Part 10
Slaves didn't have to use their own remedy for sickness for good doctors been hired to look at them. There was, as is, though, some weed use for fever an' headache as: blacksnake root, furrywork, jimpsin weed, one that tie' on the head which bring sweat from you like hail, an' hickory leaf. If the hickory is keep on the head too long it will blister it.
W'en the war was fightin' the white men burn the bridge at the foot of Spring Street so the Yankees couldn't git over but they buil' pontoos while some make the horses swim 'cross. One night while at Deer Pond, I hear something like thunder until 'bout eleven the next day. W'en the thing I t'ought was thunder stop', master tell us that evenin' we was free. I wasn't surprise to know for as little as I was I know the Yankees was goin' to free us with the help of God.
I was married twice, an' had two gals an' a boy with firs' wife. I have t'ree boys with the second; the younges' is jus' eight.
Lincoln did jus' what God inten' him to do, but I think nothin' 'bout Calhoun on 'account of what he say in one of his speech 'bout collud people. He said: "keep the niggers down."
To see collud boys goin' 'round now with paper an' pencil in their han's don't look real to me. Durin' slavery he would be whip' 'til not a skin was lef' on his body.
My pa was a preacher why I become a Christian so early; he preach' on the plantation to the slaves. On Sunday the slaves went to the white church. He use to tell us of hell an' how hot it is. I was so 'fraid of hell 'til I was always tryin' to do the right thing so I couldn't go to that terrible place.
I don't care 'bout this worl' an' its vanities 'cause the Great Day is comin' w'en I shall lay down an' my stammerin' tongue goin' to lie silent in my head. I want a house not made with han's but eternal in the Heavens. That Man up there, is all I need; I'm goin' to still trus' Him. Before the comin' of Chris' men was kill' for His name sake; today they curse Him. It's nearly time for the world to come to en' for He said "bout two thousand years I shall come again" an' that time is fas' approachin'.
Source
Interview with Henry Brown, 637 Grove Street. He is much concerned with the Scottsboro Case and discusses the invasion of Italy into defenseless Ethiopia intelligently.
Project #1655 W. W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S. C.
JOHN C. BROWN AND ADELINE BROWN EX-SLAVES 86 YEARS AND 96 YEARS OLD.
John C. Brown and his wife, Adeline, who is eleven years older than himself, live in a ramshackle four-room frame house in the midst of a cotton field, six miles west of Woodward, S. C. John assisted in laying the foundation and building the house forty-four years ago. A single china-berry tree, gnarled but stately, adds to, rather than detracts from, the loneliness of the dilapidated house. The premises and thereabout are owned by the Federal Land Bank. The occupants pay no rent. Neither of them are able to work. They have been fed by charity and the W. P. A. for the past eighteen months.
(John talking)
"Where and when I born? Well, dat'll take some 'hear say', Mister. I never knowed my mammy. They say she was a white lady dat visited my old marster and mistress. Dat I was found in a basket, dressed in nice baby clothes, on de railroad track at Dawkins, S. C. De engineer stop de train, got out, and found me sumpin' like de princess found Moses, but not in de bulrushes. Him turn me over to de conductor. De conductor carry me to de station at Dawkins, where Marse Tom Dawkins come to meet de train dat mornin' and claim me as found on his land. Him say him had de best right to me. De conductor didn't 'ject to dat. Marse Tom carry me home and give me to Miss Betsy. Dat was his wife and my mistress. Her always say dat Sheton Brown was my father. He was one of de slaves on de place; de carriage driver. After freedom he tell me he was my real pappy. Him took de name of Brown and dat's what I go by.
"My father was a ginger-bread colored man, not a full-blooded nigger. Dat's how I is altogether yallow. See dat lady over dere in dat chair? Dat's my wife. Her brighter skinned than I is. How come dat? Her daddy was a full-blooded Irishman. He come over here from Ireland and was overseer for Marse Bob Clowney. He took a fancy for Adeline's mammy, a bright 'latto gal slave on de place. White women in them days looked down on overseers as poor white trash. Him couldn't git a white wife but made de best of it by puttin' in his spare time a honeyin' 'round Adeline's mammy. Marse Bob stuck to him, and never 'jected to it.
"When de war come on, Marse Richard, de overseer, shoulder his gun as a soldier and, as him was educated more than most of de white folks, him rise to be captain in de Confederate Army. It's a pity him got kilt in dat war.
"My marster, Tom Dawkins, have a fine mansion. He owned all de land 'round Dawkins and had 'bout 200 slaves, dat lived in good houses and was we well fed. My pappy was de man dat run de mill and grind de wheat and corn into flour and meal. Him never work in de field. He was 'bove dat. Him 'tend to de ginnin' of de cotton and drive de carriage.
"De Yankees come and burn de mansion, de gin-house and de mill. They take all de sheep, mules, cows, hogs and even de chickens. Set de slaves free and us niggers have a hard time ever since.
"My black stepmammy was so mean to me dat I run away. I didn't know where to go but landed up, one night, at Adeline's mammy's and steppappy's house, on Marse Bob Clowney's place. They had been slaves of Marse Bob and was livin' and workin' for him. I knock on de door. Mammy Charity, dat's Adeline's mammy, say: 'Who dat?' I say: 'Me'. Her say: 'Who is me?' I say: 'John'. Her say: 'John who?' I say: 'Just John'. Her say: 'Adeline, open de door, dat's just some poor boy dat's cold and hungry. Charity is my fust name. Your pappy ain't come yet but I'll let dat boy in 'til he come and see what he can do 'bout it.'
"When Adeline open dat door, I look her in de eyes. Her eyes melt towards me wid a look I never see befo' nor since. Mind you, I was just a boy fourteen, I 'spects, and her a woman twenty-five then. Her say: 'You darlin' little fellow; come right in to de fire.' Oh, my! She took on over me! Us wait 'til her pappy come in. Then him say: 'What us gonna do wid him?' Adeline say: 'Us gonna keep him.' Pappy say: 'Where he gonna sleep?' Adeline look funny. Mammy say: 'Us'll fix him a pallet by de fire.' Adeline clap her hands and say: 'You don't mind dat, does you boy?' I say: 'No ma'am, I is slept dat way many a time.'
"Well, I work for Marse Bob Clowney and stayed wid Adeline's folks two years. I sure made myself useful in dat family. Never 'spicioned what Adeline had in her head, 'til one day I climbed up a hickory nut tree, flail de nuts down, come down and was helpin' to pick them up when she bump her head 'ginst mine and say: 'Oh, Lordy!' Then I pat and rub her head and it come over me what was in dat head! Us went to de house and her told de folks dat us gwine to marry.
"Her led me to de altar dat nex' Sunday. Gived her name to de preacher as Adeline Cabean. I give de name of John Clowney Brown. Marse Bob was dere and laugh when de preacher call my name, 'John Clowney Brown'.
"Our chillun come pretty fast. I was workin' for $45.00 a year, wid rations. Us had three pounds of bacon, a peck of meal, two cups of flour, one quart of 'lasses, and one cup of salt, a week.
"Us never left Marse Robert as long as him lived. When us have four chillun, him increase de amount of flour to four cups and de 'lasses to two quarts. Then him built dis house for de old folks and Adeline and de chillun to live in. I help to build it forty-four years ago. Our chillun was Clarice, Jim, John, Charity, Tom, Richard, and Adeline.
"I followed Marse Robert Clowney in politics, wore a red shirt, and voted for him to go to de Legislature. Him was 'lected dat time but never cared for it no more.
"Adeline b'long to de church. Always after me to jine but I can't believe dere is anything to it, though I believes in de law and de Ten Commandments. Preacher calls me a infidel. Can't help it. They is maybe got me figured out wrong. I believes in a Great Spirit but, in my time, I is seen so many good dogs and hosses and so many mean niggers and white folks, dat I 'clare, I is confused on de subject. Then I can't believe in a hell and everlastin' brimstone. I just think dat people is lak grains of corn: dere is some good grains and some rotten grains. De good grains is res'rected, de rotten grains never sprout again. Good people come up again and flourish in de green fields of Eden. Bad people no come up. Deir bodies and bones just make phosphate guano, 'round de roots of de ever bloomin' tree of life. They lie so much in dis world, maybe de Lord will just make 'lie' soap out of them. What you think else they would be fit for?"
Project #1655 Martha S. Pinckney Charleston, S. C.
FOLKLORE Approx. 660 words
INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE Age 88-90
Mary Frances Brown is a typical product of the old school of trained house servants, an unusual delicate type, somewhat of the Indian cast, to which race she is related. She is always clean and neat, a refined old soul, as individuals of that class often are. Her memory, sight and hearing are good for her advanced age.
"Our home Marlboro. Mas Luke Turnage was my master--Marlboro-Factory-Plantation name 'Beauty Spot'. My missis was right particular about neat and clean. She raise me for a house girl. My missis was good to me, teach me ebbery ting, and take the Bible and learn me Christianified manners, charity, and behaviour and good respect, and it with me still.
"We didn't have any hard times, our owners were good to us--no over share (overseer) and no whippin'--he couldn't stan' that. I live there 'til two year after freedom; how I come to leave, my mother sister been sick, and she ask mother to send one of us, an she send me. My mother been Miss Nancy cook. Miss Nancy was Mas Luke's mother--it take me two years learning to eat the grub they cook down here in Charleston. I had to learn to eat these little piece of meat--we had a dish full of meat; the big smoke house was lined from the top down. (Describing how the meat hung) I nebber accustom to dese little piece of meat, so--what dey got here. Missis, if you know smoke house, didn't you find it hard? My master had 'til he didn't know what to do with. My white people were Gentile." (Her tone implied that she considered them the acme of gentle folks). "I don't know what the other people were name that didn't have as much as we had--but I know my people were Gentile!"
Just here her daughter and son appeared, very unlike their mother in type. The daughter is quite as old looking as her mother; the son, a rough stevedore. When the writer suggested that the son must be a comfort, she looked down sadly and said in a low tone, as if soliloquizing, "He way is he way." Going back to her former thought, she said, "All our people were good. Mas Luke was the worse one." (This she said with an indulgent smile) "Cause he was all the time at the race ground or the fair ground.
"Religion rules Heaven and Earth, an there is no religion now--harricanes an washin-aways is all about. Ebberything is change. Dis new name what they call grip is pleurisy-cold--putrid sore-throat is called somethin'--yes, diptheria. Cuttin (surgery) come out in 1911! They kill an they cure, an they save an they loss.
"My Gran'ma trained with Indians--she bin a Indian, an Daniel C. McCall bought her. She nebber loss a baby." (the first Indian relationship that the writer can prove). "You know Dr. Jennings? Ebberybody mus' know him. After he examine de chile an de mother, an 'ee alright, he hold de nurse responsible for any affection (infection) that took place.
"Oh! I know de spiritual--but Missis, my voice too weak to sing--dey aint in books; if I hear de name I can sing--'The Promise Land', Oh, how Mas Joel Easterling (born 1796) use to love to sing dat!"
"I am bound for de Promise Land! Oh! who will arise an go with me? I am bound for the Promise Land! I've got a mother in the Promise Land, My mother calls me an I mus go, To meet her in the Promise Land!"
Source: Mary Frances Brown, Age 88-90, East Bay Street, Charleston, S. C.
Project #-1655 Cassels R. Tiedeman Charleston, S. C.
FOLKLORE
INTERVIEW WITH AN EX-SLAVE
Mary Frances Brown, about ninety years of age, born in slavery, on the plantation of Luke Turnage, in Marlboro County, was raised as a house-servant and shows today evidence of most careful training. Her bearing is rather a gentle refined type, seemingly untouched by the squalor in which she lives. She willingly gives freely of her small store of strength to those around her.
Her happiest days seem to have been those of her early youth, for when she was questioned about the present times, and even about those closely associated with her today she bowed her head and said: "Deir way is deir way. O! let me tell you now, de world is in a haad (hard) time, wust (worse) den it eber (ever) been, but religion! It eberywhere in Hebben an' in de ert (earth) too, if you want em. De trouble is you ain't want em; 'e right dere jes de same but de time done pass when dis generation hold wid anyt'ing but de debbul. When I a gal, grown up, I had a tight missus dat raise me, you hab to keep clean round her, she good an' kind an' I lub her yet, but don't you forgit to mind what she say.
"My massa, he 'low no whipping on de plantation, he talk heap an' he scold plenty, but den he hab to. Dere was haad time for two year after de war was ober (over) but after dat it better den it is now. Dis is de wust time eber. I ain't eber git use to de wittle (victual) you hab down here. I lib ober Mount Pleasant twenty five year after I come from de old place up Marlboro, den I come to Charleston.
"Dey were happy time back dere. My massa, he run round ebery way, spend plenty money on horse race, he gib good time to eberybody an' tell us we mus' tek good care of de missus when he ain't dere. An de wittles we hab I ain't nebber see de lak no time. Dem were de times to lib. I old now but I ain't forgit what my missus larn (learn) me. It right here in me."
Mary Frances was asked if she could sing spirituals. The following is one that she sang in a very high pitched wavering voice and then she complained of shortness of breath on account of her heart.
"We got a home ober dere, Come an' let us go, Come an' let us go, Where pleasure neber (never) die.
Chorus:
"Oh! let us go where pleasure neber die, Neber die, Come and let us go, Where pleasure neber die, neber die.
"Mother is gone ober dere, Mother is gone ober dere, Where pleasure neber die, Where pleasure neber die.
Chorus:
"Father is gone ober dere, Father is gone ober dere, Where pleasure neber die, Where pleasure neber die.
Chorus:
"Sister is gone ober dere, Sister is gone ober dere, Where pleasure neber die, Where pleasure neber die.
Chorus:
"Brudder is gone ober dere, Brudder is gone ober dere, Where pleasure neber die, Where pleasure neber die."
Chorus:
Source: Interview with Mary Frances Brown, 83 East Bay St., Charleston, S. C. (age--90)
Code No. ---- Project. 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S. C. Date, July 8, 1937 No. Words ---- Reduced From ---- words Rewritten by ----
MOM SARA BROWN Ex-Slave, 85 years
"Oh, my God, de doctors have me in slavery time. Been here de startin of de first war. I belong to de Cusaac dat live 15 miles low Florence on de road what take you on to Georgetown. I recollects de Yankees come dere in de month of June en free de colored peoples."
"My white folks give me to de doctors in dem days to try en learn me for a nurse. Don' know exactly how old I was in dat day en time, but I can tell you what I done. My Lord, child, can' tell dat. Couldn' never tell how many baby I bring in dis world, dey come so fast. I betcha I got more den dat big square down dere to de courthouse full of em. I nurse 13 head of chillun in one family right here in dis town. You see dat all I ever did have to do. Was learnt to do dat. De doctor tell me, say, when you call to a 'oman, don' you never hesitate to go en help her en you save dat baby en dat mother both. Dat what I is always try to do. Heap of de time just go en let em pay me by de chance. Oh, my Lord, a 'oman birth one of dem babies here bout two weeks ago wid one of dem veil over it face. De Lord know what make dat, I don', but dem kind of baby sho wiser den de other kind of baby. Dat thing look just like a thin skin dat stretch over da baby face en come down low it's chin. Have to take en pull it back over it's forehead en den de baby can see en holler all it ever want to. My blessed, honey, wish I had many a dollar as I see veil over baby face. Sho know all bout dem kind of things."
"Oh, honey, I tell you de people bless dis day en time. Don' know nothin bout how to be thankful enough for what dey have dese days. I tell de truth de peoples sho had to scratch bout en make what dey had in slavery time. Baby, dey plant patches of okra en parch dat en make what coffee dey have. Den dey couldn' get no shoes like dey hab dese days neither. Just make em out of de hide of dey own cows dat dey butcher right dere on de plantation. Coase de peoples had plenty sometin to eat like meat en turkey en chicken en thing like dat. Oh, my God, couldn' see de top of de smoke house for all de heap of meat dey have in dem times. En milk en butter, honey, dey didn' never be widout plenty of dat. De peoples bout here dese days axes ten cents a quart for sweet milk en five cents a quart for old sour clabber. What you think bout dat? Dat how-come people have to hunt jobs so mucha dese days. Have to do some sorta work cause you know dey got to put sometin in dey mouth somewhe' or another. Oh, my child, slavery days was troublesome times. Sugar en salt never run free wid de peoples den neither. I know de day been here when salt was so scarce dat dey had to go to de seashore en get what salt dey had. I gwine to tell you all bout dat. Dey hitch up two horses to a wagon en den dey make another horse go in front of de wagon to rest de other horses long de way. Dey mostly go bout on a Monday en stay three days. Boil dat salty water down dere en fetch two en three of dem barrel of salt back wid em dey get dat way. It was just like dis, it take heap of salt when dey had dem big hog-killin days. En de sugar, dey make dat too. Made de sugar in lil blocks dat dey freeze just like dey freeze ice dis day en time. I know dey do dat--know it. Dey make molasses en some of it would be lighter den de other en dey freeze dat en make de prettiest lil squares just like de ice you see dese days. Dey have sometin to freeze it in. Dis here old black mammy know heap of things you ain' never hear bout. Oh, baby, de peoples sho bless dese days."
"Oh, my god, de colored peoples worship to de white folks church in slavery time. You know dat Hopewell Church over de river dere, dat a slavery church. Dat whe' I go to church den wid my white folks. I had a lil chair wid a cowhide bottom dat I always take everywhe' I go wid me. If I went to church, dat chair go in de carriage wid me en den I take it in de church en set right by de side of my Miss. Dat how it was in slavery time. Oh, my Lord, dere a big slavery people graveyard dere to dat Hopewell Church."
"Honey, you mind if I smoke my pipe a lil whilst I settin here talkin wid you. I worry so much wid dis high blood dese days en a ringin in my ears dat my pipe de only thing dat does seem to satisfy my soul. I tell you dat high blood a bad thing. It get such a hold on me awhile back dat I couldn' do nothin, couldn' pick cotton, couldn' say my--me, couldn' even say, God a mighty--thing pretty. Oh, I don' know. I start smokin pipe long time ago when I first start nursin babies. Had to do sometin like dat den."
"No, Lord, I never believe nothin bout dat but what God put here. I hear some people say dey was conjure, but I don' pay no attention to dey talk. Dey say somebody poison em for sometin dey do, but dere ain' nobody do dat. God gwine to put you down when he get ready. Ain' nobody else do dat."