daubed wid dirt. Dere was bout 20 other colored\npeople house dere in de quarter dat was close together en far apart too.\nDe ground been us floor en us fireplace been down on de ground. Take\nsticks en make chimney cause dere won' no bricks en won' no saw mills to\nmake lumber when I come along. Oh, my white folks live in a pole house\ndaubed wid dirt too. Us just had some kind of home-made bedstead wid\npine straw bed what to sleep on in dem days. Sew croaker sack together\nen stuff em wid pine straw. Dat how dey make dey mattress. Didn' get\nmuch clothes to wear in dat day en time neither. Man never wear no\nbreeches in de summer. Go in his shirt tail dat come down to de knees en\na 'oman been glad enough to get one piece homespun frock what was made\nwid dey hand. Make petticoat out of old dress en patch en patch till\ncouldn' tell which place weave. Always put wash out on a Saturday night\nen dry it en put it back on Sunday. Den get oak leaves en make a hat\nwhat to wear to church. We didn' never have but one pair of shoes a year\nen dey was dese here brogans wid thick soles en brass toes. Had shop\ndere on de plantation whe' white man made all de shoes en plows. Dey\nwould save all de cowhide en soak it in salt two or three weeks to get\nde hair off it en dey have big trough hewed out whe' dey clean it after\ndey get de hair off it. After dat, it was turn to de man at de shop.\"\n\n\"I remembers when night come on en we go back to de quarter, we cook\nbread in de ashes en pick seed from de cotton en my mamma set dere en\nsew heap of de time. Den I see em when dey have dem hay pullings. Dey\ntote torch to gather de hay by en after dey pull two or three stacks of\nhay, dey have a big supper en dance in de road en beat sticks en blow\ncane. Had to strike fire on cotton wid two rocks cause dey didn' have no\nmatch in dem days.\"\n\n\"I tellin you my Missus sho was good to me in dat day en time. She been\nso good to me dat I stay dere wid her 20 year after I got free. Stay\ndere till I marry de old man Isenia Cannon. You see my old Massa got\nkilled in de war. She tell me I better stay whe' I can get flour bread\nto eat cause she make her own flour en bake plenty biscuit in de oven.\nDen she kill hogs en a cow every Christmas en give us all de egg-nog en\nliquor we want dat day. Dig hole in de ground en roast cow over log\nfire. When I get hard up for meat en couldn' get nothin else, I catch\nrabbits en birds. Make a death trap wid a lid en bait it wid cabbage en\ncorn en catch em dat way. Den another time, I dig deep hole in de ground\nen dob it wid clay en fill it up wid water. Rabbits hunt water in de\nnight en fall in dere en drown. I used to set traps heap of times to\nkeep de rabbits from eatin up de people gardens. Folks eat all kind of\nthings durin de war. Eat honeysuckle off de low sweet bush after de\nflower falls off en pine mass dat dey get out de burr en sour weeds.\nWouldn' nobody eat dem things dese days. Coase dey let de slaves have\nthree acres of land to a family to plant for dey garden. Work dem in\nmoonlight nights en on a Saturday evenin.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, dey have white overseers den. I hear some people say dey was\ngood people. At night de overseer would walk out to see could he catch\nany of us walkin widout a note en to dis day, I don' want to go nowhe'\nwidout a paper. It just like dis, de overseer didn' have to be right\nbehind you to see dat you work in dem days. Dey have all de fields name\nen de overseer just had to call on de horn en tell you what field to go\nwork in dat day. Den he come along on a Saturday evenin to see what you\ndone. If you ain' do what he say do, he put de Nigger dog on you en he\nrun you all night till he find you. No matter whe' you hide, he find\nyou en hold you till de overseer get dere. Bite you up if dey get reach\nof you. When de overseer come, he carry you to de stables en whip you.\nDey dat ain' never got no whipping, you can' do nothin wid dem dese\ndays.\"\n\n\"I got Miss Hatchel horn bout here now dat been through nearly 100 head\nof people. If you talk on it, dere de 100 head of automobiles to see\nwhat it is. I sold old Massa's sword last week for ten cents, but I ain'\ngwine do away wid his old horn. (4 ft. long, 15 in. cross big end 1 in.\nfrom top end. Mouth piece is gone. Catch about 15 in. from top). Can\ntalk to anybody 15 to 16 miles away en dat how-come I don' want to sell\nit cause if anything happen, I can call people to come. Dis horn ain' no\ntin, it silver. It de old time phone. Got old Massa maul too en dis here\nGrandpa oxen bit dat was made at home.\"\n\n\"De white folks didn' never help none of we black people to read en\nwrite no time. Dey learn de yellow chillun, but if dey catch we black\nchillun wid a book, dey nearly bout kill us. Dey was sho better to dem\nyellow chillun den de black chillun dat be on de plantation. Northern\nwomen come dere after de war, but dey didn' let em teach nobody nothin.\"\n\n\"I go to church wid my white folks, but dey never have no church like\ndey have dese days. De bush was dey shelter en when it rain, dey meet\nround from one house to another. Ride to church in de ox cart cause I\nhad to carry de baby everywhe' I go. White folks didn' have no horse\nden. De peoples sho been blessed wid more religion in dem days den dese\ndays. Didn' never have to lock up nothin den en if you tell a story, you\nget a whippin. Now de peoples tell me to tell a story. I been cleanin up\na lady porch en she tell me to tell anybody what come dere dat she ain'\nhome. A lady come en ax fer her en I tell her she say anybody come here,\ntell em I ain' home. If you don' believe she here, look in de bedroom.\nMiss Willcox come out dere en beat me in de back. I tell her don' read\nde Bible en tell me to tell a story. I ain' gwine tell no story cause my\nwhite folks learnt me not to do dat. I knows people was better in dem\ntimes den dey is now. Dey teach you how you ought to treat your neighbor\nen never hear no bad stories nowhe'. Massa en Missus taught me to say a\nprayer dat go like dis:\n\n \"De angels in Heaven love us,\n Bless mamma en bless papa,\n Bless our Missus,\n Bless de man dat feedin us,\n For Christ sake.\"\n\n\"De peoples use herb medicines for dey cures in dem days dat dey get out\nde woods. I make a herb medicine dat good for anything out de roots of\nthree herbs mix together. Couldn' tell you how I make it cause dat\nwould ruin me. Town people try to buy de remedy from me, but Dr. McLeod\ntell me not to sell it. Dey offer me $1500.00 for it, but I never take\nit.\"\n\n\"You want my mind, my heart, de truth en I gwine tell you it just like I\nsee it. Since de colored peoples got de law, dey get in all kind of\ndevilment. Dat how-come if I had to go back, I would go back to slavery\nen stay wid my white folks.\"\n\n Source: Sylvia Cannon, ex-slave, age 85, Florence. S. C.\n\n Personal interview by H. Grady Davis and Mrs.\n Lucile Young, and written up in question and\n answer form. Rewritten in story form by Annie Ruth\n Davis.\n\n\n FUNERAL SONG\n\n Star in de east en star in de west,\n I wish de star was in my breast.\n Mother is home, sweet home,\n Mother is home, sweet home,\n Want to join de angel here.\n What a blessed home, sweet home,\n What a blessed home, sweet home,\n Want to join de angel here.\n\n(You can sing bout father, brother, sister en all.)\n\n Sylvia Cannon,\n\n Ex-Slave, age 85,\n May 21, 1937,\n Florence, S. C.\n\n\n FUNERAL SONG\n\n Come ye dat love de Lord,\n En let your joys be known.\n Hark from de tomb,\n En hear my tender voice.\n By de grace of God I'll meet you\n On Canaan Happy Shore.\n Oh, mother, where will I meet you on Canaan Happy Shore?\n En by de grace of God I'll meet you on Canaan Happy Shore.\n\n(Shaking hands, marching around grave. White en Colored marched from\nchurch to graveyard. Old people in de ox cart en young people walking.\nDidn' have coffins like dey do now. Build de coffin en black it wid\nsmut. Blacksmith make de nails. Could see in de box.)\n\n Sylvia Cannon,\n Ex-Slave, age 85,\n May 21, 1937,\n Florence, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project No. 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Mrs. Genevieve Chandler\n Place, Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n Date, March 25, 1937\n Typed by M. C., N. Y. A.\n No Words ----\n Reduced from Words ----\n Rewritten by ----\n\n [~HW: Georgetown Co~]\n [~HW: HEAVEN'S GATE CHURCH~]\n\n (Verbatim conversation by Uncle Albert Carolina.):\n\n\nWhen asked about the founding of Heaven's Gate colored Methodist\nchurch Rev. Albert Carolina answered:\n\n \"In the beginning of Freedom they separate us from whites.\n 'Sixty one the war begun;\n Sixty four the war was o'er.\"\n\n\"Rev. Zacharias Duncan wuz the man. He the one built Heaven Gate church.\nBrother Henry Smith and Brother David Kidd and old man Jackson Heywood\nwuz the old ones built it. Some more been there. Can't think of them.\nOld man Jim Beaty wuz one. Can't remember no more. He wuz Allston man.\n(That means he was a slave owned by the Allstons) Uncle Dave Kidd, he\nowned a tract of land in the Savannah.\n\n\"Brought us up in Sabbus (Sabbath) school. Sunrise prayer-meeting. Ten\no'clock Sunday school. Leven o'clock the service. Three o'clock service\nagain. Eight at night--service again. Raise us taughen (taught) in the\nchurch. Steal off Slavery time in they own house and have class meeting.\nDriver come find'em, whip'em. Th' patrolls come riding down th' road.\nFour plait whip. Two big black dog. White pat-roller. Ketch without\npass, they whip me. Crawling. (I was crawling). But I walk then and walk\nevery since! Bo-cart. Dat's what they call it--'Bo-cart'. (Crude home\nmade baby walker.) Bout seventy seven years since I start. Remember\nnother thing going on in them time. Mausser gin (give) the women a task.\nDidn't done it. Next day didn't done it. Saturday come, task time out!\nDriver! I tell yuh th' truth, you could hear those people, 'Murder!\nMurder!'\n\n\"Judge Kershaw was a fine man. His boy William--I and William born the\nsame day.\n\n\"We never has met th' bed yet, without family prayer--and never get up\nwithout it. Didn't low them with a book in they hand. The Driver learn\nyou at night if he like you. Try to out-wage (educate) you at night.\nDidn't have any school.\n\n\"Mother's father Indian. Brighter than, who? Who round here bright as my\nGrand-father? Hannah! Hair was long. Wouldn't stay home. Lives in th'\nswamp. Wouldn't stay out. Grandmother wuz African. She had a little bowl\nmake out of clay.\"\n\n Uncle Albert Carolina, age 87 (colored)\n Murrells Inlet, S. C.\n March 8th, 1937.\n\n(A description followed of how his grand-parents built a kiln of clay\npots and baked them.)\n\n\n\n\n Project #-1655\n Phoebe Faucette\n Hampton County\n\n SILVIA CHISOLM\n Ex-Slave 88 Years Old\n\n\n\"Aunt Silvie\", sitting out in the sunshine in the yard of a small negro\ncabin, on a warm day in January, seemed very old and feeble. Her answers\nto questions were rather short and she appeared to be preoccupied.\n\n\"I been fifteen year old when de Yankee come--fifteen de sixth of June.\nI saw 'em burn down me Massa's home, an' everythin'. I 'members dat. Ole\nman Joe Bostick was me Massa. An' I knows de Missus an' de Massa used to\nwork us. Had de overseer to drive us! Work us till de Yankees come! When\nYankee come dey had to run! Dat how de buildin' burn! Atter dey didn't\nfind no one in it, dey burn! De Marshall house had a poor white woman in\nit! Dat why it didn't burn! My Massa's Pineland place at Garnett was\nburn, too. Dey never did build dis un (one) back. Atter dey come back,\ndey build deir house at de Pineland place.\n\n\"I wus mindin' de overseer's chillun. Mr. Beestinger was his name! An'\nhis wife, Miss Carrie! I been eight year old when dey took me. Took me\nfrom me mother an' father here on de Pipe Creek place down to Black\nSwamp. Went down forty-two mile to de overseer! I never see my mother or\nmy father anymore. Not 'til atter freedom! An' when I come back den I\nbeen married. But when I move back here, I stay right on dis Pipe Creek\nplace from den on. I been right here all de time.\n\n\"Atter I work for Mr. Beestinger, I wait on Mr. Blunt. You know Mr.\nBlunt, ain't you? His place out dere now.\n\n\"Mr. Bostick was a good ole man. He been deaf. His chillun tend to his\nbusiness--his sons. He was a preacher. His father was ole man Ben\nBostick. De Pipe Creek Church was ole Missus Bostick's Mammy's church.\nWhen de big church burn down by de Yankees, dey give de place to de\ncolored folks. Stephen Drayton was de first pastor de colored folks had.\nDey named de church, Canaan Baptist Church. Start from a bush arbor. De\nwhite folks church was paint white, inside an' out. It was ceiled\ninside. Dis church didn't have no gallery for de colored folks. Didn't\nmake no graveyard at Pipe Creek! Bury at Black Swamp! An' at\nLawtonville! De people leave dat church an' go to Lawtonville to\nworship. Dey been worshipping at Lawtonville ever since before I could\nwake up to know. De Pipe Creek Church jes' stood dere, wid no service in\nit, 'til de Yankee burn it. De church at Lawtonville been a fine church.\nDidn't burn it! Use it for a hospital durin' de war!\n\n\"I'se 88 year old now an' can't remember so much. An' I'se blind! Blind\nin both eye!\"\n\n Source: Silvia Chisolm, R. F. D. Estill, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n Stiles M. Scruggs\n Columbia, S. C.\n\n AN EX-SLAVE WHO CLIMBED UP\n WITH WHITE FOLKS.\n\n\nTom Chisolm, a sixty-two year old bricklayer, 11 Railroad Street,\nColumbia, S. C., is a son of Caesar Chisolm, who represented Colleton\nCounty in the South Carolina House of Representatives for ten years.\nCaesar was one of the few leading Negroes, who voted and spoke for the\nDemocratic Party and was friendly to the leaders of white supremacy\nuntil he died in 1897. Tom relates the following story:\n\n\"My daddy was born in slavery and he was always treated good by his\nmaster, de late Jimeson Chisolm, of Colleton County. He could read and\nfigure up 'most anything, when he was set free, and he had notions of\nhis own, too. For instance, he marry my mammy. She die soon after I was\nborn, and daddy say to me: 'Son, your mammy is gone, but you need not\nfear dat any other woman will ever boss you. I's through with wives.'\nAnd he never marry again.\n\n\"I come to Columbia with him, when he serve in de Legislature. When he\ntell de niggers and white folks, back in Colleton, dat he was not aimin'\nto run for de Legislature no more, they was sad. One time I go with him\nto Smoak's, where Congressman George D. Tillman was to speak on one of\nhis campaigns. I felt pretty big, when Congressman Tillman smile and\ngrasp de hand of my daddy and say: 'You's goin' to say a few words for\nme befo' I starts, eh, Chisolm?' 'I sho' will, if you laks,' say my\ndaddy. Soon he mount de platform, and befo' he say a word, both de white\nand de niggers clap deir hands and stamp deir feets and smile. My daddy\nbow, smile, and say: 'Ladies and gentlemen: We, us, and company sent\nGeorge Tillman to Congress long ago and knows what he has done. Now we's\ngwine to send him back, and I is a little in doubt as to whether he is\ngwine to take us to Washington, or bring Washington down here!' He say,\nhe jus' git started. But de crowd was laughin', dancin', and huggin' de\nCongressman, and daddy laugh and set down.\n\n\"He introduce Master Duncan Clinch Heyward at Walterboro in 1902, when\nMaster Heyward was making his first race for governor. He raise such\nlaughter and pay so many witty compliments to Master Heyward, dat\nGovernor Heyward, when he was 'lected, appoint my daddy to an office in\nColumbia, and we come to Columbia to live in 1903. My daddy retire at de\nsame time dat Governor Heyward quit office, in 1907. He later wrote\ninsurance on de lives of niggers, and he prosper.\n\n\"'Bout 1885, my daddy happen to be walkin' near de corner of Gervais and\nPulaski streets, and two niggers meet dere at de time and begin to\nquarrel. My daddy stop and watch them awhile. One of them niggers kill\nde other, and some time afterward a nigger lawyer come to see my daddy\nand ask him: 'Wasn't you dere?' 'I sho' was,' say my daddy. De nigger\nlawyer laugh and slap daddy on de back and say: 'Come on.' Daddy come\nback in a few hours pretty tipsy. 'Dat lawyer spend a lot on me,' say\ndaddy, 'but de fool never let me tell him jus' what I knows.'\n\n\"A day or two afterward he was in de witness box. De nigger lawyer say:\n'Now, Mister Chisolm, tell your tale in your own way.' Daddy say: 'I saw\nde defendant and de man, now dead, as they meet. They glare at each\nother and begin to talk harsh and cuss each other. Then, one strike at\nde other and they back 'way and begin to reach in deir hind pockets.'\nDaddy stop, and de nigger lawyer fairly scream: 'Yes, yes, go on!' 'That\nall I saw,' say my daddy, 'cause I run to cover. I made it to de next\ncorner in nothin' flat and pick up speed afterward. So I was two blocks\n'way, when I hear de shootin'!' De nigger lawyer nearly faint. He say:\n'Who bought you off?' Daddy say he would have told him at de start, if\nhe'd had de chance.\n\n\"At another time, we was down on de 700 block of Wayne Street, at a\nnigger gatherin'. We often spend days down dere collectin' weekly\ninsurance dues, and we knowed most of de people. Dere happen to be a\nyoung nigger dere, back from de West for a visit, and he was a great\nbragger. He was tellin' 'bout corn in Texas. 'Dere,' he said, 'corn grow\ntwenty feet high, with stalks as big as the arm of John L. Sullivan,\nwhen he whupped Kilrain, and half a dozen big ears on each stalk.' De\ncrowd was thunderstruck.\n\n\"My daddy cleared his throat and say: 'Dat am nothin' in de way of corn.\nOne day I was walkin' past a forty-acre patch of corn, on de Governor\nHeyward plantation by de Combahee River and de corn was so high and\nthick, I decide to ramble through it. 'Bout halfway over, I hears a\ncommotion. I walks on and peeps. Dere stands a four-ox wagon backed up\nto de edge of de field, and two niggers was sawin' down a stalk. Finally\nthey drag it on de wagon and drive off. I seen one of them, in a day or\ntwo, and asks 'bout it. He say: 'We shelled 366 bushels of corn from dat\none ear, and then we saw 800 feet of lumber from de cob.'\n\n\"Dat young man soon slip out from de crowd and has never been seen here\nsince. I thinks daddy was outdone with me, 'cause I was not quickwitted\nand smart, lak him. He tell me once: 'You must learn two good trades,\nand I think carpenterin' and brick-layin' safest.' I done that, and I\nhas never been sorry, 'cause I's made a good livin'. Governor Heyward\nwas always a good friend of daddy, and he was proud to see us makin'\ngood in de insurance business.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n May 24, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born near old Bush River Baptist Church, in Newberry County, S.\nC. I was the slave of John Satterwhite. My mother lived with them. I was\na small girl when the war was on. My brother went to war with Marse\nSatterwhite. When de Ku Klux and paddrollers traveled around in that\nsection, they made Mr. Satterwhite hold the niggers when they was\nwhipped, but he most all the time let them loose, exclaiming, 'they got\nloose'--he did not want many of them whipped.\n\n\"My mother had a kitchen way off from the house, wid a wide fireplace\nwhere she cooked victuals. There was holes in back of de chimney with\niron rods sticking out of them to hold de pans, pots, kettles or\nboilers.\n\n\"People there did not believe much in ghosts. They were not much\nsuperstitious, but one time some of the negroes thought they heard the\nbenches in Bush River Baptist Church turn over when nobody was in the\nchurch.\n\n\"Negroes most always shouted at their religious meetings. Before de\nnegroes had their own church meetings, the slaves went to the white\nfolks' Bush River Baptist church and set up in the gallery. I moved to\nNewberry when I was young, after I got married.\"\n\n Source: Maria Cleland, Newberry, S. C. (80 years old).\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (5/17/37)\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n PETER CLIFTON\n EX-SLAVE, 89 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"You want me to start wid my fust memory and touch de high spots 'til\ndis very day? Dat'll take a long time but I glad to find someone to tell\ndat to; I is! I 'members when I was a boy, drivin' de calves to de\npasture, a highland moccasin snake rise up in de path. I see dat forked\ntongue and them bright eyes right now. I so scared I couldn't move out\nmy tracks. De mercy of de Lord cover me wid His wings. Dat snake uncoil,\ndrop his head, and silently crawl away. Dat was on de Biggers Mobley\nplace 'tween Kershaw and Camden, where I was born, in 1848.\n\n\"My pappy name Ned; my mammy name Jane. My brudders and sisters was Tom,\nLizzie, Mary, and Gill. Us live in a log house wid a plank floor and a\nwooden chimney, dat was always ketchin' afire and de wind comin' through\nand fillin' de room wid smoke and cinders. It was just one of many\nothers, just lak it, dat made up de quarters. Us had peg beds for de old\nfolks and just pallets on de floor for de chillun. Mattresses was made\nof wheat straw but de pillows on de bed was cotton. I does 'member dat\nmammy had a chicken feather pillow she made from de feathers she saved\nat de kitchen.\n\n\"My grandpappy name Warren and grandmammy name Maria. De rule on de\nplace was: 'Wake up de slaves at daylight, begin work when they can see,\nand quit work when they can't see'. But they was careful of de rule dat\nsay: 'You mustn't work a child, under twelve years old, in de field'.\n\n\"My master's fust wife, I heard him say, was Mistress Gilmore. Dere was\ntwo chillun by her. Master Ed, dat live in a palace dat last time I\nvisit Rock Hill and go to 'member myself to him; then dere was Miss Mary\ndat marry her cousin, Dr. Jim Mobley. They had one child, Captain Fred,\ndat took de Catawba rifles to Cuba and whip Spain for blowin' up de\nMaine. You say you rather I talk 'bout old master and de high spots?\nWell, Master Biggers had a big plantation and a big mansion four miles\nsoutheast of Chester. He buy my mammy and her chillun in front of de\ncourt house door in Chester, at de sale of de Clifton Estate. Then he\nturn 'round and buy my pappy dere, 'cause my mammy and sister Lizzie was\ncryin' 'bout him have to leave them. Mind you I wasn't born then.\nMarster Biggers was a widower then and went down and courted de widow\nGibson, who had a plantation and fifty slaves 'tween Kershaw and Camden.\nDere is where I was born.\n\n\"Marster had one child, a boy, by my mistress, Miss Sallie. They call\nhim Black George. Him live long enough to marry a angel, Miss Kate\nMcCrorey. They had four chillun. Dere got to be ninety slaves on de\nplace befo' war come on. One time I go wid pappy to de Chester place.\nSeem lak more slaves dere than on de Gibson place. Us was fed up to de\nneck all de time, though us never had a change of clothes. Us smell\npretty rancid maybe, in de winter time, but in de summer us no wear very\nmuch. Girls had a slip on and de boys happy in their shirt tails.\n\n\"Kept fox hounds on both places. Old Butler was de squirrel and 'possum\ndog. What I like best to eat? Marster, dere is nothin' better than\n'possum and yallow sweet 'taters. Right now, I wouldn't turn dat down\nfor pound cake and Delaware grape wine, lak my mistress use to eat and\nsip while she watch my mammy and old Aunt Tilda run de spinnin' wheels.\n\n\"De overseer on de place was name Mr. Mike Melton. No sir, he poor man\nbut him come from good folks, not poor white trash. But they was cussed\nby marster, when after de war they took up wid de 'publican party. Sad\nday for old marster when him didn't hold his mouth, but I'll get to dat\nlater.\n\n\"Marster Biggers believe in whippin' and workin' his slaves long and\nhard; then a man was scared all de time of being sold away from his wife\nand chillun. His bark was worse then his bite tho', for I never knowed\nhim to do a wicked thing lak dat.\n\n\"How long was they whipped? Well, they put de foots in a stock and clamp\nthem together, then they have a cross-piece go right across de breast\nhigh as de shoulder. Dat cross-piece long enough to bind de hands of a\nslave to it at each end. They always strip them naked and some time they\nlay on de lashes wid a whip, a switch or a strap. Does I believe dat was\na great sin? No sir. Our race was just lak school chillun is now. De\nmarster had to put de fear of God in them sometime, somehow, and de\nBible don't object to it.\n\n\"I see marster buy a many a slave. I never saw him sell but one and he\nsold dat one to a drover for $450.00, cash down on de table, and he did\ndat at de request of de overseer and de mistress. They was uneasy 'bout\nhim.\n\n\"They give us Christmas Day. Every woman got a handkerchief to tie up\nher hair. Every girl got a ribbon, every boy a barlow knife, and every\nman a shin plaster. De neighbors call de place, de shin plaster, Barlow,\nBandanna place. Us always have a dance in de Christmas.\n\n\"After freedom when us was told us had to have names, pappy say he love\nhis old Marster Ben Clifton de best and him took dat titlement, and I's\nbeen a Clifton ever since.\n\n\"Go way, white folks! What everthing mate for? De birds, de corn tassle\nand de silk, man and woman, white folks and colored folks mates. You ask\nme what for I seek out Christina for to marry. Dere was sumpin' 'bout\ndat gal, dat day I meets her, though her hair had 'bout a pound of\ncotton thread in it, dat just 'tracted me to her lak a fly will sail\n'round and light on a 'lasses pitcher. I kept de Ashford Ferry road hot\n'til I got her. I had to ask her old folks for her befo' she consent.\nDis took 'bout six months. Everything had to be regular. At last I got\nde preacher, Rev. Ray Shelby to go down dere and marry us. Her have been\na blessin' to me every day since.\n\n\"Us have seven chillun. They's scattered east, west, north, and south.\nDe only one left is just David, our baby, and him is a baby six foot\nhigh and fifty-one years old.\n\n\"Yes sir, us had a bold, drivin', pushin', marster but not a\nhard-hearted one. I sorry when military come and arrest him. It was dis\na way, him try to carry on wid free labor, 'bout lak him did in slavery.\nChester was in military district no. 2. De whole state was under dat\nmilitary government. Old marster went to de field and cuss a nigger\nwoman for de way she was workin', choppin' cotton. She turnt on him wid\nde hoe and gashed him 'bout de head wid it. Him pull out his pistol and\nshot her. Dr. Babcock say de wound in de woman not serious. They swore\nout a warrant for Marster Biggers, arrest him wid a squad, and take him\nto Charleston, where him had nigger jailors, and was kicked and cuffed\n'bout lak a dog. They say de only thing he had to eat was corn-meal-mush\nbrought 'round to him and other nice white folks in a tub and it was\nladeled out to them thru de iron railin' into de palms of dere hands.\nMistress stuck by him, went and stayed down dere. The filthy prison and\nhard treatments broke him down, and when he did get out and come home,\nhim passed over de river of Jordan, where I hopes and prays his soul\nfinds rest. Mistress say one time they threatened her down dere, dat if\nshe didn't get up $10,000 they would send him where she would never see\nhim again.\n\n\"Well, I must be goin'. Some day when de crops is laid by and us get de\nboll weevil whipped off de field, I'll get David to bring me and dat\ngal, Christina, you so curious 'bout, to Winnsboro to see you. Oh, how\nher gonna laugh and shake her sides when I get home and tell her all\n'bout what's down on dat paper! You say it's to be sent to Washington?\nWhy, de President and his wife will be tickled at some of them things.\nI's sure they will. Dat'll make Christina have a great excitement when I\ntell her we is to be talked 'bout way up dere. I 'spect it will keep her\nwake and she'll be hunchin' me and asking me all thru de night, what I\ngive in.\n\n\"Oh, well, I's thankful for dis hour in which I's been brought very near\nto de days of de long long ago. Maybe I'll get a pension and maybe I\nwon't. Just so de Lord and de President take notice of us, is enough for\nme.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n From Field Notes.\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n April 29, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n FOLK LORE: FOLK TALES (Negro)\n\n\n\"I wuz born in Fairfield, dat is over yonder across Broad River, you\nknos what dat is, don't you? Yes sir, it wuz on Marse Johnson D.\nColeman's plantation. And he had a plantation! Dese niggers here in\nCarlisle--and niggers is all dey is too--dey don't know what no\nplantation is. When I got big enough fer to step around, from de very\nfus, my maw took me in de big house. It still dat, cep it done bout fell\ndown now, to what it wuz then. But some of Marse's folks, dey libs down\ndar still. Den you see, dey is like dese white folks up 'round here now.\nDey ain't got no big money like dey had when I wuz a runnin' up. Time I\ngot big enough fer to run aroun' in my shirt tail, my maw, she lowed one\nnight to my paw, when he wuz settin by de fire, dat black little nigger\nover dar, he got to git hissef some pants kaise I'se gwine to put him up\nover de white fokes table. In dem times de doos and winders, dey nebber\nhad no screen wire up to dem like dey is now. Fokes didn't know nothin\nbout no such as dat den. My Marster and all de other big white fokes,\ndey raised pea fowls. Is yu ebber seed any? Well, ev'y spring us little\nniggers, we coch dem wild things at night. Dey could fly like a buzzard.\nDey roosted up in de pine trees, right up in de tip top. So de Missus,\nshe hab us young uns clam up dar and git 'em when dey first took roost.\nUs would clam down and my maw, she would pull de long feathers out'n de\ntails. Fer weeks de cocks, dey wouldn't let nobody see 'em if dey could\nhelp it. Dem birds is sho proud. When dey is got de feathers, dey jus\nstruts on de fences, and de fences wuz rail in dem days. If'n dey could\nsee dereself in a puddle o' water after a rain, dey would stay dar all\nday a struttin' and carring on like nobody's business. Yes sir, dem wuz\npurty birds. After us got de feathers, de Missus, she'ud low dat all de\nnigger gals gwine to come down in de wash house and make fly brushes.\nSometime de Missus 'ud gib some of de gals some short feathers to put in\ndere Sunday hats. When dem gals got dem hats on, I used to git so\ndisgusted wid 'em I'd leave 'em at church and walk home by my sef.\nAnyway, by dat time all de new fly brushes wuz made and de Missus, she\nhab fans make from de short feathers for de white fokes to fan de air\nwid on hot days. Lawdy, I'se strayed fur from what I had started out fer\nto tell you. But I knowed dat you young fokes didn't know nothin' bout\nall dat. In dem days de dining room wuz big and had de windows open all\nde summer long, and all de doos stayed streched too. Quick as de mess of\nvictuals began to come on de table, a little nigger boy was put up in de\nswing, I calls it, over de table to fan de flies and gnats off'en de\nMissus' victuals. Dis swing wuz just off'n de end of de long table. Some\nof de white fokes had steps a leadin' up to it. Some of 'em jus had de\nlittle boys maws to fech de young'uns up dar till dey got fru; den dey\nwuz fetched down again.\n\n\"Well, when I got my pants, my maw fetched me in and I clumb up de steps\ndat Marse Johnson had, to git up in his swing wid. At fus, dey had to\nshow me jus how to hole de brush, kaise dem peacock feathers wuz so\nlong, iffen you didn't mind your bizness, de ends of dem feathers would\nsplash in de gravy er sumpin nother, and den de Missus table be all\nspattered up. Some o' de Marsters would whorp de nigger chilluns fer dat\ncarelessness, but Marse Johnson, he always good to his niggers. Mos de\nwhite fokes good to de niggers round bout whar I comes from.\n\n\"It twad'nt long for I got used to it and I nebber did splash de\nfeathers in no rations. But iffen I got used to it, I took to agoin to\nsleep up thar. Marse Johnson, he would jus git up and wake me up. All de\nwhite fokes at de table joke me so bout bein' so lazy, I soon stop dat\nfoolishness. My maw, she roll her eyes at me when I come down atter de\nmarster had to wake me up. Dat change like ever thing else. When I got\nbigger, I got to be house boy. Dey took down de swing and got a little\ngal to stand jus 'hind de Missus' chair and fan dem flies. De Missus low\nto Marse Johnson dat de style done change when he want to know how come\nshe took de swing down. So dat is de way it is now wid de wimmen, dey\nchanges de whole house wid de style; but I tells my chilluns, ain't no\ndays like de ole days when I wuz a shaver.\n\n\"Atter de war, I come up to Shelton and got to de 'P' Hamilton place. I\nwuz grown den. I seed a young girl dar what dey called 'Evvie'. Her paw,\nhe had b'longed to de Chicks, so dats who she wuz, Evvie Chick. Dar she\nsets in dat room by de fire. Now us got 'leven chilluns. Dey is\nscattered all about. Dey is good to us in our ole age. Us riz 'em to\nobey de Lawd and mine us. Dats all dey knows, and iffen fokes would do\ndat now, dey wouldn't have no sassy chilluns like I sees here in\nCarlisle.\n\n\"Evvie, what year wuz it we got married? Yes, dat's right. It wuz de\nyear of de 'shake'. Is you heerd bout de 'shake'? Come out here Evvie\nand les tell him dat, kaise dese young fokes doan know nothin'. It wuz\ndark, and we wuz eatin' supper, when sumpin started to makin' de dishes\nfall out'n de cupboard. At fus we thought it wuz somebody a jumpin' up\nand down on de flo. Den we knowed dat it wuz sumpin else er makin' dem\ndishes fall out o' de cupboard. At fus we thought it wuz Judgment day,\nkaise ev'ry thing started fallin' worser and worser. De dishes fell so\nfast you couldn't pick'em up. Some of us went down to de spring. De\nwhite fokes, dey come along wid us and dey make us fetch things from de\nbig house, like fine china dat de Missus didn't want to git broke up.\nShe tole us dat it wuz er earthquake and it wasn't no day o' Judgment.\nAnyway, we lowed de white fokes might be wrong, so us niggers started to\na prayin', and den all de niggers on de plantation dat heerd us, well de\ncome along and jined wid us in de prayin' and singin'. Us wuz all a\nshakin' mos as bad as de earth wuz, kaise dat wuz a awful time dat we\nlibbed through fer bout twenty minutes--de white fokes lowed it lasted\nonly ten, but I ain't sho about dat. When we got back to de big house,\nde cupboard in de kitchen had done fell plum' down. In de nigger houses,\nde chimneys mos all fell in, and de chicken houses ev'rywhar wuz shuck\ndown. While we wuz a lookin' aroun, and de wimmen fokes, dey wuz a\ntakin' on mightily another shake come up. Us all took fer de spring\nagin; dis one lasted bout long as de first one. Us prayed and sung and\nshouted dis time. It sho stopped de earth a shakin' and a quiverin'\nsome, kaise dat thing went on fer a whole week; ceptin de furs two wuz\nde heaviest. All de other ones wuz lighter. Iffen it hadn't been fur us\nall a beggin' de Lawd fer to sho us his mercy, it ain't no tellin' how\nbad dem shakes would er been. Miss Becky Levister, you know her, she\nlive up yander in your uncle John's house now, she wuz wid us. She wuz\njus a little girl den. Her paw wuz Mr. Kelly. He died for ever you wuz\nborn. Not long ago I seed her. She lowed to me, 'uncle Henry, do you\nrecollect in de time o' de shake? Lacken she think I'd fergit such as\ndat. It wuz in de time o' de worsest things dis ole nigger is ebber seed\nhisself, and I is gwine on 82 now. Miss Becky, she wuz a settin' in her\ncar wid some one drivin' her, but she ain't fergot dis ole nigger. If I\nis up town and Miss Becky, she ride by, she look out and lows' 'Howdy\nuncle Henry', and I allus looks up and raises my hat. I likes mannerable\nwhite fokes, mysef, and den, I likes mannerable niggers fer as dat goes.\nSome of dese fokes, now both white--I hates to say it--and niggers, dey\ntrys to act like dey ain't got no sense er sumpin'. But you know one\nthing I knos real fokes when I sees dem and dey can't fool me.\"\n\nAunt Evvie tells the following story about her father, Rufus Chick. The\nstory is known by all of the reliable white folks of the surrounding\nneighborhood also: \"My paw, Rufus Chick, lived on the Union side of\nBroad River, the latter days of his life. Maj. James B. Steadman had\ngoats over on Henderson Island that my paw used to care for. He went\nover to the Island in a batteau. One afternoon, he and four other\ndarkies were going over there when the batteau turned over. The four\nother men caught to a willow bush and were rescued. My paw could not\nswim, and he got drowned. For three weeks they searched for his body,\nbut they never did find it. Some years after, a body of a darky was\nfound at the mouth of the canal, down near Columbia. The body was\nperfectly petrified. This was my paw's body. The canal authorities sent\nthe body to a museum in Detroit. It was January 11, 1877 when my father\ngot drowned.\n\n\"When I wuz a young fellow I used to race wid de horses. I wuz de swifes\nrunner on de plantation. A nigger, Peter Feaster, had a white horse of\nhis own, and de white fokes used to bet amongst de selves as much as\n$20.00 dat I could outrun dat horse. De way us did, wuz to run a hundred\nyards one way, turn around and den run back de hundred yards. Somebody\nwould hold de horse, and another man would pop de whip fer us to start.\nQuick as de whip popped, I wuz off. I would git sometimes ten feet ahead\nof de horse 'fore dey could git him started. Den when I had got de\nhundred yards, I could turn around quicker dan de horse would, and I\nwould git a little mo' ahead. Corse wid dat, you had to be a swift man\non yer feets to stay head of a fas horse. Peter used to git so mad when\nI would beat his ole horse, and den all de niggers would laf at him\nkaise de white fokes give me some of de bettin money. Sometimes dey\nwould bet only $10.00, sometimes, $15 or $20. Den I would race wid de\nwhite fokes horses too. Dey nebber got mad when I come out ahead. After\nI got through, my legs used to jus shake like a leaf. So now, I is gib\nplum out in dem and I tributes it to dat. Evvie, she lowed when I used\nto do dat after we wuz married, dat I wuz gwine to give out in my legs,\nand sho nuf I is.\"\n\n\"Uncle\" Henry says that his legs have given out in the bone.\n\n Source: Henry Coleman and his wife, Evvie, of Carlisle, S. C.\n Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n District #4\n Spartanburg, S. C.\n May 31, 1937\n\n FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born about 1857 and my wife about 1859. I lived on Squire\nKeller's farm, near the Parr place, and after the squire died I belonged\nto Mrs. Elizabeth (Wright) Keller. My mother died when I was a boy and\nmy father was bought and carried to Alabama. My father was Gilliam\nColeman and my mother, Emoline Wright. My master and mistress was good\nto me. The old Squire was as fine a man as ever lived on earth. He took\nme in his home and took care of me. After the war the mistress stayed on\nthe place and worked the slaves right on, giving them wages or shares.\n\n\"The slaves were not whipped much; I 'member one man was whipped pretty\nbad on Maj. Kinard's place. He had a colored man to do whipping for\nhim--his name was Eph. There was no whiskey on the place, never made\nany. Us did cooking in the kitchen wid wide fireplaces.\n\n\"When the Yankees came through at the end of the war, they took all the\nstock we had. The mistress had a fine horse, its tail touching the\nground, and we all cried when it was taken; but we got it back, as some\nmen went after it.\n\n\"I married in 1874 to Ellen T. Williams. She belonged to Bill Reagan.\nAfter I married I worked in the railroad shops at \"Helena\", and\nsometimes I fired the engine on the road, for about eight years. Then I\nwent into the ministry. I was called by the Spirit of the Lord,\ngradually, and I preached 51 years. I have been superannuated two years.\n\n\"I have one child, a son, who is in the pullman service at Washington,\nD. C.\n\n\"I owned my little house and several acres and am still living on it.\"\n\n Source: Rev. Tuff Coleman and wife (80 and 78), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. Leland Summer, Newberry, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Code No.\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, May 27, 1937\n No. Words ----\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n MOM LOUISA COLLIER\n Ex-Slave, 78 years.\n\n\n\"I born en raise up dere in Colonel Durant yard en I in my 78th year\nnow. Dat seem lak I ole, don' it? Coase Colonel Durant hab plenty udder\ncolored peoples 'sides us, but dey ne'er lib dere in de yard lak we. Dey\nlib up in de quarters on de plantation. My pappy name Ben Thompson en he\nhadder stay dere close to de big house cause he wus de Colonel driver.\nDe Colonel hab uh big ole carriage wha' to ride in den. It hab uh little\nseat in de front fa my pappy to set in en den it hab two seat 'hind de\ndriver whey de Colonel en he family is ride. I kin see dat carriage jes\nuz good right now dat my white folks hab to carry em whey dey is wanna\ngo.\"\n\n\"Den my mammy come from de udder side uv Pee Dee en she name, Lidia\nBass. She was de servant 'round de yard dere en dat count fa we to ne'er\nstay in de quarters wid de udder colored peoples 'fore freedom declare.\nI ne'er hadder do no work long uz I lib dere in de yard cause I ain'\nbeen but five year ole when freedom declare. My grandmammy lib right\ndere close us en Colonel Durant hab she jes to look a'ter aw de\nplantation chillun when dey parents wuz workin'. Aw uv de plantation\npeoples 'ud take dey chillun dere fa my grandmammy to nu'se.\"\n\n\"I 'member one day dere come uh crowd uv peoples dere dat dey tell us\nchillun wuz de Yankees. Dey come right dere t'rough de Colonel yard en\nwhen I see em, I wuz 'fraid uv em. I run en hide under my grandmammy\nbed. Don' know wha' dey say cause I ain' ge' close 'nough to hear nuthin\nwha' dey talk 'bout. De white folks hadder herry (hurry) en put t'ings\nin pots en bury em or hide em somewhey when dey hear dat de Yankees wus\ncomin' cause dey scare dem Yankees might take dey t'ings lak dey is\ncarry 'way udder folks t'ings. I hear em say dey ne'er take nuthin from\nde Colonel but some uv he wood.\"\n\n\"My white folks was well-off peoples en dey ain' ne'er use no harsh\ntreatment on dey plantation peoples. De Colonel own aw dis land 'bout\nhere den en he see dat he overseer on de plantation provide plenty uv\neve't'ing us need aw de time. I hear tell 'bout some uv de white folks\n'ud beat dey colored peoples mos' to death, but I ain' ne'er see none uv\ndat no whey. I is 'member when dey'ud sell some uv de colored peoples\nway offen to annuder plantation somewhey. Jes been bid em offen jes lak\ndey wuz cattle. Some uv de time dey'ud sell uh man wife 'way en den he\nhadder ge' annuder wife.\"\n\n\"A'ter freedom declare, we ne'er lib dere at de big house no more. Move\nin de colored settlement en den we ain' eat at de big house no more\nneither. Dey le' us hab uh garden uv we own den en raise us own chicken\nen aw dat. I 'member de Colonel gi'e us so mucha t'ing eve'y week en it\nhadder las' us from one Saturday to de next. My mammy 'ud go to de\nColonel barn eve'y week en ge' she portion uv meal en meat. Dat de way\ndey pay de hand fa dey work den. Ne'er gi'e em no money den.\"\n\n\"Peoples wha' lib on Colonel Durant plantation ain' know nuthin but to\nlib on de fat uv de land. Dey hab plenty cows den en dey gi'e us plenty\nuv milk eve'y day. I 'member we chillun use'er take we tin cup en go up\nto de big house en ge' us milk to drink en den some uv de cows 'ud be so\ngentle lak dat we chillun is follow em right down side de path. Den when\ndere ne'er wuz nobody lak de Colonel overseer 'bout to see us, we is\nketch de cow en ge' some more milk. I al'ays'ud lub to drink me milk dat\nway. We is eat plenty green peas en 'tatoes en fish in dem days too en\ndey is use 'tatoe pie right smart den.\"\n\n\"Aw de colored peoples on Colonel Durant plantation hab good bed wha' to\nsleep on en good clothes to put on dey back. Coase we ne'er hab no\nbought fu'niture in dem days, but we hab bedstead wha' dey make right\ndere en benches en some uv de time dey is make wha' dey call 'way back\nchair. Den we is make us own bed outer hay cause de white folks ne'er\nspare de colored peoples no cotton den. Hadder cut de hay in de fall uv\nde year en dry it jes lak dey dries it fa to feed de cattle on. Den dey\nhadder take sack en sew em up togedder en put de hay in dese. Dey sleep\nright smart in dem days. Don' mucha people sleep on straw bed dese day\nen time en dey don' dress lak dey use'er neither. I 'member de long\ndress dey is wear den. Hadder hold em up when dey walk so dey won' tetch\nde floor 'bout em. Den some uv dem is wear wha' dey call leggens. Dey'ud\ngather em 'round de knee en le' em show 'bout de ankle. Dey wuz pretty,\ndat dey wuz. De white folks'ud make de plantation clothes outer calico\nen jeanes cloth en dat time. De jeanes cloth be wha' dey make de boy\nclothes outer. Dey is weave aw dey cloth right dere on de plantation en\nden dey use'er dye de thread en weave aw sorta check outer de different\ncolor thread. Wha' dey make de dye outer? Dey ge' bark outer de woods en\nboil de color outer it en den dey boil de thread in dat. Dat how dey is\nmake dey dye. Ne'er see de peoples hab no hat lak dey hab now neither.\nAw de colored peoples wear wha' dey call shuck hat den cause dey been\nmake outer shuck. Dat aw de kinder hat we is hab.\"\n\n\"Peoples use'er ge' aw kinder useful t'ing outer de woods in dem days\n'way back dere. Ne'er hadder buy no me'icine tall den. Ain' ne'er been\nno better cough cure no whey den de one my ole mammy use'er make fa we\nchillun. She larnt 'bout how it made when she stay 'round de Missus en\ndat how come I know wha' in it. Jes hadder go in de woods en ge' some\ncherry, call dat wild cherry, en cut some uv de wild cherry bark fust\n(first) t'ing. A'ter dat yuh hadder find some uv dese long-leaf pine en\nge' de bud outer dat. Den yuh hadder go to whey dere some sweet gum grow\nen ge' de top outer dem en ge' some mullen to put wid it. Ain' ne'er no\ncough stand aw dat mix up togedder in no day en time. Dey gi'e dat to de\npeoples fa dat t'ing wha' dey use'er call de grip cough. Den dey use'er\nmake uh t'ing dat dey call \"bone set\" tea. I forge' how dey make it but\ndey gi'e it to de peoples when dey hab de fevers. It been so bitter dat\nit'ud lift yuh up 'fore yuh is ge' it aw down de t'roat. Ain' see no\nfever me'icine lak dat nowadays.\"\n\n\"Yas'um, I 'members when dey hab plenty uv dem cornshucking to one\nannuder barn. De peoples'ud come from aw de plantation 'bout dere. Dem\ncorn-shuckings wuz big times, dat dey wuz. Gi'e eve'body aw de\n\"hopping-john\" dey kin eat. Jes cook it aw in uh big pot dere in de yard\nto de big house. Ain' nuthin ne'er eat no better den dat \"hopping-john\"\nis eat.\"\n\n\"Den de peoples use'er come from aw de plantation 'bout en hab big\ndancing dere. Dat when I lub to be 'bout. Dey hab uh big fire build up\nouter in de yard en dat wha' dey dance 'round 'bout. Call dat uh torch\nfire. Dey'ud hab fiddle en dey dance wha' dey call de reel dance den. I\n'member I use'er lub to watch dey feet when dat fiddle 'ud ge' to\nplaying. I jes crawl right down on me knees dere whey I'ud see dey feet\njes uh going.\"\n\n\"I ne'er hab mucha schooling 'fore freedom declare cause I been raise up\non de plantation. Dis child (her daughter) pappy wuz de house boy to de\nbig house en he ge' more schooling den I is. De Missus larnt he how to\nread en write she self. A'ter freedom declare, I go to school to uh\nwhite man up dere to de ole Academy en den I is go to annuder school\ndown dere to uh blacksmith shop. I go to uh white man dere too. Ne'er\nhab no colored teacher den cause dey ain' hab 'nough schooling den. Dese\nchillun don' know nuthin 'bout dem times. I tell dese chillun I don'\nknow wha' dey wanna run 'bout so mucha cause dere plenty t'ing to see\ndat pass right dere by us house eve'y day. I t'ink dis uh better day en\ntime to lib en cause dis uh brighter day now dat we hab.\"\n\n Source: Mom Louisa Collier, age 78, colored, Marion, S. C\n Personal interview, May 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n JOHN COLLINS\n EX-SLAVE, 85 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nJohn Collins lives in a two-room frame cottage by the side of US 21,\njust one mile north of the town of Winnsboro, S. C. on the right side of\nthe highway and a few hundred yards from the intersection of US 21 and\nUS 22. The house is owned by Mr. John Ameen. His son, John, who lives\nwith him, is a farm hand in the employ of Mr. John Ameen, and is his\nfather's only support.\n\n\"They tells me dat I was born in Chester County, just above de line dat\nseparates Chester and Fairfield Counties. You know where de 'dark\ncorner' is, don't you? Well, part is in Fairfield County and part is in\nChester County. In dat corner I first see de light of day; 'twas on de\n29th of February, 1852. Though I is eighty-five years old, I's had only\ntwenty-one birthdays. I ketches a heap of folks wid dat riddle. They ask\nme: 'How old is you Uncle John?' I say: 'I is had twenty-one birthdays\nand won't have another till 1940. Now figure it out yourself, sir, if\nyou is so curious to know my age!' One time a smart aleck, jack-leg,\nMethodist preacher, of my race, come to my house and figured all day on\ndat riddle and never did git de correct answer. He scribbled on all de\npaper in de house and on de back of de calendar leaves. I sure laughed\nat dat preacher. I fears he lacked some of dat good old time 'ligion, de\nway he sweated and scribbled and fussed.\n\n\"My daddy was name Steve Chandler. My mammy was called Nancy. I don't\nknow whether they was married or not. My daddy was sent to Virginia,\nwhile de war was gwine on, to build forts and breastworks around\nPetersburg, so they say, and him never come back. I 'members him well.\nHe was a tall black man, over six feet high, wid broad shoulders. My\nson, John, look just lak him. Daddy used to play wid mammy just lak she\nwas a child. He'd ketch her under de armpits and jump her up mighty nigh\nto de rafters in de little house us lived in.\n\n\"My mammy and me was slaves of old Marse Nick Collins. His wife, my\nmistress, was name Miss Nannie. Miss Nannie was just an angel; all de\nslaves loved her. But marster was hard to please, and he used de lash\noften. De slaves whisper his name in fear and terror to de chillun, when\nthey want to hush them up. They just say to a crying child: 'Shet up or\nold Nick will ketch you!' Dat child sniffle but shet up pretty quick.\n\n\"Marster didn't have many slaves. Best I 'member, dere was about twenty\nmen, women, and chillun to work in de field and five house slaves. Dere\nwas no good feelin's 'twixt field hands and house servants. De house\nservants put on more airs than de white folks. They got better things to\neat, too, than de field hands and wore better and cleaner clothes.\n\n\"My marster had one son, Wyatt, and two daughters, Nannie and Elizabeth.\nThey was all right, so far as I 'member, but being a field hand's child,\noff from de big house, I never got to play wid them any.\n\n\"My white folks never cared much about de slaves having 'ligion. They\nwent to de Universalist Church down at Feasterville. They said everybody\nwas going to be saved, dat dere was no hell. So they thought it was just\na waste of time telling niggers about de hereafter.\n\n\"In them days, way up dere in de 'dark corner', de white folks didn't\nhad no schools and couldn't read or write. How could they teach deir\nslaves if they had wanted to?\n\n\"De Yankees never come into de 'dark corner'. It was in 1867, dat us\nfound out us was free; then we all left. I come down to Feasterville and\nstayed wid Mr. Jonathan Coleman. From dere, I went to Chester. While I\nwas living dere, I married Maggie Nesbit. Us had five chillun; they all\ndead, 'cept John. My wife died two months ago.\n\n\"I is tired now, and I is sad. I's thinking about Maggie and de days dat\nare gone. Them memories flood over me, and I just want to lay down.\nMaybe I'll see you sometime again. I feel sure I'll see Maggie befo'\nmany months and us'll see de sunrise, down here, from de far hebben\nabove. Good day. Glad you come to see me, sir!\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Folklore\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n Nov. 29, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"Time is but time, and how is I to know when I was born when everybody\nknows dat dey never had no calendars when I come here. Few it was dat\never seed even a Lady's Birthday Almanac. I is 75 years old. I was dat\nlast January on de 13th day [~HW: 186~]. I was born in old Union County\nabout 4 miles south of Gaffney.\n\n\"Marse Mike Montgomery had a place dat reached from town way yonder to\nBroad River whar de Ninety-nine Islands lays. Now, de way de road lays,\ndey counts it twelve miles from Gaffney. When I was a boy it was lots\nfurther dan dat.\n\n\"Never know'd why, but de Red Shirts whipped my pa, Tom Corry. Dey jes'\ncome and got him out'n his house. He come back in de house. Chilluns was\nnot give no privileges in dem days, so I never axed no questions, kaise\nI was fear'd. Chilluns jes' trots into your business dese days.\n\n\"My pa say he was a slave on dem Ninety-nine Islands. All I know is what\nhe told me. Mr. Mike Montgomery built lots of boats. Dey carried from 50\nto 60 bales of cotton down at one time. De cotton was carried in de\nfall. De Smith place jined de Montgomery place and dat run into de Nancy\nCorry place. I have forded de river dar lots of times. Broad River is\nshallow, deepest place in it back den was at de mouth of King Creek,\njes' below Cherokee Falls. It ain't so broad dar.\n\n\"Pa was de boatman for Mr. Mike. De boat was big and long, and dey\nalways started off early in de morning wid a load of cotton. Old man\nDick Corry had to stand in de boat jes' behind pa. Dey had two steermen.\nSo many rocks in de shallow water dat it kept de steermen busy dodging\nrooks. Dey pushed de boat off de rocks wid long poles. Dey had to work\naway from de rocks. Sometimes dey had to get out in de water and roll\nsome rocks from dere path if de water wasn't cold.\n\n\"Wharever night caught dem, dar dey stopped and pitched a camp. Dey\nfished and killed wild ducks or birds dat was plentiful den, and cooked\ndem along wid bread and other things fetched from home. On de way from\nColumbia dey had lots of store-bought things to eat. Store-bought things\nwas a treat den. Now ducks and things is a treat. Times sho changes\nfast.\n\n\"Spring was took up wid farming. Every man, white and black, had a\nfamily back in dem days. Dat dey did, rich or poor, white or black, all\nraised families. Men farmed and hauled manure and cleaned up de\nplantation lots and fields and grubbed in de spring. Women cooked and\nwashed and ironed and spun and kept house and made everybody in de house\nclothes, and made all de bed clothes. Dey stayed home all of de time.\nMen got through work and set down at home wid deir wives and never run\naround. Now all goes. Dat's all dey does dese days is go.\n\n\"We had plenty of bread and milk and we raised hogs and killed all kinds\nof wild things like turkey, ducks and birds, and caught fish. Men had\nguns dat dey used every day, and dey hit things, too. Folks kept in\npractice, wid guns and had shooting matches.\n\n\"After dey stopped boating, wagons come in. Den things begin to change.\nDey still is changing. Wagons went to Spartanburg to take cotten. Folks\nnever went to Columbia no more. Spartanburg begin to grow and it sho\nstill is at it.\"\n\n Source: Bouregard Corry (N, 75), Rt. 2, Gaffney, S. C.\n Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. (11/22/37).\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n CALEB CRAIG\n EX SLAVE 86 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nCaleb Craig lives in a four-room house, with a hall, eight feet wide,\nthrough the center and a fireplace in each room. He lives with his\ngrandson, who looks after him.\n\n\"Who I is? I goes by de name of C. C. All de colored people speaks of me\nin dat way. C. C. dis and C. C. dat. I don't 'ject but my real name is\nCaleb Craig. Named after one of de three spies dat de Bible tell 'bout.\nHim give de favorite report and, 'cause him did, God feed him and clothe\nhim all de balance of him life and take him into de land of Canaan,\nwhere him and Joshua have a long happy life. I seen a picture in a book,\none time, of Joshua and Caleb, one end of a pole on Joshua's shoulder\nand one end on Caleb's shoulder, wid big bunches of grapes a hangin'\nfrom dat pole. Canaan must to been a powerful fertile land to make\ngrapes lak dat.\n\n\"Would you believe dat I can't write? Some of them adultery (adult)\nteachers come to my house but it seem a pack of foolishness; too much\ntrouble. I just rather put my money in de bank, go dere when I want it,\nset dat C. C. to de check, and git what I want.\n\n\"When I born? Christmas Eve, 1851. Where 'bouts? Blackstock, S. C. Don't\nnone of us know de day or de place us was born. Us have to take dat on\nfaith. You know where de old Bell house, 'bove Blackstock, is? Dere's\nwhere I come to light. De old stagecoach, 'tween Charlotte and Columbia,\nchanged hosses and stop dere but de railroad busted all dat up.\n\n\"My mammy name Martha. Marse John soon give us chillun to his daughter,\nMiss Marion. In dat way us separated from our mammy. Her was a mighty\npretty colored woman and I has visions and dreams of her, in my sleep,\nsometime yet. My sisters would call me Cale but her never did. Her say\nCaleb every time and all de time. Marse John give her to another\ndaughter of his, Miss Nancy, de widow Thompson then, but afterwards her\nmarry a hoss drover from Kentucky, Marse Jim Jones. I can tell you funny\nthings 'bout him if I has time befo' I go.\n\n\"Us chillun was carried down to de June place where Miss Marion and her\nhusband, Marse Ed P. Mobley live. It was a fine house, built by old Dr.\nJune. Marse Ed bought de plantation, for de sake of de fine house, where\nhe want to take Miss Marion as a bride.\n\n\"Dere was a whole passle of niggers in de quarter, three hundred or\nmaybe more. I didn't count them, 'cause I couldn't count up to a hundred\nbut I can now. Ten, ten, double ten, forty-five, and fifteen. Don't dat\nmake a hundred? Sho' it do.\n\n\"Clothes? Too many dere, for to clothe them much. I b'long to de\nshirt-tail brigade 'til I got to be a man. Why I use to plow in my\nshirt-tail! Well, it wasn't so bad in de summer time and us had big\nfires in de winter time, inside and outside de house, whenever us was\nworking'. 'Til I was twelve years old I done nothin' but play.\n\n\"Money? Hell no! Excuse me, but de question so surprise me, I's caught\noff my guard. Food? Us got farm produce, sich as corn-meal, bacon,\n'lasses, bread, milk, collards, turnips, 'tators, peanuts, and punkins.\n\n\"De overseer was Mr. Brown. My marster was much talked 'bout for workin'\nus on Sunday. He was a lordly old fellow, as I 'member, but dere was\nnever anything lak plowin' on Sunday, though I do 'member de hands\nworkin' 'bout de hay and de fodder.\n\n\"Marse Ed, a great fox hunter, kep' a pack of hounds. Sometime they run\ndeer. Old Uncle Phil was in charge of de pack. Him had a special dog for\nto tree 'possums in de nighttime and squirrels in de daytime. Believe\nme, I lak 'possum de best. You lak 'possum? Well, I'll git my grandson\nto hunt you one dis comin' October.\n\n\"Marse Ed didn't 'low patarollers (patrollers) on de June place. He tell\nthem to stay off and they knowed to stay off.\n\n\"Slave drovers often come to de June place, just lak mule drovers and\nhog drovers. They buy, sell, and swap niggers, just lak they buy, sell,\nand swap hosses, mules, and hogs.\n\n\"Us had preachin' in de quarters on Sunday. Uncle Dick, a old man, was\nde preacher. De funerals was simple and held at night. De grave was dug\ndat day.\n\n\"A man dat had a wife off de place, see little peace or happiness. He\ncould see de wife once a week, on a pass, and jealousy kep' him\n'stracted de balance of de week, if he love her very much.\n\n\"I marry Martha Pickett. Why I marry her? Well, I see so many\nknock-knee, box-ankle, spindly-shank, flat nose chillun, when I was\ngrowin' up, dat when I come to choose de filly to fold my colts, I picks\none dat them mistakes wasn't so lakly to appear in. Us have five\nchillun. Lucy marry a Sims and live in Winnsboro, S. C. Maggie marry a\nWallace and live in Charlotte, N. C. Mary marry a Brice and live in\nChester, S. C. Jane not married; she live wid her sister, Mag, in\nCharlotte. John lives 'bove White Oak and farms on a large place I own,\nnot a scratch of pen against it by de government or a bank.\n\n\"I live on 27 acres, just out de town of Winnsboro. I expects no\npension. My grandchillun come and go, back'ards and fo'ards, and tell me\n'bout cities, and high falutin' things goin' on here and dere. I looks\nthem over sometime for to see if I didn't do sumpin' for deir figures,\nin s'lectin' and marryin' Martha, dat's more important to them than de\nland I'll leave them when I die. When Martha die, I marry a widow name\nEliza but us never generate any chillun. Her dead. Not 'nough spark in\nme to undertake de third trip, though I still is a subject of 'tentions.\n\n\"What 'bout Marse Ed and Marse Jim Jones? Well, you see, Marse Jim was\nclose wid his money. Marse Ed was a spender. I 'tend Marse Ed to a\nchicken main once. Marse Jim rode up just as Marse Ed was puttin' up\n$300.00 on a pile brass wing rooster, 'ginst a black breasted red war\nhoss rooster, dat de McCarleys was backin'. Marse Ed lost de bet. But\nhim never told Marse Jim, dat befo' he rode up, him had won $500.00 from\nthem same men. After de main was over, Marse Jim, bein' brudder-in-law\nto Marse Ed, rode home to dinner wid him. After dinner they was smokin'\ndeir cigars befo' de parlor fire dat I was 'viving up. Marse Jim lecture\nMarse Ed for throwin' 'way money. Marse Ed stretch out his long legs and\nsay: 'Mr. Jones does you 'member dat day us 'tended de circus in Chester\nand as us got to de top of de hill a blind begger held out his cup to us\nand you put in a quarter?' Mr. Jones say he does 'member dat. Marse Ed\nwent on: 'Well, Mr. Jones, I had a dream last night. I dream us comin'\nthrough de Cumberland Mountains wid a drove of mules from Kentucky. You\nwas ridin' a piebald hoss, de same one you rode into South Carolina de\nfust time you come here. You had on a faded, frazzled grey shawl, 'bout\nlak de one you had on today. Us was in front, de outriders behind, when\nus got to de gap in de mountains. De drove stampede just as us git in de\ngap. Us was both kilt. You got to heaven befo' I did. When I did git\ndere, you was befo' de High Court. They examine you and turn over de\nleaves of a big book and find very little dere to your credit. At last\nthey say, I think it was de 'Postle Peter dat ask de question. Him say:\n'Everything is recorded in dis book. Us can find nothin'. Do you happen\nto 'member anything you did to your credit down dere on earth?' Then you\nstand up wid dat old shawl 'round your shoulders and say: 'Aha! I do\n'member one thing. One day I was in Chester and put a quarter of a\ndollar in a blind man's tin cup.' De 'postle then tell de recording\nangel to see if him could find dat deed. Him turn over de leaves 'til\nhim found it on de page. Then de twelve 'postles retire and 'liberate on\nyour case. They come back and de judge pass sentence which was: 'The\nsentence of de High Court is, that in view of your great love of money,\nJames Jones, it is de sentence of de court dat you be given back de\nquarter you give de blind beggar in Chester and dat you, James Jones, be\nsent immediate on your way to hell.' Then they both laugh over dat and\nMarse Jim got real happy when he find out Marse Ed quit de main wid\n$200.00 to de good.\"\n\n Address:\n Caleb Craig,\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n That part of the suburb of Winnsboro called \"Mexico\". Just east of the\n Southern Railway Company and north of Winnsboro Cotton Mills.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n DINAH CUNNINGHAM\n EX-SLAVE 84 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nDinah Cunningham lives about seven miles west of Ridgeway, S. C., on the\nHood place about a hundred yards off the old Devil's Race Track road.\nShe lives with her daughter and son-in-law and their three children.\nThey live in a two-room frame house with a shed room annex. In the\nannex, Dinah and the smaller children sleep. They are kind to Dinah, who\nis feeble and can do no farm labor. Dinah is as helpless about the home\nas a child.\n\n\"I's come up here 'bout seventeen miles for to let you see me. 'Spect\nyou don't see much in dis old worn out critter. Now does you?\n\n\"Well, here I is, and I wants you white folks to help me, 'cause I's\nserved you from generation to generation. Wid de help of de Lord and\ntrustin' in Jesus de Lamb, I knows I's goin' to git help. When is they\ngwine to start payin' off? I's heard them say how you got to be on de\nroll and signed up befo' de fourth day of July. So here I is!\n\n\"I was born de fust day of March, 1853, out from Ridgeway, sunrise side.\nMy marster was David Robertson and my mistress name Sally. Her was\nmighty pretty. Her was a Rembert befo' she marry Marse Dave. They had\none child dat I was de nurse for and her name was Luray. Her marry Marse\nCharlie Ray.\n\n\"De onliest whippin' I got was 'bout dat child. I had de baby on de\nfloor on a pallet and rolled over on it. Her make a squeal like she was\nmuch hurt and mistress come in a hurry. After de baby git quiet and go\nto sleep, she said: 'Dinah, I hates to whip you but de Good Book say,\nspare de rod and spoil de child.' Wid dat, she goes out and git a little\nswitch off de crepe myrtle bush and come back and took my left hand in\nher left hand, dat had all de rings on de fingers, and us had it 'round\ndat room. I make a big holler as she 'plied dat switch on dese very legs\ndat you sees here today. They is big and fat now and can scarcely wobble\nme 'long but then, they was lean and hard and could carry me 'long like\na deer in de woods.\n\n\"My white folks was no poor white trash, I tells you! Good marse and\ngood mistress had heap of slaves and overseers. One overseer name Mr.\nWelch. De buckra folks dat come visitin', use to laugh at de way he put\ngrease on his hair, and de way he scraped one foot back'ards on de\nground or de floor when they shake hands wid him. He never say much, but\njust set in his chair, pull de sides of his mustache and say 'Yas sah'\nand 'No sah', to them dat speak to him. He speak a whole lot though,\nwhen he git down in de quarters where de slaves live. He wasn't like de\nsame man then. He woke everybody at daylight, and sometime he help de\npatrollers to search de houses for to ketch any slaves widout a pass.\n\n\"Us had all us need to eat, sich as was good for us. Marse like to see\nhis slaves fat and shiny, just like he want to see de carriage hosses\nslick and spanky, when he ride out to preachin' at Ainswell and sometime\nde Episcopal church at Ridgeway. My young mistress jine de Baptist\nchurch after she marry, and I 'member her havin' a time wid sewin'\nbuckshots in de hem of de dress her was baptized in. They done dat, you\nknows, to keep de skirt from floatin' on top of de water. You never have\nthought 'bout dat? Well, just ask any Baptist preacher and he'll tell\nyou dat it has been done.\n\n\"When de Yankees come, they went through de big house, tore up\neverything, ripped open de feather beds and cotton mattresses, searchin'\nfor money and jewels. Then they had us slaves ketch de chickens, flung\nopen de smoke-house, take de meat, meal, flour, and put them in a\nfour-hoss wagon and went on down to Longtown. Them was scandlous days,\nboss! I hope never to see de likes of them times wid dese old eyes\nagain.\n\n\"I 'member 'bout de Ku Klux just one time, though I heard 'bout them a\nheap. They come on de Robertson place all dressed up wid sheets and\nfalse faces, ridin' on hossback, huntin' for a republican and a radical\nnigger, (I forgits his name, been so long) but they didn't find him.\nThey sho' was a sight and liked to scared us all to death.\n\n\"Was I ever married? Sure I was, I marry Mack Cunningham. Us was jined\nin de holy wedlock by Marse Alex Matherson, a white trial justice. Ask\nhim and he'll tell you when it was. I's got some chillun by dat husband.\nThere is William at Charlotte, and Rosy at Ridgeway. Rosy, her marry a\nman name Peay. Then there is Millie Gover at Rembert and Lila Brown at\nSmallwood, de station where Marse Charlie Ray and my Mistress Luray was\nkilled by a railroad train runnin' into de automobile they was in. Then\nthere is my daughter, Delia Belton, at Ridgeway, and John L., a son\nlivin' and farmin' at Cedar Creek.\n\n\"I b'longs to de Mt. Olivet Church dat you knows 'bout. White folks\ncomes there sometime for to hear de singin'. They say us can carry de\nsong better than white folks. Well, maybe us does love de Lord just a\nlittle bit better, and what's in our mouth is in our hearts.\n\n\"What you gwine to charge for all dat writin' you got down there? If you\nwrites much more maybe I ain't got enough money to pay for it. I got a\ndollar here but if it's more than dat you'll have to wait on me for de\nbalance. You say it don't cost nothin'? Well, glory hallelujah for dat!\nI'll just go 'round to de colored restaurant and enjoy myself wid beef\nstew, rice, new potatoes, macaroni and a cup of coffee. I wonder what\nthey'll have for dessert. 'Spect it'll be some kind of puddin'. But I'd\nbe more pleased if you would take half of this dollar and go get you a\ngood dinner, too. I would like to please you dat much!\n\n\"May de good Lord be a watch 'tween me and you 'til us meets again.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project #-1655\n Phoebe Faucette\n Hampton County\n\n FOLKLORE\n\n LUCY DANIELS\n\n\n\"Aunt Lucy is a tall well-built old woman who looks younger than her\nyears. She delights in talking, and was glad to tell what she knew about\nthe olden times.\n\n\"I don't know how old I been when de war end. If I been in de world I\nwasn't old enough to pick up nuthin'. Miss Lulie Bowers say I'll be 78\nfirst of March coming. Miss Lulie was my 'young Missus'. I love Miss\nLulie, and I thinks she thinks a heap of me--my young Missus, and her\nfather, my young Massa. He good to his darkies. He was a rich man--even\nafter de war. Miss Lulie say she was de only young lady that could go\noff to college after de war. Miss Lulie help me powerful. She give me\nshoes, and beddin. She and me grow up together. She is in de bed sick\nnow. I jes' come from dere. Had de doctor to see her.\n\n\"I hear 'em tell 'bout how de soldiers burn 'em out. My mother would\ntell me. My father had gone off to fight. Say dey'd tie de hams an' de\nthings on de saddle--and burn de expensive houses. White folks jes' had\nto hide everything. She talk 'bout all de men was gone and de women had\nto pile up, four or five in one house to protect deyselves. My father\nsay when dey been 'rough-few-gieing' (refugeeing) de Beaufort Bridge\nbeen burn down. He say he been so hungry one time he stop to a old\nlady's house and ask her for something to eat. She say she didn't have\nnothing but some dry bread. He take de bread, but he say it been so\nhard, he threw some of it away. But he say he so hungry he wish he\nhadn't throw it away. It was a hard time. Used to have to weave cloth\nand dye thread. Had a loom to weave on and a spinning wheel. My\ngrandmother say de Yankees come to her house and take everything, but\nshe say one little pullet run out in de weeds and hide and de soldiers\ncouldn't find her. She say dat pullet lay and hatch and dat how dey got\nstart off again. Dey scramble and dey raise us some how or another.\n\n\"I had nine chillun for my first husband and one for my second husband.\nI raise 'em all 'till dey grown; but all dead now 'cept three. My\nhusband died last year, I had to work for my chillun. But my second\nhusband, he help me wid 'em.\n\n\"Dat's all I kin tell you, Miss. I don't remember so much. Chillun in\nthose days weren't so bright as dey is now, you know.\"\n\n Source: Lucy Daniels, 78 ex-slave, Luray, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Folklore\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n Nov. 30, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n (John Davenport)\n\n\n\"My family belonged in slavery time to old Marse Pierce Lake who was de\nClerk of Court in town, or de Probate Judge. He lived at de old Campbell\nHavird House and I lived dar wid him. My mother belonged to dis Lake\nfamily and she was named Martha Lake. I don't know who my father was,\nbut I was told he was a white man.\n\n\"We slaves had good enough quarters to live in, and dey give us plenty\nto eat. De house I live in now is fair, but it has a bad roof. It is my\nwife's chillun's place. My wife had it and left it to dem. She was Ellen\nGallman, a widow when I married her. Only my blind daughter now live wid\nme. I was married five times and had eighteen chilluns by three wives.\nEach of my wives died befo' I married agin. I didn't separate from any.\nMy mother's father lived wid Marse Lake. He and his wife come from\nVirginia.\n\n\"I was a boy in slavery and worked and piddled round de house. Sometimes\nI had to work de corn or in de garden. We had plenty to eat. As de old\nsaying is, 'We lived at home and boarded at de same place.' We raised\neverything we had to eat, vegetables, hogs, cows and de like. Marster\nhad a big garden, but he didn't let his slaves have any garden of deir\nown. We made all our clothes, homespun. My mother used to spin at night\nand work out all day; lots of niggers had to do dat.\n\n\"Marse Lake was good to his niggers, but he had to whip dem sometimes,\nwhen dey was mean. He had six or eight slaves, some on de upper place\nand some on de home place. We got up at daylight and worked all day,\nexcept for dinner lunch, till it was sundown.\n\n\"We never worked at night in de fields. Sometimes Marse would have\ncorn-shuckings and de neighbors would come in and help catch up wid\nshucking de corn; den dey would have something to eat. De young folks\nwould come, too, and help, and dey would dance and frolic.\n\n\"I didn't learn to read and write. Marse never said anything about it.\nMy sister learned when some of de white women school teachers boarded at\nMarse Lake's house. De teachers learn't my sister when she was de maid\nof de house, and she could read and write good. Didn't have a school or\nchurch on de plantation. Atter de war, some of de niggers started a\nbrush arbor. Befo' de war, some of us niggers had to come to town wid de\nwhite folks and go to deir church and set in de gallery.\n\n\"De patrollers was sometimes mean. If dey catch'd a nigger away from\nhome widout a pass dey sho whipped him, but dey never got any of us. Dey\ncome to our house once, but didn't git anybody.\n\n\"We had to work all day Saturdays, but not Sundays. Sometimes de fellows\nwould slip off and hunt or fish a little on Sunday. Women would do\nwashing on Saturday nights, or other nights. We had three days holiday\nwhen Christmas come, and we had plenty good things to eat, but we had to\ncook it ourselves. De marster would give de chillun little pieces of\ncandy.\n\n\"Chillun had games like marbles and anti-over. Dey played anti-over by a\ncrowd gitting on each side of de house and throwing a ball from one side\nto de other. Whoever got de ball would run around on de other side and\nhit somebody wid it; den he was out of de game. We never believed much\nin ghosts or spooks. I never saw any.\n\n\"Some of de folks had remedies for curing, like making hot tea from a\nweed called 'bone-set'. Dat weed grows wild in de woods. It was good\nfor chills and fever. De tea is awful bitter. Little bags of asafetida\nwas used to hang around de little chillun's necks to ward off fever or\ndiptheria.\n\n\"We used to call de cows on de plantation like dis: 'co-winch,\nco-winch'. We called de mules like dis: 'co, co', and de hogs and pigs,\n'pig-oo, pig-oo'. We had dogs on de place, too, to hunt wid.\n\n\"When freedom come, de marster told us we could go away or stay on. Most\nof us stayed on wid him. Soon atter dis, he got mad at me one day and\ntold me to git off de place. I come to town and stayed about two weeks,\npiddling around to git along. I found out whar my mother was--she had\nbeen sold and sent away. She was in Saluda (Old Town). I went to her and\nstayed two weeks; den she come to Newberry and rented a little cabin on\nBeaver Dam Creek, near Silver Street.\n\n\"I remember hearing about de Yankees. When dey come through here dey\ncamped in town to keep order and peace. I remember de Ku Klux, too, how\nsome of 'em killed niggers. I voted in town on de Republican ticket. I\nam still a Republican. None of my friends held office, but I remember\nsome of dem. Old Lee Nance was one, and he was killed by a white man.\n\n\"Since de war, de niggers have worked mostly on farms, renting and\nwage-hands. Some of dem have bought little places. Some moved to town\nand do carpenter work, and others jes' piddle around.\n\n\"Some of de dances de niggers had was, 'Jump Jim Crow'; one nigger would\njump up and down while tripping and dancing in de same spot. Some times\nhe say, 'Every time I jump, I jump Jim Crow.' We had what was called a\n'Juber' game. He would dance a jig and sing, 'Juber this, Juber that,\nJuber killed a yellow cat'.\n\n\"I never thought much about Abraham Lincoln nor Jefferson Davis. Only\nseed de pictures of dem. Reckon dey was all right. Don't know nothing\nabout Booker Washington, neither.\n\n\"I was 25 years old when I joined de church. I joined because I thought\nI ought to, people preaching Christ and him crucified; and I thought I\nought to do right. Think everybody ought to join de church and be\nreligious.\n\n\"What I think of de present generation is hard to say. Dey is not like\nde old people was. De old generation of chilluns could be depended on,\nbut de present niggers can't be.\n\n\"No, de slaves never expected anything when de war was over, dem in de\nneighborhood didn't. Some say something about gitting 40 acres of land\nand a mule, but we never expected it. None ever got anything, not even\nmoney from de old marsters or anybody.\"\n\n Source: John N. Davenport (N, 89), Newberry, S. C. RFD\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (11/3/37)\n\n\n\n\n Project 1886-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n June 8, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born, March 10, 1848, on Little River in Newberry county, S. C.\nMy master in slavery time was Gilliam Davenport. He was good to his\nslaves, not strict; good to his cattle, and expected his negroes to be\ngood to them. But he was quick to resent anything from outsiders who\ncrossed his path.\n\n\"All that part of the country was good for hunting. The deer, fox, and\nwild turkey have gone; though a few years ago, some men brought some\nfoxes there and turned them loose, thinking they would breed, but they\ngradually disappeared. The kildees were many. That was a sign of good\nweather. When they flew high and around in a circle, it was a sign of\nhigh winds.\n\n\"Fishing in the rivers was much done. They fished with hooks on old-time\ncanes. They had fish baskets, made of wooden splits, with an opening at\nthe end like the wire baskets now used. If they were set anytime, day or\nnight, a few hours afterwards would be enough time to catch some fish.\n\n\"An old sign was: when the youngest child sweeps up the floor, somebody\nwas coming to see you. If a dish-rag was dropped on the floor, somebody\nwas coming who would be hungry.\"\n\n Source: Moses Davenport (89), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (5/10/37)\n\n\n\n\n Code No.\n Project, 1886-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, July 28, 1937\n No. Words ----\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n CHARLIE DAVIS\n Ex-Slave, 88 Years\n\n\n\"I couldn' tell how old I is only as I ask my old Massa son en he tell\nme dat I was born ahead of him cause he had de day put down in he family\nbook. I had one of dem slavery bible, but I have a burnin out so many\ntimes dat it done been burn up. I belong to Mr. George Crawford people.\nMr. George de one what die up here one of dem other year not far back.\nDey who been my white folks.\"\n\n\"I can tell you a good deal bout what de people do in slavery time en\nhow dey live den, but I can' tell you nothin bout no jump about things.\nMy Massa didn' 'low us to study bout none of dem kind of frolickings in\ndat day en time.\"\n\n\"I gwine tell you it just like I experience it in dem days. We chillun\nlived well en had plenty good ration to eat all de time cause my mammy\ncook for she Missus dere to de big house. All she chillun lived in a one\nroom house right dere in de white folks yard en eat in de Missus big\nkitchen every day. Dey give my mammy en she chillun just such things as\nde white folks had to eat like biscuit en cake en ham en coffee en\nhominy en butter en all dat kind of eatin. Didn' have no need to worry\nbout nothin 'tall. My Massa had a heap of other colored peoples dere\nbesides we, but dey never live dat way. Dere been bout 80 of dem dat\nlive up in de quarter just like you see dese people live to de sawmill\ndese days. Dey live mighty near like us, but didn' have no flour bread\nto eat en didn' get no milk en ham neither cause dey eat to dey own\nhouse. Didn' get nothin from de dairy but old clabber en dey been mighty\nthankful to get dat. Oh, dey had a pretty good house to live in dat was\nfurnish wid dey own things dat dey make right dere. Den dey had a garden\nof dey own. My Massa give every one of he plantation family so much of\nland to plant for dey garden en den he give em every Saturday for dey\ntime to tend dat garden. You see dey had to work for de white folks all\nde other week day en dey know when dey hear dat cow horn blow, dey had\nto do what de overseer say do. Never couldn' go off de place widout dey\nget a mit (permit) from de overseer neither else dey tore up when dey\ncome back. No 'mam, didn' dare to have nothin no time. Didn' 'low you to\ngo to school cause if you was to pick up a book, you get bout 100 lashes\nfor dat. No 'mam, didn' have no church for de colored peoples in dem\ndays. Just had some of dese big oaks pile up one on de other somewhe' in\nde woods on dat whe' we go to church. One of de plantation mens what had\nmore learnin den de others was de one what do de preachin dere.\"\n\n\"My Massa wasn' never noways scraggeble to he colored peoples. Didn' cut\nem for every kind of thing, but I is see him beat my stepfather one time\ncause he run away en stay in de woods long time. Oh, he beat him wid a\nswitch or a stick or anything like dat he could get hold of.\"\n\n\"Didn' never know nothin bout doing no hard work in us chillun days.\nWhen I was a boy, I mind de crows out de field. Oh, crows was terrible\nbout pickin up peoples corn in times back dere. You see if dey let de\ncrows eat de corn up, dey had to go to de trouble of planting it all\nover again en dat how-come dey send we chillun in de field to mind de\ncrows off it. We just holler after em en scare em dat way. Crows was\nmighty worser in dem days den dey is dis day en time.\"\n\n\"I sho remembers when freedom was declare cause I was bout 16 year old\nden. When dem Yankees talk bout comin round, my Massa take all we\ncolored boys en all he fast horses en put em back in de woods to de\ncanebrake to hide em from de Yankees. It been many a year since den, but\nI recollects dat we was settin dere lookin for de Yankees to get as any\nminute. Wasn' obliged to make no noise neither. Oh, we had big chunk of\nlightwood en cook meat en hoecake en collards right dere in de woods.\nDen my Massa take one of dem oldest plantation boys to de war wid him en\nain' nobody never hear tell of him no more. He name Willie. O my Lord,\nwhen dey hear talk bout de Yankees comin, dey take all de pots en de\nkettles en hide em in holes in de fields en dey put dey silver bout some\ntree so dey know whe' dey bury it. Den dey hide de meat en de corn to de\ncolored peoples house en when dey hear talk of de Yankees gwine away,\ndey go en get em again. Dem Yankees never destroy nothin bout dere, but\ndey is make my Massa give em a cart of corn en a middlin of meat.\nYes'um, I look at dem Yankees wid me own eyes. Dey was all dressed up in\na blue uniform en dey was just as white as you is. Oh, dey said a lot of\nthings. Say dey was gwine free de niggers en if it hadn' been for dem,\nwe would been slaves till yet. Coase I rather be free den a slave, but\nwe never have so much worryations den as people have dese days. When we\nget out of clothes en get sick in dat day en time, we never had to do\nnothin but go to us Massa. Now, we have to look bout every which a way.\"\n\n\"My Massa ask my mother was she gwine live with him any longer after\nfreedom was declare en she say she never have no mind to leave dere. We\nlive on dere for one year en den we studied to get another place. I\nbelieves heap of dem white folks died just on account of us get freed.\nDey never didn' want us to be free.\"\n\n\"I heard a 'oman say somebody had conjured her, but I don' believe in\nnone of dat. I knows I got to die some of dese days en dat might come\nbefore me. I don' bother wid none of dat kind of thing, but I'll tell\nyou bout what I has experience. I had two dogs dere en somebody poison\nem cause dey tell me somebody do dat. Oh, I know dey was poison. De\npolice say de dog was poison. A 'oman do it dat had chillun what was\nafraid of my dog en dat how-come she poison it. I sho think she done it\ncause it just like dis, anything peoples tell me, I believes it.\"\n\n\"I have seen dem things peoples say is a ghost when I was stayin here to\nLake View. I plant a garden side de road en one night I hear somethin en\nI look out en dere was a great big black thing in me garden dat was\nmakin right for de house. I call me wife en tell her to look yonder. De\nthing was comin right to de house en my wife hurry en light up de lamp.\nI hear de peoples say if you didn' light up de lamp when you see a\nspirit, dat it would sho come in en run you out. I had done paid some\nmoney on de place but after I see dat thing, I didn' have no mind to\nwant it. Had de best garden en chickens dere I ever had, but I never\nbother no worry bout dat. Just pick right up en leave dere to come here\nen I been here ever since. I knows dat been somethin come dere to scare\nme out dat house. Dat ain' been nothin else but a spirit. Ain' been\nnothin else.\"\n\n Source: Charlie Davis, age 88, colored, Marion, S. C.\n Personal interview, July 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n Henry Grant\n Columbia, S. C.\n\n CHARLIE DAVIS'S MUSINGS.\n\n\nCharlie Davis, now seventy-nine years old, was a small boy when the\nslaves were freed. He lives alone in one room on Miller's Alley,\nColumbia, S. C., and is healthy and physically capable of self-support.\n\n\"I has been wonderin' what you wanted to talk to dis old nigger 'bout\nsince I fust heard you wanted to see me. I takes it to be a honor for a\nwhite gentleman to desire to have a conversation wid me. Well, here I\nis, and I bet I's one of de blackest niggers you's seen for a season.\nSomehow, I ain't 'shame of my color a-tall. If I forgits I is dark\ncomplected, all I has to do is to look in a glass and in dere I sho'\ndon't see no white man.\n\n\"Boss, I is kinda glad I is a black man, 'cause you knows dere ain't\nmuch expected of them nowhow and dat, by itself, takes a big and heavy\nburden off deir shoulders. De white folks worries too much over dis and\nover dat. They worries 'cause they ain't got no money and, when they\ngits it, they worries agin 'cause they is 'fraid somebody is gwine to\nsteal it from them. Yes, sir, they frets and fumes 'cause they can't\n'sociate wid big folks and, when they does go wid them, they is bothered\n'cause they ain't got what de big folks has got.\n\n\"It ain't dat way wid most niggers. Nothin' disturbs them much, 'cept a\nempty stomach and a cold place to sleep in. Give them bread to eat and\nfire to warm by, then, hush your mouth; they is sho' safe then! De\n'possum in his hollow, de squirrel in his nest, and de rabbit in his\nbed, is at home. So, de nigger, in a tight house wid a big hot fire, in\nwinter, is at home, too.\n\n\"Some sort of ease and comfort is 'bout what all people, both white and\nblack, is strivin' for in dis world. All of us laks dat somethin' called\n'tentment, in one way or de other. Many white folks and some darkies\nthinks dat a pile of money, a fine house to live in, a 'spensive\n'motorbile, fine clothes, and high 'ciety, is gwine to give them dat.\nBut, when they has all dis, they is still huntin' de end of de rainbow a\nlittle ahead of them.\n\n\"Is de black man nervous or is he natchally scary? Well, sir, I is gwine\nto say yes and no to dat. A nigger gits nervous when he hears somethin'\nhe don't understand and scared when he sees somethin' he can't make out.\nWhen he gits sho' 'nough scared, he moves right then, not tomorrow. Lak\nde wild animals of de woods, he ain't 'fraid of de dark, much, if he is\nmovin' 'bout, but when he stops, no house is too tight for him, in\nsummer or winter. If he sees a strange and curious sight at night, he\ndon't have to ask nobody what to do, 'cause he knows dat he has foots.\nIt is good-bye wid old clothes, bushes, and fences, when them foots gits\nto 'tendin' to deir business. When you hears a funny and strange noise\nand sees a curious and bad sight, I b'lieves you fust git nervous and\nthen dat feelin' grows stronger fas', 'til you git scared. I knows de\nfaster I moves, de slower I gits scared.\n\n\"From my age now, you can tell dat I was mighty little in slavery time.\nAll I knows 'bout them terrible times is what I has heard. I come pretty\nclose to them ticklish times, but I can't help from thinkin', even now,\ndat I missed a 'sperience in slavery time dat would be doin' me good to\ndis very day. Dere ain't no doubt dat many a slave learnt good lessons\ndat showed them how to work and stay out of de jail or poorhouse, dat's\nworth a little.\n\n\"I has heard my mammy say dat she b'long to de Wyricks dat has a big\nplantation in de northwestern part of Fairfield County and dat my daddy\nb'long to de Graddicks in de northern part of Richland County. Dese two\nplantations was just across de road from each other. Mammy said dat de\npatrollers was as thick as flies 'round dese plantations all de time,\nand my daddy sho' had to slip 'round to see mammy. Sometime they would\nketch him and whip him good, pass or no pass.\n\n\"De patrollers was nothin' but poor white trash, mammy say, and if they\ndidn't whip some slaves, every now and then, they would lose deir jobs.\nMy mammy and daddy got married after freedom, 'cause they didn't git de\ntime for a weddin' befo'. They called deirselves man and wife a long\ntime befo' they was really married, and dat is de reason dat I's as old\nas I is now. I reckon they was right, in de fust place, 'cause they\nnever did want nobody else 'cept each other, nohow. Here I is, I has\nbeen married one time and at no time has I ever seen another woman I\nwanted. My wife has been dead a long time and I is still livin' alone.\nAll our chillun is scattered 'bout over de world somewhere, and dat\nsomewhere is where I don't know. They ain't no help to me now, in my old\nage. But, I reckon they ain't to be blamed much, 'cause they is young,\nfull of warm blood and thinks in a different way from de older ones.\nThen, too, I 'spects they thinks deir old daddy would kinda be in deir\nway, and de best thing for them to do is to stay away from me. I don't\nknow, it just seems lak de way of de world.\n\n\"I come from de Guinea family of niggers, and dat is de reason I is so\nsmall and black. De Guinea nigger don't know nothin', 'cept hard work,\nand, for him to be so he can keep up wid bigger folks, he has to turn\n'round fas'. You knows dat if you puts a little hog in a pen wid big\nhogs, de little one has got to move 'bout in a hurry amongst de big\nones, to git 'nough to eat, and de same way wid a little person, they\nsho' has to hustle for what they gits. I has no head for learnin' what's\nin books, and if I had, dere wasn't no schools for to learn dat head,\nwhen I come 'long. I has made some money, 'long through de years, but\nnever knowed how to save it. Now I is so old dat I can't make much, and\nso, I just live somehow, dat's all.\n\n\"President Roosevelt has done his best to help de old, poor, and\nforgotten ones of us all, every color and race, while dis 'pression has\nbeen gwine on in dis country. Is us gwine to git dis new pension what is\ngwine 'bout, or is dat other somebody gwine to think he needs it worser\nthan us does? Dat's de question what 'sorbs my mind most, dese days. I\ndon't need much, and maybe I don't deserve nothin', but I sho' would lak\nto git hold of dat little dat's 'tended for me by dat man up yonder in\nWashington. (Roosevelt)\n\n\"Does I b'lieve in spirits and hants? My answer to dat question is dis:\n'Must my tremblin' spirit fly into a world unknown?' When a person goes\n'way from dis world, dere they is, and dere they is gwine to stay, 'til\njudgment.\"\n\n\n\n\n Code No.\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, January 21, 1938\n No. Words ----\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n HEDDIE DAVIS\n Ex-Slave, 72 Years\n\n\nLizzie Davis sends word for Heddie Davis to come over to her little\nshack to join in the conversation about old times and Heddie enters the\nroom with these words: \"Sis, I gwine hug your neck. Sis, I did somethin\nlast night dat I oughtn't done en I can' hardly walk dis mornin. Pulled\noff my long drawers last night en never had none to change wid. I can'\nbear to get down en pray or nothin like dat, my knee does ache me so\nbad. I gwine up town yonder en get some oil of wintergreen en put on it.\nYes'um, dat sho a good thing to strike de pain cause I heard bout dat\nlong years ago. Sis, ain' you got no coffee nowhe' dis mornin? God\nknows, de Lord sho gwine bless you, Sis.\"\n\n\"What honey? No'um, I won' here in slavery time. I was just tereckly\nafter it. Well, I come here a Lewis, but I inherited de Davis name when\nI married. Old man Peter Lewis was my daddy, en my mother--she was a\nNorth Carolina woman. Oh, I heard dat man talk bout de old time war so\nmuch dat I been know what was gwine fly out his mouth time he been have\na mind to spit it out. My daddy, he belonged to de old man Evans Lewis\nen he been de one his boss pick to carry to de war wid him. Yes'um, he\nstayed up dere to Fort Sumter four years a fightin en hoped shoot dem\nold Yankee robbers. My old man, he had one of dem old guns en I give it\nto his brother Jimmie. He lives way up yonder to de north en he carried\ndat gun wid him just cause I give it to him, he say. He marry my younger\nsister en she grayer den I is. Think dey say dey lives to Rockingham,\nNorth Carolina. Yes, honey, my daddy was sho in dat wash out dere to\nFort Sumter. Lord, have mercy, I never hear tell of crabs en shrimps in\nall my life till my daddy come back en tell bout a old woman would be\ngwine down de street, dere to Charleston, cryin, 'Shrimps, more\nshrimps.' But, my Lord, I can' half remember nothin dese days. If I had\nde sense I used to have, I would give de Lord de praise. Honey, he said\na lot of stuff bout de war. Told a whole chance of somethin. Tell us\nbout de parade en everything, but I is forgetful now en I just can'\nthink. De Bible say dat in de course of your life, you will be forgetful\nin dat how I is. Just can' think like I used to. You see, I gwine in 70\nnow.\n\n\"Oh, I was born dere to Mullins in January on de old man Evans Lewis'\nplantation. Den we moved dere to de Mark Smith place after freedom\nsettle here. Dat long high man, dat who been us boss. His wife was name\nSallie en de place was chock full of hands. No, mam, my white folks\ndidn' care bout no quarter on dey plantation. Colored people just\nthrowed 'bout all over de place. Oh, I tell you, it was a time cause de\nniggers was dere, plenty of dem. Some of dey house was settin side de\nroad, some over in dat corner, some next de big house en so on like dat\nall over de place. Oh, dey lived all right, I reckon. Never didn' hear\ndem say dey got back none. Hear dey live den better den de people lives\nnow. Oh, yes'um, I hear my parents say de white folks was good to de\ncolored people in slavery time. Didn' hear tell of nobody gettin nothin\nback on one another neither. No, child, didn' never hear tell of nothin\nlike dat. Seems like de people don' work dese days like dey used to\nnohow. Well, dey done somethin of everything in dat day en time en work\nbout all de time. Ain' nobody workin much to speak bout dese days cause\ndey walks bout too much, I say. I tell you, when I been a child gwine to\nschool, soon as I been get home in de evenin en hit dat door-step, I had\nto strip en put on my everyday clothes en get to work. Had to pick up\nwood en potatoes in de fall or pick cotton. Had to do somethin another\nall de time, but never didn' nobody be obliged to break dey neck en\nhurry en get done in dem days. Chillun just rushes en plays too much\ndese days, I say. No, Lord, I don' want to rush no time. I tellin you,\nwhen I starts to Heaven, I want to take my time gettin dere.\n\n\"Lord, child, I sho hope I gwine to Heaven some of dese days cause old\nSatan been ridin me so tough in dis here world, I ain' see no rest since\nI been know bout I had two feet. My husband, he treat me so mean, if he\nain' in Heaven, he in de other place, I say. Den all dem chillun, Lord a\nmercy, dey will kill you. I raised all mine by myself en I tell you,\ndey took de grease out of me.\n\n\"My daddy, he was a prayin man. Lord knows, he was a prayin man. Seems\nlike de old people could beat de young folks a prayin up a stump any\nday. I remember, my daddy come here to de white people church to\nTabernacle one night en time dem people see him, dey say, 'Uncle Peter,\nde Lord sho send you cause ain' nobody but you can pray dese sinners out\nof hell here tonight.' God knows dat man could sing en pray. Lord, he\ncould pray. Oh, darlin child, dat man prayed bout all de time. Prayed\nevery mornin en every night en when us would come out de field at 12\no'clock, us had to hear him pray fore he ever did allow us to eat near a\nmorsel. Sis, I remember one day, when dey first started we chillun a\nworkin in de field, I come to de house 12 o'clock en I was so hungry, I\nwas just a poppin. God knows, people don' serve de Lord like dey used\nto.\"\n\n\"Sis, you wants dat one patch, too. Lord Jesus, dere ain' no limit to\ndis one. Sis, I must be come here on Saturday cause everywhe' I goes, I\nhas to work. Hear talk, if you born on a Saturday, you gwine have to\nwork hard for what you get all your days. I been doin somethin ever\nsince I been big enough to know I somebody. Remember de first thing I\never do for a white woman. Ma come home en say, 'Heddie, get up in de\nmornin en wash your face en hands en go up to Miss Rogers en do\neverything just like she say do.' I been know I had to do dat, too,\ncause if I never do it, I know I would been whip from cane to cane.\nWhen I got dere, I open de gate en look up en dere been de new house en\ndere been de old one settin over dere what dey been usin for de kitchen\nden. I won' thinkin bout nothin 'cept what Miss Rogers was gwine say en\nwhen I been walk in dat gate, dere a big bulldog flew up in my head. I\nstop en look at him en dat dog jump en knock me windin en grabbed my\nfoot in his mouth. Yes'um, de sign dere yet whe' he gnawed me. White\nfolks tell me I been do wrong. Say, don' never pay no attention to a dog\nen dey won' bother up wid you. But, honey, dat dog had a blue eye en a\npink eye. Ain' never see a dog in such a fix since I been born. I tell\nyou, if you is crooked, white folks will sho straighten you out. Dat dog\ntaught me all I is ever wanted to know. Lord, Miss Mary, I been love dat\nwoman. De first time I ever see her, she say, 'You ain' got no dress to\nwear to Sunday School, I gwine give you one.' Yes, mam, Miss Mary dress\nme up en de Lord knows, I ain' never quit givin her de praise yet.\n\n\"Yes'um, de Yankees, I hear my daddy talk bout when dey come through old\nMassa's plantation en everything what dey do. Say, dere was a old woman\ndat was de cook to de big house en when dem Yankees come dere dat\nmornin, white folks had her down side de cider press just a whippin her.\nSay, de Yankees took de old woman en dressed her up en hitched up a\nbuggy en made her set up in dere. Wouldn' let de white folks touch her\nno more neither. Oh, de place was just took wid dem, he say. What dey\nnever destroy, dey carried off wid dem. Oh, Lord a mercy, hear talk dere\nwas a swarm of dem en while some of dem was in de house a tearin up,\ndere was a lot of dem in de stables takin de horses out. Yes'um, some\nwas doin one thing en some another. En Pa tell bout dey had de most\nsense he ever did see. Hitched up a cart en kept de path right straight\ndown in de woods en carted de corn up what de white folks been hide down\ndere in de canebrake. Den some went in de garden en dug up a whole lot\nof dresses en clothes. En dere was a lady in de house sick while all dis\nwas gwine on. Oh, dey was de worst people dere ever was, Pa say. Took\nall de hams en shoulders out de smokehouse en like I tell you, what dey\nnever carried off, dey made a scaffold en burned it up. Lord, have\nmercy, I hopes I ain' gwine never have to meet no Yankees.\"\n\n Source: Heddie Davis, colored, age 72, Marion, S. C.\n Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Jan., 1938.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n HENRY DAVIS\n EX-SLAVE 80 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nHenry Davis is an old Negro, a bright mulatto, who lives in a two-room\nframe house on the farm of Mr. Amos E. Davis, about two miles southwest\nof Winnsboro, S. C.\n\nIn the house with him, are his wife, Rosa, and his grown children,\nRoosevelt, Utopia, and Rose. They are day laborers on the farm. At this\nperiod, Henry picks about seventy-five pounds of cotton a day. His\nchildren average one hundred and fifty pounds each. The four together\nare thus enabled to gather about five hundred and twenty-five pounds per\nday, at the rate of sixty-five cents per hundred. This brings to the\nfamily, a daily support of $3.41. This is seasonal employment, however;\nand, as they are not a provident household, hard times come to Henry and\nhis folks in the winter and early summer.\n\n\"I was born on de old Richard Winn plantation dat my master, Dr. W. K.\nTurner, owned and lived on. I was born de year befo' him marry Miss\nLizzie Lemmon, my mistress in slavery time.\n\n\"My mother was name Mary and took de name of Davis, 'cause befo' freedom\ncome, her was bought by my master, from Dr. Davis, near Monticello.\n\n\"I had a good many marsters and mistresses. Miss Minnie marry Dr.\nScruggs. Miss Anna marry Mr. Dove. Miss Emma marry Mr. Jason Pope. Marse\nWillie K. marry a Miss Carroll up in York, S. C., and Marse Johnnie\nmarry Miss Essie Zealy. My brothers and sisters was Minton, Ike, Martha,\nand Isabella.\n\n\"Who I marry and all 'bout it? How come you want to know dat? I 'clare!\nYou think dat gwine to loosen me up? Well, I marry de 'Rose of Sharon'\nor I calls her dat when I was sparkin' her, though she was a Lemmon. Her\nwas name Rose Lemmon. Lots of times she throw dat in my face, 'Rose of\nSharon' when things go wrong. Then her git uppish and sniff, 'Rose of\nSharon, my eye! You treats me lak I was a dogwood rose on de hillside or\nworse than dat, lak I was a Jimson weed or a rag weed.'\n\n\"My mammy and us chillun live in de yard not far from de kitchen. My\nmammy do de washin' and ironin'. Us chillun did no work. I ride 'round\nmost of de time wid de doctor in his buggy and hold de hoss while he\nvisit de patients. Just set up in de buggy and wait 'til him git ready\nto go to another place or go home.\n\n\"I 'member de Yankees comin' and searchin' de house, takin' off de cows,\nmules, hosses, and burnin' de gin-house and cotton. They say dat was\nGeneral Sherman's orders. They was 'lowed to leave de dwellin' house\nstandin', in case of a doctor or preacher.\n\n\"Miss Lizzie had a whole lot of chickens. Her always keep de finest\npullets. She make pies and chicken salad out of de oldest hens. Dat\nFebruary de Yankees got here, she done save up 'bout fifty pullets dat\nwas ready to lay in March. A squad of Yankees make us chillun ketch\nevery one and you know how they went 'way wid them pullets? They tie two\non behind, in de rings of de saddle. Then they tie two pullets together\nand hang them on de saddle pommel, one on each side of de hosses neck.\nDat throw them flankin' de hosses withers. I 'members now them gallopin'\noff, wid them chickens flutterin' and hollerin' whare, whare, whare,\nwhare, whare!\n\n\"After slavery time, us live on de Turner place nigh onto thirty years\nand then was de time I go to see Rosa and court and marry her. Her folks\nb'long to de Lemmons and they had stayed on at de Lemmon's place. De\nwhite folks of both plantations 'courage us to have a big weddin'. Her\nwhite folks give her a trousseau and mine give me a bedstead, cotton\nmattress, and two feather pillows. Dat was a mighty happy day and a\nmighty happy night for de 'Rose of Sharon'. Her tells young niggers\n'bout it to dis day, and I just sets and smokes my pipe and thinks of\nall de days dat am passed and gone and wonder if de nex' world gwine to\nbring us back to youth and strength to 'joy it, as us did when Rose and\nme was young.\n\n\"Does I 'members anything 'bout patrollers? 'Deed, I do! Marster didn't\n'ject to his slaves gwine to see women off de place. I hear him say so,\nand I hear him tell more than once dat if he ever hear de patrollers a\ncomin' wid blood hounds, to run to de lot and stick his foots in de mud\nand de dogs wouldn't follow him. Lots of run'ways tried it, I heard, and\nit proved a success and I don't blame them dogs neither.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project #1655\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n JESSE DAVIS\n EX-SLAVE 85 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nJesse Davis, one of the fast disappearing landmarks of slavery times,\nlives with his wife and son, in one of the ordinary two-room frame\nhouses that dot, with painful monotony, the country farms of white\nlandowners. The three attempt to carry on a one-horse farm of forty\nacres, about thirty acres in cotton and the remainder in corn. The\nstandard of living is low. Jesse is cheerful, his wife optimistic with\nthe expression that the Lord will provide, and their son dutiful and\nhopeful of the harvest. Their home is about ten miles southwest of\nWinnsboro, in the Horeb section of Fairfield County.\n\n\"Dere is some difficulty 'bout my age. Nigh as I can place it, I was\nborn befo' de Civil War. I 'members 'tendin' to and milkin' de cows, and\nkeepin' de calf off, drawin' water out de well, and bringin' in wood to\nmake fires. I 'spects I's eighty-five, mountin' up in years.\n\n\"I lives on Mr. Eber Mason's place wid one of my chillun, a son name\nMingo. Us all work on de place; run a farm on shares. I can't do much\nwork and can't support myself. It's mighty hard to be 'pendent on others\nfor your daily rations, even if them others is your own bone and flesh.\nI'd 'preciate sumpin' to help my son and wife carry on. Dats why I wants\na pension. Do you 'spect God in His mercy will hear de prayer of dis\nfeeble old believer? I don't beg people but de Bible give me a right to\nbeg God for my daily bread. De Good Book say: 'Take no consarnment 'bout\nyour raiment'. You can see from what I's got on, dat me nor nobody else,\nis much consarned 'bout dis raiment.\n\n\"My mammy b'long to de Smiths. My master was Dr. Ira Smith. My mistress\nwas him wife, Miss Sarah. Deir chillun was: Marse Gad, Marse Jim, and\nMarse Billie. Marse Jim was de baker of dis town all his life, after de\nway of old-time oven-cookin', 'til Boy bread and Claussen bread wagons\nrun him out of business. Him is now on de 'lief roll and livin' in de\nold McCreight house, de oldest house in Winnsboro.\n\n\"Dere was my young misses, Miss Lizzie and Miss Lennie. My mammy name\nSarah, just lak old mistress name Sarah. Her b'long to marster and\nmistress but my pappy no b'long to them. Him b'long to de big bugs, de\nDavis family. Him was name Mingo, and after slavery him and all us take\nde name, de secon' name, Davis, and I's here today, Jesse Davis. See how\ndat work out to de name? Good Book again say: 'Good name better than\nriches; sweeter to de ear than honey-comb to de tongue.'\n\n\"You is well 'quainted wid Marse Amos Davis, ain't you? Well, his people\nwas pappy's people. I had a brudder name Gabriel, tho' they called him\nGabe. Another one name Chap; he got kilt while clearin' up a new ground.\nSister Fannie marry a Ashford nigger. Marse Ira, de doctor, have a\nplantation near Jenkinsville, S. C.\n\n\"When de Yankees come thru, they come befo' de main army. They gallop\nright up, jump down and say: 'Hold dese hosses! Open dat smoke-house\ndoor!' They took what they could carry 'way. 'Bout dat time marster rode\nup from a sick call him been 'tendin' to. Course you know him was a\ndoctor. They surround him, take his watch, money, and hoss, and ride\n'way.\n\n\"De main army come nex' day, Saturday mornin' 'bout 8 o'clock. They\nspread deir tents and stay and camp 'til Monday mornin'. When they leave\nthey carry off all de cows, hogs, mules, and hosses. Then they have us\nketch de chickens, got them all, 'cept one old hen dat run under de\nhouse, and they didn't wait to git her. Marster have to go 'way up to\nUnion County, where him have kin folks, to git sumpin' to eat.\n\n\"My marster was not big rich lak de Davises, de Means, and de Harpers,\nbut him have all them people come to see him. Him know a heap of things\ndat they 'preciate. De way to dye cloth was one of dese secrets. Marster\nhave a madder bed. Him take de roots of dat madder put them in de sun\njust lak you put out pieces of apples and peaches to make dried fruit.\nWhen them roots git right dry, him have them ground up fine as\nwater-ground meal. He put de fine dust in a pot and boil it. When he\nwant red cloth, he just drop de cloth in dat pot and it come out all red\nto suit you. Want it blue, him have a indigo patch for dat.\n\n\"I never hear anything 'bout alum dese days. Well, de slaves could take\npeach tree leaves and alum and make yellow cloth and old cedar tops and\ncopperas and make tan cloth. Walnut stain and copperas and make any\ncloth brown. Sweet-gum bark and copperas and make any cloth a purple\ncolor. I 'member goin' wid one into de woods to git barks. One day old\nmarster come 'cross a slippery elm tree. Him turn and command me to say\nright fast: 'Long, slim, slick saplin' and when I say long, slim, sick\nslaplin', him 'most kill hisself laughin'. You try dat now! You find it\nmore harder to say than you think it is. Him give me a piece of dat bark\nto chew and I run at de mouth lak you see a hoss dat been on de range of\nwild clover all night and slobberin' at da bits.\n\n\"Yes sah, I b'longs to de church! My wife and son, Mingo, just us three\nin de house and de whole household jined de Morris Creek Baptist Church.\nWhat's my favorite song? None better than de one dat I'll h'ist right\nnow. Go ahead? I thanks you. Listen:\n\n 'Am I born to die\n To lay dis body down\n A charge to keep I have\n A God to glorify.'\n\n\"You lak dat? Yes? You is praisin' me too highly I 'spect, but since you\nlak dat one just listen at dis one; maybe you change your mind, 'cause\nI's gwine to h'ist it a wee bit higher and put more of de spiritual in\nit. Ready? Yes? I stand up dis time.\n\n 'All de medicine you may buy\n All de doctors you may try\n Ain't gonna save you from de tomb\n Some day you got to lay down and die.\n De blood of de Son can only\n Save you from de doom!\n Some day you got to lay down and die.'\n\n\"You lak dat one? You just ought to hear my wife, Mingo, and Me, singin'\ndat 'round de fire befo' us go to bed.\n\n\"Well, I'll toddle 'long now. Good-bye.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, February 4, 1938\n\n LIZZIE'S 'SPONSIBILITY\n\n\n I.\n\nThe first scene of \"Lizzie's 'Sponsibility\" is that of the small, one\nroom dwelling place of Lizzie Davis, aged colored woman of Marion, S. C.\nA disorderly, ill-lighted, crudely furnished room, saturated with the\nodor of food. Behind the front door stands a gayly colored iron bed,\nover which is thrown a piece of oilcloth to keep the rain from leaking\non it. In the center of the room are several little quaint home-made\nstools and two broken rockers, while in one corner sits a roughly\nfinished kitchen table, the dumping place of all small articles. Still\nin another corner, almost hidden from sight in the darkness, is the dim\noutline of an old trunk gaping open with worn out clothing, possibly the\ngift of some white person. A big fireplace in one side of the wall not\nonly furnishes heat for the little room, but also serves as a cooking\nplace for Lizzie to prepare her meals. On its hearth sits a large iron\nkettle, spider, and griddle, relics of an earlier day. The room is dimly\nlighted by the fire and from two small doors, together with a few tiny\nstreaks that peep through at various cracks in the walls and top of\nhouse.\n\nIt is about 9 o'clock on a cold, drizzly morning in January, 1938. The\nlittle two room house, in which Lizzie rents one room for herself,\ndisplays an appearance of extreme coldness and dilapidation, as a\nvisitor approaches the doorway on this particular morning. It is with\nsomewhat of an effort that the visitor finally reaches the barred door\nof Lizzie's room, after making a skip here and there to keep from\nfalling through the broken places in the little porch and at the same\ntime trying to dodge the continual dripping of the rain through numerous\ncrevices in the porch roof. Within is the sound of little feet scuffling\nabout on the floor, the chatter of tiny children mixed with mumblings\nfrom Lizzie, and the noise of chairs and stools being roughly shoved\nabout on the floor.\n\nA rap on the door brings Lizzie, crippled up since she was twelve years\nof age, hobbling to the door. Taking her walking stick, she lifts the\nlatch gently and the door opens slightly. A gray head appears through\nthe crack of the door and Lizzie, peeping out from above her tiny rim\nspectacles, immediately recognizes her visitor. She offers her usual\ncheerful greeting and begins hastily to push the large wooden tubs from\nthe door to make room for her visitor to enter, though it is with\nunusual hesitancy that she invites her guest to come in on this\noccasion.\n\nLizzie--Come in, Miss Davis. I feelin right smart dis mornin. How you\nbeen keepin yourself? Miss Davis, I regrets you have to find things so\nnasty up in here dis mornin, but all dis rainy weather got me obliged to\nkeep dese old tubs settin all bout de floor here to try en catch up de\nwater what drips through dem holes up dere. See, you twist your head up\ndat way en you can tell daylight through all dem cracks. Dat how I know\nwhen it bright enough to start to stir myself on a mornin.\n\nYes'um, I tell Miss Heddie here de other day dat I had promise you I was\ngwine study up some of dem old time songs to give you de next time you\ncome back. Miss Heddie, she lookin to a right sharp age, I say. Yes'um,\nshe been here a time, honey. I tell her to be gettin her dogs together\ncause I was sho gwine point her out to you de next time I see you.\n\nI tell you, Miss Davis, I got a 'sponsibility put on me here to look\nafter all dese chillun. Yes'um, it sho a 'sponsibility cause I think\ndere five of dem dere, en it de truth in de Lord sight, dey has me\nsettin up so straight to keep a eye on dem dat I can' never settle my\nmind on nothin. Dey won' let me keep nothin clean. Ain' no use to scrub\nnone, I say. You see, cripple up like I is, I ain' able to get no work\noff nowhe' en I keeps dem while dey parents work out. Dey mammas have a\njob to cook out en dey brings dem here bout 6 o'clock in de mornin for\nme to see after till dey get home in de afternoon. Cose dey helps me\nalong, but it takes what little dey give me to keep dem chillun warm\ncause I has to try en keep a fire gwine, dey be so little. Dere Bertha\nLee en Joseph, dey start gwine to school dis year en I has to see dey\ngets fix decent en march dem off to school every mornin. Dem other three\ndere, dey name: Possum en June en Alfred. Ain' but just one girl en\ndat--\n\n(Lizzie's attention turns to June, who comes in crying from the back\nyard, where all the children went to play during Lizzie's conversation\nwith her visitor).\n\nLizzie--What de matter wid you, June?\n\nJune--Aun' Izzie, Possum knock me wid de ax.\n\nLizzie--Great King! What a peculiar thing to hit you wid. How-come he to\ndo dat?\n\nJune--He was bustin up dem stick out dere side de wood pile.\n\nLizzie--Oh, well, you just go en butt up on de ax. Dat ain' no fault of\nhe own den. Clean up dat face en gwine on way from here.\n\n(June, crying to himself, remains seated on the little stool).\n\nLizzie--Let me see now, Miss Davis, I tryin to get some of dem old time\nsongs together to turn for you what you been axin me bout de other time\nyou come here. Yes'um, I tryin to blow my dogs--\n\n(Possum enters the room).\n\nPossum--Aun' Izzie, I was bustin up dem splinters dat my daddy brung for\nyou to cook wid en June come en set right under de ax.\n\nLizzie--Um-huh, ain' I tell you so? Whe' de ax, Possum? Fetch it here en\nput it in de corner. Ain' none of you had no business wid dat ax nohow.\nAin' I tell you to mind your way round dat ax?\n\n(Possum runs back out in the yard).\n\nLizzie--Like I tellin you, Miss Davis, if de people had a song in de old\ndays, dey would put it down on a long strip called a ballad, but honey,\nI been through de hackles en I can' think of nothin like I used to\ncould. Is anybody sing dis one for you, Miss Davis? It a old one, too,\ncause I used to hear--\n\n(Alfred comes in to tell his tale).\n\nAlfred--Aun' Izzie, June set on Possum's pile of splinters dat he was\nmakin en Possum let de ax fall right on June's head.\n\nLizzie--Dey is cases, Miss Davis. I tellin you, dese chillun just gets\neverything off my mind. Most makes me forget to eat sometimes. Dere Miss\nJulia Woodberry, poor creature, she been down mighty sick en I ain' been\nable to go en see bout her no time. Don' know what ailin her cause I\ndon' gets bout nowhe' much. No, mam, dese chillun don' have no manners\nto go visitin en I can' left dem here widout nobody to mind bout dat dey\ndon' run--\n\nJoseph--Aun' Izzie, I ain' gwine wear no coat to school dis mornin.\n\nLizzie--Boy, is you crazy? What de matter wid you, ain' you know de\nground been white wid Jack Frost dis mornin? En you clean up dat nose\nfore you get dere to school, too. You ain' say your ma send you here\nwidout no pocket rag to wipe your nose wid? You ma, she know better den\nto 'spect me to hunt rags for you. Come here en let me fasten up dat\ncoat round de neck. You look like a turkey buzzard wid it gapin open\ndat way. Whe' Bertha Lee? It time both you been in dat road gwine to\nschool dere.\n\n(Bertha Lee and Joseph go out the door to leave for school).\n\nLizzie--Lord a mercy, Miss Davis, my mind just a windin. How dat song\nturn what I had for you?\n\n One for Paul,\n En one for Sidas--\n\nLizzie--Joseph, how-come you ain' tell dese chillun good-bye?\n\nJoseph--Good-bye Possum, good-bye June, good-bye Alfred.\n\nPossum, June, Alfred--Good-bye Joseph.\n\nLizzie--Is you got dat one now, Miss Davis? What de next? Great\nJeruselum! Dem chillun done carry dat tune way wid dem. I can' turn dat\none to save my neck. Just can' come to de turn table as de old man would\nsay. (12 o'clock mill whistle blows, time teller for many colored people\nof the community). Lord a mercy, what dat whistle say? It done come 12\no'clock en dat pot ain' thought bout to kick up none yet. I tell you,\nhoney, it sho a 'sponsibility I got put on me here to cook for all dese\nchillun en see dey ration is cook mighty done, too, so as dey won' be\ngwine round gruntin wid dey belly hurtin all de evenin.\n\n(Lizzie begins to stir up the fire to make the pot boil and her visitor\ndecides to return later to hear the songs).\n\n Date, February 7, 1938\n\n\nII\n\nIt is a damp, chilly mornin about three weeks later, when Lizzie's\nvisitor returns to hear her sing old time songs. June, Bertha Lee, and\nAlfred are playing in the street before the little house.\n\nVisitor--Is Aun' Lizzie at home?\n\nJune, Alfred, Bertha Lee--Yes'um, she in dere. She in de house.\n\nVisitor--You children better mind how you run about in all this damp\nweather, it might make you sick.\n\nJune--Possum's got de chicken pox.\n\nAlfred--Possum's got de chicken pox.\n\nJune--Me sick, too.\n\nBertha Lee--I got a cold.\n\nAlfred--I sick, too.\n\nVisitor--Poor little Possum. Is he sick much?\n\nAlfred--Yes'um, he stay right in dat room dere. (Room next to Lizzie's\nroom with a separate front door).\n\nBertha Lee--He mamma had de chicken pox first en den Possum, he took\ndown wid it.\n\nJune--Dere he now! Dere Possum! (Possum appears from around the corner\nof the house with both hands full of cold fish).\n\n(Alfred goes to Lizzie's door to tell her that she has a visitor)\n\nAlfred--Aun' Izzie, somebody out dere wanna see you.\n\nLizzie--Holy Moses! Who dat out dere? Boy, you ain' tellin me no story,\nis you? Mind you now, you tell me a story en I'll whip de grease out\nyou.\n\nBertha Lee--Aun' Izzie, ain' nobody but Miss Davis out dere.\n\n(Lizzie hobbles to the door on her stick).\n\nLizzie--How you is, Miss Davis? I ain' much to speak bout dis mornin. I\ntell you de truth, Miss Davis, dese chillun keeps me so worried up dat I\ndon' know whe' half my knowin gone, I say. Great Lord a mercy, dere\nPossum out dere in de air now en he been puny, too.\n\nVisitor--The children tell me Possum has the chicken pox.\n\nLizzie--No'um, he ain' got no chicken pox, Miss Davis. Dey thought he\nhad it cause he mamma been ailin dat way, but I don' see nothin de\nmatter wid him 'cept what wrong wid he mouth. Possum, stand back dere\nway from Miss Davis, I say. Yes'um, he been sorta puny like dis here\nlast week. He mamma must been feed him too much en broke he mouth out\ndat--\n\nJune--Miss Davis, I know how to spell my name.\n\nBertha Lee--I know how to spell my name, too. Me likes to go to school.\n\nVisitor--Oh, I think it is nice to like to go to school. What do you do\nat school?\n\nJune--Pull off your hat.\n\nBertha Lee--Us writes.\n\nVisitor--Lizzie, how about those old time songs you promised to study up\nfor me? You ought to have a mind running over with them by this time.\n\nLizzie--Lord, Lord, honey, I had study up a heap of dem old tunes here\nde other day, but I tellin you de truth, Miss Davis, dese chillun got me\nso crazy till nothin won stick--\n\n(Willie, age 10, comes over to play with the children and begins to\nwhistle.).\n\nLizzie--Willie, ain' you know it ill manners to whistle in anybody\nhouse? Dere now, it impolite to walk by anybody house whistlin, too. You\nis too big a boy for dat. Ain' gwine stand for you learnin dese chillun\nno such manners for me to beat it out dem. No, boy, mind yourself way\nfrom here now, I got to hunt up dat tune for Miss Davis. Yes'um, I got\none of dem old tune poppin now. Let me see--Great Happy! Dat pot done\ngwine out all my sparks. (Lizzie rushes in the house to look after a pot\nthat she hears boilin over on the fire).\n\nJune--Bertha Lee, de lady don' know whe' us sleeps, do she?\n\nBertha Lee--Dere us house over dere.\n\n(Bertha Lee gets up to point the house out and June immediately slides\ninto her seat on the bench next to the visitor).\n\nBertha Lee--Move way, June.\n\nJune--No, dis place whe' I been.\n\nBertha Lee--June, go further, I say.\n\nJune--No, Bertha Lee, dis whe' I been.\n\nBertha Lee--No, go further. (June holds his place) I go tell Aun' Izzie\nden.\n\nVisitor--Tell Lizzie I'm waitin to hear that tune she promised to sing.\n\nBertha Lee--Aun' Izzie, June settin in my place.\n\nLizzie--Fetch yourself on back out dere now, Bertha Lee, en settle your\nown scrap. Ain' you shame of yourself en you bigger den June, too? Go\nway from here, I say. I ain' got no time to monkey up wid you. I got to\nget dese collards boilin hard, else dey ain' gwine get done time you\nchillun start puffin for your dinner. Go way, I tell you. Miss Davis, I\ncomin toreckly.\n\n(Bertha Lee returns to the porch quietly and takes her place on the\nopposite side of the visitor, while June clings to his place).\n\nJune--Miss Davis, does you know Mr. Rembert?\n\nVisitor--Is he your father?\n\nBertha Lee and June--No, he ain' us daddy.\n\nJune--Mr. Rembert, he bought me everything I got. He shoe horses. Don'\nyou know him now?\n\nBertha Lee--He bought June's sweater, but dem my overalls he got on.\n\nJune--Dem dere pretty buttons you got on you, Miss Davis.\n\nBertha Lee--Sho is, en dem little chain dere.\n\nJune--Me got a sweater just like her coat.\n\nBertha Lee--Ain' just like it.\n\nJune--It most like it.\n\nBertha Lee--No, it ain' cause dis here wool.\n\n(Lizzie returns to the porch and sits on a little stool near her door).\n\nLizzie--Lord, Miss Davis, dat tune done left me. Now, de next time dat I\nget a tune in my mind. I gwine sho get somebody to place it for me. It\nde Lord truth, my mind gwine just so wid so much of chillun worryations\ntill--\n\nJune--Me can sing.\n\nPossum--Aun' Izzie, I ain' got nothin to eat.\n\n(Lizzie returns to her room again to stir up the fire and get Possum\nsome bread).\n\nBertha Lee--Sing den, June.\n\nJune--Un-uh, I can'. Aun' Izzie might hear me.\n\nBertha Lee--I gwine sing den.\n\nJune--\n\n \"I sees de lighthouse--amen,\n I sees de lighthouse--amen,\n I sees de lighthouse--amen.\"\n\n(Lizzie and Possum return to porch. Possum has three muffins).\n\nLizzie--Clean up your nose dere, Alfred. Miss Davis, I ready. Sho got a\nmind to turn dat tune dis----\n\nAlfred--Possum wouldn' fetch me no bread, Aun' Izzie.\n\nLizzie--Dere dey go again, Miss Davis. No, you can' have none of\nPossum's bread. Gwine on in dere en catch you a piece out your own pan.\nYou eat up Possum's bread en den he'll be de one howlin bout he ain' got\nnone.\n\n(Alfred goes in the room and comes back with a biscuit).\n\nLizzie--I pretty certain I ready now, Miss Davis. Let dem all get dey\nbelly full en den dey head won' be turnin so sharp. Dat how-come I\ntries--\n\nPossum--Aun' Izzie, Alfred eatin June's bread.\n\nLizzie--Alfred, look here, boy, you know dat ain' none of your bread.\nYou sho gwine get a lickin for dat. (Lizzie slaps him). Your ma, she\nain' never left nothin but corn hoecake in your pan since you been born\nen you know dat, too. Dem chillun carries me in de clock sometimes, Miss\nDavis. Dis one en dat one callin me en de Lord help me, I forgets what I\ndoin--Clean up dat nose dere, boy.\n\nJune--My nose clean.\n\nLizzie--Possum know I talkin to him. Get on in dere en tell Miss Mammie\nto give you a pocket rag, Possum. (Miss Mammie is Possum's aunt who came\nto spend the day with them).\n\nBertha Lee--\n\n \"Peter Rabbit, Ha! Ha! Ha!\n Make Your Ears Go, Flop! Flop! Flop!\"\n\nLizzie--I has to ax you to bear wid me, Miss Davis. I sorry you come\nhere on a dead shot en ain' gettin no birds. Lord knows, I tryin to get\nmy mind--\n\nJune--Oo, Aun' Izzie, Joseph been cuttin out Willie's book.\n\n(Lizzie's attention is attracted to Willie, who looks worried about his\ntorn book.)\n\nLizzie--Great mercy, boy, you ought to have a pain in de chest. Look,\nyou settin dere wid your bosom wide open. Fasten up your neck dere, I\nsay.--Possum, come here, is you do like I tell you? Is you ax Miss\nMammie for somethin to clean up dat nose wid?\n\nPossum--Yes'um.\n\nLizzie--Look out now, I'll whip you for tellin a story. Whe' de rag? No,\nyou ain' ax her neither. Gwine on en clean up dat nose fore I wear you\nout.\n\n(Possum goes around corner of house).\n\nLizzie--Help me Lord not to forget it dis time. I sho got dat tune----\n\nJune--Aun' Izzie, Aun' Izzie, Possum fall in de tub of water what settin\nunder de pump.\n\n(Possum appears from around the corner of the house just at that moment\ndrenched and almost frozen).\n\nLizzie--Great Lord a mercy! Possum, you looks like a drowned possum sho\nenough. Why ain' you do like I tell you to do? You know I don' never\nallow you chillun ramblin round dat pump tub no time. Ain' nobody want\nto drink out no tub you wash your snotty nose in. Fetch yourself in dere\nto de fire en dry yourself fore you is catch a death of cold. Gwine on,\nboy. Don' stand dere en watch me like a frizzle chicken. Dere Mr. John\nFortune comin now. I gwine tell him to catch Possum en cook him up.\n\nPossum--I gwine run.\n\nLizzie--You say you gwine run?\n\nPossum--No'um, I ain' say I gwine run.\n\nLizzie--Mind you now, Possum, you know what I tell you bout a\nstory-teller.\n\nMammie--Miss Lizzie, I just don' believe he know right from wrong.\n\nLizzie--Well, I gwine learn him den. Ain' nothin I despises worser den a\nstory-teller. (Lizzie slaps Possum on the shoulder several times and\nsends him in the house to dry, shivering from both cold and fear.).\n\nLizzie--Miss Davis, Mr. John Fortune helps me out wonderfully wid dese\nchillun. Say, when dey bad, he gwine cook dem up en eat dem. Yes, mam, I\ntellin de truth, honey, dese chillun keeps me settin here listenin wid\nall my ears en lookin wid all my eyes, but dey is right sorta\nentertainin like. Yes'um, dey got so much of sense till dey done took\nwhat little I is had.\n\n(Alfred comes running in and leans up on Lizzie).\n\nLizzie--Clean up dat snotty nose, Alfred. You ought to been name Snotty\nwid your mouth all de time lookin like you ain' hear tell of no pocket\nrag. Move way from dere, June. Don' blow your nose settin side Miss\nDavis.\n\n Date, February 10, 1938\n\n\nIII\n\nIt is three days later. Lizzie is sitting on her little porch enjoying\nthe warm sunshine of a bright February day. The children have gone just\nacross the street to play on the sidewalk and while Lizzie keeps a\nwatchful eye on them, she is trying once more to call back to her mind\nsome of the old time songs that she used to sing in her early days. Her\nvisitor sits on a bench nearby ready to make notes of these old songs as\nshe sings them. Lizzie's attention is not only distracted by the\nchildren at intervals but also by different ones of her friends\nconstantly passing along the street in front of the small home.\n\nLizzie--Lord, Miss Davis, look like everything a hustlin dis mornin.\nYes'um, dis here Monday mornin en everybody is a bustlin gwine to see\nbout dey business. Seems like everything just gwine on, just gwine on. I\ntell you de truth, Miss Davis, I studied so hard bout dem songs de other\nnight, I beg de Massa to show me de light en he hop me to recollect dis\none for you. See, when you gets to de age I is, you is foolish--\n\n(Joseph runs across the street to tell Lizzie something).\n\nJoseph--Aun' Izzie, Possum teachin June to hit Jerry.\n\nLizzie--Uh-huh, I gwine sho beat him, too. (Lizzie turns to her visitor)\nPossum, he teachin June to knock dat little one wid de speckle coat on.\n\nVisitor--Is he another child that you are taking care of?\n\nLizzie--No'um, he grandma raise him en de poor little creature, he don'\nhave nobody to play wid. Look like nobody don' care when he come or whe'\nhe go. I say, I tries to collect mine up en take care of dem cause it\ndis way, if you don' take time en learn chillun, dey old en dey ain'\nold; dey fool en dey ain' fool. Yes'um, I tryin to drill dem, Miss\nDavis, but it does take time en a little whip, too. Has to punish dem\nright smart sometimes. I tellin you, dem chillun sho a 'sponsibility.\nDem what put all dem gray hair up dere on my topknot. I tell dis one en\ndat one to set to a certain place till I say to get up en den I'll get\nmy studyin on somethin else en de child, he'll be out yonder--\n\n(Heddie Davis, age 72, a neighbor of Lizzies, comes over to join in the\nconversation).\n\nLizzie--Here come de hoss (horse). Come in, Miss Heddie. Miss Davis\nwants us to sing one of dem old back tunes dis mornin.\n\nHeddie--Well, I is studied up one tune what I been hear de old people\nsing when I wasn' nothin much more den a puppy--Lord a mercy, Miss\nLizzie, dere dem people comin from de trial. Look, dere dey fetchin dat\ngirl to Dr. Graham now. En my Lord, got de poor child's head all wrapped\nup dat way. Dat man, he ought to have he head plucked. He know better\nden to cut dat child so close de senses. Don' know what de matter wid de\npeople nohow.\n\nLizzie--Ain' nothin but de devil, Miss--\n\n(Boy, about 8 years old, comes across the street and hands Lizzie a\nbundle).\n\nPickle--Miss Lizzie, ma say dere your sewin.\n\nLizzie--Thank you, son, thank you a thousand times again. Tell your\nmamma de old hen a scratchin bout out dere in de yard now huntin de nest\nen ain' gwine be no long time fore I can be catchin her a chicken to put\nin de pot. Yes, Lord, I got to start savin dem egg dis very day for de\nsettin. (Lizzie turns to her visitor on the porch and continues her\nconversation). Miss Rosa, she does do all my sewin for me en I generally\ngives her eggs for her kindness. I sorry dere so much of huntin egg de\nsame day.\n\n(Little boy, Pickle, looks disappointed and continues to hang around).\n\nBertha Lee--Aun' Izzie, sing somethin.\n\nLizzie--You want me to sing so bad, sugar, en I ain' know nothin\nneither. Heddie, turn me one.\n\nHeddie--Gwine on en spill dat one yourself what you been tell me bout de\nother mornin en quit your pickin on me.\n\nLizzie--Well, I tryin to get myself together, but dere so much of\ntravelin en so much of chillun, I can' collect--\n\nAlfred--Aun' Izzie, can I go to whe' Jerry gone?\n\nLizzie--No, boy, you know I ain' got no mind to let you go runnin off\ndat way. (Lizzie calls to Mammie in the room). Mammie, look dere to de\nclock. I gettin in a fidget to get some of dese chillun way from here.\n\n(Pickle still hangs around).\n\nLizzie--Joseph, come here.\n\nJoseph--Un-uh.\n\nLizzie--Boy, don' you grunt at me dat way. Come here, I say. Go dere in\nde chicken house en hunt dat one egg en give it to Pickle to carry to he\nmamma.--Got to scatter dese chillun way from here--\n\nJoseph--Here de egg, Aun' Izzie.\n\nLizzie--Fetch it dere to Pickle den. Boy, tell your mamma I sorry I ain'\nhad no egg to send her 'cept just dat one nest egg. Tell her, when she\nbuss dat egg, she better look right sharp en see is de hen ain' got it\nnoways addle like cause--\n\nBertha Lee--Aun' Izzie, how my nose is?\n\nLizzie--Look bad. Gwine on in dere en clean your face up. I know you\nain' gwine to school wid all dem crumbs stuck bout on your mouth.\nJoseph, gwine on in de house dere en put you on some more clothes. Gwine\non in dere, I say. Don' stand dere on de street en strip.\n\nHeddie--No, boy, don' pull off in no public.\n\nBertha Lee--Aun' Izzie, I gwine carry my bread to school wid me.\n\nLizzie--Hunt you a paper den. You can' go dere to school wid no handful\nof bread makin all dem chillun start mouthin round you. Joseph, get me a\npaper to put dis here child's bread in.\n\nJoseph--Here, Bertha Lee. Here de paper.\n\nLizzie--Lord, Miss Davis, it a time. I tell you de truth, honey, dis\nhere 'sponsibility got me tied both hand en foot. Ain' no rest nowhe'. I\nhates it you come here en ain' gettin nothin what you been aimin to\ncatch. I gwine be ready toreckly though. Let me get dese chillun in de\nroad en dem songs gwine start travelin out my head faster den lightnin--\n\nBertha Lee--Aun' Izzie, make Joseph come on.\n\nLizzie--Joseph, get in dat road dere side Bertha Lee. Now, you chillun\nmake your tracks dere to school straight as you can go en if you stop\ndere to dat lady house en get a pecan, I gwine whip you hard as I can.\n\nJoseph and Bertha Lee--Good-bye Possum, good-bye June, good-bye Alfred.\n\nPossum, June, Alfred--Good-bye Joseph, good-bye Bertha Lee.\n\nLizzie--Here dat tune come buzzin now, Miss Davis. Is you got dis one?\n\n\n Sunday Mornin Band!\n\n \"Oh, my sister,\n How you walk on de cross?\n Sunday mornin band!\n Oh, your feet might slip\n En your soul get lost.\n Sunday mornin band!\n Oh, what band,\n Oh, what band,\n Do you belong?\n What band! What band!\n Sunday mornin band!\"\n\nHeddie--Sis, you is done took de one I been how. I been expectin you was\ncomin out wid one of dem old time reels you used to be a singin en a\njiggin bout all de time.\n\nLizzie--Oh, I been know a heap of dem reels. Hoped sing dem behind de\nold folks back many a day cause us chillun wasn' never allowed to sing\nreels in dem days. See, old back people was more religious den dey is\nnow. Yes, mam, dey been know what spell somethin in dat day en time.\nWhen dey would speak den, dey meant somethin, I tell you. People does\njust go through de motion dese days en don' have no mind to mean what\ndey talk. No, child, us didn' dar'sen to let us parents hear us sing no\nreels den. What dem old people didn' quarrel out us, dey whip out us. My\nfather never wouldn' let we chillun go to no frolics, but us would\nlisten from de house en catch what us could. I used to could turn a heap\nof dem reels, too, but he was so tight on us till everything bout left\nme. Lord, Heddie, give me a thought. You is de jiggin hoss. Hope me out,\nHeddie, hope me out.\n\n(Heddie begins song and Lizzie joins in and finishes it).\n\n \"The blackest nigger I ever did see,\n He come a runnin down from Tennessee,\n His eye was red en his gum was blue,\n En God a mighty struck him,\n En his shirt tail flew.\n Meet me at de crossroads,\n For I'm gwine join de band.\n Um-huh! Um-huh! Um-huh!\"\n\nLizzie--Great Lord a mercy, Miss Davis, dem kind of tune, dem sinful en\nwicked songs, dey what I used to turn fore I been big enough to know\nwhat been in dem. No, honey, I thank de good Lord to point me way from\nall dat foolishness en wickedness en I ain' gwine back to it neither.\n\n \"Lord, I know dat my time ain' long,\n Oh, de bells keep a ringin,\n Somebody is a dying,\n Lord, I know dat my time ain' long.\n (Repeat three times)\n Lord, I know dat my time ain' long,\n Oh, de hammer keep a knockin,\n Keep a knockin on somebody coffin,\n Lord, I know dat my time ain' long.\"\n (Repeat three times).\n\nLizzie--Lord, I sho know my time ain' long. De Lord say de way of de\nrighteous prevaileth to eternal life en I know I right, people. Lord, I\nknow I right. 'Sponsibility or no 'sponsibility, Lord, I seekin de\nKingdom.\n\n Source: Lizzie Davis, colored, 70-80 years, Marion, S. C.\n Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Marion, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Code No.\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, December 13, 1937\n No. Words ----\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n LIZZIE DAVIS\n Ex-Slave, Age 70 to 80\n\n\n\"No, mam, I couldn' exactly tell you how old I is cause my father, he\nbeen dead over 20 years en when us had a burnin out dere to Georgetown,\nPa's Bible was destroyed den. Cose I don' remember myself, say, slavery\ntime, but I can tell dat what I is hear de olden people talk bout been\ngwine on in dat day en time. No, mam, I want to suggest to you de best I\ncan cause I might have to go back up yonder en tell it to be justified\nsome of dese days.\"\n\n\"Oh, I been know your father en your grandfather en all of dem. Bless\nmercy, child, I don' want to tell you nothin, but what to please you.\nLord, I glad to see your face. It look so lovin en pleasin, just so as I\nis always know you. Look like dere not a wave of trouble is ever roll\n'cross your peaceful bosom.\"\n\n\"Now, like I speak to you, I don' know rightly bout my age, but I can\ntell you when dat shake come here, I been a missie girl. Oh, my Lord, I\nbeen just as proud en crazy in dem days. Wasn' thinkin nothin bout dat\ndese dark days was headin here. Yes, mam, I is always been afflicted\never since I been twelve years old, so dey tell me. You see, dat muscle\nright back dere in my foot, it grow crooked just like a hook. De doctor,\nhe say dat if dey had kept me movin bout, it wouldn' been grow dat way.\nBut my poor old mammy, she die while us was livin down dere to old man\nFoster Brown's plantation en dere won' no other hand gwine trouble dey\nway no time to lift me up. Oh, my mammy, she been name Katie Brown cause\nmy parents, dey belonged to de old man Foster Brown in dey slavery day.\nDat how-come I been raise up a country child dere on Mr. Brown's\nplantation. Another thing, like as you might be a noticin, I ain' never\nbeen married neither. No, mam, I ain' never been married cause I is\nalways been use a stick in walkin in my early days en never didn' nobody\nwant me. Yes, mam, I know I every bit of 70 or gwine on 80 years old to\nmy mind en I think it a blessin de Lord preserve me dis long to de\nworld. Cose I often wonders why de good Massa keep me here en take dem\nwhat able to work for demselves.\"\n\n\"Yes, honey, wid God harness on me, I come here to dis town a grown\nwoman to live en I been livin right here by myself in dis same house\nnear bout 20 years. Cose dere a little 12-year-old country girl dat\nstays here wid me while de school be gwine on so as to get some learnin.\nYes'um, I pays $2.00 every month for dis here room en it ain' worth\nnothin to speak bout. Pap Scott's daughter stay in dat other room over\ndere. No, mam, dere ain' but just dese two rooms to de house. You, see,\nmy buildin does leak en I has a big time some of dese days. See here,\nchild, I has dis piece of oilcloth cross my bed en when it rains on a\nnight, I sleeps in dat chair over dere en lets it drop on de oilcloth.\nDen when it comes a storm, my Lord, dere such a racket! I be settin here\nlookin for dat top up dere to be tumblin down on me de next crack en\nseems like it does give me such a misery in my head. Yes, mam, dat\nmisery does strike me every time I hear tell bout dere a darkness in de\ncloud.\"\n\n\"Well, drawed up as I is, I ain' able to get no work worth much to speak\nbout dese days. It dis way, child, don' nobody like to see no old ugly\ncrooked up creature like me round bout whe' dey be no time. Cose I sets\nhere en does a washin now en den whe' de people gets push up, but don'\nget no regular work. Now, dem people over dere, I does dey washin\nmostly, but dey don' never be noways particular en stylish like en I\ndon' have nothin much to worry wid. See, de lady, she don' go bout\nnowhe' much.\"\n\n\"Oh, Lord, dere my stove right dere, I say. Yes, mam, I cooks right here\nin de fireplace all de time. I got dat pot on dere wid some turnips a\nboilin now en it gettin on bout time I be mixin up dat bread, too, fore\ndat child be comin home from school hungry as a louse. I say, I got dis\nhere old black iron spider en dis here iron griddle, too, what I does my\nbakin on cause you see, I come from way back yonder. Dem what de olden\npeople used to cook on fore stoves ever been come here. Yes, mam, de\nspider got three legs dat it sets on en de griddle, dat what I makes\ndese little thin kind of hoecake on. See, when I wants to bake in de\nspider, I heaps my coals up in a pile dat way so as to set de spider on\ndem en pours de batter in de spider en puts de lid on. Den I rakes me up\nanother batch of coals en covers de lid over wid dem. Do dat to make it\nget done on de top. Yes, mam, dat de kind of a spider dat de people\nused to cook dey cake in. Now, when I has a mind to cook some turnips or\nsome collards, I makes dis here boil bread. Honey, dat somethin to talk\nbout eatin wid dem turnips. Ain' no trouble to mind it neither. First, I\njust washes my hands right clean like en takes en mixes up my meal en\nwater together wid my hand till I gets a right stiff dough. Den I\npinches off a piece de dough bout big as a goose egg en flattens it out\nwid my hand en drops it in de pot wid de greens. Calls dat boil\ndumplings. I think bout I got a mind dat I gwine cook some of dem in dat\nturnip pot directly, too. No, mam, I don' never eat dinner till it come\nbout time for de little girl to be expectin to be from school. Oh, my\nblessed, dem olden people sho know how to cook in dem days. Never didn'\nhear speak bout de cookin upsettin de people in dat day en time like it\nsets de people in a misery dese days. Dat how-come, I say, I ain' noways\nailin in de inside cause it be dat I lives de olden way. Yes, child, de\nslavery people sho had de hand to cook. Dere ain' never been nothin cook\nnowhe' dat could satisfy a cravin like dat ash cake dat de people used\nto cook way back dere, I say. Oh, dey would mix up a batter just like\ndey was gwine make a hoecake en wrap it all up in oak leaves or a piece\nof dis here heavy brown paper en lay it in de hot ashes. Den dey would\nrake some more hot ashes all over de top of it. Yes'um, de dampness out\nde hoecake would keep de wrappin wet en when it would get done, de paper\nwould peel right off it. I tell you, honey, I mighty glad I been come\nalong in dat day en time. Mighty thankful I been a child of de olden\nways.\"\n\n\"Yes, child, de people what been raise de slavery way, dey been have a\nheap of curious notions en some of dem was good, I say. Yes, mam, dere\none sign dat I remembers bout en I follows dat up right sharp dese days.\nI sho watches dat closely. Say, somebody have a mouthful of rations en\nsneeze, it a sign of death. I finds dat to be very true to speak bout.\nYes'um, I notices dat a good one, Miss Davis.\"\n\n\"Den I got another one comin. Always say, when you see bout a dozen\nbuzzards moesin (flying) round a house en den dey break off en make a\nstraight shoot for a graveyard, dere somebody out dat house gwine be\nbury dere soon. Cose dat what I hear talk bout, but I ain' watched dat\nso much.\"\n\n\"No, mam, dat ain' half de signs what de olden people used to have cause\ndat all what dey know to tell dem what to do en what was gwine happen.\nDem what was wise, dey followed dem signs closely, too. Yes, you come\nback another time, child, en I'll see can I scratch up a heap of dem\nother sign to tell you. When I gets to talkin to you bout old times, my\nmind, it just gets to wanderin over dem old fields whe' I run bout as a\nlittle small child en I can' half remember nothin to speak to you bout.\"\n\n Source: Lizzie Davis, colored, Marion, S. C.--Age 70 to 80.\n Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Dec., 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Code No.\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, December 21, 1937\n No. Words ----\n Reduced from ---- words\n Rewritten by ----\n\n LIZZIE DAVIS\n Ex-Slave, Age ----\n\n\n\"My parents, dey was sho raise in de South. Been come up on de old man\nFoster Brown's plantation. Ain' you know whe' Mr. Foster Brown used to\nlive? Yes, mam, down dere in dat grove of pecans dat you see settin side\nde road, when you be gwine down next to Centenary. I remember, I hear my\nfather tell bout dat his mammy was sold right here to dis courthouse, on\ndat big public square up dere, en say dat de man set her up in de wagon\nen took her to Georgetown wid him. Sold her right dere on de block. Oh,\nI hear dem talkin bout de sellin block plenty times. Pa say, when he see\ndem carry his mammy off from dere, it make he heart swell in his breast.\n\n\"Yes'um, I hear my father talk bout how dey would shoot de great big\nbomb guns in slavery time. Seems like, he say dat de shootin fuss been\ncome from Fort Sumter. Oh, my Lord, I hear talk dat de people could hear\ndem guns roarin all bout dis here country. I know dat word been true\ncause I hear my parents en de olden people speak bout dat right dere\nfore we chillun. Say, when dey would feel dat rumblin noise, de people\nwould be so scared. Didn' know what was gwine happen. Cose I speak bout\nwhat I catch cause de olden people never didn' allow dey chillun to set\nen hear dem talk no time. No, mam, de olden people was mighty careful of\nde words dey let slip dey lips.\n\n\"Oh, we chillun would have de most fun dere ever was romancin (roaming)\ndem woods in dat day en time. I used to think it was de nicest thing dat\nI been know bout to go down in de woods side one of dem shady branch en\nget a cup of right cool water to drink out de stream. I tell you, I\nthought dat was de sweetest water I is ever swallowed. Den we chillun\nused to go out in de woods wid de crowd en get dese big oak leaves en\nhickory leaves en make hats. Would use dese here long pine needles en\nthorns for de pins dat we would pick up somewhe' dere in de woods. En we\nwould dress de hats wid all kind of wild flowers en moss dat we been\nfind scatter bout in de woods, too. Oh, yes'um, we thought dey was de\nprettiest kind of bonnets. Den we would get some of dese green saplin\nout de woods often times to make us a ridin horse wid en would cut down\na good size pine another time en make a flyin mare to ride on. Yes, mam,\ndat what we would call it. Well, when we would have a mind to make one\nof dem flyin mare, we chillun would slip a ax to de woods wid us en chop\ndown a nice little pine tree, so as dere would be a good big stump left\nin de ground. Den we would chisel de top of de stump down all round de\nedges till we had us a right sharp peg settin up in de middle of de\nstump. After dat was fixed, we would cut us another pole a little bit\nsmaller den dat one en bore a hole in de middle of it to make it set\ndown on dat peg. Oh, my Lord, one of us chillun would get on dis end en\ndere another one would get on de other end en us chillun would give dem\na shove dat would send dem flyin round fast as I could say\nmighty-me-a-life. My blessed a mercy, child, it would most bout knock de\nsense out dem what been on dere. Yes, mam, everybody would be crazy to\nride on de flyin mare. All de neighbor's chillun would gather up en go\nin de woods en jump en shout bout which one turn come to ride next. I\ntellin you, dem was big pleasures us had in dat day en time en dey never\ncost nobody nothin neither.\"\n\n\"Well, Mr. Brown, he was mighty good to his colored people, so I hear my\nparents say. Would allow all his niggers to go to de white people church\nto preachin every Sunday, Cose my father, he was de carriage driver en\nhe would have task to drive de white folks to church on a Sunday.\nYes'um, dem what been belong to Mr. Brown, dey had dey own benches to\nset on right up dere in de gallery to de white people church, but I hear\ntalk dat some of dem other white people round bout dere never wouldn'\nlet dey colored people see inside dey church no time. Lord, I talk bout\nhow de people bless wid privilege to go to church like dey want to in\ndis day en time en don' have de mind to serve de Lord like dey ought to\nno time. Cose dere a man comes here every Sunday mornin in a car en\ntakes me out to church. Ain' no kin to me neither. He late sometimes en\nde preacher be bout out wid de sermon, but I goes anyhow en gets all I\ncan. Look like de Lord bless me somehow, cripple up as I is, I say.\"\n\n\"De shake! Oh, I remember it well cause I been a grown girl den.\nEverybody thought it was de Jedgment en all de people was runnin out en\na hollerin. I thought it was de last myself en I livin here to tell de\npeople, I was sho scared. I been out to de well bout 12 o'clock de next\nday en I could see de water in de well just a quiverin. Lord, Lord, dat\nwater tremble bout four weeks after dat. Such a hollerin en a prayin as\nde people had bout dat shake. No'um I was livin down dere to Tabernacle\nden en dere wasn' none of de houses round us destroyed. No, child, won'\nno harm done nowhe' dat I knows of only as a heap of de people been so\nscared, dey never didn' grow no more.\"\n\n\"Yes'um, I think bout here de other night dat I had make you a promise\nto fetch you up some of dem signs de olden people used to put faith in.\nDere one sign bout if you hear a dog howl or a cow low round your house\non a night, it a pretty good sign you gwine lose somebody out dat house.\nI finds dat to be a mighty true sign cause I notices it very closely.\"\n\n\"Den dey used to say, too, if you get up in de mornin feelin in a good\nhumor, de devil sho gwine get you fore night fall dat same day. Cose I\ndon' pay so much attention to dat. If I get up feelin like singin, I has\nto sing cause it my time to sing, I say.\"\n\n\"Let me see, dere another one of dem omen dat I had shake up in my mind\nto tell you. Say, if you see a ground mole rootin round your house, it\nwon' be long fore you gwine move from dat place. But I don' never see\nno ground moles hardly dese days. Don' think dey worries nobody much.\"\n\n\"I recollects, too, way back yonder de people used to say, if you see de\nsmoke comin out de chimney en turn down en flatten out on de ground, it\na sign of rain in a few days.\"\n\n\"Yes, mam, I think bout dis one more. If you dream bout you be travelin\nen come to a old rotten down buildin, it a sign of a old person death.\nDon' say whe' it a man or a woman, but it a sho sign dat a old person\ngwine die.\"\n\n\"Den people what lives in de country believes, if a fox comes round a\nhouse barkin en a scratchin, it a sign dey gwine lose somebody out dey\nfamily. Yes'um, de fox just comes right out de woods up to de yard en\nbarks. You see, a dog won' never run a fox dat comes bout dem barkin.\nNo, mam, when de dog hear dat, he just stands right under de house en\ngrowls at de fox. I know dat be a true sign cause us tried dat one.\"\n\n\"Now, I got another one of dem thought comin. Yes, my Lord, I hear talk\ndat if you get de broom en sweep your house out fore sunrise, you would\nsweep your friends out right wid de trash. Dat used to be a big sign wid\nde people, too. En it bad luck to take up ashes after de sun go down,\ndey say. Yes, I know bout plenty people won' do dat today.\"\n\n\"Well, honey, seems like when I calls back, de people in a worser fix\nden when I used to get 25 cents a day. Used to could take dat en go to a\ncountry store en get a decent dress to wear to church. Sell peck of us\ncorn en get it in trade. Didn' never pay more den 50 cents for a load of\nwood in dem days en I remembers just as good eggs been sell for 10 cents\na dozen en 15 cents bout Christmas time. Cose I ain' exactly decided\nwhat to speak bout de times cause it dis way to my mind. De people, dey\nhave a better privilege dis day en time, but dey don' appreciate nothin\nlike dey did back in my dark days. Yes, mam, de people was more thankful\nto man en God den dey is dese days. Dat my belief bout de way de world\nturnin, I say.\"\n\n Source: Lizzie Davis, colored, age between 70 and 80, Marion,\n S. C.\n Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Dec., 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Project #1855\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n LOUISA DAVIS\n EX-SLAVE 106 YEARS OLD.\n\n\n\"Well, well, well! You knows my white folks on Jackson Creek, up in\nFairfield! I's mighty glad of dat, and glad to see you. My white folks\ncome to see me pretty often, though they lives way up dere. You wants to\nwrite me up? Well, I'll tell you all I recollect, and what I don't tell\nyou, my daughter and de white folks can put in de other 'gredients. Take\ndis armchair and git dat smokin' ash tray; lay it on de window sill by\nyou and make yourself comfortable and go ahead.\"\n\n\"I was born in de Catawba River section. My grandpappy was a full blood\nIndian; my pappy a half Indian; my mother, coal black woman. Just who I\nb'long to when a baby? I'll leave dat for de white folks to tell, but\nold Marster Jim Lemon buy us all; pappy, mammy, and three chillun: Jake,\nSophie, and me. De white folks I fust b'long to refuse to sell 'less\nMarse Jim buy de whole family; dat was clever, wasn't it? Dis old Louisa\nmust of come from good stock, all de way 'long from de beginnin', and I\nis sho' proud of dat.\"\n\n\"When he buy us, Marse Jim take us to his place on Little River nigh\nclean cross de county. In de course of time us fell to Marse Jim's son,\nJohn, and his wife, Miss Mary. I was a grown woman then and nursed their\nfust baby, Marse Robert. I see dat baby grow to be a man and 'lected to\nlegislature, and stand up in dat Capitol over yonder cross de river and\ntell them de Law and how they should act, I did. They say I was a pretty\ngal, then, face shiny lak a ginger cake, and hair straight and black as\na crow, and I ain't so bad to look at now, Marse Willie says.\"\n\n\"My pappy rise to be foreman on de place and was much trusted, but he\nplowed and worked just de same, mammy say maybe harder.\"\n\n\"Then one springtime de flowers git be blooming, de hens to cackling,\nand de guineas to patarocking. Sam come along when I was out in de yard\nwid de baby. He fust talk to de baby, and I asked him if de baby wasn't\npretty. He say, 'Yes, but not as pretty as you is, Louisa.' I looks at\nSam, and dat kind of foolishness wind up in a weddin'. De white folks\nallowed us to be married on de back piazza, and Reverend Boggs performed\nde ceremony.\"\n\n\"My husband was a slave of de Sloans and didn't get to see me often as\nhe wanted to; and of course, as de housemaid then, dere was times I\ncouldn't meet him, clandestine like he want me. Us had some grief over\ndat, but he got a pass twice a week from his marster, Marse Tommie\nSloan, to come to see me. Bold as Sam git to be, in after years ridin'\nwid a red shirt long side of General Bratton in '76, dat nigger was\ntimid as a rabbit wid me when us fust git married. Shucks, let's talk\n'bout somthing else. Sam was a field hand and drive de wagon way to\nCharleston once a year wid cotton, and always bring back something\npretty for me.\"\n\n\"When de war come on, Sam went wid young Marster Tom Sloan as bodyguard,\nand attended to him, and learned to steal chickens, geese, and turkeys\nfor his young marster, just to tell 'bout it. He dead now; and what I\nblames de white folks for, they never would give him a pension, though\nhe spend so much of his time and labor in their service. I ain't bearin'\ndown on my kind of white folks, for I'd jump wid joy if I could just git\nback into slavery and have de same white folks to serve and be wid them,\nday in and day out.\"\n\n\"Once a week I see de farm hands git rations at de smoke house, but dat\ndidn't concern me. I was a housemaid and my mammy run de kitchen, and us\ngot de same meals as my marster's folks did.\"\n\n\"Yas sir; I got 'possum. Know how to cook him now. Put him in a pot and\nparboil him, then put him in a oven wid lots of lard or fat-back, and\nthen bake him wid yaller yam potatoes, flanked round and round, and then\nwash him down wid locust and persimmon beer followed by a piece of\npumpkin pie. Dat make de bestest meal I 'members in slavery days.\"\n\n\"Us got fish out of Little River nigh every Saturday, and they went good\nSunday morning. Us had Saturday evenin's, dat is, de farm hands did, and\nthen I got to go to see Sam some Sundays. His folks, de Sloans, give us\na weddin' dinner on Sunday after us was married, and they sho' did tease\nSam dat day.\"\n\n\"Like all rich buckra, de Lemons had hogs a plenty, big flock of sheep,\ncotton gin, slaves to card, slaves to spin, and slaves to weave. Us was\nwell clothed and fed and 'tended to when sick. They was concerned 'bout\nour soul's salvation. Us went to church, learn de catechism; they was\nPresbyterians, and read de Bible to us. But I went wid Sam after\nfreedom. He took de name of Davis, and I jined de Methodist Church and\nwas baptized Louisa Davis.\"\n\n\"Patroller, you ask me? 'Spect I do 'member them. Wasn't I a goodlookin'\nwoman? Didn't Sam want to see me more than twice a week? Wouldn't he\nrisk it widout de pass some time? Sure he did. De patrollers got after\nand run Sam many a time.\"\n\n\"After de war my pappy went to Florida. He look just like a Indian, hair\nand all, bushy head, straight and young lookin' wid no beard. We never\nheard from him since.\"\n\n\"De slaves wash de family clothes on Saturday and then rested after\ndoin' dat. Us had a good time Christmas; every slave ketch white folks\nwid a holler, 'Christmas gift, Marster' and they holler it to each\nother. Us all hung our stockin's all 'bout de Big House, and then dere\nwould be sumpin' in dere next mornin'. Lord, wasn't them good times!\"\n\n\"Now how is it dese days? Young triflin' nigger boys and gals lyin'\n'round puffin' cigarets, carryin' whiskey 'round wid them, and gittin'\nin jail on Christmas, grievin' de Lord and their pappies, and all sich\nthings. OH! De risin' generation and de future! What is it comin' to? I\njust don't know, but dere is comin' a time to all them.\"\n\n\"I sho' like to dance when I was younger. De fiddlers was Henry Copley\nand Buck Manigault; and if anybody 'round here could make a fiddle ring\nlike Buck could, wouldn't surprise me none if my heart wouldn't cry out\nto my legs, 'Fust lady to de right and cheat or swing as you like, and\non to de right'.\"\n\n\"Stop dat laughin'. De Indian blood in me have held me up over a hundred\nyears, and de music might make me young again.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, us had ghost stories, make your hair stand on end, and us put\niron in de fire when us hear screech owl, and put dream book under bed\nto keep off bad dreams.\"\n\n\"When de yankees come they took off all they couldn't eat or burn, but\ndon't let's talk 'bout dat. Maybe if our folks had beat them and git up\ninto dere country our folks would of done just like they did. Who\nknows?\"\n\n\"You see dis new house, de flower pots, de dog out yonder, de cat in de\nsun lyin' in de chair on de porch, de seven tubs under de shed, de two\nbig wash pots, you see de pictures hangin' round de wall, de nice beds,\nall dese things is de blessin's of de Lord through President Roosevelt.\nMy grandson, Pinckney, is a World War man, and he got in de CCC Camp,\nstill in it in North Carolina. When he got his bonus, he come down, and\nsay, 'Grandma, you too old to walk, supposin' I git you a automobile?\"\nI allow, 'Son, de Indian blood rather make me want a house.' Then us\nlaugh. 'Well,' he say, 'Dis money I has and am continuin' to make, I\nwants you and mama to enjoy it.' Then he laugh fit to kill heself. Then\nI say, 'I been dreamin' of a tepee all our own, all my lifetime; buy us\na lot over in Sugartown in New Brookland, and make a home of happiness\nfor your ma, me and you'.\"\n\n\"And dis is de tepee you settin' in today. I feel like he's a young\nwarrior, loyal and brave, off in de forests workin' for his chief, Mr.\nRoosevelt, and dat his dreams are 'bout me maybe some night wid de winds\nblowin' over dat three C camp where he is.\"\n\n\n\n Project 1885 -1-\n District #4\n Spartanburg, S. C.\n May 29, 1937\n\n FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was a slave of Bill Davis who lived at \"Rich Hill\", near Indian\nCreek, in Newberry County, S. C. I was born about 1856, I reckon. My\ndaddy was Ivasum Davis and my mammy was Rhody Davis. Marse Bill was a\ngood master, lived in a big house, give us a good place to live and\nplenty to eat. He hardly ever whipped us, and was never cruel to us. He\ndidn't let his overseer whip us, and never hit a man.\n\n\"Aw, we had good eats den. Wish I has some of dem old ash-cakes now\nwhich was cooked in de brick oven or in de ashes in de fireplace. My\nmistress had a big garden, and give us something to eat out of it. We\nused to go hunting, and killed possums, rabbit, squirrels, and birds.\n\n\"We had home-made clothes 'till I was big boy. Dey was made from card\nand spin wheels.\n\n\"Our work was light; we got up at sun-up at blowing of de horn and\nworked till sundown. Sometimes we worked on Saturday afternoons when we\nhad to. On Saturday nights we had frolics--men and women. Some women\nwould wash their clothes on Saturday afternoons. Den at night we have\nprayer meetings.\n\n\"We had no church on our plantation, not till after freedom, but we\nlearned to read and write and spell.\n\n\"De padderrolers didn't bother us; our master always give us a pass when\nwe go anywhere.\n\n\"On Christmas Day master always give big dinners for slaves, and on New\nYear we had a holiday.\n\n\"I married Lila Davis at de Baptist Church in Newberry.\n\n\"When our slaves got sick we sent for de doctor. Some of de old folks in\nthe neighborhood believed in giving root-herb tea or tea made from\ncherry barks or peach leaves.\n\n\"When freedom come de master told us we was free and could go but if we\nwanted to stay on with him, we could stay. We stayed with him for two\nyears and worked by day wages.\n\n\"The Ku Klux was dere. I heard old folks talk about dem. Dey had white\nsheets over their heads and white caps on their heads.\n\n\"The Yankees went through our place and stole cattle.\n\n\"I thought slavery was all right, 'cause I had a good time. I had a good\nmaster.\n\n\"I joined the church when I was 21 years old because I thought I'd live\nbetter. I think all ought to join the church.\"\n\n Source: Wallace Davis (88), Newberry, S. C.; interviewer: G. Leland\n Summer, Newberry, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Folklore\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n Oct. 15, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES OF EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I live in a little two-room house beyond Helena where I work a little\npatch of land which I rent. I don't own anything. I make a living\nworking de land.\n\n\"I was born on Indian Creek in Newberry County, S. C. about 1856. My\nmammy was Rhody Davis and my pa was Ivasum Davis. We belonged in slavery\nto Bill Davis. He lived at de place called \"Rich Hill\". De old house is\ndone tore down, but young Riser now lives in de new house on de place.\n\n\"Our master was good to us, but whipped us a little sometimes. He would\nnot allow his overseer to whip any of us. He give us enough to eat and a\nfair place to live in. We didn't want fer anything. Dey had plenty to\neat on de farm, and sure had good eatings. Dere was a brick oven which\ncould cook good bread and cakes. We had a big garden which de mistress\nlooked after, and she had plenty from it which she shared wid de slaves.\n\n\"De old spinning wheel was used lots of times and dey made all de\nclothes everybody on de place wore.\n\n\"We didn't have no church to go to, but dey sometimes made some slaves\ngo to white folks churches where dey set on de back seats. We didn't\nhave schools and couldn't learn to read and write till after freedom\ncome; den some niggers learned at de brush arbors.\n\n\"Befo' freedom de patrollers marched up and down de road but didn't\nbother us. Our master always give us a pass when we went somewhere. On\nChristmas he give us big dinners.\n\n\"I married Lilla Davis at de white folks' Baptist church in Newberry.\n\n\"When slaves got sick some of dem took tree barks and made teas to\ndrink, and some made tea from root herbs. We had doctors, too, but dey\nmade lots of deir medicine from de barks and herbs.\n\n\"I can't remember much what de Ku Klux did, but heard about dem. Just\nafter de war de Yankees marched through our place and stole some cattle\nand run away wid dem. In some places dey burned down de barns and gin\nhouses.\n\n\"I had a good master and always had plenty to eat, so I thought slavery\nwas all right. We didn't have nothing of any kind to worry about.\n\n\"I don't know nothing much about Abe Lincoln or Jefferson Davis.\"\n\n Source: Wallace Davis (N. 88), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. (9/15/37).\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, August 20, 1937\n\n WILLIAM HENRY DAVIS\n Ex-Slave, 72 Years\n\n\n\"I born de first day of March in 1865 cause de white folks raise me\nmostly en dat how-come I know how old I ought to say I is. My father\nbelong to de old man Jackie Davis, dat live not so far from Tabernacle,\nen den he fall to he son, Mr. William J. Davis. Dat whe' I was raise. My\ngrandfather, old man Caesar, live dere too.\"\n\n\"I never been treated exactly as de other plantation peoples was as it\njust like I tellin you, I be round de white folks mostly. My mamma, she\ndo all de cooking to de big house en dere be a division in de Missus\nkitchen for de cook en she chillun to stay in. Sometimes my Massa make\nmy mamma feed all de small plantation chillun dere to de kitchen from de\ntable. Dey want de chillun to hurry en grow en dat de reason dey give em\ngood attention at de house. Dey give us milk en clabber en corn bread to\neat mostly en give us fritters some of de time. Dat was fried wheat\nbread what some people call pancakes. Used to give me job to mind de\ncows en de calves when dey was put to grazing.\"\n\n\"All de other colored peoples live in de nigger quarter up on de hill.\nJust like de white people house here, de colored people house all be in\nrow pretty much off from de big house. Oh, de people was meant to work\nin dat day en time. De white folks teach em en show em what dey look for\nem to do. Den if dey didn' do it like dey tell em do it, dey chastise\nem.\"\n\n\"It just like I tellin you, de people fare wid abundance of everything\nin dem days. Destroy much meat in one month den as de people gets hold\nof in whole year dese days. It was just dis way, everybody know to have\nfence round bout dey plantation den en de hogs could run anywhe'. All de\nfield land was fence en de woods was for de run of de stock. Dey mark em\nen some of de time, dey hear tell of stock 10 mile away. Know em by de\nbrand.\"\n\n\"Peoples didn' have heap of all kind of things dat dey have dese days,\nbut somehow it look like dey have a knack of gettin along better wid\nwhat dey have den. Didn' have no stoves to cook on in dem days. Cook in\nclay oven en on de fireplace. Make up fire en when it die down, dey put\ntatoes (potatoes) in de oven en let em stay dere all night. My God, won'\nnothin no better den dem oven tatoes was. Some of de time, dey have wire\nin de chimney wid de pots hanging on dat. Folks used to make up a cake\nof corn bread en pat it on de hearth en when de fire burn right low, dey\ncover de cake all up in pile of ashes. When it get done, it be brown\nthrough de ashes en dey take it out en wash en rub all de ashes off it.\nDen it was ready to eat. Dat what dey call ash cake. Just seem like what\nde peoples used to cook be sweeter eatin den what dey cooks dis day en\ntime.\"\n\n\"Oh, I beat rice many a day. Yes'um, beat rice many a day for my\ngrandmother en my mamma too. Had a mortar en a pestle dat beat rice\nwid. Dey take big tree en saw log off en set it up just like a tub. Den\ndey hollow it out in de middle en take pestle dat have block on both it\nend en beat rice in dat mortar. Beat it long time en take it out en fan\nit en den put it back. De last time it put back, tear off some shucks en\nput in dere to get de red part of de rice out en make it white. Ain'\nnobody never been born can tell you more bout dem pestles en mortars den\nWilliam Henry Davis know.\"\n\n\"Yes'um, used to go to corn shuckings en rye thrashings en pea\nthrashings plenty times. Oh, dey sing en have music en have big pot\ncookin out in de yard wid plenty rice en fresh meat for everybody. Dere\nbe so many people some of de time, dey had to have two or three pots.\nDen dey have dem log rollings to clean up de land en when dey would get\nto rollin dem heavy logs, dey give de men a little drink of whiskey to\nrevive em, but dey gage how much dey give em. O Lord, we had tough time\nden. After dey get through wid all de work, dey would eat supper den.\nGive us rice en corn bread en fresh meat en coffee en sweet tatoe pone.\nMy Lord, dat sweet tatoe pone was de thing in dem days. Missie, you ain'\nnever eat no pone bread? Dey take piece of tin en drive nails through it\nen grate de raw tatoes on dat. Den dey take a little flour en hot water\nen molasses en mix up in dem raw tatoes en bake it in de oven on de\nfireplace. Have lid to oven en put fire under de bottom of it en on de\ntop to get it right done. Some of de time, dey put a little ginger in it\nfore it was baked. Cut it in big slices when it get done, but wouldn'\nnever eat it till dey know it was cold. Missie, de older I gets de more\nI does sorrow to go back to dem old constructions dat dey used to have.\"\n\n\"Some of de colored peoples have bresh (brush) shelter whe' dey go to\nchurch in dem days, but all us go to de white folks church. Oh, de\ncolored peoples go in ox carts, but us white folks have teams en\ncarriage to ride in. I recollects Mr. Davis carriage look sorta like a\nhouse wid two big horses to pull it. De family would be in de inside en\nhave seats whe' dey set facing one another. De driver have seat on de\noutside in de front en on de back of de carriage was de place to set de\ntrunks.\"\n\n\"My daddy was de blacksmith for Mr. Jackie Davis en he could make plows\nen hoes en all dem kind of things. He have a circuit dat he go round en\nmend things on other white folks plantations. Some of de time, he bring\nback more den $100.00 to he boss dat he would make. Go all bout in dat\npart of Marion county dat be part of Florence county dose times.\"\n\n\"I hear some peoples say dey knows dere such as ghosts, but I ain' never\nhave no mind in dat line. All I know bout is what my mamma used to tell\nus big chillun when she want us to stay home wid de little chillun en\nmind em. Say dere was Raw Head en Bloody Bones in de woods en if us go\noff, de child might set de house on fire. Such as dat was to make us\nstay home when dey was gone.\"\n\n\"It just dis way, I think freedom a good thing for some people while it\na bad thing for de ones dat don' have a knack to shuffle for dey own\nself. When freedom come, some of de colored people didn' know what\nfreedom was en dey just hang around dey white folks en look to dey Massa\nfor what dey get right on. Wouldn' get off en make nothin for dey own\nself. Dat how-come I think it better for some not to be free cause so\nmuch of worryations ain' good for peoples. Colored peoples never had to\nworry bout nothin in slavery time.\"\n\n Source: William Henry Davis, age 72, ex-slave, Wahee section\n of Marion Co., S. C.\n\n Personal interview, August 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n Aug. 24, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"Sunday, Aug. 1, was my 82nd ~HW: 84th?~] birthday; so I was born in\n1853. De very day I come into de world I do not know, but soon my\nmarster, Starke Sims, begun to train me. Dr. Bill Sims, Marse Stark's\nson, was a doctor when I was born. A younger son was called Hal. When\nHal was a boy he said he was gwine off, and when he got to be a man, dat\nis what he done; yes sirree, he got scattered off.\n\n\"Dr. Bill had done started to doctoring folks befo' I got into dis\nworld. And first thing dat I recollects is how my marster teached me to\naddress him. He addressed me as 'Elias, Johnny Elias'. I had to answer,\n'Sirs', and dat 'S' always had to be dar to please de marster. All of\nhis slaves had to address him de same way. Sometimes we would answer,\n'Sirs Marster'.\n\n\"All de things my marster teached me are still a great help to me. Dis\nyounger generation does not have de quality dat we old niggers has,\nbecause dey refuse to take de teachings of dere parents and de good\nwhite folks. De main thing dat Marse teached his slaves was\nmannerableness. Dat I holds to dis day; 'specially to de white people. I\nallus tries to be mannerable to dem. Often I looks back on dat, but both\nwhite and colored is trying to do away wid dem things. Old training is\nde best, and I cannot fergit my manners. Never does raal folks fergit\ndere raising. Dats what shows up de quality in people. I likes quality\nin everything, and as soon as I sees strangers and hears dem talk and\nlooks at dere action, I can tell how much quality dey got. Dat I sho\ncan. I never is gwine to drap my raising, don't care what de style\ncomes to. Dat's jest one thing dat my race and de white race, too, wants\nto do away wid. Dey don't hold up no manners and no ra'al raising.\n\n\"De school teachers tells de chilluns to say yes and no to me. Dey tells\ndem to say de same thing to white folks. Den dey teaches de chilluns to\nMr. and Miss de own race and to call white folks by dere names widout\nany handle to it. Dat ain't gwine to work, and any niggers dat has\nself-respect jest ain't gwine to call no white folks by dere name. If\nyou doesn't respect other folks, why den other folks ain't gwine to show\nno respect fer you. Why some of my grand chilluns sets up and says 'yes'\nand 'no' to me 'stead of 'yes sir' and 'no sir'. But I is right here to\ntell you dat my own chilluns don't say 'no' and 'yes' to me. I is\nstrived wid dem and dey knows how to answer proper to dere elders and to\nwhite folks. I ain't got no time fer dese school teachers dat tells de\npupils to answer in no sech insulting ways as dat. I likes manners and\nwidout manners folks ain't quality; don't make no diffuns 'bout what\ncolor dey is or how far dey is gone in de reading books. Young'uns\nsaying 'yes' and 'no' is jest plain ugly. It suits me to meet nice\nfolks, and when I finds dat dey ain't got mannerableness about dem, den\nI concludes dat dey jest ain't nice.\n\n\"I gwine to dress up tonight and go to preaching at Mt. Zion. Dey done\nalready started running meeting dar. I used to preach amongst dem at de\nbig meetings, but I is retracting now.\n\n\"My old marse low to us, 'You is free now, yes sir, you is sho free\nniggers now. You is gwine out into de world on your own. Let me tell you\ndis: If you be's mannerable you will allus come out more dan conqueror.'\nI was young den, and I did not know what 'more dan conqueror' meant\nden. I is larn't now what it means. Thank God, I does, fer his telling\nme dat. I lays to de fact dat de reason I is never been in jail is dat I\nallus had manners. Young'uns acts biggety and den dey lands right\nstraight in de first jail dar is.\n\n\"I sho never went to no war, but I worked at de house in de corn field\na-raising corn fer de war hosses. I been in only two states, North and\nSouth Carolina. I travels jest according to common sense: lets other\nfolks be my guide. I met up wid Indians; dey wanted to claim kin wid me,\nbut I wouldn't claim kin wid dem. He tell me bout my high cheeks or\nsomething; den he low something 'bout my nose being long. Dey close\nthinking people, dem Indians is. Dey don't fergit nothing. He say he see\nI is mixed-up, but I never is knowed jest what he was driving at. I told\nhim I was teached from de old generation, but dat dar wasn't narry drop\nof Indian blood in me. Cherokee Creek whar dat old Indian place is. Dey\nhas all kinds of things to sell dat dey makes. I ain't no Indian and I\ndoes not feel dat way, no sir, not narry bit does I feel like I is a\nIndian.\n\n\"My mother died when I was a wee baby. Never is had no brothers or\nsisters. She left me wid her marster dat owned her mother, Kissy Sims.\nMarse Starke helped my granny to raise me. Kissy come from Virginia. Her\nPa let a man buy her and three other chilluns. Marse Starke raised dem\nall up and dats how dey got his name.\n\n\"Dis here man standing here by me is Zack Herndon. We is de oldest\nniggers in Cherokee County dat I knows of. De other old ones is all dead\nnow. Oh, you knows him, does you Zack?\n\n\"Never did so awful much work when I was coming up. Dey was priming me\nand training me. When dey call my name, I allus come. Often I hid myself\nto see de bad niggers whipped. Never had no 'buse in my life. Marse\ndidn't 'low nobody to look at his niggers when dey was being whipped,\nkaise he hated to have to let any of dem be 'bused. Marse Starke sho\nnever whipped no one dat was good. He never let his overseers 'buse\nnobody neither. I does not 'member much 'bout his overseers. One named a\nBriggs, one a Bishop, one a Coleman and Alley Cook was de last one; I\n'members his name best.\n\n\"Marse Starke was a rich man. He had in de Quarter what was know'd as a\nchilluns' house. A nurse stayed in it all de time to care fer all de\nplantation chilluns. My granny 'Kissy' acted as nurse dar some. Aunt\nPeggy and aunt Ciller was two mo'. Ciller was de daughter of a King in\nAfrica, but dat story been traveling ever since she got to dese shores,\nand it still a-gwine. All dese helped to nurse me. Dey fed us on milk,\nplenty of it. We had honey, lasses and lots of good things. When I was a\nlittle bit-a boy I had a big bowl to eat out of. And us chilluns et like\nhogs and got fat. We allus had fine food. My marster give me a biscuit\nsometime from his plate and I wouldn't have tuck 25c fer it. He allus\nput butter in it or ham and gravy. He would say, 'Dat's de doctrine, Be\nkind!' Nobody never got no 'borious beating from our master's hands.\n\n\"I been toiling here on dis earth fer a long time. De Lawd spared me to\nbring up a big race of chilluns myself. We is awful po' and ain't none\nof my chilluns got things as well as I had when my marster give it to\nme. My daughter and grand-daughter lives wid Mr. Nathan Littlejohn. He\nis rich. I stay in de house wid dem. Dey 'vides wid me dat what dey has.\nBut dat ain't much. I has great-great-grand chilluns dat I ain't never\nseed. I have five chilluns living to my knowings. Last time I counted, I\nhad 137 grand and great-grand chilluns. So you see I looks into de\nfourth generation of my own family.\n\n\"Me and Old man Zack went to a hanging one time. Both of us clamed up\ninto a tree so dat we could look down on de transaction from a better\nangle. De man, I means de sheriff, let us go up dar. He let some mo'\nniggers clamb up in de same tree wid us. De man dat was being hung was\ncalled Alf Walker. He was a mulatto and he had done kil't a preacher, so\nyou see dey was hanging him fer his wickedness, sho as you born dey was.\n\n\"While me and Zack up in dat tree a-witnessing dat transaction, peers\nlike we become mo' acquainted wid one another dan we had ever been since\nus know'd one another.\n\n\"Sheriff 'low'd, 'You is got only fifteen minutes to live in. What has\nyou got to say?' Alf got up and talked by giving a lecture to folks\nabout being lawful citizens. He give a lecture also to young folks who\nhe 'low'd dat was not in sech condition as he was. He talking to dem\n'bout obeying de parents and staying at home. Me and Zack exchange\nglances and Zack 'low, 'Alf ain't never stayed at home none since he\nbeen big enough to tramp over de country and he up dar fixing to git his\nneck broke fer his waryness, and trying to tell us good folks young and\nold how us should act. Now ain't he something to be a-telling us what to\ndo.'\n\n\"Finally, Alf had done talked his time out and de sheriff 'low, 'Now you\nis only got two minutes, what does you want?'\n\nAlf hollered, 'Mr. Sheriff, lemme shake hands wid somebody.' Sheriff say\neverybody dat wishes to may shake his hand. Me and Zack stayed up in dat\ntree, but some of de niggers went up and shaked hands wid Alf.\n\n\"Time out! You could-a heard a pin drap. I could hear my breath\na-coming. I got scared. Zack looked ra'al ashy. Nobody on de ground\nmoved, jest stayed ra'al quiet and still. Noose drapped over de man's\nneck and tightened. Some one moved de block from under his foots. Dat\njerked him down. Whoop! All dem in de tree fell out 'cept me and Zack,\ndey was so scared. Alf Walker wasn't no mo'. Me and Zack sot up in dat\ntree like two cranks. Us sot dar as if it hadn't tuck no 'fect on us\na-tall. All de other folks got 'fected. Zack tickled me when he saw me\nstudying. He 'low 'you act awful hard-hearted.' I 'low, 'dat man telling\nus how to do jest now, and dar he is hanged. Us still a-setting in dis\ntree, ain't we? We ain't never wanted to see no mo' hangings, is we\nZack?' Zack 'low dat we ain't.\n\n\"Onc't de guide low'd to de President, 'You raises your hat to a\nnigger?' President 'low, 'I ain't gwine to let nobody be mo' polite dan\nI is.' He never let nobody have mo' sense dan he did either. Dat was\nWashington.\n\n\"Me and Zack is gwine to tell you how it is. We is old and ain't no need\nfer old folks to try and fool. I is too shame to beg. I wants de\npension. Is you gwine to tell me 'bout it? Dis de truth, I is took a\nchip fer food. If I could got to school and write fast as I can shake my\nfist, I'd be a-giving out dat pension right fast. I likes character and\nprinciple. I got a boy turned into 64 years. He got character and\nprinciple, and he still do what I say. I never put my mouth amongst old\nfolks when I was young. Me and Zack often talks over old times.\"\n\n Source: Elias Dawkins (84), Rt. 1, Gaffney, S. C.\n Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. 8/20/37.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n FOLKLORE\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n June 3, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES OF EX-SLAVES\n\n\nUpon learning where an ex-slave lived, the writer walked up to a house\non Pickenpack street where two old colored men were sitting on the front\nporch. Asked if one of them was named 'Will Dill', the blacker of the\ntwo motioned to himself and said,\n\n\"Come here, come in and have a seat,\" at the same time touching the\nporch swing beside him.\n\nHe acknowledged that he lived in slavery days, \"but was a small boy,\nwalking and playing around at that time\". His master was Zeek Long, who\nlived in Anderson County not far from \"Three and Twenty Mile Creek' and\nused to ask him:--what the rooster said, what the cow said, what the pig\nsaid; and used to get a great deal of amusement out of his kiddish\nreplies and imitation of each animal and fowl. From his own calculation,\nhe figured he was born in 1862 in the home of his mother who was owned\nby Zeek Long. His father, also, was owned by the same master, but lived\nin another house. He remembers when the Yankees came by and asked for\nsomething to eat. When they had gotten this, they went to the corn crib,\nwhich was chock full of corn, and took the corn out, shucked it, and\ngave it to their horses. All the good horses had been hidden in the\nwoods and only two or three old poor ones were left in the stables, but\nthe Yankees did not take these for they only wanted good horses. He\nremembers seeing the patrollers coming around and checking up on the\n'niggers'. He had an uncle who used to slip off every night and go to\nsee some colored girl. He had a path that he followed in going to her\nhouse.\n\n\"One night Uncle Bob, he started to go see his gal, and it was pretty\nlate, but he followed his path. There were some paterollers out looking\nfor him, and t'rectly they saw him. Uncle Bob lit out running and the\npaterollers started running, too. Here they had it up and down the path.\nUncle Bob, he knew there was a big ditch crossing the path, but the\npaterollers didn't know it; so when Uncle Bob got to the gully, he\njumped right over it and run on, but one of the patrollers fell into the\ngully and broke his neck. After dat, Uncle Bob, he stayed in and kept\nquiet, for he knew the paterollers had it in for him.\"\n\nHe asked the writer if he had ever heard a chicken talk. He said that he\nhad, and described a scene at the house one day when a preacher was\nthere. The chickens and guineas came around the house as usual to get\ntheir feed, but didn't get it. He \"quoted\" the rooster as saying; \"Has\nthe preacher gone yet?\" A guinea hen answered, \"not yet--not yet\".\n\nHe said that he often heard turkeys talk. They would ask each other\nquestions, and another fowl would answer. He once heard a mule that was\nin the barn, say: \"Lord! Lord! All I want is corn and fodder.\"\n\nBeing told by the negro who was sitting beside him, that he did not\nbelieve animals and fowls could talk, he at once said:\n\n\"Sure--roosters and gobblers can talk, one day there was a turkey hen\nand a lots of little turkeys scratching around a certain place on a\nhill, the little turkeys were heard to say, 'Please mam, please mam'. An\nold gobbler standing and strutting near, cried out, 'Get the hell out of\nhere'. The turkey hen then moved to another place to feed.\"\n\nHe said that he gets out in his porch early in the mornings and whistles\nto the birds, and that soon a large flock of birds are all around him.\nOffering to demonstrate his ability, he began to whistle in a peculiar\nway. Soon thereafter, two or three English sparrows flew into the yard\nfrom nearby trees.\n\n\"See thar! See thar!\" he said, pointing to them.\n\n\"When the war was over,\" he continued, \"we stayed on at Marster's\nplantation for some time. I grew up, and was always a fellow who liked\nhard work. I have railroaded, was a tree doctor, helped dig wells and\ndid a lot of hard work. The white people was always pleased with my work\nand told me so. I went down a well once to help clean it out. It looked\nlike to me that well was caving in above me; so I hollered for them to\npull me out. When I got out, I told them I wasn't going down no wells\nany more unless somebody threw me in.\"\n\nHe said that he had seen lots of wild turkeys when he was a boy. One day\nwhen he was going to get some \"bacco\" for his aunt, he saw a hen and a\nlot of little turkeys--\n\n\"I run after the little wild turkeys but I never kotched a one. That old\nmother hen would fly from one limb in a tree to another limb in another\ntree and call them. They was the runningest things I ever saw. I nearly\nrun myself to death but I never did get one.\"\n\nEvery now and them, he said, one of the men on the plantation would\nshoot a wild hog and we would have plenty of meat to eat. The hogs ran\nwild in those days, he said.\n\n\"I never saw a ghost,\" he said, \"unless it was one night when we boys\nwas out with our dogs 'possum hunting. The dogs treed a possum in a\nlittle scrubby tree. I was always a good climber; so I went up the tree\nto shake the 'possum out. I shook and shook but the 'possum would not\nfall out of the tree. I shook so hard that my hat fell off and I told\nthe niggers not to let the dogs tear my hat. That was no skunk in the\ntree, 'cause we couldn't smell anything, but when I looked again at the\n'possum, or whatever it was, it got bigger and bigger. I scrambled down\nthe tree right away, nearly falling out of it, but I wanted to get away.\nThe dogs acted kinda scared; yet they would run up to the tree and bark.\nOne old dog I had did not bark, he just hollered. We left the thing in\nthe tree. I don't know what it was, but it warn't no 'possum, for I'd\nshook it out of the tree if it had been.\"\n\nIn further discussing the subject of fowls in talking among themselves,\nhe said that he had often noticed a rooster and some hens standing\naround in the shade talking.\n\n\"The rooster will say something and the hens will listen; then answer\nhim back, 'yes'. One day I heard a turkey hen say, 'we are poor, we are\npoor'. The old turkey gobbler said, 'well, who in the hell can help it.'\nYes sir, they talk just like we do, but 'taint everybody can understand\n'em.\"\n\nHe said that he had fifteen children by his first wife. He remained\nsingle for thirteen years after his wife's death, and never had any\nchildren by his second wife.\n\n\"Do you reckon we'll ever get a pension in our old age?\" he asked. \"It\nseems to me they would give us old fellows something to live on, for we\ncan't work. How can we live now-a-days? When a man has done good work\nwhen he was able, the country ought to take care of him in his old age.\n\n\"I was a hand for hard work all my life. I was raised that way; but now,\nthat I can't do nothing, it looks like the state ought to take care of\nme.\n\n\"My father told me when I was sitting up to a gal and I told him I was\ngwinter marry her, 'Son don't you never cut that woman across the back,\nfor as sure as you do, that cut will be against you on Judgement Day.\"\n\n\"When I was laid up with the misery in my side, my feet swelled up and\nbusted, and I had a awful hurting in my side and back. People wanted me\nto believe I had been conjured, but I did not believe it, and I told\nthem I would eat all the stuff that a conjure man could bring. Anybody\nthat believes in conjuring is just a liar. God is the only a person who\ncan bring suffering on people. He don't want to do it, but it's because\nwe do something He don't want us to when He makes people suffer. It is\nthe bugger man that does it.\"\n\n\"Uncle\" Will said that his father and mother were married by a\n\"jack-leg\" preacher who, when told that they wanted to get married, had\nthem both to jump backwards and forwards over a broom. He then told them\nthat they were man and wife.\n\n Source: Will Dill, 555 Pickenpack St., Spartanburg, S. C.\n Interviewer: F. S. DuPre, Spartanburg, Dist. 4 5/19/37\n\n\n\n\n W. W. Dixon\n Winnsboro, S. C.\n\n THOMAS DIXON\n EX-SLAVE 75 YEARS OLD.\n\n\nTom Dixon, a mulatto, is a superannuated minister of the Gospel. He\nlives in Winnsboro, S. C., at the corner of Moultrie and Crawford\nStreets. He is duly certified and registered as an old age pensioner and\ndraws a pension of $8.00 per month from the Welfare Board of South\nCarolina. He is incapable of laborious exercise.\n\n\"I was born in 1862, thirteen miles northeast of Columbia, S. C., on the\nborder line of Kershaw and Fairfield Counties. My mother was a slave of\nCaptain Moultrie Gibbes. My father was white, as you can see. My mother\nwas the cook for my white folks; her name was Malinda. She was born a\nslave of Mr. Tillman Lee Dixon of Liberty Hill. After she learned to\ncook, my marster bought her from her master and paid $1,200.00 for her.\nAfter freedom, us took the name of Dixon.\n\n\"My mistress in slavery time was Miss Mary. She was a Clark before she\nmarried Marse Moultrie. I was nothing but a baby when the war ended and\nfreedom come to our race. I lived on my marster's Wateree River\nplantation, with mother, until he sold it and went into the hotel\nbusiness at Union, S. C.\n\n\"My mother then went to Columbia, S. C., and I attended Benedict\nCollege. I became a preacher in 1886, the year of the earthquake. That\nearthquake drove many sinners to their knees, me amongst them; and, when\nI got up, I resolved to be a soldier of the cross, and every since I\nhave carried the shield of faith in my left hand and the sword of the\nWord in my right hand.\n\n\"The night I was converted, the moon was shining brightly. We was all at\na revival meeting out from Blythewood, then called Dako, S. C. First, we\nheard a low murmur or rolling sound like distant thunder, immediately\nfollowed by the swaying of the church and a cracking sound from the\njoists and rafters of the building. The women folks set up a screaming.\nThe men folks set up a hollering: 'Oh Lordy! Jesus save me! We believe!\nCome Almighty King!' The preacher tried to quiet us, but we run out the\nchurch in the moonlight, men and women crying and praying. The preacher,\nRev. Charlie Moore, continued the services outside and opened the doors\nof the church, and every blessed soul come forward and joined the\nchurch.\n\n\"I married Fannie Irwin, and God blessed us all the days of her life. My\ndaughter, Maggie, married a Collins and lives in the Harlem section of\nNew York City. My daughter, Sallie, lives also in Harlem, Greenville\nVillage. Malinda, named for my mother, lives and works in Columbia, S.\nC.\n\n\"On the death of my wife, Fannie, I courted and married the widow Lizzie\nWilliams. The house we live in is her own property. She had two children\nwhen we married, a boy and a girl. The boy got killed at the schoolhouse\ntwo years ago. The girl is working in Columbia, S. C. I am a\nsuperannuated minister of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, and\nreceive a small sum of money from the denomination, yearly. The amount\nvaries in different years. At no time is it sufficient to keep me in\nfood and clothing and support.\n\n\"I have taken nothing to do with politics all my life, but my race has\nbeen completely transformed, in that regard, since Mr. Roosevelt has\nbeen President. Left to a popular vote of the race, Mr. Roosevelt would\nget the solid South, against any other man on any ticket he might run\non. He is God Almighty's gentleman. By that, I mean he is brave in the\npresence of the blue-bloods, kind in the presence of the common people,\nand gentle to the lowly and despised Negro.\"\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Folklore\n Spartanburg, Dist. 4\n Dec. 1, 1937\n Edited by: Elmer Turnage\n\n [~HW: (Dorroh~]\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I live wid my daughter in a four-room house which we rents from Doc\nHunter. He got it in charge. My husband died several years ago.\n\n\"My daddy was Harvey Pratt, and he belonged to Marse Bob Pratt in\nNewberry. My mammy was Mary Fair, and she belonged in slavery to marse\nSimeon Fair. When dey married dey had a big wedding. Marse didn't make\nslave women marry men if dey didn't want to. Befo' my mammy and daddy\nmarried, somebody give a note to take to Mrs. Fair, her mistress.\nMistress wouldn't tell what was in it, but daddy run every step of de\nway, he was so glad dey would let 'em marry.\n\n\"Col. Simeon Fair had a big fish pond on his place down on de branch\nbehind his house, and he had a milkhouse, too. (This is where the\nMargaret Hunter Park is).\n\n\"My great-grandmother come from Virginia. She was bought by Marse Fair\nfrom a speculator's drove. Slaves had good places to live in and\neverything to eat. Old Marse sho cared for his slaves. He give 'em\nplenty of clothes and good things to eat. On Sundays dey had to go to de\nwhite folks' church and he made dem put on new clean clothes dat he give\n'em.\n\n\"I was born about two years befo' freedom, and I lost my mammy right\natter de war. I remember about de Ku Klux and Red Shirts.\n\n\"Everything we had was made at home, or on marster's big plantation in\nde country. Marse told his son, Billy, befo' he died to take care of his\nniggers and see dat dey didn't want for nothing.\n\n\"Marse made de slaves work all day and sometimes on Saturdays, but he\nnever let 'em work at night. Sometimes on de plantation dey had\ncorn-shuckings and log-rollings; den dey give de hands good dinners and\nsome whiskey to drink.\n\n\"One old nigger had a weak back and couldn't work much, so he use to\nplay marbles in de yard wid de kids most every day.\n\n\"Slaves couldn't go away from de place unless dey had a pass from de\nmarse to show de patrollers when dey caught dem out.\n\n\"My daddy use to cook at de old Newberry Hotel. He was one of de finest\ncooks in dis part of de country. De hotel was a small wooden frame\nbuilding wid a long front piazza. In de back was a small wooden two-room\nhouse dat servants lived in. Atter de war, de 'little guard house' stood\njes' behind where de opera house now is.\n\n\"Some of de slaves learned to read and write. Marse didn't keep dem from\nlearning if dey wanted to. Niggers used to sing, 'I am born to die'. Dey\nlearn't it from Marse Ramage's son, 'Jock' Ramage. He learn't 'em to\nsing it.\n\n\"Atter de war, Marse told de niggers dey was free. Most of dem stayed on\nwid him and took his name. Slaves most always took de name of deir\nmarsters.\n\n\"My mother married at Thomas Pope's place, and he had old man Ned\nPearson, a nigger who could read and write, to marry 'em. He married\nlots of niggers den. Atter de war many niggers married over agin, 'cause\ndey didn't know if de first marriage was good or not.\n\n\"Marse Fair let his niggers have dances and frolics on his plantation,\nand on Saturdays dey danced till 12 o'clock midnight. Sometimes dey\ndanced jigs, too, in a circle, jumping up and down. In dese times de\nyoung folks dance way into Sunday mornings, and nobody to stop 'em, but\nMarse wouldn't let his slaves dance atter 12 o'clock.\n\n\"Everybody believed in ghosts. Nobody would pass by a graveyard on a\ndark night, and dese days dey go to cemeteries to do deir mischief, at\nnight and not afraid. Doctors used to have home-made medicines. Old Dr.\nBrown made medicine from a root herb to cure rheumatism. He called it\n'rhue'. He lived in what is now called Graveltown. His old house has\nbeen torn down. He made hot teas from barks for fevers. He made a liquid\nsalve to rub on for rheumatism.\n\n\"When freedom come most of de slaves stayed on. Some man come here to\nmake a speech to de slaves. He spoke in Marse Fair's yard to a big crowd\nof niggers and told dem to stay on and work for wages. When de Yankees\ncome through here, dey stole everything dey could git deir hands on. Dey\nwent in de house and took food and articles. Marse put guards around his\nhouse to keep dem out so dey wouldn't steal all de potatoes and flour he\nhad for his slaves. Ku Klux went around de country and caught niggers\nand carpetbaggers. De carpetbaggers would hunt up chillun's lands, whose\ndaddys was killed and try to take dem. Dat was when Judge Leheigh was\nhere, and Capt. Bone was postmaster. Dey was Republicans, but when de\nDemocrats got in power dey stopped all dat.\n\n\"When I married John Dorroh I had a big wedding. We married at de Harp\nplace in Newberry, jes' behind de big house, in a nigger cottage. White\nfolks and niggers come. I was known amongst de best white families\n'cause I served as cook for dem. I was married by Rev. J. K. Walls, a\nnigger preacher from Charleston.\n\n\"I think slavery ended through de work of Almighty God. My mother always\nsaid dat was it. My daddy left here and went to Memphis when I was five\nyears old. He sent home $40. He was in de army wid Major James Baxter.\nHe took care of de guns and things of de Major.\"\n\n Source: Isabella Dorroh (N, 75), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. L. Summer, Newberry, S. C. 11/22/27.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Spartanburg, S. C.\n May 31, 1937\n Edited by: Martha Ritter\n\n FOLKLORE: EX-SLAVES\n\n\n\"I was born in Newberry County, S. C. below Prosperity on Capt. George\nDe Walt's place. My daddy and mammy was Giles and Lizzie De Walt\nDowning. My daddy belonged to de Outz family, but changed his name to\nDowning--his master was Downing Outz. I was born about 1857. My mother\nhad 16 children, some died young.\n\nI was a little chap when the war was here, but I remember de soldiers\ncoming home from de war. De Yankees went through here and stole all the\ncattle and all the eats. De Ku Klux marched down de road dressed in\nwhite sheets. Freedom come and most of the slaves went away, but I\nstayed on wid Marse De Walt. Daddy worked wid Downing Outz for wages.\nWhen I was 15 years old I worked in de fields like grown folks. I never\nlearned to read and write. We had no schools then for colored people. De\nonly church we had after freedom come was a small \"brush arbor\" church.\n\n\"We hunted rabbits, 'possums, squirrels, wild turkeys, doves and\npartridges there.\n\n\"I joined de church when I was 20 years old, 'cause I thought times\nwould be better for me then. Of course, I kind of back-slided little\nafterwards, but always tried to do right.\n\n Source: Laurence Downing (80), Newberry, S. C.\n Interviewer: G. Leland Sumer, Newberry, S. C.\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, Jane 23, 1937\n\n WASHINGTON DOZIER\n Ex-Slave, 90 years\n\n\n\"Dis heah sho' Washington Dozier. Dat is wha' de hard time left uv him.\nI born en raise dere in Florence County de 18th uv December, 1847. Don'\nknow 'xactly wha' my father name, but my mudder tell me he wuz name\nDozier. My mudder wuz Becky en she b'long to ole man Wiles Gregg dere on\nde Charleston road. I hab two sisters en one brother, but not uv one\nfather. I s'ppose brother Henry wuz me whole brother en Fannie en\nCa'oline wuz jes me half sister.\"\n\n\"Well, dey ne'er hab so mucha sumptin, but I recollect dey make dey own\nproduce den. Oh, dey lib very well. We call it good libin' at dat time.\nCoase de bedding de colored peoples hab wasn't much cause dey jes hab\nsome kind uv home-made stuff den. We raise in a t'ree room house wha'\nhab floor on two uv de room. Hab house right dere on de Gregg\nplantation. Family went from age to age in dat day en time wid dey own\nMassa name. I 'member my gra'mudder was name Fannie Gregg. Now, I tell\nyuh how I 'count fa me hab de name Dozier, I jes s'ppose dat come from\nme father.\"\n\n\"Hadder do some sorta work in dem days lak hoe corn en replant en so on\nlak dat, but ne'er didn't do no man work. Wuz jes uh half hand, dat is\n'bout so. Dey gi'e us plenty sumptin to eat den, but ne'er pay us no\nmoney. Coase dey didn't 'low us no choice uv wha' we eat at dat time.\nHab plenty meat en corn bread en molasses mos' aw de time. Den dey le'\nus hab uh garden uv we own en we hunt possum many uh time en ketch fish\ntoo. Meat was de t'ing dat I lak mostly.\"\n\n\"Dey gi'e us good clothes to put on us back wha' dey hab make on de\nplantation en in de winter, dey gi'e us good warm clothes. Jes wear\nwha'e'er de white folks gi'e us. Didn't take no 'ffect tall 'bout Sunday\nclothes.\"\n\n\"Fust time I marry I hab uh very good wedding. Marry ole man Gurley\ndaughter o'er in Florence County. Don' know 'xactly how ole I was den,\nbut I c'n tell yah dis much, I wasn't in no herry to marry. Aw colored\npeoples hadder do to marry den wuz to go to dey Massa en ge' uh permit\nen consider demselves man en wife. I recollect dat we hab a very good\nwedding supper dere. I marry Georgeanna de second time en I hab four\nhead uv chillun by me fust wife en four head uv chillun by me second\nwife. Ne'er couldn't tell how many gran'chillun I got.\"\n\nMy Massa en Missus wuz mighty pious good people. Dey go to preachin'\ndere to Hopewell Presbyterian Chu'ch aw de time. De man wha' wuz de\npreacher dere den wuz name Frierson. De colored peoples go dere to dat\nsame chu'ch en sot en de gallery. Yuh know dere spirituals hymns en dere\nreels. I c'n sing one uv dem dat I use'er sing in my slumberin' hours.\nIt go lak dis:\n\n Chillun, wha' yuh gwinna do in de jedgment mornin'?\n Chillun, wha' yuh gwinna do in de jedgment mornin'?\n Oh Chillun, wha' yuh gwinna do in de jedgment mornin'\n When ole Gable go down on de seashore?\n\n He gwinna place one foot in de sea\n En de udder on de land,\n En declare tha' time would be no more,\n Chillun, wha' yuh gwinna do?\n\n Chillun, wha' yah gwinna do in de jedgment mornin'?\n Chillun, wha' yah gwinna do in de jedgment mornin'?\n Then chillun, wha' yuh gwinna do\n When ole Gable go down on de seashore?\n\n He gwinna place one foot in de sea\n En de udder on de land,\n En declare tha' time would be no more,\n Then chillun, wha' yuh gwinna do in de jedgment mornin'?\n\n\"Now de angels sing dat to me in my slumberin' hour en dey sing it dat I\nmight gi'e it to de libin' heah on dis earth. Well, I know right smart\nuv dem song cause accordin' to my 'sperience, de hymn book wha' to fence\nde human family in. I got ah good set uv lungs en I wuz de one wha' lead\nde flock den. Dere jes one grand reason why I can' sing right well dis\na'ternoon, yuh is take me on de surprise lak.\"\n\n\"I was jes uh chap in slavery time en I hadder stay dere home aw de time\nwhey dere didn't no harm come 'bout me. Dey le' we chillun play marbles\nen ball aw we wanna den. Jes chunk de ball to one annuder o'er de house.\nDat how we play ball in dem times. My white folks didn't do nuthin but\nstay home en go to chu'ch meetin's. Dey ne'er didn't punish none uv dey\ncolored peoples en didn' 'low no udder people to do it neither. I\ncouldn't tell yah how many slave dey own but dey hab more slave by de\nincrease uv dey families. Dey hab so many dat some uv de time dey'ud\nhire some uv dem out to annuder plantation. Ne'er didn't see em sell\nnone uv dey colored peoples. I know dis much, dat wuz uh right good\nplace to lib.\"\n\n\"I heared tell uv trouble 'tween de whites en de colored peoples, but\ndere wuzn't none uv dat 'round whey I stay. Dey say some uv de slave run\n'way fa bad treatment en stay in de woods. Didn't hab no jails den en\nwhen dey'd ketch em, dey'ud buff em en gag em en hoss whip em. Now, I\nne'er see none uv dat but I heared tell uv it.\"\n\n\"My Massa ne'er didn't work us hard lak. Coase uz de day' ud come, de\nhands hadder go up to de big house en go 'bout dey business, but dey\nal'ays knock offen early on uh Saturday evenin' en le' everbody do jes\nwha' dey wanna dere on de plantation. Ne'er didn't use no horn to wake\ndey colored peoples up en didn't wake em work en de big Christmus day en\nNew Years' neither. Ne'er hab no udder holidays but dem two. My Massa\ngi'e aw his colored peoples uh big Christmus dinner to de white folks\nhouse. Jes hab plenty uv fresh meat en rice en biscuit en cake fa\neve'ybody dat day.\"\n\n\"Dey hab funeral fa de colored peoples den jes lak dey hab dese days\n'cept dey ne'er hab no preacher 'bout. Aw de slaves stop workin' fa de\nfuneral en dey'ud jes carry de body en permit it to de ground uz wuz de\nusual t'ing dey do. Coase dey hab plenty singin' dere.\"\n\n\"Dem t'ing wha' people call ghostes, dey is evil walks. I know dis much,\nde sperit uv de body travels en dat de truth sho' uz I libin' heah.\nCoase I ain' ne'er see none uv dem t'ing en I ain' scared uv nuthin\nneither. Don' ne'er pay no 'ttention to no black cat en t'ing lak dat.\nAin' bother wid none uv dem charm neither. De peoples use'er hab dey own\ndoc'or book en dey search dat en use wha' it say do. Dey ne'er use no\nme'icine tall den but calomel en castor oil en turpentine.\"\n\n\"I sho' 'member when de fust gun shoot dere to Fort Sumter. Us fer uz I\nc'n recollect, it wuz in June. De Yankees come t'rough dere en to my\nknowin', dey 'haved very well. Jes ax my Massa fa sumptin to eat en dat\nwuz aw dey done. Dere sho' wuz uh rejoicing 'mongest some uv de colored\npeoples when dey tell em dey wuz free uz de white folks wuz. Some uv dem\nleab dey Massa plantation jes uz soon uz dey know'd dey wuz free, but we\nne'er do dat. Jes stayed right on dere wid Mr. Gregg en work fa\none-third uv wha' dey make. Coase de white folks furnish aw de wear en\ntear uv eve't'ing.\"\n\n\"Dey ain' ne'er hab no schools fa de colored peoples no whey 'bout whey\nI stay 'fore freedom come heah. Won' long a'ter de war dat free schools\nwuz open up dere. It jes lak dis, I ain' bother wid dem schools mucha\nden, but I c'n read right smart. Jes ketch it uz I come 'long en wha' I\nkotch, I put dat to work. I is went to one uv dese night schools dey hab\n'bout heah not long gone.\"\n\n\"Mr. Abraham Lincoln, I ain' ne'er see him, but I know he wuz de\nPresident uv de United States. Ain' ne'er see Mr. Jefferson Davis\nneither. Dey wus oppositionalist den, I sho' know dat.\"\n\n\"It jes lak dis, I t'ink dis uh better day we lib in dese times. When we\nb'long to de white folks, we lib, en a'ter we wuz free we lib right on.\nI t'ink being free de best time to lib. Better to be loose den tied\ncause don' care how good yo' owner, yuh hadder be under dey\njurisdiction. Ain' dat right?\"\n\n Source: Washington Dozier, age 90, colored, Pee Dee, Marion\n Co. (Personal interview, June 1937).\n\n\n\n\n Project 1885-1\n Spartanburg Dist. 4\n Sept. 22, 1937\n Edited by:\n Elmer Turnage\n\n STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES\n [~HW: Duk~]\n\n\n\"Vinie Wilkins is my daughter's name dat live wid me. My son owns dis\nhouse and he keeps it up fer me and his sister. I's born on de bank of\nCherokee Creek, but I jest 'members how many years I stayed dar. Atter\nFreedom had been a long time, we moved to Mr. Chesterfield Scruggs'\nplantation whar we share cropped. It was on de old Spartanburg road from\nhere to Spartanburg.\n\n\"I was purtty good-size chile when de Ku Klux come and tried to git my\ndaddy. Dey whipped him; den he run off and stayed off fer over seven\nyears. Dem Ku Klux was in all kinds of shapes, wid horns and things on\ndere heads. Dey was so scary looking dat I ain't never fergot dem. Dem's\nde awfulest 'boogers' I is ever see'd befo' or since. I was in de bed\nand so was Pa, but dey broke in our do' and got him. I kivvered up my\nhead and did not make narry a sound. Dat's all dat I can recollect now.\"\n\n Source: Alice Duke (72), 401 Woods St., Gaffney, S. C.\n Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. 9/16/37\n\n\n\n\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, June 9, 1937\n\n AUNT SILVA DURANT\n Ex-Slave\n\n\n\"I don' know 'xactly when I wuz born but I hear my white folks say dat I\nwuz born de fust (first) year uv freedom. I I c'n tell yuh dis much dat\nI wuz uh grown 'oman when de shake wuz. Aw de older peoples wuz at de\nchu'ch en ha' left us home to take care uv aw dem little chillun. Fust\nt'ing we is know de house 'gin to quiver lak. We ne'er know wha' been to\nmatter en den de house 'gin to rock en rock en rock. We wuz so scare we\nrun outer in de yard en eve't'ing outer dere wuz jes uh shaking jes lak\nde house wuz. We ne'er know wha' to do. Den we heared de peoples comin'\nfrom de chu'ch jes uh runnin' en uh hollerin'. Didn't nobody know wha'\nmake dat. I tellin yuh jes lak dat wuz, de jedgment ain' ne'er been no\ncloser come heah den when dat shake was.\"\n\n\"My mudder wuz name Clorrie en she b'long to Miss Millie Gasque up de\nroad dere. I born in Miss Millie yard en I stay dere till I wuz six year\nold. My pa say I wuz six year old. He been ole man Vidger Hanes en\nb'long to Mr. Wesley White o'er dere 'bout laughin 'fore freedom 'clare.\nA'ter dat we move on de hill en my pa hire me dere to Colonel Durant to\nwash dishes en help 'bout de kitchen. Den dey put me to do de washin' en\nI been uh washin' en uh washin' mos' e'er since. Dats de way I done till\nI ge' so I ne'er couldn't make it en den I hadder quit offen. Dat how\ncome I hab aw dese pretty flowers. Miss Durant gi'e me aw dem dahlia\nwha' yuh see in dat yard right dere. Dat how I ge' wha' little bit uv\nmoney I hab dese day en time. Dem white folks up dere in town comes down\nheah en begs em from me.\"\n\n\"Dey tell me some uv de peoples ge' 'long good en den some uv dem ge'\n'long bad back dere in slavery day. Don' care how good peoples is dere\nsho' be uh odd'un de crowd some uv de time. Dey say some uv de colored\npeoples'ud run 'way from dey Massa en hide in de woods. Den dey slip\nback to de plantation in de night en ge' green corn outer de white folks\nfield en carry em back in de woods en cook em dere. I hear Tom Bostick\ntell 'bout when he run 'way one time. Say he use'er run 'way en hide in\nde woods aw de time. Den de o'erseer ketch him one time when he been\ncome back en wuz grabblin' 'bout de tatoe patch. Say he gwinna make Tom\nBostick stay outer de woods ur kill him 'fore sun up dat day. Tom say\ndey take him down 'side de woods en strip he clothes offen him. (I hear\nem say dere plenty people bury down 'side dem woods dat dere ain' nobody\nknow 'bout). Den he say dey tie him to uh tree en take uh fat light'ud\ntorch en le' de juice drap outer it right on he naked body. He say he\nholler en he beg en he ax em hab mercy but dat ne'er didn't do no good.\nHe mock how de tar make uh racket when it drap on he skin. Yuh know it\ngwinna make uh racke't. Dat t'ing gwinna make uh racket when it drap on\nanyt'ing wha' fresh. Ain' yuh ne'er hear no hot grease sizzle lak?\nYas'um, hear Tom Bostick tell dat more times den I got fingers en toe.\"\n\n\"Den dey'ud hab sale en sell some uv de colored peoples offen to annuder\nplantation hundred mile 'way some uv de time. 'Vide man en he wife. Dey\nsho' done it. I hear pa tell 'bout dat. Make em stand up on uh stump en\nbid em offen dere jes lak dey wuz hoss. Pa say dey sell he brother Elic\nwife 'way wid de onlyest child dey hab. Ne'er didn't see dat wife en\nchild no more.\"\n\n\"Coase de le' de colored peoples visit 'round from one plantation to\nannuder but dey hadder hab uh ticke' wid em. Effen dey meet em in de\nroad en dey ne'er hab dat ticke' somewhey 'bout on em, dey hadder take\nwha' follow. Ne'er 'low em to hab no udder paper 'bout em no whey. Effen\ndey see em wid uh paper, dey ax em 'bout it en effen it ne'er been uh\nticke', dey mighty apt to gi'e em uh good t'rashin'.\"\n\n\"Dey tell me some uv de colored peoples use'er take t'ing from dey\nMassa, but I ain' ne'er see em do none uv dat on my white folks\nplantation. Ne'er hadder take nuthin dere. Ge' 'nough meal en meat dere\nto de big house eve'y Friday to las' em aw t'rough de week. Reckon de\nration wuz more wholesome den in dat day en time cause dey take time en\ncook dey t'ing done. Hadder cook in de fireplace. Dat how dey done. I\n'member wha' good t'ings my ole mammy use'er cook in dat spider. Jes set\nit on de coals en keep uh turnin' it 'bout wid de handle. Dere ain'\nne'er nuthin eat no better den dat ash cake she use'er make fa we\nchillun. Yuh ain' ne'er hear tell 'bout dat. Jes ster (stir) up uh nice\nhoecake en wrap it up in oak leaves wha' right sorta wet. Den yuh rake\nuh heap uv ash togedder en lay yuh hoecake on dat en kiver it up wid\nsome more ash. Yuh le' it cook right done en den yuh take it up en wash\nit offen en it ready to eat. Us chillun lub dat den.\"\n\n\"Annuder t'ing dat eat right smart in dem days wuz dat t'ing call big\nhominy. Dey jes ge' some whole grain corn en put it in de pot en boil it\nlong time. Den dey take it offen de fire en pour lye water aw o'er it.\nDey do dat to ge' de husk offen it. Soak ash outer de fire en ge' dat\nlye water. Den dey hadder take it to de well outer in de yard en wash it\nuh heap uv time to ge' dat lye outer it. A'ter dat dey season it wid\nsalt en pepper en cook it annuder time. No 'mam, dey ne'er eat it wid no\nbutter. Jes drap it in de grease wha' left in de pan a'ter dey fry de\nmeat en make it right brown lak. Dat de way dey cook dey big hominy.\"\n\n\"Folks don' hab time to do t'ings in de right way lak dey use'er cause\nde world gwine too fas' dese day en time. Dese people comin' up 'bout\nheah dese days ain' gwinna ne'er quit habin' so mucha belly ache long uz\ndey ain' stop eatin' aw dem half done ration dey is eat. Coase de\npeoples wiser now but dey weaker. De peoples wuz more humble in dem\ndays. When dey didn't hab no rain, dey ge' togedder en pray fa rain en\ndey ge' it too. I tellin' yuh peoples gotta work effen dey gwinna ge' to\nde right place when dey leab heah. Effen de peoples ne'er didn't go to\nchu'ch in dem days, dey stay home. Ne'er see chillun in de road on\nSunday eve'y which uh way lak yunnah see em dese days. My pa say yuh\nmus' train up uh child in de way he oughta go en den effen dey stray\n'way, dey sho' come back a'ter while. I tellin' yuh de peoples ain' lak\ndey use'er wuz. Dey sho' wickeder en worser in dis day en time den when\nI raise up. Dey wuz more friendly den en do more favor fa peoples. It\njes lak dis, I ain' gwinna do nobody no harm. Effen I can' do em no\ngood, ain' gwinna do no harm en ain' gwinna 'buse em neither.\"\n\n Source: Aunt Silva Durant, colored, Marion, S. C.\n Personal interview, May 1937.\n\n\n\n\n Project, 1885-(1)\n Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis\n Place, Marion, S. C.\n Date, October 21, 1937\n\n SYLVIA DURANT\n Ex-Slave, 72 Years\n\n\n\"Well, I tell you just like it been. Dat was an unexpectin trip when you\ncome here dat day en I wasn' thinkin bout much dat I had know to tell\nyou. It been kind o' put me on a wonder.\"\n\n\"You see, child, I never didn' see my grandfather cause when I was born,\ndey had done sold him away. I hear tell dat sometimes dey would take de\nwife from dey husband en another time dey would take de husband from dey\nwife en sell dem off yonder somewhe' en never didn' see dem no more\nneither. Yes, I sho know dat cause I hear my father speak bout dat\nplenty times. Yes, mam, dey sold my uncle's wife away en he never didn'\nsee her no more till after freedom come en he done been married again\nden. Speculators carried my mother's first husband off en den she\nmarried again. Cose I was born of de second husband en dat ain' been\nyesterday.\"\n\n\"I hear talk bout dat didn' none of de colored people have nothin in\nslavery time en heap of dem wasn' allowed to pick up a paper or nothin\nno time. Often hear dem talk dat some of de niggers was freed long time\nfore dey know bout it. Hear dem say some white folks hold dem long time\ntill dey could make out to get somethin for demselves. Don' think so.\nDon' think so. No, mam, don' think so. Dey might been intended for dem\nto get somethin when dey was freed, but I never learn of nobody gettin\nnothin. Cose I often heard my father say some white folks thought more\nbout dey colored people den others en hope dem out more. Hear tell dat\ndidn' none of dem have no clothes much den. No, mam, colored people won'\nbless wid no clothes much in dem days. I remember dey had to wear dese\nold big shoes, call brogans, wid brass all cross de toes here. Nobody\ndon' wear nothin like dat now. Dey was coarse shoes. Some say plenty of\nde people had to go barefooted all de time in dem days. Reckon dat would\nkill de people in dis day en time. Couldn' stand nothin like dat. Yes,\nmam, see Tom Bostick walk right cross dat field many a day just as\nbarefooted as he come in de world en all de ground would be covered over\nwid ice en snow. De people get after him en he say, 'Well, I had worser\nden dis to go through wid in slavery time.' Say he come up dat way en he\nnever know no difference den dat he had thick shoe on his foot.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, some of de white folks would spare dey colored people so\nmuch ration when dey knock off work on a Saturday to last dem till de\nnext Saturday come. Hear tell dey give dem a peck of meal en a little\nmolasses en a hog jowl en dat had to last dem all de week. Dem what use\na little tobacco, give dem a plug of dat en give dem a little flour for\nSunday. Didn' nobody have to work on Sunday en den dey would allow dem\ntwo days off for Christmas too. I tellin you bout how my white folks\nwould do, but dem what had a rough Massa, dey just got one day. I hear\ndem say dey always had a little flour on Christmas. Don' know what else\ndey give dem, but won' nothin much. I know dat. Sho know dat.\"\n\n\"I hear say two intelligent people didn' live so far apart en one never\ntreat dey colored people right en being as dey wasn' allowed to go from\none place to another widout dey had a ticket wid dem, dey would steal\nsomethin en run away. Say de just man tell dat other man dat if he would\nfeed his niggers right, dey wouldn' have no need to be stealin so much\nthings. No'um, I does hate to tell dat. Cose dey say dey done it. Say de\noverseer would beat dem up dat never do what he tell dem to do mighty\nbad en wouldn' be particular bout whe' dey was buried neither. Hear talk\ndat dey bury heap of dem in a big hole down side de woods somewhe'. Cose\nI don' know whe' dat word true or not, but dat what dey tell me.\"\n\n\"Oo--oo--yes, mam, dey sho whip de colored women in dem days. Yes, mam,\nde overseer done it cause I hear dem say dat myself. Tell dat dey take\nde wives en whip de blood out dem en de husband never didn' dare to say\nnothin. Hear dey whip some so bad dey had to grease dem. If de colored\npeople didn' do to suit de white folks, dey sho whip dem. No, mam, if\ndey put you out to work, ain' nobody think dey gwine lay down under de\nbresh (brush) en stay dere widout doin dey portion of work. Yes, child,\nhear bout dat more times, den I got fingers en toes.\"\n\n\"Oh, de times be worser in a way dese days. Yes, mam, dey sho worser in\na way. De people be wiser now den what dey used to be, but dere so much\ngwine on, dey ain' thinkin bout dey welfare no time en dat'll shorten\nanybody days. Oh, honey, we livin in a fast world dese days. Peoples\nused to help one another out more en didn' somebody be tryin to pull you\ndown all de time. When you is found a wicked one in dat day en time, it\nbeen a wicked one. Cose de people be more intelligent in learnin dese\ndays, but I'm tellin you dere a lot of other things got to build you up\n'sides learnin. Dere one can get up to make a speech what ain' got no\nlearnin en dey can just preach de finest kind of speech. Say dey ain'\nknow one thing dey gwine say fore dey get up dere. Folks claim dem kind\nof people been bless wid plenty good mother wit. Den another time one\ndat have de learnin widout de mother wit can get up en seem like dey\njust don' know whe' to place de next word. Yes, mam, I hear dat often.\"\n\n\"What I meant by what I say bout de wicked one? I meant when you found a\nwild one, it been a wild one for true. I mean you better not meddle wid\none like dat cause dey don' never care what dey do. People look like dey\nused to care more for dey lives den dey do dese days. Dat what I meant,\nbut you can weigh dat like you want to. You see, dere be different ways\nfor people to hurt demselves.\"\n\n\"Oh, my soul, hear talk bout dere be ghosts en hants, but I never didn'\nexperience nothin like dat. Yes, mam, I hear too much of dat. Been\nhearin bout dat ever since I been in a manner grown, you may say. I hear\npeople say dey see dem, but I ain' take up no time wid nothin like dat.\nI have a mind like dis, if such a thing be true, it ain' intended for\neverybody to see dem. I gwine tell you far as I know bout it. I hear\ndese old people say when anybody child born wid a caul over dey face,\ndey can always see dem things en dem what ain' born dat way, dey don'\nsee dem. Cose I don' know nothin bout what dat is en I is hate to tell\nit, but I hear lot of people say dey can see hants en ghosts all time of\na night. Yes'um, I hear de older people say dat, but I don' know whe' it\ntrue or no. I know I don' see nothin myself, but de wind. Don' see dat,\nbut I feels it.\"\n\n\"Oh, my God, some people believe in dat thing call conjurin, but I didn'\nnever believe in nothin like dat. Never didn' understand nothin like\ndat. Hear say people could make you leave home en all dat, but I never\ncouldn' see into it. Never didn' believe in it.\"\n\n\"Yes, mam, I see plenty people wear dem dimes round dey ankle en all\nkind of things on dey body, but never didn' see my mother do nothin like\ndat. I gwine tell you it just like I got it. Hear talk dat some would\nwear dem for luck en some tote dem to keep people from hurtin dem. I got\na silver dime in de house dere in my trunk right to dis same day dat I\nused to wear on a string of beads, but I took it off. No, mam, couldn'\nstand nothin like dat. Den some peoples keeps a bag of asafetida tied\nround dey neck to keep off sickness. Folks put it on dey chillun to keep\ndem from havin worms. I never didn' wear none in my life, but I know it\nbeen a good thing for people, especially chillun. Let me see, dere a\nheap of other things dat I learn bout been good for people to wear for\nsickness. Dere been nutmeg dat some people make a hole in en wear it\nround dey neck. I forget whether it been good for neuralgia or some of\ndem other body ailments, but I know it won' for no conjurin.\"\n\n\"Honey, pa always say dat you couldn' expect no more from a child den\nyou puts in dey raisin. Pa say, 'Sylvia, raise up your chillun in de\nright way en dey'll smile on you in your old age.' Honey, I don' see\nwhat dese people gwine expect dey chillun to turn out to be nohow dese\ndays cause dey ain' got no raisin en dey ain' got no manners. I say, I\ngot a feelin for de chillun cause dey parents ain' stay home enough of\ntime to learn dem nothin en dey ain' been know no better. Remember when\nmy parents went off en tell us to stay home, we never didn' darsen to go\noff de place. Den when dey would send us off, we know we had to be back\nin de yard fore sunup in de evenin. Yes, child, we all had to be\nobedient to our parents in dat day en time. I always was sub-obedient\nmyself en I never had no trouble nowhe'. Yes, mam, when we went off\nanywhe', we ax to go en we been back de hour dey expect to see us. Yes,\nmam, chillun was more obedient den. None of us didn' sass us parents.\nWon' raise dat way. I remember when I was young, I used to tote water en\nmake fire to de pot for my mother to wash plenty times. Den dey learn me\nhow to use a hoe en when I was married en left home, won' nothin strange\nto me.\"\n\n\"No, mam, I didn' have no weddin when I was married, but everything was\npleasant en turned out all right. Yes, mam, everybody don' feel so good\nleavin home, but I felt all right, I was married over dere in Bethel M.\nE. Church en served a little cake en wine dere home afterwards en dat\nain' no weddin. Didn' have nothin but pound cake en wine. Had three\nplain cakes. Two was cut up dere home en I remember I carried one wid me\nover Catfish dere to de Reaves place.\"\n\n Source: Sylvia Durant, ex-slave, age about 72, Marion, S. C.\n Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Oct., 1937.","title":"Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews with Former Slaves, Volume XIV, South Carolina Narratives, Part 1","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":97363}