Fanny relates that Judge Green's slaves all went to "meetin" every Sunday in the white folks church. The darkies going in the after-noon and the white people going in the forenoon.

The white preacher ministered to both the white and colored people.

If the Negroes were sick and needed mo [HW: den] "old Marse" knowed what to give em, he "sont the white folk's doctor." "You see, Miss," said old Fanny with pride, "I wuz owned by big white folks."

She tells that Judge Green had two young sons (not old enough to fight) and three daughters, 'jest little shavers, so high', (here Fanny indicated from three, to four or five feet at intervals, to indicate small children's height,) then added, "We allus said, 'Little Miss Peggy', 'Little Miss Nancy', and 'Little Missz Jane', and 'Young Marse Jim' and 'Little Marster Bob'". "Did you ever forget to speak to the children in that way?" the interviewer asked. "No, Miss, we sho didn't, we knowed better dan to fergit!"

Fanny is very feeble in every way, voice is weak and her step most uncertain, but she is straight of figure, and was ripping up smoking tobacco sacks with which her daughter is to make 'a purty bed spread'. Fanny and her husband, another ex-slave, live with Fanny's daughter. The daughter supports her mother.



[HW: Dist. 6 Ex-Slave #80]

Mary A. Crawford Re-Search Worker

HENRY NIX—Ex-Slave 808 E. Slaton Ave. Griffin, Georgia Interviewed

September 24, 1936 [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

[TR: Numerous handwritten changes were made in this interview. Where a word appears in brackets after a HW entry, it was replaced by that handwritten entry. All numbers were originally spelled out.]

Henry Nix was born March 15, 1848 in Upson County, about 5 miles from Barnesville, Georgia.

[HW: His] [Henry's] parents were John Nix and Catherine Willis, who were not married, because as Henry reports, John Nix was an overseer on the plantation of Mr. Jasper Willis, "and when Marster found out what kind of man John Nix was he (Nix) had to skip out."

When Henry "was a good sized boy, his mother married a darky man", and 3 other children were born, 2 boys and a girl. Henry loved his mother very much and [HW: says] relates that on her death bed she told him who his father was, and [TR: "also told him" crossed out] how to live so as not to get into trouble, and, [HW: due to her advice] that he has never been in jail nor in any meanness of any kind [TR: "due to what she told him" crossed out].

Mr. Jasper Willis, [TR: "who was" crossed out] Henry's owner, lived on a large plantation of about 300 three hundred acres in Upson County, [HW: and] [Mr. Willis] owned only about 50 or 60 slaves as well as Henry can remember. The old man considers Mr. Willis "the best marster that a darky ever had," saying that he "sho" made his darkies work and mind, but he never beat them or let the patter-role do it, though sometimes he did use a switch on 'em". Henry recalls that he received "a sound whuppin onct, 'case he throwed a rock at one o' Marse Jasper's fine cows and broke her laig!"

When asked if Mr. Willis had the slaves taught to read and write, Henry hooted at the idea, saying emphatically, "No, Mam, 'Ole Marse' wuz sho hard about dat. He said 'Niggers' wuz made by de good Lawd to work, and onct when my Uncle stole a book and wuz a trying to learn how to read and write, Marse Jasper had the white doctor take off my Uncle's fo' finger right down to de 'fust jint'. Marstar said he fixed dat darky as a sign fo de res uv 'em! No, Miss, we wuzn't larned!"

Mr. Willis allowed his slaves from Saturday at noon till Monday morning as a holiday, and then they always had a week for Christmas. All of the Negroes went to meeting on Sunday afternoon in the white people's church and were served by the white minister.

Henry says that they had a "circuit doctor" on his Marster's place and the doctor came around regularly at least every two weeks, "case Marster paid him to do so and [HW: he] 'xamined evah darky big and little on dat plantation."

One time Henry recalls that he "had a turrible cowbunkle" on the back of his neck and 'marse' had the doctor to cut it open. Henry knowed better den to holler and cut up, too, when it was done.

The old man remembers going to war with his young master and remaining with him for the two years he was in service. They were in Richmond when the city surrendered to Grant and soon after that the young master was killed in the fight at Tumlin Gap. Henry hardly knows how he got back to "Ole Marster" but is thankful he did.

After freedom, [HW: al]most all of Mr. Willis' darkies stayed on with him but Henry "had to act smart and run away." He went over into Alabama and managed "to keep [TR: "his" crossed out] body and soul together somehow, for several years and then [TR: "he" crossed out] went back to "Ole Marster."

Henry is well and rather active for his 87 or 88 years and likes to work. He has a job now cleaning off the graves at the white cemetery but he and his wife depend mainly [HW: for support] on their son [TR: "for support" crossed out], who lives just across the street from them.



[HW: Dist. 6]

Mary A. Crawford Re-Search Worker

LEWIS OGLETREE—Ex-Slave 501 E. Tinsley Street Griffin, Georgia

August 21, 1936 [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

[TR: Numerous handwritten changes were made in this interview. Where a word appears in brackets after a HW entry, it was replaced by that handwritten entry.]

Lewis Ogletree was born on the plantation of Mr. Fred Crowder of Spalding County, Georgia [HW: Ga], near Griffin. [HW: He] [Lewis] does not know exactly when he was born, but says that [TR: "he knows that" crossed out] he was maybe 17 years old at the end of the war in '65. This would make him 88 now.

Mr. Crowder was the owner of a large number of slaves and among them was Lettie Crowder, [TR: "(married an Ogletree) the" crossed out] housekeeper and head servant in the home of Mr. Fred Crowder. Lettie was Lewis' mother.

Lewis remembers standing inside the picket fence with a lot of other little pick-a-ninnies watching for Sherman's Army, and when the Yankees got close enough to be heard plainly, they hid in the bushes or under the house.

The Yankees poured into the yard and into the house, making Lettie open the smoke-house and get them Mr. Crowder's best whiskey and oftentimes they made her cook them a meal of ham and eggs.

Mr. Crowder, Lettie's master, was ill during the war, having a cancer on his left hand.

Lewis reports that Mr. Crowder was a very hard master but a good one saying, "That it wasn't any use for the "patty-role" (the Patrol) to come to Marse Crowder's, 'cause he would not permit him to "tech one of his darkies."

Mrs. Crowder, the "ole mistis", had died just before the war broke out and Mr. Crowder lived alone with his house servants.

There were two young sons in the war. The oldest son, Col. Crowder, was in Virginia.

Lewis said that his Master whipped him only once and that was for stealing. One day when the old master was taking a nap, Lewis "minding off the flies" and thinking his "marster" asleep slipped over to the big table and snatched some candy. Just as he picked up a lump, (it was "rock candy,") "Wham! Old [HW: Marster] [mastah] had me, and when he got through, well, Lewis, didn't steal anymore candy nor nothin'." "Mastah nevah took no foolishness from his darkies."

Lewis remembers very clearly when Mr. Crowder gave his darkies their freedom. "Mastah sont me and my mammy out to the cabin to tell all de darkies to come up to de "big house". When they got there, there were so many that [HW: they] [some] were up on the porch, on the steps and all over the yard."

"Mr. Crowder stood up on the porch and said, "You darkies are all free now. You don't belong to me no more. Now pack up your things and go on off." My Lord! How them darkies did bawl! And most of them did not leave ole mastah."



[RICHARD ORFORD, Age around 85]

The following version of slavery was told by Mr. Richard Orford of 54 Brown Avenue in South Atlanta. Mr. Orford is large in statue and although 85 years of age he has a very active mind as well as a good sense of humor.

Mr. Orford was born in Pike County, Georgia (near the present site of Griffin) in 1842. His master's name was Jeff Orford. Mr. Orford describes him as follows: "Marster wus a rich man an' he had 'bout 250 slaves—'course dat was'nt so many 'cause some of de folks 'round dere had 400 and 500. He had plenty of land too—I don't know how many acres. He raised everything he needed on de plantation an' never had to buy nothing. I 'members when de Yankees come through—ol' marster had 'bout 200 barrels of whiskey hid in de smokehouse—dat wus de fust time I ever got drunk."

"Besides hisself an' his wife ol' marster had two boys an' nine girls".

Continuing, Mr. Orford said: "My Ma did'nt have many chillun—jus' ten boys an' nine girls. I went to work in marster's house when I wus five years old an' I stayed dere 'till I wus thirty-five. De fust work I had to do wus to pick up chips, feed chickens, an' keep de yard clean. By de time I wus eight years old I wus drivin' my missus in de carriage."

"All de rest of de slaves wus fiel' hands. Dey spent dere time plowing an' takin' care of de plantation in general. Dere wus some who split rails an' others who took care of de stock an' made de harness—de slaves did everything dat needed to be done on de plantation. Everybody had to git up 'fore daybreak an' even 'fore it wus light enuff to see dey wus in de fiel' waitin' to see how to run a furrow. 'Long 'bout nine o'clock breakfus' wus sent to de fiel' in a wagon an' all of 'em stopped to eat. At twelve o'clock dey stopped again to eat dinner. After dat dey worked 'till it wus to dark to see. Women in dem days could pick five-hundred pounds of cotton a day wid a child in a sack on dere backs."

"When de weather wus too bad to work in de fiel' de hands cribed an' shucked corn. If dey had any work of dere own to do dey had to do it at night".

According to Mr. Orford there was always sufficient food on the Orford plantation for the slaves. All cooking was done by one cook at the cook house. In front of the cook house were a number of long tables where the slaves ate their meals when they came in from the fields. Those children who were too young to work in the fields were also fed at this house but instead of eating from the tables as did the grown-ups they were fed from long troughs much the same as little pigs. Each was given a spoon at meal time and then all of the food was dumped into the trough at the same time.

The week day diet for the most part consisted of meats and vegetables—"sometimes we even got chicken an' turkey"—says Mr. Orford. Coffee was made by parching meal or corn and then boiling it in water. None of the slaves ever had to steal anything to eat on the Orford plantation.

All of the clothing worn on this plantation was made there. Some of the women who were too old to work in the fields did the spinning and the weaving as well as the sewing of the garments. Indigo was used to dye the cloth. The women wore callico dresses and the men wore ansenberg pants and shirts. The children wore a one piece garment not unlike a slightly lengthened dress. This was kept in place by a string tied around their waists. There were at least ten shoemakers on the plantation and they were always kept bust [TR: busy?] making shoes although no slave ever got but one pair of shoes a year. These shoes were made of very hard leather and were called brogans.

In the rear of the master's house was located the slave's quarters. Each house was made of logs and was of the double type so that two families could be accommodated. The holes and chinks in the walls were daubed with mud to keep the weather out. At one end of the structure was a large fireplace about six feet in width. The chimney was made of dirt.

As for furniture Mr. Orford says: "You could make your own furniture if you wanted to but ol' marster would give you a rope bed an' two or three chairs an' dat wus all. De mattress wus made out of a big bag or a tickin' stuffed wid straw—dat wus all de furniture in any of de houses."

"In dem days folks did'nt git sick much like dey do now, but when dey did de fust thing did fer 'em wus to give 'em blue mass. If dey had a cold den dey give 'em blue mass pills. When dey wus very sick de marster sent fer de doctor."

"Our ol' marster wus'nt like some of de other marsters in de community—he never did do much whuppin of his slaves. One time I hit a white man an' ol' marster said he was goin' to cut my arm off an' dat wus de las' I heard of it. Some of de other slaves useter git whuppins fer not workin' an' fer fightin'. My mother got a whuppin once fer not workin'. When dey got so bad ol' marster did'nt bother 'bout whuppin' 'em—he jes' put 'em on de block an' en' sold 'em like he would a chicken or somethin'. Slaves also got whuppins when dey wus caught off the plantation wid out a pass—de Paddie-Rollers whupped you den. I have knowed slaves to run away an' hide in de woods—some of 'em even raised families dere."

"None of us wus allowed to learn to read or to write but we could go to church along wid de white folks. When de preacher talked to de slaves he tol' 'em not to steal fum de marster an' de missus 'cause dey would be stealing fum dere selves—he tol' 'em to ask fer what dey wanted an' it would be givven to 'em."

When Sherman marched through Georgia a number of the slaves on the Orford plantation joined his army. However, a large number remained on the plantation even after freedom was declared. Mr. Orford was one of those who remained. While the Yankee soldiers were in the vicinity of the Orford plantation Mr. Orford, the owner of the plantation, hid in the woods and had some of the slaves bring his food, etc. to him.

Mr. Orford was thirty-five years of age when he left the plantation and at that time he married a twelve year old girl. Since that time he has been the father of twenty-three children, some of whom are dead and some of whom are still alive.



EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW

ANNA PARKES, Age 86 150 Strong Street Athens, Georgia

Written by: Sarah H. Hall Federal Writers' Project Athens, Georgia

Edited by: John N. Booth District Supervisor Federal Writers' Project Residencies 6 & 7 Augusta, Georgia

Anna Parkes' bright eyes sparkled as she watched the crowd that thronged the hallway outside the office where she awaited admittance. A trip to the downtown section is a rare event in the life of an 86 year old Negress, and, accompanied by her daughter, she was making the most of this opportunity to see the world that lay so far from the door of the little cottage where she lives on Strong Street. When asked if she liked to talk of her childhood days before the end of the Civil War, she eagerly replied: "'Deed, I does." She was evidently delighted to have found someone who actually wanted to listen to her, and proudly continued:

"Dem days sho' wuz sompin' to talk 'bout. I don't never git tired of talkin' 'bout 'em. Paw, he wuz Olmstead Lumpkin, and Ma wuz Liza Lumpkin, and us b'longed to Jedge Joe Henry Lumpkin. Us lived at de Lumpkin home place on Prince Avenue. I wuz born de same week as Miss Callie Cobb, and whilst I don't know z'ackly what day I wuz born, I kin be purty sho' 'bout how many years ole I is by axin' how ole Miss Callie is. Fust I 'members much 'bout is totin' de key basket 'round 'hind Ole Miss when she give out de vittals. I never done a Gawd's speck of work but dat. I jes' follered 'long atter Ole Miss wid 'er key basket.

"Did dey pay us any money? Lawsy, Lady! What for? Us didn't need no money. Ole Marster and Ole Miss all time give us plenty good sompin' teat, and clo'es, and dey let us sleep in a good cabin, but us did have money now and den. A heap of times us had nickles and dimes. Dey had lots of comp'ny at Ole Marster's, and us allus act mighty spry waitin' on 'em, so dey would 'member us when dey lef'. Effen it wuz money dey gimme, I jes' couldn't wait to run to de sto' and spend it for candy."

"What else did you buy with the money?", she was asked.

"Nuffin' else," was the quick reply. "All a piece of money meant to me dem days, wuz candy, and den mo' candy. I never did git much candy as I wanted when I wuz chillun."

Here her story took a rambling turn.

"You see I didn't have to save up for nuffin'. Ole Marster and Ole Miss, dey took keer of us. Dey sho' wuz good white folkses, but den dey had to be good white folkses, kaze Ole Marster, he wuz Jedge Lumpkin, and de Jedge wuz bound to make evvybody do right, and he gwine do right his own self 'fore he try to make udder folkses behave deyselvs. Ain't nobody, nowhar, as good to dey Negroes as my white folkses wuz."

"Who taught you to say 'Negroes' so distinctly?" she was asked.

"Ole Marster," she promptly answered, "He 'splained dat us wuz not to be 'shamed of our race. He said us warn't no 'niggers'; he said us wuz 'Negroes', and he 'spected his Negroes to be de best Negroes in de whole land.

"Old Marster had a big fine gyarden. His Negroes wukked it good, and us wuz sho' proud of it. Us lived close in town, and all de Negroes on de place wuz yard and house servants. Us didn't have no gyardens 'round our cabins, kaze all of us et at de big house kitchen. Ole Miss had flowers evvywhar 'round de big house, and she wuz all time givin' us some to plant 'round de cabins.

"All de cookin' wuz done at de big house kitchen, and hit wuz a sho' 'nough big kitchen. Us had two boss cooks, and lots of helpers, and us sho' had plenny of good sompin' teat. Dat's de Gawd's trufe, and I means it. Heap of folkses been tryin' to git me to say us didn't have 'nough teat and dat us never had nuffin' fittin' teat. But ole as I is, I cyan' start tellin' no lies now. I gotter die fo' long, and I sho' wants to be clean in de mouf and no stains or lies on my lips when I dies. Our sompin' teat wuz a heap better'n what us got now. Us had plenny of evvything right dar in de yard. Chickens, ducks, geese, guineas, tukkeys, and de smoke'ouse full of good meat. Den de mens, dey wuz all time goin' huntin', and fetchin' in wild tukkeys, an poddiges, and heaps and lots of 'possums and rabbits. Us had many fishes as us wanted. De big fine shads, and perch, and trouts; dem wuz de fishes de Jedge liked mos'. Catfishes won't counted fittin' to set on de Jedges table, but us Negroes wuz 'lowed to eat all of 'em us wanted. Catfishes mus' be mighty skace now kaze I don't know when ever I is seed a good ole river catfish a-flappin' his tail. Dey flaps dey tails atter you done kilt 'em, and cleaned 'em, and drap 'em in de hot grease to fry. Sometimes dey nigh knock de lid offen de fryin' pan.

"Ole Marster buyed Bill Finch down de country somewhar', and dey called him 'William' at de big house. He wuz de tailor, and he made clo'es for de young marsters. William wuz right smart, and one of his jobs wuz to lock up all de vittals atter us done et much as us wanted. All of us had plenny, but dey won't nuffin' wasted 'round Ole Marster's place.

"Ole Miss wuz young and pretty dem days, and Ole Marster won't no old man den, but us had to call 'em 'Ole Miss,' and 'Ole Marster,' kaze dey chilluns wuz called 'Young Marster' and 'Young Mistess' f'um de very day dey wuz born."

When asked to describe the work assigned to little Negroes, she quickly answered: "Chilluns didn't do nuffin'. Grownup Negroes done all de wuk. All chilluns done wuz to frolic and play. I wuz jes' 'lowed ter tote de key basket kaze I wuz all time hangin' 'round de big house, and wanted so bad to stay close to my ma in de kitchen and to be nigh Ole Miss.

"What sort of clo'es did I wear in dem days? Why Lady, I had good clo'es. Atter my little mistesses wore dey clo'es a little, Ole Miss give 'em to me. Ma allus made me wear clean, fresh clo'es, and go dressed up good all de time so I'd be fittin' to carry de key basket for Ole Miss. Some of de udder slave chilluns had homemade shoes, but I allus had good sto'-bought shoes what my young mistess done outgrowed, or what some of de comp'ny gimme. Comp'ny what had chilluns 'bout my size, gimme heaps of clo'es and shoes, and some times dey didn't look like dey'd been wore none hardly.

"Ole Marster sho' had lots of Negroes 'round his place. Deir wuz Aunt Charlotte, and Aunt Julie, and de two cooks, and Adeline, and Mary, and Edie, and Jimmy. De mens wuz Charlie, and Floyd, and William, and Daniel. I disremembers de res' of 'em.

"Ole Marster never whipped none of his Negroes, not dat I ever heared of. He tole 'em what he wanted done, and give 'em plenny of time to do it. Dey wuz allus skeert effen dey didn't be smart and do right, dey might git sold to some marster dat would beat 'em, and be mean to 'em. Us knowed dey won't many marsters as good to dey slaves as Ole Marster wuz to us. Us would of most kilt ourself wukkin', fo' us would of give him a reason to wanna git rid of us. No Ma'am, Ole Marster ain't never sold no slave, not whilst I kin 'member. Us wuz allus skeert dat effen a Negro git lazy and triflin' he might git sold.

"No Negro never runned away f'um our place. Us didn't have nuffin' to run f'um, and nowhar to run to. Us heared of patterollers but us won't 'fraid none kaze us knowed won't no patteroller gwine tech none of Jedge Lumpkin's Negroes.

"Us had our own Negro church. I b'lieves dey calls it Foundry Street whar de ole church wuz. Us had meetin' evvy Sunday. Sometimes white preachers, and sometimes Negro preachers done de preachin'. Us didn't have no orgin or pianny in church den. De preacher hysted de hymns. No Ma'am, I cyan' 'member no songs us sung den dat wuz no diffunt f'um de songs now-a-days, 'ceppen' dey got orgin music wid de singin' now. Us had c'lections evvy Sunday in church den, same as now. Ole Marster give us a little change for c'lection on Sunday mawnin' kaze us didn't have no money of our own, and he knowed how big it made us feel ter drap money in de c'lection plate. Us Meferdis had our baptizin's right dar in de church, same as us does now. And 'vival meetin's. Dey jes' broke out any time. Out on de plantations dey jes' had 'vival meetin's in layin'-by times, but here in town us had 'em all durin' de year. Ole Marster used ter say: 'Mo' 'vivals, better Negroes.'

"Evvybody oughter be good and jine de church, but dey sho' oughtn't to jine effen dey still gwine to act like Satan.

"Us chillun would git up long 'fore day Chris'mas mawnin'. Us used ter hang our stockin's over de fire place, but when Chris'mas mawnin' come dey wuz so full, hit would of busted 'em to hang 'em up on a nail, so dey wuz allus layin' on Ma's cheer when us waked up. Us chillun won't 'lowed to go 'round de big house early on Chris'mas mawnin' kaze us mought 'sturb our white folkses' rest, and den dey done already seed dat us got plenny Santa Claus in our own cabins. Us didn't know nuffin' 'bout New Years Day when I wuz chillun.

"When any of his Negroes died Ole Marster wuz mighty extra good. He give plenny of time for a fun'ral sermon in de afternoon. Most of da fun'rals wuz in de yard under de trees by de cabins. Atter de sermon, us would go 'crost de hill to de Negro buyin' ground, not far f'um whar our white folkses wuz buried.

"Us never bothered none 'bout Booker Washin'ton, or Mister Lincum, or none of dem folkses 'way off dar kaze us had our raisin' f'um de Lumpkins and dey's de bes' folkses dey is anywhar'. Won't no Mister Lincum or no Booker Washin'ton gwine to help us like Ole Marster and us knowed dat good and plenny.

"I cyan' 'member much 'bout playin' no special games 'ceppin' 'Ole Hundud.' Us would choose one, and dat one would hide his face agin' a tree whilst he counted to a hundud. Den he would hunt for all de others. Dey done been hidin' whilst he wuz countin'. Us larned to count a-playin' 'Ole Hundud'.

"No Ma'am, us never went to no school 'til atter de War. Den I went some at night. I wukked in de day time atter freedom come. My eyes bothered me so I didn't go to school much.

"Yes Ma'am, dey took mighty good care of us effen us got sick. Ole Marster would call in Doctor Moore or Doctor Carleton and have us looked atter. De 'omans had extra good care when dey chilluns comed. 'Til freedom come, I wuz too little to know much 'bout dat myself, but Ma allus said dat Negro 'omans and babies wuz looked atter better 'fore freedom come dan dey ever wuz anymo'.

"Atter de War wuz over, a big passel of Yankee mens come to our big house and stayed. Dey et and slept dar, and dey b'haved powerful nice and perlite to all our white folkses, and dey ain't bother Jedge Lumpkin's servants none. But den evvybody allus b'haved 'round Jedge Lumpkin's place. Ain't nobody gwine to be brash 'nough to do no devilment 'round a Jedges place.

"Hit was long atter de War 'fo' I married. I cyan' 'member nuffin' 'bout my weddin' dress. 'Pears like to me I been married mos' all of my life. Us jes' went to de preacher man's house and got married. Us had eight chillun, but dey is all dead now 'ceppin' two; one son wukkin' way off f'um here, and my daughter in Athens.

"I knows I wuz fixed a heap better fo' de War, than I is now, but I sho' don't want no slav'ry to come back. It would be fine effen evvy Negro had a marster like Jedge Lumpkin, but dey won't all dat sort."

Anna leaned heavily on her cane as she answered the knock on the front door when we visited her home. "Come in," she invited, and led the way through her scrupulously tidy house to the back porch.

"De sun feels good," she said, "and it sorter helps my rheumatiz. My rheumatiz been awful bad lately. I loves to set here whar I kin see dat my ole hen and little chickens don't git in no mischief." A small bucket containing chicken food was conveniently at hand, so she could scatter it on the ground to call her chickens away from depredations on the flowers. A little mouse made frequent excursions into the bucket and helped himself to the cracked grains in the chicken food. "Don't mind him," she admonished, "he jes' plays 'round my cheer all day, and don't bother nuffin'."

"You didn't tell anything about your brothers and sisters when you talked to me before," her visitor remarked.

"Well, I jes' couldn't 'member all at onct, but atter I got back home and rested up, I sot here and talked ter myself 'bout old times. My brudder Charles wuz de coachman what drove Ole Marster's carriage, and anudder brudder wuz Willie, and one wuz Floyd. My sisters wuz Jane and Harriet. 'Pears like to me dey wuz more of 'em, but some how I jes' cyan' 'member no more 'bout 'em. My husband wuz Grant Parkes and he tuk care of de gyardens and yards for de Lumpkins.

"I had one chile named Caline, for Ole Miss. She died a baby. My daughter Fannie done died long time ago, and my daughter Liza, she wuks for a granddaughter of Ole Miss. I means, Liza wuks for Mister Eddie Lumpkin's daughter. I done plum clear forgot who Mister Eddie's daughter married.

"I jes' cyan' recollec' whar my boy, Floyd, stays. You oughter know, Lady, hits de town whar de President lives. Yes Ma'am, Washin'ton, dats de place whar my Floyd is. I got one more son, but I done plum forgot his name, and whar he wuz las' time I heared f'um him. I don't know if he's livin' or dead. It sho' is bad to git so old you cyan' tell de names of yo' chilluns straight off widout havin' to stop and study, and den you cyan' allus 'member.

"I done been studyin' 'bout da war times, and I 'members dat Ole Marster wuz mighty troubled 'bout his Negroes when he heared a big crowd of Yankee sojers wuz comin' to Athens. Folkses done been sayin' de Yankees would pick out de bes' Negroes and take 'em 'way wid 'em, and dere wuz a heap of talk 'bout de scandlous way dem Yankee sojers been treatin' Negro 'omans and gals. 'Fore dey got here, Ole Marster sent mos' of his bes' Negroes to Augusta to git 'em out of danger f'um de Fed'rals. Howsome-ever de Negroes dat he kept wid' 'im won't bothered none, kaze dem Fed'rals 'spected de Jedge and didn't do no harm 'round his place.

"In Augusta, I stayed on Greene Street wid a white lady named Mrs. Broome. No Ma'am, I nebber done no wuk. I jes' played and frolicked, and had a good time wid Mrs. Broome's babies. She sho' wuz good to me. Ma, she wukked for a Negro 'oman named Mrs. Kemp, and lived in de house wid her.

"Ole Marster sont for us atter de war wuz over, and us wuz mighty proud to git back home. Times had done changed when us got back. Mos' of Ole Marster's money wuz gone, and he couldn't take keer of so many Negroes, so Ma moved over near de gun fact'ry and started takin' in washin'.

"De wust bother Negroes had dem days wuz findin' a place to live. Houses had to be built for 'em, and dey won't no money to build 'em wid.

"One night, jes' atter I got in bed, some mens come walkin' right in Ma's house widout knockin'. I jerked de kivver up over my head quick, and tried to hide. One of de mens axed Ma who she wuz. Ma knowed his voice, so she said: 'You knows me Mister Blank,' (she called him by his sho' 'nuff name) 'I'm Liza Lumpkin, and you knows I used to b'long to Jedge Lumpkin.' De udders jes' laughed at him and said: 'Boy, she knows you, so you better not say nuffin' else.' Den anudder man axed Ma how she wuz makin' a livin'. Ma knowed his voice too, and she called him by name and tole him us wuz takin' in washin' and livin' all right. Dey laughed at him too, and den anudder one axed her sompin' and she called his name when she answered him too. Den de leader say, 'Boys, us better git out of here. These here hoods and robes ain't doin' a bit of good here. She knows ev'ry one of us and can tell our names.' Den dey went out laughin' fit to kill, and dat wuz de onliest time de Ku Kluxers ever wuz at our house, leastways us s'posed dey wuz Ku Kluxers.

"I don't 'member much 'bout no wuk atter freedom 'ceppin' de wash tub. Maw larned me how to wash and iron. She said: 'Some day I'll be gone f'um dis world, and you won't know nuffin' 'bout takin' keer of yo'self, lessen you larn right now.' I wuz mighty proud when I could do up a weeks washin' and take it back to my white folkses and git sho' 'nuff money for my wuk. I felt like I wuz a grown 'oman den. It wuz in dis same yard dat Ma larned me to wash. At fust Ma rented dis place. There wuz another house here den. Us saved our washin' money and bought de place, and dis is de last of three houses on dis spot. Evvy cent spent on dis place wuz made by takin' in washin' and de most of it wuz made washin' for Mister Eddie Lumpkin's family.

"Heaps of udder Negroes wuz smart like Ma, and dey got along all right. Dese days de young folkses don't try so hard. Things comes lots easier for 'em, and dey got lots better chances dan us had, but dey don't pay no 'tention to nuffin' but spendin' all dey got, evvy day. Boys is wuss'en gals. Long time ago I done give all I got to my daughter. She takes keer of me. Effen de roof leaks, she has it looked atter. She wuks and meks our livin'. I didn't want nobody to show up here atter I die and take nuffin' away f'um her.

"I ain' never had no hard times. I allus been treated good and had a good livin'. Course de rheumatiz done got me right bad, but I is still able to git about and tend to de house while my gal is off at wuk. I wanted to wash today, but I couldn't find no soap. My gal done hid de soap, kaze she say I'se too old to do my own washin' and she wanter wash my clo'es herse'f."

In parting, the old woman said rather apologetically, "I couldn't tell you 'bout no sho' 'nuff hard times. Atter de War I wukked hard, but I ain't never had no hard times".



[HW: Dist. 5 Ex-Slave #83]

"A TALK WITH G.W. PATTILLO—EX-SLAVE" [HW: age 78]

Submitted by Minnie B. Ross

Typed by: J.C. Russell 1-22-37 [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

[TR: In Informants List, G.W. Pattillio]

In the shelter provided by the Department of Public Welfare, lives an old Negro, G.W. Pattillo, who was born in Spaulding County, Griffin, Ga., in the year 1852. His parents, Harriett and Jake Pattillo, had twelve children, of whom he was the second youngest. Their master was Mr. T.J. Ingram. However, they kept the name of their old master, Mr. Pattillo.

Master Ingram, as he was affectionately called by his slaves, was considered a "middle class man," who owned 100 acres of land, with one family of slaves, and was more of a truck farmer than a plantation owner. He raised enough cotton to supply the needs of his family and his slaves and enough cattle to furnish food, but his main crops were corn, wheat, potatoes and truck.

With a few slaves and a small farm, Master Ingram was very lenient and kind to his slaves and usually worked with them in the fields. "We had no special time to begin or end the work for the day. If he got tired he would say, 'Alright, boys, let's stop and rest,' and sometimes we didn't start working until late in the day."

Pattillo's mother was cook and general house servant, so well thought of by the Ingram family that she managed the house as she saw fit and planned the meals likewise. Young Pattillo was considered a pet by everyone and hung around the mistress, since she did not have any children of her own. His job was to hand her the scissors and thread her needles. "I was her special pet," said Pattillo, "and my youngest brother was the master's special pet." Mr. and Mrs. Ingram never punished the children, nor allowed anyone but their parents to do so. If the boy became unruly, Mrs. Ingram would call his mother and say, "Harriett, I think G.W. needs to be taken down a button hole lower."

The master's house, called the "Big House," was a two-story frame structure consisting of 10 rooms. Although not a mansion, it was fairly comfortable. The home provided for Pattillo's family was a three-room frame house furnished comfortably with good home-made furniture.

Pattillo declared that he had never seen anyone on the Ingram Plantation punished by the owner, who never allowed the "paterrollers" to punish them either.

Master Ingram placed signs at different points on his plantation which read thus: "Paterrollers, Fishing and Hunting Prohibited on this Plantation." It soon became known by all that the Ingram slaves were not given passes by their owner to go any place, consequently they were known as "Old Ingram's Free Niggers."

Master Ingram could not write, but would tell his slaves to inform anyone who wished to know, that they belonged to J.D. Ingram. "Once," said Pattillo, "my brother Willis, who was known for his gambling and drinking, left our plantation and no one knew where he had gone. As we sat around a big open fire cracking walnuts, Willis came up, jumped off his horse and fell to the ground. Directly behind him rode a 'paterroller.' The master jumped up and commanded him to turn around and leave his premises. The 'Paterroller' ignored his warning and advanced still further. The master then took his rifle and shot him. He fell to the ground dead and Master Ingram said to his wife, 'Well, Lucy, I guess the next time I speak to that scoundrel he will take heed.' The master then saddled his horse and rode into town. Very soon a wagon came back and moved the body."

The cotton raised was woven into cloth from which their clothing was made. "We had plenty of good clothing and food," Pattillo continued. "The smokehouse was never locked and we had free access to the whole house. We never knew the meaning of a key."

Master Ingram was very strict about religion and attending Church. It was customary for everyone to attend the 9 o'clock prayer services at his home every night. The Bible was read by the mistress, after which the master would conduct prayer. Children as well as grownups were expected to attend. On Sundays, everybody attended church. Separate Churches were provided for the Negroes, with White and Colored preachers conducting the services. White Deacons were also the Deacons of the Colored Churches and a colored man was never appointed deacon of a Church. Only white ministers were priviliged to give the sacrament and do the baptizing. Their sermons were of a strictly religious nature. When a preacher was unable to read, someone was appointed to read the text. The preacher would then build his sermon from it. Of course, during the conference period, colored as well as white ministers were privileged to make the appointments. The Negroes never took up collections but placed their money in an envelope and passed it in. It was their own money, earned with the master's consent, by selling apples, eggs, chickens, etc.

Concerning marriages, Pattillo believes in marriages as they were in the olden days. "Ef two people felt they wuz made for each other, they wuz united within themselves when they done git the master's 'greement, then live together as man and wife, an' that was all. Now, you got to buy a license and pay the preacher."

Loss of life among slaves was a calamity and if a doctor earned a reputation for losing his patients, he might as well seek a new community. Often his downfall would begin by some such comment as, "Dr. Brown lost old man Ingram's nigger John. He's no good and I don't intend to use him." The value of slaves varied, from $500 to $10,000, depending on his or her special qualifications. Tradesmen such as blacksmiths, shoe makers, carpenters, etc., were seldom sold under $10,000. Rather than sell a tradesman slave, owners kept them in order to make money by hiring them out to other owners for a set sum per season. However, before the deal was closed the lessee would have to sign a contract which assured the slave's owner that the slave would receive the best of treatment while in possession.

Pattillo remembers hearing his parents say the North and South had disagreed and Abraham Lincoln was going to free the slaves. Although he never saw a battle fought, there were days when he sat and watched the long line of soldiers passing, miles and miles of them. Master Ingram did not enlist but remained at home to take care of his family and his possessions.

After the war ended, Master Ingram called his slaves together and told them of their freedom, saying, "Mr. Lincoln whipped the South and we are going back to the Union. You are as free as I am and if you wish to remain here you may. If not, you may go any place you wish. I am not rich but we can work together here for both our families, sharing everything we raise equally." Pattillo's family remained there until 1870. Some owners kept their slaves in ignorance of their freedom. Others were kind enough to offer them homes and help them to get a start.

After emancipation, politics began to play a part in the lives of ex-slaves, and many were approached by candidates who wanted to buy their votes. Pattillo tells of an old ex-slave owner named Greeley living in Upson County who bought an ex-slaves vote by giving him as payment a ham, a sack of flour and a place to stay on his plantation. After election, he ordered the ex-slave to get the wagon, load it with his possessions and move away from his plantation. Astonished, the old Negro asked why. "Because," replied old Greeley, "If you allow anyone to buy your vote and rob you of your rights as a free citizen, someone could hire you to set my house on fire."

Pattillo remebers slavery gratefully and says he almost wishes these days were back again.



EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW

ALEC POPE, Age 84 1345 Rockspring Street Athens, Georgia

Written by: Sadie B. Hornsby Federal Writers' Project Athens, Ga.

Edited by: Sarah H. Hall Athens

and John N. Booth District Supervisor Federal Writers' Project Augusta, Ga.

April 28, 1938 [Date Stamp: MAY 6 1938]

Alec lives with his daughter, Ann Whitworth. When asked if he liked to talk about his childhood days, he answered: "Yes Ma'am, but is you one of dem pension ladies?" The negative reply was an evident disappointment to Alec, but it did not hinder his narrative:

"Well, I wuz born on de line of Clarke and Oglethorpe Counties, way down de country. Celia and Willis Pope wuz my ma and pa. Lawdy! Mist'ess, I don't know whar dey come f'um; 'peers lak pa's fust Marster wuz named Pope. Dat's de onlies' last name I ever ricollec' us havin'.

"Dere wuz a passel of us chillun. My sisters wuz Sallie, Phebie Ann, Nelia, and Millie. My brudders wuz Anderson, Osborn, George, Robert, Squire, Jack, and Willis. Willis wuz named for pa and us nicknamed 'im Tuck.

"De slave quarters wuz little log houses scattered here and dar. Some of 'em had two rooms on de fust flo' and a loft up 'bove whar de boys most genially slep' and de gals slep' downstairs. I don't 'member nothin' t'all 'bout what us done 'cept scrap lak chilluns will do.

"Oh! I ain't forgot 'bout dem beds. Dey used cords for springs, and de cords run f'um head to foot; den dey wove 'em 'cross de bed 'til dey looked lak checks. Wheat straw wuz sewed up in ticks for mattresses. When you rolled 'round on one of dem straw mattresses, de straw crackled and sounded lak rain. No Ma'am, I don't know nothin' t'all 'bout my gran'pa and gran'ma.

"I wuz de reg'lar water boy, and I plowed some too. 'Course dere wuz so many on dat plantation it tuk more'n one boy to tote de water. Money? dis Nigger couldn't git no money in dem days.

"Us sho' had plenty somepin' t'eat, sich as meat, and cornbread, and good old wheat bread what wuz made out of seconds. Dere wuz lots of peas, corn, cabbage, Irish 'tatoes, sweet 'tatoes, and chickens, sometimes. Yes Ma'am, sometimes. I laks coffee, but us Niggers didn't have much coffee. Dat wuz for de white folkses at de big house. Cookin' wuz done in de fireplace in great big spiders. Some of de biggest of de spiders wuz called ovens. Dey put coals of fire underneath and more coals on top of de lid. Ma baked bread and 'taters in de ashes. In winter she put de dough in a collard leaf so it wouldn't burn. In summer green corn shucks wuz wrapped 'round de dough 'stid of collard leaves. All de fish and 'possums and rabbits us had wuz cotch right dar on Old Marster's place, 'cause if one of our Niggers got cotch offen our place hit wuz jes' too bad. I sho' does love 'possum, and us had lots of 'em, 'cause my brudder used to ketch 'em by de wholesale wid a dog he had, and dat same dog wuz a powerful good rabbit hound too.

"Us had pretty good clothes most all de year 'round. In summer, shirts, and pants wuz made out of coarse cotton cloth. Sometimes de pants wuz dyed gray. Winter time us had better clothes made out of yarn and us allus had good Sunday clothes. 'Course I wuz jes' a plow boy den and now I done forgot lots 'bout how things looked. Our shoes wuz jes' common brogans, no diff'unt on Sunday, 'ceppin' de Nigger boys what wuz shinin' up to de gals cleaned up deir shoes dat day.

"Our Marster wuz Mr. Mordecai Ed'ards. Well, he wuz pretty good—not too good. He tried to make you do right, but if you didn't he would give you a good brushin'. Miss Martha, Old Marster's old 'oman, warn't good as Old Marster, but she done all right. Dey had a heap of chillun: Miss Susan, Miss Mary, Miss Callie, Miss Alice, and it 'peers to me lak dere wuz two mo' gals, but I can't 'call 'em now. Den dere wuz some boys: Marse Billy, Marse Jim, Marse John, Marse Frank, and Marse Howard. Marse Frank Ed'ards lives on Milledge Avenue now.

"Old Marster and Old Mist'ess lived in a great big fine house what looked to me lak one of dese big hotels does now. Marse Jack Ed'ards wuz de fust overseer I can ricollec'. He wuz kin to Old Marster. Marster had two or three mo' overseers at diff'unt times, but I don't ricollec' dey names. Dere wuz two car'iage drivers. Henry driv de gals 'round and Albert wuz Old Mist'ess' driver. Old Marster had his own hoss and buggy, and most of de time he driv for hisself, but he allus tuk a little Nigger boy namad Jordan 'long to help him drive and to hold de hoss.

"Lawdy! Mist'ess, I couldn't rightly say how many acres wuz in dat plantation. I knowed he had two plantations wid fine houses on 'em. He jes' had droves and droves of Niggers and when dey got scattered out over de fields, dey looked lak blackbirds dere wuz so many. You see I wuz jes' a plow boy and didn't know nothin' 'bout figgers and countin'.

"De overseer got us up 'bout four o'clock in de mornin' to feed de stock. Den us et. Us allus stopped off by dark. Mist'ess dere's a old sayin' dat you had to brush a Nigger in dem days to make 'em do right. Dey brushed us if us lagged in de field or cut up de cotton. Dey could allus find some fault wid us. Marster brushed us some time, but de overseer most gen'ally done it. I 'members dey used to make de 'omans pull up deir skirts and brushed 'em wid a horse whup or a hickory; dey done de mens de same way 'cept dey had to take off deir shirts and pull deir pants down. Niggers sho' would holler when dey got brushed.

"Jails! Yes Ma'am, dey had 'em way down in Lexin'ton. You know some Niggers gwine steal anyhow, and dey put 'em in dere for dat mostly. I didn't never see nobody sold or in chains. De only chains I ever seed wuz on hosses and plows.

"Mist'ess, Niggers didn't have no time to larn to read in no Bible or nothin' lak dat in slav'ry time. Us went to church wid de white folkses if us wanted to, but us warn't 'bleeged to go. De white folkses went to church at Cherokee Corner. Dere warn't no special church for Niggers 'til long atter de War when dey built one out nigh de big road.

"Some of de Niggers run away to de Nawth—some dey got back, some dey didn't. Dem patterollers had lots of fun if dey cotch a Nigger, so dey could brush 'im to hear 'im holler. De onlies' trouble I ever heard 'bout twixt de whites and blacks wuz when a Nigger sassed a white man and de white man shot 'im. H'it served dat Nigger right, 'cause he oughta knowed better dan to sass a white man. De trouble ended wid dat shot.

"De most Niggers ever done for a good time wuz to have little parties wid heaps of fidlin' and dancin'. On Sunday nights dey would have prayer meetin's. Dem patterollers would come and break our prayer meetin's up and brush us if dey cotch us.

"Chris'mas wuz somepin' else. Us had awful good times den, 'cause de white folkses at de big house give us plenty of goodies for Chris'mas week and us had fidlin' and dancin'. Us would ring up de gals and run all 'round 'em playin' dem ring-'round-de-rosie games. Us had more good times at corn shuckin's, and Old Marster allus had a little toddy to give us den to make us wuk faster.

"Oh! No Ma'am, I don't 'member nothin' 'bout what us played when I wuz a little chap, and if I ever knowed anything 'bout Rawhead and Bloody Bones and sich lak I done plumb forgot it now. But I do know Old Marster and Old Mist'ess sho' wuz powerful good when dey Niggers got sick. Dey put a messenger boy on a mule and sont 'im for Dr. Hudson quick, 'cause to lose a Nigger wuz losin' a good piece of property. Some Niggers wore some sort of beads 'round deir necks to keep sickness away and dat's all I calls to mind 'bout dat charm business.

"I wuz jes' a plow boy so I didn't take in 'bout de surrender. De only thing I ricollects 'bout it wuz when Old Marster told my pa and ma us wuz free and didn't belong to him no more. He said he couldn't brush de grown folks no more, but if dey wanted to stay wid 'im dey could, and dat he would brush dey chilluns if dey didn't do right. Ma told 'im he warn't gwine brush none of her chilluns no more.

"Us lived wid Old Marster 'bout a year, den pa moved up on de big road. Buy land? No Ma'am, Niggers didn't have no money to buy no land wid 'til dey made it. I didn't take in 'bout Mr. Lincoln, only dat thoo' him us wuz sot free. I heard 'em say Mr. Davis wuz de President of de South, and 'bout Booker Washin'ton some of de Niggers tuk him in, but I didn't bodder 'bout him.

"Lawdy! Mist'ess, I didn't marry de fust time 'til long atter de War, and now I done been married three times. I had a awful big weddin' de fust time. De white man what lived on de big road not far f'um us said he never seed sich a weddin' in his life. Us drunk and et, and danced and cut de buck most all night long. Most all my chilluns is dead. I b'lieve my fust wife had 10 or 11 chilluns. I know I had a passel fust and last; and jes' to tell you de trufe, dere jes' ain't no need to stop and try to count de grand chilluns. All three of my wives done daid and I'm lookin' for anudder one to take keer of me now.

"Why did I jine de church? 'Cause I jes' think evvybody oughta jine if dey wanna do right so'se dey can go to Heben. I feels lak a diff'unt man since I done jined and I knows de Lord has done forgive me for all my sins.

"Mist'ess ain't you thoo' axin' me questions yit? Anyhow I wuz thinkin' you wuz one of dem pension ladies." When he was told that the interview was completed, Alec said: "I sho' is glad, 'cause I feels lak takin' a little nap atter I eat dese pecans what I got in my pocket. Goodbye Mist'ess."



[HW: Dist. 5 Ex-Slave #84]

Whitley, Driskell 1-20-37

SLAVERY AS WITNESSED BY ANNIE PRICE [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

Mrs. Annie Price was born in Spaulding County, Georgia October 12, 1855. Although only a mere child when freedom was declared she is able to relate quite a few events in her own life as well as some of the experiences of other slaves who lived in the same vicinity as she.

Her mother and father Abe and Caroline were owned by a young married couple named Kennon. (When this couple were married Abe and Caroline had been given as wedding presents by the bride's and the groom's parents). Besides her parents there four brothers and five sisters all of whom were younger than she with one exception. The first thing that she remembers of her mother is that of seeing her working in the "Marster's" kitchen.

Mr. Kennon was described as being a rather young man who was just getting a start in life. His family consisted of his wife and about five children. He was not a mean individual. The plantation on which he lived was a small one, having been given to him by his father (whose plantation adjoined) in order to give him a start. Mr. Kennon owned one other slave besides Mrs. Price and her family while his father owned a large number some of whom he used to lend to the younger Mr. Kennon. Cotton and all kinds of vegetables were raised. There was also some live stock.

As Mr. Kennon owned only a few slaves it was necessary for these few persons to do all of the work. Says Mrs. Price: "My mother had to do everything from cultivating cotton to cooking." The same was true of her father and the other servant. Before the break of day each morning they were all called to prepare for the day's work. Mrs. Price then told how she has seen the men of her plantation and those of the adjoining one going to the fields at this unearthly hour eating their breakfast while sitting astride the back of a mule. After her mother had finished cooking and cleaning the house she was sent to the field to help the men. When it was too dark to see all field hands were permitted to return to their cabins. This same routine was followed each day except Sundays when they were permitted to do much as they pleased. When the weather was too bad for field work they shelled corn and did other types of work not requiring too much exposure. Holidays were unheard of on the Kennon plantation. As a little slave girl the only work that Mrs. Price ever had to do was to pick up chips and bark for her mother to cook with. The rest of the time was spent in playing with the "Marster's" little girls.

"The servants on our plantation always had a plenty of clothes," continued Mrs. Price, "while those on the plantation next to ours (Mrs. Kennon's father) never had enough, especially in the winter." This clothing was given when it was needed and not at any specified time as was the case on some of the other plantations in that community. All of these articles were made on the plantation and the materials that were mostly used were homespun (which was also woven on the premises) woolen goods, cotton goods and calico. It has been mentioned before that the retinue of servants was small in number and so for this reason all of them had a reasonable amount of those clothes that had been discarded by the master and the mistress. After the leather had been cured it was taken to the Tannery where crude shoes called "Twenty Grands" were made. These shoes often caused the wearer no little amount of discomfort until they were thoroughly broken in.

For bedding, homespun sheets were used. The quilts and blankets were made from pieced cotton material along with garments that were unfit for further wear. Whenever it was necessary to dye any of these articles a type of dye made by boiling the bark from trees was used.

In the same manner that clothing was plentiful so was there always enough food. When Mrs. Price was asked if the slaves owned by Mr. Kennon were permitted to cultivate a garden of their own she stated that they did'nt need to do this because of the fact that Mr. Kennon raised everything that was necessary and they often had more than enough. Their week-day diet usually consisted of fried meat, grits, syrup and corn bread for breakfast; vegetables, pot liquor or milk, and corn bread for dinner; and for supper there was milk and bread or fried meat and bread. On Sunday they were given a kind of flour commonly known as the "seconds" from which biscuits were made. "Sometimes", continued Mrs. Price, "my mother brought us the left-overs from the master's table and this was usually a meal by itself". In addition to this Mr. Kennon allowed hunting as well as fishing and so on many days there were fish and roast 'possum. Food on the elder Mr. Kennon plantation was just as scarce as it was plentiful on his son's. When asked how she knew about this Mrs. Price told how she had seen her father take meat from his master's smoke house and hide it so that he could give it to those slaves who invaribly slipped over at night in search of food. The elder Mr. Kennon had enough food but he was too mean to see his slaves enjoy themselves by having full stomachs.

All cooking on Mrs. Price's plantation was done by her mother.

All of the houses on the Kennon plantation were made of logs including that of Mr. Kennon himself. There were only two visible differences in the dwelling places of the slaves and that of Mr. Kennon and there were (1) several rooms instead of the one room allowed the slaves and (2) weatherboard was used on the inside to keep the weather out while the slaves used mud to serve for this purpose. In these crude one-roomed houses (called stalls) there was a bed made of some rough wood. Rope tied from side to side served as the springs for the mattress which was a bag filled with straw and leaves. There were also one or two boxes which were used as chairs. The chimney was made of rocks and mud. All cooking was done here at the fireplace. Mrs. Price says; "Even Old Marster did'nt have a stove to cook on so you know we did'nt." The only available light was that furnished by the fire. Only one family was allowed to a cabin so as to prevent overcrowding. In addition to a good shingle roof each one of these dwellings had a board floor. All floors were of dirt on the plantation belonging to the elder Mr. Kennon.

A doctor was employed to attend to those persons who were sick. However he never got chance to practice on the Kennon premises as there was never any serious illness. Minor cases of sickness were usually treated by giving the patient a dose of castor oil or several doses of some form of home made medicine which the slaves made themselves from roots that they gathered in the woods. In order to help keep his slaves in good health Mr. Kennon required them to keep the cabins they occupied and their surroundings clean at all times.

Mrs. Price said that the slaves had very few amusements and as far as she can remember she never saw her parents indulge in any form of play at all. She remembers, however, that on the adjoining plantation the slaves often had frolics where they sang and danced far into the night. These frolics were not held very often but were usually few and far between.

As there was no church on the plantation Mr. Kennon gave them a pass on Sundays so that they could attend one of the churches that the town afforded. The sermons they heard were preached by a white preacher and on rare occasions by a colored preacher. Whenever the colored pastor preached there were several white persons present to see that [HW: no] doctrine save that laid down by them should be preached. All of the marrying on both plantations [TR: duplicate section removed here] was done by a preacher.

It has been said that a little learning is a dangerous thing and this certainly was true as far as the slaves were concerned, according to Mrs. Price. She says: "If any of us were ever caught with a book we would get a good whipping." Because of their great fear of such a whipping none of them ever attempted to learn to read or to write.

As a general rule Mrs. Price and the other nembers of her family were always treated kindly by the Kennon family. None of them were ever whipped or mistreated in any way. Mrs. Price says that she has seen slaves on the adjoining plantation whipped until the blood ran. She describes the sight in the following manner. "The one to be whipped was tied across a log or to a tree and then his shirt was dropped around his waist and he was lashed with a cow hide whip until his back was raw." Whippings like these were given when a slave was unruly or disobedient or when he ran away. Before a runaway slave could be whipped he had to be caught and the chief way of doing this was to put the blood hounds (known to the slaves as "nigger hounds") on the fugitive's trail. Mrs. Price once saw a man being taken to his master after he had been caught by the dogs. She says that his skin was cut and torn in any number of places and he looked like one big mass of blood. Her father once ran away to escape a whipping.(this was during the Civil War), and he was able to elude the dogs as well as his human pursuers. When asked about the final outcome of this escape Mrs. Price replied that her father remained in hiding until the war was over with and then he was able to show himself without any fear.

She has also seen slaves being whipped by a group of white men when her parents said were the "Paddie-Rollers". It was their duty to whip those slaves who were caught away from their respective plantations without a "pass", she was told.

According to Mrs. Price the jails were built for the "white folks". When a slave did something wrong his master punished him.

She does'nt remember anything about the beginning of the Civil War neither did she understand its significance until Mr. Kennon died as a result of the wounds that he received while in action. This impressed itself on her mind indelibly because Mr. Kennon was the first dead person she had ever seen. The Yankee troops did'nt come near their plantation and so they had a plenty of food to satisfy their needs all during the war. Even after the war was over there was still a plenty of all the necessities of life.

When Mrs. Kennon informed them that they were free to go or to stay as they pleased, her father, who had just come out of hiding, told Mrs. Kennon that he did not want to remain on the plantation any longer than it was necessary to get his family together. He said that he wanted to get out to himself so that he could see how it felt to be free. Mrs. Price says that as young as she was she felt very happy because the yoke of bondage was gone and she knew that she could have a privelege like everybody else. And so she and her family moved away and her father began farming for himself. His was prosperous until his death. After she left the plantation of her birth she lived with her father until she became a grown woman and then she married a Mr. Price who was also a farmer.

Mrs. Price believes that she has lived to reach such a ripe old age because she has always served God and because she always tried to obey those older than she.



[HW: Dist. 6 Ex-Slave #87]

A FEW FACTS OF SLAVERY BY CHARLIE PYE—Ex-Slave [Date Stamp: MAY — —]

The writer was much surprised to learn that the person whom she was about to interview was nine years old when the Civil War ended. His youthful appearance at first made her realize that probably he was not an ex-slave after all. Very soon she learned differently. Another surprise followed the first in that his memory of events during that period was very hazy. The few facts learned are related as follows:

Mr. Charlie Pye was born in Columbus, Ga., 1856 and was the ninth child of his parents, Tom Pye and Emmaline Highland. Tom Pye, the father, belonged to Volantine Pye, owner of a plantation in Columbus, Ga. known as the Lynch and Pye Plantation.

Mr. Pye's mistress was Miss Mary Ealey, who later married a Mr. Watts. Miss Ealey owned a large number of slaves, although she did not own a very large plantation. Quite a few of her slaves were hired out to other owners. The workers on the plantation were divided into two or more groups, each group having a different job to do. For instance, there were the plow hands, hoe hands, log cutters, etc. Mr. Pye's mother was a plow hand and besides this, she often had to cut logs. Mr. Pye was too young to work and spent most of his time playing around the yards.

Houses on the Ealey plantation were built of pine poles after which the cracks were filled with red mud. Most of these houses consisted of one room; however, a few were built with two rooms to accommodate the larger families. The beds, called "bunks" by Mr. Pye were nailed to the sides of the room. Roped bottoms covered with a mattress of burlap and hay served to complete this structure called a bed. Benches and a home made table completed the furnishings. There were very few if any real chairs found in the slave homes. The houses and furniture were built by skilled Negro carpenters who were hired by the mistress from other slave owners. A kind slave owner would allow a skilled person to hire his own time and keep most of the pay which he earned.

Plenty of food was raised on the Ealey plantation, but the slave families were restricted to the same diet of corn meal, syrup, and fat bacon. Children were fed "pot likker", milk and bread from poplar troughs, from which they ate with wooden spoons. Grown-ups ate with wooden forks. Slaves were not allowed to raise gardens of their own, although Mr. Pye's uncle was given the privilege of owning a rice patch, which he worked at night.

In every slave home was found a wooden loom which was operated by hands and feet, and from which the cloth for their clothing was made. When the work in the fields was finished women were required to come home and spin one cut (thread) at night. Those who were not successful in completing this work were punished the next morning. Men wore cotton shirts and pants which were dyed different colors with red oak bark, alum and copper. Copper produced an "Indigo blue color." "I have often watched dye in the process of being made," remarked Mr. Pye. Mr. Pye's father was a shoemaker and made all shoes needed on the plantation. The hair was removed from the hides by a process known as tanning. Red oak bark was often used for it produced an acid which proved very effective in tanning hides. Slaves were given shoes every three months.

To see that everyone continued working an overseer rode over the plantation keeping check on the workers. If any person was caught resting he was given a sound whipping. Mr. Pye related the following incident which happened on the Ealey plantation. "A young colored girl stopped to rest for a few minutes and my uncle stopped also and spoke to her. During this conversation the overseer came up and began whipping the girl with a "sapling tree." My uncle became very angry and picked up an axe and hit the overseer in the head, killing him. The mistress was very fond of my uncle and kept him hid until she could "run him." Running a slave was the method they used in sending a slave to another state in order that he could escape punishment and be sold again. You were only given this privilege if it so happened that you were cared for by your mistress and master."

Overseers on the Ealey plantation were very cruel and whipped slaves unmercifully. Another incident related by Mr. Pye was as follows:

"My mother resented being whipped and would run away to the woods and often remained as long as twelve months at a time. When the strain of staying away from her family became too great, she would return home. No sooner would she arrive than the old overseer would tie her to a peach tree and whip her again. The whipping was done by a "Nigger Driver," who followed the overseer around with a bull whip; especially for this purpose. The largest man on the plantation was chosen to be the "Nigger Driver."

"Every slave had to attend church, although there were no separate churches provided for them. However, they were allowed to occupy the benches which were placed in the rear of the church. To attend church on another plantation, slaves had to get a pass or suffer punishment from the "Pader Rollers." (Patrollers)

"We didn't marry on our plantation", remarked Mr. Pye. After getting the consent of both masters the couple jumped the broom, and that ended the so called ceremony. Following the marriage there was no frolic or celebration.

"Sometimes quilting parties were held in the various cabins on the plantation. Everyone would assist in making the winter bed covering for one family one night and the next night for some other family, and so on until everyone had sufficient bed covering.

"A doctor was only called when a person had almost reached the last stages of illness. Illness was often an excuse to remain away from the field. "Blue mass pills", castor oil, etc. were kept for minor aches and pains. When a slave died he was buried as quickly as a box could be nailed together.

"I often heard of people refugeeing during the Civil War period," remarked Mr. Pye. "In fact, our mistress refugeed to Alabama trying to avoid meeting the Yanks, but they came in another direction. On one occasion the Yanks came to our plantation, took all the best mules and horses, after which they came to my mother's cabin and made her cook eggs for them. They kept so much noise singing, "I wish I was in Dixie" that I could not sleep. After freedom we were kept in ignorance for quite a while but when we learned the truth my mother was glad to move away with us."

"Immediately after the war ex-slave families worked for one-third and one-fourth of the crops raised on different plantations. Years later families were given one-half of the crops raised."

Mr. Pye ended the interview by telling the writer that he married at the age of 35 years and was the father of two children, one of whom is living. He is a Baptist, belonging to Mount Zion Church, and has attended church regularly and believes that by leading a clean, useful life he has lengthened his days on this earth. During his lifetime Mr. Pye followed railroad work. Recently, however, he has had to give this up because of his health.



[HW: Dist. 1 Ex-Slave #91]

SUBJECT: CHARLOTTE RAINES—OGLETHORPE CO. DISTRICT: W.P.A. NO. 1 RESEARCH WORKER: JOHN N. BOOTH DATE: JANUARY 18, 1937 [Date Stamp: JAN 26 1937] [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

Aunt Charlotte Raines, well up in the seventies at the time of her death some years ago, was an excellent example of the type of negro developed by the economic system of the old South.

When I could first remember, Charlotte was supreme ruler of the kitchen of my home. Thin to emaciation and stooped almost to the point of having a hump on her back she was yet wiry and active. Her gnarled old hands could turn out prodigous amounts of work when she chose to extend herself.

Her voice was low and musical and she seldom raised it above the ordinary tone of conversation; yet when she spoke other colored people hastened to obey her and even the whites took careful note of what she said. Her head was always bound in a snow-white turban. She wore calico or gingham print dresses and white aprons and these garments always appeared to be freshly laundered.

Charlotte seldom spoke unless spoken to and she would never tell very much about her early life. She had been trained as personal maid to one of her ex-master's daughters. This family, (that of Swepson H. Cox) was one of the most cultured and refined that Lexington, in Oglethorpe County, could boast.

Aunt Charlotte never spoke of her life under the old regime but she had supreme contempt for "no count niggers that didn't hav' no white Folks". She was thrifty and frugal. Having a large family, most of her small earnings was spent on them. However, she early taught her children to scratch for themselves. Two of her daughters died after they had each brought several children into the world. Charlotte thought they were being neglected by their fathers and proceeded to take them "to raise myse'f". These grand children were the apple of her eye and she did much more for them than she had done for her own children.

The old woman had many queer ways. Typical of her eccentricities was her iron clad refusal to touch one bite of food in our house. If she wished a dish she was preparing tasted to see that it contained the proper amount of each ingredient she would call some member of the family, usually my grandmother, and ask that he or she sample the food. Paradoxically, she had no compunctions about the amount of food she carried home for herself and her family.

Strange as it may seem, Charlotte was an incorrigible rogue. My mother and my grandmother both say that they have seen her pull up her skirts and drop things into a flour sack which she always wore tied round her waist just for this purpose. I myself have seen this sack so full that it would bump against her knee. She did not confine her thefts to food only. She would also take personal belongings. Another servant in the household once found one of Aunt Charlotte's granddaughters using a compact that she had stolen from her young mistress. The servant took the trinket away from the girl and returned it to the owner but nothing was ever said to Aunt Charlotte although every one knew she had stolen it.

One year when the cherry crop was exceptionally heavy, grandmother had Charlotte make up a huge batch of cherry preserves in an iron pot. While Charlotte was out of the kitchen for a moment she went in to have a look at the preserves and found that about half of them had been taken out. A careful but hurried search located the missing portion hidden in another container behind the stove. Grandmother never said a word but simply put the amount that had been taken out back in the pot.

Charlotte never permitted anyone to take liberties with her except Uncle Daniel, the "man of all work" and another ex-slave. Daniel would josh her about some "beau" or about her over-fondness for her grandchildren. She would take just so much of this and then with a quiet "g'long with you", she would send him on about his business. Once when he pressed her a bit too far she hurled a butcher knife at him.

Charlotte was not a superstitious soul. She did not even believe that the near-by screech of an owl was an omen of death. However, she did have some fearful and wonderful folk remedies.

When you got a bee sting Charlotte made Daniel spit tobacco juice on it. She always gave a piece of fat meat to babies because this would make them healthy all their lives. Her favorite remedy was to put a pan of cold water under the bed to stop "night sweats."

In her last years failing eye-sight and general ill health forced her to give up her active life. Almost a complete shut-in, she had a window cut on the north side of her room so she could "set and see whut went on up at Mis' Molly's" (her name for my grandmother).

She was the perfect hostess and whenever any member of our family went to see how she did during those latter days she always served locust beer and cookies. Once when I took her a bunch of violets she gave me an old coin that she had carried on her person for years. Mother didn't want me to take it because Charlotte's husband had given it to her and she set great store by it. However, the old woman insisted that I be allowed to keep the token arguing it would not be of use to her much longer anyway.

She died about a month later and in accordance with her instructions her funeral was conducted like "white folk's buryin'", that is without the night being filled with wailing and minus the usual harangue at the church. Even in death Charlotte still thought silence golden.



[HW: Dist. 1 Ex-Slave #90]

SUBJECT: FANNY RANDOLPH—EX-SLAVE Jefferson, Georgia RESEARCH WORKER: MRS. MATTIE B. ROBERTS EDITOR: JOHN N. BOOTH SUPERVISOR: MISS VELMA BELL DISTRICT: W.P.A. NO. 1 DATE: MARCH 29, 1937 [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

Perhaps the oldest ex-slave living today is found in Jefferson, Georgia. Fanny Randolph is a little old wrinkled-faced woman, but at the time of our visit she was very neat in a calico dress and a white apron with a bandanna handkerchief around her head.

We saw her at the home of a niece with whom she lives, all of her own family being dead. Her room was tidy, and she had a bright log fire burning in the wide old fire place. She readily consented to talk about slavery times.

"Honey, I doan know how ole I is, but I'se been here er long time and I'se been told by folks whut knows, dat I'se, maybe, mo' dan er hunderd years ole. I 'members back er long time befo' de war. My mammy and daddy wuz bofe slaves. My daddy's name wuz Daniel White an' my mammy's name befo' she married wuz Sarah Moon, she b'longed ter Marse Bob Moon who lived in Jackson County over near whar Winder is now. He wuz er big landowner an' had lots uv slaves."

"When I wuz 'bout nine years ole, Marse Bob tuk me up ter de "big house" ter wait on ole Mistis. I didn't hav' much ter do, jes' had ter he'p 'er dress an' tie 'er shoes an' run eroun' doin' errands fur 'er. Yer know, in dem times, de white ladies had niggers ter wait on 'em an' de big niggers done all de hard wuk 'bout de house an' yard."

"Atter some years my mammy an' daddy bofe died, so I jes' stayed at de "big house" an' wukked on fer Marse Bob an' ole Mistis."

"Atter I growed up, us niggers on Marse Bob's plantation had big times at our corn shuckin's an' dances. Us 'ud all git tergether at one uv de cabins an us 'ud have er big log fire an' er room ter dance in. Den when us had all shucked corn er good while ever nigger would git his gal an' dey would be some niggers over in de corner ter play fer de dance, one wid er fiddle an' one ter beat straws, an' one wid er banjo, an' one ter beat bones, an' when de music 'ud start up (dey gener'ly played 'Billy in de Low Grounds' or 'Turkey in de Straw') us 'ud git on de flo'. Den de nigger whut called de set would say: 'All join hands an' circle to de lef, back to de right, swing corners, swing partners, all run away!' An' de way dem niggers feets would fly!"

"Bye an' bye de war come on, an' all de men folks had ter go an' fight de Yankees, so us wimmen folks an' chillun had er hard time den caze us all had ter look atter de stock an' wuk in de fiel's. Den us 'ud hear all 'bout how de Yankees wuz goin' aroun' an' skeerin' de wimmen folks mos' ter death goin' in dey houses an' making de folks cook 'em stuff ter eat, den tearin' up an' messin' up dey houses an' den marchin' on off."

"Den when ole Mistis 'ud hear de Yankees wuz comin' she'd call us niggers en us 'ud take all de china, silver, and de joolry whut b'longed ter ole Miss an' her family an' dig deep holes out b'hind de smoke-house or under de big house, en bury h'it all 'tell de Yankees 'ud git by."

"Dem wuz dark days, but atter er long time de war wuz over an' dey tole us us wuz free, I didn't want ter leave my white folks so I stayed on fer sometime, but atter while de nigger come erlong whut I married. His name wuz Tom Randolph an' befo' de war he b'longed ter Marse Joshua Randolph, who lived at Jefferson, so den us moved ter Jefferson. Us had thirteen chillun, but dey's all daid now an' my ole man is daid too, so I'se here all by my se'f an' ef h'it warn't fer my two nieces here, who lets me liv' wid 'em I doan know whut I'd do."

"I'se allus tried ter do de right thin' an' de good Lawd is takin' keer uv me fer his prophet say in de Good Book, 'I'se been young and now am ole, yet I'se nebber seed de righteous fersaken ner his seed beggin' bread!' So I ain't worryin' 'bout sumpin' ter eat, but I doan want ter stay here much longer onless h'its de good Lawds will."

Asked if she was superstitious, she said: "Well when I wuz young, I reckin' I wuz, but now my pore ole mine is jes so tired and h'it doan wuk lak h'it uster, so I never does think much 'bout superstition, but I doan lak ter heer er "squinch owl" holler in de night, fer h'it sho is a sign some uv yore folks is goin' ter die, en doan brin' er ax froo de house onless yer take h'it back de same way yer brung h'it in, fer dat 'ill kill de bad luck."

When asked if she believed in ghosts or could "see sights" she said: "Well, Miss, yer know if yer is borned wid er veil over yer face yer can see sights but I has never seed any ghosts er sight's, I warn't born dat way, but my niece, here has seed ghostes, en she can tell yer 'bout dat."

When we were ready to leave we said, "Well, Aunt Fanny, we hope you live for many more years." She replied: "I'se willin' ter go on livin' ez long ez de Marster wants me ter, still I'se ready when de summons comes. De good Lawd has allus giv' me grace ter liv' by, an' I know He'll giv' me dyin' grace when my time comes."



[HW: Dist. 6 Ex-slave #94]

Alberta Minor Re-search Worker

SHADE RICHARDS, Ex-slave East Solomon Street Griffin, Georgia

September 14, 1936 [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

Shade Richards was born January 13, 1846 on the Jimpson Neals plantation below Zebulon in Pike County. His father, Alfred Richards had been brought from Africa and was owned by Mr. Williams on an adjoining plantation. His mother, Easter Richards was born in Houston County but sold to Mr. Neal. Shade being born on the plantation was Mr. Neal's property. He was the youngest of 11 children. His real name was "Shadrack" and the brother just older than he was named "Meshack". Sometimes the mothers named the babies but most of the time the masters did. Mr. Neal did Shade's "namin'".

Shade's father came two or three times a month to see his family on Mr. Neal's plantation always getting a "pass" from his master for "niggers" didn't dare go off their own plantation without a "pass". Before the war Shade's grandfather came from Africa to buy his son and take him home, but was taken sick and both father and son died. Shade's earliest recollections of his mother are that she worked in the fields until "she was thru' bornin' chillun" then she was put in charge of the milk and butter. There were 75 or 80 cows to be milked twice a day and she had to have 5 or 6 other women helpers.

Mr. Neal had several plantations in different localities and his family did not live on this one in Pike County but he made regular visits to each one. It had no name, was just called "Neal's Place." It consisted of thirteen hundred acres. There were always two or three hundred slaves on the place, besides the ones he just bought and sold for "tradin'". He didn't like "little nigger men" and when he happened to find one among his slaves he would turn the dogs on him and let them run him down. The boys were not allowed to work in the fields until they were 12 years old, but they had to wait on the hands, such as carrying water, running back to the shop with tools and for tools, driving wagons of corn, wheat etc. to the mill to be ground and any errands they were considered big enough to do. Shade worked in the fields when he became 12 years old.

This plantation was large and raised everything—corn, wheat, cotton, "taters", tobacco, fruit, vegetables, rice, sugar cane, horses, mules, goats, sheep, and hogs. They kept all that was needed to feed the slaves then sent the surplus to Savannah by the "Curz". The stage took passengers, but the "Curz" was 40 or 50 wagons that took the farm surplus to Savannah, and "fetched back things for de house."

Mr. Neal kept 35 or 40 hounds that had to be cooked for. He was "rich with plenty of money" always good to his slaves and didn't whip them much, but his son, "Mr. Jimmy, sure was a bad one". Sometimes he'd use the cow hide until it made blisters, then hit them with the flat of the hand saw until they broke and next dip the victim into a tub of salty water. It often killed the "nigger" but "Mr. Jimmy" didn't care. He whipped Shade's uncle to death.

When the "hog killin' time come" it took 150 nigger men a week to do it. The sides, shoulders, head and jowls were kept to feed the slaves on and the rest was shipped to Savannah. Mr. Neal was good to his slaves and gave them every Saturday to "play" and go to the "wrestling school". At Xmas they had such a good time, would go from house to house, the boys would fiddle and they'd have a drink of liquor at each house. The liquor was plentiful for they bought it in barrels. The plantations took turn about having "Frolics" when they "fiddled and danced" all night.

If it wasn't on your own plantation you sure had to have a "pass". When a slave wanted to "jine the church" the preacher asked his master if he was a "good nigger", if the master "spoke up for you", you were "taken in," but if he didn't you weren't. The churches had a pool for the Baptist Preachers to baptize in and the Methodist Preacher sprinkled.

Mr. Neal "traded" with Dr. by the year and whenever the slaves were hurt or sick he had to come "tend" to them. He gave the families their food by the month, but if it gave out all they had to do was to ask for more and he always gave it to them. They had just as good meals during the week as on Sunday, any kind of meat out of the smoke house, chickens, squabs, fresh beef, shoats, sheep, biscuits or cornbread, rice, potatoes, beans, syrup and any garden vegetables. Sometimes they went fishing to add to their menu.

The single male slaves lived together in the "boy house" and had just as much as others. There were a lot of women who did nothing but sew, making work clothes for the hands. Their Sunday clothes were bought with the money they made off the little "patches" the master let them work for themselves.

Mr. Jimmy took Shade to the war with him. Shade had to wait on him as a body servant then tend to the two horses. Bullets went through Shade's coat and hat many times but "de Lord was takin' care" of him and he didn't get hurt. They were in the battle of Appomatox and "at the surrenderin'," April 8, 1865, but the "evidence warn't sworn out until May 29, so that's when the niggers celebrate emancipation."

Shade's brother helped lay the R.R. from Atlanta to Macon so the Confederate soldiers and ammunition could move faster.

In those days a negro wasn't grown until he was 21 regardless of how large he was. Shade was "near 'bout" grown when the war was over but worked for Mr. Neal four years. His father and mother rented a patch, mule and plow from Mr. Neal and the family was together. At first they gave the niggers only a tenth of what they raised but they couldn't get along on it and after a "lot of mouthin' about it" they gave them a third. That wasn't enough to live on either so more "mouthin" about it until they gave them a half, "and thats what they still gits today."

When the slaves went 'courtin' and the man and woman decided to get married, they went to the man's master for permission then to the woman's master. There was no ceremony if both masters said "alright" they were considered married and it was called "jumpin' the broomstick."

Signs were "more true" in the olden days than now. God lead his people by dreams then. One night Shade dreamed of a certain road he used to walk over often and at the fork he found a lead pencil, then a little farther on he dreamed of a purse with $2.43 in it. Next day he went farther and just like the dream he found the pocketbook with $2.43 in it.

Shade now works at the Kincaid Mill No. 2, he makes sacks and takes up waste. He thinks he's lived so long because he never eats hot food or takes any medicine. "People takes too much medicine now days" he says and when he feels bad he just smokes his corn cob pipe or takes a chew of tobacco.



DORA ROBERTS

Dora Roberts was born in 1849 and was a slave of Joseph Maxwell of Liberty County. The latter owned a large number of slaves and plantations in both Liberty and Early Counties. During the war "Salem" the plantation in Liberty County was sold and the owner moved to Early County where he owned two plantations known as "Nisdell" and "Rosedhu".

Today, at 88 years of age, Aunt Dora is a fine specimen of the fast disappearing type of ante-bellum Negro. Her shrewd dark eyes glowing, a brown paper sack perched saucily on her white cottony hair, and puffing contentedly on an old corn cob pipe, the old woman began her recital what happened during plantation days.

"Dey is powerful much to tell ob de days ob slabry, chile, an' it come to me in pieces. Dis story ain't in no rotation 'cause my mind it don't do dat kinda function, but I tell it as it come ta me. De colored folks had dey fun as well as dey trials and tribulations, 'cause dat Sat'day nigh dance at de plantation wuz jist de finest ting we wanted in dem days. All de slabes fum de udder plantation dey cum ta our barn an' jine in an' if dey had a gal on dis plantation dey lob, den dat wuz da time dey would court. Dey would swing to de band dat made de music. My brother wuz de captain ob de quill band an' dey sure could make you shout an' dance til you quz [TR: wuz?] nigh 'bout exhausted. Atta findin' ya gal ta dat dance den you gits passes to come courtin' on Sundays. Den de most ob dom dey wants git married an' dey must den git de consent fum de massa ceremonies wuz read ober dem and de man git passes fo' de week-end ta syat [TR: stay?] wid his wife. But de slabes dey got togedder an' have dem jump over de broom stick an' have a big celebration an' dance an' make merry 'til morning and it's time fo' work agin.

"We worked de fields an' kep' up de plantation 'til freedom. Ebry Wednesday de massa come visit us an look ober de plantation ta see dat all is well. He talk ta de obersheer an' find out how good de work is. We lub de massa an' work ha'd fo' him.

"Ah kin 'member dat Wednesday night plain as it wuz yesterday. It seems lak de air 'round de quarters an' de big house filled wid excitement; eben de wind seem lak it wuz waitin' fo' som'ting. De dogs an' de pickaninnies dey sleep lazy like 'gainst de big gate waitin' fo' de crack ob dat whip which wuz de signal dat Julius wuz bringin' de master down de long dribe under de oaks. Chile, us all wuz happy knowin' date de fun would start.

"All of a sudden you hear dem chilluns whoop, an' de dogs bark, den de car'age roll up wid a flourish, an' de coachman dressed in de fines' git out an' place de cookie try on de groun'. Den dey all gadder in de circle an' fo' dey git dey supply, dey got ta do de pigeon wing.

"Chile, you ain't neber seen sich flingin' ob de arms an' legs in yo' time. Dem pickaninnies dey had de natural born art ob twistin' dey body any way dey wish. Dat dere ting dey calls truckin' now an' use to be chimmy, ain't had no time wid de dancin' dem chilluns do. Dey claps dey hands and keep de time, while dat old brudder ob mine he blows de quills. Massa he would allus bring de big tray ob 'lasses cookies fo' all de chilluns. Fast as de tray would empty, Massa send ta de barrel fo' more. De niggers do no work dat day, but dey jist celebrate.

"Atta de war broke out we wuz all ca'yhed up to de plantation in Early County to stay 'til atta de war. De day de mancipation wuz read dey wuz sadness an' gladness. De ole Massa he call us all togedder an' wid tears in his eyes he say—'You is all free now an' you can go jist whar you please. I hab no more jurisdiction ober you. All who stay will be well cared for.' But de most ob us wanted to come back to de place whar we libed befo'—Liberty County.

"So he outfitted de wagons wid horses an' mules an' gib us what dey wuz ob privisions on de plantation an' sent us on our way ta de ole plantation in Liberty County. Dare wuz six horses ta de wagons. 'Long de way de wagons broke down 'cause de mules ain't had nothin' ta eat an' most ob dem died. We git in sich a bad fix some ob de people died. When it seem lak we wuz all gwine die, a planter come along de road an' he stopped ta find out what wuz de matter. Wan he heard our story an' who our master wuz he git a message to him 'bout us.

"It seem lak de good Lord musta answered de prayers ob his chillun fo' 'long way down de road we seed our Massa comin' an' he brung men an' horses to git us safely ta de ole home. When he got us dare, I neber see him no more 'cause he went back up in Early County an' atta I work dere at de plantation a long time den I come ta de city whyah my sister be wid one ob my master's oldest daughters—a Mrs. Dunwodies[TR: ?? first letter of name not readable], who she wuz nursin' fo'.

"An' dat's 'bout all dey is ta tell. When I sits an' rocks here on de porch it all comes back ta me. Seems sometimes lak I wuz still dere on de plantation. An' it seem lak it's mos' time fo' de massa ta be comin' ta see how tings are goin'."



Written by Ruth Chitty Research Worker District #2 Rewritten by Velma Bell

EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW: AUNT FEREBE ROGERS Baldwin County Milledgeville, Ga.

More than a century lies in the span of memory of "Aunt Ferebe" Rogers. The interviewers found her huddled by the fireside, all alone while her grandaughter worked on a WPA Project to make the living for them both. In spite of her years and her frail physique, her memory was usually clear, only occasionally becoming too misty for scenes to stand out plainly. Her face lighted with a reminiscent smile when she was asked to "tell us something about old times."

"I 'members a whole heap 'bout slav'ey times. Law, honey, when freedom come I had five chillen. Five chillen and ten cents!" and her crackled laughter was spirited.

"Dey says I'm a hundred and eight or nine years old, but I don't think I'm quite as old as dat. I knows I'se over a hundred, dough.

"I was bred and born on a plantation on Brier Creek in Baldwin County. My ole marster was Mr. Sam Hart. He owned my mother. She had thirteen chillen. I was de oldest, so I tuck devil's fare.

"My daddy was a ole-time free nigger. He was a good shoe-maker, and could make as fine shoes and boots as ever you see. But he never would work till he was plumb out o' money—den he had to work. But he quit jes' soon as he made a little money. Mr. Chat Morris (he had a regular shoe shop)—he offered him studdy work makin' boots and shoes for him. Was go'n' pay him $300. a year. But he wouldn't take it. Was too lazy. De ole-time free niggers had to tell how dey make dey livin', and if dey couldn't give satisfaction 'bout it, dey was put on de block and sold to de highest bidder. Most of 'em sold for 3 years for $50. My daddy brought $100. when he was sold for three or four years.

"I was on de block twice myself. When de old head died dey was so many slaves for de chillen to draw for, we was put on de block. Mr. John Baggett bought me den; said I was a good breedin' 'oman. Den later, one de young Hart marsters bought me back.

"All de slaves had diff'unt work to do. My auntie was one de weavers. Old Miss had two looms goin' all de time. She had a old loom and a new loom. My husband made de new loom for Old Miss. He was a carpenter and he worked on outside jobs after he'd finished tasks for his marster. He use to make all de boxes dey buried de white folks and de slaves in, on de Hart and Golden Plantations. Dey was pretty as you see, too.

"I was a fiel' han' myself. I come up twix' de plow handles. I warn't de fastes' one wid a hoe, but I didn't turn my back on nobody plowin'. No, mam.

"My marster had over a thousand acres o' land. He was good to us. We had plenty to eat, like meat and bread and vegetables. We raised eve'ything on de plantation—wheat, corn, potatoes, peas, hogs, cows, sheep, chickens—jes' eve'ything.

"All de clo'es was made on de plantation, too. Dey spun de thread from cotton and wool, and dyed it and wove it. We had cutters and dem dat done de sewin'. I still got de fus' dress my husband give me. Lemme show it to you."

Gathering her shawl about her shoulders, and reaching for her stick, she hobbled across the room to an old hand-made chest.

"My husband made dis chis' for me." Raising the top, she began to search eagerly through the treasured bits of clothing for the "robe-tail muslin" that had been the gift of a long-dead husband. One by one the garments came out—her daughter's dress, two little bonnets all faded and worn ("my babies' bonnets"), her husband's coat.

"And dat's my husband's mother's bonnet. It use to be as pretty a black as you ever see. It's faded brown now. It was dyed wid walnut."

The chest yielded up old cotton cards, and horns that had been used to call the slaves. Finally the "robe-tail muslin" came to light. The soft material, so fragile with age that a touch sufficed to reduce it still further to rags, was made with a full skirt and plain waist, and still showed traces of a yellow color and a sprigged design.

"My husband was Kinchen Rogers. His marster was Mr. Bill Golden, and he live 'bout fo' mile from where I stayed on de Hart plantation."

"Aunt Ferebe, how did you meet your husband?"

"Well, you see, us slaves went to de white folks church a-Sunday. Marster, he was a prim'tive Baptis', and he try to keep his slaves from goin' to other churches. We had baptisin's fust Sundays. Back in dem days dey baptised in de creek, but at de windin' up o' freedom, dey dug a pool. I went to church Sundays, and dat's where I met my husband. I been ma'ied jes' one time. He de daddy o' all my chillen'. (I had fifteen in all.)"

"Who married you, Aunt Ferebe. Did you have a license?"

"Who ever heered a nigger havin' a license?" and she rocked with high-pitched laughter.

"Young marster was fixin' to ma'y us, but he got col' feet, and a nigger by name o' Enoch Golden ma'ied us. He was what we called a 'double-headed nigger'—he could read and write, and he knowed so much. On his dyin' bed he said he been de death o' many a nigger 'cause he taught so many to read and write.

"Me and my husband couldn't live together till after freedom 'cause we had diffunt marsters. When freedom come, marster wanted all us niggers to sign up to stay till Chris'man. Bless, yo' soul, I didn't sign up. I went to my husband! But he signed up to stay wid his marster till Chris'man. After dat we worked on shares on de Hart plantation; den we farmed fo'-five years wid Mr. Bill Johnson."

"Aunt Ferebe, are these better times, or do you think slavery times were happier?"

"Well, now, you ax me for de truth, didn't you?—and I'm goin' to tell yo' de truth. I don't tell no lies. Yes, mam, dese has been better times to me. I think hit's better to work for yourself and have what you make dan to work for somebody else and don't git nuttin' out it. Slav'ey days was mighty hard. My marster was good to us (I mean he didn't beat us much, and he give us plenty plain food) but some slaves suffered awful. My aunt was beat cruel once, and lots de other slaves. When dey got ready to beat yo', dey'd strip you' stark mother naked and dey'd say, 'Come here to me, God damn you! Come to me clean! Walk up to dat tree, and damn you, hug dat tree! Den dey tie yo' hands 'round de tree, den tie yo' feets; den dey'd lay de rawhide on you and cut yo' buttocks open. Sometimes dey'd rub turpentine and salt in de raw places, and den beat you some mo'. Oh, hit was awful! And what could you do? Dey had all de 'vantage of you.

"I never did git no beatin' like dat, but I got whuppin's—plenty o' 'em. I had plenty o' devilment in me, but I quit all my devilment when I was ma'ied. I use to fight—fight wid anything I could git my han's on.

"You had to have passes to go from one plantation to 'nother. Some de niggers would slip off sometime and go widout a pass, or maybe marster was busy and dey didn't want to bother him for a pass, so dey go widout one. In eve'y dee-strick dey had 'bout twelve men dey call patterollers. Dey ride up and down and aroun' looking for niggers widout passes. If dey ever caught you off yo' plantation wid no pass, dey beat you all over.

"Yes'm, I 'member a song 'bout—

'Run, nigger, run, de patteroller git you, Slip over de fence slick as a eel, White man ketch you by de heel, Run, nigger run!'"