At this point Ward began to smile, and when he was asked the cause of his mirth, he replied that he was thinking about his fellow slaves beliefs in conjuring one another. This was done by putting some sort of wild berries in the person's food. What he can't understand is why some of this black magic was not tried on the white people since they were holding the Negroes as slaves.

Ward recalls vividly Sherman's march through Georgia. When Sherman reached the present site of Hapeville, he bombarded Atlanta with cannon, afterwards marching through and burning the city. The white residents made all sorts of frantic attempts to hide their money and other valuables. Some hiding places were under stumps of trees and in sides of hills. Incidentally Sherman's army found quite a bit of the hidden wealth. Slaves were never allowed to talk over events and so very few, if any, knew about the war or its results for them before it actually happened. At the time that Sherman marched through Atlanta, Ward and other slaves were living in an old mansion at the present site of Peachtree and Baker Streets. He says that Sherman took him and his fellow slaves as far as Virginia to carry powder and shot to the soldiers. He states that he himself did not know whether Sherman intended to keep him in slavery or free him. At the close of the war, his master, Mr. Brown, became ill and died later. Before His death he informed the slaves that they could remain on his property or go where they wanted to. Ward was taken to Mississippi where he remained in another form of slavery (Peonage System) for 40 years. He remembers when Atlanta was just a few hills without any buildings. Some of the buildings he worked on are the Herman Building and the original Kimball House, a picture of which is attached.

He attributes his old age to his belief in God and living a sane life. Whenever he feels bad or in low spirits, a drink of coffee or a small amount of whisky is enough to brace him. He believes that his remedy is better than that used in slavery which consisted mainly of pills and castor oil.

With a cheerful good-bye, Ward asked that the writer stop in to see him again; said that he would rather live in the present age under existing conditions than live in slavery.



Driskell JWL 10-12-37

[MR. WILLIAM WARD]

Following is Mr. William Ward's description of the bed called "The Grand Rascal."

"De beds dat all o' de slaves slept in wus called 'Grand Rascals'. Dey wus made on de same order as a box. De way dey made 'em wus like dis: dey took four strips of narrow wood, each one of 'em 'bout a foot wide, an' den dey nailed 'em together so dat dey wus in de shape of a square. Den dey nailed a bottom onto dis square shape. Dis bottom wus called de slats. When dis wus finished dey set dis box on some legs to keep it off'n de floor, an' den dey got busy wid de mattress. Dey took ol' oat sacks an' filled 'em wid straw an' hay an' den dey put dis in de box an' slept on it. Dere wusn't no springs on dese bunks an' everybody had a hard time sleepin'.

"De real name of dese wus 'Sonova-Bitches' but de slaves called 'em 'Grand Rascals' 'cause dey didn't want people to hear 'em use a bad word.

"After Sherman come through Atlanta he let de slaves go, an' when he did, me an' some of de other slaves went back to our ol' masters. Ol' man Gov. Brown wus my boss man. After de war wus over Ol' man Gordon took me an' some of de others out to Mississippi. I stayed in peonage out dere fer 'bout forty years. I wus located at jes' 'bout forty miles south of Greenwood, an' I worked on de plantations of Ol' man Sara Jones an' Ol' man Gordon.

"I couldn't git away 'cause dey watched us wid guns all de time. When de levee busted dat kinda freed me. Man, dey was devils; dey wouldn't 'low you to go nowhere—not even to church. You done good to git sumpin' to eat. Dey wouldn't give you no clothes, an' if you got wet you jes' had to lay down in whut you got wet in.

"An', man, dey would whup you in spite of de devil. You had to ask to git water—if you didn't dey would stretch you 'cross a barrel an' wear you out. If you didn't work in a hurry dey would whup you wid a strap dat had five-six holes in it. I ain't talkin' 'bout whut I heard—I'm talkin' 'bout whut I done see'd.

"One time dey sent me on Ol' man Mack Williams' farm here in Jasper County, Georgia. Dat man would kill you sho. If dat little branch on his plantation could talk it would tell many a tale 'bout folks bein' knocked in de head. I done seen Mack Williams kill folks an' I done seen 'im have folks killed. One day he tol' me dat if my wife had been good lookin', I never would sleep wid her again 'cause he'd kill me an' take her an' raise chilluns off'n her. Dey uster take women away fum dere husbands an' put wid some other man to breed jes' like dey would do cattle. Dey always kept a man penned up an' dey used 'im like a stud hoss.

"When you didn't do right Ol' Mack Williams would shoot you or tie a chain 'roun your neck an' throw you in de river. He'd git dem other niggers to carry dem to de river an' if dey didn't he'd shoot 'em down. Any time dey didn't do whut he said he would shoot 'em down. He'd tell 'em to "Ketch dat nigger", an' dey would do it. Den he would tell 'em to put de chain 'roun dere neck an' throw 'em in de river. I ain't heard dis—I done seen it.

"In 1927 I wus still in peonage but I wus back in Mississippi on Gordon's farm. When de levee broke in May of dat same year I lost my wife an' three chilluns. I climbed a tree an' stayed dere fer four days an' four nights. Airplanes dropped food an' when I got ready to eat I had to squeeze de water out of de bread. After four days I got out of de tree an' floated on logs down de river 'till I got to Mobile, Alabama, an' I wade fum dere to Palmetto, Georgia, where I got down sick. De boss mans dere called Gov. Harden an' he sent de Grady Hospital examiners down dere an' got me an' I been in Atlanta since dat time."



Willie H. Cole 10-8-37

THE STORY OF AN EX-SLAVE [MRS. LULA WASHINGTON, Age 84]

Mrs. Lula Washington was born a slave. She claims to be eighty-four years old.

Mrs. Washington was confined to bed because of a recent accident in which she received a broken leg.

She is the mother of twenty-three children of which only two are living. She lives in one room at 64 Butler St., N.E. with one of her daughters. Since the death of her husband several years ago she has been making her living as a dray-women, driving a mule and wagon.

Following are some of the events she remembers. "Ah wuz born in Randolph, Alabama on de plantation of Marster John Terrell, de sixth child of my mammy and pappy".

"When ah wuz six years old marster John sold me an' my sister, Lize and brother, Ben to Marster Charlie Henson."

"Marster Charlie wuz good to his niggers.

"He never whipped dem 'less dey done somethin' awful bad, like stealin chickens or slipping off de plantation without permission."

"It wuz funny, de white folks would whipped de niggers for stealin' but if dey saw a hog in de woods, dey would make the niggers catch de hog an kill him an hide him under dey bushes. Den at night de niggers would hafta' go down to de spring, build a fire, heat water an skin de hog."

"De man on de plantation next to us' shore wuz mean to his niggers, Marster Jim Roberts wus his name. He would take his niggers an strip there clothes to dere waist an' lay dem 'cross a barrel an beat dem 'til the blood run. Den he would pore salt water on de sore places."

"Oh 'member one time he tied two wimmen by dere thumbs to a limb of a tree for blessin' out the missus."

"Us had plenty to eat and plenty to wear, calico dresses an' brogan shoes. Sometimes dere misses would give the wimmen some of her old clothes".

"All de niggers on Marster Charlie's plantation had to work in de field 'cept Malindy Lu, a Mulatto nigger gal. Marster Charlie kept her in de house to take care of Missus Jane, dat wuz Marster Charlie wife."

"One thing 'bout de mulatto niggers, wuz, dey thought dey wuz better than de black niggers. I guess it wuz 'cause dey was half white. Dere wuz a bad feelin' 'tween the mulatto slaves an de black ones."

Asked, how did the slaves marry? She replied, "Ah jest don't 'member seeing any marry 'cause ah wuz so small. Ah wuz jest eleven years old de time of de war but ah' members hearing some of dem say dat when two slaves wanted to git married dey would hafta get permission from dere marster. Den dey would come 'fore de marster an' he would have dem to jump over a broom an den 'nounce dem married."

"When de Yankees come thru" de white folks told us to go down to de swamp an hide cause dey would git us. When de war wuz over de white folks told us we wuz free."

"Marster Terrell gave my mammy an pappy a oxcart an mule an a bushel of meal. Den my pappy an mammy come got me an my sister an' brother. Den we come from Randolph, Alabama to Georgia."

"Sometimes I wish I wuz back in slavery, times is so hard."

Mrs. Washington's chief concern now is getting her old-age pension.



PLANTATION LIFE AS VIEWED BY AN EX-SLAVE

GREEN WILLBANKS, Age 77 347 Fairview Street Athens, Georgia

Written by: Mrs. Sadie B. Hornsby Athens

Edited by: Mrs. Sarah H. Hall Athens

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

Sept. 19, 1938

Fairview Street, where Green Willbanks lives is a section of shabby cottages encircled by privet hedges.

As the visitor carefully ascended the shaky steps to his house a mulatto man, who was sitting on the veranda, quickly arose. "Good morning," he said, "Yes mam, this is Green Willbanks. Have a seat in the swing." The porch furniture was comprised of a chair, a swing, and a long bench. Green is tall, slender, and stooped; a man with white hair and grizzled face. A white broadcloth shirt, white cotton trousers, blue socks, and low-cut black shoes made up his far from immaculate costume.

The old man's eyes brightened when he was asked to give the story of his life. His speech showed but little dialect, except when he was carried away by interest and emotion, and his enunciation was remarkably free from Negroid accent.

"I don't mind telling you what I know," he began, "but I was such a little chap when the war ended that there's mighty little I can recollect about slavery time, and it seems that your chief interest is in that period. I was born on a plantation the other side of Commerce, Georgia, in Jackson County. My Ma and Pa were Mary and Isom Willbanks; they were raised on the same plantation where I was born. Ma was a field hand, and this time of the year when work was short in the field—laying-by time, we called it—and on rainy days she spun thread and wove cloth. As the thread left the spinning wheel it went on a reel where it was wound into hanks, and then it was carried to the loom to be woven into cloth. Pa had a little trade; he made shoes and baskets, and Old Boss let him sell them. Pa didn't make shoes for the slaves on our plantation; Old Boss bought them ready-made and had them shipped here from the West.

"Me and Jane, Sarah, Mitchell, and Willie were the five children in our family. Oh! Miss, I was not big enough to do much work. About the most I done was pick up chips and take my little tin bucket to the spring to get a cool, fresh drink for Old Miss. Us children stayed 'round the kitchen and drunk lots of buttermilk. Old Miss used to say, 'Give my pickaninnies plenty of buttermilk.' I can see that old churn now; it helt about seven or eight gallons.

"Our houses? Slaves lived in log cabins built the common way. There was lots of forest pine in those days. Logs were cut the desired length and notches put in each end so they would fit closely and have as few cracks as possible, when they stacked them for a cabin. They sawed pine logs into blocks and used a frow to split them into planks that were used to cover the cracks between the logs. Don't you know what a frow is? That's a wooden wedge that you drive into a pine block by hitting it with a heavy wooden mallet, or maul, as they are more commonly called. They closed the cracks in some of the cabins by daubing them with red mud. The old stack chimneys were made of mud and sticks. To make a bed, they first cut four posts, usually of pine, and bored holes through them with augers; then they made two short pieces for the head and foot. Two long pieces for the sides were stuck through the auger holes and the bedstead was ready to lay on the slats or cross pieces to hold up the mattress. The best beds had heavy cords, wove crossways and lengthways, instead of slats. Very few slaves had corded beds. Mattresses were not much; they were made of suggin sacks filled with straw. They called that straw 'Georgia feathers.' Pillows were made of the same things. Suggin cloth was made of coarse flax wove in a loom. They separated the flax into two grades; fine for the white folks, and coarse for the Negroes.

"The only one of my grandparents I can bring to memory now is Grandma Rose on my Pa's side. She was some worker, a regular man-woman; she could do any kind of work a man could do. She was a hot horse in her time and it took an extra good man to keep up with her when it came to work.

"Children were not allowed to do much work, because their masters desired them to have the chance to grow big and strong, and therefore they had few opportunities to earn money of their own. I never did own any money during slavery days, but I saw plenty of ten cent greenbacks (shinplasters).

"White children and slave children played around the plantation together but they were not allowed to fight. They had to be on friendly terms with each other.

"What about our food? The biggest thing we had was buttermilk, some sweet milk, and plenty of cornbread, hog meat, and peas. As a rule we had wheat bread once a week, usually on Sunday. All kinds of fruits were plentiful in their seasons. Each slave family was permitted to have separate garden space, in fact, Old Boss insisted that they work their own gardens, and they raised plenty of vegetables. Grown folks had rabbits and 'possums but I never did get much 'quainted with them. We fished in the cricks and rills 'round the plantation and brought in lots of hornyheads and perch. You never saw any hornyheads? Why they is just fish a little bigger and longer than minnows and they have little horns on their heads. We caught a good many eels too; they look like snakes, but folks call them eels. I wasn't much 'quainted with them fish they brought from way down South; they called them mullets.

"The kitchen was a separate log house out in the back yard. The fireplace, where the cooking was done, took up one end of the kitchen, and there was a rack acrost it to hang the cook-pots on for biling. Baking and frying was done in ovens and heavy iron skillets that sat on trivets so coals could be piled underneath, as well as over the lids.

"The long shirts slave boys wore in summer were straight like a meal sack open at both ends, with holes in the sides for your arms to go through. You stuck your head in one end and it came out the other; then you were fully dressed for any whole summer day. These summer shirts were made of thin osnaburg. Our winter clothes were made of woolen cloth called merino. Old Boss kept enough sheep to provide plenty of wool and some mighty good food. Slave children had no extra or special clothes for Sunday; they wore the same kind of gowns, or long shirts, seven days a week. Old Boss provided brass-toed brogans for winter, but we never thought of such a thing as shoes to wear in hot weather.

"My owners were Marse Solomon and his wife, Miss Ann Willbanks. We called them Old Boss and Old Miss. As I saw it, they were just as good as they could be. Old Boss never allowed nobody to impose on his slave children. When I was a little chap playing around the big house, I would often drop off to sleep the minute I got still. Good Old Boss would pick me up and go lay me on his own bed and keep me there 'til Ma come in from the field.

"Old Boss and Old Miss had five children. The boys were Solomon, Isaac, James, and Wesley. For the life of me I can't bring to memory the name of their only daughter. I guess that's because we frolicked with the four boys, but we were not allowed to play with Little Miss.

"It was a right decent house they lived in, a log house with a fine rock chimney. Old Boss was building a nice house when the war come on and he never had a chance to finish it. The log house was in a cedar grove; that was the style then. Back of the house were his orchards where fruit trees of every kind we knew anything about provided plenty for all to eat in season as well as enough for good preserves, pickles, and the like for winter. Old Boss done his own overseeing and, 'cording to my memory, one of the young bosses done the driving.

"That plantation covered a large space of land, but to tell you how many acres is something I can't do. There were not so many slaves. I've forgot how they managed that business of getting slaves up, but I do know we didn't get up before day on our place. Their rule was to work slaves from sunup to sundown. Before they had supper they had a little piddlin' around to do, but the time was their own to do as they pleased after they had supper. Heaps of times they got passes and went off to neighboring plantations to visit and dance, but sometimes they went to hold prayer-meetings. There were certain plantations where we were not permitted to go and certain folks were never allowed on our place. Old Boss was particular about how folks behaved on his place; all his slaves had to come up to a certain notch and if they didn't do that he punished them in some way or other. There was no whipping done, for Old Boss never did believe in whipping slaves.

"None of the slaves from our place was ever put in that county jail at Jefferson. That was the only jail we ever heard of in those days. Old Boss attended to all the correction necessary to keep order among his own slaves. Once a slave trader came by the place and offered to buy Ma. Old Boss took her to Jefferson to sell her on the block to that man. It seemed like sales of slaves were not legal unless they took place on the trading block in certain places, usually in the county site. The trader wouldn't pay what Old Boss asked for her, and Old Miss and the young bosses all objected strong to his selling her, so he brought Ma back home. She was a fine healthy woman and would have made a nice looking house girl.

"The biggest part of the teaching done among the slaves was by our young bosses but, as far as schools for slaves was concerned, there were no such things until after the end of the war, and then we were no longer slaves. There were just a few separate churches for slaves; none in our part of the country. Slaves went to the same church as their white folks and sat in the back of the house or in a gallery. My Pa could read the Bible in his own way, even in that time of slavery; no other slave on our place could do that.

"Not one slave or white person either died on our plantation during the part of slavery that I can bring to memory. I was too busy playing to take in any of the singing at funerals and at church, and I never went to a baptizing until I was a great big chap, long after slavery days were over.

"Slaves ran off to the woods all right, but I never heard of them running off to no North. Paterollers never came on Old Boss' place unless he sont for them, otherwise they knowed to stay off. They sho was devils in sheeps' clothing; that's what we thought of them paterollers. Slaves worked all day Saddays when there was work to be done, but that night was their free time. They went where they pleased just so Old Boss gave them a pass to protect them from paterollers.

"After slaves went to church Sunday they were free the rest of the day as far as they knowed. Lots of times they got 'em a stump speaker—usually a Negro—to preach to them. There were not as many preachers then as now.

"'Bout Christmas Day? They always had something like brandy, cider, or whiskey to stimulate the slaves on Christmas Day. Then there was fresh meat and ash-roasted sweet 'taters, but no cake for slaves on our place, anyhow, I never saw no cake, and surely no Santa Claus. All we knowed bout Christmas was eating and drinking. As a general thing there was a big day's work expected on New Years Day because we had to start the year off right, even if there was nothing for the slaves to do that day but clean fence corners, cut brush and briers, and burn off new ground. New Years Day ended up with a big old pot of hog jowl and peas. That was for luck, but I never really knowed if it brought luck or not.

"Well, yes, once a year they had big cornshuckings in our section and they had generals to lead off in all the singing; that was done to whoop up the work. My Pa was one of the generals and he toted the jug of liquor that was passed 'round to make his crowd hustle. After the corn was shucked the crowd divided into two groups. Their object was to see which could reach the owner of the corn first and carry him where he wanted to go. Usually they marched with him on their shoulders to his big house and set him down on his porch, then he would give the word for them to all start eating the good things spread out on tables in the yard. There was a heap of drinking done then, and dancing too—just all kinds of dancing that could be done to fiddle and banjo music. My Pa was one of them fiddlers in his young days. One of the dances was the cotillion, but just anybody couldn't dance that one. There was a heap of bowing and scraping to it, and if you were not 'quainted with it you just couldn't use it.

"When any of the slaves were bad sick Old Boss called in his own family doctor, Dr. Joe Bradbury. His plantation hit up against ours. The main things they gave for medicine them days was oil and turpentine. Sometimes folks got black snakeroot from the woods, biled it, and gave the tea to sick folks; that was to clean off the stomach. Everybody wore buckeyes 'round their necks to keep off diseases for we never knowed nothing about asefetida them days; that came later.

"When the Yankees came through after the surrender Old Boss and Old Miss hid their valuables. They told us children, 'Now, if they ask you questions, don't you tell them where we hid a thing.' We knowed enough to keep our mouths shut. We never had knowed nothing but to mind Old Boss, and we were scared 'cause our white folks seemed to fear the Yankees.

"Old Boss had done told slaves they were free as he was and could go their own way, but we stayed on with him. He provided for Pa and give him his share of the crops he made. All of us growed up as field hands.

"Them night-riders were something else. They sho did beat on Negroes that didn't behave mighty careful. Slaves didn't buy much land for a long time after the war because they didn't have no money, but schools were set up for Negroes very soon. I got the biggest part of my education in West Athens on Biggers Hill. When I went to the Union Baptist School my teacher was Professor Lyons, the founder of that institution.

"When me and Molly Tate were married 50 years ago we went to the church, because that was the cheapest place to go to have a big gathering. Molly had on a common, ordinary dress. Folks didn't dress up then like they does now; it was quite indifferent. Of our 10 children, 8 are living now and we have 14 grandchildren. Six of our children live in the North and two have remained here in Athens. One of them is employed at Bernstein's Funeral Home and the other works on the university campus. I thanks the Lord that Molly is still with me. We bought this place a long time ago and have farmed here ever since. In fact, I have never done nothing but farm work. Now I'm too old and don't have strength to work no more.

"I thinks Abraham Lincoln was a all right man; God so intended that we should be sot free. Jeff Davis was all right in his way, but I can't say much for him. Yes mam, I'd rather be free. Sho! Give me freedom all the time. Jesus said: 'If my Son sets you free, you shall be free indeed.'

"When I jined the church, I felt like I was rid of my burden. I sot aside the things I had been doing and I ain't never been back to pick 'em up no more. I jined the Baptist church and have been teaching a class of boys every Sunday that I'm able to go. I sho am free from sin and I lives up to it.

"I wonder if Molly's got them sweet 'taters cooked what I dug this morning. They warn't much 'count 'cause the sun has baked them hard and it's been so dry. If you is through with me, I wants to go eat one of them 'taters and then lay this old Nigger on the bed and let him go to sleep."



[HW: Dist 5] Josephine Lowell

[HW: ELIZA WILLIAMSON]

[TR: This interview contained many handwritten edits; where text was transposed or meaning was significantly changed, it has been noted.]

Just a few recollections of life in slavery time, as told me by [TR: illegible] who was Eliza Taliaferro Williamson, daughter of Dickerson and Polly Taliaferro. My mother was born at Mt. Airy, North Carolina, near the Virginia line, and always went to school, across the line, in Virginia. Her grandfather was John Taliaferro, slave holder, tobacco raiser, and farmer. The Negro quarters were near the main or Big House. Mother said that great-grandfather would go to the back door each night and call every slave to come in for family prayer. They came and knelt in the Big House, while old marster prayed. Mother said it was like a camp-meeting when he died—wailing and weeping by the Negroes for their old Marster. She said the slaves had the same food that the white family had and the same warm clothes for winter. All clothing, bed sheeting, table linen, towels, etc. were hand woven. They raised sheep for wool, and flax for linen, but I don't know where they got the cotton they used. The work of the house and farm was divided as with a big family. Some of the women cooked, sewed, wove, washed, milked, but was never sent to the field. None of the Toliver family believed in women working in the field. When each of great-grandfather's children married, he or she was given a few slaves. I think he gave my grandfather, Dickerson Taliaferro, three slaves, and these he brought with him to Georgia when they settled in Whitfield County.

My grandfather was a member of the Legislature from Whitfield County for two terms. He was as gentle with his slaves as a father would have been, and was never known to abuse one of them. One of his slaves, who was a small boy at the close of the War, stayed with my grandfather until he was a grown man, then after a few years away from home, came home to old Marster to die. This is the picture of good slave holders, but sad to say all were not of that type. [TR: deleted: 'See next sheet for'] a picture of horror, which was also told me by my mother. [TR: deleted: 'The thought of it'] was like a nightmare to my childish mind.

The Story of little Joe.

[TR: deleted: 'Mother said there were'] two families lived on farms adjacent to her father. They were the two Tucker brothers, tobacco raisers. One of the wives, Polly, or Pol, as she was called, hated the family of her husband's brother because they were more affluent than she liked them to be. It [HW: Her jealousy] caused the two families to live in disagreement.

Little Joe belonged to Pol's family, and was somewhere between ten and fourteen years old. Mother said Pol made Joe work in the field at night, and forced him to sing so they would know he wasn't asleep. He wore nothing in summer but an old shirt made of rough factory cloth which came below his knees. She said the only food Pol would give him was swill [HW: scraps] from the table—handed to him out the back door. Mother said Pol had some kind of impediment in her speech, which caused her to say 'ah' at the close of a sentence. So, when she called Joe to the back door to give him his mess of scraps, she would say, "Here, Joe, here's your truck, ah." Mother was a little girl then, and she and grandmother felt so sorry for Joe that they would bake baskets of sweet potatoes and slip [TR: 'to the field to give him' replaced with illegible text ending 'in the field']. She said he would come through the corn, almost crawling, so Pol wouldn't see him, and take the sweet potatoes in the tail of his shirt and scuttle back through the tall stuff where he might hide and eat it them.

She had a Negro woman who had a baby (and there may have been other women) but this Negro woman was not allowed to see her baby except just as a cow would be let in to her calf at certain times during the day, [TR: 'then' replaced by ??] she had to go to the field and leave it alone. Mother said that Pol either threw or kicked the baby into the yard because it cried, and it died. I don't know why the authorities didn't arrest her, but she may have had an alibi, or some excuse for the death of the child.

The Burning of the Tobacco Barn

The [HW: other] Tucker brother had made a fine crop of tobacco that year, more than a thousand dollars worth in his big barn. Pol made one of her slaves go with her, [HW: when] and she set fire to the tobacco barn of her brother-in-law's barn, and not being able to get away [HW: unable to escape] before the flames [HW: brought] a crowd, she hid in the grass, right near the path where the people were running to the fire. She had some kind of stroke, perhaps from fright, or pure deviltry which 'put her out of business'. I wish I could remember whether it killed her or just made a paralytic of her, but this is a true story.



PLANTATION LIFE AS VIEWED BY AN EX-SLAVE

FRANCES WILLINGHAM, Age 78 288 Bridge Street Athens, Georgia

Written by: Sadie B. Hornsby Athens

Edited by: Sarah H. Hall Athens

Leila Harris Augusta

and John N. Booth District Supervisor Federal Writers' Project Residencies 6 & 7

The interviewer arrived at Frances Willingham's address on a sultry July morning, and found a fat and very black Negress sweeping the sidewalk before the three-room frame house. There was no front yard and the front steps led up from the sidewalk into the house. A vegetable garden was visible at the rear of the lot. The plump sweeper appeared to be about five feet tall. Her wooly white hair was plaited in tiny braids, and she wore a brown print dress trimmed in red and blue. A strand of red beads encircled her short neck, and a blue checked coat and high topped black shoes completed her costume. Asked if Frances Willingham was at home, the woman replied: "Dis is her you is a-talkin' to. Come right in and have a seat."

When Frances was asked for the story of her life, her daughter who had doubtless been eavesdropping, suddenly appeared and interrupted the conversation with, "Ma, now don't you git started 'bout dem old times. You knows your mind ain't no good no more. Tomorrow your tongue will be runnin' lak a bell clapper a-talkin' to yourself." "Shut your big mouth, Henrietta." Frances answered. "I been sick, and I knows it, but dere ain't nothin' wrong wid my mind and you knows it. What I knows I'se gwine to tell de lady, and what I don't know I sho' ain't gwine tell no lie about. Now, Missus, what does you want to know? Don't pay no 'tention to dis fool gal of mine 'cause her mouth is big as dis room.

"I was born way off down in Twiggs County 'bout a mile from de town of Jeffersonville. My Pa and Ma was Otto and Sarah Rutherford. Our Mist'ess, dat was Miss Polly, she called Ma, Sallie for short. Dere was nine of us chillun, me and Esau, Harry, Jerry, Bob, Calvin, Otto, Sallie and Susan. Susan was our half-sister by our Pa's last marriage. Us chillun never done much but play 'round de house and yards wid de white chillun. I warn't but four years old when dey made us free." Henrietta again interrupted, "See dere, I told you she don't know what she's a-talkin' 'bout."

Frances ignored the interruption and continued: "Us lived in log cabins what had jus' one room wid a stick and mud chimbly at de end. Our bedsteads was made out of rough planks and poles and some of 'em was nailed to de sides of de cabins. Mattress ticks was made out of osnaburg and us filled 'em wid wheat straw in season. When dat was used up us got grass from de fields. Most any kind of hay was counted good 'nough to put in a slave's mattress. Dey let us mix some cotton wid de hay our pillows was stuffed wid.

"My grandmas lived on another plantation. I 'members once Grandma Suck, she wes my Ma's mammy, come to our house and stayed one or two days wid us. Daddy's Ma was named Puss. Both my grandmas was field hands, but Ma, she was a house gal 'til she got big enough to do de cyardin' and spinnin'. Aunt Phoebie done de weavin' and Aunt Polly was de seamster. All de lak of dat was done atter de craps was done laid by.

"No Ma'am, nobody never give slave chillun no money in dem times. I never had none 'til atter us had done been give our freedom. I used to see Old Marster countin' of it, but de slaves never did git none of dat money.

"Our Old Marster was a pow'ful rich man, and he sho' b'lieved in givin' us plenty to eat. It warn't nothin' fine, but it was good plain eatin' what filled you up and kept you well. Dere was cornbread and meat, greens of all sorts, 'taters, roas'en-ears and more other kinds of veg'tables dan I could call up all day. Marster had one big old gyarden whar he kept most evvything a-growin' 'cept cabbages and 'matoes. He said dem things warn't fittin' for nobody to eat. Marster let Daddy go huntin' enough to fetch in lots of 'possums, coons, rabbits, and squirrels. Us cooked 'em 'bout lak us does now, only us never had no stoves den, and had to do all de cookin' in open fireplaces in big old pots and long handled skillets what had big old heavy lids. I'se seed Ma clean many a 'possum in hot ashes. Den she scalded him and tuk out his innards. She par-boiled and den baked him and when she fetched him to de table wid a heap of sweet 'taters 'round him on de dish, dat was sho' somepin good to eat. Daddy done his fishin' in Muddy Crick 'cause slaves wern't 'lowed to leave de plantation for nothin' lak dat.

"Summertimes us wore homespun dresses, made wid full skirts sewed on to tight fittin' waisties what was fastened down de back wid buttons made out of cows and rams horns. Our white petticoat slips and pantalettes was made on bodices. In winter us wore balmorals what had three stripes 'round de bottom, and over dem us had on long sleeved ap'ons what was long as de balmorals. Slave gals' pantalettes warn't ruffled and tucked and trimmed up wid lace and 'broidery lak Miss Polly's chilluns' was. Ours was jus' made plain. Grown folks wore rough brogans, but me, I wore de shoes what Miss Polly's chillun had done outgrowed. Dey called 'em Jackson shoes, 'cause dey was made wid a extra wide piece of leather sewed on de outside so as when you knocked your ankles 'gainst one another, it wouldn't wear no holes in your shoes. Our Sunday shoes warn't no diffunt from what us wore evvyday.

[TR: HW sidenote: 'durable', regarding Jackson Shoes]

"Marse Lish Jones and his wife—she was Miss Polly—was our Marster and Mist'ess. Dey sho' did love to be good to deir little Niggers. Dey had five chillun of deir own, two gals and three boys. Dey was: Mary, Anna Della, Steve, John, and Bob. 'Bout deir house! Oh, Missus, dat was somepin to see for sho'. It was a big old fine two-story frame house wid a porch 'cross de front and 'round both sides. Dere was five rooms on de fust floor and three upstairs. It sho' did look grand a-settin' back dar in dat big old oak grove.

"Old Marster had a overseer but he never had no car'iage driver 'cause he loved to drive for hisself so good. Oh Lord! How big was dat plantation? Why, it must have been as big as from here to town. I never did know how many slaves Marster had, but dat old plantation was plumb full of 'em. I ain't never seed Old Marster do nothin' 'cept drive his car'iage, walk a little, and eat all he wanted to. He was a rich man, and didn't have to do nothin'.

"Our overseer got all de slaves up 'fore break of day and dey had to be done et deir breakfast and in de field when de sun riz up. Dat sun would be down good 'fore dey got to de house at night. I never seed none of de grown folks git whupped, but I sho' got a good beatin' myself one time. I had done got up on top of de big house porch and was a-flappin' my arms and crowin' lak a rooster. Dey told me to come on down, but I wouldn't mind nobody and kept on a-crowin' and a-flappin', so dey whupped me down.

"Dey had jails in Jeffersonville, but dem jails was for white folks what didn't be-have deirselfs. Old Marster, de overseer, and de patterollers kept de slaves straight. Dey didn't need no jails for dem.

"I ain't never been to school a day in my life, 'cause when I was little, Niggers warn't 'lowed to larn to read and write. I heared Ma say de colored preacher read out of de Bible, but I never seed him do it, 'cause I never went to church none when I was a chap. Colored folks had deir own church in a out settlement called John De Baptist. Dat's whar all de slaves went to meetin'. Chilluns was 'lowed to go to baptizin's. Evvybody went to 'em. Dey tuk dem converts to a hole in de crick what dey had got ready for dat purpose. De preacher went fust, and den he called for de converts to come on in and have deir sins washed away.

"Our Marster sot aside a piece of ground 'long side of his own place for his Niggers to have a graveyard. Us didn't know nothin' 'bout no fun'rals. When one of de slaves died, dey was put in unpainted home-made coffins and tuk to de graveyard whar de grave had done been dug. Dey put 'em in dar and kivvered 'em up and dat was all dey done 'bout it.

"Us heared a plenty 'bout patterollers beatin' up Niggers what dey cotched off deir Marsters' plantations widout no passes. Sometimes dey cotched one of our Marster's slaves and sometimes dey didn't, but dey was all time on deir job.

"When slaves come in from de fields at night de 'omans cleant up deir houses atter dey et, and den washed and got up early next mornin' to put de clothes out to dry. Mens would eat, set 'round talkin' to other mens and den go to bed. On our place evvybody wukked on Saddays 'til 'bout three or four o'clock and if de wuk was tight dey wukked right on 'til night lak any other day. Sadday nights de young folks got together to have deir fun. Dey danced, frolicked, drunk likker, and de lak of dat. Old Marster warn't too hard on 'em no time, but he jus' let 'em have dat night to frolic. On Sunday he give dem what wanted 'em passes to go to church and visit 'round.

"Christmas times, chilluns went to bed early 'cause dey was skeered Santa Claus wouldn't come. Us carried our stockin's up to de big house to hang 'em up. Next mornin' us found 'em full of all sorts of good things, 'cept oranges. I never seed nary a orange 'til I was a big gal. Miss Polly had fresh meat, cake, syrup puddin' and plenty of good sweet butter what she 'lowanced out to her slaves at Christmas. Old Marster, he made syrup by de barrel. Plenty of apples and nuts and groundpeas was raised right dar on de plantation. In de Christmas, de only wuk slaves done was jus' piddlin' 'round de house and yards, cuttin' wood, rakin' leaves, lookin' atter de stock, waitin' on de white folks and little chores lak dat. Hard work started again on de day atter New Year's Day. Old Marster 'lowed 'em mighty little rest from den 'til atter de craps was laid by.

"Course Marster let his slaves have cornshuckin's, cornshellin's, cotton pickin's, and quiltin's. He had grove atter grove of pecan, chestnut, walnut, hickor'nut, scalybark, and chinquapin trees. When de nuts was all gathered, Old Marster sold 'em to de big men in de city. Dat was why he was so rich. Atter all dese things was gathered and tended to, he give his slaves a big feast and plenty to drink, and den he let 'em rest up a few days 'fore dey started back to hard wuk.

"I never seed but one marriage on Old Marster's plantation, and I never will forgit dat day. Miss Polly had done gimme one of little Miss Mary's sho' 'nough pretty dresses and I wore it to dat weddin', only dey never had no real weddin'. Dey was jus' married in de yard by de colored preacher and dat was all dere was to it.

"Ma used to tell us if us didn't be-have Raw Head and Bloody Bones would come git us and take us off. I tried to see him but I never did. Grown folks was all time skeerin' chillun. Then us went to bed at night, us used to see ghosties, what looked lak goats tryin' to butt us down. Ma said I evermore used to holler out in my sleep 'bout dem things I was so skeered of.

[HW sidenote: Home remedies]

"White folks was mighty good and kind when deir slaves got sick. Old Marster sont for Dr. 'Pree (DuPree) and when he couldn't git him, he got Dr. Brown. He made us swallow bitter tastin' powders what he had done mixed up in water. Miss Polly made us drink tea made out of Jerusalem oak weeds. She biled dem weeds and sweetened de tea wid syrup. Dat was good for stomach trouble, and us wore elder roots strung 'round our necks to keep off ailments.

"Mercy me! I'se seed plenty of dem yankees a-gwine and comin'. Dey come to our Marster's house and stole his good mules. Dey tuk what dey wanted of his meat, chickens, lard and syrup and den poured de rest of de syrup out on de ground. Atter de war was over Niggers got so rowdy dem Ku Kluxers come 'long to make 'em be-have deirselfs.' Dem Niggers and Kluxers too jus' went hog wild.

"What did Niggers have to buy no land wid, when dey never had no money paid 'em for nothin' 'til atter dey was free? Us jus' stayed on and wukked for Old Marster, 'cause dere warn't no need to leave and go to no other place. I was raised up for a field hand, and I ain't never wukked in no white folks house.

"Me I'se sho' glad Mr. Lincoln sot us free. Iffen it was still slav'ry time now old as I is, I would have to wuk jus' de same, sick or no. Now I don't have to ax nobody what I kin do. Dat's why I'se glad I'se free.

"Now, 'bout my marriage; I was a-living in Putnam County at dat time, and I got married up wid Green Willingham. He had come dar from Jasper County. I didn't have no weddin'. Ma jus' cooked a chicken for us, and I was married in a white dress. De waist had ruffles 'round de neck and sleeves. Us had 17 chilluns in all, seven boys and 10 gals, dere was 19 grandchillun and 21 great grandchillun. Dey ain't all of 'em livin', and my old man, he's done been daid a long time ago."

Henrietta again made her appearance and addressed her mother: "Hush your mouth Ma, for you knows you ain't got all dem chillun. I done told de lady you ain't got your right mind." Frances retorted: "You shut up your mouth, Henrietta. I is so got my right mind, and I knows how many chillun of mine dere was. One thing sho' you is got more mouth dan all de rest of my chillun put together."

The interviewer closed her notebook and took her departure, leaving Frances dozing in her chair.



[HW: Dist-1-2 Ex-slave #114 (Mrs. Stonestreet)]

ADELINE WILLIS—EX-SLAVE [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

Who is the oldest ex-slave in Wilkes County? This question was answered the other day when the quest ended on the sunny porch of a little cottage on Lexington Road in Washington-Wilkes, for there in a straight old-fashioned split-bottom chair sat "Aunt" Adeline Willis basking in the warm October sunshine. She is remarkable for her age—she doesn't know just exactly how old she is, from all she tells and what her "white folks" say she is around a hundred. Her general health is good, she spends her days in the open and tires only on the days she cannot be out in her place in the sun. She has the brightest eyes, her sight is so good she has never had to wear glasses; she gets around in the house and yard on her cane. Her memory is excellent, only a time or two did she slowly shake her head and say apologetically—"Mistress, it's been so long er go, I reckon I done forgot".

From her long association with white people she uses very little Negro dialect and always refers to her Mother as "Mother", never as Ma or Mammy as most Negroes do. This is very noticable.

Her mother was Marina Ragan, "cause she belonged to the Ragans," explained Aunt Adeline, "and she was born on the Ragan Plantation right down on Little River in Greene County" (Georgia). When Marina's "young Mistress" married young Mr. Mose Wright of Oglethorpe County, she took Marina to her new home to be her own servant, and there is where Adeline was born. The place was known as the Wright Plantation and was a very large one.

Adeline doesn't remember her father, and strange to say, she cannot recall how many brothers and sisters she had though she tried hard to name them all. She is sure, however, there were some older and some younger, "I reckon I must er come along about the middle", she said.

After a little while Aunt Adeline was living far back in the past and talked freely—with questions now and then to encourage her reminiscences, she told many interesting things about her life as a slave.

She told about the slaves living in the Quarters—log houses all in a long row near the "white folks' house", and how happy they were. She couldn't remember how many slaves were on the plantation, but was sure there were many: "Yas'm, my Marster had lots of niggers, jest how many, I don't know, but there sho' was a sight of us". They were given their allowance of "rations" every week and cooked their own meals in their cabins. They had good, plain, home-raised things to eat—"and we was glad to get it too. We didn't have no fancy fixings, jest plain food". Their clothes were made by Negro sewing women out of cloth spun and woven right there in the Quarters. All the little dresses were made alike. "When they took a notion to give us striped dresses we sho' was dressed up. I never will forget long as I live, a hickory stripe—(that's what they called stripes in them days)—dress they made me, it had brass buttons at the wrist bands. I was so proud of that dress and felt so dressed up in it I jest strutted er round with it on", and she chuckled over the recollection of that wonderful dress she wore so long ago.

When asked what was the very first thing she remembered, Aunt Adeline gave a rather surprising answer: "The first thing I recollect is my love for my Mother—I loved her so and would cry when I couldn't be with her, and as I growed up I kept on loving her jest that a-way even after I married and had children of my own."

The first work she did was waiting in the house. Before she could read her mistress taught her the letters on the newspapers and what they spelled so she could bring them the papers they wanted. Her mother worked in the field: she drove steers and could do all kinds of farm work and was the best meat cutter on the plantation. She was a good spinner too, and was required to spin a broach of "wool spinning" every night. All the Negro women had to spin, but Aunt Adeline said her mother was specially good in spinning wool and "that kind of spinning was powerful slow". Thinking a moment, she added: "And my mother was one of the best dyers anywhere 'round, and I was too. I did make the most colors by mixing up all kinds of bark and leaves. I recollect the prettiest sort of a lilac color I made with maple bark and pine bark, not the outside pine bark, but that little thin skin that grows right down next to the tree—it was pretty, that color was."

Aunt Adeline thinks they were more fortunate than any other little slaves she knew because their marster had a little store right there where he would give them candy every now and then—bright pretty sticks of candy. She remembers one time he gave them candy in little tin cups, and how proud of those cups they were. He never gave them money, but out of the store they could get what money bought so they were happy. But they had to have whippings, "yas'um, good er bad we got them whippings with a long cowhide kept jest fer that. They whipped us to make us grow better, I reckon".

Although they got whippings a-plenty they were never separated by sale. "No mam, my white folks never believed in selling their niggers", said Aunt Adeline, and related an incident proving this. "I recollect once my oldest brother done something Marster didn't like an' he got mighty mad with him an' said 'Gus, I'm goin' ter sell you, I ain't a-goin' to keep you no longer'. Mistress spoke up right quick and said: 'No you ain't a-goin' to sell Gus, neither, he's nussed and looked after all our oldest chillun, and he's goin' to stay right here'. And that was the last of that, Gus was never sold—he went to war with his young Marster when he went and died up there in the war cause he was homesick, so Marster come back and said."

Aunt Adeline was surprised when asked if the Doctor ever was called in to see her or any of the slaves when they were sick back in slavery days—in fact she was a bit indignant as she answered; "No mam, I was born, growed up, married, had sixteen children and never had no Doctor with me 'til here since I got so old". She went on to say that her white folks looked after their Negroes when they were sick.

They were given tonics and things to keep them well so sickness among them was rare. No "store-bought" medicines, but good old home-made remedies were used. For instance, at the first sniffle they were called in and given a drink of fat lightwood tea, made by pouring boiling water over finely split kindling—"that" explained Aunt Adeline, "was cause lightwood got turpentine in it". In the Springtime there was a mixture of anvil dust (gathered up from around the anvil in the blacksmith's shop) and mixed with syrup, and a teaspoon full given every morning or so to each little piccaninny as they were called up in the "white folks' yard". Sometimes instead of this mixture they were given a dose of garlic and whisky—all to keep them healthy and well.

There was great rejoicing over the birth of a Negro baby and the white folks were called upon to give the little black stranger a name.

Adeline doesn't remember anything about the holidays and how they were spent, not even Christmas and Thanksgiving, but one thing she does remember clearly and that is: "All my white folks was Methodist folks, and they had fast days and no work was done while they was fastin' and prayin'. And we couldn't do no work on Sunday, no mam, everybody had to rest on that day and on preachin' days everybody went to church, white and black to the same church, us niggers set up in the gallery that was built in the white folks' church for us".

There wasn't any time for play because there was so much work to do on a big plantation, but they had good times together even if they did have so much to do.

Before Adeline was grown her "young Mistress," Miss Mary Wright, married Mr. William Turner from Wilkes County, so she came to the Turner Plantation to live, and lived there until several years after the War. Adeline hadn't been in her new home long before Lewis Willis, a young Negro from the adjoining plantation, started coming to see her. "Lewis come to see me any time 'cause his Marster, Mr. Willis, give him a pass so he wasn't scared to be out at night 'count of the Patterollers. They didn't bother a nigger if he had a pass, they sho' did beat him." [HW: ?]

When Adeline was fourteen years old she and Lewis married, or rather it was like this: "We didn't have no preacher when we married, my Marster and Mistess said they didn't care, and Lewis's Master and Mistress said they didn't care, so they all met up at my white folks' house and had us come in and told us they didn't mind our marryin'. My Marster said, 'Now you and Lewis wants to marry and there ain't no objections so go on and jump over the broom stick together and you is married'. That was all there was to it and we was married. I lived on with my white folks and he lived on with his and kept comin' to see me jest like he had done when he was a courtin'. He never brought me any presents 'cause he didn't have no money to buy them with, but he was good to me and that was what counted."

Superstition and signs still have a big place in the life of this woman even after a hundred long years. She has outlived or forgotten many she used to believe in, but still holds fast to those she remembers. If a rooster crows anywhere near your door somebody is coming "and you might as well look for 'em, 'cause that rooster done told you". When a person dies if there is a clock in the room it must be stopped the very minute of death or it will never be any more good—if left ticking it will be ruined. Every dark cloudy day brings death—"Somebody leaving this unfriendly world today". Then she is sure when she "feels sadness" and doesn't know why, it a sign somebody is dying "way off somewhere and we don't know it". Yes, she certainly believes in all the signs she remembers even "to this good day", as she says.

When asked about the war Aunt Adeline said that times were much harder then: "Why we didn't have no salt—jest plain salt, and couldn't get none them days. We had to get up the dirt in the smokehouse where the meat had dripped and 'run it' like lye, to get salt to put on things—yas'm, times was sho' hard and our Marster was off in war all four years and we had to do the best we could. We niggers wouldn't know nothing about it all if it hadn't a been for a little old black, sassy woman in the Quarters that was a talkin' all the time about 'freedom'. She give our white folks lots of trouble—she was so sassy to them, but they didn't sell her and she was set free along with us. When they all come home from the war and Marster called us up and told us we was free, some rejoiced so they shouted, but some didn't, they was sorry. Lewis come a runnin' over there an' wanted me and the chillun to go on over to his white folks' place with him, an' I wouldn't go—No mam, I wouldn't leave my white folks. I told Lewis to go on and let me 'lone, I knowed my white folks and they was good to me, but I didn't know his white folks. So we kept living like we did in slavery, but he come to see me every day. After a few years he finally 'suaded me to go on over to the Willis place and live with him, and his white folks was powerful good to me. After a while, tho' we all went back and lived with my white folks and I worked on for them as long as I was able to work and always felt like I belonged to 'em, and you know, after all this long time, I feel like I am their's."

"Why I live so long, you asking? 'Cause I always been careful and took good care of myself, eat a plenty and stayed out in the good fresh open air and sunshine when I could—and then I had a good husband that took care of me." This last reason for her long life was added as an after thought and since Lewis, her husband, has been dead these forty years maybe those first named causes were the real ones. Be that as it may, Aunt Adeline is a very remarkable old woman and is most interesting to talk with.



FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECTS Augusta-Athens Supervisor: Miss Velma Bell

EXCERPTS FROM SLAVE INTERVIEWS UNCLE WILLIS [Date Stamp: APR 8 1937]

[TR: Also in combined interviews as Willis Bennefield.]

"Uncle Willis" lived with his daughter, Rena, who is 74 years old. "I his baby," said Rena. "All dead but me and I ain't no good for him now, 'cause I kain't tote nothin'."

When asked where her father was, Rena looked out over the blazing cotton field and called:

"Pap! Oh—pappy! Stop pickin' cotton and come in awhile. Dey's some ladies wants to see you."

Uncle Willis hobbled slowly to the cabin, which was set in the middle of the cotton patch. He wore clean blue overalls, obviously new. His small, regular features had high cheekbones. There was a tuft of white hair on his chin, and his head was covered with a "sundown" hat.

"Mawnin," he said. "I bin sick. So I thought I might git some cotton terday."

Willis thinks he is 101 years old. He said: "I was 35 years old when freedom declared." He belonged to a doctor in Burke County, who, Willis at first said, had three or four plantations. Later he stated that the good doctor had five or six places, all in Burke County.

"I wuk in de fiel'," he went on: "and I drove de doctor thirty years. He owned 300 slaves. I never went to school a day in my life, 'cept Sunday school, but I tuk de doctor's sons four miles ev'y day to school. Guess he had so much business in hand he thought de chillun could walk. I used to sit down on de school steps 'till dey turn out. I got way up de alphabet by listenin', but when I went to courtin' I forgot all dat."

Asked what his regular duties were, Willis answered with pride:

"Marster had a ca'yage and a buggy too. My father driv' de doctor. Sometimes I was fixin' to go to bed, and had to hitch up my horse and go five or six mile. I had a regular saddle horse, two pair of horses for ca'yage. Doctor were a rich man. Richest man in Burke County. He made his money on his farm. When summertime come, I went wid him to Bath, wheh he had a house on Tena Hill. We driv' down in de ca'yage. Sundays we went to church when Dr. Goulding preach. De darkies went in de side do'. I hear him preach many times."

Asked about living conditions on the plantation, Willis replied:

"De big house was set in a half acre yard. 'Bout fifty yards on one side was my house, and fifty yards on de yudder side was de house o' Granny, a woman what tended de chillun and had charge o'de yard when we went to Bath." Willis gestured behind him. "Back yonder was de quarters, half a mile long; dey wuz one room 'crost, and some had shed room. When any of 'em got sick, Marster would go round to see 'em all."

As to church, Willis said:

"I belongst to Hopeful Church. Church people would have singin' and prayin' and de wicked people would have dancin' and singin'." Willis chuckled. "At dat time I wuz a regular dancer! I cut de pigeon wing high enough! Not many cullud peoples know de Bible in slavery time. We had dances, and prayers, and sing, too. We sang a song, 'On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, and cast a wishful eye.'"

"How about marriages?" Willis was asked.

"Colored preacher marry 'em. You had to get license and give it to de preacher and he marry 'em. When de men on our plantation had wives on udder plantations, dey call 'em broad wives."

"Did you give your wife presents when you were courting?" he was asked.

"I went to courtin' and never give her nuthin' till I marry her."

As to punishments, Willis said that slaves were whipped as they needed it, and as a general rule the overseer did the whipping.

"When derky wouldn't take whippin' from de overseer," he said, "he had to ca'y dem to de boss; and if we needed any brushin' de marster brush 'em. Why, de darkies would whip de overseer!"

Willis was asked to describe how slaves earned money for personal use, and replied:

"Dey made dey own money. In slavery time, if you wanted four-five acre of land to plant you anything on, marster give it to you and whatever dat land make, it belong to you. You could take dat money and spend it any way you wanted. Still he give you somethin' to eat and clothe you, but dat patch you mek cotton on, sometimes a whole bale, dat money yours."

Willis thought the plantation house was still there, "but it badly wounded," he said. "Dey tell me dere ain't nobuddy living in it now. It south of Waynesboro."

"When de soldiers come thoo'," continued Willis, "dey didn't burn dat place, but dey went in dere and took out ev'yting dey want and give it to de cullud people. Dey kep' it till dey got free. De soldiers tuk de doctor's horses and ca'y 'em off. Got in de crib and tek de corn. Got in de smoke 'ouse and tek de meat out. Old Marssa bury his money and silver in an iron chist. Dey tuk it 300 yards away to a clump o' trees and bury it. It tuk fo' men to ca'y it. Dere was money widout mention in dat chist! After de soldiers pass thoo' dey went down and got it back."

"What did you do after freedom was declared?"

Willis straightened up.

"I went down to Augusta to de Freedman's Bureau to see if twas true we wuz free. I reckon dere was over a hundred people dere. De man got up and stated to de people: 'You all is jus' as free as I am. You ain't got no mistis and no marster. Work when you want.' On Sunday morning Old Marster sont de house gal and tell us to all come to de house. He said:

'What I want to send for you all is to tell you dat you are free. You hab de privilege to go anywheh you want, but I don't want none o' you to leave me now. I wants you-all to stay right wid me. If you stay, you mus' sign to it.'

I asked him:

'What you want me to sign for? I is free.'

'Dat will hold me to my word and hold you to yo' word,' he say.

"All my folks sign it, but I wouldn't sign. Marster call me up and say: 'Willis, why wouldn't you sign?' I say: 'If I is already free, I don't need to sign no paper. If I was workin' for you and doin' for you befo' I got free, I kin do it still, if you wants me to stay wid you.'

"My father and mother tried to git me to sign, but I wouldn't sign. My mother said: 'You oughter sign. How you know Marster gwine pay?' I say: 'Den I kin go somewheh else.'

"Marster pay first class hands $15.00 a month, other hands $10.00, and den on down to five and six dollars. He give rations like dey always have. When Christmus' come, all come up to be paid off. Den he calls me. Ask whar is me? I was standin' roun' de corner of de house. 'Come up here, Willis,' he say. 'You didn't sign dat paper but I reckon I hab to pay you too.' He paid me and my wife $180.00. I said: 'Well, you-all thought he wouldn't pay me, but I got my money too.'

"I stayed to my marster's place one year after de war, den I lef' dere. Nex' year I decided I would quit dere and go somewheh else. It was on account o' my wife. You see, Marster bought her off, as de highes' bidder, down in Waynesboro, and she ain't seen her mother and father for fifteen years. When she got free, she went down to see 'em. Waren't willin' to come back. T'was on account o' Mistis and her. Dey bofe had chilluns, five-six year old. De chilluns had disagreement. Mistis slap my gal. My wife sass de Mistis. But my marster, he wuz as good a man as ever born. I wouldn't have lef' him for nobody, just on account of his wife and her fell out."

"What did your master say when you told him you were going to leave? Was he sorry?"

"I quit and goes over three miles to another widow lady's house, and mek bargain wid her," said Willis. "I pass right by de do'. Old boss sittin' on de pi—za. He say: 'Hey, boy, wheh you gwine?' I say: 'I 'cided to go.' I wuz de fo'man' o' de plow-han' den. I saw to all de looking up, and things like dat. He say: 'Hold on dere.' He come out to de gate. 'tell you what I give you to stay on here. I give you five acre of as good land as I got, and $30.00 a month, to stay here and see to my bizness.'"

Willis paused a moment, thinking back on that long distant parting.

"I say," he went on, "'I can't, marster. It don't suit my wife 'round here. She won't come back. I can't stay.'

"He turn on me den, and busted out crying. 'I didn't tho't I could raise up a darky dat would talk dat-a-way,' he said. Well, I went on off. I got de wagon and come by de house. Marster say: 'Now, you gwine off but don't forget me, boy. Remember me as you always done.' I said: 'All right.'"

Willis chewed his tobacco reflectively for a few minutes, spat into the rosemary bush and resumed his story.

"I went over to dat widow lady's house and work. Along about May I got sick. She say: 'I going send for de doctor.' I say: 'Please ma'am, don't do dat.' (I thought maybe he kill me 'cause I lef' him.) She say: 'Well, I gwine send fo' him.' I in desprut condition. When I know anything, he walk up in de do'. I was laying' wid my face toward de do', and I turn over.

"Doctor come up to de bed. 'Boy, how you gettin' on?' 'I bad off,' I say. He say: 'see you is. Yeh.' Lady say: 'Doctor, whut you think of him?' Doctor say: 'Mistis, it mos' too late, but I do all I kin.' She say: 'Please do all you kin, he 'bout de bes' han' I got.'

"Doctor fix up med'cine and tole her to give it to me.

"She say: 'Uncle Will, tek dis med'cine. I 'fraid to tek it. 'Fraid he wuz tryin' to kill me. Den two men, John and Charlie, come in. Lady say: 'Get dis med'cine in Uncle Will.' One o' de men hold my hand and dey gag me and put it in me. Nex' few days I kin talk and ax for somethin' to eat so I git better. (I say: "Well, he didn't kill me when I tuk de med'cine!')

"I stayed dere wid her," continued Willis. "Nex' year I move right back in two miles, other side wheh I always live, wid anudder lady. I stay dere three year. Got along all right. When I lef' from there, I lef' dere wid $300.00 and plenty corn and hog. Everything I want, and three hundred cash dollars in my pocket!"

It was plain that in his present status of relief ward, Uncle Willis looked back on that sum of money as a small fortune. He thought about it awhile, spat again, and went on:

"Fourth year I lef and went down to anudder place near de Creek. I stay dere 33 years in dat one place."

"Uncle Willis, did you ever see the doctor again?"

"He die 'fore I know it," he replied. "I was 'bout fifteen miles from him, and by de time I year o' his death, he bury on plantation near de creek."

Willis was asked about superstitions and answered with great seriousness:

"Eve'ybuddy in de worl' hab got a sperrit what follow 'em roun' and dey kin see diffrunt things. In my sleep I hab vision."

"Pappy, tell de ladies 'bout de hant," urged Aunt Rena from her post in the doorway, and Willis took up the story with eagerness:

"One night I was gwine to a lady's store, ridin' a horse. De graveyard was 100 yards from de road I wuz passin'. De moon was shinin' bright as day. I saw somethin' comin' out of dat graveyard. It come across de road, right befo' me. His tail were draggin' on de ground—a long tail. He had hair on both sides of him, layin' down on de road. He crep' up. I pull de horse dis way. He move too. I yell out: 'What in de name o' God is dat?' And it turn right straight around and went back to de graveyard. I went on to de lady's house and done my shoppin'. I tell you I wuz skeered, 'cause I was sho' I would see it going back, but I never saw it. De horse was turrible skeered of it. It looked like a Maryno sheep and it had a long, swishy tail."

Uncle Willis was asked if he had ever seen a person "conjured" and he answered:

"Dey is people in de worl' got sense enough to kill out de conjur in anybuddy, but nobuddy ever conjur me. I year 'um say, if a person conjur you, you'll git somethin' in you dat would kill you."

Asked to what he attributed his long, healthy life, Willis raised his head with a preaching look and replied:

"I tell you, Missis, 'zactly what I believe, I bin tryin' to serve God ever since I come to be a man of family. I bin tryin' to serve de Lawd 79 years, and I live by precept of de word. Until today nobuddy can turn me away from God business. I am a man studying my gospel, I ain't able to go to church, but I still keep serving God."

[TR: Return visit]

A week later Uncle Willis was found standing in his cabin door.

"Do you want to ride to the old plantation to-day?" he was asked. His vitality was almost too low for him to grasp the invitation.

"I'se mighty weak to-day," he said in a feeble voice. "I don't feel good for much."

"Where is Aunt Rena?" he was asked. "Do you think she would mind your taking an automobile trip?"

"She gone to town on de bus, to see de Fambly Welfare."

"Have you had breakfast?"

"I had some coffee, but I ain't eat none."

"Well, come on, Uncle Willis. We'll get you some breakfast and then we'll take you to the plantation and take your picture in the place where you were born, 101 years ago."

Uncle Willis appeared to be somewhat in a daze as he padlocked the cabin door, put on his "sundown" hat, took up his stout stick and tottered down the steps. He wore a frayed sweater with several layers of shirts showing at the cuffs. On the way he recalled the first railroad train that passed through Burke County.

"I kinder skeered," he recollected. "We wuz all 'mazed to see dat train flying' long 'thout any horses. De people wuz all afraid."

"Had you heard of airplanes before you saw one, Uncle Willis?"

"Yes, ma'am. I yeared o' dem but you couldn't gimme dis car full o' money to fly. Dey's too high off de ground. I never is gwine in one!"

Uncle Willis was deposited on the porch of one of the remaining slave cabins to eat his "breakkus," while his kidnapers sought over hill and field for "The big house," but only two cabins and the chimney foundations of a large burned dwelling rewarded the search.

The old ex-slave was posed in front of the cabin, to one side of the clay and brick chimney, and took great pleasure in the ceremony, rearing his head up straight so that his white beard stuck out.

The brutal reality of finding the glories of the plantation forever vanished must have been a severe blow for the old man. Several times on the way back he wiped tears from his eyes. Once again at his cabin in the cottonfield, his vitality reasserted itself, and he greeted his curious dusky neighbors with the proud statement.

"Dey tuk me when I was bred and born! I ain't ax no better time!"

Willis' farewell words were:

"Goo'bye! I hopes you all gits to Paradise!"



[HW: Dist 1-2 Ex-Slave #116]

EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW

CORNELIA WINFIELD, Age 82 Richmond County 1341 Ninth Street Augusta, Georgia

BY: (Mrs.) Margaret Johnson—Editor Federal Writers' Project Augusta, Georgia [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

Cornelia Winfield, 1341 Ninth Street, was born in Crawford, Oglethorpe County, Georgia March 10, 1855. Her father, being the same age as her master, was given to him as a little boy. They grew up together, playing games, and becoming devoted to each other. When her master was married her father went to his home with him and became the overseer of all the slaves on the plantation. "My father and mother wuz house servants. My marster served my father's plate from his own table and sent it to him, every meal. He had charge of the work shop, and when marster was away he always stayed at the Big House, to take care of my Missis and the children. My mother was a seamstress and had three younger seamsters under her, that she taught to sew. We made the clothes for all the house servants and fiel' hans. My mother made some of the clothes for my marster and missis. My mother was a midwife too, and useter go to all the birthings on our place. She had a bag she always carried and when she went to other plantations she had a horse and buggy to go in.

"All the slaves on our place wuz treated well. I never heard of any of 'em bein' whipped. I was ten years old when freedom come, and I always knowed I wuz to belong to one of marster's daughters. After freedom my father and mother worked on just the same for marster. When my father died, marster's fam'ly wanted him buried in the fam'ly lot but I wanted him to lie by my mother."

Cornelia's husband was a Methodist preacher, and she lived with him to celebrate their Golden Wedding. During the last years of his life they lived in Augusta. For sixteen years she washed all the blankets for the Fire Department, and did some of the washing for the firemen. Cornelia is now 82 years of age, but her memory is good and her mind active; and she is extremely loquacious. She is quite heavy, and crippled, having to use a crutch when she walks. Her room was clean, but over-crowded with furniture, every piece of which has recently been painted. Of the wardrobe in her room Cornelia told the following story. "All the planks eny of our family was laid out on, my father kep'. When he came to Augusta he brought all these planks and made this here wardrobe. When the fire burnt me out, this here wardrobe was the only thing in my house that was saved."

During the past summer she put up quantities of preserves, pickles and canned fruits. These she sells in a little shop-room adjoining her house, and when the weather permits, on the steps of the Post Office.

Cornelia can read, and spends much of time reading the Bible but she learned to read after "Freedom." She is greatly interested to tell of the "best families" she has worked for and the gifts she has received from them.



[HW: Dist. 5 Ex-Slave #117] E. Driskell Whitley 1-20-37

GEORGE WOMBLE EX-SLAVE [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

One of the relics of Slavery is George Womble. From all appearances Mr. Womble looks to be fifty-three years of age instead of the ripe old age of ninety-three that he claims. He is about five and one-half or six feet in height, weighs one-hundred and seventy-five pounds or more, and has good sight and hearing in addition to a skin that is almost devoid of any wrinkle. Besides all of this he is a clear thinker and has a good sense of humor. Following is an account of the experiences of Mr. Womble as a slave and of the conditions in general on the plantations where he lived:

"I was born in the year of 1843 near the present site of what is now known as Clinton, Georgia. The names of my parents were Patsy and Raleigh Ridley. I never saw my father as he was sold before I was old enough to recognize him as being my father. I was still quite young when my mother was sold to a plantation owner who lived in New Orleans, La. As she was being put on the wagon to be taken away I heard her say: "Let me see my poor child one more time because I know I'll never see him again". That was the last I ever saw or heard of her. As I had no brothers or sisters or any other relatives to care for me my master, who was Mr. Robert Ridley, had me placed in his house where I was taught to wait tables and to do all kinds of house work. Mr. Ridley had a very large plantation and he raised cotton, corn, oats, wheat, peas, and live stock. Horses and mules were his specialty—I remember that he had one little boy whose job was to break these animals so that they could be easily sold. My job was to wait tables, help with the house cleaning, and to act as nurse maid to three young children belonging to the master. At other times I drove the cows to and from the pasture and I often helped with the planting in the fields when the field hands were rushed. Out of the forty-odd slaves that were held by the Ridleys all worked in the field with the exception of myself and the cook whose name was Harriet Ridley." Continuing, Mr. Womble says: "I believe that Mr. Ridley was one of the meanest men that ever lived. Sometimes he whipped us, especially us boys, just to give himself a little fun. He would tie us in such a way as to cause our bodies to form an angle and then he preceeded to use the whip. When he had finished he would ask: "Who do you belong to?" and we had to answer; "Marse Robert". At other times he would throw us in a large tank that held about two-thousand gallons of water. He then stood back and laughed while we struggled to keep from drowning."

"When Marse Robert died I was still a small boy. Several months after his death Mrs. Ridley gave the plantation up and took her share of the slaves (ten in number) of which I was one, and moved to Tolbert County, Georgia near the present location of Talbottom, Georgia. The other slaves and the plantation were turned over to Marse Robert's relatives. After a few months stay in this place I was sold to Mrs. Ridley's brother, Enoch Womble. On the day that I was sold three doctors examined me and I heard one of them say: "This is a thoroughbred boy. His teeth are good and he has good muscles and eyes. He'll live a long time." Then Mr. Womble said: "He looks intelligent too. I think I'll take him and make a blacksmith out of him." And so to close the deal he paid his sister five-hundred dollars for me."

According to Mr. Womble his new master was even meaner than the deceased Mr. Ridley. He was likewise a plantation owner and a farmer and as such he raised the same things that Mr. Ridley did with the exception of the horses and the mules. In all there were about five-hundred acres to the plantation. There were six children in the Womble family in addition to Mr. Womble and his wife, and they all lived in a large one-storied frame house. A large hickory tree grew through the center of the porch where a hole had been cut out for its growth.

Mr. Womble says that his reputation of being an excellent house boy had preceded him, and so here too he was put to work in the master's house where he helped with the cooking, washed the dishes, cleaned the house, and also acted as nurse for the younger white children. In addition to this, he was also required to attend to the cows. He remembers how on one night at a very late hour he was called by the master to go and drive the cows from the pasture as the sleet and snow might do them more harm than good. He was so cold that on the way back from the pasture he stopped at the pig pens where he pushed one or two of them out of the spots where they had lain so that he could squat there, and warm his feet in the places left warm by their bodies. To add to his discomfort the snow and sleet froze in his long hair and this made him even more miserable than ever.

Mr. Womble was asked to tell what time he had to arise in the morning to be at his day's work, and he replied that sometimes he didn't even go to sleep as he had to keep one hand on the baby crib to keep it from crying. Most of the time he got up at four o'clock in the morning, and went to the kitchen where he helped the cook prepare breakfast. After this was done, and he had finished waiting on the master and his family he started to clean the house. When he had finished this, he had to take care of the younger Womble children, and do countless the other things to be done around a house. Of the other slaves, Mr. Womble says: "None of them ever suffered from that disease known as "mattress fever". They all got up long before day, and prepared their breakfasts and then before it was light enough to see clearly they were standing in the field holding their hoes and other implements—afraid to start work for fear that they would cover the cotton plants with dirt because they could'nt see clearly due to the darkness." An overseer was hired by the master to see that the work was done properly. If any of the slaves were careless about their work they were made to take off their clothes in the field before all the rest and then a sound whipping was administered. Field hands also get whippings when they failed to pick the required three-hundred pounds of cotton daily. To avoid a whipping for this they sprinkled the white sand of the fields on the dew soaked cotton and at the time it was weighed they were credited with more pounds than they had actually picked. Around ten or eleven o'clock in the morning they were all allowed to go to the cook house where they were given dinner by the plantation cook. By one o'clock they were all back in the field where they remained until it was too dark to see clearly, and then they were dismissed by the overseer after he had checked the number of pounds of cotton that they had picked.

The slaves knew that whenever Mr. Womble hired a new overseer he always told the prospect that if he could'nt handle the slaves his services would not be needed. The cook had heard the master tell a prospective overseer this and so whenever a new one was hired the slaves were quick to see how far they could go with him. Mr. Womble says that an overseer had to be a very capable man in order to keep his job as overseer on the Womble plantation because if the slaves found out that he was afraid of them fighting him (and they did sometimes) they took advantage of him so much so that the production dropped and the overseer either found himself trying to explain to his employer or else looking for another job. The master would never punish a slave for beating an overseer with his fists stated Mr. Womble.

During rainy weather the slaves shucked corn, piled manure in the barns, and made cloth. In the winter season the men split rails, built fences, and dug ditches, while the women did the weaving and the making of cloth. These slaves who were too old to work in the fields remained at home where they nursed the sick slaves (when there was sickness) and attended to the needs of those children who were too young for field work. Those children who were still being fed from their mother's breasts were also under the care of one of these old persons. However, in this case the mothers were permitted to leave the field twice a day (once between breakfast and dinner and once between dinner and supper) so that these children could be fed.

At times Mr. Womble hired some of his slaves out to work by the day for some of the other nearby plantation owners. Mr. Geo. Womble says that he was often hired out to the other white ladies of the community to take care of their children and to do their housework. Because of his ability to clean a house and to handle children he was in constant demand.

The men worked every day in the week while the women were given Saturday afternoon off so that they might do their personal work such as the washing and the repairing of their clothing etc. The women were required to do the washing and the repairing of the single men's clothing in addition to their own. No night work was required of any of them except during the winter when they were given three cuts of thread to card, reel, and spin each night.

There were some days when the master called them all to his back yard and told them that they could have a frolic. While they danced and sang the master and his family sat and looked on. On days like the Fourth of July and Christmas in addition to the frolic barbecue was served and says Mr. Womble: "It was right funny to see all of them dancing around the yard with a piece of meat in one hand and a piece of bread in the other.

Mr. Womble stated further that clothes were given to all the slaves once a year. An issue for the men usually consisted of one or two pairs of pants and some shirts, underwear, woolen socks, and a pair of heavy brogans that had been made of horse hide. These shoes were reddish in appearance and were as stiff as board according to Mr. Womble. For special wear the men were given a garment that was made into one piece by sewing the pants and shirt together. This was known as a "roundabout". The women were given one or two dresses that had been made of the same material as that of the men's pants. As the cloth that these clothes were made of was very coarse and heavy most of them lasted until the time for the next issue. None of the clothing that the slaves wore was bought. After the cloth had been made by the slaves who did all the spinning and the weaving the master's wife cut the clothes out while the slave women did the sewing. One of the men was a cobbler and it was he who made all of the shoes for slave use. In the summer months the field hands worked in their bare feet regardless of whether they had shoes or not. Mr. Womble says that he was fifteen years of age when he was given his first pair of shoes. They were a pair of red boots and were so stiff that he needed help to get them on his feet as well as to get them off. Once when the master had suffered some few financial losses the slaves had to wear clothes that were made of crocus material. The children wore sacks after holes had been cut out for their heads and arms. This garment looked like a slightly lengthened shirt in appearance. A dye made from red clay was used to give color to these clothes.

The bed clothing consisted of bagging sacks and quilts that were made out of old clothes.

At the end of the week all the field hands met in the master's backyard where they were given a certain amount of food which was supposedly enough to last for a week. Such an issue was made up of three pounds of fat meat, one peck of meal, and one quart of black molasses. Mr. Womble was asked what the slaves did if their allowance of food ran out before the end of the week, and he replied in the following manner: "If their food gave out before the time for another issue they waited until night and then one or two of them would go to the mill-house where the flour and the meal was kept. After they had succeeded in getting in they would take an auger and bore a hole in the barrel containing the meal. One held the sack while the other took a stick and worked it around in the opening made by the auger so as to make the meal flow freely. After their bags were filled the hole was stopped up, and a hasty departure was made. Sometimes when they wanted meat they either went to the smoke house and stole a ham or else they would go to the pen where the pigs were kept and take a small pig out. When they got to the woods with this animal they proceeded to skin and clean it (it had already been killed with a blow in the head before they left the pen). All the parts that they did not want were either buried or thrown in the nearby river. After going home all of this meat was cooked and hidden. As there was danger in being caught none of this stolen meat was ever fried because there was more danger of the odor of frying meat going farther away than that odor made by meat being boiled." At this point Mr. Womble stated that the slaves were taught to steal by their masters. Sometimes they were sent to the nearby plantations to steal chickens, pigs, and other things that could be carried away easily. At such times the master would tell them that he was not going to mistreat them and that he was not going to allow anyone else to mistreat them and that by taking the above mentioned things they were helping him to be more able to take care of them.

At breakfast the field hands ate fried meat, corn bread, and molasses. When they went to the house for dinner they were given some kind of vegetable along with pot liquor and milk. When the days work was done and it was time for the evening meal there was the fried meat again with the molasses and the corn bread. Mr. Womble says that they ate this kind of food every day in the week. The only variation was on Sunday when they were given the seconds of the flour and a little more molasses so that they might make a cake. No other sweetening was used except the molasses.

As for Mr. Womble and the cook they fared better as they ate the same kind of food that the master and his family did. He remembers how he used to take biscuits from the dishes that were being sent to the masters table. He was the waiter and this was an easy matter. Later he took some of these biscuits and sold them to the other little boys for a nickle each. Neither the master or the slaves had real coffee. They all drank a type of this beverage that had been made by parching bran or meal and then boiled in water.

The younger children were fed from a trough that was twenty feet in length. At meal time each day the master would come out and supervise the cook whose duty it was to fill the trough with food. For breakfast the milk and bread was all mixed together in the trough by the master who used his walking cane to stir it with. At dinner and supper the children were fed pot liquor and bread and sometimes milk that had been mixed together in the same manner. All stood back until the master had finished stirring the food and then at a given signal they dashed to the trough where they began eating with their hands. Some even put their mouths in the trough and ate. There were times when the master's dogs and some of the pigs that ran round the yard all came to the trough to share these meals. Mr. Womble states that they were not permitted to strike any of these animals so as to drive them away and so they protected their faces from the tongues of the intruders by placing their hands on the sides of their faces as they ate. During the meal the master walked from one end of the trough to the other to see that all was as it should be. Before Mr. Womble started to work in the master's house he ate as the other children for a short time. Some of the times he did not have enough food to eat and so when the time came to feed the cows he took a part of their food (a mixture of cotton seed, collard stalks, and small ears of corn) and ate it when night came. When he started working in the house regularly he always had sufficient food from then on.

All the food that was eaten was grown on the plantation in the master's gardens. He did not permit the slaves to have a garden of their own neither could they raise their own chickens and so the only time that they got the chance to enjoy the eating of chicken was when they decided to make a special trip to the master's poultry yard.

The housing facilities varied with the work a slave was engaged in on the Womble plantation according to Mr. Womble. He slept in the house under the dining-room table all of the time. The cook also slept in the house of her owner. For those who worked on the fields log cabins (some distance behind the master's house.) were provide [sic]. Asked to describe one of these cabins Mr. Womble replied: "They were two roomed buildings made out of logs and daubed with mud to keep the weather out. At one end there was a chimney that was made out of dried mud, sticks and stones. The fireplace was about five or six feet in length and on the inside of it there were some hooks to hang the pots from when there was cooking to be done.

"There was only one door and this was the front one. They would'nt put a back door in a cabin because it would be easy for a slave to slip out of the back way if the master or the overseer came to punish an occupant. There were one or two small openings cut in the back so that they could get air."

"The furniture was made by the blacksmith", continued Mr. Womble. "In one corner of the room there was a large bed that had been made out of heavy wood. Rope that ran from side to side served as the springs while the mattress was a large bag that had been stuffed with wheat straw. The only other furnishings were a few cooking utensils and one or two benches." As many as four families lived in one of these cabins although the usual number to a cabin was three families. There was one other house where the young children were kept while their parents worked in the fields.