Chapter IV: Part 4

In a grove not far from the plantation home, the slaves from the nearby estates meet on Sunday for worship. Here under the spreading branches they gathered for religious worship and to exchange news.

When President Lincoln issued his proclamation freeing the slaves, and the news reached the plantation, she went to her master to learn if she was free. On learning it was true she returned to her parents who were living on another plantation.

She has been living with her grandchildren for the past nine years, contented but ready to go when the "Good Lord calls her."

Sarah Probst, Reporter Audrey Meighen, Author-Editor Jun 9, 1937

Folklore Meigs County, District Three [HW: Middeport]

NAN STEWART Age 87

"I'se bawned Charl'stun, West Virginia in February 1850."

"My mammy's name? Hur name wuz Kath'run Paine an' she wuz bawned down Jackson County, Virginia. My pappy wuz John James, a coopah an' he wuz bawned at Rock Creek, West Virginia. He cum'd ovah heah with Lightburn's Retreat. Dey all crossed de ribah at Buffington Island. Yes, I had two bruthahs and three sistahs. Deir wuz Jim, Thomas, he refugeed from Charl'stun to Pum'roy and it tuk him fo' months, den de wuz sistah Adah, Carrie an' Ella. When I rite young I wurked as hous' maid fo' numbah quality white folks an' latah on I wuz nurs' fo' de chilluns in sum homes, heah abouts."

"Oh, de slaves quartahs, dey wuz undah de sam' ruf with Marse Hunt's big hous' but in de back. When I'se littl' I sleeped in a trun'l bed. My mammy wuz mighty 'ticlar an' clean, why she made us chilluns wash ouah feets ebry night fo' we git into de bed."

"When Marse Hunt muved up to Charl'stun, my mammy and pappy liv' in log cabin."

"My gran' mammy, duz I 'member hur? Honey chile, I shure duz. She wuz my pappy's mammy. She wuz one hun'erd and fo' yeahs ol' when she die rite in hur cheer. Dat mawhin' she eat a big hearty brekfast. One day I 'member she sezs to Marse Hunt, 'I hopes you buys hun'erds an' hun'erds ob slaves an' neber sells a one. Hur name wuz Erslie Kizar Chartarn."

"Marse an' missus, mighty kind to us slaves. I lurned to sew, piece quilts, clean de brass an' irons an' dog irons. Most time I set with de ol' ladies, an' light deir pipes, an' tote 'em watah, in gourds. I us' tu gether de turkey eggs an' guinea eggs an' sell 'em. I gits ten cents duzen fo' de eggs. Marse and Missus wuz English an' de count money like dis--fo' pence, ha' penny. Whut I do with my money? Chile I saved it to buy myself a nankeen dress."

"Yes mam we always had plenty to eat. What'd I like bes' to eat, waffl's, honey and stuffed sausage, but I spise possum and coon. Marse Hunt had great big meat hous' chuck full all kinds of meats. Say, do you all know Marse used to keep stuffed sausage in his smoke hous' fo' yeahs an' it wuz shure powahful good when it wuz cooked. Ouah kitchin wuz big an' had great big fiah place whur we'd bake ouah bread in de ashes. We baked ouah corn pone an' biskets in a big spidah. I still have dat spidah an' uses it."

"By the way you knows Squire Gellison wuz sum fishahman an' shure to goodness ketched lots ob fish. Why he'd ketch so many, he'd clean 'em, cut 'em up, put 'em in half barrels an' pass 'em 'round to de people on de farms."

"Most de slaves on Marse Hunt's place had dir own garden patches. Sumtimes dey'd have to hoe the gardens by moonlight. Dey sell deir vegetables to Marse Hunt."

"In de summah de women weah dresses and apruns made ob linen an' men weah pants and shurts ob linen. Linsey-woolsey and jean wuz woven on de place fo' wintah clothes. We had better clothes to weah on Sunday and we weahed shoes on Sunday. The' shoes and hoots wuz made on de plantashun."

"My mastah wuz Marse Harley Hunt an' his wife wuz Miss Maria Sanders Hunt. Marse and Miss Hunt didn't hab no chilluns of der own but a nephew Marse Oscar Martin and niece Miss Mary Hunt frum Missouri lived with 'em. Dey's all kind to us slaves. De Hous' wuz great big white frame with picket fence all 'round de lot. When we lived Charl'stun Marse Hunt wuz a magistrate. Miss Hunt's muthah and two aunts lived with 'em."

"No mam, we didn't hab no ovahseeah. Marse Hunt had no use fo' ovahseeahs, fact is he 'spise 'em. De oldah men guided de young ones in deir labors. The poor white neighbahs wurn't 'lowed to live very close to de plantashun as Marse Hunt wanted de culured slave chilluns to be raised in propah mannah."

"I duzn't know how many acres in de plantashun. Deir wuz only 'bout three or fo' cabins on de place. Wurk started 'bout seben clock 'cept harvest time when ebrybudy wuz up early. De slaves didn't wurk so hard nor bery late at night. Slaves wuz punished by sendin' 'em off to bed early.

"When I'se livin' at Red House I seed slaves auctioned off. Ol' Marse Veneable sold ten or lebin slaves, women and chilluns, to niggah tradahs way down farthah south. I well 'members day Aunt Millie an' Uncl' Edmund wuz sold--dir son Harrison wuz bought by Marse Hunt. 'Twuz shure sad an' folks cried when Aunt Millie and Uncl' Edmund wuz tuk away. Harrison neber see his mammy an' pappy agin. Slaves wuz hired out by de yeah fo' nine hundred dollahs."

"Marse Hunt had schools fo' de slaves chilluns. I went to school on Lincoln Hill, too."

"Culured preachahs use to cum to plantashun an' dey would read de Bible to us. I 'member one special passage preachahs read an' I neber understood it 'til I cross de riber at Buffinton Island. It wuz, 'But they shall sit every man under his own vine and under his fig tree; and none shall make them afraid; for the mouth of the Lord of Hosts hath spoken it." Micah 4:4. Den I knows it is de fulfillment ob dat promis; 'I would soon be undah my own vine an' fig tree' and hab no feah of bein' sold down de riber to a mean Marse. I recalls der wuz Thorton Powell, Ben Sales and Charley Releford among de preachahs. De church wuz quite aways frum de hous'. When der'd be baptizins de sistahs and brethruns would sing 'Freely, freely will you go with me, down to the riber'. 'Freely, freely quench your thirst Zion's sons and daughtahs'."

"How wells I 'member when I wuz converted. I'd thought 'bout 'ligion a lot but neber wunce wuz I muved to repent. One day I went out to cut sum wood an' begin thinkin' agin and all wunce I feeled so relieved an' good an' run home to tell granny an' de uthahs dat I'd cum out at last."

"No, we didn't wurk on Saturday aftahnoons. Christmas wuz big time at Marse Hunts hous'. Preparations wuz made fo' it two weeks fo' day cum. Der wuz corn sings an' big dances, 'ceptin' at 'ligious homes. Der wuz no weddins' at Marse Hunts, cause dey had no chilluns an' de niece and nephew went back to own homes to git married."

"We played sich games as marbles; yarn ball; hop, skip, an' jump; mumble peg an' pee wee. Wunce I's asked to speak down to white chilluns school an' dis is what I speak:

'The cherries are ripe,
The cherries are ripe,
Oh give the baby one,
The baby is too little to chew,
The robin I see up in the tree,
Eating his fill and shaking his bill,
And down his throat they run.'

Another one:

'Tobacco is an Indian weed,
And from the devil doth proceed
It robs the pocket and burns the clothes
And makes a chimney of the nose.'

"When de slaves gits sick, deir mammies luked af'er em but de Marse gived de rem'dies. Yes, dere wuz dif'runt kinds, salts, pills, Castah orl, herb teas, garlic, 'fedia, sulphah, whiskey, dog wood bark, sahsaparilla an' apple root. Sometimes charms wuz used.

"I 'member very well de day de Yankees cum. De slaves all cum a runnin' an' yellin': "Yankees is cumin', Yankee soljers is comin', hurrah". Bout two or three clock, we herd bugles blowing' an' guns on Taylah Ridge. Kids wuz playin' an' all 'cited. Sumone sed: "Kathrun, sumthin' awful gwine happen", an' sumone else sez; "De' is de Yankees". De Yankee mens camp on ouah farm an' buyed ouah buttah, milk an' eggs. Marse Hunt, whut you all call 'bilionist [HW: abolitionist] an' he wuz skeered of suthern soljers an' went out to de woods an' laid behind a log fo' seben weeks and seben days, den he 'cided to go back home. He sez he had a dream an' prayed, "I had bettah agone, but I prayed. No use let des debils take you, let God take you." We tote food an' papahs to Marse while he wuz a hidin'."

"One ob my prized possessions is Abraham Lincoln's pictures an' I'se gwine to gib it to a culured young man whose done bin so kind to me, when I'se gone. Dat's Bookah T. Washington's picture ovah thar."

"I'se married heah in Middeport by Preachah Bill, 1873. My husban' wuz Charles Stewart, son of Johnny Stewart. Deir wuz hous' full my own folks, mammy, pappy, sistahs, bruthas, an' sum white folks who cumed in to hep dress me up fo' de weddin'. We kep de weddin' a secrut an' my aunt butted hur horns right off tryin' to fin' out when it wuz. My husban' had to leave right away to go to his job on de boat. We had great big dinnah, two big cakes an' ice cream fo' desurt. We had fo'teen chilluns with only two livin'. I has five gran' sons an' two great gran' daughters."

"Goodbye--cum back agin."

Miriam Logan, Lebanon, Ohio Warren County, Dist. 2 July 2, 1937

Interview with SAMUEL SUTTON, Ex Slave. Born in Garrett County, Kentucky, in 1854

(drawing of Sutton) [TR: no drawing found]

"Yes'em, I sho were bo'n into slavery. Mah mothah were a cook--(they was none betteah)--an she were sold four times to my knownin'. She were part white, for her fathah were a white man. She live to be seventy-nine yeahs an nine months old."

"Ah was bo'n in Garrett County, but were raised by ol' Marster Ballinger in Knox County, an' ah don remember nothin 'bout Garrett County." When Lincoln was elected last time, I were about eight yeahs ol'."

"Ol' Marster own 'bout 400-acres, n' ah don' know how many slaves--maybe 30. He'd get hard up fo money n' sell one or two; then he'd get a lotta work on hands, an maybe buy one or two cheap,--go 'long lak dat you see." He were a good man, Ol' Mars Ballinger were--a preacher, an he wuk hisse'f too. Ol' Mis' she pretty cross sometime, but ol' Mars, he weren't no mean man, an ah don' 'member he evah whip us. Yes'em dat ol' hous is still standin' on the Lexington-Lancaster Pike, and las time I know, Baby Marster he were still livin."

"Ol' Mars. tuk us boys out to learn to wuk when we was both right little me and Baby Mars. Ah wuz to he'p him, an do what he tol' me to--an first thing ah members is a learnin to hoe de clods. Corn an wheat Ol' Mars. raised, an he sets us boys out fo to learn to wuk. Soon as he lef' us Baby Mars, he'd want to eat; send me ovah to de grocery fo sardines an' oysters. Nevah see no body lak oyster lak he do! Ah do n' lak dem. Ol Mars. scold him--say he not only lazy hese'f, but he make me lazy too."

"De Wah? Yes'em ah sees soldiers, Union Calvary [HW: Cavalry] goin' by, dressed fine, wid gold braid on blue, an big boots. But de Rebels now, I recollect dey had no uniforms fo dey wuz hard up, an dey cum in jes common clothes. Ol' Mars., he were a Rebel, an he always he'p 'em. Yes'em a pitched battle start right on our place. Didn't las' long, fo dey wuz a runnin fight on to Perryville, whaah de one big battle to take place in de State o' Kentucky, tuk place."

"Most likely story I remembers to tell you 'bout were somepin made me mad an I allus remember fo' dat. Ah had de bigges' fines' watermellon an ah wuz told to set up on de fence wid de watermellon an show 'em, and sell 'em fo twenty cents. Along cum a line o' soldiers."

"Heigh there boy!... How much for the mellon?" holler one at me.

"Twenty cents sir!" Ah say jes lak ah ben tol' to say; and he take dat mellon right out o' mah arms an' ride off widout payin' me. Ah run after dem, a tryin' to get mah money, but ah couldn't keep up wid dem soldiers on hosses; an all de soldiers jes' laf at me."

"Yes'em dat wuz de fines' big mellon ah evah see. Dat wuz right mean in him--fine lookin gemman he were, at the head o' de line."

"Ol' Marster Ballinger, he were a Rebel, an he harbors Rebels. Dey wuz two men a hangin' around dere name o' Buell and Bragg."

"Buell were a nawtherner; Bragg, he were a Reb."

"Buell give Bragg a chance to get away, when he should have found out what de Rebs were doin' an a tuk him prisoner ah heard tell about dat."

"Dey wuz a lotta spyin', ridin' around dere fo' one thing and another, but ah don' know what it were all about. I does know ah feels sorry fo dem Rebel soldiers ah seen dat wuz ragged an tired, an all woe out, an Mars. He fell pretty bad about everything sometimes, but ah reckon dey wuz mean Rebs an southerners at had it all cumin' to em; ah allus heard tell dey had it comin' to em."

"Some ways I recollect times wuz lots harder after de War, some ways dey was better. But now a culled man ain't so much better off 'bout votin' an such some places yet, ah hears dat."

"Yes'em, they come an want hosses once in awhile, an they was a rarin' tarin' time atryin to catch them hosses fo they would run into the woods befo' you could get ahold of 'em. Morgan's men come fo hosses once, an ol Mars, get him's hosses, fo he were a Reb. Yes'em, but ah thinks them hosses got away from the Rebels; seem lak ah heard they did."

"Hosses? Ah wishes ah had me a team right now, and ah'd make me my own good livin! No'em, don't want no mule. They is set on havin they own way, an the contrariest critters! But a mule is a wuk animal, an eats little. Lotsa wuk in a mule. Mah boy, he say, 'quit wukin, an give us younguns a chance,' Sho nuf, they ain't the wuk they use to be, an the younguns needs it. Ah got me a pension, an a fine garden; ain't it fine now?"

"Yes'em, lak ah tells you, the wah were ovah, and the culled folks had a Big Time wid speakin'n everything ovah at Dick Robinsen's camp on de 4th. Nevah see such rejoicin on de Fourth 'o July since,-no'em, ah ain't."

"Ah seen two presidents, Grant an Hayes. I voted fo Hayes wen I wuz twenty-two yeahs old. General Grant, he were runnin against Greeley when ah heard him speak at Louieville. He tol what all Lincoln had done fo de culled man. Yes'em, fine lookin man he were, an he wore a fine suit. Yes'em ah ain't miss an election since ah were twenty-two an vote fo Hayes. Ah ain't gonto miss none, an ah vote lak the white man read outa de Emanicaption Proclamation, ah votes fo one ob Abe Lincoln's men ev'y time--ah sho do."

"_Run a way slaves?_ No'em nevah know ed of any. Mars. Ballinger neighbor, old Mars. Tye--he harbor culled folks dat cum ask fo sumpin to eat in winter--n' he get 'em to stay awhile and do a little wuk fo him. Now, he did always have one or two 'roun dere dat way,--dat ah recollects--dat he didn't own. Maybe dey was runaway, maybe dey wuz just tramps an didn't belong to noboddy. Nevah hear o' anybody claimin' dem--dey stay awhile an wuk, den move on--den mo' cum, wuk while then move on. Mars. Tye--he get his wuk done dat way, cheap.

"No'em, don't believe in anything lak dat much. We use to sprinkle salt in a thin line 'roun Mars. Ballinger's house, clear 'roun, to ward off quarellin an arguein' an ol' Miss Ballinger gettin a cross spell,--dat ah members, an then too;--ah don believe in payin out money on a Monday. You is liable to be a spendin an a losin' all week if you do. Den ah don' want see de new moon (nor ol' moon either) through, de branches o' trees. Ah know' a man dat see de moon tru de tree branches, an he were lookin' tru de bars 'a jail fo de month were out--an fo sumpin he nevah done either,--jus enuf bad luck--seein a moon through bush."

"Ah been married twice, an had three chillens. Mah oles' are Madge Hannah, an she sixty yeah ol' an still a teachin' at the Indian School where she been fo twenty-two yeahs now. She were trained at Berea in High School then Knoxville; then she get mo' learnin in Nashville in some course."

"Mah wife died way back yonder in 1884. Then when ah gets married again, mah wife am 32 when ah am 63. No'am, no mo' chillens. Ah lives heah an farms, an takes care ob mah sick girl, an mah boy, he live across the lane thah."

"No'em, no church, no meetin hous fo us culled people in Kentucky befo' de wah. Dey wuz prayin folks, and gets to meetin' at each othah's houses when dey is sumpin a pushin' fo prayer. No'em no school dem days, fo us." "Ol Mars., he were a preacher, he knowed de Bible, an tells out verses fo us--dats all ah members. Yes'em Ah am Baptist now, and ah sho do believe in a havin church."

"Ah has wuked on steam boats, an done railroad labor, an done a lotta farmin, an ah likes to farm best. Like to live in Ohio best. Ah can _vote_. If ah gits into trouble, de law give us a chance fo our property, same as if we were white. An we can vote lak white, widout no shootin, no fightin' about it--dats what ah likes. Nevah know white men to be so mean about anythin as dey is about votin some places--No'em, ah don't! Ah come heah in 1912. Ah was goin on to see mah daughter Madge Hannah in Oklahoma, den dis girl come to me paralized, an ah got me work heah in Lebanon, tendin cows an such at de creamery, an heah ah is evah since. Yes'em an ah don' wanto go no wheres else."

"No'em, no huntin' no mo. Useto hunt rabbit until las yeah. They ain't wuth the price ob a license no mo." No'em, ah ain't evah fished in Ohio."

"No'em, nevah wuz no singer, no time. Not on steamboats, nor nowheres. Don't member any songs, except maybe the holler we useto set up when dey wuz late wid de dinner when we wuked on de steamboat;--Dey sing-song lak dis:"

'Ol hen, she flew
Ovah de ga-rden gate,
Fo' she wuz dat hungrey
She jes' couldn't wait.'

--but den dat ain't no real song."

"Kentucky river is place to fish--big cat fish. Cat fish an greens is good eatin. Ah seen a cat fish cum outa de Kentucky river 'lon as a man is tall; an them ol' fins slap mah laig when ah carries him ovah mah shoulder, an he tail draggin' on mah feet.--Sho nuf!"

"No'em, ah jes cain't tell you all no cryin sad story 'bout beatin' an a slave drivin, an ah don' know no ghost stories, ner nuthin'--ah is jes dumb dat way--ah's sorry 'bout it, but ah Jes--is."

Samuel Sutton lives in north lane Lebanon, just back of the French Creamery. He has one acre of land, a little unpainted, poorly furnished and poorly kept. His daughter is a huge fleshy colored woman wears a turban on her head. She has a fixed smile; says not a word. Samuel talks easily; answers questions directly; is quick in his movements. He is stooped and may 5'7" or 8" if standing straight. He wears an old fashioned "Walrus" mustache, and has a grey wooley fringe of hair about his smooth chocolate colored bald head. He is very dark in color, but his son is darker yet. His hearing is good. His sight very poor. Being so young when the Civil War was over, he remembers little or nothing about what the colored people thought or expected from freedom. He just remembers what a big time there was on that first "Free Fourth of July."

Ruth Thompson, Interviewing Graff, Editing

Ex-Slave Interviews Hamilton Co., District 12 Cincinnati

RICHARD TOLER 515 Poplar St., Cincinnati, O.

"Ah never fit in de wah; no suh, ah couldn't. Mah belly's been broke! But ah sho' did want to, and ah went up to be examined, but they didn't receive me on account of mah broken stomach. But ah sho' tried, 'cause ah wanted to be free. Ah didn't like to be no slave. Dat wasn't good times."

Richard Toler, 515 Poplar Street, century old former slave lifted a bony knee with one gnarled hand and crossed his legs, then smoothed his thick white beard. His rocking chair creaked, the flies droned, and through the open, unscreened door came the bawling of a calf from the building of a hide company across the street. A maltese kitten sauntered into the front room, which served as parlor and bedroom, and climbed complacently into his lap. In one corner a wooden bed was piled high with feather ticks, and bedecked with a crazy quilt and an number of small, brightly-colored pillows; a bureau opposite was laden to the edges with a collection of odds and ends--a one-legged alarm clock, a coal oil lamp, faded aritifical flowers in a gaudy vase, a pile of newspapers. A trunk against the wall was littered with several large books (one of which was the family Bible), a stack of dusty lamp shades, a dingy sweater, and several bushel-basket lids. Several packing cases and crates, a lard can full of cracked ice, a small, round oil heating stove, and an assorted lot of chairs completed the furnishings. The one decorative spot in the room was on the wall over the bed, where hung a large framed picture of Christ in The Temple. The two rooms beyond exhibited various broken-down additions to the heterogeneous collection.

"Ah never had no good times till ah was free", the old man continued. "Ah was bo'n on Mastah Tolah's (Henry Toler) plantation down in ole V'ginia, near Lynchburg in Campbell County. Mah pappy was a slave befo' me, and mah mammy, too. His name was Gawge Washin'ton Tolah, and her'n was Lucy Tolah. We took ouah name from ouah ownah, and we lived in a cabin way back of the big house, me and mah pappy and mammy and two brothahs.

"They nevah mistreated me, neithah. They's a whipping the slaves all the time, but ah run away all the time. And ah jus' tell them--if they whipped me, ah'd kill 'em, and ah nevah did get a whippin'. If ah thought one was comin' to me, Ah'd hide in the woods; then they'd send aftah me, and they say, 'Come, on back--we won't whip you'. But they killed some of the niggahs, whipped 'em to death. Ah guess they killed three or fo' on Tolah's place while ah was there.

"Ah nevah went to school. Learned to read and write mah name after ah was free in night school, but they nevah allowed us to have a book in ouah hand, and we couldn't have no money neither. If we had money we had to tu'n it ovah to ouah ownah. Chu'ch was not allowed in ouah pa't neithah. Ah go to the Meth'dist Chu'ch now, everybody ought to go. I think RELIGION MUST BE FINE, 'CAUSE GOD ALMIGHTY'S AT THE HEAD OF IT."

Toler took a small piece of ice from the lard can, popped it between his toothless gum, smacking enjoyment, swished at the swarming flies with a soiled rag handkerchief, and continued.

"Ah nevah could unnerstand about ghos'es. Nevah did see one. Lots of folks tell about seein' ghos'es, but ah nevah feared 'em. Ah was nevah raised up undah such supastitious believin's.

"We was nevah allowed no pa'ties, and when they had goin' ons at the big house, we had to clear out. Ah had to wo'k hard all the time every day in the week. Had to min' the cows and calves, and when ah got older ah had to hoe in the field. Mastah Tolah had about 500 acres, so they tell me, and he had a lot of cows and ho'ses and oxens, and he was a big fa'mer. Ah've done about evahthing in mah life, blacksmith and stone mason, ca'penter, evahthing but brick-layin'. Ah was a blacksmith heah fo' 36 yea's. Learned it down at Tolah's.

"Ah stayed on the plantation during the wah, and jes' did what they tol' me. Ah was 21 then. And ah walked 50 mile to vote for Gen'l Grant at Vaughn's precinct. Ah voted fo' him in two sessions, he run twice. And ah was 21 the fust time, cause they come and got me, and say, 'Come on now. You can vote now, you is 21.' And theah now--mah age is right theah. 'Bout as close as you can get it.

"Ah was close to the battle front, and I seen all dem famous men. Seen Gen'l Lee, and Grant, and Abe Lincoln. Seen John Brown, and seen the seven men that was hung with him, but we wasn't allowed to talk to any of 'em, jes' looked on in the crowd. Jes' spoke, and say 'How d' do.'

[HW: Harper's Ferry is not [TR: rest illegible]]

"But ah did talk to Lincoln, and ah tol' him ah wanted to be free, and he was a fine man, 'cause he made us all free. And ah got a ole histry, it's the Sanford American History, and was published in _17_84[HW:18?]. But ah don't know where it is now, ah misplaced it. It is printed in the book, something ah said, not written by hand. And it says, 'Ah am a ole slave which has suvved fo' 21 yeahs, and ah would be quite pleased if you could help us to be free. We thank you very much. Ah trust that some day ah can do you the same privilege that you are doing for me. Ah have been a slave for many years.' (Note discrepancy).

"Aftah the wah, ah came to Cincinnati, and ah was married three times. Mah fust wife was Nannie. Then there was Mollie. They both died, and than ah was married Cora heah, and ah had six child'en, one girl and fo' boys. (Note discrepancy) They's two living yet; James is 70 and he is not married. And Bob's about thutty or fo'ty. Ah done lost al mah rememb'ance, too ole now. But Mollie died when he was bo'n, and he is crazy. He is out of Longview (Home for Mentally Infirm) now fo' a while, and he jes' wanders around, and wo'ks a little. He's not [TR: "not" is crossed out] ha'mless, he wouldn't hurt nobody. He ain't married neithah.

"After the wah, ah bought a fiddle, and ah was a good fiddlah. Used to be a fiddlah fo' the white girls to dance. Jes' picked it up, it was a natural gif'. Ah could still play if ah had a fiddle. Ah used to play at our hoe downs, too. Played all those ole time songs--_Soldier's Joy_, _Jimmy Long Josey_, _Arkansas Traveler_, and _Black Eye Susie_. Ah remembah the wo'ds to that one."

Smiling inwardly with pleasure as he again lived the past, the old Negro swayed and recited:

Black Eye Susie, you look so fine,
Black Eye Susie, ah think youah mine.
A wondahful time we're having now,
Oh, Black Eye Susie, ah believe that youah mine.

And away down we stomp aroun' the bush,
We'd think that we'd get back to wheah we could push
Black Eye Susie, ah think youah fine,
Black Eye Susie, Ah know youah mine.

Then, he resumed his conversational tone:

"Befo' the wah we nevah had no good times. They took good care of us, though. As pa'taculah with slaves as with the stock--that was their money, you know. And if we claimed a bein' sick, they'd give us a dose of castah oil and tu'pentine. That was the principal medicine cullud folks had to take, and sometimes salts. But nevah no whiskey--that was not allowed. And if we was real sick, they had the Doctah fo' us.

"We had very bad eatin'. Bread, meat, water. And they fed it to us in a trough, jes' like the hogs. And ah went in may shirt tail till I was 16, nevah had no clothes. And the flo' in ouah cabin was dirt, and at night we'd jes' take a blanket and lay down on the flo'. The dog was supe'ior to us; they would take him in the house.

"Some of the people I belonged to was in the Klu Klux Klan. Tolah had fo' girls and fo' boys. Some of those boys belonged. And I used to see them turn out. They went aroun' whippin' niggahs. They'd get young girls and strip 'em sta'k naked, and put 'em across barrels, and whip 'em till the blood run out of 'em, and then they would put salt in the raw pahts. And ah seen it, and it was as bloody aroun' em as if they'd stuck hogs.

"I sho' is glad I ain't no slave no moah. Ah thank God that ah lived to pas the yeahs until the day of 1937. Ah'm happy and satisfied now, and ah hopes ah see a million yeahs to come."

Forest H. Lees C.R. McLean, Supervisor June 10, 1937

Topic: Folkways Medina County, District #5

JULIA WILLIAMS, ex-slave

Julia Williams, born in Winepark, Chesterfield County near Richmond, Virginia. Her age is estimated close to 100 years. A little more or a little less, it is not known for sure.

Her memory is becoming faded. She could remember her mothers name was Katharine but her father died when she was very small and she remembers not his name.

Julia had three sisters, Charlotte, Rose and Emoline Mack. The last names of the first two, Charlotte and Rose she could not recall.

As her memory is becoming faded, her thoughts wander from one thing to another and her speech is not very plain, the following is what I heard and understood during the interview.

"All de slaves work with neighbors; or like neighbors now-adays. I no work in de fiel, I slave in de house, maid to de mistress."

"After Yankees come, one sister came to Ohio with me."

"The slaves get a whippin if they run away."

"After Yankees come, my ole mother come home and all chillun together. I live with gramma and go home after work each day. Hired out doin maid work. All dis after Yankees come dat I live with gramma."

"Someone yell, 'Yankees are comin',' and de mistress tell me, she say 'You mus learn to be good and hones'.' I tole her, 'I am now'."

"No I nevah get no money foh work."

"I allways had good meals and was well taken care of. De Mrs. she nevah let me be sold."

"Sho we had a cook in de kichen and she was a slave too."

"Plantashun slaves had gahdens but not de house slaves. I allus had da bes clothes and bes meals, anyting I want to eat. De Mrs. like me and she like me and she say effen you want sompin ask foh it, anytime you want sompin or haff to have, get it. I didn suffer for enythin befoh dim Yankees come."

"After de Yankees come even de house people, de white people didn get shoes. But I hab some, I save. I have some othah shoes I didn dare go in de house with. Da had wood soles. Oh Lawde how da hurt mah feet. One day I come down stair too fas and slip an fall. Right den I tile de Mrs. I couldn wear dem big heavy shoes and besides da makes mah feet so sore."

"Bof de Mrs. and de Master sickly. An their chillun died. Da live in a big manshun house. Sho we had an overseer on de plantashun. De poor white people da live purty good, all dat I seed. It was a big plantashun. I can't remember how big but I know dat it was sho big. Da had lots an lots of slaves but I doan no zackly how many. Da scattered around de plantashun in diffren settlements. De horn blew every mohnin to wake up de fiel hans. Da gone to fiel long time foh I get up. De fiel hans work from dawn till dark, but evabody had good eats on holidays. No work jus eat and have good time."

"Da whipp dem slaves what run away."

"One day after de war was over and I come to Ohio, a man stop at mah house. I seem him and I know him too but I preten like I didn, so I say, 'I doan want ter buy nothin today' and he says 'Doan you know me?' Den I laugh an say sho I remember the day you wuz goin to whip me, you run affer me and I run to de Mrs. and she wouldn let you whip me. Now you bettah be careful or I get you."

"Sho I saw slaves sole. Da come from all ovah to buy an sell de slaves, chillun to ole men and women."

"De slaves walk and travel with carts and mules."

"De slaves on aukshun block dey went to highes bidder. One colored woman, all de men want her. She sold to de master who was de highes bidder, and den I saw her comin down de road singin 'I done got a home at las!'. She was half crazy. De maste he sole her and den Mrs. buy her back. They lef her work around de house. I used to make her work and make her shine things. She say I make her shine too much, but she haff crazy, an run away."

"No dey didn help colored folks read and write. Effn dey saw you wif a book dey knock it down on de floor. Dey wouldn let dem learn."

"De aukshun allus held at Richmond. Plantashun owners come from all states to buy slaves and sell them."

"We had church an had to be dere every single Sunday. We read de Bible. De preacher did the readin. I can't read or write. We sho had good prayer meetins. Show nuf it was a Baptis church. I like any spiritual, all of dem."

"Dey batize all de young men and women, colored folks. Dey sing mos any spirtual, none in paticlar. A bell toll foh a funeral. At de baptizen do de pracher leads dem into de rivah, way in, den each one he stick dem clear under. I waz gonna be batize and couldn. Eva time sompin happin an I couldn. My ole mothah tole me I gotta be but I never did be baptize when Ise young in de south. De othah people befoh me all batized."

"A lot of de slaves come north. Dey run away cause dey didn want to be slaves, like I didn like what you do and I get mad, den you get mad an I run away."

"De pattyroller was a man who watched foh de slaves what try to run away. I see dem sneakin in an out dem bushes. When dey fine im de give im a good whippin."

"I nevah seed mush trouble between de whites and blacks when I live dare. Effen dey didn want you to get married, they wouldn let you. Dey had to ask de mastah and if he say no he mean it."

"When de Yankees were a comin through dem fiels, dey sho was awful. Dey take everythin and destroy what ever they could not take. De othah house slave bury the valables in de groun so de soldiers couldn fine em."

"One of the house slaves was allus havin her man comin to see her, so one day affer he lef, when I was makin fun and laughin at her de mistress she say, 'Why you picken on her?' I say, dat man comin here all the time hangin round, why doan he marry her."

"I was nevah lowed to go out an soshiate with de othah slaves much. I was in de house all time."

"I went to prayer meetins every Sunday monin and evenin."

"Sometimes dey could have a good time in de evenin and sometimes day couldn."

"Chrismas was a big time for everyone. In the manshun we allus had roast pig and a big feed. I could have anythin I want. New Years was the big aukshun day. All day hollerin on de block. Dey come from all ovah to Richmond to buy and sell de slaves."

"Butchern day sho was a big time. A big long table with de pigs laid out ready to be cut up."

"Lots of big parties an dances in de manshun. I nevah have time foh play. Mrs, she keep me busy and I work when I jus little girl and all mah life."

"Effen any slaves were sick dey come to de house for splies and medsin. De Mrs. and Master had de doctor if things were very bad."

"I'll nevah forget de soldiers comin. An old woman tole me de war done broke up, and I was settin on de porch. De Mrs. she say, 'Julia you ant stayin eneymore'. She tole me if I keep my money and save it she would give me some. An she done gave me a gold breast pin too. She was rich and had lots of money. After the war I wen home to my mother. She was half sick and she work too hard. On de way I met one slave woman who didn know she was even free."

"The Yankees were bad!"

"I didn get married right away. I worked out foh diffren famlies."

"After de war dare was good schools in de south. De free slaves had land effen dey knowed what to do with. I got married in the south to Richar Williams but I didn have no big weddin. I had an old preacher what knowed all bout de Bible, who married me. He was a good preacher. I was de mothah of eight chillun."

"Lincoln? Well I tell you I doan know. I didn have no thought about him but I seed him. I work in de house all de time and didn hear much about people outside."

"I doan believe in ghosts or hants. As foh dancin I enjoy it when I was young."

"I cant read and I thought to myself I thought there was a change comin. I sense that. I think de Lawd he does everythin right. De Lawd open my way. I think all people should be religious and know about de Lawd and his ways."

Her husband came to Wadsworth with the first group that came from Doylestown. The men came first then they sent for their families. Her husband came first them sent for her and the children. They settled in Wadsworth and built small shacks then later as times got better they bought properties.

This year is the 57th Anniversary of the Wadsworth Colored Baptist Church of which Julia Williams was a charter member. She is very close to 100 years old if not that now and lives at 160 Kyle Street, Wadsworth, Ohio.

Lees Ohio Guide, Special Ex-Slave Stories August 17, 1937

JULIA WILLIAMS (Supplementary Story)

"After de War deh had to pick their own livin' an seek homes.

"Shuah, deh expected de 40 acres of lan' an mules, but deh had to work foh dem."

"Shuah, deh got paht of de lan but de shuah had to work foh it.

"After de war deh had no place to stay an den deh went to so many diffrunt places. Some of dem today don't have settled places to live.

"Those owners who were good gave their slaves lan but de othahs jus turned de slaves loose to wander roun'. Othahs try to fine out where dere people were and went to them.

"One day I seed a man who was a doctor down dere, an' I says, 'You doktah now?' An says 'No, I doan doktah no mow.' I work foh him once when I was slave, few days durin de war. I say, 'Member that day you gonna lick me but you didn', you know I big woman an fight back. Now de war ovah and you can't do dat now'.

"Slaves didn get money unless deh work for it. Maybe a slave he would work long time before he get eny pay."

"Lak you hire me an you say you goin to pay me an then you don't. Lots of them hired slaves aftah de war and worked dem a long time sayin deh gwine pay and then when he ask for money, deh drive him away instead of payin him.

"Yes, some of de slaves were force to stay on de plantation. I see how some had to live." "They had homes for awhile but when deh wasen't able to pay dere rent cause deh weren't paid, deh were thrown out of dere houses." Some of dem didn't know when deh were free till long time after de Wah.

"When I were free, one mornin I seed the mistress and she ask me would I stay with her a couple years. I say, 'No I gonna find mah people an go dere.'

"Anyway, she had a young mister, a son, an he was mean to de slaves. I nebber lak him.

"Once I was sent to mah missys' brother for a time but I wouldn' stay dere: he too rough.

"No, deh didn't want you to learn out of books. My missy say one day when I was free, 'Now you can get your lessons.'

"I allus lowed to do what I wanted, take what I wanted, and eat what I wanted. Deh had lots of money but what good did it do them? Deh allus was sick.

"De poor soldiers had lots to go thru, even after de wah. Deh starvin and beggin and sick.

"De slaves had more meetins and gatherins aftah de war.

"On de plantation where I work dey had a great big horn blow every mornin to get de slaves up to de field, I allus get up soon after it blew, most allways, but this mornin dey blew de horn a long time an I says, 'what foh dey blow dat horn so long?' an den de mastah say, 'You all is free'. Den he says, ter me, 'What you all goin to do now', and I says, 'I'm goin to fine my mother.'

"One day a soldier stop me an says, 'Sister, where do you live?' I tole him, den he says, 'I'm hungry.' So I went an got him sompin to eat.

"One time I was to be sold de next day, but de missy tole the man who cried the block not to sell me, but deh sold my mother and I didn't see her after dat till just befoh de war ovah.

"All dat de slaves got after de war was loaned dem and dey had to work mighty hard to pay for dem. I saw a lot of poor people cut off from votin and dey off right now, I guess. I doan like it dat de woman vote. A woman ain't got no right votin, nowhow.

"Most of de slaves get pensions and are taken care of by their chillun."

"Ah doan know about de generation today, just suit yourself bout dat."

Julia Williams resides at 150 Kyle St., Wadsworth, Ohio.

Miriam Logan Lebanon, Ohio July 8th

Warren County, District 2

Story of REVEREND WILLIAMS, Aged 76, Colored Methodist Minister, Born Greenbriar County, West Virginia (Born 1859)

"I was born on the estate of Miss Frances Cree, my mother's mistress. She had set my grandmother Delilah free with her sixteen children, so my mother was free when I was born, but my father was not.

"My father was butler to General Davis, nephew of Jefferson Davis. General Davis was wounded in the Civil War and came home to die. My father, Allen Williams was not free until the Emancipation."

"Grandmother Delilah belonged to Dr. Cree. Upon his death and the division of his estate, his maiden daughter came into possession of my grandmother, you understand. Miss Frances nor her brother Mr. Cam. ever married. Miss Frances was very religious, a Methodist, and she believed Grandmother Delilah should be free, and that we colored children should have schooling."

"Yes ma'm, we colored people had a church down there in West Virginia, and grandmother Delilah had a family Bible of her own. She had fourteen boys and two girls. My mother had sixteen children, two boys, fourteen girls. Of them--mother's children, you understand,--there were seven teachers and two ministers; all were educated--thanks to Miss Frances and to Miss Sands of Gallipolice. Mother lived to be ninety-seven years old. No, she was not a cook."

"In the south, you understand--there is the COLORED M.E. CHURCH, and the AFRICAN M.E. CHURCH, and the SOUTHERN METHODIST, and METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCHES of the white people. They say there will be UNION METHODIST of both white and colored people, but I don't believe there will be, for there is a great difference in beliefs, even today. SOUTHERN METHODIST do believe, do believe in slavery; while the Methodist to which Miss Frances Cree belonged did not believe in slavery. The Davis family, (one of the finest) did believe in slavery and they were good southern Methodist. Mr. Cam., Miss Frances brother was not so opposed to slavery as was Miss Frances. Miss Frances willed us to the care of her good Methodist friend Miss Eliza Sands of Ohio."

"Culture loosens predijuce. I do not believe in social equality at all myself; it cannot be; but we all must learn to keep to our own road, and bear Christian good will towards each other."

"I do not know of any colored people who are any more superstitious than are white people. They have the advantages of education now equally and are about on the same level. Of course illiterate whites and the illiterate colored man are apt to believe in charms. I do not remember of hearing of any particular superstitious among my church people that I could tell you about, no ma'm, I do not."

"In church music I hold that the good old hymns of John and of Charles Wesley are the best to be had. I don' like shouting 'Spirituals' show-off and carrying on--never did encourage it! Inward Grace will come out in your singing more than anything else you do, and the impression we carry away from your song and, from the singer are what I count." Read well, sing correctly, but first, last, remember real inward Grace is what shows forth the most in a song."

"In New Oreleans where I went to school,--(graduated in 1887 from the Freedman's Aid College)--there were 14 or 15 colored churches (methodist) in my youth. New Oreleans is one third colored in population, you understand. Some places in the south the colored outnumber the whites 30 to 1.

"I pastored St. Paul's church in Louieville, a church of close to 3,000 members. No'ma'm can't say just how old a church it is."

"To live a consecrated life, you'd better leave off dancing, drinking smoking and the movies. I've never been to a movie in my life. When I hear some of the programs colored folks put on the radio sometimes I feel just like going out to the woodshed and getting my axe and chopping up the radio, I do! It's natural and graceful to dance, but it is not natural or good to mill around in a low-minded smoky dance hall."

"I don't hold it right to put anybody out of church, no ma'm. No matter what they do, I don't believe in putting anybody out of church."

"My mother and her children were sent to Miss Eliza Sands at Gallipolis, Ohio after Miss Frances Cree's death, at Miss Frances' request. Father did not go, no ma'm. He came later and finished his days with us."

"We went first to Point Pleasant, then up the river to Gallipolis."

"After we got there we went to school. A man got me a place in Cincinnati when I was twelve years old. I blacked boots and ran errands of the hotel office until I was thirteen; then I went to the FREEDMAN'S AID COLLEGE in N' Orleans; remained until I graduated. Shoemaking and carpentering were given to me for trades, but as young fellow I shipped on a freighter plying between New Orleans and Liverpool, thinking I would like to be a seaman. I was a mean tempered boy. As cook's helper one day, I got mad at the boatswain,--threw a pan of hot grease on him."

The crew wanted me put into irons, but the captain said 'no,--leave him in Liverpool soon as we land--in about a day or two. When I landed there they left me to be deported back to the States according to law."

"Yes, I had an aunt live to be 112 years old. She died at Granville (Ohio) some thirty years ago. We know her age from a paper on Dr. Cree's estate where she was listed as a child of twelve, and that had been one hundred years before."

"About the music now,--you see I'm used to thinking of religion as the working out of life in good deeds, not just a singing-show-off kind."

Some of the Spirituals are fine, but still I think Wesley hymns are best. I tell my folks that the good Lord isn't a deaf old gentleman that has to be shouted up to, or amused. I do think we colored people are a little too apt to want to show off in our singing sometimes."

"I was very small when we went away from Greenbriar County to Point Pleasant, and from there to Gallipolis by wagon. I do remember Mr. Cam. Cree. I was taring around the front lawn where he didn't want me; he was cross. I remember somebody taking me around the house, and thats all,-all that I can remember of the old Virginia home where my folks had belonged for several generations."

"I've pastored large churches in Louisville and St. Louis. In Ohio I have been at Glendale, and at Oxford,--other places. This old place was for sale on the court house steps one day when I happened to be in Lebanon. Five acres, yes ma'm. There's the corner stone with 1822--age of the house. My sight is poor, can't read, so I do not try to preach much anymore, but I help in church in any way that I am needed, keep busy and happy always! I am able to garden and enjoy life every day. Certainly my life has been a fortunate one in my mother's belonging to Miss Frances Cree. I have been a minister some forty years. I graduated from Wilberforce College."

This colored minister has a five acre plot of ground and an old brick house located at the corporation line of the village of Lebanon. He is a medium sized man. Talks very fast. A writer could turn in about 40 pages on an interview with him, but he is very much in earnest about his beliefs. He seems to be rather nervous and has very poor sight. His wife is yellow in color, and has a decidedly oriental cast of face. She is as silent, as he is talkative, and from general appearances of her home she is a very neat housekeeper. Neither of them speak in dialect at all. Wade Glenn does not speak in dialect, although he is from North Carolina.

Ex-Slaves Stark County, District 5 Aug 13, 1937

WILLIAM WILLIAMS, Ex-Slave

Interview with William Williams, 1227 Rex Ave. S.E. Canton, O.