Chapter III: Part 3

"Long 'bout dat time dey wuz killin' hawgs on de plantation, en it wuz er moughty cole day. Miss Millie, she tell me fer ter tote dis quart er brandy out dar fer ter warm up de mens dat wuz er wukkin in de cole win'. 'Long de way, Ah keep er sippin' dat brandy, en time Ah got ter de hawg killin' place Ah wuz crazy drunk en tryin' ter sing. Dat time 'twon't no overseer beat me. Dem slave mens beat me den fo' drinkin' dat likker."

"Mah folks stayed on en wukked fo' Marse Ned long atter de war. When Ah wuz mos' grown mah fam'ly moved ter Logansville. No, Ma'am, I ain't nebber been so free en happy es when I diden' hev ter worry 'bout whar de vittles en close gwine cum fum, en all Ah had ter do wuz wuk evvy day lak mah whitefolks tole me."

[HW: Dist. 5 (Driskell) Ex Slave #69]

AMANDA MCDANIEL, 80 yrs old Ex-slave [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

Among these few remaining persons who have lived long enough to tell of some of their experiences during the reign of "King Slavery" in the United States is one Mrs. Amanda McDaniel.

As she sat on the porch in the glare of the warm October sun she presented a perfect picture of the old Negro Mammy commonly seen during the days of slavery. She smiled as she expectorated a large amount of the snuff she was chewing and began her story in the following manner: "I was born in Watsonville, Georgia in 1850. My mother's name was Matilda Hale and my father was Gilbert Whitlew. My mother and father belonged to different master's, but the plantations that they lived on were near each other and so my father was allowed to visit us often. My mother had two other girls who were my half-sisters. You see--my mother was sold to the speculator in Virginia and brought to Georgia where she was sold to Mr. Hale, who was our master until freedom was declared. When she was sold to the speculator the two girls who were my half-sisters had to be sold with her because they were too young to be separated from their mother. My father, Gilbert Whitlew, was my mother's second husband.

"Mr. Hale, our master, was not rich like some of the other planters in the community. His plantation was a small one and he only had eight servants who were all women. He wasn't able to hire an overseer and all of the heavy work such as the plowing was done by his sons. Mrs. Hale did all of her own cooking and that of the slaves too. In all Mr. Hale had eleven children. I had to nurse three of them before I was old enough to go to the field to work."

When asked to tell about the kind of work the slaves had to do Mrs. McDaniel said: "Our folks had to get up at four o'clock every morning and feed the stock first. By the time it was light enough to see they had to be in the fields where they hoed the cotton and the corn as well as the other crops. Between ten and eleven o'clock everybody left the field and went to the house where they worked until it was too dark to see. My first job was to take breakfast to those working in the fields. I used buckets for this. Besides this I had to drive the cows to and from the pasture. The rest of the day was spent in taking care of Mrs. Hale's young children. After a few years of this I was sent to the fields where I planted peas, corn, etc. I also had to pick cotton when that time came, but I never had to hoe and do the heavy work like my mother and sisters did." According to Mrs. McDaniel they were seldom required to work at night after they had left the fields but when such occasions did arise they were usually in the form of spinning thread and weaving cloth. During the winter months this was the only type of work that they did. On days when the weather was too bad for work out of doors they shelled the corn and peas and did other minor types of work not requiring too much exposure. Nobody had to work on Saturday afternoons or on Sundays. It was on Saturdays or at night that the slaves had the chance to do their own work such as the repairing of clothing, etc.

On the Hale plantation clothing was issued two times each year, once at the beginning of summer and again at the beginning of the winter season. On this first issue all were given striped dresses made of cotton material. These dresses were for wear during the week while dresses made of white muslin were given for Sunday wear. The dye which was necessary in order to color those clothes worn during the week was made by boiling red dirt or the bark of trees in water. Sometimes the indigo berry was also used. The winter issue consisted of dresses made of woolen material. The socks and stockings were all knitted. All of this wearing apparel was made by Mrs. Hale. The shoes that these women slaves wore were made in the nearby town at a place known as the tan yards. These shoes were called "Brogans" and they were very crude in construction having been made of very stiff leather. None of the clothing that was worn on this plantation was bought as everything necessary for the manufacture of clothing was available on the premises.

As has been previously stated, Mrs. Hale did all of the cooking on the plantation with the possible exception of Sundays when the slaves cooked for themselves. During the week their diet usually consisted of corn bread, fat meat, vegetables, milk, and potliquor. The food that they ate on Sunday was practically the same. All the food that they ate was produced in the master's garden and there was a sufficient amount for everyone at all times.

There were two one-room log cabins in the rear of the master's house. These cabins were dedicated to slave use. Mrs. McDaniel says: "The floors were made of heavy wooden planks. At one end of the cabin was the chimney which was made out of dried mud, sticks, and dirt. On the side of the cabin opposite the door there was a window where we got a little air and a little light. Our beds were made out of the same kind of wood that the floors were and we called them "Bed-Stilts." Slats were used for springs while the mattresses were made of large bags stuffed with straw. At night we used tallow candles for light and sometimes fat pine that we called light-wood. As Mrs. Hale did all of our cooking we had very few pots and pans. In the Winter months we used to take mud and close the cracks left in the wall where the logs did not fit close together."

According to Mrs. McDaniel all the serious illnesses were handled by a doctor who was called in at such times. At other times Mr. or Mrs. Hale gave them either castor oil or salts. Sometimes they were given a type of oil called "lobelia oil." At the beginning of the spring season they drank various teas made out of the roots that they gathered in the surrounding woods. The only one that Mrs. McDaniel remembers is that which was made from sassafras roots. "This was good to clean the system," says Mrs. McDaniel. Whenever they were sick they did not have to report to the master's house each day as was the case on some of the other plantations. There were never any pretended illnesses to avoid work as far as Mrs. McDaniel knows.

On Sunday all of the slaves on the Hale plantation were permitted to dress in their Sunday clothes and go to the white church in town. During the morning services they sat in the back of the church where they listened to the white pastor deliver the sermon. In the afternoon they listened to a sermon that was preached by a colored minister. Mrs. McDaniel hasn't the slightest idea of what these sermons were about. She remembers how marriages were performed, however, although the only one that she ever witnessed took place on one of the neighboring plantations. After a broom was placed on the ground a white minister read the scriptures and then the couple in the process of being married jumped over this broom. They were then considered as man and wife.

Whippings were very uncommon the the Hale plantation. Sometimes Mr. Hale had to resort to this form of punishment for disobedience on the part of some of the servants. Mrs. McDaniel says that she was whipped many times but only once with the cowhide. Nearly every time that she was whipped a switch was used. She has seen her mother as well as some of the others punished but they were never beaten unmercifully. Neither she or any of the other slaves on the Hale plantation ever came in contact with the "Paddie-Rollers," whom they knew as a group of white men who went around whipping slaves who were caught away from their respective homes without passes from their masters. When asked about the buying and the selling of slaves Mrs. McDaniel said that she had never witnessed an auction at which slaves were being sold and that the only thing she knew about this was what she had been told by her mother who had been separated from her husband and sold in Georgia. Mr. Hale never had the occasion to sell any of those slaves that he held.

Mrs. McDaniel remembers nothing of the talk that transpired between the slaves or her owners at the beginning of the war. She says: "I was a little girl, and like the other children then, I didn't have as much sense as the children of today who are of the age that I was then. I do remember that my master moved somewhere near Macon, Georgia after General Wheeler marched through. I believe that he did more damage than the Yanks did when they came through. When my master moved us along with his family we had to go out of the way a great deal because General Wheeler had destroyed all of the bridges. Besides this he damaged a great deal of the property that he passed." Continuing, Mrs. McDaniel said: "I didn't see any of the fighting but I did hear the firing of the cannons. I also saw any number of Confederate soldiers pass by our place." Mr. Hale didn't join the army although his oldest son did.

At the time that the slaves were freed it meant nothing in particular to Mrs. McDaniel, who says that she was too young to pay much attention to what was happening. She never saw her father after they moved away from Watsonville. At any rate she and her mother remained in the service of Mr. Hale for a number of years after the war. In the course of this time Mr. Hale grew to be a wealthy man. He continued to be good to those servants who remained with him. After she was a grown woman Mrs. McDaniel left Mr. Hale as she was then married.

Mrs. McDaniel says that she has reached such an old age because she has always taken care of herself, which is more than the young people of today are doing, she added as an after thought.

Dist. 7 Ex. Slave #74

TOM McGRUDER, 102 years old Ex-Slave

By Elizabeth Watson, Hawkinsville, Georgia [Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]

Tom McGruder, one of the oldest living ex-slaves in Pulaski County, was sitting on the porch of his son's home when we went in to see him. His grizzled old head began to nod a "Good morning" and his brown face became wreathed in smiles when he saw us.

He looked very small as he sat in a low straight chair by the door. His shirt and overalls were ragged but spotlessly clean. On his feet were heavy shoes that were kept free from dirt. His complexion was not black as some of the other members of his race but was a light brown. There were very few wrinkles in his face considering the fact that he was one hundred and two years old in June. He spoke in a quiet voice though somewhat falteringly as he suffers greatly from asthma.

"Were you born in this county, Uncle Tom?" we asked.

"No mam, Missus," he replied. "Me and my mother and sister wuz brought from Virginia to this state by the speculators and sold here. I was only about eighteen or twenty and I was sold for $1250. My mother was given to one of Old Marster's married chillun.

"You see, Missus," he spoke again after a long pause. "We wuz put on the block just like cattle and sold to one man today and another tomorrow. I wuz sold three times after coming to this state."

Tom could tell us very little about his life on the large plantations because his feeble old mind would only be clear at intervals. He would begin relating some incident but would suddenly break off with, "I'd better leave that alone 'cause I done forgot." He remembered, however, that he trained dogs for his "whie folks," trained them to be good hunters as that was one of the favorite sports of the day.

The last man to whom Tom was sold was Mr. Jim McGruder, of Emanuel County. He was living in a small cabin belonging to Mr. McGruder, when he married. "I 'members", said Tom, "That Old Marster and Missus fixed up a lunch and they and their chillun brought it to my cabin. Then they said, 'Nigger, jump the broom' and we wuz married, 'cause you see we didn't know nothing 'bout no cer'mony."

It was with Mr. McGruder that Tom entered the army, working for him as his valet.

"I wuz in the army for 'bout four years," Tom said. "I fought in the battles at Petersburg, Virginia and Chattanooga, Tennessee. I looked after Old Marster's shoes and clothes. Old Marster, what he done he done well. He was kind to me and I guess better to me sometimes than I deserved but I had to do what he told me."

"Do you remember any of the old songs you used to sing?" we asked. "Missus, I can't sing no mo'," he replied. But pausing for a few minutes he raised his head and sang in a quiet voice, the words and melody perfectly clear;

"Why do you wait, dear brother,
Oh, why do you tarry so long?
Your Saviour is waiting to give you
A place in His sanctified throng."

PLANTATION LIFE as viewed by ex-slave

SUSAN McINTOSH, Age 87 1203 W. Hancook Avenue Athens, Georgia

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

Edited by: Sarah H. Hall Athens

John N. Booth Augusta

Leila Harris Augusta

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

A driving rain sent the interviewer scurrying into the house of Susan McIntosh who lives with her son, Dr. Andrew Jones, at the corner of Hancock Avenue and Billups Street.

Susan readily gave her story: "They tell me I was born in November 1851," she said, "and I know I've been here a long time 'cause I've seen so many come and go. I've outlived 'most all of my folks 'cept my son that I live with now. Honey, I've 'most forgot about slavery days. I don't read, and anyway there ain't no need to think of them times now. I was born in Oconee County on Judge William Stroud's plantation. We called him Marse Billy. That was a long time before Athens was the county seat. Ma's name was Mary Jen, and Pa was Christopher Harris. They called him Chris for short. Marster Young L.G. Harris bought him from Marster Hudson of Elbert County and turned him over to his niece, Miss Lula Harris, when she married Marster Robert Taylor. Marse Robert was a son of General Taylor what lived in the Grady house before it belonged to Mr. Henry Grady's mother. Pa was coachman and house boy for Miss Lula.

"Marse Billy owned Ma, and Marse Robert owned Pa, and Pa, he come to see Ma about once or twice a month. The Taylor's, they done a heap of travellin' and always took my Pa with 'em. Oh! there was thirteen of us chillun, seven died soon after they was born, and none of 'em lived to git grown 'cept me. Their names was Nanette and Ella, what was next to me; Susan--thats me; Isabelle, Martha, Mary, Diana, Lila, William, Gus, and the twins what was born dead; and Harden. He was named for a Dr. Harden what lived here then.

"Marse Billy bought my gran'ma in Virginia. She was part Injun. I can see her long, straight, black hair now, and when she died she didn't have gray hair like mine. They say Injuns don't turn gray like other folks. Gran'ma made cloth for the white folks and slaves on the plantation. I used to hand her thread while she was weavin'. The lady what taught Gran'ma to weave cloth, was Mist'ess Gowel, and she was a foreigner, 'cause she warn't born in Georgia. She had two sons what run the factory between Watkinsville and Athens. My aunt, Mila Jackson, made all the thread what they done the weavin' with. Gran'pa worked for a widow lady what was a simster (seamstress) and she just had a little plantation. She was Mist'ess Doolittle. All Gran'pa done was cut wood, 'tend the yard and gyarden. He had rheumatism and couldn't do much.

"There ain't much to tell about what we done in the slave quarters, 'cause when we got big enough, we had to work: nussin' the babies, totin' water, and helpin' Gran'ma with the weavin', and such like. Beds was driv to the walls of the cabin; foot and headboard put together with rails, what run from head to foot. Planks was laid crossways and straw put on them and the beds was kivvered with the whitest sheets you ever seen. Some made pallets on the floor.

"No, Ma'am, I didn't make no money 'til after freedom. I heard tell of ten and fifteen cents, but I didn't know nothing 'bout no figgers. I didn't know a nickel from a dime them days.

"Yes, Ma'am, Marse Billy 'lowed his slaves to have their own gyardens, and 'sides plenty of good gyarden sass, we had milk and butter, bread and meat, chickens, greens, peas, and just everything that growed on the farm. Winter and summer, all the food was cooked in a great big fireplace, about four feet wide, and you could put on a whole stick of cord wood at a time. When they wanted plenty of hot ashes to bake with, they burnt wood from ash trees. Sweet potatoes and bread was baked in the ashes. Seems like vittuls don't taste as good as they used to, when we cooked like that. 'Possums, Oh! I dearly love 'possums. My cousins used to catch 'em and when they was fixed up and cooked with sweet potatoes, 'possum meat was fit for a king. Marse Billy had a son named Mark, what was a little bitty man. They said he was a dwarf. He never done nothing but play with the children on the plantation. He would take the children down to the crick what run through the plantation and fish all day. We had rabbits, but they was most generally caught in a box trap, so there warn't no time wasted a-huntin' for 'em.

"In summer, the slave women wore white homespun and the men wore pants and shirts made out of cloth what looked like overall cloth does now. In winter, we wore the same things, 'cept Marse Billy give the men woolen coats what come down to their knees, and the women wore warm wraps what they called sacks. On Sunday we had dresses dyed different colors. The dyes were made from red clay and barks. Bark from pines, sweetgums, and blackjacks was boiled, and each one made a different color dye. The cloth made at home was coarse and was called 'gusta cloth. Marse Billy let the slaves raise chickens, and cows, and have cotton patches too. They would sell butter, eggs, chickens, brooms, made out of wheat straw and such like. They took the money and bought calico, muslin and good shoes, pants, coats and other nice things for their Sunday clothes. Marse Billy bought leather from Marster Brumby's tanyard and had shoes made for us. They was coarse and rough, but they lasted a long time.

"My Marster was father-in-law of Dr. Jones Long. Marse Billy's wife, Miss Rena, died long before I was born. Their six children was all grown when I first knowed 'em. The gals was: Miss Rena, Miss Selena, Miss Liza, and Miss Susan. Miss Susan was Dr. Long's wife. I was named for her. There was two boys; Marse John and Marse Mark. I done told you 'bout Marse Mark bein' a dwarf. They lived in a big old eight room house, on a high hill in sight of Mars Hill Baptist Church. Marse Billy was a great deacon in that church. Yes, Ma'am, he sho' was good to his Negroes. I heard 'em say that after he had done bought his slaves by working in a blacksmith shop, and wearin' cheap clothes, like mulberry suspenders, he warn't goin' to slash his Negroes up. The older folks admired Mist'ess and spoke well of her. They said she had lots more property than Marse Billy. She said she wanted Marse Billy to see that her slaves was give to her children. I 'spose there was about a hundred acres on that plantation and Marse Billy owned more property besides. There was about fifty grown folks and as to the children, I just don't know how many there was. Around the quarters looked like a little town.

"Marse Billy had a overseer up to the time War broke out, then he picked out a reliable colored man to carry out his orders. Sometimes the overseer got rough, then Marse Billy let him go and got another one. The overseer got us up about four or five o'clock in the morning, and dark brought us in at night.

"Jails! Yes, Ma'am, I ricollect one was in Watkinsville. No, Ma'am, I never saw nobody auctioned off, but I heard about it. Men used to come through an buy up slaves for foreign states where there warn't so many.

"Well, I didn't have no privilege to learn to read and write, but the white lady what taught my gran'ma to weave, had two sons what run the factory, and they taught my uncles to read and write.

"There warn't no church on the plantation, so we went to Mars Hill Church. The white folks went in the mornings from nine 'til twelve and the slaves went in the evenings from three 'till about five. The white folks went in the front door and slaves used the back door. Rev. Bedford Lankford, what preached to the white folks helped a Negro, named Cy Stroud, to preach to the Negroes. Oh! Yes, Ma'am, I well remembers them baptizings. I believe in church and baptizing.

"They buried the slaves on the plantation, in coffins made out of pine boards. Didn't put them in two boxes lak dey does now, and dey warn't painted needer.

"Did you say patterollers? Sho' I seen 'em, but they didn't come on our plantation, 'cause Marse Billy was good to his Negroes and when they wanted a pass, if it was for a good reason, he give 'em one. Didn't none of Marse Billy's slaves run off to no North. When Marse Billy had need to send news somewhere, he put a reliable Negro on a mule and sent him. I sho' didn't hear about no trouble twixt white folks and Negroes.

"I tell you, Honey, when the days work was over them slaves went to bed, 'cep' when the moon was out and they worked in their own cotton patches. On dark nights, the women mended and quilted sometimes. Not many worked in the fields on Saturday evenin's. They caught up on little jobs aroun' the lot; a mending harness and such like. On Saturday nights the young folks got together and had little frolics and feasts, but the older folks was gettin' things ready for Sunday, 'cause Marse Billy was a mighty religious man: we had to go to church, and every last one of the children was dragged along too.

"We always had one week for Christmas. They brought us as much of good things to eat as we could destroy in one week, but on New Year's Day we went back to work. No, Ma'am, as I ricollect, we didn't have no corn shuckings or cotton pickings only what we had to do as part of our regular work.

"The white folks mostly got married on Wednesday or Thursday evenin's. Oh! they had fine times, with everything good to eat, and lots of dancing too. Then they took a trip. Some went to Texas and some to Chicago. They call Chicago, the colored folks' New York now. I don't remember no weddings 'mongst the slaves. My cousin married on another plantation, but I warn't there.

"Where I was, there warn't no playing done, only 'mongst the little chillun, and I can't remember much that far back. I recall that we sung a little song, about:

'Little drops of water
Little grains of sand,
Make the mighty ocean
And the pleasant land.'

"Oh! Yes, Ma'am, Marse Billy was good to his slaves, when they got sick. He called in Dr. Jones Long, Dr. Harden, and Dr. Lumpkin when they was real sick. There was lots of typhoid fever then. I don't know nothing about no herbs, they used for diseases; only boneset and hoarhound tea for colds and croup. They put penrile (pennyroyal) in the house to keep out flies and fleas, and if there was a flea in the house he would shoo from that place right then and there.

"The old folks put little bags of assfiddy (assafoetida) around their chillun's necks to keep off measles and chickenpox, and they used turpentine and castor oil on chillun's gums to make 'em teethe easy. When I was living on Milledge Avenue, I had Dr. Crawford W. Long to see about one of my babies, and he slit that baby's gums so the teeth could come through. That looked might bad to me, but they don't believe in old ways no more."

She laughed and said: "No, Ma'am, I don't know nothing about such low down things as hants and ghosts! Rawhead and Bloody Bones, I just thought he was a skelerpin, with no meat on him. Course lots of Negroes believe in ghosts and hants. Us chillun done lots of flightin' like chillun will do. I remember how little Marse Mark Stroud used to take all the little boys on the plantation and teach 'em to play Dixie on reeds what they called quills. That was good music, but the radio has done away with all that now.

"I knowed I was a slave and that it was the War that sot me free. It was 'bout dinner time when Marse Billy come to the door and called us to the house. He pulled out a paper and read it to us, and then he said: 'You all are free, as I am.' We couldn't help thinking about what a good marster he always had been, and how old, and feeble, and gray headed he looked as he kept on a-talkin' that day. 'You all can stay on here with me if you want to,' he 'lowed, 'but if you do, I will have to pay you wages for your work.'

"I never saw no Yankees in Athens, but I was in Atlanta at Mrs. Winship's on Peachtree Street, when General Sherman come to that town 'parin' his men for to go home. There was about two thousand in all, white and black. They marched up and down Marietta Street from three o'clock in the evening 'til seven o'clock next morning. Then they left. I remember well that there warn't a house left standing in Atlanta, what warn't riddled with shell holes. I was scared pretty nigh to death and I never want to leave home at no time like that again. But Pa saw 'em soon after that in Athens. They was a marching down Broad Street on their way to Macon, and Pa said it looked like a blue cloud going through.

"Ma and me stayed on with Marse Billy 'bout six months after the War ended before we come to town to live with Pa. We lived right back of Rock College and Ma took in washin' for the folks what went to school there. No, Ma'am I never saw no Ku Kluxers. Me and Ma didn't leave home at night and the white folks wouldn't let 'em git Pa.

"Major Knox brought three or four teachers to teach in a school for Negroes that was started up here the first year after the War. Major Knox, he was left like a sort of Justice of Peace to get things to going smooth after the War. I went to school there about three months, then Ma took sick, and I didn't go no more. My white teacher was Miss Sarah, and she was from Chicago.

"Now and then the Negroes bought a little land, and white folks gave little places to some Negroes what had been good slaves for 'em.

"I didn't take in about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. A long time after the War, I heard 'em say he got killed. I knowed Mr. Jeff. Davis was President of the Confederacy. As for Booker Washington, I never saw him, but I heard his son whan he was here once and gave a musical of some sort at the Congregational Church.

"I was a old gal when I married 'bout thirty or forty years after the War. I married George McIntosh. Wedding clothes!" she chuckled, and said: "I didn't have many. I bought 'em second hand from Mrs. Ed. Bond. They was nice though. The dress I married in was red silk. We had a little cake and wine; no big to do, just a little fambly affair. Of our four chillun, two died young, and two lived to git grown. My daughter was a school teacher and she has been dead sometime. I stays wid my only living child. My husban' died a long time ago.

"I cooked and washed for Mr. Prince Hodgson for thirty years. Miss Mary Franklin used to tell me 'bout all them strange places she had been to while she was paintin'. There never was nobody in this town could paint prettier pictures than Miss Mary's.

"I'm glad slavery is over. I'm too old to really work anymore, but I'm like a fish going down the crick and if he sees a bug he will catch him if he can.

"I joined the church 'cause I believe in the Son of God. I know he is a forgiving God, and will give me a place to rest after I am gone from the earth. Everybody ought to 'pare for the promised land, where they can live always after they are done with this world."

After the interview, she said: "Honey, this is the most I have talked about slavery days in twelve years; and I believe what I told you is right. Of course, lots has faded from my mind about it now."

District #7 Adella S. Dixon, Macon, Georgia

MATILDA McKINNEY 100 Empire Avenue, Macon, Georgia [Date Stamp: JUL 28 1937]

Matilda McKinney was born in Texas but was brought to southwest Georgia, near Albany, at an early age. Her mother, Amy Dean, had eight children, of which Aunt Matilda is the eldest. The plantation on which they lived was owned by Mr. Milton Ball, and it varied little in size or arrangement from the average one of that time. Here was found the usual two-story white house finished with high columns and surrounded by trees.

Most of the Negro mothers did field work, so it was necessary for others to care for the children. Mr. Ball handled this problem in the usual way. He established what would today be called a day nursery. Each mother brought her offspring to the home of an elderly woman before leaving for her day's work. Here, they were safely kept until their parents returned. The midday meal for everyone was prepared at the Big House and the slaves were served from huge tubs of vegetables and pots of meat. "Aunt" Julia was responsible for the children's noon meal.

When "Aunt" Matilda was old enough to do a little work, she was moved into the house where she swept floors, waited on the table, and fanned flies while a meal was being served. The adult females who lived in the house did most of the weaving and sewing. All the summer, garments were made and put away for winter use. Two dresses of osnaburg were then given each person.

The field hands, always considered an inferior group by the house servants, worked from sunup to sundown. When they returned from the fields they prepared supper for their families and many times had to feed the children in the dark, for a curfew horn was blown and no lights could be lighted after its warning note had sounded. There was very little visiting to or from the group which dwelt here, as the curfew hour was early.

Saturday varied a little from the other week days. The field work was suspended in the afternoon to allow the mothers time to wash their clothing. With sunset came the preparations for the weekly frolic. A fiddler furnished music while the dancers danced numerous square dances until a late hour.

Home remedies for illness were used much more extensively than any doctor's medicine. Teas, compounded from sage, boneset, tansy, and mullen, usually sufficed for any minor sickness, and serious illness was rare.

Food was distributed on Sunday morning. Two-and-a-half pounds of meat, a quantity of syrup, and a peck of meal were given each adult for the week. A special ration for Sunday alone was potatoes, buttermilk, and material for biscuits. Each family had its own garden from which a supply of vegetables could always be obtained in season. The smaller children had additional delicacies, for they early learned that the house where produce was kept had holes in the floor which yielded peanuts, etc, when punched with a stick.

"Aunt" Matilda was unable to give any information regarding the war, but remembers that her family remained at her former owner's plantation for some time after they were freed. She now lives with her granddaughter who takes excellent care of her. Her long life is attributed to her habit of going to bed early and otherwise caring for herself properly.

PLANTATION LIFE AS VIEWED BY EX-SLAVE

WILLIAM McWHORTER, Age 78 383 W. Broad Street Athens, Georgia

Written by: Mrs. Sadie B. Hornsby Athens

Edited by: Mrs. Sarah H. Hall Athens

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

Sept. 30, 1938

The rambling, one-story frame building where William McWhorter makes his home with his cousin, Sarah Craddock, houses several families and is proudly referred to by the neighbors as "de 'partment house."

William, better known as "Shug," is a very black man of medium build. He wore a black slouch hat pulled well down over tangled gray hair, a dingy blue shirt, soiled gray pants, and black shoes. The smile faded from his face when he learned the nature of the visit. "I thought you was de pension lady 'comin' to fetch me some money," he said, "and 'stid of dat you wants to know 'bout slavery days. I'se disapp'inted.

"Mistess, it's been a long time since I was born on Marse Joe McWhorter's plantation down in Greene County and I was jus' a little fellow when slavery was done over wid. Allen and Martha McWhorter was my ma and pa. Pa, he was de carriage driver, and ma, she was a field hand. Dey brought her here from Oingebug (Orangeburg), South Carolina, and sold her to Marse Joe when she was jus' a little gal. Me and Annie, Ella, Jim, and Tom was all de chillun in our fambly, and none of us warn't big enough to do no wuk to speak of 'fore de end of de big war. You see, Mistess, it was lak dis; Marse Joe, he owned a old 'oman what didn't do nothin' 'cept stay at de house and look atter us chillun, and dat was one of dem plantations whar dere was sho a heap of slave chillun.

"'Bout our houses? Mistess, I'se gwine to tell you de trufe, dem houses slaves had to live in, dey warn't much, but us didn't know no better den. Dey was jus' one-room log cabins wid stick and dirt chimblies. De beds for slaves was home-made and was held together wid cords wove evvy which away. If you didn't tighten dem cords up pretty offen your bed was apt to fall down wid you. Suggin sacks was sewed together to make our mattress ticks and dem ticks was filled wid straw. Now, don't tell me you ain't heared of suggin sacks a-fore! Dem was coarse sacks sort of lak de guano sacks us uses now. Dey crowded jus' as many Niggers into each cabin as could sleep in one room, and marriage never meant a thing in dem days when dey was 'rangin' sleepin' quarters for slaves. Why, I knowed a man what had two wives livin' in de same cabin; one of dem 'omans had all boys and t'other one didn't have nothin' but gals. It's nigh de same way now, but dey don't live in de same house if a man's got two famblies.

"I 'members dat my pa's ma, Grandma Cindy, was a field hand, but by de time I was old 'nough to take things in she was too old for dat sort of wuk and Marster let her do odd jobs 'round de big house. De most I seed her doin' was settin' 'round smokin' her old corncob pipe. I was named for Grandpa Billy, but I never seed him.

"Mistess, does you know what you'se axin'? Whar was slaves to git money whilst dey was still slaves? Dere warn't but a few of 'em dat knowed what money even looked lak 'til atter dey was made free.

"Now, you is talkin' 'bout somepin sho 'nough when you starts 'bout dem victuals. Marse Joe, he give us plenty of sich as collards, turnips and greens, peas, 'taters, meat, and cornbread. Lots of de cornbread was baked in pones on spiders, but ashcakes was a mighty go in dem days. Marster raised lots of cane so as to have plenty of good syrup. My pa used to 'possum hunt lots and he was 'lowed to keep a good 'possum hound to trail 'em wid. Rabbits and squirrels was plentiful and dey made mighty good eatin'. You ain't never seed sich heaps of fish as slaves used to fetch back atter a little time spent fishin' in de cricks and de river.

"De kitchen was sot off from de big house a little piece, but Old Marster had a roof built over de walkway so fallin' weather wouldn't spile de victuals whilst dey was bein' toted from de kitchen in de yard to de dinin' room in de big house. I don't reckon you ever seed as big a fireplace as de one dey cooked on in dat old kitchen. It had plenty of room for enough pots, skillets, spiders, and ovens to cook for all de folks on dat plantation. No, mam, slaves never had no gardens of deir own; dey never had no time of deir own to wuk no garden, but Old Marster fed 'em from his garden and dat was big enough to raise plenty for all.

"De one little cotton shirt dat was all chillun wore in summertime den warn't worth talkin' 'bout; dey called it a shirt but it looked more lak a long-tailed nightgown to me. For winter, our clothes was made of wool cloth and dey was nice and warm. Mistess, slaves never knowed what Sunday clothes was, 'cept dey did know dey had to be clean on Sunday. No matter how dirty you went in de week-a-days, you had to put on clean clothes Sunday mornin'. Uncle John Craddock made shoes for all de grown folks on our plantation, but chillun went barfoots and it never seemed to make 'em sick; for a fact, I b'lieves dey was stouter den dan dey is now.

"Marse Joe McWhorter and his wife, Miss Emily Key, owned us, and dey was jus' as good to us as dey could be. Mistess, you knows white folks had to make slaves what b'longed to 'em mind and be-have deyselfs in dem days or else dere woulda been a heap of trouble. De big fine house what Marse Joe and his fambly lived in sot in a cedar grove and Woodville was de town nighest de place. Oh! Yes, mam, dey had a overseer all right, but I'se done forgot his name, and somehow I can't git up de names of Marse Joe's chillun. I'se been sick so long my mem'ry ain't as good as it used to be, and since I lost my old 'oman 'bout 2 months ago, I don't 'spect I ever kin reckomember much no more. It seems lak I'se done told you my pa was Marse Joe's carriage driver. He driv de fambly whar-some-ever dey wanted to go.

"I ain't got no idee how many acres was in dat great big old plantation, but I'se heared 'em say Marse Joe had to keep from 30 to 40 slaves, not countin' chillun, to wuk dat part of it dat was cleared land. Dey told me, atter I was old enough to take it in, dat de overseer sho did drive dem slaves; dey had to be up and in de field 'fore sunup and he wuked 'em 'til slap, black dark. When dey got back to de big house, 'fore dey et supper, de overseer got out his big bull whip and beat de ones dat hadn't done to suit him durin' de day. He made 'em strip off deir clothes down to de waist, and evvywhar dat old bull whip struck it split de skin. Dat was awful, awful! Sometimes slaves dat had been beat and butchered up so bad by dat overseer man would run away, and next day Aunt Suke would be sho to go down to de spring to wash so she could leave some old clothes dar for 'em to git at night. I'se tellin' you, slaves sho did fare common in dem days.

"My Aunt Mary b'longed to Marse John Craddock and when his wife died and left a little baby--dat was little Miss Lucy--Aunt Mary was nussin' a new baby of her own, so Marse John made her let his baby suck too. If Aunt Mary was feedin' her own baby and Miss Lucy started cryin' Marse John would snatch her baby up by the legs and spank him, and tell Aunt Mary to go on and nuss his baby fust. Aunt Mary couldn't answer him a word, but my ma said she offen seed Aunt Mary cry 'til de tears met under her chin.

"I ain't never heared nothin' 'bout no jails in slavery time. What dey done den was 'most beat de life out of de Niggers to make 'em be-have. Ma was brung to Bairdstown and sold on de block to Marse Joe long 'fore I was borned, but I ain't never seed no slaves sold. Lordy, Mistess, ain't nobody never told you it was agin de law to larn a Nigger to read and write in slavery time? White folks would chop your hands off for dat quicker dan dey would for 'most anything else. Dat's jus' a sayin', 'chop your hands off.' Why, Mistess, a Nigger widout no hands wouldn't be able to wuk much, and his owner couldn't sell him for nigh as much as he could git for a slave wid good hands. Dey jus' beat 'em up bad when dey cotched 'em studyin' readin' and writin', but folks did tell 'bout some of de owners dat cut off one finger evvy time dey cotch a slave tryin' to git larnin'. How-some-ever, dere was some Niggers dat wanted larnin' so bad dey would slip out at night and meet in a deep gully whar dey would study by de light of light'ood torches; but one thing sho, dey better not let no white folks find out 'bout it, and if dey was lucky 'nough to be able to keep it up 'til dey larned to read de Bible, dey kept it a close secret.

"Slaves warn't 'lowed to have no churches of dey own and dey had to go to church wid de white folks. Dere warn't no room for chillun in de Baptist church at Bairdstown whar Marse Joe tuk his grown-up slaves to meetin', so I never did git to go to none, but he used to take my ma along, but she was baptized by a white preacher when she jined up wid dat church. De crick was nigh de church and dat was whar dey done de baptizin'.

"None of our Niggers never knowed enough 'bout de North to run off up dar. Lak I done told you, some of 'em did run off atter a bad beatin', but dey jus' went to de woods. Some of 'em come right on back, but some didn't; Us never knowed whar dem what didn't come back went. Show me a slavery-time Nigger dat ain't heared 'bout paterollers! Mistess, I 'clar to goodness, paterollers was de devil's own hosses. If dey cotched a Nigger out and his Marster hadn't fixed him up wid a pass, it was jus' too bad; dey most kilt him. You couldn't even go to de Lord's house on Sunday 'less you had a ticket sayin': 'Dis Nigger is de propity of Marse Joe McWhorter. Let him go.'

"Dere warn't never no let-up when it come to wuk. When slaves come in from de fields atter sundown and tended de stock and et supper, de mens still had to shuck corn, mend hoss collars, cut wood, and sich lak; de 'omans mended clothes, spun thread, wove cloth, and some of 'em had to go up to de big house and nuss de white folks' babies. One night my ma had been nussin' one of dem white babies, and atter it dozed off to sleep she went to lay it in its little bed. De child's foot cotch itself in Marse Joe's galluses dat he had done hung on de foot of de bed, and when he heared his baby cry Marse Joe woke up and grabbed up a stick of wood and beat ma over de head 'til he 'most kilt her. Ma never did seem right atter dat and when she died she still had a big old knot on her head.

"Dey said on some plantations slaves was let off from wuk when de dinner bell rung on Saddays, but not on our'n; dere warn't never no let-up 'til sundown on Sadday nights atter dey had tended to de stock and et supper. On Sundays dey was 'lowed to visit 'round a little atter dey had 'tended church, but dey still had to be keerful to have a pass wid 'em. Marse Joe let his slaves have one day for holiday at Christmas and he give 'em plenty of extra good somepin t'eat and drink on dat special day. New Year's Day was de hardest day of de whole year, for de overseer jus' tried hisself to see how hard he could drive de Niggers dat day, and when de wuk was all done de day ended off wid a big pot of cornfield peas and hog jowl to eat for luck. Dat was s'posed to be a sign of plenty too.

"Cornshuckin's was a mighty go dem days, and folks from miles and miles around was axed. When de wuk was done dey had a big time eatin', drinkin', wrestlin', dancin', and all sorts of frolickin'. Even wid all dat liquor flowin' so free at cornshuckin's I never heared of nobody gittin' mad, and Marse Joe never said a cross word at his cornshuckin's. He allus picked bright moonshiny nights for dem big cotton pickin's, and dere warn't nothin' short 'bout de big eats dat was waitin' for dem Niggers when de cotton was all picked out. De young folks danced and cut up evvy chanct dey got and called deyselfs havin' a big time.

"Games? Well, 'bout de biggest things us played when I was a chap was baseball, softball, and marbles. Us made our own marbles out of clay and baked 'em in de sun, and our baseballs and softballs was made out of rags.

"Does I know anything 'bout ghosties? Yes, mam, I sees ha'nts and ghosties any time. Jus' t'other night I seed a man widout no head, and de old witches 'most nigh rides me to death. One of 'em got holt of me night 'fore last and 'most choked me to death; she was in de form of a black cat. Mistess, some folks say dat to see things lak dat is a sign your blood is out of order. Now, me, I don't know what makes me see 'em.

"Marse Joe tuk mighty good keer of sick slaves. He allus called in a doctor for 'em, and kept plenty of castor ile, turpentine, and de lak on hand to dose 'em wid. Miss Emily made teas out of a heap of sorts of leaves, barks, and roots, sich as butterfly root, pine tops, mullein, catnip and mint leaves, feverfew grass, red oak bark, slippery ellum bark, and black gum chips. Most evvybody had to wear little sacks of papaw seeds or of assyfizzy (asafetida) 'round deir necks to keep off diseases.

"Dey used to say dat a free Nigger from de North come through de South and seed how de white folks was treatin' his race, den he went back up der and told folks 'bout it and axed 'em to holp do somepin' 'bout it. Dat's what I heared tell was de way de big war got started dat ended in settin' slaves free. My folks said dat when de Yankee sojers come through, Miss Emily was cryin' and takin' on to beat de band. She had all her silver in her apron and didn't know whar to hide it, so atter awhile she handed it to her cook and told her to hide it. De cook put it in de woodpile. De Yankee mens broke in de smokehouse, brought out meat and lard, kilt chickens, driv off cows and hosses, but dey never found Miss Emily's silver. It was a long time 'fore our fambly left Marse Joe's place.

"Marse Joe never did tell his Niggers dey was free. One day one of dem Yankee sojers rid through de fields whar dey was wukin' and he axed 'em if dey didn't know dey was as free as deir Marster. Dat Yankee kept on talkin' and told em dey didn't have to stay on wid Marse Joe 'less dey wanted to, end dey didn't have to do nothin' nobody told 'em to if dey didn't want to do it. He said dey was deir own bosses and was to do as dey pleased from de time of de surrender.

"Schools was sot up for slaves not long atter dey was sot free, and a few of de old Marsters give deir Niggers a little land, but not many of 'em done dat. Jus' as de Niggers was branchin' out and startin' to live lak free folks, dem nightriders come 'long beatin', cuttin', and slashin' 'em up, but I 'spects some of dem Niggers needed evvy lick dey got.

"Now, Mistess, you knows all Niggers would ruther be free, and I ain't no diffunt from nobody else 'bout dat. Yes, mam, I'se mighty glad Mr. Abraham Lincoln and Jeff Davis fit 'til dey sot us free. Dat Jeff Davis ought to be 'shamed of hisself to want Niggers kept in bondage; dey says dough, dat he was a mighty good man, and Miss Millie Rutherford said some fine things 'bout him in her book what Sarah read to me, but you can't 'spect us Niggers to b'lieve he was so awful good.