Part 11

I wont nuthin' in slavery time and I aint nuthin' now. All de work I am able ter do now is a little work in de garden. Dey say I is too ole ter work, so charity gives me a little ter go upon every week. For one weeks 'lowance o' sumptin' ter eat dey gives me, hold on, I will show you, dat beats guessin'. Here it is: 1/2 peck meal (corn meal), 2 lbs oat meal, 2 lb dry skim milk, and 1 lb plate meat. Dis is what I gits fer one week 'lowance. I can't work much, but de white folks gib me meals fur washin' de woodwork in dere houses, de white folks in Hayes's Bottom. What little I do, I does fer him. He gives me meals for workin'. De charity gives me about 80 cts worth o' rations a week.

I wus seven years old when de Yankees come through. All de niggers 'cept me an' de white folks ran to de woods. I didn't have sense enough ter run, so I stayed on de porch where dey were passin' by. One of 'em pointed his gun at me. I remember it as well as it was yisterday. Yes sir, I seed de Yankees and I remember de clothes dey wore. Dey were blue and dere coats had capes on' em and large brass buttons. De niggers and white folks were afraid of' em. De ole house where dey came by, an' me on de porch is still standin', yes sir, and dey are livin' in it now. It belongs to Ralph Crowder, and he has a fellow by de name o' Edward, a colored man, livin' dere now. De house is de udder side o' Swift Creek, right at Rands Mill. I belonged ter ole man William Crowder durin' slavery, Tom Crowder's daddy. Ralph is Tom's son. My missus wus named Miss Melvina an' if I lives ter be a hundred years old I will never forget dem white folks. Yes sir, dey shore wus good ter us. We had good food, good clothes and a good place ter sleep.

My mother died before de war, but Miss Melvina wus so good ter us we didn't know so much difference. Mother wus de first person I remember seein' dead. When she died Miss Melvina, marster's wife, called us chillun in and says, 'Chillun your mother is dead, but anything in dis kitchen you wants ter eat go take it, but don't slip nuthin'. If you slip it you will soon be stealin' things.' I had four brothers and one sister, and none of us never got into trouble 'bout stealin'. She taught us ter let other people's things alone.

My father wus named Waddy Crowder. My mother wus named Neelie Crowder. Grandpa was named Jacob Crowder and grandma was named Sylvia Crowder. I know dem jist as good as if it wus yisterday.

Never went ter school a day in my life. I can't read an' write. Dey would not 'low slaves ter have books, no sir reee, no, dat dey wouldn't. We went wid de white folks to church; dey were good ter us, dat's de truth. Dere aint many people dat knows 'bout dem good times. Dey had a lot o' big dinners and when de white folks got through I would go up and eat all I wanted.

I 'member choppin' cotton on Clabber branch when I wus a little boy before de surrender. When de surrender come I didn't like it. Daddy an' de udders didn't like it, 'cause after de surrender dey had to pay marster fer de meat an' things. Before dat dey didn't have nuthin' to do but work. Dere were eight slaves on de place in slavery time. Clabber branch run into Swift Creek. Lord have mercy, I have caught many a fish on dat branch. I also piled brush in de winter time. Birds went in de brush ter roost. Den we went bird blindin'. We had torches made o' lightwood splinters, and brushes in our han's, we hit de piles o' brush after we got 'round 'em. When de birds come out we would kill 'em. Dere were lots o' birds den. We killed' em at night in the sage fields[5] where broom grass was thick. Dem were de good times. No sich times now. We killed robins, doves, patridges and other kinds o' birds. Dey aint no such gangs o' birds now. We briled 'em over coals o' fire and fried 'em in fryin' pans, and sometimes we had a bird stew, wid all de birds we wanted. De stew wus de bes' o' all. Dere aint no sich stews now. We put flour in de stew. It was made into pastry first, and we called it slick. When we cooked chicken wid it we called it chicken slick.

Dere were no overseers on our plantation. Marster wouldn't let you have any money on Sunday. He would not trade on Sunday. He would not handle money matters on Monday, but 'ceptin' dese two days if you went to him he would keep you. He was who a good ole man. Dat's de truf.

The Ku Klux would certainly work on you. If dey caught you out of your place dey would git wid you. I don't remember anything 'bout de Freedman's Bureau but de Ku Klux Klan was something all niggers wus scared of. Yes sir, dey would get wid you. Dats right. Ha! Ha! Dat's right.

I never seen a slave whupped, no sir, I never see a slave sold. I saw de speculators do'. I saw de patterollers, but dey didn't never whup my daddy. Dey run him one time, but dey couldn't cotch him. Marster Crowder allus give daddy a pass when he asked fer it.

I believe ole marster an' ole missus went right on ter Heaven, Yes, I do believe dat. Dat's de truf. Yes, my Lawd, I would like to see' em right now. Dere is only one o' de old crowd livin', an' dat is Miss Cora. She stays right here in Raleigh.

We used to have candy pullin's, an' I et more ash cakes den anybody. We cooked ash cakes out o' meal. We had dances in de winter time, and other plays. I played marbles an' runnin' an' jumpin' when I wus a chile. Dey give us sasafrac tea sweetened to eat wid bread. It shore wus mighty good. My father never married enny more. He settled right down after de war and farmed fer his old marster and all we chillun stayed. We didn't want ter leave, an' I would be wid 'em right now if dey wus livin'.

I got married when I wus 21 years old, and moved ter myself in a little house on de plantation. De house is standin' dere now, de house where I lived den. I seed it de udder day when I went out dere to clean off my wife's grave. I married Lula Hatcher. She died 'bout ten years ago. I married her in Georgia. I stayed dere a long time when missus' brother, Wiley Clemmons, went ter Georgia ter run turpentine an' tuck me wid him. I stayed dere till he died; an' Mr. Tom Crowder went after him an' brought him back home an' buried him at de ole home place. He is buried right dere at de Crowder place.

I have worked wid some o' de Crowders mos' all my life and I miss dem people, when one of 'em dies. Dey allus give my daddy outside patches, and he made good on it. He cleaned up seven acres, and do you know how he fenced it? Wid nuthin' but bresh. An' hogs an' cows didn't go in dere neither. We had lots o' game ter eat. Marster 'lowed my daddy ter hunt wid a gun, and he killed a lot o' rabbits, squirrels, an' game. We trapped birds an' caught rabbits in boxes. Daddy caught possums an' coons wid dogs. One o' my brothers is livin' at Garner, N. C. I am four years older den he is. From what little judgment I got I thought a right smart o' Abraham Lincoln, but I tells you de truf Mr. Roosevelt has done a lot o' good. Dats de truf. I likes him.

[Footnote 5: The Negroes call the tall grass sage.]

AC

N. C. District: No. 2 [320243] Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 585 Subject: ADELINE CRUMP Story Teller: Adeline Crump Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

ADELINE CRUMP 526 Cannon Street

My name is Adeline Crump, and I am 73 years old. My husband's name wus James Crump. My mother's wus Marie Cotton and my father's name wus Cotton. My mother belonged to the Faucetts; Rich Faucett wus her marster. Father belonged to the Cottons; Wright Cotton wus his marster. My maiden name wus Cotton. Mother and father said they were treated all right and that they loved their white folks. They gave them patches, clothed them tolerably well, and seed that they got plenty to eat. The hours of work wus long. Nearbout everybody worked long hours then, but they said they wus not mistreated 'bout nothing. When they got sick marster got a doctor, if they wus bad off sick.

They wus allowed holidays Christmas and at lay-by time, an' they wus 'lowed to hunt possums an' coons at night an' ketch rabbits in gums. They also caught birds in traps made of splinters split from pine wood.

Mother and father had no learnin'. They would not allow them to learn to read and write. Marster wus keerful 'bout that. I cannot read an' write. My mother and father told me many stories 'bout the patterollers and Ku Klux. A nigger better have a pass when he went visitin' or if they caught him they tore up his back. The Ku Klux made the niggers think they could drink a well full of water. They carried rubber things under their clothes and a rubber pipe leadin' to a bucket o' water. The water bag helt the water they did not drink it. Guess you have heard people tell 'bout they drinking so much water.

Marster didn't have no overseers to look after his slaves. He done that hisself with the help o' some o' his men slaves. Sometimes he made 'em foreman and my mother and father said they all got along mighty fine. The colored folks went to the white folk's church and had prayer meeting in their homes.

Mother lived in the edge o' marster's yard. When the surrender come after the war they stayed on the plantation right on and lived on marster's land. They built log houses after de war cause marster let all his slaves stay right on his plantation. My mother had twenty-one chillun. She had twins five times. I was a twin and Emaline wus my sister. She died 'bout thirty years ago. She left 11 chillun when she died. I never had but four chillun. All my people are dead, I is de only one left.

Marster's plantation was 'bout six miles from Merry Oaks in Chatham County. We moved to Merry Oaks when I wus fourteen years old. I married at seventeen. I have lived in North Carolina all my life. We moved to Raleigh from Merry Oaks long time ago. My husband died here seventeen years ago. I worked after my husband died, washin' and ironin' for white folks till I am not able to work no more. Hain't worked any in fo' years. Charity don't help me none. My chillun gives me what I gits.

Slavery wus a bad thing, cause from what mother and father tole me all slaves didn't fare alike. Some fared good an' some bad. I don't know enough 'bout Abraham Lincoln an' Mr. Roosevelt to talk about 'em. No, I don't know just what to say. I sho' hopes you will quit axin' me so many things cause I forgot a lot mother and father tole me.

N. C. District: No. 2 [320232] Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 844 Subject: BILL CRUMP Person Interviewed: Bill Crump Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: No Date Stamp]

[HW: "photo"]

BILL CRUMP Ex-Slave Story

An interview with Bill Crump, 82 of State prison, Raleigh North Carolina.

I reckon dat I wus borned in Davidson County on de plantation of Mr. Whitman Smith, my mammy's marster.

My daddy wus named Tom an' he 'longed ter Mr. Ben Murry fust an' later ter Mr. Jimmy Crump. Daddy wus named atter his young marster. Dey lived in Randolph, de county next ter Davidson whar me mammy an' de rest of de chilluns, Alt, George, Harriet, Sarah, Mary an' de baby libed.

Both of de marsters wus good ter us, an' dar wus plenty ter eat an' w'ar, an' right many jubilees. We ain't none of de dozen er so of us eber got a whuppin', case we ain't desarved no whuppin'; why, dar wusn't eben a cowhide whup anywhar on de place. We wucked in de fie'ls from sunup ter sundown mos' o' de time, but we had a couple of hours at dinner time ter swim or lay on de banks uv de little crick an' sleep. Ober 'bout sundown marster let us go swim ag'in iff'en we wanted ter do it.

De marster let us have some chickens, a shoat an' a gyarden, an' 'tater patch, an' we had time off ter wuck 'em. In season we preserved our own fruits fer de winter an' so we larned not ter be so heaby on de marster's han's.

My daddy wus a fiddler, an' he sometimes played fer de dances at de Cross Roads, a little village near de marster's place. All what ain't been mean could go, but de mean ones can't, an' de rest o' us has ter habe a pass ter keep de patterollers from gittin us.

Yes mam, we had our fun at de dances, co'n chuckin's, candy pullin's, an' de gatherin's an' we sarbed de marster better by habin' our fun.

I'se seed a bunch o' slaves sold a heap of times an' I neber seed no chains on nobody. Dey jist stood dem on de table front of de post office at Cross Roads an' sol' 'em ter de one what bids de highes'.

We hyard a whisper 'bout some slaves bein' beat ter death, but I ain't neber seed a slave git a lick of no kin', course atter de war I seed de Ku Klux runnin' mean niggers.

Dar wus no marryin' on de plantation, iffen a nigger wants a 'oman he has got ter buy her or git her marster's permit, den dey am married.

When one o' de slaves wus sick he had a doctor fast as lightnin', an' when de died he wus set up wid one night. De marster would gibe de mourners a drink o' wine mebbe, an' dey'd mo'n, an' shout, an' sing all de night long, while de cop'se laid out on de coolin' board, which 'minds me of a tale.

Onct we wus settin' up wid a nigger, 'fore de war an' hit bein' a hot night de wine wus drunk an' de mo'ners wus settin' front o' de do' eatin' watermillons while de daid man laid on de coolin' board. Suddenly one of de niggers looks back in at de do', an' de daid man am settin' up on de coolin' board lookin right at him. De man what sees hit hollers, an' all de rest what has been wishin 'dat de daid man can enjoy de wine an' de watermillons am sorry dat he has comed back.

Dey doan take time ter say hit do', case dey am gone ter de big house. De marster am brave so he comes ter see, an' he says dat hit am only restrictions o' de muscles.

De nex' mornin', as am de way, dey puts de man in a pine box made by 'nother slave an' dey totes him from de cabin ter de marster's buryin' groun' at de cedars; an' de slaves bury's him while de marster an' his fambly looks on.

I doan know much 'bout de Yankees case de warn't none 'cept de skirtin'

## parties comed our way.

Atter de war we stays on fer four or five years mebbe, an' I goes ter school two weeks. De teacher wus Mr. Edmund Knights from de No'th.

I'se sarbed four years an' ten months of a eight ter twelve stretch fer killin' a man. Dis man an' a whole gang o' us wus at his house gamblin'. I had done quit drinkin' er mont' er so 'fore dat, but dey 'sists on hit, but I 'fuses. Atter 'while he pours some on me an' I cusses him, den he cusses me, an' he says dat he am gwine ter kill me, an' he follers me down de road. I turns roun' an' shoots him.

Dat am all of my story 'cept dat I has seen a powerful heap of ghostes an' I knows dat dey comes in white an' black, an' dat dey am in de shape er dogs, mens, an' eber'thing dat you can have a mind to.

LE

N. C. District: No. 2. [320148] Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 652 Subject: CHARLIE CRUMP Person Interviewed: Charlie Crump Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date Stamp "--- 11 1937"]

CHARLIE CRUMP Ex-Slave Story

An interview with Charlie Crump 82 of Cary (near)

I wuz borned at Evan's Ferry in Lee or Chatham County, an' I belonged ter Mr. Davis Abernathy an' his wife Mis' Vick. My pappy wuz named Ridge, an' my mammy wuz named Marthy. My brothers wuz Stokes an' Tucker, an' my sisters wuz Lula an' Liddy Ann. Dar wuz nine o' us in all, but some o' dem wuz sold, an' some o' dem wuz dead.

De Abernathy's wuzn't good ter us, we got very little ter eat, nothin' ter wear an' a whole lot o' whuppin's. Dey ain't had no slaves 'cept seben or eight, in fact, dey wuz pore white trash tryin' ter git rich; so dey make us wuck.

Dey wucks us from daylight till dark, an' sometimes we jist gits one meal a day. De marster says dat empty niggers am good niggers an' dat full niggers has got de debil in dem. An' we ain't 'lowed ter go nowhar at night, dat is if dey knowed it. I'se seed de time dat niggers from all ober de neighborhood gang up an' have fun anyhow, but if dey hyard de patterollers comin' gallopin' on a hoss dey'd fly. Crap shootin' wuz de style den, but a heap of times dey can't find nothin ter bet.

I toted water, case dat's all I wuz big enough ter do, an' lemmie tell yo' dat when de war wuz ober I ain't had nary a sprig of hair on my haid, case de wooden buckets what I toted on it wored it plumb off.

When we got hongry an' could fin' a pig, a calf or a chicken, no matter who it had belonged to, it den belonged ter us. We raised a heap o' cane an' we et brown sugar. Hit 's funny dat de little bit dey gibed us wuz what dey now calls wholesome food, an' hit shore make big husky niggers.

My mammy had more grit dan any gal I now knows of has in her craw. She plowed a hateful little donkey dat wuz about as hongry as she wuz, an' he wuz a cuss if'en dar eber wuz one. Mammy wuz a little brown gal, den, tough as nails an' she ain't axin' dat donkey no odds at all. She uster take him out at twelve an' start fer de house an' dat donkey would hunch up his back an' swear dat she wuzn't gwine ter ride him home. Mammy would swear dat she would, an' de war would be on. He'd throw her, but she'd git back on an' atter she'd win de fight he'd go fer de house as fast as a scaulded dog.

When we hyard dat de Yankees wuz comin' we wuz skeerd, case Marse Abernathy told us dat dey'd skin us alive. I'members hit wuz de last o' April or de fust o' May when dey comed, an' I had started fer de cane fil' wid a bucket o' water on my haid, but when I sees dem Yankees comin' I draps de bucket an' runs.

De folks thar 'bouts burnt de bridge crost de ribber, but de Yankees carried a rope bridge wid 'em, so dey crossed anyhow.

Dem Yankees tuck eber thing dat dey saw eben to our kush, what we had cooked fer our supper. Kush wuz cornmeal, onions, red pepper, salt an' grease, dat is if we had any grease. Dey killed all de cows, pigs, chickens an' stold all de hosses an' mules.

We wuz glad ter be free, an' lemmie tell yo', we shore cussed ole marster out 'fore we left dar; den we comed ter Raleigh. I'se always been a farmer an' I'se made right good. I lak de white folkses an' dey laks me but I'll tell yo' Miss, I'd ruther be a nigger any day dan to be lak my ole white folks wuz.

M. A. H. L. E.

N. C. District: No. 2 [320050] Worker: Mary Hicks No. Words: 10,018 Subject: BEFORE AND AFTER THE WAR Story Teller: MATTIE CURTIS Editor: George L. Andrews

[HW: 8/31/37]

BEFORE AND AFTER THE WAR

An interview with Mattie Curtis, 98 years old, of Raleigh, North Carolina, Route # 4.

I wus borned on de plantation of Mr. John Hayes in Orange County ninety-eight years ago. Seberal of de chilluns had been sold 'fore de speculator come an' buyed mammy, pappy an' we three chilluns. De speculator wus named Bebus an' he lived in Henderson, but he meant to sell us in de tobacco country.

We come through Raleigh an' de fust thing dat I 'members good wus goin' through de paper mill on Crabtree. We traveled on ter Granville County on de Granville Tobacco path till a preacher named Whitfield buyed us. He lived near de Granville an' Franklin County line, on de Granville side.

Preacher Whitfield, bein' a preacher, wus supposed to be good, but he ain't half fed ner clothed his slaves an' he whupped 'em bad. I'se seen him whup my mammy wid all de clothes offen her back. He'd buck her down on a barrel an' beat de blood outen her. Dar wus some difference in his beatin' from de neighbors. De folks round dar 'ud whup in de back yard, but Marse Whitfield 'ud have de barrel carried in his parlor fer de beatin'.

We ain't had no sociables, but we went to church on Sunday an' dey preached to us dat we'd go ter hell alive iffen we sassed our white folks.

Speakin' 'bout clothes, I went as naked as Yo' han' till I wus fourteen years old. I wus naked like dat when my nature come to me. Marse Whitfield ain't carin', but atter dat mammy tol' him dat I had ter have clothes.

Marse Whitfield ain't never pay fer us so finally we wus sold to Mis' Fanny Long in Franklin County. Dat 'oman wus a debil iffen dar eber wus one. When I wus little I had picked up de fruit, fanned flies offen de table wid a peafowl fan an' nussed de little slave chilluns. De las' two or three years I had worked in de fiel' but at Mis' Long's I worked in de backer factory.