Chapter VIII: Front Matter (8)

Drucilla said some times their master would rent them out to other white men to work them if he didn't have anything for them to do. Some masters would put their feed out in troughs for them just as they were feeding cattle. Some would give them cotton seed to eat. She said they would go home and cry and tell their master how they were treated and their master would tell them they wouldn't have to go work for any one that did them like that.

In 1865 when the slaves were freed, Drucilla said she felt all out in the world as if she did not have a place to go and their master was afraid to let them stay with him even though they begged to stay, as it was then against the law. She was sent to St. Louis to do servant work, for a white family, that was very wealthy, and she stayed with them for twenty years. Drucilla has been married twice, and is the mother of ten children, but knows of only one daughter, or rather, she was the last one she has heard from out of the three that she thinks are still living, and that was fifty years ago.

Drucilla Martin was a slave in Giles County, Tennessee; Richard Martin was a slave in Memphis, Tennessee.

The aged old couple are going to receive $8.00 apiece per month old age pension, and a check for $80.00 back pay. When worker asked Drucilla what she was going to do with her pension money, she said she was going to build a little house, "As Mammy is tired living in that shack".

When we got up to leave, the old Negro mammy ran out and fell down and kissed our feet. There were two workers stumbling along trying to get down the rocky path that leaves the little shack, with their eyes full of tears, and the muscles of their throats tightened, until they could only wave back, as the feeble voice was heard to ring out over the hill, "Honey chiles come back to see mammy some more, and she'll give yo all somethin' out of her garden."

Hattie Matthews

*Interview with Mrs. Hattie Matthews,*
*aged 58, Farmington, Missouri.*

"Ma mathuh wuz Louisiana Anthony an she married an liv'd in Libertyville, Missouri, in St. Francois County. She are dead now, but ud be 'bout 78 if she war livin'. She wuz born into slavery. Ma grandmuther wuz Harriet Smith, an she wuz born in 'bout 1820 an she war 'bout 40 years ole wen de War begun. She wuz a slabe near New Madrid, Missouri, an died wen she wuz 'bout 90 yars ole. Ma grandmuthuh had 14 childr'n an wen de war ended, her master, Shap Phillips, tak one ob her girls named Phebe an put her on a hoss an took her away with him an we neber heard from her agin. We think she wuz taken south ta work fur som'body. When ma grandmuthuh got free she an my grandfather, who worked fur another master, bought a small farm near Knob Lick, in St. Francois County, Missouri. Dey bilt dem a house an bought only 20 acres at a time an finally had 120 acres.

"I used to lay wake nights a-lis'nen ta stories dat muthuh an grandmuthuh ud tell about slabery days. I know a lot ob stories but hab furgot many ob dem. My, how she cud tell 'bout dose times, an dey ware true too. Wen ma grandmuthuh got married dey jus jumped ober a broomstick an dey ware consider'd man an wife. Dis ware de custom den. De master ud hole de broomstick. I ask grandmuthuh wat she ud a-done had she fall'n ober de broomstick. She say, 'Well I didn't fall, but jump'd clear ober hit.' I member dis 'cause hit seemed so funny. Brogan shoes war wore then. Dey war ob rough leather and de shoes had brass toes. All de clos wuz wove an de only fancy clos ma grandmuthuh had ware giv'n ta her by de Missus.

"Shap Phillips had a good many slabes an grandmuthuh wuz de cook. She wuz very strong an cook'd in kettles bigg'r dan dey habe now. Whenever a negro slabe had a baby she had ta work rite on. If she work'd in de fiel she ud take de baby long and lay hit down in de rail fence corn'r in de sun. De baby had on only a slip. De master ud ride his hoss in de fiel an had a horse whip dat wuz platted, an he ud cut de slabes with dis whip wen de slabes slack'd hup. If de babies cried de muthuh had ta get de master's permishun fore she cud pick up their baby.

"De scraps from de white folk's table war all thrown into a kettle. Ma muthuh ud stan clos by an she ud grab in de kettle with both han's an eat whateber she got. Den, after all de grown slabes did dis, dey wud call 'Pot liquor time' an de childr'n ud run to de kettle an drink wat wuz in de bott'm ob de kettle. Dis wus generally de juice or water frum greens. Sometime de childr'n got a piece ob cornbread. Dis wuz all de childr'n got ta eat an of course dey war always hungry.

"De master had a polly-parrot an dese parrots ud be plac'd ta hear an watch wat de slabes did. Dey war not always seen by de slabes an wen de master wuz away de parrots wud member wat had happ'n'd an report it. One of de slabes wuz bakin' bread an she tok a pan full ob biscuits an hid it under de cushion of de chair. De ole Missus come in an wuz sick an she started ta sit down in de chair. De parrot wuz sittin' up dar an say, 'Missi bissi burn you.' The Missus lifted up de cushion an foun de pan o bread. She wuz sick and couldn't whip de slabe so she wuz goin' to habe de master do it wen he came in. De slabe wuz mad so she tok de parrot an wrung its neck and threw it out hind de house thinkin' she had kil'd de parrot.

"De Missus had to go out dare fur somethin' an de parrot say, 'Poor polly, layin' in de sun.' De master den really beat de slabe wen he came in. Ma grandmuthuh knew de lady dat dis happ'n'd to in New Madrid. Ma grandmuthuh got whipp'd only onc't an de master wuz sorry 'cause she fought back. She wuz strong an a good work'r. Ma grandmuthuh wuz up fur sale on de block once an dey offer'd several thousand dollars fur her but she wuz a good worker an she wuz not sold. Wen de rebel soldiers come de slabes ud hide but wen de Union soldiers com de slabes ud run to dem.

"Wen de master had company he ud tak meat skins an grease de mouths ob all de slabe childr'n. Den wen de company cam de master ud call' all de slabe children in an say, 'You little rascals have been eating!' He wanted to create de impression dat he wuz feedin his slabes better dan de other masters round dare.

"Grandmuthuh said dey had lots ob hoodoo business. I ask her why dey didn't hoodoo de white folks ta get dem out ob de way. She said de negroes couldn't hoodoo de white peoples 'cause dey had strait hair. It wuz somethin' 'bout de oil in de hair. White folks habe ta wash dere hair ta get de oil out, but negroes habe ta put oil in deir hair. But de slabes sure could hoodoo each other. Somebody who wanted ta hoodoo somebody else wud tak snakes an frogs an pulverize um an put de stuff in a bottle. Dey den dug a hole in de groun under de step an buried de bottle in de hole. When de person (for whom the hoodoo was intended) took a step ober dis spot dey wud habe pains in deir legs. Ma grandmuthuh cud see de snakes come up inside deir legs an dey had to cut a hole in deir legs ta let de snakes out. Sometimes dey ud get a person ta take de snakes an frogs from a person, and den de person who put de hoodoo under de step or porch ud lose deir charm and die. Ma grandmuther say she saw many a frog an snake come out ob a person's mouth. De slabes were turrible ta each other. All such as dis went on in de dose days. This here hoodoo business still goes on down in Mississippi. I'm shure glad I don't live down thar. Ma cousin got into an argument with a negro girl down thar an they couldn't settle hit. So she (my cousin) wrote to somebody who wrote back an tole ma cousin all 'bout this here other girl such as her amount of insurance, etc."

Letha Taylor Meeks

*Interview with Letha Taylor Meeks,*
*Smelterville, Missouri.*

"My full name is Letha Taylor Meeks, an' I'se bahn down in Panola County, Mississippi close to da Tallahatchie Ribbah. Mah fathuh an' mothuh wuz Andy and Susan Tayluh. We belonged to Ole Massa Billie Welborn an' our Misses wuz Ole Miss' Cloe.

"Dey had a fine big house, we call it de mansion. Dey had po'ches an' galleries bof. Der wuz trees all aroun', pine trees an' cedahs, an' oak trees. An' de yawd wuz full a flower bushes.--big snowballs an' lilacs, an' rows of flags, an honeysuckle vines, wid de mockin' birds an' doves a singin' roun'--an dey wuz jay birds too. An der wuz big vegitable gahdens an fruit trees. In de sto' room in de fall der wuz a'ways bags full er dried apples an' peaches, an' pumpkin an cahn, strings o' onions a hanging up, an heaps o turnips an' sweet 'taters, an bins fulla 'taters. An' they wuz lotsa cabbages an' collards in shelters in de gahden.

"Miss' Cloe dress mighty fine. She wear calico prints roun' home, but when she dress up she wear silks an' satins' with hoop skirts an a rare-back hat tied unduh her chin.

"When de white folks go tuh church at Fredonia us cullud folks go too but we sits up in de gallery. We didden hab no school but sometime de preacher an his wife 'ud come to stay wid de white folks an dey'd a'ways hab classes fo' us chillern. One time dey stayed dar nearly a yeah.

"Us chillern usta play hide an seek, honey on de bee ball, frog in de meadow, an' eberthing playable. Ah learned tuh spin an ah'd fill quills till ah had a whole basket full an' I'd wind de broches. Mah mothaw hepped with de weavin. Dey made all our clothes--'member one time dey made sech fine gray homespun for de men's pants. Ole Mothuh Ret was seamstress for de white folks--we called her Mothuh Ret--her name was Henrietta. De looms an' spinning wheels was in a big room down in de basement. Dere wuz a big fireplace in de room.

"Mothuh helped wuth de cookin, too. An ah'd help her on cleanin' days. Our folks shore had fine funicher an' things, an' de fines' silver an candles all ovah de house. We made de candles; put a string in de mold, den po' de grease in--Dere was fine candles for company.

"'For de sojers came all de silver an' fine things wuz hid. Dey had two basements--de big one unduh de whole house n'en a small one in back--unduh de small one wuz a cellah, an in dat cellar dey hide all de things--barrels o' taters, sacks o' dried fruits an vegetables, de meats an' lawd, en puvisions--an de silver till dey had it full up--den dey puts back de puncheon boahds--an' fills in wuth dirt jes like it warn't nuthin unduh there.

"Dey had two sons go off tuh war. Columbus came back when de wah wuz ovah but Wallace died wid measles. When he leave to go tuh war, he tell me he gwine tuh come back, wid Lincoln's head on a stick but de Lawd sent him back wid his head in a coffin. Dey had all us cullud folks come through de house to see young Massa lyin dar in de big front room in his coffin.

"Dey was mo dan a hundred slaves. Dey wus three cabins close to de mansion an our fambly lived dar. In de quawters dey wuz 'bout fifty cabins but dat wuz 'bout five mile fum us--over on de udduh place. Young Massa Willyum live in de big house ovah der. He didden go tuh wah an one time de sojers come an' look for him. Dey cain't fin' him so dey burn de house down 'cause dey think he's in dar--but dey nebber bothuh our place.

"Fust time ah ebber seed de Yankees, it wuz one Saturday--I went out tuh let de calves into de grove. When ah look down de road an ah see one man come roun de cornuh, den anudduh--den mo--till ah see it de whole ahmy comin--Den ah's skeered an ah runs back to de house ahollerin', 'De Yankees is comin'.' Dey comes on up de road an into de yawd an' one man grab me an' he say 'Is you de little gal what run to tell um to hide 'cause we's comin'?' Ah tells um I'se de little gal whut run but ah never tells nobody to hide. I is sho' skeered. He hol's me while de mens look aroun' but dey don' tarry long.

"De nex' day, dat wuz Sunday, Ole Forrest come by wid his Rebel sojers--an' dey stole Massa's fine mules. Massa had a fine pair o' matched mules, dey wuz iron gray an' he druv dem to de carriage. Well, early nex' mornin' de feeder, he wuz Henry Nance, he come to our cabin an asks my fathuh is he seed Gains and Fox--dat's de mules. My fathuh say no dey mus' be out in de grove, but he say no, he hunt an' he call an' he whistle fo' em but he can't start 'um no place. Dey hunt some mo' den say dey better go tell Massa. After a little Massa say 'Henry an' Andy, you don' need tuh go to do fiel' dis mornin'.' Dey knows whut dat mean an' dey jes sit dar. Den Massa go out to de dogwood thicket an' he cut a bundle o' switches, all he cud carry. He take de men out to de bahn lot, has 'em take off dey shirts an' he wears out all dose switches. Den he say iffen dose mules not in de lot nex' Monday mawnin' de gonna git double de dose. Massa think dey sell de mules to de sojers an' pocket de money. But by nex' Monday mawnin' my fathuh an' Henry Nance is in Memphis--dey runned away.

"An' de nex' time de Yankee sojers cum through dar, Ole' Uncle 'Lias tuk Massa's fine carriage an' two mules an' him an' three women escaped to Memphis.

"When de war is ovah Massa call us all up an' tell us we's free. He say to my mathuh 'Now Sook',--her name's Susan but dey all call her Sook--he say 'Now Sook, you is free as I is'--but we stay dar jes de same. An' Massa he writ to Memphis fo' mah fathuh tuh come back, but he don' come so Massa go tuh Memphis tuh git him. Massa's got a eatin' cancer an he want my fathuh tuh come back. My fathuh wuz a'ways kind of a fohman. Massa'd tell him whut he wanted dis group o' men to do, an' whut he wanted dat group tuh do, an mah fathuh saw they don it. So when Massa goes fo' him he comes back.

"In Memphis he tells Massa he knows whar one o' his hosses is whut wuz stolen. Massa tells him kin he swear to it, he kin have it. So mah fathuh goes to de law 'bout dat hoss--Dey asks him can he 'dentify it--an' he say it got a white star on its face an' a white stockin on lef' hin' foot. So he git de hoss.

"I'se married 63 years ago--got de license outa Sardis. 'Bout twenty year ago ah went back dar tuh visit--tuk some o' my chillern an' showed 'em de chuch dere at Fredonia whar we usta 'tend service.

"Dey war mos'ly perty good to us down dah--'cose we nevah cud go nowhars 'thout a pass or we'd git whupped. Dey had a doctor woman to take care o'us iffen we's sick. Her name's Miss Ellen--An' dey's good an' careful 'bout womens when dey's gonna have a baby. She wuz jes given light work to do, 'cause dey wanted big healthy famblies.

"One time dey wuz Ku Klux come to de do. Ah nebber seed em 'cause ah run an' crawl unner de bed, but ah heerd um say, 'Please gi' me some water, I ain't had a drink since de battle o' Shiloh.'

"Ole Jeff Davis sho' made it hawd fo' de cullud folks but wid Abe Lincoln an' de grace ob de Lawd we's all free now."

Wylie Miller

*Interview with Wylie Miller,*
*Cape Girardeau Co., Missouri.*

"I'se gonna be 83 cum nex' Nobember. Mah mammy's name wuz Easter. We belong to Ole Massa Henry Miller so we goes by de name o' Miller. Mah daddy's name wuz Israel an he belong to a neighbor name Brown so he go by de name o' Brown. Ole Missus name wuz 'Frohnie an dey had three boys whut went off tuh war. Dey live in a two-story frame house--dat down close to Bloomfiel'.

"De fust time we ever seed sojers, dey wuz a big crowd o' 'em cum up to our place. When us chillern seed 'em we crawl unner de house--white and black, all o' us. De Blue Coats look unner dere an' dey say, 'Come out o' der, you, or we kill all o' you'. We's sure scared but we crawls out. Dey didden hurt us none, but dey 'rests Ole Boss. Dey takes him up stairs an' acks him things. I spects dey didden do him no harm but dey keeps him locked up.

"Dey wuz a feller hangin' roun' dere named Bolen, Nas' Bolen--he wuz a bush-wacker and we seed dem Blue coats chase 'em across a ten acre fiel' but dey didden catch 'em. Den dey take all de bes' meat in de smoke house--we sho' did hate to stan' dere an' see 'em cut down all dem good hams. An dey had de women folks inside a cookin' fo' 'em, an a bakin bread. An' de sojers wuz all roun' de bahn an de gran'ries feedin our cahn to dey hosses. When de sojers lef', my mammy an' a feller name Nash Miller escape an' go off wid de sojers.

"Den one time de Seeseshes, under Marmaduke, come through dar on dey way to Cape. De Blue Coats was camped at Round Pond an dar de Rebel sojers run into 'em an' dar's whar they had de big battle. De Rebels nebber bother us none nuther 'cept jes for gin.

"When de war was ober, Ole Massa call us all up to de fron' porch and tell us now de war is ober an we is free, but it don' make much diffrence. We stays dar jes de same for few year. Ole Massa wuz allus good to his cullud folks, but fo' a spell he had a overseer. He wuz a Denmarker an' his name wuz Martindale an' he wuz tuff.

"I 'members one night de Ku Kluxers came--dey wants a drink o' water. One man say 'Gimme some water. I ain't had no drink sence de battle of Shiloh.' I had to carry water for him 'bout ez fur as fum here to cross de street and dat man drink five big buckets full an say he want mo'. My young Massa Wes, he step up, an' tell um to leave here an he say 'Wylie, don't you carry no mo water.' Dey don' wanta go--dey had on white gowns button' up de front wid black buttons an' masks on dey faces.

"Young Wes, he had a pistol. He call it a Remington an' he jes es soon shoot 'em as to say 'Hodey-do!' So he tell 'em again, 'Git out fum here, I know you.' Den dey goes but dey say to me, 'Boy, we don' wanna ketch you out at night'--an' didden."

Lewis Mundy

*Interview with Lewis Mundy,*
*Hannibal, Missouri.*

_Men Growing Weaker And Wiser_

Lewis Mundy, now living on West Center Street, Hannibal, Missouri, was born in slavery on the farm of John Wright, five miles north of La Belle, Lewis County, Missouri. He has lived in Hannibal more than thirty years, and has a wide acquaintance among both whites and colored people. The following is his story of his life.

"Mr. Wright had eleven slaves, my mother and ten of us children. Mr. Wright had eight children. My father was owned by Billy Graves, whose farm was joined to de master's farm. I don't know where he come from, but mother was brought here by de Wrights from Virginia. Our master and mistress was good to us, but of course my own mother had to whip me often. She used a whip made from twisted buckbrush twigs and did it sting!

"I worked in de fields most generally. When I was small I rode one of de oxen and harrowed de fields. When I was about ten or eleven I plowed with oxen. I'se plowed many times with a moldboard plow with an iron share on it.

"We never wanted for clothes very bad. We wore long shirts dat reached to de knees until we was twelve or fourteen years old. Dem wool shirts sure was warm. We had one pair of shoes a year. Many times I done went after de cows barefoot when dere was more dan a foot of snow on de ground. It didn't seem to hurt me. I was toughened to it.

"After we was freed mother stayed with master for about a year, den she moved over toward Newark and worked out till she got straightened out so she could keep house for herself. I stayed dere for a while longer until I got work on a farm at fifty cents a day. After a while dey paid me seventy-five cents a day. We didn't get nothin' from our master after de war. I 'member de Bowans, though, give dere slaves eighty acres of land.

"I 'members dere was a Ku Klux Klan in de county, but dey never bothered me none. I tended to my own business and never bothered nobody. I never was arrested in my life and I never gives de policemen no trouble.

"I got married when I was about twenty and settled in Jetto in Knox County and worked on a farm. We had two children. One of dem died years ago, and I am living here with my other daughter. After a while we moved to Palmyra. I worked 'round on farms until about 1903, den we moved here to Hannibal. I worked in de Burlington shops for seventeen years, till dey told me I was too old to work any more. I is getting a pension now for more dan a year. Dat sure 'nough helps a lot.

"I has voted ever since I was old enough. Dey used to tell me how to vote. I always belonged to de Baptist Church and belongs to de Helping Hand Baptist now. My mistress belonged to de old time Christian Church and I used to drive her to church with a bay mare she had.

"We used to sing, 'I Am Bound for the Promised Land', and 'Heart (Hark) From The Tombs Mournful Sound', My mother used to sing, 'You All Ought To Have Been There,' 'Roll, Jordan, Roll', and 'Do, Lord, Do Remember Me.' Dey don't sing them old songs no more.

"Mankind: De young folks now days ain't like we used to be. Why, in Monticello dey used to have a log jail, but now dey is got one made of stone and iron. Dey just can't hold 'em no more. I guess it's right dat dis world is growing weaker and wiser. But de young folks has a better chance. Look at de big fine schools dey has now. Dey ought to get along better dan dey do."

Malinda Murphy

*Interview with Malinda Murphy,*
*Farmington, Missouri.*
*Sent in by J. Tom Miles,*
*Farmington, Mo.*

"I was born right here and was about four years old at de time of de war. We was owned by the Hills at Farmington. My mother plowed in the fields, and hauled wood in de snow. We had no shoes and made tracks of blood in de snow. Us little tots had to go all over de field and pick up feathers. De mistress would go along with a stick and say, 'Here is another feather to pick up.'

"When de soldiers came we had a good meal. De soldiers had on blue coats, and when dey came we would be switching off de flies with a long pole with paper on the end. De soldiers would then say 'We don' need that, come on and eat with us.'

"We wore linsey dresses and all slept together and were bound to keep warm. When de war was over we was free to go but de only thing we had was a few rags. So we walked to Valle Mines, twenty-four miles north in Jefferson County. We walked it twice 'cause we would carry a few rags a little piece and den go back after de rest.

"At Valle Mines we could make a little money digging ore and selling it to de store. De mines were on de surface and mother dug in de mines. After we had gone to Valle Mines, Overton Hill, de son of de Hills, came up dere and asked mother where she had hid de money and silver during de war. She told him but after three weeks he came back in a buggy and took mother with him to de plantation and she showed Overton where to dig close to a cedar tree to find de money and silver."

Margaret Nickens

*Interview with Margaret Nickens,*
*Hannibal, Missouri.*

_"Mag" Preaches Thrift_

Margaret Nickens, now living at 1644 Broadway, Hannibal, Missouri, was born in slavery on the farm of Pleasant McCann about six miles from Paris in Monroe County, Missouri. She was a daughter of George Morrison and wife, slaves of Pleasant McCann. The following is her story as she told it:

"Mr. McCann was a rich slave holder. His daughter, Georgia Ann, was married to a Mr. Dawson and lived in Liberty, Clay County. When I was 'bout eight years old de Dawsons come back to Paris to visit. Dey had two children den so dey took me as a nurse for de children. Mr. Dawson didn't believe in slaves and he didn't own none. My mistress had only one slave to do de cooking and she took me for to be de nurse.

"De baggage and slaves and other things dey hauled in a covered wagon and de white folks rode in a rockaway. When we was fixing to leave, dere was lots of people standing 'round. My mother had to stand dere like I wasn't hers and all she could say was, 'Be a good girl, Margaret.'

"When we was at Liberty de first soldiers we seen was General Price's men and later we seen lots of Union soldiers.

"De day dat de slaves was freed Mr. Dawson told me dat I was as free as he was and dat he brought me here and he would take me back if I wanted to go. I said, 'If I still have a mother and father I wants to go to dem.'

"When we got back to Paris my mistress Georgia Ann said, 'Oh, that black good-for-nothing lazy gal, I should have left her at Liberty, but Mr. Dawson would bring her.' I didn't like her 'cause she wasn't very good to me and now I don't want to meet my mistress in either hell or heaven.

"I was about eleven years old den. We moved from dere to Palmyra. My father split rails and built fences (they didn't have wire fence in those days), and shucked corn and worked on farms or whatever kind of job he could get to do. My father didn't get no land nor money like some of de folks did. Most of de white folks was good to de slaves and didn't whip dem unless dey was sure 'nough bad.

"My father come from Virginia and my mother from Kentucky when dey was little. Dey never seen dere parents no more. Dey watched for a long time among de colored people and asked who dey was when dey thought some body looked like dere parents, but never could find dem. Dey was so small when dey left, dey didn't even remember dere names.

"I have been working for de Col. Dan Dulany and de Mahan families here in Hannibal for three generations, more'n sixty years. I'm not working nowhere now since Mr. Mahan died about two years ago.

"I am saving my money, what little I has, but de younger folks now days don't save anything. Dey just want a good time. I tell dem to save for a rainy day even if it's only an umbrella, because it will rain some day."

Margaret Nickens is called "Mag" by her friends. She is about eighty-five years old and lives alone in a home that she owns. She reared and educated one daughter who taught school over a period of forty years in the Negro public school in Hannibal. The daughter died eight years ago.

Eliza Overton

*Eliza Overton, age 88.*
*Interviews with Maggie Kennedy,*
*John Franks, and Emma Body,*
*Farmington, Missouri.*

(_Note:_ Since Eliza Overton, an ex-slave, is now with her daughter, Mrs. Mamie Robinson, in Detroit, the following information was gained from interviews with Mrs. Overton's children now living in Farmington. They are: Mrs. Maggie Kennedy, age 66; John Franks, age 56; and Mrs. Emma Body, age 71. The oldest of the three children can recall life during these days and the others recall stories told them by their parents.)

"Our muthuh, Eliza, was born a slave in 1849, on da farm of her boss, Mr. Madden in New Tennessee, Ste. Genevieve County, Missouri. Eliza's muthuh wuz also a slave. Muthuh wuz sol' with our grandmuthuh to John Coffman of near Coffman, Missouri, in Ste. Genevieve County. Mr. Coffman had thousands of acres. He had three plantations an' one wuz at Libertyville, Missouri. He had 'bout two hundred slaves. The negroes war tak'n frum one plantashun ta the other, and our grandmuthuh work'd at all three places. 'Ole man Coffman' wuz a mean ole slave hol'er. He war afraid of his slaves an' had some one else ta do da whippin'. They war rougher on ma aunt Eleanor, cause she war stubborn. They wud punish de slaves severely fur 'membrance. They whoop'd with a rawhide whop an' trace chains. Wilson Harris wuz whooped at a tree onc't an' when dey got thro' he say he wud fight. They whop him some mor' 'til he was weak an' bleedin'. The other slaves had to grease his shirt ta take it off his back ta keep frum tearin' off de flesh. We can go down thar now and pick out trees whar the slaves war tied an' whipp'd. The trees died on de side whar de slaves war tied. There are three trees on de Coffman farm that I seen dead on one side, an' sum' war in the yard. Thar is one clos' to the Houck Railroad Station thar.

"When John Coffman was sick he say he wuz goin' ta ride 'Jap', a roan hoss, into heaban. So he ask us ta take good care of 'Jap'. I know Coffman didn't go ta heaban 'cause he died an' lef' 'Jap' here.

"Mr. Coffman had a whole row of slave cabins. Our cabins war small an' we had a corded bed, trundle bed ta slip unda' the big bed ta save room, home made split bottom chairs, tin plates, wood'n boxes, an' a fireplace. John Coffman gave us a 'lowance of food. We had hogsheads an' jowls. Many tha time we ran short on food so's one night muthuh went out to whar the hogs war. Mr. Coffman had so many hogs he didn't know how many he had. She had da water hot an' the hogs war a long ways from Mr. Coffman's house. So she hit a hog in da head with the ax an' kill'd it. Afta' killin' it she went to the cabin ta get the water an' when she kum' bak one of the other slaves hed stole de dead hog. So she hit another one in de head an' after fixin' it hid the hog under de puncheon floor of the cab'n. This was done offen. Mr. Coffman use ta kill 'bout one hundred hogs at one time an' den put dem in de smoke-house. Ma muthuh ud get the key to the smoke-house an' load up an' carry some meat home.

"Ma Aunt Comfort tole de white boy ta thro' a knife at ma muthuh. The boy hit ma muthuh jus' 'bove de eye an' den grandmuthuh whop'd Aunt Comfort fur tellin' the white boy to do this.

"In ever cab'n thar war fiddles an' on Sunday we could have a good time. One of de games we wud play out in frunt of the cab'n was 'Swing-Ole Liza Single'. This here game wuz play'd by havin' two rows line up an' a man wud dance up or down the line an' swing each one. We wud all sing an' pat our han's an' feet ta keep time for the dance.

"Thar wuz some preachin' goin' on in the cab'ns an' out under the arbors on Saturday nights an' Sunday. The preacher wuz a slave too. Two songs that we 'member they sung war: 'We'll Bow Around the Altar--Whil'st My Lord Answers Prayer', and 'Git in the Chariot and Ride Right-Along'.

"Our fauthur wuz also a slave of a Mr. Patterson but he wus treat'd well. When Mr. Patterson died our fauther was will'd ta Mr. Patterson's daughter. Our fauthur, Jacob Franks, wuz a trusted negro an' a teamster who drove frum Ste. Genevieve ta the plantashun. He used ta swim the river 'Aux Vases with his team. He'ud bring bak things frum Ste. Genevieve that war hard ta git. Salt wuz hard ta git at this time.

"Our muthuh, Eliza, married Jacobs Franks wen she wuz 16 years ole jus' after she wuz free. She wuz always rather puny an' wuz worth very little as a slave. Onc't she was sold with three others an' brot' only $50. Our muthuh has 5 children livin', 19 great grandchildren, and two great grandchildren, Paul Evans, 6, and Andres, 3. Our fauthur died 43 years ago an' our muthuh married a Mr. Overton an' he is also dead now.

"A Mr. Jones bought our aunt an' tok' her ta Shelby County, Missouri. Our aunt had two children by Mr. Jones. One of 'em wuz so white dat Mr. Jones couldn't sell him fur a slave.

"When de slaves war freed, we war tole ta go anywhar we pleas'd. For'nately muthuh married at onc't, but others did not care ta leave thar way of livin' 'cause they had no money, no homes, and did not know how ta do thar own work. But Jim Blackwell, who had been a slave fur John Coffman, saved up a lot of food in his cab'n an' then when he was freed, he went out in da woods an' built him a home of his own. He cut down de trees an' made his cab'n thar an' liv'd.

"I hear a woman stan' up an' say we would be bettah off today in slavery. I say,'Why?' She say: 'You would hab ta look aftah nothin' of your welfare.' 'If that's what she wuz talkin' 'bout', I said, 'ma fauthuh wuz ten years ole fore he put on a pair of pants. He had ta wear wooden shoes an' a tow shirt.' I wud not liv' twenty-four hours, bein' a slave now. I wud' not habe stood it with ma temper."

Delicia Ann Wiley Patterson (Lucinda)

*Interview with Delicia Patterson,*
*St. Louis, Missouri.*

_Delicia Had Some Temper_

The subject of this sketch is Delicia Ann Wiley Patterson, better known as Lucinda Patterson, 92 years of age and lives in a 3 room kitchenette apartment at 2847 Delmar Boulevard, apartment 103.

The old woman is a very neat little brown skinned, white haired person. She lives alone in her neatly furnished snug little quarters. When the writer introduced herself and asked for an interview, Lucinda seemed rather peeved and she said:

"I'm hot, and mad because the landlord sent the paper hanger here and started to clean up my apartment, then come and taken him away before he finished, because I am old.

"I got plenty temper and I been sick, and when I get mad I get sick all over again. I turned off the radio, 'cause I don't want nobody talkin' to me and I don't want to talk to nobody, I've told my history enough. I don't want to tell it no more anyhow, and especially today the way I feel."

But she seemed too good a subject to let go on with a merely perturbed mood, so I visited with her until she was in good humor, and very willingly gave me the following story:

"I was born in Boonville, Missouri, January 2, 1845. My mother's name was Maria and my father's was Jack Wiley. Mother had five children but raised only two of us. I was owned by Charles Mitchell until I was 15 years old. They were fairly nice to all of their slaves and they had several of us. I only got whipped once in the whole 15 years there, and that was because I was working in the garden with one of my owner's daughters and I pulled up something that she did not want pulled up, so she up and slapped me for it.

"I got so mad at her, I taken up a hoe and run her all the way in the big house, and of course I got whipped for that. I did not even have to sleep in the cabins. I slept on a pallet in the bedroom with old marse's children. I was a pet anywhere I worked, because I was always very neat and clean, and a good worker.

"When I was 15 years old, I was brought to the courthouse, put up on the auction block to be sold. Old Judge Miller from my county was there. I knew him well because he was one of the wealthiest slave owners in the county, and the meanest one. He was so cruel all the slaves and many owners hated him because of it. He saw me on the block for sale, and he knew I was a good worker so when he bid for me, I spoke right out on the auction block and told him: 'Old Judge Miller don't you bid for me, 'cause if you do, I would not live on your plantation, I will take a knife and cut my own throat from ear to ear before I would be owned by you.'

"So he stepped back and let someone else bid for me. My own father knew I was to be for sale, so he brought his owner to the sale for him to buy me, so we could be together. But when father's owner heard what I said to Judge Miller, he told my father he would not buy me, because I was sassy, and he never owned a sassy niggah and did not want one that was sassy. That broke my father's heart, but I couldn't help that. Another nigger trader standing right beside my father's owner said, I wouldn't own a nigger that didn't have some spunk. So I was sold to a Southern Englishman named Thomas B. Steele for $1500. He had an old slave he had in his home for years as their housekeeper, and his wife did not like her, and he had to sell her to keep peace at home so he put me in his buggy and taken me home to his wife and told her, 'I bought you another girl, Susianna, but I don't want you to lay the weight of your finger on her when she disobeys. Let me know and I will punish her myself.'

"I lived in that family until after the Civil War was over. Mr. Steele's wife's people had a big family and they visited the Steeles a great deal. Mr. Tom didn't like them because they were Yankees and the Steeles were Union. So one time Mr. Tom was going away on a trip and he knew when he was gone, his wife would have all of her folks in the home visiting, and that was against his wishes. He told me to keep tab on every time her relatives come to the house and how long they stayed, and tell him when he come back home, and that he would leave orders in the home to let me work in the field, so I would not have to bother with that great big family. When he left all his wife's folks come right down on our plantation, so I had to work in the house for them so hard, I did not have time to even look at the field.

"When old boss come home I told him, I had not worked in the field and why. Him and his wife had a big fight about that, and she hated me for a long time, and said, the idea of her husband taking a nigger's word to hers and mistreat her on account of it. But he did not let her bother me about nothing, so I stayed on with them until one day, while I had a fly brush in my hand fanning flies while they ate, she told him something I done she didn't like. Just to please her, he taken the fly brush out of my hand and just tapped me with it. It didn't hurt me a bit, but it made me so mad I just went straight to the kitchen, left all the dishes, put on my sunbonnet and run away. I stayed two weeks. He sent everybody he thought knew where I was after me, and told them to tell me if I would only come on back home, no one would ever bother me anymore. I hid in the woods that whole two weeks and was not afraid. I would be afraid out in those woods now, but I wasn't then. At night I would come up to some of the slave cabins who were my friends and eat and stay all night. So I went back home after my 2 weeks off as a runaway nigger and no one ever bothered me any more either. I came to St. Louis with them, during the Civil War.

"When freedom was declared Mr. Steele told me that I was as free as he was. He said I could leave them if I please, or could stay, that they wanted me and would be glad to have me if I would stay and his wife said, course she is our nigger. She is as much our nigger now as she was the day you bought her 2 years ago and paid $1500 for her. That made me mad so I left right then. Since she was so smart. Her husband told her, now Sue you might as well face it. There are no more slaves and won't ever be any more, regardless of how much we paid for them. So just quiet yourself down, she don't have to stay here if she don't want to, but till this day some of their children come to visit me, but they never give me anything ever.

"I hired myself out to a family named Miller's at $3.00 a week, and lived on the place. I had a baby about 3 years old. I married before the war and when my baby was 2 weeks old they taken my husband in the army. He died in the army. I worked for the Millers about 11 months. One day Mrs. Miller misplaced her silver thimble and she accused me of stealing it. She did not tell me that but she told the white nurse girl, and the nurse told me. I got so mad at her for that, 'cause I never stole anything in my whole life and never been accused of stealing, so I quit. They begged me to stay and offered to raise my salary, I told them I would not work for anyone who felt I would steal. The very next day she found her thimble in the nursery where she remembered she put it herself, but forgot about it at the time. She thought it was lost.

"I don't know what the ex-slaves expected, but I do know they didn't get anything. After the war we just wandered from place to place, working for food and a place to stay. Now and then we got a little money, but a very little. I only voted once in my life and that was when working for Mr. Gerhart. He was a real estate dealer and he taken me to the polls and showed me how to vote for a Republican president. It has been so long ago I don't even remember who the president was, but I do know he got elected. I think the time will soon be when people won't be looked on as regards to whether you are black or white, but all on the same equality. I may not live to see it but it is on the way. Many don't believe it, but I know it.

"My father's owner's children use to take my father in their basement and teach him to read in a blue back spelling book. I never got any education. My English is good because I boarded all the first Negro school teachers and Negro principals St. Louis ever had for years. Charlie Brown, the late Hutchinson Inge, Clarice Hubbard, Wm. Turner and Chas. Newton, the old pioneer Negro teachers had their meals in my home. I had a lovely home, and have lived well in my time right here in St. Louis. I am a member of Central Baptist Church and been there for years. I think this young generation should advance much faster than they do. Their advantages are very good, but they don't seem to be appreciative of them. If I would of had their chance in my day, I really would make good use of it and improve every moment of my life.

"Charlie Brown started me to attending night school, but I couldn't keep my mind on my studies, I was always thinking of home and my business. I was afraid the girl that helped would forget to grind the coffee for breakfast or fail to put everything on the table for breakfast next morning. Many of the teachers had a great ways to go and had to have an early start, and I could not afford to be using the time in the morning doing the things that should be done at night. I always believed in doing things as they should be done, on time.

"That's why my services were valuable, any place I worked, whether as a slave or free, and I still stand by that idea. I have done laundry work so satisfactory that I got $5.00 for doing up one white dress, 50c each for embroidery skirts and 25c a piece for vests. I never did work for nothing but wealthy white people."

Marilda Pethy

*Interview with Marilda Pethy,*
*Montgomery City, Missouri.*

_Sold At 6 Weeks Old_

Marilda Pethy, a former slave now living in Montgomery City, Mo., is a coal black woman with distinctly negroid features. Her voice and manner of speaking are vividly reminiscent of the negro of the "Old South". She lives with her daughter, Polly, and numerous grandchildren whom she tries to rule with an iron hand. This does not work so well with the younger generation which largely disregards the irate old woman. All this lends quite an air of belligerency to the tumble-down building that houses them.

Polly and Marilda sat in the shade of a mulberry tree where the former was ostensibly doing her washing not far from the big iron kettle where she heated her water.

"Yas'sum, I sure remembers dem days", Marilda replied as the questioning began. "Why, I seen people handcuffed together and driv 'long de Williamsburg road like cattle. Dey was bought to be took south. I had two brothers and two sisters sold and we never did see dem no more. I was born in 1857, April first, on a farm two miles south of Williamsburg, on a farm dat belonged to William Hayes. My mother was Louisa Hayes from Memphis. She never seen her mother or father and didn't know her name, so she just went by de white folks' name. You know dat's how dey done in dem days with names. She never had no brothers or sisters here. She was sold when she was six weeks old. Father, he belonged to Billy Martin and he was Sam Martin. He run off to de war 'cause he was tired of bein' whipped and slashed. So he jes' run off and joined de army.

"I was sold with mother when I was six weeks old. We went back to see de old place after we was free. Dat place has been sold and torn down. It had a tall white double log house. Dere was three cabins, it was a large place. De John Bain place, dey calls it de Jeff Jones place, ten miles north of Williamsburg, had de same kind of a house but dey had just two cabins. De Bain place was not so large but dey had a right smart of land.

"We done right well. Dey give us cornbread and buttermilk in a tin can. We crumbled de cornbread up in de buttermilk and dat's all we ever had to eat. Yas'sum, we generally had 'nough. Well, on Sunday mornings we had biscuits made out of dis stuff dat dey feed cows--shorts, dat's it. We had biscuits made out of shorts and sorghum. Dey was plenty of it. We had meat once in a while. Dey was dead oodles of prairie chickens and patridges den but de wild pigeons was hard to kill. We never did get none of dat meat. Christmas never meant no more to us dan any other day. Dey give mother sorghum and shorts to make gingersnaps.

"Dey had a big back log in de fireplace and a forestick and we put de wood in between. It was my job to take care of de dog irons. Dey was kept shinin' with grease. De missus would say, "Marilda, grease de dog irons!' I had to grease dem all over, too. I taken care of de children. Mother done everything. Dey had two cooks but both of dem done all kinds of work. Mother was de regular cook for Mrs. Hayes.

"Old Miss sold de other four children end sent 'em south. Mother and me brought $1,200. When I was nine or ten years old I was put up on de block to be sold. I 'member dat just as well. Hit was just a piece cut out of a log and stood on end. Dey was offered $600 but my mistress cried so much dat master did not sell me. Freedom come soon after dat.

"I often wish dat some of de younger race had lived through dat time. Dey wouldn't have been so sassy and impudent as dey is now. De older people'd have done something 'bout it, too." (Marilda's tone and facial expression left no doubt as to what the older people would have done.)

"Dey was a battle on Freeman up on Grand Prairie. Dat's northwest of Williamsburg, up where de Mattocks and Harrisons lived. It was right where de Ridgeways and de Jones's lived. Dey was fightin' in de evening and dey fit all night. I took de baby upstairs on de porch and listened to de fighting. 'Rally once again, boys, rally once again!' Boom! Boom! Bang! Bang! Boom!" (Marilda was equal to at least one army.)