Volume 14 — INFORMANTS (continued 4)

"Well, he give Uncle Sam de name of Shadrock. When he reach Uncle Aleck, he 'low: 'I adds to your name Aleck, two fine names, a preacher's and a scholar's, Porter Ramsey.' 'Bout dat time a little runt elbow and butt his way right up to de front and say: 'Marse Henry, Marse Henry! I wants a big bulldozin' name.' Marse Henry look at him and say: 'You little shrimp, take dis then.' And Marse Henry write on de slip of paper: Mendoza J. Fernandez, and read it out loud. De little runt laugh mighty pleased and some of them Fernandezes 'round here to dis day.

"My mammy name Bess, my granddaddy name June, grandmamny, Renah, but all my brothers dead. My sisters Clerissie and Phibbie am still livin'. Us was born in a two-story frame house, chimney in de middle, four rooms down stairs and four up stairs. Dere was four families livin' in it. Dese was de town domestics of master. Him have another residence on de plantation and a set of domestics, but my daddy was de coachman for both places.

"De Gaillard quarters was a little town laid out wid streets wide 'nough for a wagon to pass thru. Houses was on each side of de street. A well and church was in de center of de town. Dere was a gin-house, barns, stables, cowpen and a big bell on top of a high pole at de barn gate. Dere was a big trough at de well, kept full of water day and night, in case of fire and to water de stock. Us had peg beds, wheat straw mattress and rag pillows. Cotton was too valuable.

"Master didn't 'low de chillun to be worked. He feed slaves on 'tatoes, rice, corn pone, hominy, fried meat, 'lasses, shorts, turnips, collards, and string beans. Us had pumpkin pie on Sunday. No butter, no sweet milk but us got blabber and buttermilk.

"Oh, then, I 'bout to forgit. Dere was a big hall wid spinnin' wheels in it, where thread was spin. Dat thread was hauled to Winnsboro and brought to de Clifton place in Winnsboro, to de weave house. Dat house set 'bout where de Winnsboro Mill is now. Mammy was head of de weave house force and see to de cloth. Dere was a dye-room down dere too. They use red earth sometime and sometime walnut stain. My mammy learn all dis from a white lady, Miss Spurrier, dat Master David put in charge dere at de first. How long she stay? I disremembers dat. Us no want for clothes summer or winter. Had wooden bottom shoes, two pair in a year.

"Mr. Sam Johnson was de overseer. Dere was 'bout 700 slaves in de Gaillard quarter and twenty in town, countin' de chillun. De young white marsters break de law when they teach daddy to read and write. Marse Dick say: 'To hell wid de law, I got to have somebody dat can read and write 'mong de servants.' My daddy was his valet. He put de boys to bed, put on deir shoes and brush them off, and all dat kind of 'tention.

"De church was called Springvale. After freedom, by a vote, de members jines up, out of respect to de family, wid de Afican Methodist 'Piscopalian Church, so as to have as much of de form, widout de substance of them chants, of de master's church.

"No sir, us had no mulattoes on de place. Everybody decent and happy. They give us two days durin' Christmas for celebratin' and dancin'.

"I marry Sylvin Field, a gal on de General Bratton Canaan place. Us have three chillun. Nora Heath, dat I'm now livin' wid, at White Oak, Bessie Lew, in Tennessee, and Susannah, who is dead.

"What I think of Abe Lincoln? Dat was a mighty man of de Lord. What I think of Jeff Davis? He all right, 'cordin' to his education, just lak my white folks. What I think of Mr. Roosevelt? Oh, Man! Dat's our papa.

"Go off! I's blabbed 'nough. You 'bliged to hear 'bout dat funeral? Will I pester you for 'nother cigarette? No sir! I ain't gonna smoke it lak you smoke it. Supposin' us was settin' here smokin' them de same? A Gaillard come up them steps and see us. He say: 'Shame on dat white man', turn his back and walk back down. A Woodward come up them steps and see us. He say: 'You d— nigger! What's all dis?' Take me by de collar, boot me down them steps, and come back and have it out wid you. Dat's 'bout de difference of de up and low country buckra.

"Now 'bout Uncle Wash's funeral. Uncle Wash was de blacksmith in de forks of de road 'cross de railroad from Concord Church. He was a powerful man! Him use de hammer and tongs for all de people miles and miles 'round. Him jine de Springvale Afican Methodist 'Piscopalian Church, but fell from grace. Him covet a hog of Marse Walt Brice and was sent to de penitentiary for two years, 'bout dat hog. Him contacted consumption down dere and come home. His chest was all sunk in and his ribs full of rheumatism. Him soon went to bed and died. Him was buried on top of de hill, in de pines just north of Woodward. Uncle Pompey preached de funeral. White folks was dere. Marse William was dere, and his nephew, de Attorney General of Arizona. Uncle Pompey took his text 'bout Paul and Silas layin' in jail and dat it was not 'ternally against a church member to go to jail. Him dwell on de life of labor and bravery, in tacklin' kickin' hosses and mules. How him sharpen de dull plow points and make de corn and cotton grow, to feed and clothe de hungry and naked. He look up thru de pine tree tops and say: 'I see Jacob's ladder. Brother Wash is climbin' dat ladder. Him is half way up. Ah! Brudders and sisters, pray, while I preach dat he enter in them pearly gates. I see them gates open. Brother Wash done reach de topmost rung in dat ladder. Let us sing wid a shout, dat blessed hymn, 'Dere is a Fountain Filled Wid Blood'.' Wid de first verse de women got to hollerin' and wid de second', Uncle Pompey say: 'De dyin' thief I see him dere to welcome Brother Wash in paradise. Thank God! Brother Wash done washed as white as snow and landed safe forever more.'

"Dat Attorney General turn up his coat in de November wind and say; 'I'll be damn! Marse William smile and 'low: 'Oh Tom! Don't be too hard on them. 'Member He will have mercy on them, dat have mercy on others'."

Project #1655 Stiles M. Scruggs Columbia, S.C.

DANIEL WARING EX-SLAVE 88 YEARS OLD.

"I was born in Fairfield County, South Carolina, in 1849, and my parents, Tobias and Becky Waring was slaves of the Waring family, and the Bookters and Warings was kin folks. When I was just a little shaver I was told I b'longed to the family of the late Colonel Edward Bookter of upper Fairfield County.

"The Bookter plantation was a big one, with pastures for cattle, hogs and sheep; big field of cotton, corn and wheat, and 'bout a dozen Negro families livin' on it, mostly out of sight from the Bookter's big house. Two women and three or four Negro chillun work there, preparin' the food and carin' for the stock. I was one of the chillun. Colonel Bookter's household had three boys; one bigger than me and two not quite as big as me. We play together, drive up the cows together, and carry on in friendly fashion all the time. The nigger chillun eat with the two black women in a place fixed for them off from the kitchen, after the white folks finish. We generally have same food and drink that the white folks have.

"When I was 'bout eleven years old my master took me to Columbia one Saturday afternoon, and while Colonel Bookter was 'round at a livery stable on Assembly Street, he give me some money and tell me I could stroll 'round a while. I did, and soon find myself with 'bout a dozen of Master Hampton's boys. As we walk 'long Gervais Street, we met a big fine lookin' man with a fishin' tackle, goin' towards the river, and several other white folks was with him. As we turn the corner, the big man kinda grin and say to us: 'Whose niggers are you?' The bigger boy with us say: 'We all b'longs to Master Hampton.' He laugh some more and then reach in his pocket and give each one of us a nickel, sayin' to the white folks: 'Blest if I know my own niggers, anymore'.

"Yes sir, I was 'bout fourteen years old when President Lincoln set us all free in 1863. The war was still goin' on and I'm tellin' you right when I say that my folks and friends round me did not regard freedom as a unmixed blessin'.

"We didn't know where to go or what to do, and so we stayed right where we was, and there wasn't much difference to our livin', 'cause we had always had a plenty to eat and wear. I 'member my mammy tellin' me that food was gittin' scarce, and any black folks beginnin' to scratch for themselves would suffer, if they take their foot in their hand and ramble 'bout the land lak a wolf.

"As a slave on the plantation of Colonel Edward Bookter, I had a pretty good time. I knows I has work to do and I does it, and I always has plenty to eat and wear in winter and summer. If I get sick I has a doctor, so we set tight until 1865. After the war we come to Columbia, and mammy made us a livin' by washin' for white folks and doin' other jobs in the kitchen, and I worked at odd jobs, too.

"We didn't get much money from the Freedmen's outfit, which was 'stablished in Columbia. The white men who set it up and administered the Freedmen's funds and rations let some of their pets have much of it, while others got little or nothin'. An' existence become increasin' harder as nigger got more and more in the saddle.

"During the war, and it seem to me it would never end, we heard much 'bout President Lincoln. Niggers seem to think he was foolish to get into war, but they generally give him credit for directin' it right as far as he could. President Davis was powerful popular at the beginnin' of the conflict, but his popularity was far less when the war is over and he is in jail.

"I was 'most grown at the end of the war, and I was at no time popular with the black leaders and their white friends who rule the roost in Columbia for 'most thirteen years. I went back to my white friends in Fairfield County and work for years for Mister T.S. Brice, and others on the plantation.

"I has been married three times, and am now livin' with my third wife. She and me am makin' a sort of livin', and is yet able to work. I can only do de lightest work and the sweetest thought I has these days is the memory of my white friends when I was young and happy."

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, June 2, 1937

NANCY WASHINGTON Ex-Slave, 104 years.

"Come in child. Jes set right dere in dat chair whey I c'n be mindful uv yuh cause I ain' hear but sorta hard lak dese days. I jes come in outer de field whey I been chopping 'round uh little wid me hoe, but eve't'ing is grow so black 'fore me eye dat I t'ink I better rest meself uh little. I tries to help Sam (her son) aw I c'n, but I ain' mucha 'count no more. I 104 year old en I ain' gwinna be heah much longer. Me mark done strak (strike) me right dere dis a'ternoon. Dat been jes de way my ole mammy waz call."

"Does yah know whey dat place call Ash Pole? Dat whey I wuz raise up when I b'long to Massa Giles Evanson. He wuz uh good ole fellow. I ain' know wha' it wuz to ge' no bad treatment by my white people. Dey tell me some uv de colored peoples lib mighty rough in dat day en time but I ne'er know nuthin 'bout dat. I 'member dey is spank we chillun wid shingle but dey ne'er didn't hit my mudder."

"My Massa ne'er hab so mucha colored peoples lak some uv dem udder white folks hab. Jes hab my mudder en eight head uv we chillun. Hab 'nough to gi'e eve'yone uv he daughter uh servant apiece when dey ge' marry. Ne'er hab nuthin but women colored peoples. My Massa say he ain' wan' no man colored peoples."

"De preacher Ford, wha' use'er lib right up dere in town, papa hab uh big ole plantation wha' been jes lak uh little town. He hab hundred colored peoples en dey is hab eve't'ing dere. Hab dey preachin' right dere on de plantation en aw dat."

"Coase my white folks hab uh nice plantation en dey keep uh nice house aw de time. I wuz de house girl dere en de one wha' dey'ud hab to wait on de Missus. Dey'ud carry me eve'ywhey dey go. Al'ays know how I wuz faring. My Missus wuz big en independent lak. Talk lak she mad aw de time, but she warnt. She ne'er wear no cotton 'bout dere no time. Hab her silk on eve'y day en dem long yellow ear bob dat'ud be tetchin right long side she shoulder. I al'ays look a'ter de Missus en she chillun. Wash dey feet en comb dey hair en put de chillun to bed. But child, some white folks is queer 'bout t'ings. Dey watch yuh gwine 'bout yuh work en den dey'll wan' yuh to do sumptin fa dem. De ole man take me 'way from helping de Missus en send me out to plow corn en drap peas. I wuz shame too cause I ne'er lak fa he to treat my Missus dat uh way."

"De peoples ne'er didn't cook in no stove den neither. Dey hab big ole round dirt ubben (oven) to cook dey ration in. Dey make dey ubben outer white clay en hadder build uh shelter over it cause dey'ud cook outer in de yard. Dey ne'er cook but jes twice uh week. Cook on Wednesday en den ne'er cook no more till Saturday. I 'member de big ole ham dat dey cook en de tatoes en so mucha bread. Jes hab 'bundance aw de time. I got uh piece uv de ole slavery time ubben heah now. I ge' it outer en show it to yuh. Dis is one uv de leads (lids) en dey'ud put uh chain en hook on dere en hang it up in de fireplace. Dat de way dey cook dey ration. O Lawd, ef I could ge' back to my ole home whey I could look in en see jes one more time, jes one more time, child."

"I wuz jes uh girl when de Yankees come t'rough dere. Dey look jes lak uh big blue cloud comin' down dat road en we chillun wuz scared uv em. Dat land 'round 'bout dere wuz full uv dem Yankees marchin' en gwine on. Dey ne'er bother my white folks but in some uv de places dey jes ruint eve't'ing. Burnt up en tore down aw 'bout dere."

"Yuh ain' ne'er see nobody weave no cloth nowadays. In de winter dey use'er al'ays put woolen on de little chillun to keep em from getting burnt up. Peoples wuz easy to cotch uh fire in dat time. Dey hab plenty uv sheep den en dis jes 'bout de time uv de year dat dey shear de sheep. Al'ays'ud shear de sheep in de month uv May. Dey is make aw kinder nice cloth den. I c'n charge en spin en make any kinder streak yuh wan'. Coase my mudder use'er weave de jeanes cloth en blanketing."

"Dey use'er hab some uv dem corn-shucking 'bout dere but I ne'er take no part in none uv dat. A'ter freedom declare, us pull boxes en dip turpentine. Dat wha' wuz in de style den."

"I won' but 'bout 16 when I marry en I hab uh nice wedding. Marry right dere in my Massa yard en hab white swass dress to wear. I marry uh settled man offen uh rich man plantation en dey ne'er wan' me to marry, but dey ne'er say nuthin 'gainst it. Dey hab good manners den en manners de t'ing dat carry peoples t'rough anyt'ing, child."

Source: Nancy Washington, age 104, colored, Dusty Hills, Marion, S.C. (Personal interview, May 1937).

Project #1655 W.W. Dixon Winnsboro, S.C.

CHARLEY WATSON EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.

"Dis is a mighty hot day I tells you, and after climbing them steps I just got to fan myself befo' I give answer to your questions. You got any 'bacco I could chaw and a place to spit? Dis old darkie maybe answer more better if he be allowed to be placed lak dat at de beginnin' of de 'sperience.

"Where was I born? Why right dere on de Hog Fork Place, thought everybody knowed dat! It was de home place of my old Marster Daniel Hall, one of de Rockefellers of his day and generation, I tells you, he sho was. My pappy had big name, my marster call him Denmore, my mammy went by de name of Mariyer. She was bought out of a drove from Virginny long befo' de war. They both b'long to old marster and bless God live on de same place in a little log house. Let's see; my brother Bill is one, he livin' at de stone quarry at Salisbury, North Carolina. My sister Lugenie marry a Boulware nigger and they tells me dat woman done take dat nigger and make sumpin' out of him. They owns their own automobile and livin' in Cleveland, Ohio.

"Us live in quarters, two string of houses a quarter mile long and just de width of a wagon road betwixt them. How many slaves marster had? Dere was four hundred in 1850, dat was de year I was born, so allowing for de natural 'crease, 'spect dere was good many more when freedom come. Our beds was made of poles and hay or straw. Was my marster rich? How come he wasn't? Didn't he have a Florida plantation and a Georgia plantation? Didn't us niggers work hard for our vittles and clothes? It make me laugh de way de niggers talk 'bout eight hours a day. Us worked by de 'can and de can't system'. What way dat you ask me? Well, was dis way; in de mornin' when it git so you can see, you got to go to work and at night when it git so dark you can't see you ceasted to work. You see what I mean? My marster's white overseer 'dopted de 'can and can't system' of work hours. My mammy had to plow same as a man, she did sir. Sometimes they pulled fodder and fooled wid it on Sunday.

"You is a pushin' me a little too fast. Let me gum dis 'bacco and spit and I can do and say more 'zackly what you expect from me. My marster had sheep, goats, mules, horses, stallion, jackass, cows and hogs, and then he had a gin, tan yard, spinnin' rooms, weave room, blacksmith shop and shoe shop. Dere was wild turkeys on de place, deer in de cane brakes and shad in de Catawba River. De Indians fetch their pots and jars to sell, and peddlers come to big house wid their humps on their backs and bright yards of calico and sich things de missus lak to feel and s'lect from. I see money then, but I never see a nigger wid money in his paws in slavery time, never!

"Us was fed good on corn meal, hog meat, milk, butter, 'lasses, turnips, beans, peas and apples, never hungry. Boss whip me once for fightin' and I never fought anymore, I tells you.

"My mistress name Miss Sarah. Her was a Hicklin befo' she marry. Their chillun was: Tom, Billie, Dan and Jason, all dead 'cept Marster Jason. De white overseer was Strother Ford. He give de slaves down the country maybe sometimes, so heard them say, but I didn't see him.

"Did us sing? Yes sir. What us sing? One was what I's gwine hist right dis minute and sing wid your lieve. (Here Charley sang, 'Give me dat old time religion'.)

"Us made 'simmon beer sometime and lye soap just 'bout in de same way, hopper was 'rected for dat. 'Simmons was put wid locust; hickory ashes was used to make soap. Every Christmas us got ginger cake and sassafras tea.

"Doctor Scott was de doctor for de slaves. Us niggers was mighty sad when his son Willie's gun went off by accident and kill him in 1868. De Doctor never smile again after dat cumbustion of dat gun. Does you 'member de time Mr. Till Dixon was drowned? He your uncle? 'Twas de fourth of July, I 'member dat day, and a boy Freddie Habbernick was drowned in Catawba in 1903. Dat river take a many soul over dat other shore, I tells you."

S-260-264-N Project 935 Samuel Addison Richland County

EX-SLAVE 91 YEARS OLD, CONGAREE, SOUTH CAROLINA THERE WAS NO GOD BUT MOSSA AN' MISSUS

"My pa name was Nat White who tell me dat I was bo'n about 1842. My ma was name Jane White. My pa use to carry all de votes from McClellanville to Charleston. He come from Tibbin, South Carolina. He also been all 'round de United States. My Ma's Ma bin name Kate. I had sense to know 'em all.

"I know a heap o' sojus had on nice buttons an' had plumes in dere hats. Dey wus singin' an' playin' on a flute dis song, 'I wish I wus in Dixie,' an' dey went in de big house an' broke up ebery thing. Dey say to me, 'you are as free as a frog,' an' dey say to my pa, 'all your chillun are free.' Dey say 'little niggers is free as a frog' an' we holler much.

"I aint nebber do no work, but I kin 'member I use to wear a pant you call chambery. Ma cook a pot o' peas an' weevils wus always on de top. Ma would den turn mush an' clean a place on de floor, she make a paddle an' we eat off de floor. She use to bake ash cake too. I didn' know 'bout no garden, all I know I eat. Dis what dey put on me I wear em. I nebber know nothin' 'bout shoes.

"My master been name Bill Cooper who had a gal an' a son. De gal been name Mary an' de boy Bill like de daddy.

"Tarbin wus a big house, but I aint nebber know de number o' slaves or 'mount o' lan' dat went wid um.

"De slaves had a church name Lazarus an' some went to de white church. Dey had us bar off frum de whites an' we use to look t'rough a glass door. I member when a preacher say, 'honor your missus an' mossa dat your days may be long for dey is your only God.' My Ma tell me when dey use to lick dem she use to sing dis song, 'do pray for me' en ma say w'en de lickin' got too hot she say 'oh God' en mossa say, 'show me dat damn man', den he say, 'I am your only God. My preacher name wus Sabie Mood.

"De slaves couldn't git any news, but dey had to work on Sunday if de week bin bad. W'en it rain dey use to shuck co'n.

"W'en Bill Cooper die he holler to me, 'I'm burnin' up' an' ma say missus say, 'iron me too hot, she meat is red like fire.'

"We use to sing song like dese;

"I marry Sarah on December 18th. Him de only one I marry an' we had a big weddin' an' plenty o' somethin' to eat. We had fourteen chillun.

"Pa say mossa use to take de fork an' punch holes in dere body w'en he got mad. People always die frum de pisin.

"Dis is all I know I ain't go tell no lie, dat what pa say, I moved here atter de yankees come."

Reference; Uncle Dave White, 91 years old Congaree, South Carolina.

S-260-264-N Project 1885 Laura L. Middleton Charleston, S.C.

No. Words: 452

UNCLE DAVE WHITE An Old Time Negro

Uncle Dave White, one of the waning tribe lives in a simple homestead down a dusty and wind-swept curved country lane on the out skirt of McClenville, forty miles North of Charleston rests the simple shanty of David White, aged Negro, affectionally known to the Negro and white population for many miles around as "uncle Dave".

His quiet unadulterated mode of living and his never changing grateful disposition typifies the true Southern Negro of pre-Civil War days; a race that was commonplace and plentiful at one time, but is now almost extinct, having dwindled in the face of more adequate educational facilities.

His homestead, resembling a barn more than a place to live in. To protect the house against the hazardous affects of imperilling winds, long poles are made to prop the somewhat dilapidated shanty.

A visit to his home, one dark and dreary day in late December, found him as usual in the best of spirits. He welcomed the visitors with a cordiality that would rival the meeting of two long lost friends. The front has no main entrance; the main door is around the back. There are conspicuous displays of many ancient burlap bags, heavy laden, hanging from high rafters, which contained corn and peanuts.

"But why not keep them in your barn, Uncle Dave!" one would ask.

"Well, suh, I keep mah co'n and grain nuts in yuh so mak eye can sta' on 'em," he replies.

A further inspection of the premises revealed other precautions he had taken against the unwelcomed guests; a crude lock on each door and many other precautionary measures convicted, that he was willing to take no unnecessary chances at having his worldly goods stolen.

His age is truly a matter of conjecture. The more you look at him the more uncertain you become. His droopy carriage and shriveled feature betray you at first sight. The first impression will lead one to believe that he is about one hundred years of age, and later it will appear that he is not that old.

We had known "uncle Dave" for a long time; for years it had been a familiar sight to see him trudging the streets of the town with burlap bags thrown across his shoulders containing such household necessities as grits, salt, sugar, etc., and such articles as the house wives would give him out of sheer sympathy. To every friendly greeting he always had the humble response of "Tank Gawd, my eye is open."

He is well known throughout the town. One Sunday night a short time ago, while the services of a white church were in progress, distinguishable sounds of Amen were heard at regular intervals coming from the outside. On investigating they discovered that it was "uncle Dave" reverently enjoying the proceedings. Many times he has been seen outside the same church listening to the services.

SOURCE

Interview with (Mrs.) Minnie Huges, age 43, 179 Spring Street, welfare worker.

Project 1655 Martha S. Pinckney Charleston, S.C.

FOLKLORE Approx. 637 words

INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE

Everybody in the town of Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish (across the Bay from Charleston) knows "Tena White, the washer," "Tena, the cook," "Maum Tena" or "Da Tena, the nurse"—the same individual, accomplished in each art, but best as a nurse.

The house where Tena lives is the second in a row of Negro houses. The writer, calling from the gate, was answered by Tena, a middle-sized woman of neat figure. As the writer ascended the steps a friendly cur wagged itself forward and was promptly reproved by Tena, who placed a chair, the seat of which she wiped carefully with her dress. The piazza was clean and on the floor a black baby slept on a folded cloth, with a pillow under its head. The writer was soon on friendly terms with Maum Tena, and was told: "As soon as my eye set on you, I see you favor the people I know. My people belonged to Mr. William Venning. The plantation was Remley Point. I couldn't zactly member my pa's name. I member when de war come though. Oh dem drum; I nebber hear such a drum in my life! De people like music; dey didn't care nothing bout de Yankees, but dem bands of music! My mother name Molly Williams. My pa dead long before that. All my people dead. I stayin' here with my youngest sister chile—youngest son. He got seven head ob chillun."

"I can do anything—wash or cook—aint no more cook though. Oh yes" and her eyes sparkled, "I know how to cook de turkey, and de ham wid de little brown spots all over de top. Nobody can collec' my soup for me; I first go choose my soup bone. One wid plenty richness. My chile say, 'While my Tena live I wouldn't want nobody else.' But I couldn't take de sponsibility now."

"Maum Tena, how many children did you have?"

"Maggie an Etta an Georgie an Annie, etc., etc." so fast and so many that one couldn't keep up.

"Wait, Maum Tena. How many were there in all—your own children?"

"I nebber had a chile."

"Oh, those were the children you nursed."

"I marry twice. Caesar Robson an Aleck White."

"Did you ever sing spirituals?"

"No, I nebber had time."

"But you sang lullabies to the children."

"Oh, I sing someting to keep de chile quiet."

"Where is your church, Maum Tena?"

"De Methodist Church right here. I know I got for die some day. He keep me distance,[B] but when I look an see my flesh, I tenk de Lord for ebbery year what pass on my head. Taint my goodness, tis His goodness. Nothing but the pureness of heart will see Him."

Tena was shocked and disgusted at the idea of the Lord being a "black man." She said with perfect certainty that he was "no such."

"We all goin to de same Heaven, and there aint no black people there."

The writer asked Tena her age; before she could answer, her great-niece came to the door and said, "She eighty-eight." Tena was indignant. Her eyes flashed. "I aint goin to hab nobody come along puttin down my age what dunno anyting about it. I ought to be as high as nine. Let um be as high as nine."[C]

"If I didn't been round de house wid white people I wouldn't hab dis opportunity today, an dey good to me an gib me nuf to keep my soul an body together. My mother raise me right. When de Yankee come through we been at Remley Point. My Ma took care ob me. She shut me up and she gard me. De Yankee been go in de colored people house, an dey mix all up, an dey do jus what dey want. Dey been brutish.

"De beautiful tureen, stand so high and hab foot so long" lifting her hands, "an all de beautiful ting smash up, an all de meat an ham in de smoke house de stribute um all out to de people, an de dairy broke up, an de horse an de cow kill. Nothin leave. Scatter ebberyting. Nothin leave."

SOURCE: Tena White, Mt. Pleasant, Christ Church Parish, S.C. Age: Approximately 90.

Project #1655 W.W. Dixon Winnsboro, S.C.

BILL WILLIAMS EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.

Bill Williams lives on the Durham place, nine miles east of Winnsboro, S.C., on the warm charity of Mr. Arthur M. Owens, the present owner. He is decrepit and unable to work.

"I was born a slave of old Marster John Durham, on a plantation 'bout five miles east of Blackstock, S.C. My mistress name Margaret. Deir chillun was Miss Cynthia, Marse Johnnie, Marse Willie and Marse Charnel. I forgits de others. Then, when young Marse Johnnie marry Miss Minnie Mobley, my mammy, Kizzie, my daddy, Eph, and me was give to them. Daddy and mammy had four other chillun. They was Eph, Reuben, Winnie and Jordan. Us live in rows of log houses, a path 'twixt de two rows. Us was close to de spring, where us got water and mammy did de white folks washin' every week. I kep' de fires burnin' 'round de pots, so de water would keep boilin'. Dat's 'bout all de work I 'members doin' in slavery time. Daddy was a field hand and ploughed a big red mule, name Esau. How many slaves was dere? More than I could count. In them days I couldn't count up to a hundred. How, then, I gonna kno' how many dere was? You have to ask somebody else. I'll just risk sayin' dere was big and little ones, just a little drove of them dat went to de field in cotton pickin' time, a hollerin' and a singin' glory hallelujah all day long, and pick two bales a day.

"Marse Johnnie and Miss Minnie mighty good marster and mistress to deir slaves. We had good rock chimneys to our houses, plank floors, movable bedsteads, wid good wheat straw ticks, and cotton pillows. Other folks' slaves was complainin' 'bout dirt floors in de houses, boards to sleep on, no ticks, and rags for pillows. Us got flour bread and 'lasses on Sunday, too, I'm here to tell you.

"They sho' fetch dat catechism 'round on Sunday and telled you who made you, what Him make you out of, and what Him make you for. And they say dat from de crown of your head to de top of your big toe, de chief end of every finger and every toe, even to de ends of your two thumbs, was made to glorify de Lord! Missus more 'ticular 'bout dat catechism than de marster. Her grandpa, old Marster John Mobley was a great Baptist. After de crops was laid by, every August, him visit his granddaughter. While dere, he take de slaves and dam up de branch, to make a pond for to pool de water. Then he take to de hill just 'bove, cut down pine tops, and make a brush arbor to hold de prachin' in. 'Vite white preachers, Mr. Cartledge, Mr. Mellichamp or Mr. Van, to come hold a 'vival for all de slaves in and 'round and 'bout de country. I's seen 27 go down and come up out dat pool, a splashin' water from deir faces, one Sunday evenin'. A terrible thing happen one time at de baptism. It was while de war was gwine on. Marse Johnnie had come back from Virginia, on a furlough for ten days. Old Marse John come to see him and fetch Rev. Mr. Cartledge wid him. People was pow'ful consarned 'bout 'ligion 'long 'bout dat time. Me and all de little slave boys jined dat time and dere was a little boy name Ike, a slave of old Doctor John Douglas, dat jined. Him was just 'bout my age, seven or eight years old. After him jined, him wanna back out of goin' down into de water. Dat evenin', after dinner, us was all dressed in a kind of white slip-over gown for de occasion. When it come Ike's time to receive de baptism, him was led by his mammy, by de hand, to de edge of de water and his hand given to de preacher in charge, who received him. Then he commenced: 'On de confession——'. 'Bout dat time little Ike broke loose, run up de bank, and his mammy and all de slaves holler: 'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old Marse John holler: 'Ketch him!' They ketch little Ike and fetch him back to old Marse John and his mammy. Marse John explain to him dat it better to have water in de nose, now, than fire in de soul forever after. Little Ike say nothin'. His mammy take his hand and lead him to de preacher de same way her did befo'. Little Ike went down into de water. Preacher take him but when little Ike got down under dat water, de preacher lose de hold and bless God, in some way little Ike got 'twixt and 'tween de preacher's legs and comin' out behind him, turnt him sommersets and climb out on de bank a runnin'. Little Ike's mammy cry out: 'Ketch him! Ketch him!' Old marster say: 'No let him go to de devil. Thank de Lord him none of our niggers anyhow. Him just one of Dr. Douglas' Presbyterians niggers dat's destined to hell and be damned, I reckon."

Project #1655 W.W. Dixon Winnsboro, S.C.

JESSE WILLIAMS EX-SLAVE 83 YEARS OLD.

At the end of one of the silent streets of west Chester, S.C., that prolongs itself into a road leading to the Potter's Field and on to the County Poorhouse, sets a whitewashed frame cottage. It has two rooms, the chimney in the center providing each with a fireplace. A porch, supported by red cedar posts, fronts the road side. In this abode lives Jesse Williams with his daughter, Edna, and her six children. Edna pays the rent, and is a grenadier in the warfare of keeping the wolf from the door.

"You say I looks pretty old? Well, you's right 'bout de old part but I's far 'way from de pretty part. I got a hand glass in my house and when I shaves on Sunday mornin's, I often wonders who I is. I doesn't look lak me. My best friend couldn't say I got much on looks, but my old dog rap his tail on de floor lak he might say so, if him could speak.

"I's been off and on dese streets of Chester for eighty-three years. I was born a slave of Marse Adam C. Walker and my old miss was Mistress Eliza, dat's his wife.

"My pappy name Henry and mammy name Maria. I can see them plowin' in de field right now. Mammy plowin' same as pappy and me runnin' 'long behind, takin' de dirt off de cotton plants where de twister plow turnt de clods on de plants. Then, when dat cotton field git white and red wid blooms in summer and white agin in de fall, I have to shoulder my poke and go to de field and pick dat cotton. I 'members de fust day dat I pick a hundred pounds. Marse Adam pull out a big flat black pocket-book and gived me a shinplaster, and say: 'Jesse, ever time your basket h'ist de beam of de steelyards to 100, you gits a shinplaster.' I make eighty cents dat year but I have to git up when de chickens crow for day and git in de field when de dew was heavy on de cotton. Does I think dat was cheatin'? Oh, no sir! I wasn't 'ceivin' old marster. Him wink at dat, and take a pound off for dew. I'd a made more money but they took me out de field in November, to drive de mules to de hoss-gin. Dat was play work, just a settin' up dere and poppin' de whip.

"Marster live in a big two-story, eight-room house. De kitchen was out from de house. After Christmas, dat year, I was house boy and drive de buggy for Miss Eliza when her want to go visitin'. I was fed well and spent my money for a knife, candy, and firecrackers.

"My marster and missus have chillun. They was Peter, Jerry, Miss Elnora, and Miss Sallie, dat I play wid in slavery time.

"De Yankees didn't come as far up as Chester. They branched off down 'bout Blackstock, took de sunrise side of dat place and march on 'cross Catawba River, at Rocky Mount. I stay on wid Marse Adam and Miss Eliza, after freedom. I marry a handsome gal. Yes, sir, she dark but not too shady. I harks back to them days, as I sets here in dis rocker a talkin' to you. Did I tell you her name? Her name just suit her. Not Jane, Polly, Mag, Sallie, and de lak of dat! Them was too common for her. Her name Catherine, dat just fit her. Us have ten chillun and her and all them 'cept me and three chillun done gone over to Jordan. Dere was just one thing 'bout Catherine dat I's dubious 'bout. She lak to dance, and I was too clumsy for to ever cut a double shuffle. I 'spect I cut a poor figure at de frolics us went to. Does you think burnin' a candle for her would do any good at dis late day? Why I ask you dat? Well, I has heard them say dat white folks does dat sometimes for deir gone-on ones. My daughter, Edna say: 'It might do you good and it could do mama no harm.' I b'longs to Mount Moriah Church in dis very town of Chester. De preacher am Rev. Alexander. He 'low it was superstition to burn dat candle but if I live I's gwine to light one nex' Christmas.

"Us had a good marster and mistress. They was big buckra, never 'sociate wid poor white trash. They wore de red shirt. De time come 'round when they send me to Marse Will Harden and he pass me on to go see Marse Judge Mackey, who live here then. Did I know Judge Mackey? Sho' I did! While he was a settin' up dere on de bench in de court house, he have all de people laughin'. One time de father of Marse W.B. Lindsey beat up a Radical nigger and de case come up befo' him for trial. Great 'citement 'bout it, over de whole county. Court house packed dat day. Solicitor rise and say: 'Please your honor, de 'fendant, Lindsey, put in a plea of guilty.' You might have heard a breast feather of a chicken fall, so very still was de people in dere, though de niggers and 'publicans was a grinning wid joy. Then Judge Mackey 'low: 'Let de 'fendant stand up.' Wid a solemn face and a solemn talk, him wound up wid: 'Derefore, de court sentence you to de State Penitentiary at hard labor for a period of ten years (Then him face light up, as he conclude), or pay a fine of one dollar!' De white folks holler: 'Three cheers for Judge Mackey!' De judge git up and bow, and say: 'Order in de court.' As dere was no quiet to be got, clerk 'journed de court. De judge take his silk beaver hat and gold headed cane and march out, while de baliffs holler: 'Make way! Make way for de honorable judge!' Everybody took up dat cry and keep it up long as de judge was on de streets. Oh, how dat judge twirl his cane, smile, and strut.

"Did I ever see a spirit? 'Spect I has and I sho' have felt one more than once. 'Spect I was born wid a caul over my eyes. When de last quarter of de moon come in de seventh month of a seventh year, is de most time you see spirits. Lyin' out in de moon, befo' daybreak, I's smelt, I's heard, I's seed and I's felt Catherine's spirit in de moon shadows. I come nigh ketchin' hold of her one night, as I wake up a dreamin' 'bout her but befo' I could set up, I hear her pass 'way, through de treetops dat I was layin', dreamin' under.

"Then another time, I was settin' here 'bout four o'clock in de moonlight a lookin' 'cross de street to de town hall. I see sumpin' rise and jump upon dat rock a lyin' dere 'ginst de town hall. It was de figger of a man. Who it was I don't know, though they de call de rock de 'Aaron Burr Rock', 'cause he made a speech standin' on dat rock, long befo' I was born. De people in de library can tell you 'bout dat speech. Maybe Dr. Lathan tell you 'bout it. Him ninety-five years old dis last past twelfth day of May and knows all 'bout de days dat are gone.

"I live wid my daughter, Edna, and I just can make it back dere from de post office every day."

Code: Folk-Lore Project 1885 -1- District #4 Spartanburg, S.C. May 26, 1937

FOLK-LORE: EX-SLAVES

Aunt Mary Williams stated she remembered slavery times, for she was a girl large enough to walk four miles to go to work "while slavery was on". She said Mr. Alfred Brown used to own her mother, but she was raised by Mrs. Margaret Taylor who used to live where the oil mill is now, below Arkwright Mills. Her father was owned by Mr. Simpson Bobo and drove his horse for him. She stated she was a good hoe-hand, but didn't pick cotton, as Mr. Brown didn't raise any cotton, just raised something to eat.

She said her master was a kind man, didn't allow any "paterollers" on his place, yet she had seen other slaves on other plantations with bloody backs and arms from the whippings they got. When asked why they were whipped, she replied, "Just because their masters could whip them; they owned them and could do what they wanted to them". Her master didn't allow any whipping on his place. One time he kept a slave from another plantation who was fleeing the "paterollers" on his place and in his own house until he was set free.

"I'se got the looking glasses and the thimble my great-grandmother used to use when she worked. She was a good weaver and a good sewer. She made a man an overcoat once, but didn't get but $1.25 for it; she made a pair of men's breeches and got fifty cents for making them. They didn't get nothing for making clothes in those days".

She remembered when the Yankee soldiers came into Spartanburg. She said they took all they could get, stole something to eat, just went into the stores and took liquor and handed it out drink by drink to the other soldiers. Aunt Mary stated she saw Abe Lincoln when he came through Spartanburg; said he was armed himself and had soldiers all around him. He told the colored folks who seemed scared of him that he wasn't going to hurt anybody, not to be scared of him. (Here she must have confused Lincoln with some one else, probably Colonel Palmer, who commanded a detachment in pursuit of Jefferson Davis, which stopped over-night in Spartanburg in April, 1865. FK.)

SOURCE: Aunt Mary Williams, 391 Cudd St., Spartanburg, S.C. Interviewer: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C.

Project 1655 Genevieve W. Chandler Georgetown County, S.C.

FOLKLORE

EX-SLAVE STORY UNCLE WILLIS WILLIAMS

"When wuz I born? Born in August. When I wuz born been August. I wuz a man grown pulling boxes, (turpentine boxes) when the shake wuz. I know the very night the shake come——on a Wednesday night. I wuz on door step loosing my shoe string. There wuz more religion then than they is now. Praying and prayer meeting for a month. Everybody tend meeting.

"I been with the Yankee. I kin tell you bout the Yankee. They come home there to Rock Creek when the war wuz breaking up and carried me to Fayetteville. (N.C.) Kept me with 'em till Johnson surrendered in Raleigh,——then they kept me in Goldsboro and took me on to Petersburg. After everything over they give me free transportation back home. Free on train back to Fayetteville. They had put all the Yankee clothes on me,——all the blue shirt, blue coat and bumps on the shoulder,—and when they start me home took all the Yankee clothes way from me. Put gray clothes on me and sent me back. I member they took me up in a way-up-yonder building—to Richmond. Couldn't tell you the depth of it. Man on the ground looked like boy.

"The man I belonged to been Mass John A. Williams. (Born on the Cape Fear.) I goes by Mass John name—Williams. His sons been John, James, Charlie, Wallis, William, James. James come home from army sick. Had the mumps; thirty days furlough.

"Member when the Yankees come. Been Sunday morning. Ride up to the gate on horses. Old Boss happened to come out and walk to the lot. I happened to be at gate. They took his watch out his pocket, his pistol—had it girded to him—and took all he whiskey and catch chickens and guinea and take them all. Then they gone in the lot and took two breeding mares and hitch them in wagon and loaded wagon full o' corn. Then they took the two carriage horses and hitched to carriage, and gone to smoke-house, and fill that carriage full of all Mass John sides of meat and ham and shoulders. I been following and watching to see what all they going to take, and a soldier looked at me and say,

"'Come on little Nigger! Wanter go?'

"And I done like another fool! I rode off behind the two brood mares, on the corn, and where they rested that night, I rested right there.

"It was mighty cold up there. I suffered a heap in the cold fore I got back home. They give me a horse,—saddled and bridled,—and a little bayonet gun. Put me on that horse to drive cattle. Tell me to take all I see. Didn't except nobody cattle. Night come put 'em in pasture—put 'em in anybody field—on the oats, rye, wheat.

"Sometimes rain sho fall.—Had to tend that bunch of cattle rain or no rain. Didn't kill one beef and stop! (Kill) FOUR beeves a day. Go out git the hog and kill 'em. Skin 'em. Didn't scald 'em and clean 'em like we do. Just eat the ham. Rest throw way. Gone to Wilmington, Fayetteville, Rookfish and Beaver Creek.

"General Sherman? Has I hear bout him? I SEEN him! He had a big name but he warn't such a big man; he was a little spare made man. I member now when I seed him the last time. He had two matched horses going down to Petersburg. Six guards riding by the side of his turnout. Oh my God, what clothes he had on! He was dressed down in finest uniform.

"When I leave the Yankee they give me $35.00 in money. I been so fool had never seen no green back. Throwed it away eating crackers and peanuts. And I bought some brogan shoes. If I'd a helt on to that, I'd a been some body today.

"I members it was Sunday morning that General Johnson throwed up his hand at Raleigh. Done with the war!

"Before Freedom I have a good enough time. Just lay round the house and wait on my boss. When Freedom come and I did have to get out and work it most kill me!

"After Freedom my mother wash for family to Beaver Creek. And after Freedom my father went to working on shares. Old Maas John called 'em up and tell 'em,

"'You free, Asa. You free, Lewis. You free, Handy. You free, Wash. You can do as you please. You have to fadge for yourself now.'

"Mass John Williams had four hundred slaves. He was a man had the colored people. He didn't work all on his own plantation. He'd hire out his people to work turpentine.——Put 'em out for so much a year. He'd give 'em blanket, suit, coat, pants. First of the year come, Boss would collect wages for all he hire out.

"That there my second wife. You know how a man is. How many wife I had? Two or three. Lemme see! (Looking at present wife) You is one! You the last one! Fust one been Jinny Lind. Next one been Mary Dickson. And Caressa Pyatt been one! And there been another one! I forgot that woman name! Got it in my mouth and can't call it! I'll call the name of them others I take up with in a little while! One was Caline; one was Tissue; (Tisha?) I take them a little while and if they didn't do to suit me, I put 'em out! Some I didn't stay with long nuff to find out they name! Jinny Lind sister was Tissue. Jinny Lind gone, try her sister. Just a 'make out'. If they didn't do to suit me, I'd give 'em the devil and put 'em out.

"Don't know bout beating woman. Some say that bout,

"But some woman, the more you beat 'em the worse the devil gets in 'em. Get so they won't 'GEE' nor 'HAW'.

"When I was house boy for old Mass John, waiting on white people, that was the best and easiest time I ever had. Ever Satdy drive Mass John to Fayetteville. Ever Satdy they'd think that store belong to me! I'd eat lumps of brown sugar out the barrel, candy, crackers. Did as I please then; NOW do as I kin!

"'Ways of woman and ways of snake deeper than the sea!' I take that to mean——mighty few can tell by the trail of a snake whether its coming or going——

"I hear story bout the rabbit and the fox—all them old things—Some times my mind franzy. Been break up too much! Break two ribs to the lumber mill. Jump out a cart one day and run a ten penny nail through my foot. That lay me up two months. Some mean people ketch me up by that tree yonder with a car and that lay me up sixty-five days. They pick me up for dead that time. All that make my mind get franzy sometimes. Come and go—Come and go."

SOURCE: Uncle Willis Williams. Age, 89 to 90 years old. Conway, S.C. (Horry County).

Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 May 25, 1937

Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"I was a Garmany before I married Calvin Wilson. My father was Henry Garmany, and my mother Sidney Boozer. My husband was in the Confederate army with his master. Dey was near Charleston on de coast. I was slave of Lemuel Lane, of de Dutch Fork. He was killed after de war, some say by some of his young slaves, but we'uns did not know naything about who killed him. We had a good house to live in on Marse Lane's plantation. I used to work around the house and in de fields. My mother was a good seamstress and helped de white folks sew, and she learn't me to sew had help too. We didn't get any money for our work. One time after de war, dey paid me only $5.00 and I quit 'em. My mother hired me out to work for her, and I didn't have any money, still; so I said I better get me a man of my own. Marse Lane was mean to most of us, but good to me. He whipped me once and I deserved it because I wouldn't answer him when he called me. He jes' give me about two licks. He was mean to my mother, but he wouldn't let his white overseer whip us, and wouldn't let de padder-rollers come around. He said he could look-out for his own slaves.

"We didn't learn to read and write, but some of de white folks had learned my mother, and she learned me some.

"Niggers had to go to church at New Hope, de white folks' church, in slavery time and after de war too. We had Saturday afternoons to do what we wanted, and we washed clothes then.

"On Christmas, Marse would give de slaves some good things to eat and send some to dere families. Niggers had frolics at dere houses sometimes on Saturday nights. When I married, I had a good hot supper.

"Children played all de ole games like, play-ball (throwing over the house), marbles and base.

"Some saw ghosts, but I never saw any of dem.

"Old-time cures was peach tree leaves boiled and drunk for fever; wild cherry bark was good for most anything if took at night. I have used it for curing some things. The best cure I know, is turpentine and a little oil mixed. Swallow it and it will fix you up.

"The Yanks went through our place and took two of the best horses we had. One had a tail that reached the ground. Dey stole lots of victuals. I 'member de Ku Klux wid dere long white sheets, and den de Red Coats wid white breeches. Dey would walk or ride, but dey never harmed us.

"I don't know much about Abe Lincoln, but I reckon he was a good man, and Jeff Davis, too. I don't know Booker Washington but heard he was a good man.

"I joined de church because de white folks did. Dey wants to go to heaven and I do too. I think everybody ought to try to do right. I used to think we could make heaven down here, but if we jes' do right, dats all we can do."

Source: Emoline Wilson (90), Newberry, S.C. Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 21, 1937.

Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 Sept. 22, 1937

Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"I was born in Newberry County near Cannon's Creek section in the Dutch Fork. I was a slave of Lemuel Lane. He was killed by some slaves just after freedom. They killed him for his money but didn't find any, it was said. When freedom come, my mistress give me some things to eat when we left.

"I can't work much any more; I am old and I can't get about. I live with my son who works when he can find work. We rent a two-room cottage in town.

"I never heard anything about slaves getting 40 acres of land and a mule. None in that section got any. We had to go to work for other people.

"The Ku Klux Klan never bothered us then, and we never had nothing to do with them, nor with politics.

"There was no slaves living in our section who had come from Virginia."

Source: Emoline Wilson (90), Newberry, S.C. Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 8/10/37 (See ES IV, MS. #13).

Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 June 15, 1937

Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"I am daughter of Billy Robertson and Louisa Robertson; was born about 77 years ago in Newberry, on Marse Job Johnstone's place. My father lived with Judge Job Johnstone as his extra man or servant. He lived in the house with him, slept in his room and waited on him when he became old; and, too, was the driver of his carriage. He drove him to other courthouses to hold court. After the war, my father was janitor at Newberry College, and he was liked by professors, students, and everybody who knew him as 'Uncle Billy'. At commencement, he always made a speech at night on the campus, which the students enjoyed. He told about his travels from Virginia to Newberry before the war. Judge Johnstone never wanted anybody else to be with him when he traveled.

"I belonged to the Avelleigh Presbyterian Church in Newberry, and was christened in the church by the preacher, the Rev. Buist. Colored people were allowed to be members and set in the gallery when they went to church.

"After the war, a colored man named Amos Baxter was killed by the Ku Klux at the old courthouse. My father was on Judge Johnstone's farm a few miles away. He was sent for and came with another colored man to town, and prayed and preached over the body of Baxter. The Ku Klux came to kill my father for doing this, but they never caught him.

"I had to stay home most of the time and help mama keep house. I never worked in the field but once, and the job was so poor they put me back in the house. That was the old Nance place.

"Once I saw a man hung in Newberry. He was a negro named Thompson and killed a white man named Reid. He killed him at a store in Pomaria and burned it over his body. He was hung near the railroad, and a big crowd was there to see it. That was my first time to see a man hung, and I promised God it would be my last. They asked the negro if he had anything to say, and give him five minutes to talk. He was setting on a box smoking; then he got up and said he reckoned his time was over, he was sorry for all the bad things he had done; that he had killed a boy once for 25 cents, and had killed a little girl for 20 cents. He was sorry for his wife and three weeks old baby. His wife saw him hung.

"The Ku Klux wanted to kill any white people who was Republicans. They killed some negroes. A white man named Murtishaw killed Lee Nance, a store keeper. I was a little girl and saw it. Some little children was standing out in front. Murtishaw came up and said he wanted to buy something or pretended he wanted to; then he went up to Nance, pulled his pistol quick and shot him through the throat and head.

"Judge Johnstone's kitchen was away from the house, a brick building. They had large ovens and wide fireplaces in which they cooked.

"My father's favorite horses, when he drove the family, was 'Knox' and 'Calvin', which they kept for many years. When they died the mistress cried awfully about it.

"My husband died at old Mr. Dan Ward's place, on College Hill, where he was living then."

Source: Jane Wilson (77), Newberry, S.C. Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/9/37)

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, June 11, 1937

MOM GENIA WOODBERRY Ex-Slave, 89 years

"Glad to see yunnah. Who dese udder wid yah? Who yuh? Lawd, I glad to see yunnah. I nu'se aw Miss Susan fust chillun. Ne'er nu'se dem las'uns. Sicily been yo' mamma nu'se. Nu'se Massa Ben Gause child fust en den I nu'se four head uv Miss Susan chillun a'ter she marry Massa Jim Stevenson. Sleep right dere wid dem chillun aw de time. Miss Susan ne'er didn't suckle none uv dem chillun. I tell yunnah dis much, Massa Jim Stevenson was good to aw uv his colored people en Miss Susan wuz good to me. I sho' born right down yonner to Massa Ben Gause plantation. Gade Caesar en Mary Gause wuz my parents. Yas'um, I is glad to see dese chillun cause yuh know whey white folks hab feeling fa yah, it sho' make yuh hab feeling fa dey chillun. I ole now en I can' 'member eve'yt'ing but I ain' ne'er forge' wha' good times dem wuz."

"My Lawd! Yas, my Lawd, de peoples lib well dere to Massa Jim Stevenson plantation. De white folks hab big house dere wid eve'yt'ing 'bout it jes lak uh town. I couldn't tell yunnah how many colored peoples dey hab dere but I know dis, I hear em say dere wuz more den two hundred uv em dat lib in de quarter. Dey house wuz in uh field offen to itself dere on de plantation en wuz strung aw up en down in two long row lak. Dey wuz set up in good libin' den."

"Coase I ain' lib dere in de quarter wid de udder colored peoples a'ter I ge' big 'nough to be nu'se girl, but I know how dey fare dere. My Massa hab uh smoke house full uv meat en uh barn full uv corn aw de time en eve'y Friday a'ternoon aw de colored peoples hadder do wuz to go dere to de big house en ge' dey share uv meat en 'lasses en corn to las' em de whole week. Ne'er hadder worry nuthin 'bout it tall. Dey hab dey gristmill right dere whey dey grind dat corn eve'y week. Yah ain' ne'er see no sech barn en heap uv meat dese days uz dey hab den. Dem hog killin' days wuz big times fa dem plantation peoples. It jes lak I tellin' yunnah my Massa gi'e he colored peoples mos' eve't'ing dey hab en den he 'low eve'y family to hab uh acre uv land uv dey own to plant. Hadder work dat crop in de night. Make light wid fat light'ud stump wha' to see by. Dat crop wha' dey buy dey Sunday clothes wid. Ne'er hadder hunt no clothes but dey Sunday clothes cause dey hab seamstress right dere on de plantation to make aw us udder clothes. Miss Susan larnt Aun' Cynthia en Starrah en Tenna to cut en sew dere to de big house en a'ter dat dey ne'er do nuthin but make de plantation clothes."

"Aw de colored peoples dere to Miss Susan plantation hab dey certain business to go 'bout eve'y day en dey ne'er didn't shirk dat neither. Miss Susan ain' 'low fa no slack way 'round whey she was. Dere been Yaneyki wha' hadder jes wait on Miss Susan; Becky, de house girl; Aun' Hannah, de one wha' cook in de big house; Aun' Dicey, wha' al'ays clean up de white folks kitchen; en Sanco, de house boy. Den I wuz de nu'se dere fa dem chillun. Ne'er lak it but I ha'e it to do. Hadder stay right dere to de big house aw de time. Miss Susan ne'er wouldn't 'low me take dem chillun 'way offen no whey en eve'ybody hadder be mindful uv wha' dey say 'fore dem chillun too. I 'member dat big ole joggling board dere on de front piazza dat I use'er ge' de chillun to sleep on eve'y evenin'. I be dere singin' one uv dem baby song to de child en it make me hu't lak in me bosom to be wid my ole mammy back up dere in de quarter. Coase I ain' le' nobody know dat. Dere ain' nobody ne'er been no better den Miss Susan wuz to me. It jes lak dis, I wuz jes uh child den en yah know it uh child happiness to be raise up wid dey mammy."

"Den de colored peoples lib mighty peaceful lak dere in de quarter cause dey ne'er hadder worry 'bout how nuthin come. My Massa see dat dey hab decent libin' aw de time en 'bundance uv eve't'ing dey need. Hadder keep 'round 'bout dey premises clean up eve'whey. I tellin' yuh, child, my white folks wuz 'ticular uv dey colored peoples when dey wuz sick. Dey hab big ole me'icine book dat dey take down when one uv dem ge' sick en see could dey find wha' wuz good fa dey ailment. Den Miss Susan'ud send in de woods en ge' wha' it say mix up fa de remedy en make de me'icine right dere to de big house. Miss Susan'ud al'ays doctor de plantation peoples en carry em nice basket uv t'ing eve'y time dey wuz sick. Effen Miss Susan t'ink dey hab mucha co'plaint, den dey'ud send fa de plantation doctor 'bout dere. Annuder t'ing dey ne'er didn't 'low de colored girls to work none tall 'fore dey wuz shape lak uh 'oman cause dey 'fraid dat might strain dey ne'ves."

"Aw de colored peoples wha' ne'er hab no work to do 'bout de big house wuz field hand en dey hadder ge' up at de fust crow uv de cock in de morning en go up to de big house en see wha' dey wan' em to do dat day. Coase dey eat dey break'ast 'fore dey leab de quarter. Effen de sun look lak it wuz gwinna shine, de o'erseer'ud send em in de field to work en dey'ud stay in de field aw day till sun up in de evenin'. Carry dey basket uv victual en pot 'long wid em en cook right dere in de field. Jes put dey peas en bacon in de pot en build up big fire 'bout it close whey dey wuz workin' cause eve'y now en den dey hadder push de fire to de pot. Den some uv de day dey'ud go in de tatoe patch en dig tatoe en roast em in de coals. Effen it wuz uh rainy day, dey ne'er go in de field. Shuck corn dat day. Dat wuz how dey done."

"Aw dem wha' work right dere to de big house al'ays wuz fed from Miss Susan table to de kitchen. Dere wuz Gran'mudder Phoebe who hadder look a'ter eve't'ing 'bout Miss Susan dairy. De plantation peoples'ud bring dey gourd eve'y morning en leab it dere to de dairy fa Gran'mudder Phoebe to hab fill wid clabber fa em to carry home in de evenin'. Den when Gran'mudder Phoebe wuz finish wid aw de churning, she use'er pour wha' clabber wuz left o'er in uh big ole wooden tray under uh tree dere close to de dairy en call aw dem little plantation chillun dere whey she wuz. She gi'e eve'yone uv em uh iron spoon en le' em eat jes uz mucha dat clabber uz dey c'n hold. A'ter dat she clean up eve'yt'ing 'bout de dairy en den she go to de big house en ge' her dinner. Gran'mudder Phoebe say she could set down en eat wid sati'faction den cause she know she wuz t'rough wid wha' been her portion uv work dat day."

"Den dere wuz Patience wha' work to de loom house. She help do aw de weaving fa de plantation. Weave aw t'rough de winter en aw t'rough de summer. She make aw kinder uv pretty streak in de cloth outer de yarn dat dey dye right dere on de plantation wid t'ing dat dey ge' outer de woods lak walnut wha' make brown, en cedar en sweet gum wha' make purple. Den dey make de blue cloth outer dat t'ing dat dey raise right dere on de plantation call indigo. Dere some uv dat indigo dat does grow up dere on de Sand Hills dis day en time but ain' nobody ne'er worry 'bout it no more."

"Jes uh little way from de loom house wuz de shoe house whey Uncle Lon'on hadder make shoe aw de day. I 'member dey is make aw de plantation shoe dere. Make em outer cow hide wha' dey hadder tan fust. Jes put de cow hide in uh trough en kiver it aw o'er wid oak en water en le' it soak till de hair come offen it. Den dey take it outer dat en beat it 'cross uh log hard uz dey c'n till dey ge' it right soft lak. A'ter dat ley out de shoe lak dey wan' it en sew it up wid dem long hair wha' dey ge' outer de hosses neck. Dat jes de way dey make aw we shoe den."

"Minus en Chrissus Gause hab job dere to de gin house. Dey'ud jes put de cotton in dat gin en de seed go one way en de lent go de udder way. Minus hadder feed de gin en dem udder helper hadder hand de cotton. Den Bacchus hadder work de screw dat press de bale togedder. Yunnah chillun ain' ne'er see nuthin lak dat dese days. Dem hosses pull dat t'ing round en round en dat screw ge' tighter en tighter. Turn out pretty uh bale uv cotton us yunnah e'er hear 'bout in no time tall. My Lawd, I 'member dey is hab bale uv cotton pile up aw 'bout dat gin house."

"En dey is hab dey own blacksmith shop dere on de place down to de place call de big water. Aw dem peoples from plantation aw 'bout come dere fa Fortune to mend dey plow en t'ing lak dat."

"Yas'um, plantation peoples hadder go dere to de Ole Neck Chu'ch eve'y Sunday. I hear em say dat wuz uh Methodist Chu'ch. Aw dem well to do folks hab dey own pew up dere in de front uv de chu'ch wha dey set on eve'y Sunday. Dey seat wuz painted pretty lak uh bedstead en den de poor peoples set in de middle uv de chu'ch in de yellow kind uv seat. Aw de colored peoples hadder set in de blue seat in de back uv de chu'ch. Peoples ne'er rank togedder den lak yah see de peoples rank togedder dese days. Miss Susan Stevenson en Miss Harriett Woodberry en Miss Maggie McWhite wuz de ones wha' pull togedder den. Know dey chillun time dey hit dat chu'ch door. C'n tell em by dey skin. My blessed, chillun, dere wuz sech uh diffe'ence."

"Dat Ole Neck Chu'ch de same chu'ch wha' yunnah see stand two mile up dat road. Dem peoples oughtna hadder move dat chu'ch neither cause it been dere long time 'fore dey come heah. Ain' been right to do dat. Dem wha' put dat chu'ch dere bury right dere in dat cemetery right 'bout whey dey chu'ch wuz en dem udder peoples ain' hab no right to take dey chu'ch 'way a'ter dey been gone."

"De peoples ne'er hab no cars lak dese peoples hab 'bout heah now. My white folks hab carriage en two big ole white hosses wha' to ride to se'vice en whey dey wanna go den. Coase dey ne'er go aw de time lak dese peoples does dis day en time. Lawd, dem hosses could pull dat carriage too. Dey wuz name Selam en Prince. My Massa en Missus hab seat in de back uv de carriage en I hadder set up dere 'tween dem en de driver en nu'se dem chillun. Isaac wuz Miss Susan driver en he hab seat aw uv he own on de front whey he could mind de hosses. My Lawd, I 'member how I did use'er lub to set up dere in Miss Susan carriage."

"Dese peoples dese days don' know nuthin 'bout dem times den. I 'member how dey use'er sell de colored peoples offen to annuder plantation some uv de time. Man come dere to buy my Gran'mudder a'ter Massa Ben Gause die en tell her to open she mouth so he c'n 'xamine her teeth. Say she say, 'I won' do it.' Wanna know effen dey wuz sound 'fore he buy her. Dat de way dey do when dey sell hosses."

"I 'member when dem Yankees come 'bout dere too. Hear Massa Jim Stevenson say dey mus' herry en hide dey va'uables cause de Yankees wuz comin' t'rough dere en sweep em out. Dey bury dey silver en dey gold watch in de graveyard up in de Beech Field. (De Beech Field wuz de place whey de Indian use'er camp long time ago cause de peoples use'er find aw kinder bead en arrow head wha' dey left dere.) Den Miss Susan put trunk full uv her nice t'ing to de colored peoples house. Ain' been 'fraid de Yankees bother em dere. Didn't no Yankees come no whey 'bout dere till a'ter freedom 'clare en den two uv em come dere en stay right dere to de big house. Dey come to 'vide outer de corn. Hab pile uv corn sot aw 'bout de born (barn) dere wid name uv de colored peoples stick 'bout in eve'y pile."

"Yas'um, I 'member dat aw right. Marry in March dere to my pa house. Us ne'er left Massa Jim Stevenson plantation a'ter freedom 'clare. Ne'er wanna hunt no better libin' den we hab dere. My Lawd, dere sho' wuz big doing 'bout dere when I go' hitch up to Joe Woodberry. Pa kill uh shoat en dey bake cake en hab aw kinder ration cook up. I hab pretty dress make outer white swiss muslin wha' I marry in en aw dem peoples wuz dress up dat evenin'. Dat wuz pretty uh sight uz dere e'er wuz when dey ge' to blowing dat cane en knockin' dem stick en dey aw wuz uh jiggin' 'bout."

"Chillun, seem lak aw de good time gone from heah now. Peoples sho' gotta scuffle fa wha' dey hab dis day en time en den effen dey ge' it, dere ain' no sati'faction no whey 'bout it. T'ing ain' gwinna do nobody no good effen dey gotta worry dey head so mucha 'bout whey de next comin' from."

"Good day, honey. Come back 'g'in. Yunnah white en I black, but I lub yuh."

Source: MOM GENIA WOODBERRY (Eugenia Woodeberry), age 89, colored, Britton's Neck, S.C. (Personal interview, June 1937)

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, November 23, 1937

JULIA WOODBERRY Ex-Slave, Age ____

"Come in, child. Dis ain' nobody talkin to you from behind dat door, but Julia Woodberry. De door unlatch, just turn de handle en come right in here whe' you can warm yourself by de stove. I tell my daughter for her to take de sick child en walk over dere en make Aun' Liney a visit, while I wipe round bout dis stove a little speck. Cose I ain' able to scour none much, but seems like dis old stove does keep everything so nasty up dat I can' let things bout it get too worser. No, child, I tell dese chillun I done seen most all my scourin days, but I think bout I would do this little job for Alexa dis mornin en let her put her mind to dat child. I say, if I able, I loves to wipe up cause it such a satisfaction. It just like dis, dere ain' nothin gwine shine dat floor en make it smell like I want it to, but soap en water. I don' like dese old stoves nohow. I ain' been raise to dem cause when I come up, de olden people didn' think nothin bout puttin no stoves to dey fireplaces. Oh, dey would have dese big old open fireplaces en would have de grandest kind of fires. My Lord, child, dere wouldn' never be no nastiness bout dey fireplace cause de people never didn' burn no coal in dem days. Slavery people been burn dese great big oak logs en dey would make de finest kind of fires, I say. Yes, mam, I been raise up de slavery way en dat how-come I don' want to be noways departin from it."

"Oh, dat was my granddaughter dat had de straw fever. Yes, mam, look like she mendin right smart since she been settin up. De straw fever, dat what I calls it, but I hear people say it de hay fever. De doctor, he just say it de fever, but from de way he give de pills, it point to de straw fever. Cose dat what we termed it, but like I tell you, some calls it de hay fever. I ain' never hear talk of dat kind of fever till dese late years. Yes, mam, she had a little cold en cough some, but not much. You see, when she first took down, she took wid a blindness en a pain in de stomach at de school en couldn' say nothin. De doctor say de fever was bout broke on her den. You see, she had de pain en, I say, dat a sign de misery broke on her. But dat child, she lay dere on dat bed three weeks en she been mighty weak, mighty weak from de fever. No, mam, she ain' have de fever all de time, but dere would come a slow fever dat would rise on her every night en eat up what strength she had caught durin de day. Cose she ain' never been hearty cause she been havin dis fever long bout two years. No, mam, she been test for de T.B.'s in de school dis last year en dey say dat she never had none of dat. Alexa say she gwine let her get dem shots in time next year. All de school chillun took dem last year. Dey tell me dat be to keep diseases down in school. Cose I don' know nothin bout it cause I been raise de slavery way en dat won' de talk den.

"My mother, she was a freeborn woman. She come from off de sea beach in our own country. Her people was dese Chee Indians en she didn' have no ways like dese other people bout here. Now, I talkin out of her. Ain' talkin out of nobody else, but her. She told me she was born on de sea beach en her parents was Chee Indians. Dat what she told us chillun. Say, when dey stole her en her brother John, dey come dere in dese big old covered wagons en dey stuffed dem way back up in dere en carried dem off. Oh, she say, she was a big girl when dey run her down en caught her. Like I tell you, I talkin out of her. Her en her brother John was out playin one day, near their sea beach home, en first thing dey know, dere come one of dem big old covered wagons dere. Say, dey never know what to think till dey see dis white man gettin down off de wagon en start makin for dem en dey get scared cause dey been learn white man won' no friend. Say, dey broke en run, but de man come right after dem en grabbed dem up wid his hands en stuffed dem way back up in de covered wagon en drove off. She say, she was runnin hard as she could from de man. I remember, I heard my mother speak bout dat she didn' reckon her mother ever knew whe' dey went. She say, dey cried en cried, but dat never do no good. No, mam, de lawyer Phillips stole her. He didn' buy her cause she told me dey brought dem right on to his home en put dem out dere. Her en her brother John were made house servants in de big house en dey went from one to de other in de Phillips' family till after freedom come here. Ma, she say dat she fared good en dey didn' ill treat her no time, but wouldn' never allow dem to get out de family no more durin slavery days. No, mam, she never didn' have no hard time comin up. Cose she had to put de white people chillun to bed at night en den she could go to parties cross Catfish much as she wanted to, but she would have to be back in time to cook dat breakfast next mornin. You see, dey was house servants en dey stayed right dere in de lawyer Phillips' house all de time. Been raise right down dere in dat grove of cedars cross from de jail."

"Well, she didn' say bout dat. No, mam, she didn' have no word bout whe' if she liked de white folks livin or no when she first come dere. You know, when you in Rome, you has to do as Rome do. Reckon dat de way de poor creature took it. No, child, she didn' tell us nothin bout her home no more den dat she was born a Chee Indian. Yes, mam, my blessed old mother told me dat a thousand times."

"My God, my God, child, I couldn' never forget my old mother's face. She bore a round countenance all de time wid dese high cheek bones en straight hair. I talkin out of her now. Yes, mam, can see Ma face dere fore my eyes right now. It de blessed truth, my old mother didn' have no common ways bout her nowhe'. I don' know whe' it true or no, but de people used to say I took after my mother. I recollects, when I would be workin round de white folks, dey would ax me how-come I been have dem kind of way bout me what was different from de other colored people. You know, de Indians, dey got curious ways. My mother, she wouldn' never take a thing from nobody en she was sharp to pick a fight. Yes, mam, she was quick as dat. (Slaps her hands together.) Been fast gettin insulted. Anybody make her mad, she would leave away from dem en dey wouldn' see her no more in a month or two. Hear boss say dat she was quick tempered."

"Well, child, dat bout all I can know to speak bout dis mornin. You see, some days I can get my 'membrance back better den I can on another day. I say, I gwine get my mind fixed up wid a heap to tell you de next time you come here en if you ain' come back, I gwine try en get round dere to your house. God bless you, honey."

Source: Julia Woodberry, Ex-Slave, Age 70-80, Marion, S.C. Personal interview by Annie R. Davis, Nov., 1937.

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, November 30, 1937

JULIA WOODBERRY Ex-Slave, Age ____

"Oh, my God a mercy, child, dat been a time when dat shake come here. I tell you, dat been somethin. I sho remember all bout dat cause I been a grown woman de year dat earthquake come here. Yes, mam, I gwine tell it to you just like I experience it. We had all just been get over wid us supper en little things dat night en I had washed Auntie en Mr. Rowell's feet for dem to lie down en dere come such a sketch of clouds from over in dat direction dat I never know what to make of it. Auntie en Mr. Rowell never know what to make of it neither. I remember, I run out to help my sister dat been out to de paddlin block en, honey, you ain' never live to see no black cloud like dat been. I washed a piece through en den I left off en went back in de house en set down by de fire to dry my feet. I set dere awhile en seems like somethin just speak right out de fire, bout dat time, en tell me to move my feet dat I was in bad shape. En, child, it de truth of mercy, dere come a big clog of dirt out dat chimney en drap (drop) right down in de spot whe' my foot was. I run to Auntie en Mr. Rowell to see could dey tell what dat was, but dey been in just as much darkness as I been. I look up en seems like de loft had lowered itself en could hear a roarin for miles en miles bout dere en could hear de people hollerin every which a way. Yes, mam, could hear dem hollerin miles en on top of miles bout dere. My God, dem people was scared to lie down dat night en such a prayin en a shoutin as everybody do dat night, I ain' never see de like fore den. Ain' see de like since den neither. Next mornin, I go to work for de white folks en dey all go off dat mornin en I tell you, I was scared bout to death in dat big house by myself. I remember, I left out de house en been out in de 'tatoe patch grabblin 'tatoes right along en when I raise up, dat thing was comin down dat 'tatoe row just a whirlin en a makin right for me. Yes, mam, I been so scared. I ain' see whe' I is grow a bit since de shake. I tell you, I thought it was de Jedgment. Den we hear dere was gwine be another earthquake, but de people get on dey knees en dey stay on dey knees en it never come here dat time. Dat one was in another state, so dey tell me. I hear talk dat all de earth caved in en you could see de people down dere, but couldn' nobody get dem. Some people say dat been de devil do dat, but I tell dem de devil ain' had no such power. De Lord been de power dat bring dat shake here, I say."

"Oh, Lord, de people sho fared better in dat day en time den dey do dese days. Cose dey didn' have a heap of different kind of trashy things like dey have dese days, but dey had a plenty to eat en a plenty to wear all de time en den everything was better in dem times, too. Now, I speak bout what I know bout. De rations eat better en de cloth wear better, too, in dem days den dey do now. You see, mostly, de people would make dey own provisions at home. White folks would raise abundance of hogs en cows to run all dey big plantation from one year to de other. Wouldn' never clear out of meat no time cause de stock been let loose to run at large in dem days. De most dat dey bought was dey sugar en dey coffee, but dem what was industrious en smart, dey made most dey victuals at home. Made dey own rice en winnowed it right dere home. Oh, dey had one of dese pestle en mortar to beat it out. Yes, mam, de pestle been big at one end an little at de other end. Den dey would raise turkeys en geese en chickens en dere wasn' no end to de birds en squirrels en rabbits en fish in dat day en time. Dat is, dem what cared for demselves, dey had all dem things. Cose dere was some den like dere be now dat been too lazy to work en dey hand was empty all de time. I remember, dem poorbuckras would just go bout from one house to another en catch somethin here, dere en yonder."

"Den de people never wore none of dese kind of clothes like de people wear dese days neither. When a person got a dress den, dey made it demselves en dey made dey own underskirts den, too. You see, all dese underskirts en bloomers like de people does buy dese days, dey didn' have nothin like dat den. Used to put 10 yard in a dress en 10 yards in a underskirt en would tuck dem clean up to dey waist. En, child, when dey would iron dat dress, it would stand up in de floor just like dere been somebody in it. When I say iron, I talkin bout de people would iron den, too. Yes, mam, when I come along, de people been take time to iron dey garments right. Oh, dey clothes would be just as slick as glass. Won' a wrinkle nowhe' bout dem. Another thing, dey used to have dese dove colored linen dusters dat dey would wear over dey dress when dey would ride to church. Den when dey went in de church, dey would pull dem off en put dem on again when dey started home. Dey was made sort of like a coat suit, except dey was a little fuller en would come clean down to de tail of de dress. You see, dey was meant to protect de dress while dey was gwine along de road."

"De world sho gwine worser dese days, honey. Oh, Lord, de people worser. Yes, mam, dey worser, I say. Dey ain' got de mother wit. Dey weaker en dey wiser, I say, but dey ain' got de mother wit. Can' set down en talk to de people dese days en dey take dat what you got to say in like dey used to. En de people don' take de time to teach de chillun to know good things like dey used to en dat how-come dey have more time to get in so much of devilment dese days. Yes, mam, de people used to have more chillun en dey raised dem, too. Chillun know more den grown people do dese days, I say. People used to know how to carry demselves en take care of demselves more den dey do now. Seems like, de people more rattlin en brazen den what dey used to be."

Source: Julia Woodberry, colored, Marion, S.C.—Age, 70-80. Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 1937.

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, November 5, 1937

JULIA WOODBERRY Ex-Slave, Age ____

"Well, I can speak bout what I used to hear my auntie en my mammy en my grandmammy talk bout what happen in dey day, but I never didn' live in slavery time. My mammy, she been broke her leg long time fore freedom come here en I remember she tell me often times, say, 'Julia, you didn' lack much of comin here a slavery child.' Honey, I mean she been in de family way right sharp fore freedom come here.

"My mammy, she was raise right down dere to de other side de jail to de 'Cedars'. You know dere whe' all dem cedars round dat house what bout to fall down. She belong to de lawyer Phillips dere en he wouldn' never allow her to get out de family. She had been a free woman fore he had stole her off de sea beach to be his house woman. Yes, mam, stole my mammy en uncle John, too, off de sea beach, but uncle John went back after freedom come here. My mammy, she been raise from just a child to be de house woman dere to de lawyer Phillips en she never didn' know nothin bout choppin cotton till her last baby been bout knee high.

"I remember how my mammy used to tell me bout dat de colored people won' allowed to go from one plantation to another widout dey had a 'mit (permit) from dey Massa. Yes, mam, all de niggers had to have dat strip somewhat bout dem to keep from gettin a beatin. Couldn' leave dey home widout showin dat 'mit from dey Massa. You see, de nigger men would want to go to see dey wives en dey would have to get a 'mit from dey Massa to visit dem. Cose dey wouldn' live together cause dey wives would be here, dere en yonder. It been like dis, sometimes de white folks would sell de wife of one of dey niggers way from dey husband en den another time, dey would sell de husband way from dey wife. Yes, mam, white folks had dese guard, call patroller, all bout de country to catch en whip dem niggers dat been prowl bout widout dat strip from dey Massa. I remember I hear talk dey say, 'Patroller, Patroller, let nigger pass.' Dey would say dat if de nigger had de strip wid dem en if dey didn' have it, dey say, 'Patroller, Patroller, cut nigger slash.'"