Part 19

"I knows nothin' else to tell you, 'less you would be pleased to hear 'bout what de cyclone did to my old missus and de old Sterling house. Somewhere 'bout 1880's one of them super knockshal (equinoctial) storms come 'long, commencin' over in Alabama or Georgia, crossed de Savannah River, sweep through South Carolina, layin' trees to de ground, cuttin' a path a quarter of a mile wide, as it traveled from west to east. Every house it tech, it carry de planks and shingles and sills and joists 'way wid it. De old Sterling house was in de path. Dere was a big oak tree in de front yard. Old miss and her son, Robert, was dere and Miss Heppie, a granddaughter, was in dat house. De storm hit dat house 'bout 9 o'clock dat night and never left a bit of it, 'cept some of de bricks. Some of de logs and sills was found de nex' day over at de other side of de railroad track. Some of de planks was found six miles east, some of de shingles across Catawba River, 25 miles east, and curious to say, de wind blowed old miss against de big oak tree and kill her. It blowed Miss Heppie in de top of dat tree where she was settin' a cryin' and couldn't git down, and it never harm a hair of Marse Robert's head. Him look 'round for Miss Heppie, couldn't find her, went off to get help, and when they come back, they have to git a ladder from old Mr. Bob Mobley's house to git her down.

"Well, here comes my daughters. I hear one outside but I bet you don't hear a thing. Dats deir steps I hear. Glad for you to meet them. They is mighty fine gals, if I do have to say so. They come up wid good white folks, de Mills'. Marse Jim Mills have family prayer in de mornin' and family prayer befo' they go to bed. Dat was de fust thing wid him and de last thing wid de Mills' family. If all de families do dat way, dere would be de answer to de prayer, 'Dy kingdom come, Dy will be done, on earth, as 'tis in hebben'.

"Well, give me my stick. Here they is. I bids you goodbye and God bless you."

Reference:

Personal interview with Aunt Dolly Haynes, age 91 Arthurtown, S.C.

AUNT DOLLY HAYNES EX-SLAVE, 91 YEARS OLD, ARTHURTOWN S.C.

"I nebber wuz no rockin' chair setter. I ain't nebber had no time to set down and do nuthin'. I wuz born at Euta, South Carolina. We belong to Marse Charlie Baumer. My Ma died and lef four motherless chillun but de missus wuz mighty good to us--call us her chillun. Pa rung de bell on de plantation fur ter wake de slaves up fur to go to de fiel'. My Missus wuz blind but she wuz a mighty kin' lady. Mek de cook bring plate of vittals to see ef it wuz heavy nough for her little chillun.

"After freedom all us moved wid de Marse and Missus to Childs, South Carolina and I mar'd Paul Haynes, who belonged to old Colonel Hampton.

"Paul wanted to preach but nedder of us had no learnin' an' I say to Paul, 'Does you think you got nough learnin' to lead a flock of people? I don' wan' you to git up an' mek me shame.' I tell him to go to de Benedicts an' see what book he needs to study, come by town bring me a pair of broggans for me, 'cause I wuz a-gwine to wuk and he wuz a-gwine to school. For t'ree long years I plowed de farm an' sent Paul to de Benedicts 'til he wuz edicated. De briars cut my legs an' de breshes tore my skirt, but I tuck up de skirt an' plow right on 'til I bought my little farm. Paul bin dead now 'bout twelve years, but he preached right up to de day he died.

"I got a neffu but I lives alone, wen deys some one in de house I puts down and dey picks up--I cleans up and dey tears up. I don' owe nobody nuthin'. Wen de nurvus spells leaves me an' I feels a little strong in de legs I wuks mah garden. I loves to be doin' somethin' to keep clean, 'cause I jes ain't no rockin chair setter".

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, November 11, 1937

Reduced from ---- words Rewritten by ----

LINEY HENDERSON EX-SLAVE, 70 YEARS

"Accordin to de way dey figures up my age, dey say I 70 now en I believes dat right, too, en de government ought to give me somethin. When we was born, de white folks put us chillun age down in de Bible en I know from dat I been 19 years old de year of de shake. Cose I gets clothes give to me, but no help no more den dat en all dis here wood en coal bill put on me. No, mam, ain' got no support to help me out no time. But justice will plum de line some day. I just gwine leave it in de hands of de Lord. Ain' gwine cry over it."

"I tell you, I been wid white folks all my days en I was properly cared for long as I been in dey protection. I suffers now more den I is ever think bout would come to me. Yes, mam, I done raise over 20 head of white chillun. Dat de God truth. I been in de white folks kitchen all my days en if I feel right, I think dey ought to take of me in my old age. I don' brag on myself, but if I could work like I used to, I wouldn' ax nothin from nobody. I had a family of white people to send for me de other week to come en live wid dem en dey would take care of me, but I never had nobody to trust aun' Sallie wid. You see, child, she such a helpless, poor creature just settin dere in dat bed all de time en can' see to do one thing widout I give her my hand. Cose de government helps aun' Sallie, but dat ain' me. En, honey, I ain' even able to stand up en iron, I has dis rheumatism so bad. It hurts me so terrible at night, I has to keep my foots out from under de cover. It a sort of burnin rheumatism like. Yes, mam, it does worry me right smart."

"Oh, my Lord, I was raise down dere to old Dr. Durant plantation. Yes, mam, dem Durants had everything right to dey hand. Never had to want for a glass of water or nothin en didn' none of Dr. Durant's colored people never had no trouble wid de law from de time de law take care to dis. I remember old Massa would always kill his plantation people a cow on de fourth of July en couldn' never count de number of hogs dey would have, dere be so many. Honey, dey would take dem hogs up dis time of de year from out de swamp en put dem in dey fattenin pen. Lord, Lord, de many a time dat I been see dem take bucket on a bucket of milk to dat pen. When my mother was dere helpin dem, dey used to been a week to a time tryin up lard en makin blood puddin en sausage en joinin up ears en things like dat. Yes, mam, all dey plantation niggers what been helpin dat day set for hog killin would eat to de white folks yard. Dey would just put two or three of dese big wash pot out in de yard en full dem up wid backbone en haslets en rice to satisfy dem hungry niggers wid en would bake de corn bread to de Missus kitchen. I mean dey would have hog killin days den, too. Would have dese long old benches settin out dere under de trees to work on--long benches, child. Some days, dey would kill 15 hogs en some days, dey would kill 20 hogs en I mean dey was hogs, not pigs. De number dey would kill would be accordin to how many hands was helpin de day dey pick to kill. You see, dey would kill dem one day en hang dem up en den dey would set de next day to cut dem up. Oh, dey would hang dem up right out to de eyes of everybody en didn' nobody never have no mind to bother nothin. My Lord, couldn' trust to do nothin like dat dese days. En dey had de nicest homemade butter en whip cream dere all de time. Seems like things was just more plentiful en dey was better in dat day en time."

"It just like I tellin you, it de way of de past, everything had to be carried out right on Dr. Durant's plantation. When freedom come here, dere couldn' no head never get dem colored people to leave from dere. Yes, mam, dey great grand-chillun dere carryin on to dis very day. Dem Durant chillun ain' never had to hunt for no hand to do somethin for dem. Yes, mam, my white folks had dey own colored people graveyard what was corn crated in en it still dere right now. When one of de colored people on de plantation would die, dey white folks would be right dere to de funeral. En it de blessed truth, old Dr. Durant had his own carpenters right dere on de plantation to make de corpse boxes en line dem en all dat en dig de graves. Dat was a day, honey, en dat a day gone from here, I say."

"I ain' never been one of dese peck abouts when I was comin on cause I didn' done nothin, but nurse de white folks chillun dat was comin up. Yes, mam, I would go all bout wid de white people. Dey never didn' leave me home. Lord, de chillun what I nurse, dey got seven en eight head of chillun of dey own now. Like I been tellin you, some of dem beg me to come en live wid dem, but my God, I can' struggle wid dem chillun no more after I done wash baby breeches all my best days, so to speak. Yes, my Lord, dem chillun would get dey 10:30 lunch in de mornin en I been get mine, too. Ain' never had to work in de field in all my life. Anybody can tell you dat what know me."

"I has a little boy stayin here wid me en aun' Sallie what was give to me. I don' never think hard of de people for not fussin bout him stayin here cause he helps me so much. No, mam, I know his mother fore she die en he been stayin wid his aun' en she chillun en dey treat him mean. He been raise to himself en he can' stand no other chillun en he come home from school one day en ax me to let him stay here wid me. No, child, he ain' no trouble cause de Lord give me dat child. He can stay out dere in dat yard right by himself en play all day fore he would ever get dirty up."

"Well, I tell you, I don' know hardly what to say bout how de world gwine dese days. I just afraid to say bout it. I know one thing, I used to live better, but President Roosevelt, seem like he tryin to do de right thing. But if I could be de whole judge of de world, I think de best thing would be for de people to be on dey knees en prayin. De people talkin bout fightin all de time en dis here talk bout fightin in de air, dat what got my goat. Might lay down at night sound en wake up in de mornin en find us all in destructiveness. I say, de Lord all what can save dis country."

=Source:= Liney Henderson, age 70, colored, Marion, S.C. Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 1937.

Project #1655 W.W. Dixon Winnsboro, S.C.

JIM HENRY EX-SLAVE 77 YEARS OLD.

Jim Henry lives with his wife, Mary, in a four-room frame house, three miles southeast of Winnsboro, S.C. He owns the house and nine acres of land. He has only one arm, the other having been amputated twenty years ago. He employs a boy to plough, and he and his wife make a living on the property.

"I was born in the Bratton slave quarter, about six miles northeast of Winnsboro. I was born a slave of General John Bratton. He use to tell me I come from 'stinguished stock, dat he bought my father, James, from de Patrick Henry family in Virginia. Dat's de reason my pappy and us took dat name after freedom.

"My mother, Silva, and her mother, was bought from de Rutledge family in Charleston, by General Bratton. My grandfather, on my mother's side, was name Edward Rutledge. No, sir, I don't mean he was a white man; he just ginger-cake color, so my mother say. My pappy say his father was a full-blooded Indian, so, dat makes three bloods in my veins, white folks, Indian folks, and Negro folks. Derefore, us been thrifty like de white man, crafty like de Indians, and hard workin' like de Negroes.

"In slavery time, us lived in one of de nice log houses in de Bratton quarters. Our beds was pole beds, wid wheat straw ticks, and cotton pillows. De Brattons was always sheep raisers, and us had woolen blankets and woolen clothes in de winter. My mother was one of de seamstresses; she make clothes for de slaves. Course, I'm tellin' you what she tell me, mostly. I was too little to 'member much 'bout slavery time. All de little niggers run 'round in deir shirt-tails in summer time; never work any, just hunt for grapes, muscadines, strawberries, chinquapins, hickory nuts, calamus root, slippery elmer (elm) bark, wild cherries, mulberries, and red and black haws, and was as happy as de days was long.

"I just can 'member de Yankees. Don't 'member dat they was so bad. You know they say even de devil ain't as black as he is painted. De Yankees did take off all de mules, cows, hogs, and sheep, and ransack de smoke-house, but they never burnt a thing at our place. Folks wonder at dat. Some say it was 'cause General Bratton was a high 'gree mason.

"While Marse John, who was a Confederate General, was off in de war, us had overseers. They made mother and everybody go to do field. De little chillun was put in charge, in de daytime, wid an old 'mauma', as they called them in them days. Dere was so many, twenty-five or thirty, dat they had to be fed out of doors. At sundown they was 'sembled in a tent, and deir mammies would come and git them and take them home. Dere used to be some scrappin' over de pot liquor dat was brought out in big pans. De little chillun would scrouge around wid deir tin cups and dip into de pan for de bean, pea, or turnip pot liquor. Some funny scraps took place, wid de old mauma tryin' to separate de squallin', pushin', fightin' chillun.

"De overseers was Wade Rawls and a Mr. Timms. After freedom, us moved to Winnsboro, to Dr. Will Bratton's farm near Mt. Zion College. I went to school to Mr. Richardson and Miss Julia Fripp, white teachers employed by northern white people. I got very 'ligious 'bout dat time, but de brand got all rubbed out, when us went to work for Major Woodward. His 'ligion was to play de fiddle, go fox huntin', and ride 'round gittin' Negroes to wear a red shirt and vote de democrat ticket. I went 'long wid him and done my part. They tell a tale on Marse Tom Woodward and I 'spects it's true:

"He was runnin' for some kind of office and was goin', nex' day, up in de dark corner of Fairfield to meet people. Him hear dat a old fellow name Uriah Wright, controlled all de votes at dat box and dat he was a fox hunter to beat de band. He 'quire 'round 'bout Mr. Wright's dogs. He find out dat a dog name 'Ring Smith' was de best 'strike'. Jolly Wright was de name of de cold 'trailer', and Molly Clowney was de fastest dog of de pack. Marse Tom got all dis well in his mind, and nex' day rode up to old Mr. Wright's, 'bout dinner time.

"De old man had just come in from de field. Marse Tom rode up to de gate and say; 'Is dis Dr. Wright?' De old man say: 'Dat's what de people call me 'round here.' Marse Tom say: 'My name is Woodward. I am on my first political legs, and am goin' 'round to see and be seen, if not by everybody, certainly by de most prominent and 'fluential citizens of each section.' Then de old man say: 'Git down. Git down. You are a monstrous likely man. I'll take you in to see Pinky, my wife, and we'll see what she has to say 'bout it.'

"Marse Tom got down off his horse and was a goin' to de house talkin' all de time 'bout crops. Spyin' de dogs lyin' 'round in de shade, him say: 'Dr. Wright, I am a 'culiar man. I love de ladies and admire them much but, if you'll pardon my weakness, a fine hound dog comes nearer perfection, in my eye, than anything our Father in heaven ever made to live on this green earth!'

"'And what do you know 'bout hounds?' Old man Uriah asked, turnin' from de house and followin' Marse Tom to where de dogs was. Marse Tom set down. De whole pack come to where he was, sniffed and smelt him, and wag deir tails in a friendly way. Marse Tom say: 'What is de name of dis dog? Ring Smith, did you say, Doctor? An uncommon fine dog he seems to me. If dere be any truth in signs, he oughta be a good strike.' De old man reply: 'Good strike, did you say? If dere was 5,000 dogs here, I would bet a million dollars dat Ring Smith would open three miles ahead of the best in de bunch. And you might go befo' a trial justice and swear it was a fox, when he opened on de trail.'

"Marse Tom nex' examined de pale black and tan dog, which was Jolly Wright, de coldest trailer. Feelin' his nose and eyein' him all over, he say at last: 'Dr. Wright, I think dis is one of de most remarkable dogs I has ever seen. I would say he is de coldest trailer of your pack?'

"'Coldest, did you say? Why he can smell them after they have been along three or four weeks.' Molly Clowney was nex' picked out by Marse Tom, and come in for his turn. 'Here ought to be de apple of your eyes, Dr. Wright,' say Marse Tom, 'for if I know anything 'bout dogs, this is the swiftest animal dat ever run on four feet. Tell me now, honor bright, can't she out run anything in these parts?'

"'Run, did you say? No. She can't run a bit. But dere ain't a crow nor a turkey buzzard, dat ever crossed de dark corner, dat can hold a candle to her flyin'. I've seen her run under them and outrun deir shadows many times. Dinner is 'bout ready, and I want you to meet Pinky.'

"Marse Tom was took in de house and de old man led him 'round like a fine horse at a show or fair. 'Why, Pinky, he is smart; got more sense than all de candidates put together. He is kin to old preacher Billy Woodward, de smartest man, I heard my daddy say, in Europe, Asia, Africa, North America, or South America.' They say Marse Tom promised befo' he left to pass a bill dat no fence was to be higher than five rails, to suit fox hunters. Then de old man tell Miss Pinky to bring his fiddle, and he played 'De Devil's Dream'. When he finished, Marse Tom grab de fiddle and played: 'Hell Broke Loose In Georgia', wid such power and skill dat de old man, Uriah, hugged Miss Pinky and cut de 'Pigeon Wing' all over de floor. Marse Tom, they say, carry every vote at dat dark corner box.

"I fall in love with Mary Hall. Got her, slick as a fox. Us had ten chillun. Eight is livin'. Robert is at de Winnsboro Cotton Mills. Ed in de same place. Estelle marry a Ford, and has some land near Winnsboro. Maggie marry a Pickett. Her husband took her to Washington. John Wesley is at Greensboro. Florence marry a Barber and lives in Winston Salem, N.C. Charley is in Winnsboro. Corinne marry a McDuff and is in Winnsboro.

"Mighty glad to talk to you, and will come some day and try to bring you a 'possum. You say you would like to have one 'bout Thanksgivin' Day?"

Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 June 1, 1937

Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"Yas Sir, my ole Marster had lots o' land, a big plantation down at Lockhart whar I was born, called de Herndon Plantation. Den he live in a big house jes' outside o' Union, called 'Herndon Terrace', and 'sides dat, he was de biggest lawyer dat was in Union.

"Furs' 'membrance was at de age o' three when as yet I couldn't walk none. My mother cooked some gingerbread. She told de chilluns to go down a hill and git her some oak bark. De furs' one back wid de bark 'ud git de furs' gingerbread cake dat was done. My sister sot me down, a sliding down de side o' her laag, atter she had carried me wid her down de side o' de hill. Dem big chaps started to fooling time away. I grab up some bark in my hand and went toddling and a crawling up to de house. My mother seed me a crawling and toddling, and she took de bark out'n my hand and let me pull up to de do'. She cook de gingerbread, and when de other chilluns got back, I was a setting up eating de furs' cake.

"She put gingerbread dough in a round oven dat had laags on hit. It looked like a skillet, but it never had no handle. It had a lid to go on de top wid a groove to hold live coals. Live coals went under it, too. Mother wanted oak chips and bark, 'cause dey made sech good hot coals and clean ashes.

"Pots biled in de back o' de chimney, a hanging from a pot rack over de blazing fire. It had pot hooks to git it down.

"Bread was cooked in a baker like de ginger cake was. Dey roasted both kinds o' 'taters in de ashes and made corn bread in de ashes and called it ash cake, den.