Part 21

"Our Boss man, he had "planty" of slaves. We lived in a log houses. My father was an Indian and he ran away to war, but I don't 'member anything of my mother. She was sold and taken away 'fore I ever knew anything of her.

"I 'member that I had to thin cotton in the fields and mind the flies in the house. I had a leafy branch that was cut from a tree. I'd stand and wave that branch over the table to keep the flies out of the food.

"I'd work like that in the day time and at night I'd sleep in my uncle's shed. We had long bunks along the side of the walls. We had no beds, just gunny sacks nailed to the bunks, no slats, no springs, no nothing else. You know how these here sortin' trays are made,--these here trays that they use to sort oranges and 'matoes. Well, we had to sleep on gunn sack beds.

"They had weavin' looms where they made rugs and things. I used to holp 'em tear rags and sew 'em an' make big balls and then they'd weave those rugs,--rag rugs, you know. That's what we had to cover ourselves with. We didn't had no quilts nor sheets not nothin like that."

[TR: The following portion of this interview is a near repeat of a portion of an earlier interview with this informant; however it is included here because the transcription varies.]

"I 'member well when the war was on. I used to turn the corn sheller and sack the shelled corn for the Confederate soldiers. They used to sell some of the corn, and I guess they gave some of it to the soldiers. Anyway the Yankees got some that they didn't intend them to get.

"It was this way:

"The Wheeler Boys were Confederates. They came down the road as happy as could be, a-singin':

'Hurrah! Hur rah! Hurrah! Hurrah! for the Broke Brook boys. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah for the Broke Brook boys of South Car-o-li-ne-ah.'

"So of course, we thought they were our soldiers singin' our songs. Well, they came and tol' our boss that the Yankees were coming and we had better hide our food and valuable things for they'd take everything they wanted.

"So they helped our Massy hide the things. They dug holes and buried the potatoes and covered them over with cotton seed. Then our Massy gave them food for their kindness and set out with two of the girls to take them to a place of safety, and before he could come back for the Missus The Yankees were upon us.

"But before they got there, our Missus had called us together and told us what to say.

"Now you beg for us! You can save our lives. If they ask you if we are good to you, you tell them, 'YES'!

"If they ask you, if we give your meat, you tell them 'YES'!

"Now the rest didn't get any meat, but I did 'cause I worked in the house, so I didn't tell a lie, for I did get meat, but the rest didn't get it.

"We saw the Yankees coming. They never stopped for nothing. Their horses would jump the worn rail fences and they'd come right across the fiel's an' everything.

"They came to the house first and bound our Missus up stairs so she couldn't get away, then they came out to the sheds and asked us all kind of questions.

"We begged for our Missus and we say:

'Our Missus is good. Don't kill her! 'Dont take our meat away from us! 'Dont hurt our Missus! 'Dont burn the house down!

[TR: The rest of the interview is new information.]

"We begged so hard that they unloosened her, but they took some of the others for refugees and some of the slaves volunteered and went off with them.

"They took potatoes and all the hams they wanted, but they left our Missus, 'cause me save her life.

"The Uncle what I libbed with, he was awful full of all kinds of devilment. He stole sweet taters out of the bank. He called them "pot" roots and sometimes he called them "blow horts". You know they wuld blow up big and fat when they were roasted in the ashes.

"My uncle, he liked those blow horts mighty well, and one day, when he had some baked in the fireplace, Ole Massy Hoover, he came along and peeked in through the "hold" in de chimley wall, where the stones didn't fit too good.

"He stood there and peeked in an' saw my uncle eat in' those blow horts. He had a big long one shakin' the ashes off on it. He was blowing it to cool it off so he could eat it and he was a-sayin'

"'Um! does blowhorts is mighty good eatin'. Then Massy, he come in wid his big whip, and caught him and tied him to a tree and paddled him until he blistered and then washed his sore back with strong salt water. You know they used to use salt for all of sores, but it sho' did smart.

"My aunt, she was an Indian woman. She didn't want my uncle to steal, but he was just full of all kind of devilment.

"My Massy liked him, but one day he played a trick on him.

"My Uncle took sick, he was so sick that when my Massy came to see him, he asked him to pray that he should die. So Massy Hoover, he went home and wrapped himself up in a big long sheet and rapped on the door real hard.

"Uncle, he say, 'who's out there? What you want?'

"Massy, he change his voice and say, 'I am Death. I hear that you want to die, so I've come after your soul. Com with me! Get ready. Quick I am in a hurry!'

"'Oh, my sakes!' my uncle, he say, 'NO, no I aint ready yet. I aint ready to meet you. I don't want to die.'

"My Missus whipped me once, but not so very hard. I was under Her daughter, Miss Mollie. She liked me and always called me "Tinker". When she heard me crying and goin' on, she called:

"'Tinker, come here. What's the matter? Did you Missus whip you?'

"Then my Missus said, 'Tinker was a bad girl, I told her to sweep the yard and she went off and hid all day.'

"Mollie, she took me up in her arms and said, 'They mustn't whip Tinker; she's my little girl.'

"If it hadn't been for Miss Mollie, I don't know where I'd be now. I married right after freedom. My husband, Alexander Boynton and I stayed right on the plantation and farmed on the shares.

"We had planty of children,--18 in all.--three sets of twins. They all grew up, except the twins, they didn't any of them get old enough to get married, but all the rest lived and raised children.

"They are all scattered around, but my youngest son is only 38 years old. I have grand-children, 40 years old.

"I don't know just how many, but I have 20 grand-children and I have three generations of grand-children. Yes, my grand-children, some of them, have grand-children. That makes five generations.

"I tell them that I am a "gitzy, gitzy" grand-mother."

"I live right here with my daughter. She's my baby girl. I'm not very strong anymore, but I have a big time telling stories to my great-grand-children and great-great-grand children".

SALENA TASWELL:

Salena Taswell, 364 NW 8th St. Miami, Florida, is one of the oldest ex-slave women in Miami. Like most ex-slaves she is very courteous; she will talk about the "old times", if she has once gained confidence in you, but her answers will be so laconic that two or three visits are necessary in order for an interviewer to gain tangible information without appearing too proddish.

With short, measured step, bent form, unsteady head, wearing a beaming smile, Salena takes the floor.

"Ole Dr. Jameson, he wuz my Massy. He had a plantation three mile from Perry, Georgia. I can 'member whole lots about working for them. Y' see I was growned up when peace came.

"My mother used to be a seamstress and sewed with her fingers all the time. She made the finest kind of stitches while I worked around de table or did any other kind of house work.

"I knowed de time when Ab'ram Linkum come to de plantation. He come through there on the train and stopped over night oncet. He was known by Dr. Jameson and he came to Perry to see about the food for the soldiers.

"We all had part in intertainin' him. Some shined his shoes, some cooked for him, an' I waited on de table, I can't forget that. We had chicken hash and batter cakes and dried venison that day. You be sure we knowed he was our friend and we catched what he had t' say. Now, he said this: (I never forget that 'slong as I live) 'If they free de people, I'll bring you back into the Union' (To Dr. Jameson) 'If you don't free your slaves, I'll "whip" you back into the Union. Before I'd allow my wife an' children to be sold as slaves, I'll wade in blood and water up to my neck'.

"Now he said all that, if my mother and father were living, they'd tell y' the same thing. That's what Linkum said.

"He came through after Freedom and went to the 'Sheds' first. I couldn't 'magine what was going on, but they came runnin' to tell me and what a time we had.

"Linkum went to the smoke house and opened the door and said 'Help yourselves; take what you need; cook yourselves a good meall and we sho' had a celebration!"

"The Dr. didn't care; he was lib'ral. After Freedom, when any of us got married he'd give us money and send a servant along for us. Sometimes even he'd carry us himself to our new home."

DADE COUNTY, FLORIDA, FOLKLORE

MIAMI'S EX-SLAVES

There is a unique organization in the colored population of Miami known as the "Ex Slave Club." This club now claims twenty-five members, all over 65 years of age and all of whom were slaves in this country prior to the Civil War. The members of this interesting group are shown in the accompanying photograph. The stories of their lives as given verbatim by these aged men and women are recorded in the following stories:

ANNIE TRIP:

"My name's Annie Trip. How my name's Trip, I married a Trip, but I was borned in Georgia in the country not so very far from Thomasville. I'm sure you must ha' heard of Thomasville, Georgia. Well, that's where I was borned, on Captain Hamlin's plantation.

"Captain Hamlin, he was a greatest lawyer. Henry Hamlin, you know he was the greatest lawyer what ever was, so dey tell me. You see I was small. My mother and father and four brothers all lived there together. Some of the rest were too small to remember much, but dey wuz all borned dare just de samey. Wish I wuz dare right now. I had plenty of food then. I didn't need to bother about money. Didn't have none. Didn't have no debts to pay, no bother not like now.

"Now I have rheumatism and everything, but no money. Didn't need any money on Captain Hamlin's plantation." And Annie walked away complaining about rheumatism and no money, etc. before her exact age and address could be obtained.

MILLIE SAMPSON:

Millie Sampson, 182 W. 14th St. Miami, Florida, was born in Manning, S.C. only three years 'bfo' Peace".

"My mother and father were born on the same plantation and I di'n't have nothin' to do 'sept play with the white children and have plenty to eat. My mother and father were field han's. I learned to talk from the white children."

ANNIE GAIL:

Annie Gail, 1661 NW 6th Court, Miami, Florida, was four years old when "peace came."

"I was borned on Faggott's place near Greenville, Alabama. My mother, she worked for Faggott. He wuz her bossman. When she'd go out to de fiel's, I 'member I used to watch her, for somehow I wuz feared she would get away from me.

"Now I 'member dat jes ez good as 'twas yesterday. I didn't do anything. I just runned 'round.

"We just 'stayed on' after de' 'Mancipation'. My mother, she was hired then. I guess I wuzn't 'fraid ob her leavin' after dat."

JESSIE ROWELL:

Jessie Rowell, 331 NW 19th St., Miami, Florida was born in Mississippi, between Fossburg and Heidelberg, on the Gaddis plantation.

"My grandmother worked in the house, but my mother worked in the field hoeing or picking cotton or whatever there was to do. I was too little to work.

"All that I can 'member is, that I was just a little tot running 'round, and I would always watch for my mother to come home. I was always glad to see her, for the day was long and I knew she'd cook something for me to eat. I can 'member dat es good as 'twas yestiday.

"We 'stayed on' after Freedom. Mother was give wages then, but I don't know how much."

MARGARET WHITE:

Margaret White, 6606 18th Ave., Liberty City, Miami. Florida is one of those happy creatures who doesn't look as if she ever had a care in the world. She speaks good English:

"I am now 84 years old, for I was 13 when the Emancipation Proclamation was made. It didn't make much difference to me. I had a good home and was treated very nicely.

"My master was John Eckels. He owned a large fruit place near Federal, N.C.

"My father was a tailor and made the clothes for his master and his servants. I was never sold. My master just kept me. They liked me and wouldn't let me be sold. He never whipped me, for I was a slave, you know, and I had to do just as I was told.

"I worked around the house doing maid's work. I also helped to care for the children in the home."

PRISCILLA MITCHELL:

Priscilla Mitchell, 1614 NW 5th Ave., was born in Macon County, Alabama, March 17, 1858.

"Y' see, ah wuz oney 7 years old when ah wuz 'mancipated. I can 'member pickin' cotton, but I didn't work so hard, ah wuz too young.

"I wuz my Massy's pet. No, no he wouldn't beat me. Whenever ah's bad or did little things that my mother didn't want me to do and she'd go to whip me, all I needed to do was to run to my Massy and he'd take me up and not let my mother git me."

This is a sample of the attitude that very many have toward their masters.

FANNIE McCAY:

Fannie McCay, 1720 NW 3rd Court, Miami, Florida was born on a plantation while her father and mother were slaves; she claims her age is 73 years which would make her too young to remember "mancipation" but nevertheless she was slave property of her master and could have been sold or given away even at that tender age. Her parents, too, "stayed on" quite a while after the "mancipation".

Being one of those who "didn't have too much time to talk too much," her main statement was:

"'Bout all hi ken 'member is dat hi hused go hout wid de old folks when dey went out to pick cotton. Hi used to pick a little along.

"I had plenty to eat and when we went away, my Massy had a little calf that I liked so well. I begged my Massy to give it to me, but he never gave me none."

HATTIE THOMAS:

Hattie Thomas was six years old when peace was declared. She was 'borned' near Custer, Ga. on Bob Morris' plantation. At the tender age of five, she can remember of helping to care for the other children, some of whom were her own brothers and children, for her mother kept her eight children with her.

Bob Morris' plantation being a large one, the problem of feeding all the slaves and their children was, in itself, a large one. Hattie can well remember of 'towing' the milk to the long wooden troughs for the children. Her mother and the other servants would throw bread crusts and corn breads into the milk troughs and when they would become well-soaked, all the little slave-children would line up with their spoons.

"So it happened that the ones who could eat the fastest would be the ones who would get the fattest.

"We had a good plenty to eat and it didn't make much difference how it was served. We got it just the same and didn 't know any better.

"We stayed on after de 'mancipation an' ah wants t' tell y' ah worked hard in dose days. Of course, ah worked hardest after Peace wuz declared.

"I wuz on dat plantation when there wuz no matches. Yes, dat wuz befo' matches wuz made an' many-a time ah started fire in de open fire place by knookin' two stones together until I'd sen' sparks into a wad o'cotton until it took fire.

"Now, mind y' this was on Bob Morrison's plantation between Custard and Cotton Hill, Ga. We had no made brooms; we just bound broom corn tops together and used them for brooms and brushes. We didn't have no stoves either. We just cooked in a high pot on a rack. I done all dat.

"Ah haint had no husband for 38 years, but ah raised two sets o'chilluns, nine in all and now ah has 25 grandchildren and I don't know how many great gran' chillun."

DAVID LEE:

David Lee, 1006 NW 1st Court, Miami, Fla. is proud of his "missus" and the training he received on the plantation.

"Ah can't tell y' 'zackkly mah age, but ah knows dat when Freedom was declared, ah was big 'nough ter drive a haws an' buggy', for ah had nice folks. Ah could tell u' right smart 'bout 'em.

"Ah libbed near Cusper, Ga. on Barefield's fahm. Dare daughter, Miss Ann Barefield, she taught a school few miles away, 'round pas' the Post Hoffice. Ah s'posen ah mus' bee 9 or 10 years hold, for ah' carried Miss Ann backwards and forwards t' school hev'ry marnin' and den in the hevenin', ah'd stop 'round fer de mails when ah'd go fer to carry her home.

"Miss Ann, she used ter gibme money, but hi didn't know what t' do wid hit. Ah had all de clothes ah could we ah and all ah could eat and didn't need playthings, couldn't read much, and didn't know where to buy any books. Ah had hit good.

"When peace wuz signed, dey gib me lots of Confederate bills to play with. Ah had ten-dollah bills and lots o' twenty-dollah bills, good bills, but y'know dey wus 't wuth nothing. Ah have a twenty-doll ah bill 'roun som'ers, if hi could evah fin' hit.

"Yes, ah had hit good. My mothah, she stayed on de plantation, too. She did de churnin' and she run de loom. She wuz a good weaver. Ah used ter help her run de loom.

"We stayed on a while after Freedom and den our Massy he giv' my mothah a cow and calf along wid other presents an 'he carried us back to my father an' we had a little home.

"Ah loved man Missus just as good as ah did my own mothah. She whipped me a few times but then de whippins wuz honly raps on de head wid her thimble. Ah spose ah needed hit, for ah "did like sugah"! (Growing more confidential he explained);

"Now, ah wouldn't steal nothin' else, but--uh--ah,--uh--ah did like sugah!"

"Missus, she had a big barrel ob lumpy sugah in de pantry. De doo' wuz ginnerly looked, but sometimes when hit wuz hopen, ah'd go in an' take a han' fu'.

"Ah 'rembah once, ah crawled in tru de winder and mah Missus she s'picionated ah wuz in dare eatin' sugah, so she called, "David, you anser me, you all's in [TR: rest of page cut off.]