Chapter X: Part 10

"Gracie Wright was my Ma's name 'fore she tuk off and married my Pa. He was named Tuggle, and both of 'em belonged to Marse Hamp McWhorter on his plantation down in Oglethorpe County. Marse Hamp was sho' a rich man and on his big old plantation dey raised evvything dey needed lak, peas, 'tatoes, ingons, collards, cabbages, and turnip sallet, beans, punkins, and plenty of corn, wheat and rye. Marse Hamp had lots of cows, hogs, sheep, and goats too. Miss Liza was our Mist'ess, and she raised more chickens dan dey ever could use. I just tells you, my white folks warn't no pore folks.

"I was born and raised up right dar. Ma wukked in de fields, and Mist'ess brung me up in de big house 'cause she said I was gwine to have to wait on her when she got old. Dare was sho' a moughty big lot of slave chillun a-comin' on all de time and Marster and Mist'ess was good as dey could be to all of 'em. Marster and Mist'ess had seben chillun. Deir boys was William, Joe, James, and Mack. Miss Tildy and Miss Mary was two of deir gals, but I just can't ricollect de name of deir oldest daughter.

"Whilst us was little, slave chillun didn't have much wuk to do. De littlest ones just picked up trash when de yards was bein' cleant up and done easy jobs lak dat.

"Marse Hamp never fooled wid dem little one track stores at Maxeys, de town nighest our plantation. When he needed somepin', he just cotch a train and lit out for 'Gusty (Augusta), Georgie. Mist'ess knowed when he was comin' back, and she allus sont de car'iage to meet him. When us chillun seed 'em gittin' out de car'iage and hosses, us didn't wait, us just lit out and when dat train got to de crossin' all of us was right dar a-waitin' to see our Marster step off. Den us followed dat car'iage down de big road plum back to de plantation, 'cause us knowed Marster never forgot none of us. Dere was new dresses for de gals and clothes for de boys too, and us felt moughty proud when us dressed up in dem store bought clothes f'um 'Gusty. Chilluns' evvy day clothes was just slips cut all in one piece, sleeves and all. Boys wore long shirts 'til dey was big and strong enough for field wuk. Clothes for de grown folks was made out of cloth wove in de loom house right dar on de plantation, but dere was some beaded cloth too.

"Us sho' did have a pretty place. De big house was painted white, and dere was big old yards wid lots of flowers. De slave quarters was white too. Dey was one room cabins built in long rows, way off f'um de big house. Home-made beds was nailed to de wall and had just two laigs, and de big ticks stuffed wid straw made dem beds moughty good places to sleep.

"Most of de slaves et at de two long tables close by de kitchen up nigh de big house. De kitchen warn't built on to de big house, but hit sot out in de yard a little piece. Dat's de way evvybody had deir kitchens built dem days. Marster kept a big strong man to do de cookin' for his slaves. Pa was de boss for Marse Hamp. I don't 'member much 'bout him. My brother stayed in de cabin wid Pa and Ma, but I was all time up at de big house wid Mist'ess. She was good to me as she could be. She told me to allus do right and never do no wrong to nobody. I had a little highup cheer what I sot in to keep de flies off of Mist'ess.

"All de slaves went to church wid deir white folks, and sot in de back part of de meetin' house. Us went to old Beard (Baird) Church, off out in de country, and sometimes I had to take de littlest white chilluns out and stay in de car'iage wid 'em, if dey got too restless inside de meetin' house. Out dar in de car'iage us could listen to de singin' and it sho' did sound sweet. Meetin' days was big days. Dey fetched deir dinners and stayed all day. De McWhorter family allus carried great big baskets, and one of deir biggest baskets was kept special just to carry chickens in, and de barbecue, it was fixed right dar on de church grounds. Slave gals sot de long tables what was built out under de trees, and dem same gals cleant up atter evvybody had done got thoo' eatin'. Niggers et atter de white folks, but dere was allus a plenty for all. Little Niggers kept de flies off de tables by wavin' long branches kivvered wid green leafs for fly brushes. Some few of 'em brung home-made paper fly brushes f'um home. Most of dem all day meetin's was in July and August. Some folks called dem months de 'vival season, 'cause dere was more 'vival meetin's den dan in all de rest of de year. De day 'fore one of dem big baptizin's dey dammed up de crick a little, and when dey gathered 'round de pool next day dere was some tall shoutin' and singin'. White preachers done all de preachin' and baptizin'.

"Somehow I don't 'member much 'bout de celebratin' when dey got in de wheat and done de thrashin'. Dey was so busy wid de cotton 'bout dat time on our place dat dere warn't much frolickin', but de sho' nuff big celebratin' was in de fall atter all de corn was gathered and dey had cornshuckin's. Marse Hamp 'vited all de white folks and deir Niggers. De white folks visited and de Niggers done de wuk. De fust thing dey done at cornshuckin's was to 'lect a gen'ral. All he done was to lead de singin' and try to git evvybody to jine in his song 'bout de corn, and as dey sung faster, de shucks dey flew faster too. Atter de corn was all shucked, dey et de big feast what us had done been cookin' for days and days. Hit tuk a passel of victuals, 'cause dem shuckers could sho' hide 'way dem good eats. Den de fiddlers started up deir music wid =Turkey in de Straw=. De old breakdown dancin' was on, and hit was apt to go on all night.

"Syrup makin' time at Marse Hamp's was a frolic too. Us raised plenty of sugar-cane to make dat good old 'lasses what tasties so good wid hoecake and home-made butter.

"Atter de War, Ma and Pa stayed on wid Marse Hamp a long time. Mist'ess died when I was just a little chile, but she had done willed me to Miss Mary and told her to allus take keer of Hailie. Miss Mary stayed right on dar wid Marse Hamp. My Ma and Pa had done left, and I ain't never heared nothin' more f'um 'em since dey went away f'um Marse Hamp's place.

"Den Marster he done went and got kilt. He had rid off on a middle size pony what must a runned away wid him, 'cause dey found him plumb daid in a ditch. It was all so sudden lak us never could find out if he died happy. Us knowed Mist'ess died happy 'cause she told de folks 'round de bed dat de Lord was a-takin' her home out of dis old world of trouble.

"Atter Marse Hamp died, Miss Mary married Marse Pleaze Winter, and us all moved to Flatwoods, what warn't so fur f'um Marse Jim Smith's place. I 'members when dat Smith man died. Dey buried him in de graveyard on his own plantation at fust, but den dey said nobody didn't want to live dar atter he was buried dar, so dey tuk him up and buried him somewhar else.

"I didn't lak to live at Flatwoods, but I stayed on wid my Miss Mary and nussed her chillun 'til me and Joe Jewel got married. Joe was named atter his old Marster, Captain Joseph Jewel, and dey lived on de Jewel place in Oglethorpe County. I never did keer much for fine clothes and Miss Mary said what clothes I had was all right, but she just would give me a nice white weddin' dress. She had us git married at her house, and she 'vited lots of mine and Joe's folks and our friends to a big supper she had fixed for us. Miss Mary sho' did give me a grand send off. Atter dat, I visited my Miss Mary whenever I wanted to, and still helped her wid her babies when she needed me.

"Miss Mary is done daid now, but if she was a livin' old Hailie would have what she needs. I'm a gittin' moughty old now and my old man is done gone on to glory, but Hailie will soon be wid him dar. Whilst I did go and git married to a Jewel, I ain't forgittin' I was borned and bred a McWhorter, and I'm here to tell you dat I'm still just de same--a McWhorter."

BENJAMIN JOHNSON EX-SLAVE

Following is Benjamin Johnson's own account of some of his experiences as a slave and of conditions on his plantation.

"On our plantation de white folks been feedin' de slaves off fat meat, jowls, an' heads an' jaws. Dey kept all de meat out in de smoke house in de back yard. In dis house dey kept de hams all hangin' up high an' above dem dey kept de sausages and den above dem dey kept de finest hams all trimmed an' everything. De slaves eat dat fat meat an' thought dat dey wus eatin' pound cake. Come down to chicken--if you got it you stole it when de white folks wus sleep at night an' den you had to be careful an' bury all de feathers in de groun' 'cause if you burned 'em de white folks would smell 'em. We boys in de fiel' used to be so hungry 'till we didn't know what to do. De overseer would be settin' down under a tree an' he would holler 'keep goin.' De sweat would be jes' running' off you and sometimes you could smell one another.

"Dere wus a spring nearby an' when we would git to it we would fall down an' drink fum de branch. De women would be plowin' an' hoein' grain an' de spanish needles an' cockle burrs would be stickin' to dere dresses fum dere knees to dere feet. Further down dere would be a man diggin' a ditch. Every now an' den white folks would walk over to de ditch an' see if it wus de same width all de way."

"You go off to see somebody at night--jes' like you an' me want to laff an' talk--an' if dey ketch an' you ain't got no pass den dey gwine to whup you. You be glad to git away too 'cause when dey hit you, you wus hit. I wus down to ol' John Brady's place one night talkin' to a lady an' ol' man Brady slipped up behin' me an' caught me in de collar an' he say: "Whut you doin' over here?--I'm goin' to give you twenty-five lashes" an' den he say to me: "come here". He wus jes' bout as tall as I am an' when I got to 'im he say turn 'roun' and' I say to 'im dat I ain't doin' nuthin' an' den he say: "dats whut I'm goin to whup you fer 'cause you ought to be home doin' sumpin'. 'Bout dat time when I stooped over to take off my coat I caught 'im in his pants an' throwed 'im in a puddle o' water an' den I lit out fer home. If you git home den dey couldn't do nuthin' to you. He tried to chase me but he did'nt know de way through de woods like I did an he fell in a gulley an' hurt his arm. De next mornin' when I wus hitchin' up de boss man's horse I seed 'im comin' an' I tol de boss dat he tried to whup me de night befo' an' den de boss man say "did he have you?" I tol' 'im dat he did but dat I got away. An' den de boss say: "He had you an' he did'nt have you--is dat right?" Den he say "don't worry 'bout dat I can git you out of dat. If he had you he shoulda whupped you an' dat woulda been his game but he let you git away an' so dat wus yo' game." 'Bout dat time ol' man Brady had done got dere an' he tol' de marster dat I wus on his place de night befo' an' dat I got away an' when he tried to whup me an' de marster say to him: "dat wus his game--if you had him you shoulda whupped 'im. Dats de law. If you had whupped 'im dat woulda been yo' game, but you let 'im git away an' so dat wus his game." Ol' man Brady's face turned so red dat it looked like he wus gonna bus'.

"We worked in de fiel' every day an' way in de night we shucked an' shelled corn. De cook done all de cookin'. When all of de marster's 75 slaves wus in de fiel' dey had two cooks to feed 'em. At twelve o'clock de cooks would blow a horn at de stump in de yard back o' de cook house. Even de hosses an' de mules knowed dat horn an' dey would'nt go a step further. You had to take de mule out of de harness an' take 'im to de spring an' water 'im an' den take 'im to de house where a colored man up dere named Sam Johnson had all de feed ready fer de hosses. When you git dere all de hosses go to dere own stalls where dere wus ten ears o' corn an' one bundle o' fodder fer each hoss. While dem hosses is eatin' you better be out dere eatin' yo' own. Sarah an' Annie, de cooks had a big wooden tray wid de greens an' de meat all cut up on it an' you pass by wid yo' tin pan an' dey put yo' meat all cut up on it along wid de greens an' den you could eat anywhere you wanted to--on de stump or in de big road if you wanted to. Sometimes some of 'ems meat would give out or dere bread would give out an' den dey would say: "I'll give you a piece of my bread for some or yo' meat or I'll give you some of my meat for some of yo' bread". Some of 'em would have a big ol' ash cake an' some of 'em would have jes' plain corn bread. Dere wus usually a big skillet o' potatoes at de cook house an' when you eat an' drink yo' water den you is ready to go back to work. Dey wus goin' to let you lay down in de shade fer 'bout a hour but you would make de time up by workin' till dark. Some of 'em worked so 'till dey back wus gone. Dey could'nt even stand up straight.

"Sometimes ol' missus would come 'long an' she would be mad wid some of de women an' she would want to go to whuppin' on 'em."

"Sometimes de women would'nt take it an' would run away an' hide in de woods. Sometimes dey would come back after a short stay an' den again dey would have to put de hounds on dere trail to bring dem back home. As a general rule dere wus'nt much whuppin' on our plantation. 'Course if you did'nt do what dey tol' you to do dey would take you out an' put yo' hands round a pole an' tie you so yo' feet would jes' touch de groun' an' den dey would go to work on you wid a cowhide. Everytime dey hit you de blood would fly wid de whip."

"De clothes den wus'nt but ol' plain white cloth. Most of 'em wus patched fum de legs to de waist. Some wus patched so till dey looked like a quilt. Some of de women wore dese long striped cotton dresses an' when dey would go in de fiel' de Spanish needles an' de burrs would stick all over 'em. De only shoes dat you got wus red brogans. If you got anything better it wus some dat de marster give you fer brushing off his shoes at de house. You wus so proud whenever dey give you a pair o' shoes or a ol' straw hat dat dey wus through wid at de house you went back an' showed it to everybody an' you wus mighty proud too. I used to drive my marster's hoss an' buggy fer 'im an' so I used to git a lotsa stuff like dat."

"Ol' marster wus a judge an' his name wus Luke Johnson. His wife wus named Betsy an' his sons wus named Jim, Tom, Will, an' Dorn. His daughters wus Janie, Mary, Catherine, an' Lissie. He had 300 acres of land an' 75 slaves."

"All de houses on de plantation 'cept ol' marster's wus built out o' logs. Ol' marster lived in a fine house. Sometimes when one o' de slaves had a chance to go inside his house all de rest of de slaves would be waitin' outside fer you to come out. When you did come out dey would say: "You been in de marster's house--how did it look in dere--whut did you see?" Dey would tell 'em: "you ought to go in dere--it's so pretty". Whenever you got a chance to go in dere you had done pulled off yo' hat long' fore you got to de door.

"On Sunday we would take soot out of de chimney an' wet it an' den go an' borrow de marster's shoe brush an' go an' brush our shoes. We wus gittin' ready to go to church."

"At church all de white folks would sit in de front an' all de slaves would sit in de back. De preacher would preach an' say: "Obey yo' master an' yo' missus an' you will always do right. If you see eggs in de yard take 'em to yo' marster or yo' missus an' put 'em at her feet. If you don't do dis she will needle you well or break bark over yo' head an' de bad man will git you."

"Sometimes dey would give us a dollar at Christmas time an' if somebody did'nt take it fum us we would have it de nex' Christmas 'cause we didn't have nuthin' to spend it fer."

"When de war broke out ol' marster enlisted an' he took me 'long to wait on him an' to keep his clothes clean. I had plenty o' fun 'cause dere wus'nt so very much work to do. I 'members seein' 'im fightin' in Richmond an' Danville, Virginia. I had a good time jes' watchin' de soldiers fightin'. I did'nt have to fight any at all. I used to stand in de door of de tent an' watch 'em fight. It wus terrible--you could hear de guns firin' an' see de soldiers fallin' right an' left. All you could see wus men gittin' all shot up. One day I seed one soldier git his head shot off fum his body. Others got arms an' legs shot off. An' all de time all you could hear wus de guns goin'--bam, bam, bam--it wus terrible to see an' hear. One mornin' as I wus standin' in de door of de tent I had a dose of it. I wus leanin' against de side of de tent wid my hand stretched out a load o' grape shot fum de guns hit me in de hand an' de blood flew everywhere. I jes' hollered. It come pretty near scareing me to death. After de doctor got it patched up (and he held the hand up to exibit the scar) it wus as good as it every wus."

"After de war wus over ol' marster wus all shot up an' I had to take him on back home. When we got dere all de slaves crowded 'roun me an' wanted to know if dey wus gonna be freed or not an' when I tol' 'em dat de war wus over an' dat dey wus free dey wus all very glad. After de war a whole lots of 'em stayed on de plantation an' a whole lots of 'em left as soon as dey could git away."

PLANTATION LIFE as viewed by Ex-Slave

GEORGIA JOHNSON
1537 W. Broad Street
Athens, Georgia

Written by: Grace McCune
Athens --

Edited by: Sarah H. Hall
Athens

Leila Harris
Augusta

GEORGIA JOHNSON
Ex-Slave--Age 74

Almost without exception the old Negroes who have given their "ricollections" have had life stories centered around one plantation. Unlike these Aunt Georgia Johnson, 74 years old, of Athens, Georgia, moved about considerably during her childhood, lived in several states and had many and varied experiences. After coming back home she is of the opinion shared by all Georgians: "Dar's no place kin tetch Georgie."

"Ma's fust name was Myra. I don't 'member what her other name was. Atter her white folkses had done died out up in Maryland, her Pa, her brudder and sister was sold off up dar, and a man named Jim Grisham brung de rest of de slaves from dat plantation down to Lexin'ton, Georgie to sell 'em. Marse Duncan Allen bought my Ma and her Mammy dar at de sale in Lexin'ton and tuk 'em to his big old plantation in South Callina.

"Ma said her didn't never see no hog meat 'til she come to dis country. Her said dey et all sorts of fishes; just went to de beach and got crabs, oysters, and swimp (shrimp) wid de hulls still on 'em, but when her done et some hog meat at Marster's plantation, her said hit sho' was good. Marse Duncan Allen give my Ma to his gal, Mist'ess Laura, for her maid. My Pa, he was Charlie Allen; he b'longed to Marse Duncan Allen too. When Mist'ess Laura done went and married Marse Blackwell of E'berton, Georgie, Marse Duncan give 'em my Pa for a weddin' present and dey fetched my Ma and Pa wid 'em to live in E'berton, Georgie. Atter dey got moved and settled, my Ma and Pa dey got married. Ma, her wukked in de big house and done most of de cookin'. Pa driv' de carriage for de white folks. Marster and Mist'ess was powerful good to deir slaves. Marster, he run a big store at E'berton, and 'sides dat he had a big plantation and a heap of Niggers too.

"On de plantation dey had big gyardens whar dey raised heaps of cabbages, potatoes, colla'd greens, turnip sallet, onions, peas, rutabagas, and pun'kins and sech lak. Dey raised plenty of chickens, tukkeys, hogs, cows and sheep, and dey wove good wool cloth on de plantation looms out of de wool f'um dem dar sheep.

"Slave quarters was just one room log cabins what was built so de corners come together to big old chimneys. Yessum, I 'members dey just had one big chimney to evvy four cabins. Dey cooked on de fireplace and had pot racks for to hang de pots on, and ovens to bake in. Us sho' could do 'way wid a heap of sweet 'tatoes what had done been roasted in de ashes. Cabins was planked up on de inside and de outside was daubed wid mud in de cracks to keep out de wind and rain. Our home-made beds, nailed to de side of de cabins, had ticks filled wid wheat straw. White folks had nice corded beds. Ma said hit was lots of trouble to keep dem cords tight. Dey had hooks for to draw 'em up tight and den peg 'em down wid wooden pegs.

"Marster allus give his Niggers passes on Sundays so as dem paddyroller folks wouldn't ketch 'em and beat 'em up, if dey went off de plantation. Niggers went to de white folks church and listened to white preachers. When Ma jined de church, dey had to break de ice in Beaver Dam Crick to baptize her. Her was so happy and shouted so loud, dey had to drag her out of de crick and take her way back in de woods to keep her from 'sturbin' de rest of de folks at de baptizin'.

"I was borned in de last year of de War so I don't have no sho' 'nough ricollections 'bout dem hard times what old folks says dey had dem days. Atter de War was over, us all stayed on wid Marster for a long time. Mist'ess was moughty good to us chillun. Us played wid de white chillun, and one day Mist'ess cotch us all a-fightin', and her switched us all, but it didn't hurt. Marster used to git my sister to shout for him. I kin just see her now, a-twistin' and jumpin' and hollerin' for all de world lak grown-up Niggers done at meetin's and baptizin's, 'til she done fell out. Den Marster, he say, 'Take her to de kitchen and feed her good.'

"Pa and Marster had a fallin' out, 'cause Marster wouldn't have no settlement wid 'im. He just wouldn't give my Pa no money. Marster said us younguns still b'longed to 'im and dat us had evvything us needed, and could git anything us wanted at his store and he thought he had done 'nough for us. But my Pa said he didn't wanter take up evvything he wukked for in trade, 'cause he would lak to have some money too.

"Bout dat time Marse Pope Barrow was a gittin' up lots of Niggers to go wid him to Mis'sippi for to raise cotton out dar, whar he said dey was makin' heaps of money. Pa tuk us all and went 'long wid 'im. I just kin 'member dat place. Hit was all kivvered wid water. Marse Pope, he hired a lot of Irishmen to help dig ditches for to dreen de water off his land. Den dey planted cotton and Pa said hit sho' was fine cotton, just a-growin' to beat de band, when dem Irishmens got mad 'cause dey said Marse Pope hadn't paid 'em for deir wuk, and dey blowed up de dams and let all dat water back on de cotton. Hit was plumb ruint. Den Marse Pope, he left dar and tuk my Pa and all of us along wid him to Arkansas. Us made a big cotton crop out dar, but when all de cotton done been sold us Niggers didn't git nothin'. Ma, her had done all de cookin' for de mens what wukked for Marse Pope. His wife, Mist'ess Sallie Barrow used to come to see him and her allus brought her maid along wid her, and de maid, her stayed wid us. Ma said us chillun used to cry to go back to Georgie wid Mist'ess Sallie, 'cause her rid on one of dem boats what was run wid steam. Pa left Marse Pope 'cause he wouldn't give 'im no pay. Us sold our things and come to Memphis, Tennessee and went to farmin' for Marse Partee, and us just stayed dar long 'nough to make one crop. Whilst us was out dar, our little sister died. Just 'fore her died her said her was goin' to see God. Her told de debbil to git away f'um dar, 'cause her warn't gwine wid him. Dey put a little white dress on her and laid her out on de bed, 'til dey could make up a coffin out of plain pine wood for her. Dey just had a prayer and sung 'Hark F'um De Tomb,' and den dey buried her away in de groun'.

"Pa got his money for dat crop and den us come on back to da plantation in E'berton, Georgie, 'cause Old Marster had done been a-wantin' us back. He said he needed us, chillun and all, and us was sho' glad for to git back home. Ma done de cookin' and Pa driv' de carriage and done little jobs 'roun' de barns and hosses. Sometimes he wukked a little in de fiel's. Us chillun used to clean yards, git in de wood, feed chickens and on Sundays atter dinner when dar warn't no company at de big house us would go up to de big plunder room in de attic and us would have de bestes' times wid de white chilluns, a-dressin' up in de old clothes what Mist'ess had stored away up dar. Sometimes when Marster would ketch us up dar all dressed up, he would make us come down and preach for him. Den he made us all set down 'cep' one what was to do de preachin'. Sometimes it was his own son he called on to preach to us, and dat white boy sho' told us Niggers 'bout our sins. Den dey would make my sister, Millie, sing, 'Po' Sinner Man, Done Gone Down Yonder'. One time when Marster's son was a preachin' he told all about a fight us done had once when I hit him wid a rock. He said I sho' was goin' to de debbil for dat. I just knowed Marster was gwine git atter me 'bout dat, but he just laughed and said hit warn't de fust time a preacher had done been hit wid a rock."

"Marse Deadwyler, de mayor, up at E'berton, lived on de plantation next to ours, and he had a big old deer what sho' hated chillun. Hit would try to stomp 'em to death, and us sho' did make tracks fast sometimes when dat old deer got out. And Marster had a old mule what would fight at us chillun too. One time us didn't know he was in de parstur when us went out dar to play. De gate was wukked wid draw poles and us couldn't git 'em down, so us had to crawl under a old crib house and hit was plumb dark when Marster foun' us. Us sho' didn't go in de parstur no more lessen us knowed dat mule was fas'ened up good and tight at de barn."

"One time, in de middle of de night, long atter us chillun had done gone to bed us heared grown folks runnin' 'roun', and dey told us to git up and see Mr. Deadwyler's house a burnin' up. Dat was de bigges' fire I ever seed. Blazes and sparks went way up, and dey didn't save nothin'. Us chillun got so 'cited us didn't go back to bed no more dat night."

"Niggers didn't have no church of dey own, but dey did have prayer meetin's. Dey would kindle 'em a big fire for light and to keep 'em warm, off clost to de woods, whar deir racket wouldn't 'sturb de white folks, and dey would gather 'roun' dat fire and pray. Sometimes slaves would just go off by deirselfs in de woods to pray. One night when Ma was out in de woods a prayin' her heared a loud fuss back of her lak somebody was tearin' down de woods, and hit skeered her so her quit prayin' and run to de big house. Marster told her, hit was de debbil atter her."

"Pa got mad again at Old Marster 'cause still he wouldn't have no settlement wid 'im, so us left E'berton again and went back to South Callina to de old Allen place where Pa had come f'um. Den Pa bought me a doll what would dance when you wound it up, and I sho' did love dat little dancin' doll. Soon Miss Laura come to see her pa, Marse Duncan Allen, and her brung me a little doll too. Her said I needed somebody to play wid 'cause I couldn't go to school on account of my eyes. Dey was bad and I warn't 'lowed to read nothin', but Ma larnt me to do a little sewin'. I felt moughty big and grown up soon as I could make my own dresses and chemise. Dey warn't hard to make, but I was moughty proud 'cause I had done made 'em my own self."

"Marse Duncan Allen didn't have no little chillun of his own den, but he sho' seed atter us. For supper us had bread and milk, wid butter and 'lasses sirup. Dey says dats 'nough for chillun at night. Us was still dar on Marse Allen's place when me and Isaac McCollie got married. De white folks said I was too young 'cause I was just 15 den, but my Ma told me I could go ahead and git married if I wanted too. Isaac's two brudders was married at de same time. Whilst de boys was gone atter licenses and de preacher, us three gals was a-waitin' up at Marse Tom Young's house whar de weddin' was to take place. Dem other two gals was so skeered dat Marse Tom's housekeeper give each one of us a glass of gin to quiet our nerves, but I warn't skeered a bit, not me, when I had a chanst to be all dressed up lak dat, in a satin striped white weddin' dress wid a long train a-trailin' off de back of it. All de ten ruffles 'roun' dat dress was aidged wid pink and de big puffed sleeves had pink cuffs. Hit did seem an awful long time 'fore dem boys got back wid Preacher Lockhart. Us was married dar at Marse Tom's and den us went back to Marse Duncan Allen's place whar de bigges' surprise I ever had was ready for us. Marster and Mist'ess had done 'lowed dat if I just had to git married dey would do de best dey could for me. Out in de big house yard was long tables just loaded down wid everything good--chickens, barbecue, pies, and a great big weddin' cake, what my good old Mist'ess done baked for me her own self, and den us just had de bigges' sort of time a-dancin' and frolickin' atter us et all dat good supper. Isaac's Pa said he owed him one more year 'cause he was just 19 when us got married, and all us got for dat whole year's wuk was a little corn and one heifer.

"Old Marse Blackwell had done died and Miss Laura was a-beggin' my Pa to come back and wuk for her, but he wouldn't go nowhar 'til atter Marse Duncan Allen died, den he moved back to Georgie, down nigh de Jim Smith place. Den Pa got a farm whar de stockade is now. Us wukked moughty hard a-gittin' a start, and dat hard wuk made good crops and us raised most all us needed to eat--veg'tables, hogs, cows, chickens, tukkeys, and sech lak. In de fall atter us had done wukked so hard all thoo' crop time, Pa let us have cornshuckin's. Us cooked for two or three days 'fore dem cornshuckin's 'cause dere was allus a big crowd to be fed. When de big day come, fust thing us done was choose a gen'ral. He just walked 'roun' de big piles of corn and led de singin'. Somehow, I can't 'member how dat song went, but it was all 'bout corn. De gen'ral started de song slow and den got it to goin' faster and faster and de livelier de song went de faster de shucks would fly, and de more often dey would pass 'roun' de liquor. Soon as all de corn was shucked, us had de big feast wid plenty of good coffee and toddy to go wid dem good victuals us had done been cookin' up; dem chickens, all dat fresh killed hog meat and a big spread of lightbread and pies and cakes. Dem was de good old days, and dey don't have no sech grand times a helpin' each other, and a-celebratin' de harvest time no more.

"Atter Isaac died, I wukked for diff'unt white folks, cookin' and washin' 'til I married Alec Johnson. Dis time us just went to de preacher for to git de knot tied and didn't have no big weddin'. I did have on a nice white dress, but hit warn't nigh so pretty and fancy as my fust weddin' dress. A few friends come 'roun' dat night and us handed 'em out a little cake and ice cream, but dere warn't no big supper.

"Bofe my husbands is done been daid and gone long ago, but I'se still got two of my chillun, my gran'chillun and four great gran'chillun. Dey's all sweet and good to me, and sees dat I has all what I needs. I done lost de sight in one eye and de other one is failin' moughty fast. I prays and prays dat de good Lord will let me see a little, what time I'se got left to live.

"One of my chillun died de fust of dis year and soon I'm gwine to jine her. I hopes you laks what I ricollected, but somehow I can't call dem old times back to mind since I done got so old, lak I use to. Come back to see me again, Honey. Good-bye."

MANUEL JOHNSON of WASHINGTON-WILKES

by

Minnie Branham Stonestreet

Washington-Wilkes
Georgia

Seventy-four year old Manuel Johnson, "about de younges'" of the nine children of Milford and Patsey Johnson, is a tall ebony-black old man with the whitest hair and the roundest, merriest face. He lives in Washington, but even at his age he farms.

Although he was too young to remember much about slavery, Uncle Manuel recalls the happy old plantation days: "My Pa an' Ma cum frum ole Virgin'y five years befo' de Wah, Jedge Harris here in Wilkes County went up ter Virgin'y an' bo't dem frum de Putnams an' bro't 'em home wid him. You know, Miss, in dem days us niggers wuz bo't an' sole lak dey does mules ter-day. I wuz borned down on de Harris place de same year Miss Carrie (the youngest Harris daughter) wuz--we's de same year's chillun, dat's de onlies' way I knows how ole I is, Miss Harris tole me.

"Jedge Harris had er lot ov slaves--I specks I kin name er hunderd now, dey all lived in log cabins in de Quarters an' wuz happy an' well took keer ov as dey could be. De white folks took me in de house when I wuz leetle an' raised me kase dey wanted me fer er house boy. I waited on de table, washed dishes, an' atter I got big 'nough, I milked de cows. I et in de kitchen out'n young Marse Jimmie's plate. I tho't so much ov him I allus et out'n de same plate he did. We sho' had er plenty ov ev'ything good too. All de y'uther niggers cooked an' et in de cabins. I wuz gittin' 'long in years 'fo' I knowed you could buy meat in a sto'. Yassum, us lived well on dat plantation--had plenty ter eat an' ter wear. Miss Cornelia--(the oldest Harris daughter)--made all my clothes. De nigger wimmens spun an' wove, but I never paid dem much mind when I wuz er comin' on. I 'member hearin' dem talk 'bout dyin' de cloth out er bark an' things dey got out'n de woods. Jes' so I had somethin' ter wear I never tho't how hard dey had ter wuk ter mak hit.

"I lived on de Harris plantation wid dem 'til I wuz nineteen years ole an' I allus felt lak I belonged ter dem--dey wuz so good ter me. When I fust could 'member, Miss Cornelia would git on ole Ruben, dat wuz her saddle horse, an' mak me git up behind her an den she'd go anywhere she wanted ter go. 'Nough times she took me ter ole Mt Zion Church wid her.

"No nigger wuz ever 'lected on de Harris place. Ef we wuz sick er needed sumthin' us got hit. Ef we wuz real sick de horseback doctor cum. In dem days de doctors rid 'roun' in de country on horseback an' took medicine wid em. Ef we warn't so sick de ole white folks cum ter see us an' 'scribed fer us. Dey use ter mak us little niggers take hoehound tea an' fat lightwood tea fer coles. Dat lightwood tea is er good medicine, I takes hit lots ov times now when I has er cole. Us had ter take Garlic water--no'm, not Garlic and whiskey, but jes' plain Garlic water, an' hit wuz a bad dose too. Dey give us candy made out'n Jerusalem oak an' sugar, dat warn't so bad."

Uncle Manuel said when he first could remember the negroes had services in their cabins at night. "Chairback" preachers went around from one plantation to another holding services and much good was done. "On Sunday evenings, our Mistess called all us little folks up to de house an' read de Bible to us an' tole us Bible stories an' talked ter us 'bout livin' right. I 'members dat jes' as good."

When asked about the funerals and marriages when he first remembered, Uncle Manuel said: "Dey keeps dead folks out too long now. When I wuz comin' on, ef somebody died lak terday, dey wuz buried ter-morrer'. Dere wuz a settin' up an' prayer service dat night, de body wuz put in er plain home-made coffin blacked wid blackin' an' speerits turpentine, an' when de waggin cum ter take de body ter de buryin' groun' ev'ybody went out behin' de corpse singin' some good ole song lak 'Amazin' Grace' an' 'Hark Frum de Tomb'. Den dey went on ter de grave an' had a little service tellin' 'bout how de departed 'un had gone ter peace an' rest--dere warn't no long 'ictionary lak dey has now--none ov dese great long sermons an' gwines on--ev'ybody had jes' er common funeral an' hit wuz so much better.

"My Marster wuz a Jedge so he married all his niggers whut got married. He married lots ov y'uther couples too. I 'members dat dey use ter cum fer him ter marry dem."

Uncle Manuel said he tried superstitions and signs, but they didn't "prosper me none", so he gave up all he knew except the weather signs, and he plants his crops by the moon. "I watches de fust twelve days ov de New Year an' den I kin tell jes' whut weather ev'y mont' ov de year gwine ter bring. Dat's de way mens mak almanacs. 'Course I ain't got no edercation--nuver been ter school in my life--but dat's my fault kase I could have went, but long 'bout den I wuz so mannish I wouldn't go an' ev'y day I wishes I had er went so I could read now, but I didn't have sense 'nough den ter want ter learn."

About planting crops, Uncle Manuel advises: "Plant ev'ything dat makes under de groun' lak 'taters, goobers, tunips an' sich, on de dark ov de noon; plant ev'ything dat makes on top de groun' on light nights. Plant yo' crap on de waste ov de moon an' dat crap sho' gwine ter waste er way, an' dat's de truf, I ain't nuver seed hit fail yit. Plant corn on de full ov de moon an' you'll have full good-made years, plant on de growin' ov de moon an' you'll have a full growed stalk, powerful stalks, but de years won't be fulled out. I pays 'tention to dem signs, but as fer all dese y'uthers, dey ain't nothin' ter dem, 'cept meetin' er cat, I jes' has ter turn clean er 'roun' when I meets er cat an' dat turns de bad luck dat hit means, er way."

Uncle Manuel grew sad as he recalled the good old days long gone. He made an unusual statement for one of his race when he said: "Mistess, ef somebody had er thousan' dollars in one han' an' in de y'uther a pass fer me ter go back to dem ole days an' axed me which 'un I'de tak', I'de go back to dem ole days an' live de rest ov my life. Dere aint' nothin' to dese times now--nothin' 'cept trubble, peoples is livin' so fast, dey don't tak' no time ter stop an' 'sider, dey jes' resh right into trubble. I use ter drive oxen--four ov 'em--an' dey took me 'long all right. I'se plowed oxen too, now yu nuver see 'un kase dey's too slow; hit's autymobiles an' gas-run things, no'm, folks don't 'sider on de ways ov life lak dey use ter.

"Why is I livin' so long? Dat's easy--I'se 'onest, ain't nuver stole, nuver been in no trubble ov any kin', been nigh ter death two times, but I'se been spared kase I jes' ain't lived out my days yit. I'se on borrowed time, I knows dat, but dat ain't worryin' me none. An' I tell yu somthin' else; I ain't botherin' none over dis ole age pensun business fer I'se gwine ter wok on pensun er no pensun. No mam, I ain't gwine ter set back an' 'speck no govermint ter feed me long as I kin' scratch er 'roun'. I got wuk ter do--I got mo' wuk ter do an' gwine ter do hit long as I'se able."

It was easy to see from Uncle Manuel's manner he meant every word he said about "wuk". An independent old soul, and a good example to the younger ones of his race.

[HW: Ex-Slave]
Mary A. Crawford
Re-search Worker

Susie Johnson--Ex-slave

Susie was only four years old when The War Between the States began, but recalls a great deal about the old days, and remembers a great deal that her mother told her. Susie's parents were Jim and Dinah Freeman who belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Henry Freeman.

The Freemans lived on a large plantation near The Rock, Georgia, and had so many slaves "they could not be counted".

The old Freeman home is still standing, but is occupied now by negroes and is in a bad state of repair.

Susie is around seventy-five or seventy-seven years old, as nearly as she can "figger it out". A good many years ago when she first came over here from Upson County, she found "Mr. Frank Freeman, her young marster, away back yonder", and he told her lots and lots about her mother and father and gave her her correct age--July 4th.

Susie says that Mr. and Mrs. Freeman were "sho" good to their slaves but they surely did control them. For instance, if any of them had the stomach ache "Ole Miss" would make them take some "Jerusalem Oak tea" and if they had a bad cold it was "hoar hound tea". If you did not take the medicine "Ole Miss" would reach up and get the leather "strop" and (Susie chuckled) "then you'd take it".

When asked if Mr. Freeman whipped the slaves very much, Susie said he did not and that if he had been a mean master that "all the niggers wouldn't a wanted to stay on with him after freedom".

When asked about the negro marriage customs of slavery days, Susie stated that her mother said that "she and Jim (Susie's daddy) when they got in love and wanted to marry, jest held each others hands and jumped over the broom and they was married".

"Yes, I believe in lots o' signs", Susie replied on being asked about that. For instance, the "scritch' owl is a sho' sign o' death. And the reason I knows that is cause my papa's death was fo' told by an owl. Papa was took sick like this morning at nine o'clock and about eleven o'clock a little scritch' owl come and set right on the corner of the roof right above the head o' papa's bed and scritched and scritched--and by two o'clock that day papa was a corpse!"

Susie remembers one day when she and her mother were picking cotton when all of a sudden her mother began to sing "Glory to the Dying Land" and sang so much that "atter a while she got so happy she couldn't be still and she danced all over Masta's cotton patch and tromped down so much cotton I jest knowed Masta was gwina whup her. Den I laffed at her so hard 'Ole Miss whupped me wid dat strop! Law! Law!"

Susie Johnson--232 East Tinsley Street, Griffin, Georgia
September 4, 1936

EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW

ESTELLA JONES
1434 Wrightsboro Road
Augusta, Georgia

Written by: Louisa Oliphant
Federal Writers' Project
Augusta, Georgia.

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

At least one old Augusta Negress has vivid recollections of childhood days on plantations in the pre-Civil War days. Outstanding in their memories are the methods of rearing slave children and the amusements indulged in by their mothers and fathers.

"I was born and raised in Powers Pond Place," said decrepit Estella Jones, "and, though I warn't but nine years old, I 'member dey had a nuss house whar dey put all de young chillun 'til dey wuz old enough to work. De chillun wuz put at dis nuss house so dey Ma and Pa could work. Dey had one old 'oman to look atter us and our [HW: some'pin] t' eat wuz brought to dis house. Our milk wuz put on de floor in a big wooden tray and dey give us oyster shells to eat wid. All de chillun would gather 'round dis tray and eat. Dey always let us eat 'til us got enough. I kept some of de oyster shells dey give us for spoons 'til my own chillun wuz grown.

"De nuss house wuz close to de marster's house. It wuz a wooden house wid two great big rooms. De sleepin' room wuz furnished wid little bunk beds three or four feet apart. The other room wuz used for a playroom and dinin' room. De floor wuz bare and de seats and benches wuz built from undressed lumber.

"Slaves on our place had a hard time. Dey had to work night and day. Marster had stobs (staves) all over de field to put lights on so dey could see how to work atter dark. De mens, more so dan de womens, had to work every night 'til twelve o'clock. But dey would feed 'em good. Dey had dey supper sont out in de field to 'em 'bout nine o'clock by a cripple boy who didn't do nothin' but tote water and do things lak dat.

"Dey wuz always glad when de time come for 'em to shell corn. Dey enjoyed dat better dan dey did Christmas, or at least jist as much. Dey always had to work durin' de day time and shell corn at night. De overseer wuz real good to 'em and it looked lak he enjoyed corn shellin's as much as dey did. Most times slaves from other plantations would come over and help 'em. Dey used to put on dey good clothes 'cause dey wanted to look dey best.

"It always tuk 'bout two weeks to shell corn 'cause de real old mens and womens never did help. Dey always had somethin' good to eat at dese times. Dey would pick out de best six cooks and dey wouldn't help shell corn, dey jist looked atter de cookin'. Dey would have chicken, sometimes fish or anythin' dey could get. Now and den dey had jist chitt'lin's and sweet 'tatoes.

"De men have even stole hogs from other people and barbecued 'em, den dey would cook hash and rice and serve barbecue. The overseer knowed all 'bout it but he et as much as anybody else and kept his mouth shut. He wuz real good to all de slaves. He never run you and yelled at you lak you warn't human. Everybody loved him, and would mind him better dan dey would anybody else. He always let de slaves shell corn 'til 'bout ten o'clock, den everybody would stop and have supper. Atter dat he would let 'em dance and play games 'til twelve. Our marster didn't say nothin' 'bout what de slaves done so long as de overseer wuz wid 'em.

"When corn-shellin' time come, everything would be tuk out of a big room, and one half of de room would be filled wid corn. Every pusson had a bucket dat held de same amount. Every time a bucket wuz filled it wuz tuk to de scorekeeper to be credited to his name. Whenever de huskin' wuz over, de number of buckets you had filled wuz counted and de one who filled de most always got a prize.

"Whenever anybody wuz late gittin' his cotton picked out, he always give a moonlight cotton pickin' party. Dese parties wuz always give on moonshiny nights and wuz liked by everybody. Atter while dey give everybody somethin' good to eat, and at de end of de party, de pusson who had picked de most cotton got a prize. Sometimes dey had pea shellin's 'stead of corn huskin's, but de parties and frolics wuz all pretty much alike.