Chapter II: Part 2

"I been so exhausted working, I was like an inch-worm crawling along a roof. I worked till I thought another lick would kill me. If you had something to do, you did it or got whipped. Once I was so tired I couldn't work any more. I crawled in a hole under the house and stayed there till I was rested. I didn't get whipped, either.

"I never will forget it--how my master always used to say, 'Keep a nigger down' I never will forget it. I used to wait on table and I heard them talk.

"The only fun we had was on Sunday evening, after work. That was the only chance we got. We used to go away off from the house and play in the haystack.

"Our folks was so cruel, the slaves used to whisper 'round. Some of them knew they was free, even if the white folks didn't want 'em to find out they was free. They went off in the woods sometimes. But I was just a little kid and I wasn't allowed to go around the big folks.

"I seen enough what the old folks went through. My sister and I went through enough after slavery was over. For twenty-one long years we were enslaved, even after we were supposed to be free. We didn't even know we were free. We had to wash the white people's feet when they took their shoes off at night--the men and women.

"Sundays the slaves would wash out their clothes. It was the only time they had to themselves. Some of the old men worked in their tobacco patches. We never observed Christmas. We never had no holidays, son, _no, sir_! We didn't know what the word was.

"I never saw any slave funerals. Some slaves died, but I never saw any of them buried. I didn't see any funerals at all.

"The white folks would come down to the cabins to marry the slaves. The master or mistress would read a little out of a book. That's all there was to it.

"We used to play a game called 'Hulgul'. We'd play it in the cabins and sometimes with the white children. We'd hold hazelnuts in our hands. I'd say 'Hulgul' How many? You'd guess. If you hit it right, you'd get them all and it would be your turn to say 'Hulgul'. If you'd say 'Three!' and I only had two, you'd have to give me another to make three.

"The kids nowadays can go right to the store and buy a ball to play with. We'd have to make a ball out of yarn and put a sock around it for a cover. Six of us would stay on one side of a house and six on the other side. Then we'd throw the ball over the roof and say 'Catch!' If you'd catch it you'd run around to the; other side and hit somebody, then start over. We worked so hard we couldn't play long on Sunday evenings.

"School? We never seen the inside of a schoolhouse. Mistress used to read the Bible to us every Sunday morning.

"We say two songs I still remember.

"I think when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
How he called little children like lambs to his fold,
I should like to have been with them then.

"I wish that his hands had been placed on my head,
That his arms had been thrown around me,
That I might have seen his kind face when he said
'Let the little ones come unto me.'

"Yet still to his footstool in prayer I nay go
And ask for a share of his love,
And that I might earnestly seek Him below
And see Him and hear Him above.

"Then there was another:

"I want to be an angel
And with the angels stand
With a crown upon my Forehead
And a harp within my hand.

"And there before my Saviour,
So glorious and so bright,
I'd make the sweetest music
And praise him day and night.

"And as soon as we got through singing those songs, we had to get right out to work. I was always glad when they called us in the house to Sunday school. It was the only chance we'd get to rest.

"When the slaves got sick, they'd take and look after themselves. My master had a whole wall of his house for medicine, just like a store. They made their own medicines and pills. My mistress's brother, Dr. Jim Taylor, was a doctor. They done their own doctoring. I still have the mark where I was vaccinated by my master.

"People was lousy in them days. I always had to pick louses from the heads of the white children. You don't find children like that nowadays.

"My mistress had a little roan horse. She went all through the war on that horse. Us little kids never went around the big folks. We didn't watch folks faces to learn, like children do now. They wouldn't let us. All I know about the Civil War was that it was goin' on. I heard talk about killin' and so on, but I didn't know no thin' about it.

"My mother was the last slave to get off the plantation. She travelled across the plantation all night with us children. It was pouring rain. The white folks surrounded her and took away us children, and gave her so many minutes to get off the plantation. We never saw her again. She died away from us.

"My brother came to see us once when slavery was over. He was grown up. My master wasn't going to let him see us and he took up his gun. My mistress said he should let him see us. My brother gave me a little coral ring. I thought it was the prettiest thing I ever saw.

"I made my sister leave. I took a rolling pin to make her go and she finally left. They didn't have any more business with us than you have right now.

"I remember when Yankee soldiers came riding through the yard. I was scared and ran away crying. I can see them now. Their swords hung at their sides and their horses walked proud, as if they walked on their hind legs. The master was in the field trying to hide his money and guns and things. The soldiers said, 'We won't hurt you, child.' It made me feel wonderful.

"What I call the Ku Klux were those people who met at night and if they heard anybody saying you was free, they would take you out at night and whip you. They were the plantation owners. I never saw them ride, but I heard about them and what they did. My master used to tell us he wished he knew who the Ku Kluxers were. But he knew, all right, I used to wait on table and I heard them talking. 'Gonna lynch another nigger tonight!'

"The slaves tried to get schools, but they didn't get any. Finally they started a few schools in little log cabins. But we children, my sister and I, never went to school.

"I married William L. Davison, when I was thirty-two years old. That was after I left the plantation. I never had company there. I had to _work_. I have only one grandchild still living, Willa May Reynolds. She taught school in City Grove, Tennessee. She's married now.

"I thought Abe Lincoln was a great man. What little I know about him, I always thought he was a great man. He did a lot of good.

"Us kids always used to sing a song, 'Gonna hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree as we go marchin' home.' I didn't know what it meant at the time.

"I never knew much about Booker T. Washington, but I heard about him. Frederick Douglass was a great man, too. He did lots of good, like Abe Lincoln.

"Well, slavery's over and I think that's a grand thing. A white lady recently asked me, 'Don't you think you were better off under the white people?' I said 'What you talkin' about? The birds of the air have their freedom'. I don't know why she should ask me that anyway.

"I belong to the Third Baptist Church. I think all people should be religious. Christ was a missionary. He went about doing good to people. You should be clean, honest, and do everything good for people. I first turn the searchlight on myself. To be a true Christian, you must do as Christ said: 'Love one another'. You know, that's why I said I didn't want to tell about my life and the terrible things that I and my sister Mary suffered. I want to forgive those people. Some people tell me those people are in hell now. But I don't think that. I believe we should all do good to everybody."

Betty Lugabell, Reporter [TR: also reported as Lugabill] Harold Pugh, Editor R.S. Drum, Supervisor Jun 9, 1937

Folklore: Ex-Slaves Paulding Co., District 10

MARY BELLE DEMPSEY Ex-Slave, 87 years

"I was only two years old when my family moved here, from _Wilford_ county, Kentucky. 'Course I don't remember anything of our slave days, but my mother told me all about it."

"My mother and father were named Sidney Jane and William Booker. I had one brother named George William Booker."

"The man who owned my father and mother was a good man." He was good to them and never 'bused them. He had quite a large plantation and owned 26 slaves. Each slave family had a house of their own and the women of each family prepared the meals, in their cabins. These cabins were warm and in good shape."

"The master farmed his land and the men folks helped in the fields but the women took care of their homes."

"We had our churches, too. Sometimes the white folks would try to cause trouble when the negroes were holding their meetings, then a night the men of the church would place chunks and matches on the white folks gate post. In the morning the white folks would find them and know that it was a warning if they din't quit causing trouble their buildings would be burned."

"There was a farm that joined my parents' master's place and the owner was about ready to sell the mother slave with her five small children. The children carried on so much because they were to be separated that the mistress bought them back although she had very little money to spare."

"I don't know any more slave stories, but now I am getting old, and I know that I do not have long to live, but I'm not sorry, I am, ready to go. I have lived as the Lord wants us to live and I know that when I die I shall join many of my friends and relatives in the Lord's place. Religion is the finest thing on earth. It is the one and only thing that matters."

Former Slave Interview, Special Aug 16, 1937

Butler County, District #2 Middletown

MRS. NANCE EAST 809 Seventeenth Ave., Middletown, Ohio

"Mammy" East, 809 Seventeenth Ave., Middletown, Ohio, rules a four-room bungalow in the negro district set aside by the American Rolling Mill Corporation. She lives there with her sons, workers in the mill, and keeps them an immaculate home in the manner which she was taught on a Southern plantation. Her house is furnished with modern electrical appliances and furniture, but she herself is an anachronism, a personage with no faith in modern methods of living, one who belongs in that vague period designated as "befo' de wah."

"I 'membahs all 'bout de slave time. I was powerful small but my mother and daddy done tole me all 'bout it. Mother and daddy bofe come from Vaginny; mother's mama did too. She was a weaver and made all our clothes and de white folks clothes. Dat's all she ever did; just weave and spin. Gran'mama and her chilluns was _sold_ to the Lett fambly, two brothers from Monroe County, Alabama. _Sole_ jist like cows, honey, right off the block, jist like cows. But they was good to they slaves.

"My mother's last name was Lett, after the white folks, and my daddy's name was Harris Mosley, after his master. After mother and daddy married, the Mosleys done bought her from the Letts so they could be together. They was brother-in-laws. Den I was named after Miss Nancy. Dey was Miss Nancy and Miss Hattie and two boys in the Mosleys. Land, honey, they had a big (waving her hands in the air) plantation; a whole section; and de biggest home you done ever see. We darkies had cabins. Jist as clean and nice. Them Mosleys, they had a grist mill and a gin. They like my daddy and he worked in de mill for them. Dey sure was good to us. My mother worked on de place for Miss Nancy."

Mammy East, in a neat, voile dress and little pig-tails all over her head, is a tall, light-skinned Negro, who admits that she would much rather care for children than attend to the other duties of the little house she owns; but the white spreads on the beds and the spotless kitchen is no indication of this fact. She has a passion for the good old times when the Negroes had security with no responsibility. Her tall, statuesque appearance is in direct contrast to the present-day conception of old southern "mammmies."

"De wah, honey? Why, when dem Yankees come through our county mother and Miss Nancy and de rest hid de hosses in de swamps and hid other things in the house, but dey got all the cattle and hogs. Killed 'em, but only took the hams. Killed all de chickens and things, too. But dey didn't hurt the house.

"After de wah, everybody jist went on working same as ever. Then one day a white mans come riding through the county and tole us we was free. _Free!_ Honey, did yo' hear _that_? Why we always had been free. He didn't know what he was talking 'bout. He kept telling us we was free and dat we oughtn't to work for no white folks 'less'n we got paid for it. Well Miss Nancy took care of us then. We got our cabin and a piece of ground for a garden and a share of de crops. Daddy worked in de mill. Miss Nancy saw to it that we always had nice clothes too.

"Ku Klux, honey? Why, we nevah did hear tell of no sich thing where we was. Nevah heered nothin' 'bout dat atall until we come up here, and dey had em here. Law, honey, folks don't know when dey's well off. My daddy worked in de mill and save his money, and twelve yeahs aftah de wah he bought two hundred and twenty acres of land, 'bout ten miles away. Den latah on daddy bought de mill from de Mosleys too. Yas'm, my daddy was well off.

"My, you had to be somebody to votes. I sure do 'membahs all 'bout dat. You had to be edicated and have money to votes. But I don' 'membahs no trouble 'bout de votin'. Not where we come from, no how.

"I was married down dere. Mah husband's fust name was Monroe after the county we lived in. My chilluns was named aftah some of the Mosleys. I got a Ed and Hattie. Aftah my daddy died we each got forty acahs. I sold mine and come up here to live with my boys.

"But honey dis ain't no way to raise chilluns. Not lak dey raised now. All dis dishonesty and stealin' and laziness. _No mam!_ Look here at my gran'sons. Eatin' offen dey daddy. No place for 'em. Got edication, and caint git no jobs outside cuttin' grass and de like. Down on de plantation ev'body worked. No laziness er 'oneriness, er nothin! I tells yo' honey, I sure do wish these chilluns had de chances we had. Not much learnin', but we had up-bringin'! Look at dem chilluns across de street. Jist had a big fight ovah dere, and dey mothah's too lazy to do any thing 'bout it. No'm, nevah did see none o' dat when we was young. Gittin' in de folkeses hen houses and stealing, and de carryins on at night. _No mam!_ I sure do wish de old times was here.

"I went back two-three yeahs ago, to de old home place, and dere it was, jist same as when I was livin' with Miss Nancy. Co'se, theys all dead and gone now, but some of the gran'chilluns was around. Yas'm, I membahs heap bout dem times."

Miriam Logan, Reporter Lebanon, Ohio

Warren County, District 21

Story of WADE GLENN from Winston-Salem North Carolina: (doesn't know his age)

"Yes Madam, I were a slave--I'm old enough to have been born into slavery, but I was only a baby slave, for I do not remember about slavery, I've just heard them tell about it. My Mammy were Lydia Glenn, and father were Caesar Glenn, for they belonged to old Glenn. I've heard tell he were a mean man too. My birthday is October 30th--but what year--I don't know. There were eight brothers and two sisters. We lived on John Beck's farm--a big farm, and the first work for me to do was picking up chips o' wood, and lookin' after hogs.

"In those days they'd all kinds of work by hand on the farm. No Madam, no cotton to speak of, or tobacco _then_. Just farmin' corn, hogs, wheat fruit,--like here. Yes Madam, that was all on John Beck's farm except the flax and the big wooley sheep. Plenty of nice clean flax-cloth suits we all had.

"Beck wasn't so good--but we had enough to eat, wear, and could have our Saturday afternoon to go to town, and Sunday for church. We sho did have church, large meetin'--camp meetin'--with lot of singin' an shoutin' and it was fine! Nevah was no singer, but I was a good dancer in my day, yes--yes Madam I were a good dancer. I went to dances and to church with my folks. My father played a violin. He played well, so did my brother, but I never did play or sing. Mammy sang a lot when she was spinning and weaving. She sing an' that big wheel a turnin.'

"When I can read my title clear,
Up Yonder, Up Yonder, Up Yonder!

and another of her spinnin' songs was a humin:--

"The Promise of God Salvation free to give..."

"Besides helpin' on the farm, father was ferryman on the Yadkin River for Beck. He had a boat for hire. Sometimes passengers would want to go a mile, sometimes 30. Father died at thirty-five. He played the violin fine. My brother played for dances, and he used to sing lots of songs:--

"Ol' Aunt Katy, fine ol' soul,
She's beatin' her batter,
In a brand new bowl...

--that was a fetchin' tune, but you see I can't even carry it. Maybe I could think up the words of a lot of those ol' tunes but they ought to pay well for them, for they make money out of them. I liked to go to church and to dances both. For a big church to sing I like 'Nearer My God to Thee'--there isn't anything so good for a big crowd to sing out big!

"Father died when he was thirty-five of typhoid. We all had to work hard. I came up here in 1892--and I don't know why I should have, for Winston-Salem was a big place. I've worked on farm and roads. My wife died ten years ago. We adopted a girl in Tennennesee years ago, and she takes a care of me now. She was always good to us--a good girl. Yes, Madam."

Wade Glenn proved to be not nearly so interesting as his appearance promised. He is short; wears gold rimmed glasses; a Southern Colonel's Mustache and Goatee--and capitals are need to describe the style! He had his comical-serious little countenance topped off with a soft felt hat worn at the most rakish angle. He can't carry a tune, and really is not musical. His adopted daughter with whom he lives is rated the town's best colored cook.

Ohio Guide, Special Ex-Slave Stories August 16, 1937

DAVID A. HALL

"I was born at Goldsboro, N.C., July 25, 1847. I never knew who owned my father, but my mother's master's name was Lifich Pamer. My mother did not live on the plantation but had a little cabin in town. You see, she worked as a cook in the hotel and her master wanted her to live close to her work. I was born in the cabin in town.

"No, I never went to school, but I was taught a little by my master's daughter, and can read and write a little. As a slave boy I had to work in the military school in Goldsboro. I waited on tables and washed dishes, but my wages went to my master the sane as my mother's.

"I was about fourteen when the war broke out, and remember when the Yankees came through our town. There was a Yankee soldier by the name of Kuhns who took charge of a Government Store. He would sell tobacco and such like to the soldiers. He was the man who told me I was free and then give me a job working in the store.

"I had some brothers and sisters but I do not remember them--can't tell you anything about them.

"Our beds were homemade out of poplar lumber and we slept on straw ticks. We had good things to eat and a lot of corn cakes and sweet potatoes. I had pretty good clothes, shoes, pants and a shirt, the same winter and summer.

"I don't know anything about the plantation as I had to work in town and did not go out there very much. No, I don't know how big it was or how many slaves there was. I never heard of any uprisings either.

"Our overseer was 'poor white-trash', hired by the master. I remember the master lived in a big white house and he was always kind to his slaves, so was his wife and children, but we didn't like the overseer. I heard of some slaves being whipped, but I never was and I did not see any of the others get punished. Yes, there was a jail on the plantation where slaves had to go if they wouldn't behave. I never saw a slave in chains but I have seen colored men in the chain gang since the war.

"We had a negro church in town and slaves that could be trusted could go to church. It was a Methodist Church and we sang negro spirituals.

"We could go to the funeral of a relative and quit work until it was over and then went back to work. There was a graveyard on the plantation.

"A lot of slaves ran away and if they were caught they were brought back and put in the stocks until they were sold. The master would never keep a runaway slave. We used to have fights with the 'white trash' sometimes and once I was hit by a rock throwed by a white boy and that's what this lump on my head is.

"Yes, we had to work every day but Sunday. The slaves did not have any holidays. I did not have time to play games but used to watch the slaves sing and dance after dark. I don't remember any stories.

"When the slaves heard they had been set free, I remember a lot of them were sorry and did not want to leave the plantation. No, I never heard of any in our section getting any mules or land.

"I do remember the 'night riders' that come through our country after the war. They put the horse shoes on the horses backwards and wrapped the horses feet in burlap so we couldn't hear them coming. The colored folks were deathly afraid of these men and would all run and hide when they heard they were coming. These 'night riders' used to steal everything the colored people had--even their beds and straw ticks.

"Right after the war I was brought north by Mr. Kuhns I spoke of, and for a short while I worked at the milling trade in Tiffin and came to Canton in 1866. Mr. Kuhns owned a part in the old flour mill here (now the Ohio Builders and Milling Co.) and he give me a job as a miller. I worked there until the end of last year, 70 years, and I am sure this is a record in Canton. No, I never worked any other place.

"I was married July 4, 1871 to Jennie Scott in Massillon. We had four children but they are all dead except one boy. Our first baby--a girl named Mary Jane, born February 21, 1872, was the first colored child born in Canton. My wife died in 1926. No, I do not know when she was born, but I do know she was not a slave.

"I started to vote after I came north but did not ever vote in the south. I do not like the way the young people of today live; they are too fast and drink too much. Yes, I think this is true of the white children the same as the colored.

"I saved my money when I worked and when I quit I had three properties. I sold one of these, gave one to my son, and I am living in the other. No, I have never had to ask for charity. I also get a pension check from, the mill where I worked so long.

"I joined church simply because I thought it would make me a better man and I think every one should belong. I have been a member of St. Paul's A.M.E. church here in Canton for 54 years. Yesterday (Sunday, August 15, 1937) our church celebrated by burning the mortgage. As I was the oldest member I was one of the three who lit it, the other two are the only living charter members. My church friends made me a present yesterday of $100.00 which was a birthday gift. I was 90 years old the 25th of last month."

Hall resides at 1225 High Ave., S.W., Canton, Ohio.

Miriam Logan Lebanon, Ohio

MRS. CELIA HENDERSON, aged 88. Born Hardin County, Kentucky in 1849

(drawing of Celia Henderson) [TR: no drawing found]

"Mah mammy were Julia Dittoe, an pappy, he were name Willis Dittoe. Dey live at Louieville till mammy were sold fo' her marster's debt. She were a powerful good cook, mammy were--an she were sol' fo to pay dat debt."

"She tuk us four chillen 'long wid her, an pappy an th' others staid back in Louieville. Dey tuk us all on a boat de Big Ribber--evah heah ob de big ribber? Mississippi its name--but we calls it de big ribber."

"_Natchez on de hill_--dats whaah de tuk us to. Nactchez-on-de-hill dis side of N' Or'leans. Mammy she have eleven chillen. No 'em, don't 'member all dem names no mo'. No 'em, nevah see pappy no moah. Im 'member mammy cryin' goin' down on de boat, and us chillen a cryin' too, but de place we got us was a nice place, nicer den what we left. Family 'o name of GROHAGEN it was dat got us. Yas'em dey was nice to mammy fo' she was a fine cook, mammy wus. A fine cook!"

"Me? Go'Long! I ain't no sech cook as my mammy was. But mah boy, he were a fine cook. I ain't nothin' of a cook. Yas'em, I cook fo Mis Gallagher, an fo 4 o' de sheriffs here, up at de jail. But de fancy cookin' I ain't much on, no'em I ain't. But mah boy an mammy now, dey was fine! Mah boy cook at hotels and wealthy homes in Louieville 'til he died."

"Dey was cotton down dere in Natchez, but no tobacco like up here. No 'em, I nevah wuk in cotton fields. I he'p mammy tote water, hunt chips, hunt pigs, get things outa de col' house. Dat way, I guess I went to wuk when I wuz about 7 or 8 yeahs ol'. Chillen is sma't now, an dey hafto be taught to wuk, but dem days us culled chillen wuk; an we had a good time wukin' fo dey wernt no shows, no playthings lak dey have now to takey up day time, no'em."

"Nevah no church fo' culled people does I 'member in Natchez. One time dey was a drouth, an de water we hauls from way ovah to de rivah. Now dat wuz down right wuk, a haulin dat water. Dey wuz an ol' man, he were powerful in prayer, an gather de darkies unda a big tree, an we all kneels down whilse he pray fo de po' beastes what needs good clean water fo to drink. Dat wuz a putty sight, dat church meetin' under de big tree. I alus member dat, an how, dat day he foun a spring wid he ol' cane, jes' like a miracle after prayer. It were a putty sight to see mah cows an all de cattle a trottin' fo dat water. De mens dey dug out a round pond fo' de water to run up into outa de spring, an it wuz good watah dat wudn't make de beastes sick, an we-all was sho' happy.'"

"Yes'em, I'se de only one of mammy's chillen livin'. She had 11 chillen. Mah gran'na on pappy's side, she live to be one hundred an ten yeah's ol' powerful ol' ev'y body say, an she were part Indian, gran'ma were, an dat made her live to be ol'.

"Me? I had two husband an three chillen. Mah firs' husban die an lef' me wid three little chillens, an mah secon' husban', he die 'bout six yeahs ago. Ah cum heah to Lebanon about forty yeahs ago, because mah mammy were heah, an she wanted me to come. When ah wuz little, we live nine yeahs in Natchez on de hill. Den when de wah were ovah Mammy she want to go back to Louieville fo her folks wuz all theah. Ah live in Louieville til ah cum to Lebanon. All ah 'members bout de close o'de wah, wuz dat white folks wuz broke up an po' down dere at Natchez; and de fus time ah hears de EMANICAPTION read out dey was a lot o' prancin 'roun, an a big time."

"Ah seen soldiers in blue down there in Natchez on de hill, oncet ah seen dem cumin down de road when ah were drivin mah cows up de road. Ah wuz scared sho, an' ah hid in de bushes side o' de road til dey went by, don' member dat mah cows was much scared though." Mammy say 'bettah hide when you sees sojers a-marchin by, so dat time a whole line o dem cum along and I hide."

"Down dere mammy done her cookin' outa doors, wid a big oven. Yo gits yo fiah goin' jes so under de oven, den you shovels some fiah up on top de oven fo to get you bakin jes right. Dey wuz big black kettles wid hooks an dey run up an down like on pulleys ovah de oven stove. Den dere wuz de col'house. No 'lectric ice box lak now, but a house under groun' wheah things wuz kept jest as col' as a ice box. No'em don't 'member jes how it were fix inside."

"Yas'em we comes back to Louieville. Yes'em mah chillen goes to school, lak ah nevah did. Culled teachers in de culled school. Yes'em mah chillen went far as dey could take 'em."

"Medicin? My ol' mammy were great fo herb doctorin' an I holds by dat too a good deal, yas'em. Now-a-days you gets a rusty nail in yo foot an has lockjaw. But ah member mammy--she put soot mix wid bacon fryin's on mah foot when ah run a big nail inter it, an mah foot get well as nice!"

"Long time ago ah cum heah to see mammy, Ah got a terrible misery. Ah wuz asleep a dreamin bout it, an a sayin, "Mammy yo reckon axel grease goin' to he'p it?" Den ah wake up an go to her wheahs she's sleepin an say it.

"What fo axel grease gointo hep?--an I tol her, an she say:--

"Axel grease put on hot, wid red flannel goin'to tak it away chile."

Ah were an ol' woman mahse'f den--bout fifty, but mammy she climb outa bed an go out in de yard where deys an ol' wagon, an she scrapes dat axel off, an heat it up an put it on wid red flannel. Den ah got easy! Ah sho was thankful when dat grease an flannel got to wukin on me!

"You try it sometime when you gets one o' dem col' miseries in de winter time. But go 'long! Folks is too sma't nowadays to use dem good ol' medicines. Dey jes' calls de Doctor an he come an cut 'em wide open fo de 'pendycitus--he sho do! Yas'em ah has de doctor, ef ah needs him. Ah has de rheumatism, no pain--ah jes gets stiffer, an' stiffer right along."

Mah sight sho am poor now. Ah cain't wuk no mo. Ah done ironin aftah ah quit cookin--washin an ironin, ah likes a nice wash an iron the bes fo wuk. But lasyear mah eyes done give out on me, an dey tell me not to worry dey gointo give me a pension. De man goes to a heap o' wuk to get dem papers fix jes right."

"Yes 'em, I'se de on'y one o' mammy's chillen livin. Mah, gran'ma on pappy's side, she live to be one hundred and ten yeah's ol--powerful ol eve'ybody say. She were part Indian, gran' ma were, an dat made her to be ol."

"Yes'em, mos' I evah earn were five dollars a week. Ah gets twenty dollars now, an pays eight dollars fo rent. We is got no mo'--ah figgers--a wukin fo ourself den what we'd have wuz we slaves, fo dey gives you a log house, an clothes, an yo eats all yo want to, an when you _buys_ things, maybe you doesn't make enough to git you what you needs, wukin sun-up to sun down. No' em 'course ah isn't wukin _now_ when you gits be de hour--wukin people does now; but ah don't know nothin 'but that way o'doin."

"We weahs cotton cloths when ah were young, jes plain weave it were; no collar nor cuffs, n' belt like store clothes. Den men's jes have a kinda clothes like ... well, like a chemise, den some pantaloons wid a string run through at de knees. Bare feet--yes'em, no shoes. Nevah need no coat down to Natchez, no'em."

"When we comes back to Louieville on de boat, we sleeps in de straw on de flo' o' de boat. It gits colder 'n colder! Come big chunks ol ice down de river. De sky am dark, an hit col' an spit snow. Ah wish ah were back dere in Natchez dat time after de war were ovah! Yes'em, ah members dat much."

"Ah wuk along wid mammy til ah were married, den ah gits on by mahsef. Manny she come heah to Lebanon wid de Suttons--she married Sam. Sutton's pappy. Yes 'em dey wuz about 12 o'de fambly cum heah, an ah come to see mammy,... den ah gits me wuk, an ah stays.

"Cookin'? Yes'em, way meat is so high now, ah likes groundhog. Ground hog is good eatin. A peddler was by wid groun' hog fo ten cents apiece. Ground hog is good as fried chicken any day. You cleans de hog, an boils it in salt water til its tender. Den you makes flour gravy, puts it on after de water am drain off; you puts it in de oven wif de lid on an bakes hit a nice brown. No 'em, don' like fish so well, nor coon, nor possum, dey is too greasy. Likes chicken, groundhog an pork." Wid de wild meat you wants plain boiled potatoes, yes'em Irish potatoes, sho enough, ah heard o' eatin skunk, and muskrat, but ah ain't cookin em. But ah tells you dat groun' hog is _good eatin_.

"Ah were Baptized by a white minister in Louieville, an' ah been a Baptist fo' sixty yeahs now. Yes'em dey is plenty o' colored churches in Louisville now, but when I were young, de white folks has to see to it dat we is Baptised an knows Bible verses an' hymns. Dere want no smart culled preachers like Reverend Williams ... an dey ain't so many now."

"Up to Xenia is de culled school, an dey is mo's smart culled folks, ol' ones too--dat could give you-all a real story if you finds dem. But me, ah cain't read, nor write, and don't member's nuthin fo de War no good."

Celia is very black as to complexion; tall spare; has small grey eyes. In three long interviews she has tried very hard to remember for us from her youth and back through the years; it seems to trouble her that she cannot remember more. Samuel Sutton's father married her mother. Neither she or Samuel had the kind of a story to tell that I was expecting to hear from what little I know about colored people. I may have tried to get them on the songs and amusements of their youth too often, but it seems that most that they knew was work; did not sing or have a very good time. Of course I thought they would say that slavery was terrible, but was surprised there too. Colored people here are used to having white people come for them to work as they have no telephones, and most white people only hire colored help by the day or as needed. Celia and Samuel, old age pensioners, were very apoligetic because they are no longer able to work.

WPA in Ohio Federal Writers' Project Bishop & Isleman Reporter: Bishop [HW: Revised]

Topic: Ex-Slaves. Jefferson County, District #5 July 6, 1937

GEORGE JACKSON Ex-Slave, 79 years

I was born in Loudon County, Virginny, Feb. 6, 1858. My mother's name was Betsy Jackson. My father's name was Henry Jackson. Dey were slaves and was born right der in Loudon County. I had 16 brothers and sisters. All of dem is dead. My brothers were Henry, Richard, Wesley, John and me; Sisters were Annie, Marion, Sarah Jane, Elizabeth, Alice, Cecila and Meryl. Der were three other chillun dat died when babies.

I can remember Henry pullin' me out of de fire. I've got scars on my leg yet. He was sold out of de family to a man dat was Wesley McGuest. Afterwards my brother was taken sick with small-pox and died.

We lived on a big plantation right close to Bloomfield, Virginny. I was born in de storeroom close to massa's home. It was called de weavin' room--place where dey weaved cotton and yarn. My bed was like a little cradle bed and dey push it under de big bed at day time.

My grandfather died so my mother told me, when he was very old. My grandmother died when se bout 96. She went blind fore she died. Dey were all slaves.

My father was owned by John Butler and my grandmother was owned by Tommy Humphries. Dey were both farmers. My massa joined de war. He was killed right der where he lived.

When my father wanted to cum home he had to get a permit from his massa. He would only cum home on Saturday. He worked on de next plantation joinin' us. All us chillun and my mother belonged to Massa Humphries.

I worked in de garden, hoein' weeds and den I washed dishes in de kitchen. I never got any money.

I eat fat pork, corn bread, black molasses and bad milk. The meat was mostly boiled. I lived on fat meat and corn bread. I don't remember eatin' rabbit, possum or fish.

De slaves on our plantation did not own der own garden. Dey ate vegetables out of de big garden.

In hot weather I wore gean pants and shirt. De pants were red color and shirt white. I wore heavy woolen clothes in de winter. I wore little britches wid jacket fastened on. I went barefooted in de summer.

De mistress scold and beat me when I was pullin' weeds. Sometimes I pulled a cabbage stead of weed. She would jump me and beat me. I can remember cryin'. She told me she had to learn me to be careful. I remember the massa when he went to war. He was a picket in an apple tree. A Yankee soldier spied and shot him out of de tree.

I remember Miss Ledig Humphries. She was a pretty girl and she had a sister Susie. She married a Mr. Chamlain who was overseer. Der were Robert and Herbert Humphries. Dey were older dan me. Robert wuz about 15 years old when de war surrender.

De one that married Susie was de overseer. He was pretty rough. I don't remember any white neighbors round at dat time.

Der were 450 acres of de plantation. I can't remember all de slaves. I know der were 80, odd slaves.

Lots of mornings I would go out hours fore daylight and when it was cold my feet would 'most freeze. They all knew dey had to get up in de mornin'. De slaves all worked hard and late at night.

I heerd some say that the overseer would take dem to de barn. I remember Tom Lewis. Then his massa sold him to our massa he told him not to let the overseer whip him. The overseer said he would whip him. One day Tom did something wrong. The overseer ordered him to de barn. Tom took his shirt off to get ready for de whippin' and when de overseer raised de whip Tom gave him one lick wid his fist and broke de overseer's neck.

Den de massa sold Tom to a man by de name of Joseph Fletcher. He stayed with old man Fletcher til he died.

Fore de slaves were sold dey were put in a cell place til next day when dey would be sold. Uncle Marshall and Douglas were sold and I remember dem handcuffed but I never saw dem on de auction block.

I never knew nothin' bout de Bible til after I was free. I went to school bout three months. I was 19 or 20 years old den.

My uncle Bill heard dey were goin' to sell him and he run away. He went north and cum back after de surrender. He died in Bluemont, Virginny, bout four years ago.

After de days work dey would have banjo pickin', singin' and dancin'. Dey work all day Saturday and Saturday night those dat had wives to see would go to see dem. On Sunday de would sit around.

When Massa was shot my mother and dem was cryin'.

When Slaves were sick one of the mammies would look after dem and dey would call de doctor if she couldn't fix de sick.

I remember de big battle dey fought for four days on de plantation. That was de battle of Bull Run. I heard shootin' and saw soldiers shot down. It was one of de worst fights of de war. It was right between Blue Ridge and Bull Run mountain. De smoke from de shootin' was just like a fog. I saw horses and men runnin' to de fight and men shot off de horses. I heard de cannon roar and saw de locust tree cut off in de yard. Some of de bullets smashed de house. De apple tree where my massa was shot from was in de orchard not far from de house.

De Union Soldiers won de battle and dey camped right by de house. Dey helped demselves to de chickens and cut their heads off wid their swords. Dey broke into de cellar and took wine and preserves.

After de war I worked in de cornfield. Dey pay my mother for me in food and clothes. But dey paid my mother money for workin' in de kitchen.

De slaves were awful glad bout de surrender.

De Klu Klux Klan, we called dem de paroles, dey would run de colored people, who were out late, back home. I know no school or church or land for negroes. I married in Farguar [HW: Farquhar] Co., state of Virginny, in de county seat. Dat was in 1883. I was married by a Methodist preacher in Leesburg. I did not get drunk, but had plenty to drink. We had singin' and music. My sister was a religious woman and would not allow dancin'.

I have fourteen chillun. Four boys are livin' and two girls. All are married. George, my oldest boy graduated from grade school and de next boy. I have 24 grandchillun and one great grandson. John, my son is sickly and not able to work and my daughter, Mamie has nine chillun to support. Her husband doesn't have steady work.

The grandchillun are doin' pretty well.

I think Abraham Lincoln was a fine man. It was put in his mind to free de colored people. Booker T. Washington was alright.

Henry Logan, a colored man that lives near Bridgeport, Ohio is a great man. He is a deacon in de Mt. Zion Baptist church. He is a plasterer and liked by de colored and white people.

I think it wuz a fine thing that slavery was finished. I don't have a thing more than my chillun and dey are all poor. (A grandchild nearby said, "We are as poor as church mice".) My chillun are my best friends and dey love me.

I first joined church at Upperville, Virginny. I was buried under de water. I feel dat everybody should have religion. Dey get on better in dis life, and not only in dis life but in de life to cum.

My overseer wuz just a plain man. He wasn't hard. I worked for him since the surrender and since I been a man. I was down home bout six yares ago and met de overseer's son and he took me and my wife around in his automobile.

My wife died de ninth of last October (1936). I buried her in Week's cemetery, near Bridgeport, Ohio. We have a family burial lot there. Dat where I want to be buried, if I die around here.

Description of GEORGE JACKSON [TR: original "Word Picture" struck out]

George Jackson is about 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighs 145 lbs. He has not done any manual labor for the past two years. He attends church regularly at the Mt. Zion Baptist church. As he only attended school about four months his reading is limited. His vision and hearing is fair and he takes a walk everyday. He does not smoke, chew or drink intoxicating beverages.

His wife, Malina died October 9, 1936 and was buried at Bridgeport, Ohio. He lives with his daughter-in-law whose husband forks for a junk dealer. The four room house that they rent for $20 per month is in a bad state of repairs and is in the midst of one of the poorest sections of Steubenville.

WPA in Ohio Federal Writers' Project Written by Bishop & Isleman Edited by Albert I. Dugen [TR: also reported as Dugan]

Ex-Slaves Jefferson County, District #2

PERRY SID JEMISON [TR: also reported as Jamison] Ex-Slave, 79 years

(Perry Sid Jemison lives with his married daughter and some of his grand-children at 422 South Sixth Street, Steubenville, O.)

"I wuz borned in Perry County, Alabama! De way I remember my age is, I was 37 years when I wuz married and dat wuz 42 years ago the 12th day of last May. I hed all dis down on papers, but I hab been stayin' in different places de last six years and lost my papers and some heavy insurance in jumpin' round from place to place.

"My mudders name wuz Jane Perry. Father's name wuz Sid Jemison. Father died and William Perry was mudders second husband.

"My mudder wuz a Virginian and my father was a South Carolinian. My oldest brodder was named Sebron and oldest sister wuz Maggie. Den de next brudder wuz William, de next sister wuz named Artie, next Susie. Dats all of dem.

"De hol entire family lived together on the Cakhoba river, Perry County, Alabama. After dat we wuz scattered about, some God knows where.

"We chillun played 'chicken me craner crow'. We go out in de sand and build sand houses and put out little tools and one thing and another in der.

"When we wuz all together we lived in a log hut. Der wuz a porch in between and two rooms on each side. De porch wuz covered over--all of it wuz under one roof.

"Our bed wuz a wooden frame wid slats nailed on it. We jus had a common hay mattress to sleep on. We had very respectable quilts, because my mudder made them. I believe we had better bed covers dem days den we hab des days.

"My grandmother wuz named Snooky and my grandfather Anthony. I thought der wasn't a better friend in all de world den my grandmother. She would do all she could for her grandchildren. Der wuz no food allowance for chillun that could not work and my grandmother fed us out of her and my mudders allowance. I member my grandmudder giving us pot-licker, bread and red syrup.

"De furst work I done to get my food wuz to carry water in de field to de hands dat wuz workin'. De next work after dat, wuz when I wuz large enough to plow. Den I done eberything else that come to mind on de farm. I neber earned money in dem slave days.

"Your general food wuz such as sweet potatoes, peas and turnip greens. Den we would jump out and ketch a coon or possum. We ate rabbits, squirrels, ground-hog and hog meat. We had fish, cat-fish and scale fish. Such things as greens, we boil dem. Fish we fry. Possum we parboil den pick him up and bake him. Of all dat meat I prefar fish and rabbit. When it come to vegetables, cabbage wuz my delight, and turnips. De slaves had their own garden patch.

"I wore one piece suit until I wuz near grown, jes one garment dat we called et dat time, going out in your shirt tail. In de winter we had cotton shirt with a string to tie de collar, instead of a button and tie. We war den same on Sunday, excepting dat mudder would wash and iron dem for dat day.

"We went barefooted in de summer and in de winter we wore brogan shoes. Dey were made of heavy stiff leather.

"My massa wuz named Sam Jemison and his wife wuz named Chloe. Dey had chillun. One of the boys wuz named Sam after his father. De udder wuz Jack. Der wuz daughter Nellie. Dem wuz all I know bout. De had a large six room building. It wuz weather boarded and built on de common order.

"Dey hed 750 acres on de plantation. De Jemisons sold de plantation to my uncle after the surrender and I heard him say ever so many times that it was 750 acres. Der wuz bout 60 slaves on de plantation. Dey work hard and late at night. Dey tole me dey were up fore daylight and in de fields til dark.

"I heard my mudder say dat the mistress was a fine woman, but dat de marse was rigied [TR: rigid?].

"De white folks did not help us to learn to read or write. De furst school I remember dat wuz accessbile was foh 90 days duration. I could only go when it wuz too wet to work in de fields. I wuz bout 16 years when I went to de school.

"Der wuz no church on de plantation. Couldn't none of us read. But after de surrender I remember de furst preacher I ebber heard. I remember de text. His name was Charles Fletcher. De text was "Awake thou dat sleepeth, arise from de dead and Christ will give you life!" I remember of one of de baptizing. De men dat did it was Emanuel Sanders. Dis wuz de song dat dey sing: "Beside de gospel pool, Appointed for de poor." Dat is all I member of dat song now.

"I heard of de slaves running away to de north, but I nebber knew one to do it. My mudder tole me bout patrollers. Dey would ketch de slaves when dey were out late and whip and thress dem. Some of de owners would not stand for it and if de slaves would tell de massa he might whip de patrollers if he could ketch dem.