Part 8

"When de war was over de people jus' shouted for joy. De men and women jus' shouted for joy. 'Twas only because of de prayers of de cullud people, dey was freed, and de Lawd worked through Lincoln.

"My old masta was a doctor and a surgeon. He trained my grandmother; she worked under him thirty-seven years as a nurse. When old masta wanted grandmother to go on a special case he would whip her so she wouldn't tell none of his secrets. Grandmother used herbs fo' medicine--black snake root, sasparilla, blackberry briar roots--and nearly all de young'uns she fooled with she save from diarrhea.

"My old masta was good, but when he found you shoutin' he burnt your hand. My grandmother said he burnt her hand several times. Masta wouldn't let de cullud folks have meetin', but dey would go out in de woods in secret to pray and preach and shout.

"I jist picked up enough readin' to read my bible and scratch my name. I went to school one mo'ning and didn't git along wid de teacher so I didn't go no mo'.

"I 'member my folks had big times come Christmas. Dey never did work on Sundays, jist set around and rest. Dey never worked in bad weather. Dey never did go to de field till seven o'clock.

"I married in 1919. I have two step-daughters and one step-son. My step-son lives in San Antonio. I have six step-grandchillen. I was a member of de Baptist church befo' you was bo'n, lady.

420394

Dibble, Fred Beaumont, Jefferson Co. Dist. #3

ROSA GREEN, 85 years old, was born at Ketchi, Louisiana, but as soon as she was old enough became a housegirl on the plantation of Major "Bob" Hollingsworth at Mansfield, Louisiana. To the best of her knowledge, she was about 13 when the "freedom papers" were read. She had had 13 children by her two husbands, both deceased, and lives with her youngest daughter in Beaumont. Their one-room, unpainted house is one of a dozen unprepossessing structures bordering an alleyway leading off Pine Street. Rosa, a spry little figure, crowned with short, snow-white pigtails extending in various directions, spends most of her time tending her small flowerbeds and vegetable garden. She is talkative and her memory seems quite active.

"When de w'ite folks read de freedom paper I was 13 year old. I jes' lean up agin de porch, 'cause I didn' know den what it was all about. I war'nt bo'n in Texas, I was bo'n in Ketchi, but I was rais' in Manfiel'. Law, yes, I 'member de fight at Manfiel'. My ol' marster tuk all he niggers and lef' at night. Lef' us little ones; say de Yankees could git us effen day wan' to, 'cause we no good no way, and I wouldn' care if dey did git us. Dey put us in a sugar hogshead and give us a spoon to scrape out de sugar. 'Bout de ol' plantation, I work a little w'ile in de fiel'. I didn' know den like I see now. Dese chillen bo'n wid mo' sense now dan we was den. Dey was 'bout ten cullud folks on de place. My ol' marster name Bob Hollingsworth, but dey call 'im Major, 'cause he was a major in de war, not de las' one, but de one way back yonder. Ol' missus work de little ones roun' de house and under de house and kep' ev'yt'ing clean as yo' han'. The ol' marster I thought was de meanes' man de Lawd ever made. Look like he cuss ev'y time he open he mouth. De neighbor w'ite folks, some good, some bad. My work was cleanin' up 'roun de house and nussin' de chillen. Only times I went to church when day tuk us long to min' de chillen. When de battle of Manfiel' was, we didn' git out much. When de Yankees was comin' to Gran' Cane, my w'ite folks dig a big pit and put der meat and flour and all in it and cover it over wid dirt and put wagon loads of pine straw over it. It was 'bout five or six mile to Manfield and 'bout 49 or 50 mile to Shreveport. My ol' marster tuk all he niggers and went off somweres, dey called it Texas, but I didn' know where. De ol'er ones farm. Dey rais' ev'yt'ing dey could put in de groun', dey did. My pa was kirrige(carriage) driver for my ol' missus. He was boss nigger fo' de cullud men when marster wan't right dere. My father jis' stay dere. See, dey free our people in July. Dat leave de whole crop stanin' dere in de fiel'. Dey had to stay dere and take care of de crop. After dat dey commence makin' contraks and bargins. I was 22 years ol' when I marry de fus' time. Both my husban's dead. I had 13 chillen in all.

"De fus' time I went to church, missus tuk me and another gal to min' de chillen. I never heared a preacher befo'. I 'member how de preacher word de hymn:

'Come, ye sinners, po' and needy. Weak and wounded, sick and so'.'

"I couldn' understan' it, but now when I look down on it I sees it now. I bleeve us been here goin' on fo' year' right yere in dis house."

420078

[Illustration: William Green, (Rev. Bill) (A)]

[Illustration: William Green, (Rev. Bill) (B)]

WILLIAM GREEN, or "Reverend Bill", as he is call by the other Negroes, was brought to Texas from Mississippi in 1862. His master was Major John Montgomery. William is 87 years old. He has lived in San Antonio, Texas, for 50 years.

"I is Reverend Bill, all right, but I is 'fraid dat compliment don't belong to me no more, 'cause I quit preachin' in favor of de young men.

"I kin tell you my 'speriences in savin'--mis'ry dat was, is peace dat is. I tells you dis 'spite of bein' alone in de world with no chillun.

"I is raised a slave and 'mancipated in June, but I 'members de old plantation whar I is born. Massa John Montgomery, he owned me, and he went to de war and git kilt. I knowed 'bout de war, though us slaves wasn't sposed to know nothin' 'bout it. I was livin' in Texas then, 'cause Massa John moved over here from Mis'sippi. In dat place niggers was allus wrong, no matter what, but it was better in dis place. We used to think we was lucky to git over here to Texas, and we used to sing a song 'bout it:

"'Over yonder is de wild-goose nation, Whar old missus has sugar plantation-- Sugar grows sweet but de plantation's sour, 'cause de nigger jump and run every hour.

"'I has you all to know, you all to know, Dare's light on de shore, Says little Bill to big Bill, There's a li'l nigger to write and cipher.'

"I don't know what de song meant but we thought we'd git free here in Texas, and we'd git eddicated, and dat's de meanin' of de talk about writin' and cipherin'.

"Well, when I is free I isn't free, 'cause de boss wants me and another boy to stay till we's 21 year old. But old Judge Longworth, he come down dere and dere was pretty near a fight, and he 'splains to us we was free.

"'bout five year after dat I takes up preachin' and I preaches for a long time, and I works on a farm, half and half with de owner. I has a good life, but now I's too old to preach.

420041

[Illustration: Pauline Grice]

PAULINE GRICE, 81, was born a slave of John Blackshier, who owned her mother, about 150 slaves, 50 slave children, and a large plantation near Atlanta, Georgia. Pauline married Navasota Grice in 1875 and they moved to Texas in 1917. Since her husband's death in 1928 Pauline has depended on the charity of friends, with whom she lives at 2504 Ross Ave., North Fort Worth, Texas.

"White man, dis old cullud woman am not strong. 'Bout all my substance am gone now. De way you sees me layin' on dis bed am what I has to do mos' de time. My mem'randum not so good like 'twas.

"De place I am borned am right near Atlanta, in Georgia, and on dat plantation of Massa John Blackshier. A big place, with 'bout 150 growed slaves and 'bout 50 pickininnies. I doesn't work till near de surrender, 'cause I's too small. But us don't leave Massa John, us go right on workin' for him like 'fore.

"Massa John am de kind massa and don't have whuppin's. He tell de overseer, 'If you can't make dem niggers work without de whup, den you not de man I wants.' Mos' de niggers 'have theyselves and when dey don't massa put dem in de li'l house what he call de jail, with nothin' to eat till deys ready to do what he say. Onct or twict he sell de nigger what won't do right and do de work.

"Us have de cabin what am made from logs but us only sleeps dere. All us cookin' done in de big kitchen. Dere am three women what do dat, and give us de meals in de long shed with de long tables.

"To de bes' of dis nigger's mem'randum, de feed am good. Plenty of everything and corn am de mostest us have. Dere am cornbread and cornmeal mush and corn hominy and corn grits and parched corn for drink, 'stead of tea or coffee. Us have milk and 'lasses and brown sugar, and some meat. Dat all raise on de place. Stuff for to eat and wear, dat am made by us cullud folks and dat place am what dey calls se'f-s'portin'. De shoemaker make all de shoes and fix de leather, too.

"After breakfas' in de mornin' de niggers am gwine here, dere and everywhere, jus' like de big factory. Every one to he job, some a-whistlin', some a-singin'. Dey sings diff'rent songs and dis am one when deys gwine to work:

"'Old cotton, old corn, see you every morn, Old cotton, old corn, see you since I's born. Old cotton, old corn, hoe you till dawn, Old cotton, old corn, what for you born?'

"Yes, suh, everybody happy on massa's place till war begin. He have two sons and Willie am 'bout 18 and Dave am 'bout 17. Dey jines de army and after 'bout a year, massa jine too, and, course, dat make de missy awful sad. She have to 'pend on de overseer and it warn't like massa keep things runnin'.

"In de old days, if de niggers wants de party, massa am de big toad in de puddle. And Christmas, it am de day for de big time. A tree am fix, and some present for everyone. De white preacher talk 'bout Christ. Us have singin' and 'joyment all day. Den at night, de big fire builded and all us sot 'round it. Dere am 'bout hundred hawg bladders save from hawg killin'. So, on Christmas night, de chillen takes dem and puts dem on de stick. Fust dey is all blowed full of air and tied tight and dry. Den de chillen holds de bladder in de fire and purty soon, 'B A N G,' dey goes. Dat am de fireworks.

"Dat all changed after massa go to war. Fust de 'federate sojers come and takes some mules and hosses, den some more come for de corn. After while, de Yankee sojers comes and takes some more. When dey gits through, dey ain't much more tookin' to be done. De year 'fore surrender, us am short of rations and sometime us hongry. Us sees no battlin' but de cannon bang all day. Once, dey bang two whole days 'thout hardly stoppin'. Dat am when missy go tech in de head, 'cause massa and de boys in dat battle. She jus' walk 'round de yard and twist de hands and say, 'Dey sho' git kilt. Dey sho' dead.' Den when extra loud noise come from de cannon, she scream. Den word come Willie am kilt. She gits over it, but she am de diff'rent woman. For her, it am trouble, trouble and more trouble.

"She can't sell de cotton. Dey done took all de rations and us couldn't eat de cotton. One day she tell us, 'De war am on us. De sojers done took de rations. I can't sell de cotton, 'cause of de blockade.' I don't know what am dat blockade, but she say it. 'Now,' she say, 'All you cullud folks born and raise here and us allus been good to you. I can't holp it 'cause rations am short and I'll do all I can for you. Will yous be patient with me?' All us stay dere and holp missy all us could.

"Den massa come home and say, 'Yous gwine be free. Far as I cares, you is free now, and can stay here and tough it through or go where you wants. I thanks yous for all de way yous done while I's gone, and I'll holp you all I can.' Us all stay and it sho' am tough times. Us have most nothin' to eat and den de Ku Klux come 'round dere. Massa say not mix with dat crowd what lose de head, jus' stay to home and work. Some dem niggers on other plantations ain't keep de head and dey gits whupped and some gits kilt, but us does what massa say and has no trouble with dem Klux.

"It 'bout two year after freedom mammy gits marry and us goes and works on shares. I stays with dem till 1875 and den marries Navasota Robert Grice and us live by farmin' till he die, nine year since. 'Bout 20 year since us come here from Georgia and works de truck farm. I has two chillen but dey dead. De way I feels now, 'twon't be long 'fore I goes, too. My friends is good to me and lets me stay with dem.

420107

[Illustration: Mandy Hadnot]

MANDY HADNOT, small and forlorn looking, as she lies in a huge, old-fashioned wooden bed, appears very black in contrast to the clean white sheets and a thick mop of snowy wool on her head. She does not know her age, but from her appearance and the details she remembers of her years as slave in the Slade home, near Cold Springs, Texas, she must be very old. She lives in Woodville, Texas, with her husband, Josh, to whom she has been married 13 years.

"I's too small to 'member my father, 'cause he die when I jus' a baby. Dey was my mudder and me and de ole mistus and marster on de plantation. It were mo' jus' a farm, but dey raise us all we need to eat and feed de cows and hosses.

"De earlies' 'membrance I hab is when de ole marster drive into de town for supplies every two weeks. Us place was right near Col' Springs. He was a good man. He treat dis lil' darky jus' like he own chile, 'cause he never hab any chillen of his own. I know 'bout de time he comin' home when he go to town and I wait down by de big gate. Purty soon I see de big ox comin' and see de smoke from de road dust flyin'. Den I know he almos' home and I holler and wave my han' and he holler and wave he han' right back. He allus brung me somethin', jus' like I he own little gal. Sometime he brung me a whistle or some candy or doll or somethin'.

"One Easter he brung me de purties' lil' hat I ever did see. My ole mistus took me to Sunday school with her and I spruce up in dat hat.

"Every Christmas 'fore ole marster die he fix me up a tree out de woods. Dey put popco'n on it to trim it and dey give me sometime a purty dress or shoes and plenty candy and maybe a big, red apple. Dey hab a big san' pile for me to play in, but I never play with any other chillen. My mammy, Emily Budle, she cook and clean up mistus log house cabin. After de ole marster die dey both work in de fiel' and raise plenty vegetables to can and eat. My task was to shell peas and watch and stir de big cookin' pots on de fireplace.

"My mistus hav lots of company. When she come in and say, 'Mandy, shine up de knife and fork and put de polish on de pianny, I allus happy, 'cause I lub to see folks come. Us hab chicken and all kinds of good things. De preacher, he was big, jolly man, he come to de house 'bout one Sunday in every month. Sometime dey brung lil' white chillen to dinner. Den us play

'Rabbit, rabbit. Jump fru' de crack.'

and

'Kitty, kitty, In de corner, Meow, meow, Run, kitty, run.'

"De ole marster pick me out a lil', gentle hoss named Julie and dat was my very own hoss. It was jus' a common lil' hoss. I uster sneak sugar out de barrel to feed Julie. Dey had a big smokehouse on de farm where dey kep' all kin's of good things like sugar and sich. Dey had fruits of all kin's put up.

"Every mornin' de ole mistus took out de big Bible and hab prayer meetin' for jus' us three. Us never learn read much, tho' she try teach me some. When I's 'bout nine year ole she buy me a purty white dress and took me to jine de church. She was a little, white-hair' woman, what never los' her temper 'bout nothin'. She use' to let me bump on her pianny and didn' say nothin'. She couldn' play de pianny but she kinder hope maybe I could, but I never did learn how.

"When freedom come my mudder and me pay no 'tention to it. Us stay right on de place. Purty soon my mudder die and I jus' took up her shoes. One day I's makin' a bonfire in de yard and ketch my dress on fire. De whol side of my lef' leg mos' bu'n off. Mistus was so lil' she couldn' lif' me but she fin'ly git me to bed. Dere I stay for long, long time, and she wait on me han' and feet. She make linseed poultice and kep' de bu'n grease good. Mos' time she leave all de wo'k stan' in de middle of de floor and read de Bible and pray for me to git heal up and not suffer. She cry right 'long with me when I cry, 'cause I hurt so.

"When I's 16 year ole I want to hab courtin'. Mistus 'low me to hab de boy come right to de big house to see me. He come two mile every Sunday and us go to Lugene Baptist church. Den she hav nice Sunday dinner for both us. She let me go to ice cream supper, too. Dey didn' hab no freezer den, jus' a big pan in some ice. De boys and girls took tu'ns stirrin' de cream. It never git real ha'd but stay kinder slushy. Dey serve cake. Us hav pie supper, too. Whoever git de girl's pie eat it with her.

"My ole mistus she pay me money right 'long after freedom but I too close to spen' any. Den when I 'cide to marry Bob Thomas, she he'p me fix a hope ches'. I buys goods for sheets and table kivers and one nice Sunday set dishes.

"Us marry right in de parlor of de mistus house. De white man preacher marry us and mistus she give me 'way. Ole mistus he'p me make my weddin' dress outta white lawn. I hab purty long, black hair and a veil with a ribbon 'round de fron'. De weddin' feas' was strawberry ice cream and yaller cake. Ole mistus giv me my bedstead, one of her purtiest ones, and de set dishes and glasses us eat de weddin' dinner outta. My husban' gib me de trabblin' dress, but I never use dat dress for three weeks, though, 'cause ole mistus cry so when I hafter leave dat I stay for three weeks after I marry.

"She all 'lone in de big house and I think it break her heart. I ain' been gone to de sawmill town very long when she sen' for me. I go to see her and took a peach pie, 'cause I lub her and I know dat's what she like better'n anything. She was sick and she say, 'Mandy, dis de las' time us gwineter see each other, 'cause I ain' gwineter git well. You be a good girl and try to git through de worl' dat way.' Den she make me say de Lord Prayer for her jus' like she allus make me say it for a night prayer when I lil' gal. I never see her no mo'.

"Me and Bob Thomas and dis husban', Josh, what I marry thirteen year ago, hab 'bout 10 chillen all togedder. Us been lib here many a year. I don' care so much 'bout leavin' dis yearthly home, 'cause I knows I gwineter see de ole mistus up dere and I tell her I allus 'member what she tell me and try lib dat way all time.

420237

[Illustration: William Hamilton]

WILLIAM HAMILTON belonged to a slave trader, who left him on the Buford plantation, near Village Creek, Texas. The trader did not return, so the Buford family raised the child with their slaves. William now lives at 910 E. Weatherford St., Ft. Worth, Texas.

"Who I is, how old I is and where I is born, I don't know. But Massa Buford told me how durin' de war a slave trader name William Hamilton, come to Village Creek, where Massa Buford live. Dat trader was on his way south with my folks and a lot of other slaves, takin' 'em somewheres, to sell. He camped by Massa Buford's plantation and asks him, 'Can I leave dis li'l nigger here till I comes back?' Massa Buford say, 'Yes,' and de trader say he'll be back in 'bout three weeks, soon as he sells all the slaves. He mus' still be sellin' 'em, 'cause he never comes back so far and there I am and my folks am took on, and I is too li'l to 'member 'em, so I never knows my pappy and mammy. Massa Buford says de trader comes from Missouri, but if I is born dere I don't know.

"De only thing I 'members 'bout all dat, am dere am lots of cryin' when dey tooks me 'way from my mammy. Dat something I never forgits.

"I only 'members after de war, and most de cullud folks stays with Massa Buford after surrender and works de land on shares. Dey have good times on dat place, and don't want to leave. Day has dances and fun till de Ku Klux org'nizes and den it am lots of trouble. De Klux comes to de dance and picks out a nigger and whups him, jus' to keep de niggers scart, and it git so bad dey don't have no more dances or parties.