Part 6

The porch was littered with old planks and huge tubs and barrels of stagnant water. There was only room for one chair and in that sat a tall Negro woman clad in burlap bags and in her lap she held a small white flea-bitten dog which growled meaningly.

When I reached the gate, which swings on one rusty hinge, she bade me come in and the Carolina Power and Light Company men, who were at work nearby, laughed as I climbed over the limbs and garbage and finally found room for one foot on the porch and one on the ground.

"I wus borned in Mount Airy de year 'fore de Yankees come, bein' de fourth of five chilluns. My mammy an' daddy Minerva Jane an' Wesley 'longed ter Mr. Mack Strickland an' we lived on his big place near Mount Airy."

"Mr. Mack wus good ter us, dey said. He give us enough ter eat an' plenty of time ter weave clothes fer us ter wear. I've hearn mammy tell of de corn shuckin's an' dances dey had an' 'bout some whuppin's too."

"Marse Mack's overseer, I doan know his name, wus gwine ter whup my mammy onct, an' pappy do' he ain't neber make no love ter mammy comes up an' takes de whuppin' fer her. Atter dat dey cou'ts on Sadday an' Sunday an' at all de sociables till dey gits married."

"I'se hearn her tell' bout how he axed Marse Mack iffen he could cou't mammy an' atter Marse Mack sez he can he axes her ter marry him."

"She tells him dat she will an' he had 'em married by de preacher de nex' time he comes through dat country."

"I growed up on de farm an' when I wus twelve years old I met Thomas Bell. My folks said dat I wus too young fer ter keep company so I had ter meet him 'roun' an' about fer seberal years, I think till I wus fifteen."

"He axed me ter marry him while he wus down on de creek bank a fishin' an' I tol' him yes, but when he starts ter kiss me I tells him dat der's many a slip twixt de cup an' de lip an' so he has ter wait till we gits married."

"We runned away de nex' Sadday an' wus married by a Justice of de Peace in Mount Airy."

"Love ain't what hit uster be by a long shot," de ole woman reflected, "'Cause dar ain't many folks what loves all de time. We moved ter Raleigh forty years ago, an' Tom has been daid seberal years now. We had jest one chile but hit wus borned daid."

"Chilluns ain't raised ter be clean lak we wus. I knows dat de house ain't so clean but I doan feel so much lak doin' nothin', I jest went on a visit 'bout seben blocks up de street dis mo'nin' an' so I doan feel lak cleanin' up none."

I cut the interview short thereby missing more facts, as the odor was anything but pleasant and I was getting tired of standing in that one little spot.

"Thank you for comin'", she called, and her dog growled again.

N. C. District: No. 2 [320111] Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 1153 Subject: EMMA BLALOCK Story Teller: Emma Blalock Editor: Geo. L. Andrews

[TR: Date Stamp "AUG 6 1937"]

EMMA BLALOCK 88 years old 529 Bannon Avenue Raleigh, N. C.

I shore do 'member de Yankees wid dere blue uniforms wid brass buttons on 'em. I wus too small to work any but I played in de yard wid my oldes' sister, Katie. She is dead long ago. My mother belonged to ole man John Griffith an' I belonged to him. His plantation wus down here at Auburn in Wake County. My father wus named Edmund Rand. He belonged to Mr. Nat Rand. He lived in Auburn. De plantations wus not fur apart. Dere wus about twenty-five slaves on de plantation whur mother an' me stayed.

Marse John used ter take me on his knee an' sing, 'Here is de hammer, Shing ding. Gimme de Hammer, shing ding.' Marster loved de nigger chilluns on his plantation. When de war ended father come an' lived with us at Marse John's plantation. Marster John Griffith named me Emmy. My grandfather on my fathers side wus named Harden Rand, an' grandmother wus named Mason Rand. My grandfather on my mother's side wus named Antny Griffiths an' grandmother wus named Nellie.

Our food wus a plenty and well cooked. Marster fed his niggers good. We had plenty of homespun dresses and we got shoes once a year, at Christmas Eve. I ken 'member it just as good. We got Christmas Holidays an' a stockin' full of candy an' peanuts. Sometimes we got ginger snaps at Christmas. My grandmother cooked' em. She wus a good cook. My mother's missus wus Miss Jetsy Griffith and my father's missus wus Lucy Rand. Dey wus both mighty good women. You know I am ole. I ken 'member all dem good white folks. Dey give us Fourth July Holidays. Dey come to town on dat day. Dey wore, let me tell you what dey wore, dey wore dotted waist blouses an' white pants. Dat wus a big day to ever'body, de Fourth of July. Dey begun singing at Auburn an' sung till dey reached Raleigh. Auburn is nine miles from Raleigh. Dere wus a lot of lemonade. Dey made light bread in big ovens an' had cheese to eat wid it. Some said just goin' on de fofe to git lemonade an' cheese.

In the winter we had a lot of possums to eat an' a lot of rabbits too. At Christmas time de men hunted and caught plenty game. We barbecued it before de fire. I 'members seein' mother an' grandmother swinging rabbits 'fore de fire to cook 'em. Dey would turn an' turn 'em till dey wus done. Dey hung some up in de chimbly an' dry 'em out an' keep 'em a long time an' dat is de reason I won't eat a rabbit today. No Sir! I won't eat a rabbit. I seed 'em mess wid 'em so much turned me 'ginst eatin' 'em.

I don't know how much lan' Marster John owned but, Honey, dat wus some plantation. It reached from Auburn to de Neuse River. Yes Sir, it did, 'cause I been down dere in corn hillin' time an' we fished at twelve o'clock in Neuse River. Marster John had overseers. Dere wus six of 'em. Dey rode horses over de fields but I don't 'member dere names.

I never seen a slave whupped but dey wus whupped on de plantation an' I heard de grown folks talkin' 'bout it. My uncles Nat an' Bert Griffiths wus both whupped. Uncle Nat would not obey his missus rules an' she had him whupped. Dey whupped Uncle Bert 'cause he stayed drunk so much. He loved his licker an' he got drunk an' cut up bad, den dey whupped him. You could git plenty whiskey den. Twon't like it is now. No sir, it won't. Whiskey sold fur ten cents a quart. Most ever' body drank it but you hardly ever seed a man drunk. Slaves wus not whupped for drinkin'. Dere Marsters give 'em whiskey but dey wus whupped for gittin' drunk. Dere wus a jail, a kind of stockade built of logs, on de farm to put slaves in when dey wouldn't mind. I never say any slave put on de block an' sold, but I saw Aunt Helen Rand cryin' because her Marster Nat Rand sold her boy, Fab Rand.

No Sir, no readin' an' writin'. You had to work. Ha! ha! You let your marster or missus ketch you wid a book. Dat wus a strict rule dat no learnin' wus to be teached. I can't read an' write. If it wus not fur my mother wit don't know what would become of me. We had prayer meetings around at de slave houses. I 'member it well. We turned down pots on de inside of de house at de door to keep marster an' missus from hearin' de singin' an' prayin'. Marster an' his family lived in de great house an' de slave quarters wus 'bout two hundred yards away to the back of de great house. Dey wus arranged in rows. When de war ended we all stayed on wid de families Griffiths an' Rands till dey died, dat is all 'cept my father an' me. He lef' an' I lef'. I been in Raleigh forty-five years. I married Mack Blalock in Raleigh. He been dead seven years.

My mother had two boys, Antny an' Wesley. She had four girls, Katie, Grissie, Mary Ella an' Emma. I had three chilluns, two are livin' yet. They both live in Raleigh.

We had big suppers an' dinners at log rollin's an' corn shuckin's in slavery time ha! ha! plenty of corn licker for ever'body, both white an' black. Ever'body helped himself. Dr. Tom Busbee, one good ole white man, looked after us when we got sick, an' he could make you well purty quick, 'cause he wus good an' 'cause he wus sorry fer you. He wus a feelin' man. Course we took erbs. I tell you what I took. Scurrey grass, chana balls dey wus for worms. Scurrey grass worked you out. Dey give us winter green to clense our blood. We slaves an' a lot of de white folks drank sassafras tea in de place of coffee. We sweetened it wid brown sugar, honey, or molasses, just what we had in dat line. I think slavery wus a right good thing. Plenty to eat an' wear.

When you gits a tooth pulled now it costs two dollars, don't it? Well in slavery time I had a tooth botherin' me. My mother say, Emma, take dis egg an' go down to Doctor Busbee an' give it to him an' git your tooth pulled. I give him one egg. He took it an' pulled my tooth. Try dat now, if you wants to an' see what happens. Yes, slavery wus a purty good thing.

N. C. District: No. 2 [320165] Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 1430 Subject: Days on the Plantation Person Interviewed: Uncle David Blount Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date Stamp "JUN 1 1937"]

[HW: N. C. Good general story--]

[HW: Good story Hates the Yankees boy beaten by overseer who is later discharged; slaves make pact with Yankees]

DAYS ON THE PLANTATION

As told by Uncle David Blount, formerly of Beaufort County, who did not know his age. "De Marster" he refers to was Major Wm. A. Blount, who owned plantations in several parts of North Carolina.

Yes mam, de days on de plantation wuz de happy days. De marster made us wuck through de week but on Sadays we uster go swimmin' in de riber an' do a lot of other things dat we lak ter do.

We didn't mind de wuck so much case de ground wuz soft as ashes an' de marster let us stop and rest when we got tired. We planted 'taters in de uplan's and co'n in de lowgroun's nex' de riber. It wuz on de Cape Fear an' on hot days when we wuz a-pullin' de fodder we'd all stop wuck 'bout three o'clock in de ebenin' an' go swimmin'. Atter we come out'n de water we would wuck harder dan eber an' de marster wuz good to us, case we did wuck an' we done what he ast us.

I 'members onct de marster had a oberseer dar dat wuz meaner dan a mean nigger. He always hired good oberseers an' a whole lot of times he let some Negro slave obersee. Well, dis oberseer beat some of de half grown boys till de blood run down ter dar heels an' he tole de rest of us dat if we told on him dat he'd kill us. We don't dasen't ast de marster ter git rid of de man so dis went on fer a long time.

It wuz cold as de debil one day an' dis oberseer had a gang of us a-clearin' new groun'. One boy ast if he could warm by de bresh heap. De oberseer said no, and atter awhile de boy had a chill. De oberseer don't care, but dat night de boy am a sick nigger. De nex' mornin' de marster gits de doctor, an' de doctor say dat de boy has got pneumonia. He tells 'em ter take off de boys shirt an' grease him wid some tar, turpentine, an' kerosene, an' when dey starts ter take de shirt off dey fin's dat it am stuck.

Dey had ter grease de shirt ter git it off case de blood whar de oberseer beat him had stuck de shirt tight ter de skin. De marster wuz in de room an' he axed de boy how come it, an' de boy tole him.

De marster sorta turns white an' he says ter me, 'Will yo' go an' ast de oberseer ter stop hyar a minute, please?'

When de oberseer comes up de steps he axes sorta sassy-like, 'What yo' want?'

De marster says, 'Pack yo' things an' git off'n my place as fast as yo' can, yo' pesky varmit.'

De oberseer sasses de marster some more, an' den I sees de marster fairly loose his temper for de first time. He don't say a word but he walks ober, grabs de oberseer by de shoulder, sets his boot right hard 'ginst de seat of his pants an' sen's him, all drawed up, out in de yard on his face. He close up lak a umbrella for a minute den he pulls hisself all tergether an' he limps out'n dat yard an' we ain't neber seed him no more.

No mam, dar wuzent no marryin' on de plantation dem days, an' as one ole 'oman raised all of de chilluns me an' my brother Johnnie ain't neber knowed who our folkses wuz. Johnnie wuz a little feller when de war ended, but I wuz in most of de things dat happen on de plantation fer a good while.

One time dar, I done fergit de year, some white mens comes down de riber on a boat an' dey comes inter de fiel's an' talks ter a gang of us an' dey says dat our masters ain't treatin' us right. Dey tells us dat we orter be paid fer our wuck, an' dat we hadn't ort ter hab passes ter go anywhar. Dey also tells us dat we ort ter be allowed ter tote guns if we wants 'em. Dey says too dat sometime our marsters was gwine ter kill us all.

I laughs at 'em, but some of dem fool niggers listens ter 'em; an' it 'pears dat dese men gib de niggers some guns atter I left an' promised ter bring 'em some more de nex' week.

I fin's out de nex' day 'bout dis an' I goes an' tells de marster. He sorta laughs an' scratches his head, 'Dem niggers am headed fer trouble, Dave, 'he says ter me, 'an I wants yo' ter help me.'

I says, 'Yas sar, marster.'

An' he goes on, 'Yo' fin's out when de rest of de guns comes Dave, an' let me know.'

When de men brings back de guns I tells de marster, an' I also tells him dat dey wants ter hold er meetin'.

'All right,' he says an' laughs, 'dey can have de meetin'. Yo' tell 'em, Dave, dat I said dat dey can meet on Chuesday night in de pack house.'

Chuesday ebenin' he sen's dem all off to de low groun's but me, an' he tells me ter nail up de shutters ter de pack house an' ter nail 'em up good.

I does lak he tells me ter do an' dat night de niggers marches in an' sneaks dar guns in too. I is lyin' up in de loft an' I hyars dem say dat atter de meetin' dey is gwine ter go up ter de big house an' kill de whole fambly.

I gits out of de winder an' I runs ter de house an tells de marster. Den me an' him an' de young marster goes out an' quick as lightnin', I slams de pack house door an' I locks it. Den de marster yells at dem, 'I'se got men an' guns out hyar, he yells, 'an' if yo' doan throw dem guns out of de hole up dar in de loft, an' throw dem ebery one out I'se gwine ter stick fire ter dat pack house.'

De niggers 'liberates for a few minutes an' den dey throws de guns out. I knows how many dey has got so I counts till dey throw dem all out, den I gathers up dem guns an' I totes 'em off ter de big house.

Well sar, we keeps dem niggers shet up fer about a week on short rations; an' at de end of dat time dem niggers am kyored for good. When dey comes out dey had three oberseers 'stid of one, an' de rules am stricter dan eber before; an' den de marster goes off ter de war.

I reckon I was 'bout fifteen or sixteen den; an' de marster car's me 'long fer his pusonal sarvant an' body guard an' he leabes de rest of dem niggers in de fiel's ter wuck like de dickens while I laughs at dem Yankees.

Jim belonged to Mr. Harley who lived in New Hanover County during de war, in fac' he was young Massa Harley's slave; so when young Massa Tom went to de war Jim went along too.

Dey wuz at Manassas, dey tells me, when Massa Tom got kilt, and de orders wuz not to take no bodies off de field right den.

Course ole massa down near Wilmington, doan know 'bout young Massa Tom, but one night dey hears Jim holler at de gate. Dey goes runnin' out; an' Jim has brung Massa Tom's body all dat long ways home so dat he can be buried in de family burian ground.

De massa frees Jim dat night; but he stays on a time atter de war, an' tell de day he died he hated de Yankees for killing Massa Tom. In fact we all hated de Yankees, 'specially atter we hear 'bout starve dat first winter. I tried ter make a libin' fer me an' Johnnie but it was bad goin'; den I comes ter Raleigh an' I gits 'long better. Atter I gits settled I brings Johnnie, an' so we done putty good.

Dat's all I can tell yo' now Miss, but if'n yo'll come back sometime I'll tell yo' de rest of de tales.

Shortly after the above interview Uncle Dave who was failing fast was taken to the County Home, where he died. He was buried on May 4th, 1937, the rest of the tale remaining untold.

N. C. District: No. 2 [320185] Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 459 Subject: Ex-Slave Story Person Interviewed: Clay Bobbit Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date Stamp "JUN 17 1937"]

EX-SLAVE STORY

An interview with Clay Bobbit, 100 of S. Harrington Street, Raleigh, N. C., May 27, 1937.

I wuz borned May 2, 1837 in Warren County to Washington an' Delisia Bobbit. Our Marster wuz named Richard Bobbit, but we all calls him Massa Dick.

Massa Dick ain't good ter us, an' on my arm hyar, jist above de elbow am a big scar dis day whar he whupped me wid a cowhide. He ain't whupped me fer nothin' 'cept dat I is a nigger. I had a whole heap of dem whuppin's, mostly case I won't obey his orders an' I'se seed slaves beat 'most ter deff.

I wuz married onct 'fore de war by de broom stick ceremony, lak all de rest of de slaves wuz but shucks dey sold away my wife 'fore we'd been married a year an' den de war come on.

I had one brother, Henry who am wuckin' fer de city, an' one sister what wuz named Deliah. She been daid dese many years now.

Massa Dick owned a powerful big plantation an' ober a hundert slaves, an' we wucked on short rations an' went nigh naked. We ain't gone swimmin' ner huntin' ner nothin' an' we ain't had no pleasures 'less we runs away ter habe 'em. Eben when we sings we had ter turn down a pot in front of de do' ter ketch de noise.

I knowed some pore white trash; our oberseer wuz one, an' de shim shams[3] wuz also nigh 'bout also. We ain't had no use fer none of 'em an' we shorely ain't carin' whe'her dey has no use fer us er not.

De Ku Kluxes ain't done nothin' fer us case dar ain't many in our neighborhood. Yo' see de Yankees ain't come through dar, an' we is skeerd of dem anyhow. De white folks said dat de Yankees would kill us if'en dey ketched us.

I ain't knowed nothin' 'bout de Yankees, ner de surrender so I stays on fer seberal months atter de wahr wuz ober, den I comes ter Raleigh an' goes ter wuck fer de city. I wucks fer de city fer nigh on fifty years, I reckon, an' jis' lately I retired.

I'se been sick fer 'bout four months an' on, de second day of May. De day when I wuz a hundert years old I warn't able ter git ter de city lot, but I got a lot uv presents.

Dis 'oman am my third lawful wife. I married her three years ago.[4]

[Footnote 3: Shim Sham, Free Issues or Negroes of mixed blood.]

[Footnote 4: The old man was too ill to walk out on the porch for his picture, and his mind wandered too much to give a connected account of his life.]

N. C. District: No. 2 [320190] Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 793 Subject: Ex-Slave Story Story Teller: Henry Bobbitt Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: No Date Stamp]

EX-SLAVE STORIES

An interview with Henry Bobbitt, 87 of Raleigh, Wake County N. C. May 13, 1937 by Mary A. Hicks.

I wuz borned at Warrenton in Warren County in 1850. My father wuz named Washington, atter General Washington an' my mamma wuz named Diasia atter a woman in a story. Us an' 'bout forty or fifty other slaves belonged ter Mr. Richard Bobbitt an' we wucked his four hundred acres o' land fer him. I jist had one brother named Clay, atter Henry Clay, which shows how Massa Dick voted, an' Delilah, which shows dat ole missus read de Bible.

We farmed, makin' tobacco, cotton, co'n, wheat an' taters. Massa Dick had a whole passel o' fine horses an' our Sunday job wuz ter take care of 'em, an' clean up round de house. Yes mam, we wucked seben days a week, from sunup till sundown six days, an' from seben till three or four on a Sunday.

We didn't have many tear-downs an' prayer meetin's an' sich, case de fuss sturbed ole missus who wuz kinder sickly. When we did have sompin' we turned down a big wash-pot in front of de do', an' it took up de fuss, an' folkses in de yard can't hyar de fuss. De patterollers would git you iffen you went offen de premises widout a pass, an' dey said dat dey would beat you scandelous. I seed a feller dat dey beat onct an' he had scars as big as my fingers all ober his body.