Part 14
"Where was I born? Why right dere on de Hog Fork Place, thought everybody knowed dat! It was de home place of my old Marster Daniel Hall, one of de Rockefellers of his day and generation, I tells you, he sho was. My pappy had big name, my marster call him Denmore, my mammy went by de name of Mariyer. She was bought out of a drove from Virginny long befo' de war. They both b'long to old marster and bless God live on de same place in a little log house. Let's see; my brother Bill is one, he livin' at de stone quarry at Salisbury, North Carolina. My sister Lugenie marry a Boulware nigger and they tells me dat woman done take dat nigger and make sumpin' out of him. They owns their own automobile and livin' in Cleveland, Ohio.
"Us live in quarters, two string of houses a quarter mile long and just de width of a wagon road betwixt them. How many slaves marster had? Dere was four hundred in 1850, dat was de year I was born, so allowing for de natural 'crease, 'spect dere was good many more when freedom come. Our beds was made of poles and hay or straw. Was my marster rich? How come he wasn't? Didn't he have a Florida plantation and a Georgia plantation? Didn't us niggers work hard for our vittles and clothes? It make me laugh de way de niggers talk 'bout eight hours a day. Us worked by de 'can and de can't system'. What way dat you ask me? Well, was dis way; in de mornin' when it git so you can see, you got to go to work and at night when it git so dark you can't see you ceasted to work. You see what I mean? My marster's white overseer 'dopted de 'can and can't system' of work hours. My mammy had to plow same as a man, she did sir. Sometimes they pulled fodder and fooled wid it on Sunday.
"You is a pushin' me a little too fast. Let me gum dis 'bacco and spit and I can do and say more 'zackly what you expect from me. My marster had sheep, goats, mules, horses, stallion, jackass, cows and hogs, and then he had a gin, tan yard, spinnin' rooms, weave room, blacksmith shop and shoe shop. Dere was wild turkeys on de place, deer in de cane brakes and shad in de Catawba River. De Indians fetch their pots and jars to sell, and peddlers come to big house wid their humps on their backs and bright yards of calico and sich things de missus lak to feel and s'lect from. I see money then, but I never see a nigger wid money in his paws in slavery time, never!
"Us was fed good on corn meal, hog meat, milk, butter, 'lasses, turnips, beans, peas and apples, never hungry. Boss whip me once for fightin' and I never fought anymore, I tells you.
"My mistress name Miss Sarah. Her was a Hicklin befo' she marry. Their chillun was: Tom, Billie, Dan and Jason, all dead 'cept Marster Jason. De white overseer was Strother Ford. He give de slaves down the country maybe sometimes, so heard them say, but I didn't see him.
"Did us sing? Yes sir. What us sing? One was what I's gwine hist right dis minute and sing wid your lieve. (Here Charley sang, 'Give me dat old time religion'.)
"Us made 'simmon beer sometime and lye soap just 'bout in de same way, hopper was 'rected for dat. 'Simmons was put wid locust; hickory ashes was used to make soap. Every Christmas us got ginger cake and sassafras tea.
"Doctor Scott was de doctor for de slaves. Us niggers was mighty sad when his son Willie's gun went off by accident and kill him in 1868. De Doctor never smile again after dat cumbustion of dat gun. Does you 'member de time Mr. Till Dixon was drowned? He your uncle? 'Twas de fourth of July, I 'member dat day, and a boy Freddie Habbernick was drowned in Catawba in 1903. Dat river take a many soul over dat other shore, I tells you."
=S-260-264-N= =Project 935= =Samuel Addison= =Richland County=
=EX-SLAVE 91 YEARS OLD, CONGAREE, SOUTH CAROLINA=
=_THERE WAS NO GOD BUT MOSSA AN' MISSUS_=
"My pa name was Nat White who tell me dat I was bo'n about 1842. My ma was name Jane White. My pa use to carry all de votes from McClellanville to Charleston. He come from Tibbin, South Carolina. He also been all 'round de United States. My Ma's Ma bin name Kate. I had sense to know 'em all.
"I know a heap o' sojus had on nice buttons an' had plumes in dere hats. Dey wus singin' an' playin' on a flute dis song, 'I wish I wus in Dixie,' an' dey went in de big house an' broke up ebery thing. Dey say to me, 'you are as free as a frog,' an' dey say to my pa, 'all your chillun are free.' Dey say 'little niggers is free as a frog' an' we holler much.
"I aint nebber do no work, but I kin 'member I use to wear a pant you call chambery. Ma cook a pot o' peas an' weevils wus always on de top. Ma would den turn mush an' clean a place on de floor, she make a paddle an' we eat off de floor. She use to bake ash cake too. I didn' know 'bout no garden, all I know I eat. Dis what dey put on me I wear em. I nebber know nothin' 'bout shoes.
"My master been name Bill Cooper who had a gal an' a son. De gal been name Mary an' de boy Bill like de daddy.
"Tarbin wus a big house, but I aint nebber know de number o' slaves or 'mount o' lan' dat went wid um.
"De slaves had a church name Lazarus an' some went to de white church. Dey had us bar off frum de whites an' we use to look t'rough a glass door. I member when a preacher say, 'honor your missus an' mossa dat your days may be long for dey is your only God.' My Ma tell me when dey use to lick dem she use to sing dis song, 'do pray for me' en ma say w'en de lickin' got too hot she say 'oh God' en mossa say, 'show me dat damn man', den he say, 'I am your only God. My preacher name wus Sabie Mood.
"De slaves couldn't git any news, but dey had to work on Sunday if de week bin bad. W'en it rain dey use to shuck co'n.
"W'en Bill Cooper die he holler to me, 'I'm burnin' up' an' ma say missus say, 'iron me too hot, she meat is red like fire.'
"We use to sing song like dese;
'Mary bring de news an' Martha win de prize. I mus die an' will die in dat day See dat oars like feathers springing'
"I marry Sarah on December 18th. Him de only one I marry an' we had a big weddin' an' plenty o' somethin' to eat. We had fourteen chillun.
"Pa say mossa use to take de fork an' punch holes in dere body w'en he got mad. People always die frum de pisin.
"Dis is all I know I ain't go tell no lie, dat what pa say, I moved here atter de yankees come."
Reference;
Uncle Dave White, 91 years old Congaree, South Carolina.
=S-260-264-N= =Project 1885= =Laura L. Middleton= =Charleston, S.C.=
=No. Words: 452=
=UNCLE DAVE WHITE=
=_An Old Time Negro_=
Uncle Dave White, one of the waning tribe lives in a simple homestead down a dusty and wind-swept curved country lane on the out skirt of McClenville, forty miles North of Charleston rests the simple shanty of David White, aged Negro, affectionally known to the Negro and white population for many miles around as "uncle Dave".
His quiet unadulterated mode of living and his never changing grateful disposition typifies the true Southern Negro of pre-Civil War days; a race that was commonplace and plentiful at one time, but is now almost extinct, having dwindled in the face of more adequate educational facilities.
His homestead, resembling a barn more than a place to live in. To protect the house against the hazardous affects of imperilling winds, long poles are made to prop the somewhat dilapidated shanty.
A visit to his home, one dark and dreary day in late December, found him as usual in the best of spirits. He welcomed the visitors with a cordiality that would rival the meeting of two long lost friends. The front has no main entrance; the main door is around the back. There are conspicuous displays of many ancient burlap bags, heavy laden, hanging from high rafters, which contained corn and peanuts.
"But why not keep them in your barn, Uncle Dave!" one would ask.
"Well, suh, I keep mah co'n and grain nuts in yuh so mak eye can sta' on 'em," he replies.
A further inspection of the premises revealed other precautions he had taken against the unwelcomed guests; a crude lock on each door and many other precautionary measures convicted, that he was willing to take no unnecessary chances at having his worldly goods stolen.
His age is truly a matter of conjecture. The more you look at him the more uncertain you become. His droopy carriage and shriveled feature betray you at first sight. The first impression will lead one to believe that he is about one hundred years of age, and later it will appear that he is not that old.
We had known "uncle Dave" for a long time; for years it had been a familiar sight to see him trudging the streets of the town with burlap bags thrown across his shoulders containing such household necessities as grits, salt, sugar, etc., and such articles as the house wives would give him out of sheer sympathy. To every friendly greeting he always had the humble response of "Tank Gawd, my eye is open."
He is well known throughout the town. One Sunday night a short time ago, while the services of a white church were in progress, distinguishable sounds of Amen were heard at regular intervals coming from the outside. On investigating they discovered that it was "uncle Dave" reverently enjoying the proceedings. Many times he has been seen outside the same church listening to the services.
_SOURCE_ Interview with (Mrs.) Minnie Huges, age 43, 179 Spring Street, welfare worker.
=Project 1655= =Martha S. Pinckney= =Charleston, S.C.=
=FOLKLORE=
=Approx. _637_ words=
=_INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE_=
Everybody in the town of Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish (across the Bay from Charleston) knows "Tena White, the washer," "Tena, the cook," "Maum Tena" or "Da Tena, the nurse"--the same individual, accomplished in each art, but best as a nurse.
The house where Tena lives is the second in a row of Negro houses. The writer, calling from the gate, was answered by Tena, a middle-sized woman of neat figure. As the writer ascended the steps a friendly cur wagged itself forward and was promptly reproved by Tena, who placed a chair, the seat of which she wiped carefully with her dress. The piazza was clean and on the floor a black baby slept on a folded cloth, with a pillow under its head. The writer was soon on friendly terms with Maum Tena, and was told: "As soon as my eye set on you, I see you favor the people I know. My people belonged to Mr. William Venning. The plantation was Remley Point. I couldn't zactly member my pa's name. I member when de war come though. Oh dem drum; I nebber hear such a drum in my life! De people like music; dey didn't care nothing bout de Yankees, but dem bands of music! My mother name Molly Williams. My pa dead long before that. All my people dead. I stayin' here with my youngest sister chile--youngest son. He got seven head ob chillun."
"I can do anything--wash or cook--aint no more cook though. Oh yes" and her eyes sparkled, "I know how to cook de turkey, and de ham wid de little brown spots all over de top. Nobody can collec' my soup for me; I first go choose my soup bone. One wid plenty richness. My chile say, 'While my Tena live I wouldn't want nobody else.' But I couldn't take de sponsibility now."
"Maum Tena, how many children did you have?"
"Maggie an Etta an Georgie an Annie, etc., etc." so fast and so many that one couldn't keep up.
"Wait, Maum Tena. How many were there in all--your own children?"
"I nebber had a chile."
"Oh, those were the children you nursed."
"I marry twice. Caesar Robson an Aleck White."
"Did you ever sing spirituals?"
"No, I nebber had time."
"But you sang lullabies to the children."
"Oh, I sing someting to keep de chile quiet."
"Where is your church, Maum Tena?"
"De Methodist Church right here. I know I got for die some day. He keep me distance,[B] but when I look an see my flesh, I tenk de Lord for ebbery year what pass on my head. Taint my goodness, tis His goodness. Nothing but the pureness of heart will see Him."
[B] Has lived a long time.
Tena was shocked and disgusted at the idea of the Lord being a "black man." She said with perfect certainty that he was "no such."
"We all goin to de same Heaven, and there aint no black people there."
The writer asked Tena her age; before she could answer, her great-niece came to the door and said, "She eighty-eight." Tena was indignant. Her eyes flashed. "I aint goin to hab nobody come along puttin down my age what dunno anyting about it. I ought to be as high as nine. Let um be as high as nine."[C]
"If I didn't been round de house wid white people I wouldn't hab dis opportunity today, an dey good to me an gib me nuf to keep my soul an body together. My mother raise me right. When de Yankee come through we been at Remley Point. My Ma took care ob me. She shut me up and she gard me. De Yankee been go in de colored people house, an dey mix all up, an dey do jus what dey want. Dey been brutish.
"De beautiful tureen, stand so high and hab foot so long" lifting her hands, "an all de beautiful ting smash up, an all de meat an ham in de smoke house de stribute um all out to de people, an de dairy broke up, an de horse an de cow kill. Nothin leave. Scatter ebberyting. Nothin leave."
[C] Meaning her age should be in the nineties.
=SOURCE: Tena White, Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish, S.C.= =Age: Approximately 90.=
=Project #1655= =W.W. Dixon= =Winnsboro, S.C.=
=BILL WILLIAMS=
=_EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD._=
Bill Williams lives on the Durham place, nine miles east of Winnsboro, S.C., on the warm charity of Mr. Arthur M. Owens, the present owner. He is decrepit and unable to work.
"I was born a slave of old Marster John Durham, on a plantation 'bout five miles east of Blackstock, S.C. My mistress name Margaret. Deir chillun was Miss Cynthia, Marse Johnnie, Marse Willie and Marse Charnel. I forgits de others. Then, when young Marse Johnnie marry Miss Minnie Mobley, my mammy, Kizzie, my daddy, Eph, and me was give to them. Daddy and mammy had four other chillun. They was Eph, Reuben, Winnie and Jordan. Us live in rows of log houses, a path 'twixt de two rows. Us was close to de spring, where us got water and mammy did de white folks washin' every week. I kep' de fires burnin' 'round de pots, so de water would keep boilin'. Dat's 'bout all de work I 'members doin' in slavery time. Daddy was a field hand and ploughed a big red mule, name Esau. How many slaves was dere? More than I could count. In them days I couldn't count up to a hundred. How, then, I gonna kno' how many dere was? You have to ask somebody else. I'll just risk sayin' dere was big and little ones, just a little drove of them dat went to de field in cotton pickin' time, a hollerin' and a singin' glory hallelujah all day long, and pick two bales a day.
"Marse Johnnie and Miss Minnie mighty good marster and mistress to deir slaves. We had good rock chimneys to our houses, plank floors, movable bedsteads, wid good wheat straw ticks, and cotton pillows. Other folks' slaves was complainin' 'bout dirt floors in de houses, boards to sleep on, no ticks, and rags for pillows. Us got flour bread and 'lasses on Sunday, too, I'm here to tell you.
"They sho' fetch dat catechism 'round on Sunday and telled you who made you, what Him make you out of, and what Him make you for. And they say dat from de crown of your head to de top of your big toe, de chief end of every finger and every toe, even to de ends of your two thumbs, was made to glorify de Lord! Missus more 'ticular 'bout dat catechism than de marster. Her grandpa, old Marster John Mobley was a great Baptist. After de crops was laid by, every August, him visit his granddaughter. While dere, he take de slaves and dam up de branch, to make a pond for to pool de water. Then he take to de hill just 'bove, cut down pine tops, and make a brush arbor to hold de prachin' in. 'Vite white preachers, Mr. Cartledge, Mr. Mellichamp or Mr. Van, to come hold a 'vival for all de slaves in and 'round and 'bout de country. I's seen 27 go down and come up out dat pool, a splashin' water from deir faces, one Sunday evenin'. A terrible thing happen one time at de baptism. It was while de war was gwine on. Marse Johnnie had come back from Virginia, on a furlough for ten days. Old Marse John come to see him and fetch Rev. Mr. Cartledge wid him. People was pow'ful consarned 'bout 'ligion 'long 'bout dat time. Me and all de little slave boys jined dat time and dere was a little boy name Ike, a slave of old Doctor John Douglas, dat jined. Him was just 'bout my age, seven or eight years old. After him jined, him wanna back out of goin' down into de water. Dat evenin', after dinner, us was all dressed in a kind of white slip-over gown for de occasion. When it come Ike's time to receive de baptism, him was led by his mammy, by de hand, to de edge of de water and his hand given to de preacher in charge, who received him. Then he commenced: 'On de confession----'. 'Bout dat time little Ike broke loose, run up de bank, and his mammy and all de slaves holler: 'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old Marse John holler: 'Ketch him!' They ketch little Ike and fetch him back to old Marse John and his mammy. Marse John explain to him dat it better to have water in de nose, now, than fire in de soul forever after. Little Ike say nothin'. His mammy take his hand and lead him to de preacher de same way her did befo'. Little Ike went down into de water. Preacher take him but when little Ike got down under dat water, de preacher lose de hold and bless God, in some way little Ike got 'twixt and 'tween de preacher's legs and comin' out behind him, turnt him sommersets and climb out on de bank a runnin'. Little Ike's mammy cry out: 'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old marster say: 'No let him go to de devil. Thank de Lord him none of our niggers anyhow. Him just one of Dr. Douglas' Presbyterians niggers dat's destined to hell and be damned, I reckon."
=Project #1655= =W.W. Dixon= =Winnsboro, S.C.=
=JESSE WILLIAMS=
=_EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD._=
At the end of one of the silent streets of west Chester, S.C., that prolongs itself into a road leading to the Potter's Field and on to the County Poorhouse, sets a whitewashed frame cottage. It has two rooms, the chimney in the center providing each with a fireplace. A porch, supported by red cedar posts, fronts the road side. In this abode lives Jesse Williams with his daughter, Edna, and her six children. Edna pays the rent, and is a grenadier in the warfare of keeping the wolf from the door.
"You say I looks pretty old? Well, you's right 'bout de old part but I's far 'way from de pretty part. I got a hand glass in my house and when I shaves on Sunday mornin's, I often wonders who I is. I doesn't look lak me. My best friend couldn't say I got much on looks, but my old dog rap his tail on de floor lak he might say so, if him could speak.
"I's been off and on dese streets of Chester for eighty-three years. I was born a slave of Marse Adam C. Walker and my old miss was Mistress Eliza, dat's his wife.
"My pappy name Henry and mammy name Maria. I can see them plowin' in de field right now. Mammy plowin' same as pappy and me runnin' 'long behind, takin' de dirt off de cotton plants where de twister plow turnt de clods on de plants. Then, when dat cotton field git white and red wid blooms in summer and white agin in de fall, I have to shoulder my poke and go to de field and pick dat cotton. I 'members de fust day dat I pick a hundred pounds. Marse Adam pull out a big flat black pocket-book and gived me a shinplaster, and say: 'Jesse, ever time your basket h'ist de beam of de steelyards to 100, you gits a shinplaster.' I make eighty cents dat year but I have to git up when de chickens crow for day and git in de field when de dew was heavy on de cotton. Does I think dat was cheatin'? Oh, no sir! I wasn't 'ceivin' old marster. Him wink at dat, and take a pound off for dew. I'd a made more money but they took me out de field in November, to drive de mules to de hoss-gin. Dat was play work, just a settin' up dere and poppin' de whip.
"Marster live in a big two-story, eight-room house. De kitchen was out from de house. After Christmas, dat year, I was house boy and drive de buggy for Miss Eliza when her want to go visitin'. I was fed well and spent my money for a knife, candy, and firecrackers.
"My marster and missus have chillun. They was Peter, Jerry, Miss Elnora, and Miss Sallie, dat I play wid in slavery time.