"I went to school in Raleigh and taught school in Ft. Payne, Alabama. My husband was a carpenter and went there where he could get good wages. Slavery was a very bad thing. Abraham Lincoln was one of the best men that ever lived.

"Roosevelt is just grand. He is no doubt one of the greatest men of any age. I love to look at his picture. I love him because he has done so much for humanity. I pray to the Lord to let him live to serve his country, and help his people."

LE



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 2036 Subject: PARKER POOL Person Interviewed: Parker Pool Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



PARKER POOL

"Good Morning, how is yer? Dat front door am locked Mister, but I'll come 'round and undo it."

"I'm not feeling ve'y well an' it looks lak dey'll rob me out'n all I got. Dey had a mortgage on my home fer $850. I paid it, an' den dey got to gamblin' on it, an' tuk it. I didn't git de right receipts, when I paid: dat's de truf. I got a farm loan on de house part, yes sir, an' I still has it.

"I wuz born near Garner, Wake County, North Carolina. I belonged to Aufy Pool. He wuz a slave owner. His plantation wuz near Garner. I am 91 years old. I wuz born August 10, that's what my grandmammie tole me, an' I ain't never fergot it.

"My missus name wuz Betsy. My fust master, I had two, wuz Master Aufy Pool. Den he give us to his son, er his son bought us in at de sale when Master Aufy died. After Master Aufy died, his son, Louis Pool wuz my master den, an' his plantation wuz in Johnston County. My mother wuz named Violet Pool. She died in child-birth two years atter I wuz born. My father wuz named Peter Turner. He belonged to John Turner in Johnston County, right near Clayton.

"My grandfather, I had two grandfathers, one on my mother's side and one on my father's side. On my mother's side Tom Pool, on my father's side Jerry Beddingfield. I never seed my great-grandparents, but my great-grandfather wuz name Buck. He wuz right out o' Africa. His wife wuz name Hagar. I never have seen dem, but my grandmother wuz deir daughter. Dey had three chillun here in America. My grandmammie and grandfather told me this. My brothers were name, oldest one, Haywood, den Lem, an' Peter, an' me, Parker Pool. De girls, oldest girl wuz Minerva Rilla.

"I had good owners. My missus and master dey took jes as good keer o' me as they could. Dey wuz good to all de han's. Dey giv' us plenty to eat, an' we had plenty o' clothes, sich as they wuz, but de wuz no sich clothes as we have now. Dey treated us good, I will have to say dat. Dey are dead in their graves, but I will have to say dis fer 'em. Our houses were in de grove. We called master's house 'de great house'. We called our homes 'de houses'. We had good places ter sleep.

"We got up at light. I had to do most o' the nursin' o' de chillun, case when choppin' time come de women had to go to work. We had plenty ter eat, an' we et it. Our some'in to eat wuz well fixed an' cooked. We caught a lot o' 'possums, coons an' other game, but I tell yer a coon is a lot harder to ketch den a possum. We had one garden, an' de colored people tended the garden, an' we all et out'n it.

"Dere wuz about 2000 acres in de plantation. All de farm lan' wuz fenced in wid wood rails. De hogs, cows an' stock wuz turned out in de woods, an' let go. The cows wuz drived home at night, dat is if dey didn't come up. Dat is so we could milk de ones we wanted ter milk.

"We dug ditches to drain de lan', blin' ditches; we dug 'em an' den put poles on top, an' covered 'em wid brush an' dirt. We put de brush on de poles to keep de dirt from runnin' through. Den we ploughed over de ditches.

"We tanned our leather in a tan trough. We used white oak bark an' red oak bark. Dey put copperas in it too, I think.

"I knows how to raise flax. You grow it an' when it is grown you pull it clean up out of de groun' till it kinder rots. Dey have what dey called a brake, den it wuz broke up in dat. De bark wuz de flax. Dey had a stick called a swingle stick, made kinder like a sword. Dey used dis to knock de sticks out o' de flax. Dey would den put de flax on a hackle, a board wid a lot of pegs in it. Den dey clean an' string it out till it looks lak your hair. Dey flax when it came from de hackles wuz ready for de wheel whur it wuz spun into thread. I tell you, you couldn't break it either.

"When it wuz spun into thread dey put it on a reel. It turned 100 times and struck, when it struck it wuz called a cut. When it come from de wheel it wuz called a broach. De cuts stood fer so much flax. So many cuts made a yard, but dere wuz more ter do, size it, and hank it before it wuz weaved. Most of the white people had flax clothes.

"We had no church on de plantation. We had prayer meetin' an' candy pullin's, an' we would ask slaves from udder plantations. My master had no public corn shuckin's. His slaves shucked his corn. He had about 50 head. De slaves dey went to de white folks church. Dey had a place separate from de white folks by a railin'. We could look at de preacher an' hear him preach too.

"No, sirree, dey wouldn't let us have no books. Dey would not let none o' de chilluns tell us anything about a book. I cain't read an' write, not a bit. Dey preached ter us to obey our master. Preacher John Ellington wuz my favorite preacher. No nigger wuz allowed ter preach. Dey wuz allowed ter pray and shout sometimes, but dey better not be ketched wid a book. De songs dat dey sung den, dey hardly ever sing 'em now. Dey were de good ole songs. 'Hark from de tomb de doleful sound'. 'My years are tender,' 'Cry, You livin' man,' 'Come view dis groun' where we must shortly lie'.

"No one ran away from our plantation, but dey did from some other plantations. When some o' de niggers were carried by their masters to wait on 'em as servants up no'th, some o' de other people would see how dey were treated an' git 'em to run away. When dere master started home dey couldn't find 'em. Dey took and educated 'em and made women an' men out'en 'em.

"We visited at night during slavery time. De men went courtin'. When a man, a slave, loved a 'oman on another plantation dey axed der master, sometimes de master would ax de other master. If dey agreed all de slave man an' 'oman had ter de [HW: do] Sa'dy night wuz fer him to come over an' dey would go to bed together. Dere wuz no marriage—until atter de surrender. All who wanted to keep de same 'oman atter de surrender had to pay 25c fer er marriage license, den $1.50, den $3.00. If de magistrate married you, you didn't have to pay anything, less he charged you.

"We got de holidays, Christmas, and atter lay-by-time o' de crops. Dey had big dinners den. Dey had big tables set in de yard, de rations wuz spread on 'em, an' everybody et. We had brandy at Christmas.

"I have been whupped twice, an' I have seen slaves whupped. Ha! Ha! missus whupped me. She wouldn't let nobody else whup me neither. I 'members what it wuz about as if it wuz yesterday. She wuz fretted 'bout de cook. We wuz skinnin' i'sh taters. She tole us to make haste, if we didn't make haste an' peel de taters she would whack us down. I laughed, she sent me to git a switch. She hit me on de legs. When we were whupped we would say, 'oh! pray,' and dey would quit. If you acted stubborn dey would whup you more. She axed me, 'ain't you gwine ter say 'oh! pray?' I wuz mad. She wuz not hurtin' me much, an' I wouldn't say nuthin'. Atter awhile I said, 'oh! pray', an' she quit. I had good owners all o' dem. My masters never did hit me. Missus would not whup me much. She jes wanted ter show off sometimes.

"We had good doctors when we got sick. I 'members Dr. James o' Clayton comin' to our house. Dey carried dere pills an' medicine den, an' lef' it at de house fer you.

"My master had a son in de war, Walter Pool. He wuz a footso'dier at first. He got sick an' he come home sick on er furlough. He hired er man to go in his place at first, den de man went. Atter awhile de men got so skurce, he had to go agin; den he got de chance to go in de cavalry. Ole master bought him a horse, an' he could ride nex' time. He belonged to the 1st. Ga. Reg. 2nd Cavalry Gen. Dange's Brigade, C. Co. N.C. Volunteers.

"I saw de Confederates' General Johnson come through Clayton, an' de Yankees come de 2nd [HW: second] day atter dey come through. I think I seed enough Yankees come through dere to whup anything on God's earth. De Yankees camped three miles from our plantation at Mrs. Widow Sarah Saunders across White Oak Creek on de Averysboro road. Her son, Capt. Ed. Saunders wuz in de Confederate Army. She wuz a big slave owner. She had about 100 slaves. She wuz called a rich 'oman.

"De Yankees played songs o' walkin' de streets of Baltimore an' walkin' in Maryland. Dey really played it. Dey slaughtered cows and sometimes only et de liver. I went to de camp atter dey lef' an' it wuz de awfulest stink I ever smelt in my life. Dey lef' dem cows part o' 'em lying whur dey were in de camp. Dey killed geese an' chickens, an' skinned 'em. Sometimes dey skinned de hind quarters uv a cow, cut 'em off an' lef' de res'.

"When dey tole me I wuz free I didn't notice it, I stayed on and worked jest lak I had been doin', right on wid missus and master. I stayed dere a year atter de surrender.

"I dunno what ter think o' Abraham Lincoln. Dey said he wuz all right. I guess he wuz a man God loved, er all right man. I think some o' de slaves wuz better off when dey had owners and wuz in slavery den dey is now. De colored people are slaves now more den dey wuz den. I can show you wherein de nigger's got all his expenses ter bear now. He gits his pay out'en de white man and de white man don't pay him much. De nigger in de South is jest as much a slave as ever. De nigger now is a better slave den when dey owned him, 'cause he has his own expenses to bear. If you works a horse an' doan have him ter feed, you is better off, dan if you had ter feed and care fer him. Dat is de way dat thing is now.

"I seed many patterollers durin' slavery. If dey caught you out at night without a pass dey would whup you.

"I think Mr. Roosevelt is a mighty nice man. He has done me a lot o' good. No man can make times real good till everybody is put to work. Wid de lan' lyin' out dere can't be real good times. Dis is my 'lustration. My horse died las' year. I ain't got no money ter buy nother and can't git one. You see dat lan' lyin' out dere I have farmed it every year fer a long time. Through part o' de year I always had vegetables and sich ter sell, but now my horse is dead an' I can't farm no more. I ain't got nothin' ter sell. I is bad out o' heart. I shore hope sumpin' will be done fer me."



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 779 Subject: RENA RAINES Person Interviewed: Rena Raines Editor: G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 17 1937]



RENA RAINES

"I wus three years ole when de Yankees come through. I do not 'member much 'bout slavery, but I knows a lot my mother tole me.

"My mother wus named Vicey Rogers an' my father wus named Bob Hunter. He 'longed ter de Hunters of Wake County an' mother longed ter Marster John Rogers. Her missus' name wus Ann Rogers. I 'members my grandfather on my mother's side but do not 'member any more of my grandparents.

"Marse John Rogers wus a ole batchelor before he wus married an' he had 'bout twelve slaves when he married Mis' Ann Hunter. She owned one slave, a colored boy, when she wus married. Her father gave her the slave. The plantation wus between Apex an' Holly Springs in Wake County. All my people lived in Wake County an' I wus born on de plantation. Marster wus good ter his niggers before he wus married, but when she came in it got mighty rough. It got wusser an' wusser till 'bout de time of de surrender. De place wus a Hell on earth, mother said, if dere could ever be one. Missus had slaves whupped fur most any little thing an' den she wud not allow 'em to have much ter eat. My mother tole me all about it, atter de surrender. Mother said Missus runned the plantation an' made it hard fur all de slaves. She jist liked ter see slaves beat almost ter death. Dere wus a lot of niggers whupped in dat neighborhood by the overseers, owners an' patterollers.

"Slaves wus sold 'round from one to a nother 'mongst de white folks. Mother said you jist couldn't tell when you would git whupped. De wurk wus hard from sun to sun. Poor food ter eat, poor clothes, barefooted most of de time, an' a general hard time, till freedom put an end to it. My mother tole me ole man Pasqual Bert who lived near 'em in Wake County had his niggers whupped all day sometimes. He beat 'em unmercifully an sometimes made away wid 'em an' dey wus not seed no more. She said de way he whupped his slaves wus ter lay 'em up an' down on a log wid de bark off. He made 'em lie flat down on dere stomachs an' den buckled 'em on den de overseers beat 'em unmercifully. One time a overseer's wife heard a pat, pat, pat, down at de whuppin' log an' she ax him what it wus an' why he beat niggers from sun to sun an he tole her ole man Bert made 'im do it or else leave. So his wife says 'We will leave, you must not beat any more niggers if we perish to death,' an de overseer left. Mother said ole man Bert fed his little niggers out of a trough like hogs. Ole man Bert also had niggers tied to barrels an whupped.

"De grown slaves got one pair shoes a year. Dey wus give ter dem at Xmas. an de chillun didn't have no shoes at all. De clothes wus homemade. De houses wus made out of logs an had stick an dirt chimleys to 'em. De sleepin' places wus bunks fer de grown niggers an de chillun slept on de floor on pallets. A pallet wus made by spreadin' a quilt made of towbaggin' or rags on de floor, dat's where de chillun slept in our neighborhood before de surrender.

"Mother and father married by jumpin' de broom. Dey put de broom down on de floor den day helt one another's hands an den dey jumped de broom, den day went ter de slave house an' went ter bed. Mother an' father come ter Raleigh atter de surrender an wus married right. Mother an' father lef' ole man Rogers as soon as dey wus free. Dey lived on hardtack an' pickled meat de Yankees give for sometimes den dey went an' stayed wid Mr. Gray Jones an' when I wus a great big girl we lef' an moved ter Chatham County. Pa bought a place, paid for it, built a little house on it an' lived dere until he died.

"I married in Chatham County an' lived dere till my husband died den I kept stayin' till all my chillun married off an' I come ter Raleigh ter live wid my son. I had four chilluns. Dey are all dead but de one I live wid.

"I have been unable to git out of de house widout help fur a long time. I have heart trouble an' high blood pressure. Slavery wus a right bad thing. I thank God it is over."

LE



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 203 Subject: ANTHONY RANSOME Person Interviewed: Anthony Ransome Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 2 (unclear)]



ANTHONY RANSOME Ex-Slave Story (Free)

An interview with Anthony Ransome of 321 S. Tarboro St. Raleigh, N.C.

"I reckon dat I is eighty years old, an' I wus borned in Murfreesboro in Hertford County. My mammy wus named Annice an' my father wus named Calvin Jones. My brothers wus named Thomas, Wesley, Charlie, Henry an' William.

"We wus borned free, my mammy bein' de daughter of a white 'oman, an' my paw's paw onct saved do life o' his master's chile, an' wus freed.

"My paw wus a shoemaker an' he made a putty good livin' fer us. Course we ain't knowed so much 'bout slavery, but Doctor Manning who lived near us owned some slaves an' he treated 'em bad. We could hyar 'em screamin' at de top of dere voices onct in a while, an' when dey got through beatin' 'em dey wus tied down in de cellar. Dey ain't had much ter eat nother.

"Dar wus a preacher what tol' us 'bout a member of his congregation durin' de war. De wife wus sold from de husban' an' he married ag'in. Atter de war his fust wife comed back an' atter his secon' wife died he married de fust one ober ag'in."



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 1083 Subject: CAROLINE RICHARDSON Person Interviewed: Caroline Richardson Editor: G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: SEP 10 1937] [HW: A (circled)]



CAROLINE RICHARDSON

An interview with Caroline Richardson who does not know her age. She resides near the northern city limits of Selma.

"I reckin dat I is somers 'bout sixty year old. Anyhow I wus ten or twelve when de Yankees come ter Marse Ransome Bridgers' place near Clayton. Dat's whar I wus borned an' my pappy, my mammy an' we 'leben chilluns 'longed ter Marse Ransome an' Mis' Adeline. Dar wus also young Marse George an' young Miss Betsy who I 'longed to.

"Mis' Adeline wus little an' puny an' Marse Ransome wus big an' stout, dat's why it am funny dat mammy won't let Mis' Adeline whup her but she don't say nothin' when de marster gits de whup. Dere ain't nobody got many whuppin's nohow an' a slave on marster's place had ter be mean ter git a whuppin'. You see mammy would sass dem all.

"We ain't heard much 'bout de war, nothin' lak we heard 'bout de world war. I knows dat nobody from our plantation ain't gone ter dat war case Marse Ransome was too old an' Marse George wus a patteroller, or maybe he wus just too young. Dar was a little bit of talk but most of it we ain't heard. I tended to de slave babies, but my mammy what cooked in de big house heard some of de war talk an' I heard her a-talkin' to pappy about it. When she seed me a-listenin' she said dat she'd cut my year off iffen I told it. I had seen some of de slaves wid clipped years an' I wanted to keep mine, so I ain't said nothin'.

"One day Mis' Betsy come out ter de yard an' she sez ter we chilluns, 'You has got de habit of runnin' ter de gate to see who can say howdy first to our company, well de Yankees will be here today or tomorrow an' dey ain't our company. In fact iffen yo' runs ter de gate ter meet dem dey will shoot you dead.'

"Ober late dat evenin' I heard music an' I runs ter de gate ter see whar it am. Comin' down de road as fast as dey can I sees a bunch of men wid gray suits on a-ridin' like de debil. Dey don't stop at our house at all but later I heard dat dey wus Wheeler's cavalry, de very meanest of de Rebs, though 'tis said dat dey wus brave in battle.

"About a hour atter Wheeler's men come by de Yankees hove into sight. De drums wus beatin', de flags wavin' an' de hosses prancin' high. We niggers has been teached dat de Yankees will kill us, men women an' chilluns. De whole hundert or so of us runs an' hides.

"Yes mam, I 'members de blue uniforms an' de brass buttons, an' I 'members how dey said as dey come in de gate dat dey has as good as won de war, an' dat dey ort ter hang de southern men what won't go ter war.

"I reckin dat dey talk purty rough ter Marse Ransome. Anyhow, mammy tells de Yankee Captain dat he ort ter be 'shamed of talkin' ter a old man like dat. Furder more, she tells dem dat iffen dat's de way dey're gwine ter git her freedom, she don't want it at all. Wid dat mammy takes Mis' Betsy upstairs whar de Yankees won't be a-starin' at her.

"One of de Yankees fin's me an' axes me how many pairs of shoes I gits a year. I tells him dat I gits one pair. Den he axes me what I wears in de summertime. When I tells him dat I ain't wear nothin' but a shirt, an' dat I goes barefooted in de summer, he cusses awful an' he damns my marster.

"Mammy said dat dey tol' her an' pappy dat dey'd git some land an' a mule iffen dey wus freed. You see dey tried ter turn de slaves agin dere marsters.

"At de surrender most of de niggers left, but me an' my family stayed fer wages. We ain't really had as good as we done before de war, an' 'cides dat we has ter worry about how we're goin' ter live.

"We stayed dar at de same place, de ole Zola May place, on de Wake an' Johnston line, fer four or five years an' I went to school a little bit. Atter we left dar we went to Mr. John H. Wilson's place near Wilson's Mill. It wus at de end of dese ten years dat mammy wus gwine ter whup Bill, my brother, so he went off ter Louisanna an' we ain't seed him since.

"At de end of dis time I married Barney Richardson an' we had three chilluns, who am all dead now. We worked an' slaved till we bought dis house an' paid fer it, den in 1918 he died. I married John Haskins de second time but he's been dead now fer about ten years.

"I told you dat I owned dis shack but you see how de top has come ter pieces an' de steps has fell down. I'm behind in my taxes too so I'm 'spectin' dem ter take it away from me at any time. I has been dependent on de white folks now fer four or five years. De county gives me two dollars a month an' de white folks gives me a little now an' den. You see dat I can't straighten up so I can't work in five years.

"Drawin' water out of dat well wid no curb shore bothers me too, come an' look at it."

I looked at the well and in the well and was horrified. There was no curbing at all, only a few rotting planks laid over the hole, and on these she stood right over the water while she drew up the heavy bucket with a small rope and without the aid of a wheel. "I reckin dat some of dese days somebody will draw me outen dis well," she continued briskly. "Anyhow hit don't matter much.

"You see dat little patch, wid de roastin' ears comin' an' de peas a-bloomin'. I grubbed it up wid my hoe an' planted it myself. Iffen you can spare it I wish you'd give me a quarter an' iffen you're round here 'bout three weeks stop an' git you a mess of peas."



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 638 Subject: CHARITY RIDDICK Story teller: Charity Riddick Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 2 (unclear)]



CHARITY RIDDICK 813 E. D. Street.

"I am 80 years old, you know after 79 comes 80, dats how old I am. A year ago, a little over a year ago, I wus 79 by de age in de Bible. My son Ernest Riddick tole me dat. He is gone to Greensboro to work. He carried de Bible wid him. If I had de Bible I could tell de story better den I can. My full name is Charity Riddick and my husband wus Weldon Riddick. He is dead. My father wus named Lewis Jones. Mother wus named Haley Jones. I had three brothers, Washington, William and Turner, two sisters Mary and Celia. All my people are dead except my sons. I have three sons livin'.

"I got sick an' I got way down in my taxes. I am payin' a dollar on' em every time I can get it. I ain't able to work much. I chops in de garden to make a little to eat. My sons help me some. Dey have children you know, but dey send me a little. Dey is all married. One has eight chillun, the other five chillun and de third has four chillun. Dey can't help me much.

"I belonged to Madison Pace in slavery time. He dead an' gone long ago do'. My missus wus name Mis' Annie Pace. Sometimes I got plenty to eat and sometimes I didn't. All I got came through my mother from marster and missus. I was in my mother's care. I wus so young dey didn't have much to do with me. The plantation wus about three miles east o' Raleigh.

"Dis house did belong to me, but I am a long way behind on it. Dey lets me stay here and pay what I kin. I rents a room to an old lady fer 75 cents a week. I buys oil and wood wid it. De lights has been cut off. I uses a oil lamp fur light. Lights done cut off. I can't pay light rent, no sir, I haint been able to pay dat in a long time.

"In slavery time when de people you call de Yankees come, I wus small, but father took us and left the plantation. We lived in Raleigh after that. Father did not stay on de plantation anymore but he farmed around Raleigh as long as he lived. He made corn, peas, potatoes and other things to feed us with. I used to hear 'em talk about de Ku Klux. We wus mighty afraid of dem.

"I used to hear my father say he had a very good master. My min' is not good but I remember we used water from a spring and lived in a little log house out from my master's 'great house'. I remember sein' de slaves but I do not remember how many dere wus. I never saw a slave whupped. My mother's son wus sold, that wus my brother Washington wus sold away from her before de surrender. Mother cried a lot about it. I remember sein' her cry about my brother bein' sold.

"I remember sein' de Yankees. Dey told us dey were the Blue Jackets dat set us free. I wus afraid o' dem. I am old enough to have been dead long ago. Guess it is the mercy of the Lord dats lets me live.

"All I know about Abraham Lincoln is what I been told. Dey say, I think dey said he set de slaves free. I don't know much good or bad about Mr. Roosevelt. I can't read and write. Dey would not let a nigger have any books. Dey were perticular 'bout dat. When dey tole us 'bout de Bible dey say it say obey your marster. Dis is 'bout all I 'members. Yes, 'bout all I 'members."

AC



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 736 Subject: SIMUEL RIDDICK Story teller: Simuel Riddick Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



SIMUEL RIDDICK 2205 Everette Ave.

"My name is Simuel Riddick. I was born the fourth day February, 1841. My owners, my white people, my old mistress wrote me a letter telling me my age. My mother was Nancy Riddick; she belonged to the Riddicks in the Eastern part of the State. My father was named Elisha Riddick. My master was named Elisha and my mistress Sarah Riddick. They had three daughters, Sarah, Christine, and Mary, one boy named Asbury Riddick.

"I was born in Perquimans County, North Carolina and I have lived in North Carolina all my life. We had good food, for marster was a heavy farmer. There were about 200 acres cleared on the plantation, and about 25 slaves. The great house was where marster lived and the quarters was where we lived. They were near the great house. I saw only one slave whupped. I had mighty fine white people, yes, mighty fine white people. They did not whup their slaves, but their son whupped my mother pretty bad because she did not bale enough corn and turnips to feed the fattening hogs.

"He was a rang tang. He loved his liquor, and he loved colored women. The ole man never whupped anybody. Young marster married in the Marmaduke family in Gates County. He sold one man who belonged to his wife, Mary. I never saw a slave sold.

"I have seen lots o' paterollers. They were my friends. I had friends among 'em because I had a young missus they run with. Dats why they let me alone. I went with her to cotton pickin's at night. They came, but they didn't touch me. My young missus married Dr. Perry from the same neighborhood in Perquimans County. Bill Simpson married her sister. He was from the same place. Watson White married the other one. He was from Perquimans.

"There were no half-white children on Marster's plantation, and no mixups that ever came out to be a disgrace in any way. My white folks were fine people. I remember marster's brother's son Tommy going off to war. Marster's brother was named Willis Riddick. He never came back. I got a letter from my missus since I been in Raleigh. She was a fine lady. She put fine clothes on me. I was a foreman on the plantation and looked after things in general. I had charge of everything at the lots and in the fields. They trusted me.

"When the war broke out I left my marster and went to Portsmouth, Virginia. General Miles captured me and put me in uniform. I waited on him as a body servant, a private in the U.S. Army. I stayed with him until General Lee surrendered. When Lee surrendered I stayed in Washington with General Miles at the Willard Hotel and waited on him. I stayed there a long time. I was with General Miles at Fortress Monroe and stayed with him till he was in charge of North Carolina. He was a general, and had the 69th Irish brigade. He also had the Bluecats and Greentorches.

"I waited on him at the Abbeck House, Alexandria, Virginia after the war. I stayed with the general a long time after the war. I didn't go with General Miles when he was ordered to the plains of the west.

"I stayed on the Bureau here in Raleigh. Dr. H.C. Wagel was in charge. After I left the Bureau I worked at the N.C. State College several years then I worked with the city at the city parks. I never left the state after coming here With General Miles.

"I had mighty good white people, was treated all right, was made foreman and treated with every kindness. I haven't anything to say against slavery. My old folks put my clothes on me when I was a boy. They gave me shoes and stockings and put them on me when I was a little boy. I loved them and I can't go against them in anything. There were things I did not like about slavery on some plantations, whuppin' and sellin' parents and children from each other but I haven't much to say. I was treated good.

"Don't know much about Abraham Lincoln, haven't much to express about Mr. Roosevelt. He is a mighty pleasant man tho'. I learned to read and write after the war. I could not read and write when I was a soldier."

AC



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 453 Subject: Ex-Slave Stories Person Interviewed: Adora Rienshaw Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 1 (unclear) 1937]



EX-SLAVE STORIES

An interview with Adora Rienshaw, 92, of 431 South Bloodworth Street, Raleigh.

"I wuz borned at Beulah, down hyar whar Garner am now, an' my parents wuz Cameron an' Sally Perry. When I wuz a month old we moved ter Raleigh.

"We wuz called 'Ole Issues', case we wuz mixed wid de whites. My pappy wuz borned free, case his mammy wuz a white 'oman an' his pappy wuz a coal-black nigger man. Hit happened in Mississippi, do' I doan know her name 'cept dat she wuz a Perry.

"She wuz de wife of grandfather's marster an' dey said dat he wuz mean ter her. Grandfather wuz her coachman an' he often seed her cry, an' he'd talk ter her an' try ter comfort her in her troubles, an' dat's de way dat she come ter fall in love wid him.

"One day, he said, she axed him ter stop de carriage an' come back dar an' talk ter her. When he wuz back dar wid her she starts ter cry an' she puts her purtty gold haid on his shoulder, an' she tells him dat he am her only friend, an' dat her husban' won't eben let her have a chile.

"Hit goes on lak dis till her husban' fin's out dat she am gwine ter have de baby. Dey says dat he beats her awful an' when pappy wuz borned he jist about went crazy. Anyhow pappy wuz bound out till he wuz twenty-one an' den he wuz free, case no person wid ary a drap of white blood can be a slave.

"When he wuz free he comed ter Raleigh an' from de fust I can remember he wuz a blacksmith an' his shop wuz on Wolcot's Corner. Dar wuz jist three of us chilluns, Charlie, Narcissus, an' me an' dat wuz a onusual small family.

"Before de war Judge Bantin's wife teached us niggers on de sly, an' atter de war wuz over de Yankees started Hayes's school. I ain't had so much schoolin' but I teached de little ones fer seberal years.

"De Southern soldiers burned de depot, which wuz between Cabarrus an' Davie Streets den, an' dat wuz ter keep de Yankees from gittin' de supplies. Wheeler's Cavalry wuz de meanest troops what wuz.

"De Yankees ain't got much in Raleigh, case de Confederates has done got it all an' gone. Why fer a long time dar de way we got our salt wuz by boilin' de dirt from de smoke house floor where de meat has hung an' dripped.

"I'm glad slavery is ober, eben do' I ain't neber been no slave. But I tell yo' it's bad ter be a 'Ole Issue.'"



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 712 Subject: CELIA ROBINSON Story teller: Celia Robinson Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



CELIA ROBINSON 611 E. Cabarrus St.

"My name, full name, is Celia Robinson. I can't rest, I has nuritus so bad; de doctor says it's nuritus. I do not know my age, I wus eight or ten years old at de close o' de war. De ole family book got burned up, house an' all. I wuz borned a slave. Dat's what my father and mother tole me. My father, he 'longed to Dr. Wiley Perry of Louisburg, N.C., Franklin Co., an' my mother 'longed to McKnight on an adjoining plantation. I do not know McKnight's given name. My father wus named Henderson Perry. He wuz my marster's shop man (blacksmith). My mother wus named Peggy Perry. McKnight's wife wus named Penny. I member her name.

"I member when de Yankees came ter my mother's house on de McKnight plantation near Louisburg an' dey went inter her things. When de Yankees came down my brother Buck Perry drug me under de bed and tole me to lie still or de Yankees would ketch me. I member de sweet music dey played an' de way dey beat de drum. Dey came right inter de house. Dey went inter her chist; they broke it open. Dey broke de safe open also. Dey took mother's jewelry. But she got it back. Missus went ter de captain an' dey give back de jewelry. My missus wus de cause of her gittin' it back.

"I wuz old enough to go up ter where my brother kept de cows when de war ended. I member where he kept de calves. My brother would carry me up dere ter hold de calves off when dey wus milking de cows. My marster would take me by de hand and say 'Now, Celia, you must be smart or I will let de bull hook you.' He often carried me up to de great house an' fed me. He give me good things ter eat. Yes, I am partly white. It won't on my mother's side tho', but let's not say anything about dat, jist let dat go. Don't say anything about dat. Marster thought a lot o' me. Marster and missus thought there wus nothin' like me. Missus let me tote her basket, and marster let me play wid his keys.

"I cannot read an' write. I have never been ter school but one month in my life. When I wus a little girl I had plenty ter eat, wear, an' a good time.

"I 'member when my father would come ter see mother. De patterollers tole him if he didn't stop coming home so much dey wus goin' ter whip him. He had a certain knock on de door, den mother would let him in.

"I 'member how mother tole me de overseer would come ter her when she had a young child an' tell her ter go home and suckle dat thing, and she better be back in de field at work in 15 minutes. Mother said she knowed she could not go home and suckle dat child and git back in 15 minutes so she would go somewhere an' sit down an' pray de child would die.

"We lived at Dr. Wiley Perry's one year atter de war, then we moved ter de plantation of Seth Ward, a white man who was not married, but he had a lot of mulatto children by a slave woman o' his. We stayed dere four years, den we moved ter de Charles Perry plantation. Father stayed dere and raised 15 children an' bought him a place near de town o' Franklinton. I got along during my early childhood better dan I do now. Yes, dat I did. I plowed, grubbed an' rolled logs right atter de war, I worked right wid de men.

"I married Henry Robinson. We married on de Perry plantation. We had two children born ter us, Ada an' Ella. Dey are both dead. I wish I had had two dozen children. I have no children now. If I had had two dozen, maybe some would be wid me now. I am lonesome and unable to work. I have been trying to wash and iron fer a livin', but now I am sick, unable to work. I live with my grandson an' I have nothing."



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 1239 Subject: GEORGE ROGERS Person Interviewed: George Rogers Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



GEORGE ROGERS Ex-Slave Story

"George Rogers is the name. I has carried fur 94 years an' over. I will be 95 the first day o' this comin' August. Louis Rogers wuz my father. My mother wuz Penny Rogers. All my brothers an' sisters are dead except one sister. She is livin' in Buffalo, New York. She is somewhere in seventy years old. She wuz the baby in our home. My mother an' father an' all o' us belonged to Felix Rogers. He lived in the edge o' Wake County next to Greenville County. My mother came from Canada. My master came here from Canada an' married here. He married old man Billy Shipp's daughter. Her name wuz Matilda Shipp.

"I cannot read an' write. Dey did not 'low no niggers to handle no papers in dem days. Master had three plantations an' about one hundred slaves. We had good houses an' plenty to eat. My master wuz a good man. We had no church on the plantation, but we had prayermeeting in our houses. He 'lowed dat an' when dey had big meeting, he made us all go. We had dances or anything else we wanted to at night. We had corn shuckings, candy pullings, an' all the whiskey an' brandy we wanted. My daddy didn't do nuthin' but 'still for him. Whiskey wuz only ten cents a quart den.

"I have never seen him really whup a slave any more dan he whupped his own chilluns. He whupped us all together when we stole watermelons and apples. He made us chillun, white and black, eat together at a big table to ourselves. We had ordinary clothes, but we all went alike. In the summer and winter we all went barefooted and in our shirt tails mos' er de time. His chilluns wuz just as bad fer goin' barefooted as we niggers wuz.

"We had our patches, and he allowed us to have the money we made on 'em. Our houses were called slave quarters. Our marster's house wuz a big fine two story-house. We slaves called it 'de great house'. None er de slaves from Marster Roger's plantation never run away.

"We chillun played de games uv marbles, cat ball, an' we played base, prison base. At night we all played peep squirrel in the house. We played blindfold and tag.

"We fished a lot in Briar Creek. We caught a lot o' fish. Sometimes we used pin hooks we made ourselves. We would trade our fish to missus for molasses to make candy out uv.

"When we got sick we had a doctor. His name wuz Dr. Hicks. I never wuz sick, but some uv de res' wuz. We had an old colored man who doctored on all us chillun. He give us roots an' herbs.

"Yes sir, I have seen slaves sold. My marster died the year the war started; den dey had a big sale at our house. Dey had a sale, an' old man Askew bought a whole lot o' our niggers. I don't know his name only dey called him 'old man Askew'. He lived on Salisbury Street Raleigh, down near de Rex Hospital, Corner Salisbury and Lenoir Streets. Old man Askew wuz a slave speculator. He didn't do nothin' but buy up slaves and sell 'em. He carried de ones he bought at our house to Texas. He bought my half-sister and carried her to Texas. Atter de surrender I saw her in Texas once, never no more.

"When de war begin dey carried young marster off. His name wuz William Rogers, an' dey sent me to wait on 'im. I wuz in camp wid 'im up here by de old Fair Grounds. Atter we got there I seed old Colonel Farrabow, he wuz Colonel o' dat regiment. We all lef' Raleigh on wagons, an' I don't know whur we went atter we lef' Raleigh; I wuz las'. We got on de train at Fayetteville, whur dey kept de rations. We went to a place whur dere wuz a lot o' water. I don't know its name. We were dere about three days when dey had a battle, an' den Colonel Farrabow come round an' tole me marster wuz gone. He told us to go to the breas'works and work. I stayed dere three years and eight months. Den dey had anudder battle dar just befo' I lef', and de Yankees tuc' de place.

"I went to de Yankees den. Dey give me clothes, shoes, sumtin to eat, and some money too. I worked for 'em while dey were camped in Raleigh. I come wid' em back to Raleigh. Dey were camped on Newbern Avenue and Tarboro Street and all out in Gatlin' Field in de place now called Lincoln Park. De Yankees, when dey tuc' us, tole us ter come on wid' em. Dey tole us to git all de folks's chickens and hogs. We wuz behind 'em, an' we had plenty. Dey made us steal an' take things fur 'em. Wheeler's Calvary went before us, dat's why dey wuz so rich. Dey got all de silver, an' we got de chickens and hogs.

"De Yankees skinned chickens and geese. Dey cut hogs an' cows up an' den skinned 'em. Dey took jis' part of a cow sometime, jis' de hind quarters an' lef' de res'. We went to one place, an' de white 'oman only had one piece o' meat an' a big gang o' little chillun. I begged de Yankees to let dat piece of meat alone, she wuz so po', but de officer tole 'em to take it, an' dey took her las' piece o' meat.

"I stayed wid de Yankees two years arter de surrender. Dey carried me to Florida when I lef' Raleigh. When I lef' 'em in Florida I went ter Texas to min' cattle. I stayed in Texas seven years. Den Mr. Hardie Pool from down here at Battle Bridge, Wake County come out dere. When he started home I couldn't stan' it no longer, an' I jis tole him I wuz goin' back home to North Carolina. No Sir, when I got home, I would not go back. No mo mindin' cattle in Texas fur me. I married arter I come back here. I married Polly Bancomb first, den a 'oman named Betsy Maynard, and las', Emily Walton.

"When de surrender come marster wuz dead, but he lef' it so dat all his slaves who had families got a piece o' lan'. Dere were four of 'em who got lan'. He wuz dead do', but missus done like he had it fixed.

"We had white overseers. Old man John Robinson stayed there till de surrender; den he lef'. We used to kill squirrels, turkeys, an' game wid guns. When marster went off some o' us boys stole de guns, an' away we went to de woods huntin'. Marster would come back drunk. He would not know, an' he did not care nuther, about we huntin' game. We caught possums an' coons at night wid dogs. Marsa an' missus wuz good to us.

"I heerd a heap uv talk about Abraham Lincoln, but I don't know nuthin' bout him. I like Mr. Roosevelt all right. He is all right as fur as I know of 'im. I digs fish worms fer a livin'; I can't work much. I jist works awhile in the mornin'. I don't git anything from charity, de county, ner de State. I don' have much. Dese are de bes' shoes I has. Dey flinged dem away, an' I picked 'em up. Dey is jist rags uv shoes. I shore need shoes."

L.E.



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 1172 Subject: HATTIE ROGERS Person Interviewed: Hattie Rogers Editor: G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 4 1937]



HATTIE ROGERS

"I was born a slave in New Bern, N.C., Craven County, the 2nd day of March 1859. My full name is Hattie Rogers. My mother's name was Roxanna Jeffreys. Her husband was named Gaston Jeffreys, but he was not my father. My father was Levin Eubanks, a white man. I was born before my mother was married. I called my father Marse Levin. We belonged to Allen Eubanks of New Bern, N.C. and his sister's son was my father. His sister was named Harriot and I was named after her. Marster didn't care who our fathers was jest so the women had children. My father died in 1910. My mother was 15 years old when I was born. When I was a little girl they moved us out to the plantation on the White Oak River in Onslow County where we had plenty to eat and wear. We made the stuff and we ate it. Our marster was good to us. Marster carried me around in his arms a whole lot. He would say to me, 'Come on Harriot, and let's go get a dram. If you're like your daddy I know you like it.'

"Our marster did not whip us or allow anyone else to whip us.

"When the Yankees took New Bern, two years before the war ended, we all were refuged to Franklin County to keep them from setting us free. All who could swim the river and get to the Yankees were free. Some of the men swum the river and got to Jones County, then to New Bern and freedom. One of these was Alec Parker. The White Oak River was in Onslow County bordering Jones County. There was a lot of slaves who did this, but he is the only one I personally remember.

"When we got to Franklin County, we saw plenty of patterollers, and many of the men were whipped. Mother's husband was beat unmercifully by them.

"There was no churches on the plantation, but we went to the white folks church and sat on the back seats. The white people was friendly to us in the eastern part of the state. Indeed it was more stiff up in Franklin County. Some of the slave-owners was very mean to their slaves. I remember seeing some of the slaves almost beat to death. Lawsy mercy, that was a time. I saw a slave-owner whip a colored woman named Lucy, his servant. He was named John Ellis, Judge Ellis's son in Franklinton.

"My mother cooked for Judge Ellis then. John Ellis whipped Lucy because he found a piece of pickle outside the pantry door. He accused her of stealing it. There was a string attached to a bell, near where Lucy stayed. She was a house girl. He accused her of stealing the pickle and leaving it there when the bell rung, and she had to go in the house. He made her strip to her waist and then he made her hug a tree. He whipped her with a cowhide whip until she could only say in a weak voice, 'Oh pray! Marster John'. Major Thomason was there, and he went to Marse John and said 'John, don't kill the dam nigger.'

"A lot of the white folks hid in the woods and in caves and swamps. They hired slaves out when they didn't need 'em themselves. They hid jewelry in hoss stables by digging holes, putting the jewelry in, and then replacing the straw.

"When the slaves was sent from White Oak to Franklinton before Lee surrendered they had to walk all the way. We children was carried in dump carts drawn by mules. My marster nor none of his boys was ever in the Confederate Army. When they got us to Franklinton they put us in jail for safe keeping.

"If a woman was a good breeder she brought a good price on the auction block. The slave buyers would come around and jab them in the stomach and look them over and if they thought they would have children fast they brought a good price.

"Just before the war started when the birds would sing around the well, Missus would say, 'War is coming, them birds singing is a sign of war; the Yankees will come and kill us all.' I can see the old well now jest as plain. It had a sweep and pole. You pulled the sweep over by pulling the pole and bucket down into the well. When it sunk into the water, the heavy sweep pulled it up again.

"I wouldn't tell anything wrong on my ole marster for anything. He was good to all of us. He offered my mother a piece of land after the war closed, but mother's husband would not let her accept it. My grandmother took a place he offered her. He gave her fifty acres of land and put a nice frame building on it.

"The man we belonged to never was married. He bought a woman who had two little girls, on [TR: one] named Lucy and the other Abbie. He took Lucy for a house girl to wait on his mother. She had eleven children by him. They're all dead except one. All the missus I ever had was a slave, and she was this same Lucy. Yes, sir he loved that woman, and when he died he left all his property to her.

"When the slaves on the plantation got sick they relied mostly on herbs. They used sage tea for fever, poplar bark water for chills.

"When the husbands and brothers and sweethearts were gone to the war the white ladies would sing. Annie Ellis and Mag Thomas would sing these pitiful songs. 'Adieu my friends, I bid you adieu, I'll hang my heart on the willow tree and may the world go well with you.'

"When I was three years old I remember hearing this song. 'Old Beauregard and Jackson came running down to Manassas, I couldn't tell to save my life which one could run the fastest, Hurray boys, hurray!'

"When the surrender came the Yankees rocked the place where we were in. We were in a box car. They wanted to get a light-colored slave out.

"The Yankee officers came and gave mother's husband a gun and told him to shoot anyone who bothered us. They put a guard around the car, and they walked around the car all night.

"My mother was dipping snuff when the Yankees came. One rode up to her and said, 'Take that stick out of your mouth.' Mother was scared when the Yankees tried to break in on us. She cried and hollered murder! and I cried too. I din't know about freedom. I was too young to realize much about it. When the war ended I had just been hired out. I was never sent off. I think slavery was an awful thing, and that Abraham Lincoln was a good man because he set us free."

LE



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 669 Subject: HENRY ROUNTREE Person Interviewed: Henry Rountree Editor: G.L. Andrews



HENRY ROUNTREE

Henry Rountree, 103 years old, of near Newsom's Store in Wilson County.

"I wus borned an' bred in Wilson County on de plantation of Mr. Dock Rountree. I wus named fer his oldest son, young Marse Henry. My mammy, Adell, my pappy, Shark, an' my ten brothers an' sisters lived dar, an' aldo' we works middlin' hard we has de grandes' times ever.

"We has two er three corn shuckings ever' fall, we has wood splittin' days an' invite de neighbors in de winter time. De wimmen has quiltin's an' dat night we has a dance. In de col' winter time when we'd have hog killin's we'd invite de neighbors case dar wus a hundret er two hogs ter kill 'fore we quit. Yes, mam, dem wus de days when folkses, white an' black, worked tergether.

"Dar wus Candy pullin's when we makes de 'lasses an' at Christmas time an' on New Year's Eve we has a all night dance. On Christmas mornin' we serenaded de marster's family an' dey gived us fruits, candy an' clothes.

"My marster had game cocks what he put up to fight an' dey wus valuable. When I wus a little feller he had one rooster that 'ud whup me ever' time I got close ter him, he'd whup young Marse Henry too, so both of us hated him.

"One day we set down wid bruised backs ter decide how ter git rid of dat ole rooster, not thinkin' 'bout how much he cost. We made our plans, an' atter gittin' a stick apiece ready we starts drappin' a line of corn to de ole well out in de barnyard. De pesky varmint follers de corn an' when he gits on de brink of de well we lets him have it wid de sticks an' pretty shortly he am drownded. Marse ain't never knowed it nother.

"De missus had a ole parrot what had once 'longed ter her brother who wus a sea captain. Dat wus de cussingest thing I ever seed an' he'd cuss ever'body an' ever'thing. One day two neighborhood men wus passin' when dey heard somebody holler 'Wait a minute.' When dey turns 'roun' de ole parrot sez, 'Go on now, I jist wanted ter see how you looks, Great God what ugly men!' An' de ole thing laughs fit ter bust.

"Dat ole parrot got de slaves in a heap of trouble so de day when de hawk caught him we wus tickled pink. De hawk sailed off wid de parrot screamin' over an' over, 'Pore polly's ridin'. We laughed too quick case de hawk am skeerd an' turns de ole fool parrot loose.

"Hit's things lak dat dat I 'members mostly, but I does 'member when de news of de war come. Ole missus says dat de will of de Lord be done. Den ole Marse sez dat his slaves won't be no happier in heaben dan dey will wid him an' dat de Yankees better keep outen his business.

"De war comes on an' as de niggers l'arns dat dey am free dar am much shoutin' an rejoicin' on other plantations, but dar ain't nothin' but sorrow on ours, case de marster sez dat he always give us ever'thing dat we needs ter make us happy but he be drat iffen he is gwine ter give us money ter fling away. So we all has ter go.

"Ole marster doan live long atter de war am over, but till de day dat he wus buried we all done anything he ax us.

"I has done mostly farm work all of my life, an' work aroun' de house. Fer years an' years I lives on a part of Marse's land an' atter dat I lives here. I ain't got no kick comin' 'bout nothin' 'cept dat I wants my ole age pension, I does, an' I'd like to say too, Miss, dat de niggers 'ud be better off in slavery. I ain't seed no happy niggers since dem fool Yankees come along."

LE



By Miss Nancy Watkins Madison, Rockingham County

Biography Sketch of Ex-Slave, Anderson Scales, 82

Three fourths of a mile from his master's mansion in Madison on Hunter Street, with his large plug tobacco factory across the street on the corner (where [HW: in] 1937 stands the residence of Dr. Wesley McAnally,) in some "quarters" which Nat Pitcher Scales had near Beaver Island Creek, Anderson was born to slave mother, Martha Scales of a father, "man name uh Edwards." Baby Anderson was the slave of William Scales, at one time the world's largest manufacturer of plug or chewing tobacco and he was named for Henry Anderson, the husband of Mrs. William Scales' sister. Cabins here "quarters" consisting of three or four log ones. Cabins were near the old "free white schoolhouse" or rather the "schoolhouse" for whites.

Rolling around the yards with the other pickaninnies, Anderson passed his babyhood, and when he was a boy he went to be house boy at Marse Jim Dick Cardwell's on Academy Street facing Nat Pitcher Scales' home, later that of Col. John Marion Gallaway. Here he learned good manners and to be of good service. Later he was houseboy in the big house just beyond the Methodist church at James Cardwell's who had a mill five miles west of Madison and whose wife was Sallie Martin; granddaughter of Governor Alexander Martin. Here Anderson learned more good manners and rendered more good house boy service such as sweeping floors, bringing in "turns" (armfuls) of fireplace wood, drawing water from the yard well and toting it into the house, keeping flies off the dining table, carrying out slops and garbage, for every town house had its back lot pigs.

Larger [HW correction: Later] Anderson was hired to Nat Wall, (colored) farmer and blacksmith, then to Joshua Wall, white planter of Dan Valley northeast of town a few miles.

White men would get contracts to have the mail carried to various towns and Anderson Scales was hired by one of these contractors to carry the mail from Madison to Mt. Airy, fifty miles distant in northwest Surry County. He would go by horse and sulky (sulky) on Monday, return on Wednesday; go on Thursday, return on Saturday. This was in the late 1870's and 1880's.

During the tobacco season, he worked in factories in Winston (no Salem then) and Greensboro. Then he worked in Nat Scales' factory in Madison and in that of his former Marster, William Scales. He married Cora Dalton and started his home a mile up the Ayresville road from town.

The railroads having come with the consequent transporting of freight to and fro, Anderson started a public draying business of one horse and a wagon, which lasted thirty eight years and was given up by him to his son-in-law, Arthur Cable who now, in 1937, has an auto-truck and hauls large paper boxes from the Gem Dandy Suspender and Garter Company located across Franklin Street from Anderson's house boy home, that of James Cardwell, to the post office. From the freight train depot, Arthur hauls merchandise also in paper cartons to the feed stores which do not own an auto truck of their own, and he hauls to the garter factory a few two by three foot wooden boxes loaded with metal fillings for the suspenders. This is a complete contrast to the loads "drayed" by Anderson through the 1880's, 1890's and the 1900's to about 1915 when the automobile began to change the world of transportation, and Anderson's one horse wagon dray business along with it.

For thirty-eight years Anderson met every train to capture the trunks of visitors or "drummers" in town. Two immense hogheads packed with leaf tobacco was sold on the floors of Webster's ware house and Planters' warehouse. Two stacks of tobacco baskets loaded with the bundles of leaf, Anderson, five feet high, and his lean horse could dray from the sales floors to the packing houses where the tobacco was packed and pressed into the hogsheads or else stored for removal at a greater profit. One such packing house was converted into the Gem Dandy Garter Factory about 1915, and today three of the original five remain. One or two are still used for tobacco packing, though the season of 1936-1937 marked the hauling of immense loads of tobacco direct from the sales floors to the Winston-Salem buyers. One pack house is used as a fertilizer sales house. One loaded to the roof comb with heavily insured tobacco was mysteriously burned during the World War where such insurance collections were the fashion! Thus Anderson's dray business dwindled. Any kind of hauling he could get done, and his horses, as they died from strenuous work, would be replaced by others who in no time learned the meaning of Anderson's constant pulls on their reins and his constant and meaningful clucks. With no swivel features to his wagon, Anderson could nevertheless work the horse and wagon into any kind of close position for loading and unloading. He always said the baggage of the writer was the heaviest he carried. This was so because of books packed in the trunk or in boxes and twenty-five cents a piece was the fare!

Anderson's wife and children at home were making the acre homestead pay with cow, pigs, chickens and vegetables quickly grown on soil enriched from his dray horse stable as well as the cow stable: "snaps", tomatoes, Irish potatoes, roasting ears, butterbeans, squash in the summer, in the spring mustard and onions; in the winter "sallet" from the "seven top" and turnips, too. Fruit trees planted in time gave fruit for eating, canning and "pursurving" while all the little darkies knew where wild strawberries, crab apples and black berries grew for the picking. With Mommuh taking in white folks' washing and the dray horse money coming in, Anderson Scales prospered in Madison where he started from zero scratch. He had money in the bank.

Anderson said after "Srenduh", [HW addition: the surrender] he learned to read and write at a negro free school taught by Matilda Phillips. With his wife, Cora Dalton, sister of Sam Dalton, Anderson joined the African Methodist Church fifty years ago. This was located just across the street from the home of his former employer, Nat Wall until 1925 when it was abandoned with its parsonage and a new brick church built on the Mayodan road with stained glass memorial windows, electric lights, piano, well finished interior, and christened St. Stephen's Methodist Episcopal Church. The omission of the word "South" emphasized the fact that the members considered it a northern Methodist church as well as African. In this church, Anderson was exhorter, trustee and class leader. In then religious capacities, his education by the colored teacher, Matilda Phillips was a great help to him.

Anderson's second wife was Dinah Strong who had no children. She died December, 1933 from a goiter on her throat.

For ten years or more Anderson has operated a grocery store in the corner of the Mayodan and the Ayresville roads. Customers come more at night, so Anderson has time in the day to work his garden patches of onions, snaps and the like and to stop and rest on the porch of the small store house. Clad in good dark clothes, a low crowned derby hat, he often snoozes as he rests his eighty-two year old frame.

Anderson and many of his children were distinguished by their very large round eyes with much white showing. One of his sons inherited the blackness of his skin. This was "Little Anderson" who once sought a warrant from a local justice to punish by trial some boy at the tobacco warehouse, who had remarked thus: "Boy, charcoal would leave a light mark on your skin!"

Anderson's son, Will Scales, was the first husband of Bertha who had to nurse him through the terrible spells he would have from liquor debauchery. Will was the servant of the Nat Picket family and once Mrs. Pickett herself went down to their home and nursed Will through one of his terrible "cramping spells." After Will Scales' death, Bertha married Cleve Booker, plumber, ex-World War veteran and of surpassing good nature from Washington, Georgia. Their oldest son they named Chilicothe, Ohio, because at that city, Cleve was in war camp and met Bertha who had gone there to go out in service.

Some of Anderson Scales other children still live in Madison in homes marked by good construction, clean well furnished interior, artistic surroundings. Martha married Arthur Cable who also holds an honored place in the church. One daughter married Odell Dyson. Fannie Sue married Thompson. Walter married Morris Carter's daughter. He died in early 1937 of pneumonia in West Virginia. So his widow went to help take care of "Pap Anderson". Nancy Scales married Eler William Wells.

When told that the pioneer graveyard of the Scaleses which is a mile or so west of his store was a thick tangle of growth and no stones to the once wealthy tobacco manufacturer, William Scales, Unka Anderson exclaimed May 19, 1937: "You don't mean to tell me my ole Marse ain't got no tombstone to his grave".

A merchant's wife stated that about 1930, Anderson had more ready cash in the bank of Madison than any white man in town, but Uncle Anderson disclaimed this.

But the Depression of 1930-1934 did not injure this energetic black man who started in a "quarters" cabin a mile or so west of his present home and store, lived all his life in Madison and faces the "one clear call" with comfortable snoozes on his own front porch. Respected by white and colored, Anderson Scales, 82, has guided his life by the gospel preached by his pastor, also an ex-slave, William Scales of Madison.



By Miss Nancy Watkins Madison, North Carolina Rockingham County

BIOGRAPHY OF EX-SLAVE CATHERINE SCALES

About ten years old at the "Srenduh", now quite feeble, but aristocratic in her black dress, white apron and small sailor hat made of black taffeta silk with a milliner's fold around the edge, Aunt Catherine is small, intensely black with finely cut features and thin lip. Her hand is finely molded, fingers long and slender. Her voice is soft and poise marks her personality. Sallie Martin, a ginger cake colored woman, sixty-five, has lived as a kind of caretaker with Aunt Catherine since 1934 and thereby gets her own roof and refreshment. For Aunt Catherine has gotten "relief" from the county welfare chief, Mrs. John Lee Wilson, and Jeff Scales, seventy, brings Sallie to the "relief" dispensary in his two horse wagon for the apples or onions or grape fruits or prunes with dried bena, milk, canned beef or potatoes as the stores yield. A white horse and a brown mule comprise the team, and several dogs trot along side. Sally also small and frail looking sits in a chair planted in the flat wagon bed behind the drivers' seat, a plank resting on the sides. Jeff drives close to the door, alights and helps Sallie step on to the back of the bed, thence to a chair he has placed, then to the ground, just as polite whites did to their women folks after the war when they would ride to town or to church or to picnics in wagons in order to carry the family, the servants, the dinner, horse feed, water bucket, chairs, cushions. Sallie gets in line, presents Aunt Katherine's card which she has gotten by mail, hears the dispensing lady call to the helping men what Aunt Catherine is to have, and struggles to the door with it where Jeff meets her, transfers the load to his wagon bed. Then with his hands he steadies Sallie as she mounts the chair, then the back of the wagon bed, over the side with voluminous long skirts, and old fashioned ruffled sun bonnet. Off to the hilly north part of Madison called Freetown, Jeff's [TR: Jeff] expertly guides his team through automobile traffi. [TR: traffic] During the worst of the depression Aunt Sallie said she kept her coal reserve in a tub upstairs so nobody could steal it.

Aunt Katherine strengthened by her relief food can talk comfortably.

"I shure did love my white fokes—Ole Marse, Timberlikk (Timberlake) an' Ole Miss Mary Timberlikk. My mother, Lucy Ann Timberlikk bough their portraits at the sale of the old Timberlake things, and kepp them an' brought them with her to Madison, when we moved up here, an kepp them until mummy was in her last sickness, an' two of Ole Misses daughters came over from Greensboro, an' begged,—an mammy sold the pictures to them for a quarter a piece. I still have Ole Misses mother's dish, though. I've got in [TR: it] packed away in a safe place. I'll get it and show it to you." It is a large flat platter of the ware called iron ware and was generally used to serve fried ham and eggs while the gravy came in a small deep dish. In summer, a heap of snaps greasy with middling meat slashed and boiled down dry with Irish potatoes around the edge came to table in the platter.

The keeper of the Timberlake oil portraits was Lucy, slave of Nat Scales, and Lucy's husband was Nathan Scales. Slave Nat Scales (named for Marse Nat) had married a black woman who came "across the water", Sallis [TR: Sallie?] Green who become by purchase Sallie Scales. Thus Aunt Katherine recalls her grandmother as one who "cum over the water with a white lady". The purchaser Mrs. Scales was from the LeSeur family. Her father was clerk of the Rockingham county court as early as [TR: missing date?] and kept the session records of his Presbyterian church in a fine neat script.

"The LeSeurs had as big a house as the Scales house at Deep Springs. I've stayed many a nite in it. It was next to Ole Marse Jimmie Scaleses. John Durham Scales, Marse Jimmy's grandson lived and died in it—his grandmother's house, the old Le Seur place, ten miles down the Dan river towards Leaksville. Miss Mary Le Seur married Marse Gus Timberlikk, an was the grandmother of William Timberlake Lipscomb who used to come up to Madison and go to Dr. Schuck's Beulah Academy just after the Srenduh. When Marse Billy'd get lonesome, he'd go down to Spring Garden and dance with the Scales girls. Ole Marse Le Seur's wife was Miss Lizzie Scales Marse Jimmie's.

"Nome, us slaves didn't have no chuch. Marse Nat Scales ud let his slaves go to the babtizings.

"I could hoe but I didn't do much clean up work. I spun on a great big wheel that went m-m-m-m-m. I wish I had a big wheel to spin on right now. My mammy, Lucy Ann, could weave. She sho loved her white fokes. Cullud fokes didn't have much sence den. She would take cow hair and kyard and spin it with a little cottin in to rolls, and then she'd weave cloth out of it.

"An how they made their shoes den: My father would cut shoes out of the raw cowhide and put them on bottoms (soles) he cut out uv wood. An he couldn't run in them a-tall, just had to stomp along! An day didn't put on shoe till nearly Christmas."

Schooling

Aunt Katherine said she "learned her letters" in a school fuh cullud fokes only taught by Mr. Sam Allen just after the Srenduh close to the old Timberlake place. Mr. Sam was the son of Mr. Val(entine) Allen an Miss Betsy Martin (she was the granddaughter of Governor Martin).

"Sometimes Miss Betsy'd git worried with little nigguh rolling roun on de floor thub hader under her feet, an' she'd say: 'Gway! Gway!! Gway fum hyuh! Gway tuh Pamlico!' An the little nigguhs'd say: 'Miss Betsy, whah's Pamplico?'

"'Nine miles tother sede o' hell!'

"Yesin Mr. Sam Allen learn't me my letters. He was crippled. He married a Grogan, an' two Allen girls married Grogans—one, Mary! Mr. Val's father was William Allen. I went to Mr. Vaul Allen's funeral an he was buried on his father's ole place, an Miss Betsy too.

"How de cullud fokes did hate to be sold down south in de cotton country! One time ole Marse Jimmy Scales wuz go sell uh hunduhd down south, and he died, an' all de cullud fokes wuz glad he died cause he wuz go sell um, an oftuh he died, day didn't halftuh be sold way fum home.

"One slave woman wuz sold way fum home—had three chillun, and daze six an eight an ten yuhs ole. She sang a song juss fo day tuh hub off. She put her three children between her knees. She sung, 'Lord, Be With Us.'"



do—me—sol—re—do—sol—te—sol—me—do—do—sol—fa—me—sol—do "Remembuh me Remembuh me Oh Lord remembuh me"

This was sung full of quavers and pathos, and entreaty.

"Den she cried! An dey took huh off, and de chillun never saw her no more.

"Aftuh I learned my lettuhs at Marse Sam Allens school, I learned a Bible verse ebry day an if I want bixxy I'd learn ah half uh chaptuh. I read some newspapers, and some story books de Miss Mary Timberlikk give us chillun to read an look ovuh. I learned to write in a copy book, an I'd write stories about Christ, and several different stories. I filled a great big copy book with practice. I learned the most, tho', from Webstuh's Weekly in Reidsville. We took that papuh goin on five yuhs. I read evrything in it.

"Nome, I didn't know Miss Irene McGehiet. Uncle John R. Webster made that paper. It sure wuz a good paper!

"My daddy wuz Marse Nat's slave, an Porter Scales wuz his slave too. Ole Marse Jimmie Scale's sons was Nat Pitcher and John Durham, and John Durham went to wah. He took Richmond Scales long wiff him to wait on him! Cook fuh him! Make his pallet! Clean his clothes! Rub down his horse! Marse John Durum'd sleep with Richmond in de wintuh to keep him warm. Richmond'd carry him watuh in his canteen during a battle. Marse John Durum had on a ring that wuz carved and he tole Richmond take a good look at this ring sose he'd know him by it, if he didn't kum up aftuh a battle. Richmond ud hole onto his hawse's tail, an go wif him fuhs he could fo a battle.

"Yes'm I ma'd, Richmond Scales when he wuz a widower an had a boy named Jeff. I never had no chillun. Jeff's (70) seventy now, an lives right ovuh cross de street dere in the other hous the Vadens built sixty years ago. I live in one, too."

Aunt Katherine's house has a front room with stairway in the corner leading to one above. A back door leads to a side porch flanked by a two roomed ell, and ended by a pantry. Chimneys with fireplaces once gave heat, but economy had put in Aunt Katherine's tiny stove which she a lump at a time in the winters of depression and relief 1932-1937.

A big fat clean double bed, bureau, wash stand, "centuh" table, chairs and the stairway consumed the living room floor space.

"Nome! I joined de chuch after a big meetin' held by preacher Richard Walker about 1907. I joined the Methodist Chuch an I have always loved to go tuh chuch. This street goes on and goes into the Mayodan road at our new brick (1925) Methodist Chuch. Richmond Scales, my husband died long ago; my mother, about four years ago. She was very old! I wanted to move to Reidsville when we leff de ole plantation whab we could get more wok (waiting) waten on wimmen (obstetries) but the men fokes had kin fokes up hyuh, an we keem hyuh.

"I know whah de ole Sharp graveyard 'bout two miles fum (east) Madison close to Mist Tunnuh (Turner) Peay's; cause lots uh cullud fokes buried there an I went to the funerals. I could go straight tuh it."



By Miss Nancy Watkins, volunteer Madison, North Carolina

Story of Ex-Slave, Porter Scales

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 1 1937]

Monday, December 19, 1933, the faithful colored friends of Uncle Porter Scales transported his body from St. Stephen's African Methodist Episcopal Church located on the Madison-Mayodan highway to a plantation grave yard several miles east of town, along roads slippery with sleet. He was buried by the side of his first wife on the 130 acre farm which Uncle Porter said he bought from Mr. Ellick Llewellyn to raise his family on and which he later swapped to Mr. Bob Cardwell for a town house in Pocomo (Kemoca, a suburb from first syllables of promoters' names, Kemp—Moore—Cardwell—Kemoca). In this town house, Uncle Porter passed away aged he thought ninety-seven. For a number of years, he had drawn a pension of $100.00 per year for his services to the Confederate government in hauling foodstuff from Charlotte, North Carolina to Danville, Virginia.

As a slave of Nat Pitcher Scales residing in the brick mansion on Academy Street across from the Methodist church, Porter came to Madison when ten years of age, and his memory held the development of Madison from the erection of the churches around 1845 to details like seeing little Bettie Carter (Mrs. B. Watkin's Mebane) cry from stage fright and pass up her "piece" at school "exhibition" (commencement). He saw Madison grow from a tiny trading village with aristocratic slave holding citizens with "quarters" on their town lots to a town of 1500 with automobiles clipping by to Mayodan, a mill town of 2000, and a thickly populated though unincorporated country side.

In 1930, Uncle Porter was struck by an automobile, and since he [HW addition: has] poked his way about town cautiously with his cane, no longer working as handy man to Thomas R. Pratt's family on the corner of Academy and Market streets. His slavery home was in a two roomed (with loft) cabin next door to the house Mr. Pratt built in 1890 when he moved to Madison from Leaksville. This cabin Col. Gallaway in the 1890's had enlarged to house the Episcopal rector, Mr. Stickney. Uncle Porter's slave home stands in 1937, occupied by Mr. Pratt's daughter, Mrs. Pearl Van Noppen and sons.

Uncle Porter was ever very polite and humble, for all his contacts he thought had always been with the highest of Dan river aristocracy. His medium, lean body, with a head like Julius Caesar's was covered with skin of "ginger cake color".

On the Deep Springs Dan River plantation lived Mrs. Timberlake whose daughter married Mr. Le Seur from an adjoining plantation just across the Dan river from Gov. Alexander Martin's Danbury plantation. She in time married Mr. Scales, and as property of this lady, Porter was born of legally married parents. Porter's brother, Nathan Scales, was given by his mistress to her daughter, when she married another Le Seur, and thus he became Nathan Le Seur. Both brothers have descendants in Madison of a high type of citizenship. Porter, himself was given the choice by his ole Miss of belonging to either of her two sons, John Durham Scales or Nathaniel Pitcher Scales. Porter chose Nat Scales as his young marse and come to Madison to live with him about 1845.

By obeying orders from his marse Nat Pitcher Scales, Porter operated a train of fifteen wagons loaded with corn for the Confederate cavalry from Charlotte, North Carolina to Danville, Virginia. Thus a Confederate soldier, he in his old age received a pension.

Porter said he got lots of practice in managing feed wagons by "Waggoning in Georgia" for his marster between the two cities, Augusta and Wadesboro. His master, he said, traded his services to "Dan River Jim Scales" who "bossed" the teams between Augusta and Wadesboro which were owned by John Durham Scales and Dan River Jim Scales. These wagons also carried corn. Nat Pitcher, Porter's master by choice, operated a store at Wadesboro, Georgia. Uncle Porter's "waggoning in Georgia" shows Madison's connection with the far south not only through the Scales family but through other families.

But the great honor of a tobacco country slave was that of being sold "down south to the cotton country."

So after the war, Porter Scales came back to the Dan river in Rockingham county, and bought his 130 acres farm from Mr. Alex Llewellyn. He liked to recount his matrimonial matters except those of his second wife who married him for a rich nigger widower, and spent his hard won dollars freely for lace curtains and such to adorn the town house in "Pocomo" and finally forced him out of the "town" house into the woodhouse in the yard where he lived some years, dying there. His church friends took charge of his body and kept it until put away by the side of his first wife.

She, Martha Foy, he said in 1932 to me, was bought by Dr. Ben Foy of Madison from Wheeler Hancock of Wentroth. Six of their children are living near Madison and in West Virginia, Stephen and Lindsay Scales at the old place down at Deep Springs. He told of "going tuh see" the attractive Betsy Ann, house girl slave of Mrs. Nancy Watkins Webster but was "cut out" by Noah Black. Aunt Betsy Ann Black is remembered as being the superlative obstetrical nurse in homes of the rich about Madison, and was designated by them as being a "lady" if ever there was a negro lady. She was never dressed except in "cotton checks". "Being cut out" thus, Porter cited as evidence of his aristocratic association: for one of Aunt Betsy's son became a Methodist preacher, and two of her grandaughters teachers in the public schools of North Carolina.

Porter told of the white school teacher, Professor Seeker who taught in the Doll academy, Madison's old "female academy" which still stands (remodeled since 1900 into a dwelling) on Murphy Street at the 60 foot deep well in the street, by the old Dr. Robert Gallway house (standing still in 1937) just south of John H. Moore's five acre homeplace. Professor Seeker, he said left Madison and went up on Baughn's Mountain to teach among the Baughns, Lewises and Higgies and Bibsons, pioneer families of that area. On that May 2, 1932 in his Kemoca yard, Uncle Porter recited the poem which little Bettie Carter forgot in stage fright at Professor Seeker's "exhibition" before Professor Jacob Doll ever started his "female school". All these pupils were pay "scholars".

The free school for Madison, the "old field schoolhouse" was way down the hill from the old Dr. Smith house near Beaver Island Creek. Only white folks intimate with itch, head lice and long standing poverty then sent their children to the "free ole feel schoolhouse".

Porter said as a laborer he helped build a big tobacco factory at Dr. Smith's old place. By 1880, this factory had been purchased by Madison negroes as community and fraternal "Hall" for assemblies. It served thus to 1925 when it was abandoned, and in 1936, it was torn down, the last of the several large plug tobacco factories operated in Madison 1845-1875 by the Scales, Daltons and Hays.

Porter could name and designate vocationally Madison's early white residents, and others, too, whom his Marse Nat Scales visited. His story of some Civil War refugees led to how their slave girl, Rose, acquired a small farm two miles east of town held to this day (1937) by her descendants, the Ned Collins family of Madison. Rose acquired the farm by Kindness to its owners, who willed it to her.

Forced to live in cellars in Petersburg, Virginia, (Mrs. A.R. Holderby, William Holderby, Miss Fannie Holderby, Mrs. Aiken) because of bombording Federal shells 1864 came to Madison afflicted with tuberculosis. Their slave girl was Rose. The whites died except a son, who became a Presbyterian minister. The whites were buried on a hill just north of the pioneer Joel Cardwell home (1937 Siegfired Smiths'). Rose was married to Uncle Henry Collins, and they lived on the place of Mrs. Louise Whitworth and Scylla Bailey. These white women willed their tiny farm to Rose Collins because of her kindness to them in their old age.



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: T. Pat Matthews No. Words: 1197 Subject: WILLIAM SCOTT Story Teller: William Scott Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 11 1937]



WILLIAM SCOTT Ex-Slave Story

401 Church St., 77 years old.

"My name is William Scott. I live at 401 Church Street, Raleigh, North Carolina. I wuz born 1860, March 31st. I wuz free born. My father wuz William Scott. I wuz named after my father. My mother wuz Cynthia Scott. She wuz a Scott before she wuz married to my father. She wuz born free. As far back as I can learn on my mother's side they were always free.

"My mother and father always told me my grandfather wuz born of a white woman. My grandfather wuz named Elisha Scott. I have forgot her name. If I heard her name called I have forgot it. My grandfather on my mother's side wuz a Waverly. I can't tell you all about dese white folks, but some of 'em, when they died, left their property to mulattoes, or half-breed children, and several of them are living in this community now. I can tell you exactly where they are, and where they got their property. Some of them are over half white. They were by a Negro woman who wuz a mulatto and a white man. Dey air so near white you can't tell them from white folks. This condition has existed as long ago as I have any recollection, and it still exists, but there are not as many children according to the relations as used to be.

"Free Negroes were not allowed to go on the plantations much. Now you see my father wuz a free man. We lived right here in town. My father wuz a ditcher and slave gitter. One night the man he worked for got up a crowd and come to whup him and take his money away from him. He had paid father off that day. Dat night dey come an' got him an' blindfolded him. He moved the blindfold from over his eyes and run an' got away from 'em. He never did go back o [TR: no] more to the man he had been workin' for. I wuz a little boy, but I heard pappy tell it. Dat wuz tereckly after de surrender. Pappy saw the man he had been workin' for when he slipped the blindfold off his face, and he knowed him.

"I wuz a boy when the Yankees came to Raleigh. They came in on the Fayetteville Road. They stopped and quartered at the edge of the town. I remember they had a guardhouse to put the Yankees in who disobeyed. Later on they came in from the east and quartered at the old Soldiers Home right in there, but not in the buildings. There were no houses there when the Yankees came. They had some houses there. They built 'em. They stayed there a good while until all the Yankees left. When the Yankees first came in they camped over near Dix Hill, when they come into town you hardly knew where they come from. They were jist like blue birds. They jist covered the face of the earth. They came to our house and took our sumpin' to eat. Yes sir, they took our sumpin' to eat from us Negroes. My daddy didn't like deir takin' our rations so he went to de officer and tole him what his men had done, and the officers had sumpin' to eat sent over there.

"My mammy cooked some fur de officers too. Dey had a lot of crackers. Dey called 'em hard tack. The officers brought a lot of 'em over dere. We lived near the Confederate trenches jist below the Fayetteville Crossin' on Fayetteville Street. The breastworks were right near our house.

"I know when the colored men farmed on share craps, dey were given jist enough to live on, and when a white man worked a mule until he wuz worn out he would sell him to de colored man. De colored man would sometime buy 'im a old buggy; den he wuz called rich. People went to church den on steer carts, that is colored folks, most uv 'em. De only man I wurked for along den who wud gib me biscuit through de week wuz a man named June Goodwin. The others would give us biscuit on Sundays, and I made up my mind den when I got to be a man to eat jist as many biscuits as I wanted; and I have done jist dat.

"My mammy used to hire me out to de white folks. I worked and made jist enough to eat and hardly enough clothes to wear to church until I wuz a man. I worked many a day and had only one herrin' and a piece of bread for dinner. You know what a herrin' fish is? 'Twon't becase I throwed my money away, twas cause we didn't git it, nuther to save up. When we farmed share crap dey took all we made. In de fall we would have to split cord wood to live through de winter.

"I will tell you now how I got my start off now, I am going to use dis man's name. I went to work for a man name George Whitaker. I drive a wagon for him. He 'lowed me all de waste wood for my own use. This wuz wood dat would not sell good on de market. I hauled it over home. I worked for him till he died, en his wife lowed me a little side crap. I made this crap, took de money I got for it, and built a little storehouse. I disremember how long I worked fer Mis' Hannah Whitaker. Den I quit work for her and went to work for myself. I owns dat little storehouse yit, de one I worked wid Mis' Hannah Whitaker, en from dat I bought me a nudder home.

"When de Yankees come to Raleigh dere wuz a building dey called de Governor's Palace, it stood whur de Auditorium now stands. Right back o' where de courthouse now stands wuz a jail and a gallows an' a whuppin' pos' all dere together. I know when dey built de Penitentiary dey hauled poles from Johnston County. Dey called dem Johnston County poles. Dey hauled em in on trains. Dis post office wuz not built den. De post office den wuz built of plank set up an' down.

"I remember seeing a man hung down at de jail. His name wuz Mills. He wuz a white man. When he got on de scaffold he said, 'What you gwine to do to me do it quick and be done wid it'.

"I think Abraham Lincoln done the colored man a heap of good. If it hadn't been for Mr. Roosevelt there are many livin' today who would have parished to death. There are plenty of people walkin' about now who would have been dead if Mr. Roosevelt had not helped them. The only chance I had to hold my home wuz a chance given me through him. At my age, I cannot make much at work, but through things he helped me, and I is holding my own."

B.N.



N.C. District: No. 2 Worker: Mary A. Hicks No. Words: 607 Subject: TINEY SHAW, EX-SLAVE OF WAKE COUNTY, 76. Story Teller: Tiney Shaw Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt



TINEY SHAW Ex-Slave of Wake County, 76.

"My papa wuz a free nigger, case he wuz de son of de master who wuz named Medlin. When a chile wuz borned ter a slave woman an' its pappy wuz de boss dat nigger wuz free from birth. I know dat de family wuz livin' on Mis' Susy Page's place durin' de war an' we wus jist lak slaves alldo' we wuz said to be free den.