Chapter IV: Part 4

"Well as I remember, Mr. Bill Ray was in de mustering of de 18th Regiment. Billy, Robert, Sara and Miss Nancy was Mr. Alex's chilluns. Understand me, don't think dat Bob and Sam was in de Regiment ... satisfied Billy was, kaise he used to pass our house on horse back, coming from de Laurens side where he lived.

"Sixteen-year-old boys come in de same time dat I did. Course I ain't told all dat I knows, kaise dat wouldn't be proper. All I tell you, I wants it to be recognized. De better it's done, de better it'll help you.

"I goes from home and stays five days or more, and don't nothing happen to a thing at my home. I does fer de sick and de Lawd blesses me. He looks atter my things while I am away. He soon shows his presence atter I gits dar. He calls fer me and I feeds Him.

"Once had 26 biles (boils). Dat make me consider my disobedience against de Lawd. Den I went to Him in prayer. He told me Satan done got ahead of Him. Dat show me dat I done forgot to be particular. I got mo' 'ticular and pray mo' often, and in six weeks my biles had done all gone.

"Dar is times when I gits lost fer not knowing. I can't keep up, kaise I cannot read. Man in Sunday school reads and I hears. He read de olden Testament; den he read de new Testament. Dat my schooling. I 'clar unto you, I got by all my life by praying and thinking. I sho does think a lot. ('Uncle' George's facial and scalp muscles work so when he thinks, that his straw hat moves up and down.)

"When good man prays fer bad man, de Holy Ghost works on bad man's consciousness, and afo' he knows it, he's a-saying 'Lawd have Mercy' 'stead of 'G'dam', like all wicked folks says every day. He--dat de Holy Ghost dat I still is speaking of--jest penetrates de wicked man's consciousness widout him a-knowing it. Dat penetrating make de bad man say, 'Lawd have Mercy.' I hoes and I cuts sprouts, and den I plows. When you plows, mules is allus so aggravating dat dey gits you all ruffled up. Dat de devil a-working at you. Dat's all old mules is anyhow. I does not cuss, nohow, kaise it sho am wicked and I is had de Holy Spirit in my soul, now gone sixty-five years, since I jined Padgett Creek Church. When my old mule gits to de row's end, and he act mulish--kaise dat's in him and he don't know nothing else to do--I means to say either 'ha' or 'gee', and often since I jined Padgett Creek Church I finds myself saying 'Lawd have Mercy' 'stead of 'gee' or 'ha'. So you see dat de Lawd has command, whar-so-ever if I was wicked, Satan would.

"A child fo God allus will agree wid de Word of God. We mens dat claim to be leaders in de Kingdom, got to step up and sho folks what dey must do. Man learns right smart from Exodus 'bout how to lead. A male child was born to rule de world. Moses still de strongest impression dat we has as rulers. God gits Hisself into de heads of men dat he wants to rule and He don't tell nobody else nothing 'bout it neither.

"Mr. Roosevelt de president and he sho looks atter de po' folks. He ain't no ig'nant man neither, kaise he got de light. Folks ain't a-gwine to drown him out neither wid dere wicked words 'gainst him, kaise he strive in de Lawd's name to do His will. Mr. Roosevelt got learning like I is from de throne of God. He may have education also, but if he is, he sho knows how to keep dem both jined together. Folks reads to me how he got crippled and how he washed in dem springs in Georgia, and dat keep him a-gwine right on anyhow. It ain't dem springs by deself, but it's God a dipping his hand down dar fer de President to git well. Oh yes, suh, I knows dat he twan't de president when he was a-washing, but dem de plans dat de Lawd had done already planned and you and me never know'd nothing 'bout all dat. You and me does not know what is planned up in sto' fer us in de future neither.

"I is a Baptist, and at Padgett's Creek we does not believe in no back-sliding. 'Once in de Spirit, allus in de Spirit'. A child of your'n is allus a child of your'n. Dat de way de Baptist teach--once a child of God, allus God's child. T'ain't no sech thing as drapping back. If you draps back, you ain't never been no child of de Lawd, and you never had no business being baptized. Christ was baptized in de waters of Jordan, won't (weren't) He? Well, He never drapped back, did He? He say we must follow in His footsteps, didn't He? Well, dar you is, and dat's all dar is to it.

"God gits in de heads of men to help de aged and de po' also. I never axes fer nothing, but when I sets around de courthouse and informs men as I been doing dis evening, de Lawd has dem to drap a nickle or a dime or a quarter in my hand but He never gits dem to a half of a dollar."

Source: George Briggs, (88) Rt. 2, Union, S. C.
Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. (7/12/37)

Project 1885-1
FOLKLORE
Spartanburg Dist. 4
July 12, 1937
Edited by:
Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"What-so-ever I can find! I traveling dat way over 73 years. If he ax de Lawd and have faith, he ken do; and iffen he don't have no faith, by den he can't. When a man comes along dat wants his own way, and he won't pay no attention to de Lawd, by den de Lawd don't pay him no mind; and so dat man jest keeps a-gwine on wid his way and he don't never reach de Cross. Jesus say, 'deny yourself, pick up de Cross and follow Me.'

"I see a man in de courthouse dis morning, and he was like Nicodemus. Why dat man want to be resto'd back like he was when he was jest 21 years old. I seed him setting down dar in Mr. Perrin's office, and I knowed his troubles when he 'low dat he done been to every doctor in town. De trouble was, he never had no faith in de doctors and nobody else. How could he have faith in Jesus when he never had none in nothing else? Brother, you has to have faith in your fellowman befo' you has faith in de Lawd. I don't know how come, but dat's de way it is. My plan is working by faith. Jesus say, 'Work widout faith ain't nothing; but work wid faith'll move mountains'.

"Dat man told me he gwine give me a hundred dollars if I rid him of misery. Dat show he never know nothing 'bout faith.

"If Mr. Emslie Nicholson ax me to rid him of a misery, I couldn't take no money from him, and he de richest man in all Union County. Mr. Nicholson would know better dan to offer me money, kaise he has faith. You know he's a good 'Presmuterian' (Presbyterian).

"Dey looks at de back of my head, and de hair on it ain't rubbed against no college and fer dat reason dese young negroes don't want me to preach. Dey wants to hear dat man preach dat can read. Man dat can read can't understand less'n some divine man guide him. I speak as my Teacher gives it to me, dat's de Lawd. In so doing, I testify de word dat no man can condemn. Dat is my plan of Salvation: to work by faith widout price or purse, as de Lawd, my Teacher has taught me.

"Dar was no church on our plantation when I was a boy. All de Baptists went to Padgett's Creek, and all de Methodist went to Quaker Church and Belmont. Padgett's Creek had a section in de back of de church fer de slaves to sit. Quaker Church and Belmont both had slaves' galleries. Dar is a big book at Padgetts wid three pages of slaves' names that was members. Mr. Claude Sparks read it to me last year. All de darky members dead, but one, dat's me.

"Nobody never read de Bible to me when I was little. It jest a gift of God dat teached to me through de Holy Ghost. It's de Spirit of de One in Three dat gits into you, and dat's de Holy Ghost or de Holy Spirit dat gives me my enlightment.

"If I can git to de do' of Padgett's Creek Church, I can jest feel de Power of God. ('Uncle' George pats his foot and softly cries at this point, and his face takes on a calm and peaceful expression.)

"If you eats befo' you gits hongry, you never will feast on dead air. I makes it a practice to feed my soul and body befo' dey gits hongry. Even I does eat by myself, dis old man take off his hat and ax de Lawd to bless his soul and body in nourishment fer de future.

"I ain't never seed Mr. Lincoln, but from what I learn't dey said dat God had placed in him de revelation to give de plan dat he had fer every man. Dat plan fer every man to worship under his own vine and fig tree. From dat, we should of liked Mr. Lincoln.

"Dis here 'Dick Look-Up'. No sir, I don't know him, kaise I caught his name since I come on dis side of de river. Mr. Perrin knows him, and I heard him say dat every time anybody ax him how old he is, he add on ten years. Dat's how come dey got in de paper he a hundred and twenty-five years old. Now me and Mr. Perrin doesn't speak unless we is obleeged to know dat what we is gwine to say is de truth. Us is careful, kaise us knows dat de Lawd am looking down from his throne, and dat He is checking every word dat we says. Some folks does not recall dat fact when dey speaks, or dey would be careful.

"I'll say it slow so dat you can catch it; I start in time of de Confederate War. Wid dirt dug up out of de smokehouse, water was run through it so us could get salt fer bread. Hickory wood ashes was used fer soda. If we didn't have no hickory wood, we burnt red corn cobs; and de ashes from dem was used fer cooking soda.

"Molasses was made from watermelons in time of de war. Dey was also made from May-apples or may-pops as some call dem, and sometimes dey was made from persimmons and from wheat brand. In Confederate days, Irish potato tops was cooked fer vegetables. Blackberry leaves was ocassionally used fer greens or fer seasoning lambs quarters.

"Dis way watermelon was done: Soak watermelon twenty and four hours to de'self; strain off all juice and put on fire to bile. When dey thickens dey bees good. Yes sir, good, good.

"Wid may-pops: peel de outside green off, den bust 'em open and mash up together; strain juice off and cook thick.

"'Simmons and wheat bran are mashed up together and baked in water. Let set twenty and four hours and cook down to molasses. Dat winds up dat part of it.

"Git plums and blackberries and de like of dat and make up in Jelly, or can fer scarce times, dat's de way we done den and folks does dat yet. Dese is some of de particularest things of de Confederate times dat I come back from Sedalia to give you, dat's right. (This old negro, who had already been interviewed by the writer, came a long way and looked-up the author to tell him some incidents which he had forgotten to tell in the first interview.) Some customs is done went by now, but dey was practiced in Sedalia, and as to whar dem was done fer off as Spartanburg, I cannot say.

"In Confederate time, all wimmens stayed close home and carded and spun all de day long. Dey wove all dere own clothes. Men at home, old men, made leather shoes and shoe strings and belts and galloses.

"Our darkies tried hard to be obedient to our master so dat we might obtain (keep) our pleasant home. Obedience makes it better dan sacrifice. I restes my mind dar."

Source: George Briggs (88), Rt. 2, Union, S. C.
Interviewed by: Caldwell Sims, Union, S. C. (7/7/37)

Code No.
Project, 1885-(1)
Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis
Place, Marion, S. C.
Date, January 27, 1938
No. Words ----
Reduced from ---- words
Rewritten by ----

JOSEPHINE BRISTOW
Ex-Slave, 73 Years

"Remembers de Confederate War, Miss. Yes, mam, I'm supposed to be, if I can live to see February, bout 73 year old. What age Hester say she was? Dat what I had thought from me en her conversation. Miss, I don' remember a thing more bout de war den de soldiers comin through old Massa's plantation en we chillun was 'fraid of dem en ran. Knew dey was dressed in a different direction from us white folks. All was in blue, you know, wid dem curious lookin hats en dem brass buttons on dey bodies. No, mam, dey didn' stop nowhe' bout us. Dey was ridin on horses en it seem like dey was in a hurry gwine somewhe'. En dey didn' stop to old Massa's house neither. No, mam, not to my knowin, dey didn'. Well, we was livin out to de plantation, we calls it, en Massa en Missus was livin up here to Marion. Mr. Ferdinand Gibson, dat who been us Massa in slavery time en Miss Connie, dat what we used to call her, was us Missus. To my knowin, dey didn' have no chillun dey own, but dey sho had plenty colored people. Yes, mam, seems like to my remembrance, my Massa ran bout 30 plantations en 'sides dat, he had a lot of servants right up here to de big house, men en women."

"I was real small in dem days en far as I can remember, we lived on de quarter dere to old Massa's plantation in de country. Us little tots would go every mornin to a place up on de hill, called de milk house, en get our milk 'tween meals while de old folks was off workin. Oh, dey had a old woman to see after we chillun en tend to us in de daytime. De old lady dat looked after us, her name was Mary Novlin. Lord, Mr. Gibson, he had big farms en my mother en father, dey worked on de farms. Yes'um, my mother en father, I used to never wouldn' know when dey come home in de evenin, it would be so late. De old lady, she looked after every blessed thing for us all day long en cooked for us right along wid de mindin. Well, she would boil us corn meal hominy en give us dat mostly wid milk for breakfast. Den dey would have a big garden en she would boil peas en give us a lot of soup like dat wid dis here oven bread. Oh, dem what worked in de field, dey would catch dey meals when dey could. Would have to cook way in de night or sometimes fore day. Cose dey would take dey dinner rations wid dem to de field. More or less, dey would cook it in de field. Yes'um, dey would carry dey pots wid dem en cook right dere in de field whe' dey was workin. Would boil pots en make bread, too. I don' know how long dey had to work, mam, but I hear dem say dat dey worked hard, cold or hot, rain or shine. Had to hoe cotton en pick cotton en all such as dat. I don' know, mam, but de white folks, I guess dey took it dat dey had plenty colored people en de Lord never meant for dem to do no work. You know, white folks in dem days, dey made de colored people do."

"De people used to spin en weave, my Lord! Like today, it cloudy en rainy, dey couldn' work in de field en would have to spin dat day. Man, you would hear dat thing windin en I remember, I would stand dere en want to spin so bad, I never know what to do. Won' long fore I got to whe' I could use de shuttle en weave, too. I bad a grandmother en when she would get to dat wheel, she sho know what she been doin. White folks used to give de colored people task to spin en I mean she could do dat spinnin. Yes'um, I here to tell you, dey would make de prettiest cloth in dat day en time. Old time people used to have a kind of dye dey called indigo en dey would color de cloth just as pretty as you ever did see."

"Den I recollects dat dey would have to shuck corn some of de days en wouldn' nobody work in de field dat day. Oh, my Lord, dey would have de big eats on dem days. Would have a big pot right out to de barn whe' dey was shuckin corn en would boil it full as it could hold wid such as peas en rice en collards. Would cook big bread, too, en would save a hog's head for dat purpose often times."

"Colored people didn' have no schools nowhe' in dat day en time. No'um, us didn' go to no church neither cause we was way off dere on de plantation en wasn' any church nowhe' bout dere, Miss. I likes to be truthful en I tellin you, when we was comin up, we never didn' know nothin 'cept what we catch from de old folks."

"Old Massa, he used to come to de plantation drivin his rockaway en my Lord a mercy, we chillun did love to run en meet him. Dey used to have a great big gate to de lane of de plantation en when we been hear him comin, we would go a runnin en holler, 'Massa comin! Massa comin!' En he would come ridin through de big gate en say, 'Yonder my little niggers! How my little niggers? Come here en tell me how you all.' Den we would go a runnin to him en try to tell him what he ax us. Yes'um, we was sho pleased to see old Massa cause we had to stay right dere on dat plantation all de time round bout dat old woman what tended to us. Used to hear my mother en my father speak bout dey had to get a ticket from dey boss to go anywhe' dey wanted to go off de place. Pataroller catch dem off de plantation somewhe' widout dat walkin ticket, dey would whip dem most to death. Never didn' hear bout old Massa whippin none of dem, but he was very tight on dem, my father say. Cose he give dem abundance of rations en somethin to eat all de time, but colored people sho been work for what dey would get in dem days. Didn' get nothin dey never pay for. It been like dis, what rations us parents would get, dat would be to dey house en what we chillun been get would be to de old woman's house what took care of us."

"Well, Miss, some people stays here wid me, but dey works out en I tries to help dem out somehow. No, mam, we all stays right here together en while dey on de job, I tries to look out for de chillun. I just thinkin bout when we come to a certain age, honey, it tough. Chillun is a heap of trouble, I say. Well, I was de mother of five, but dey all dead 'cept one. My husband, he been dead seven years. Yes'um, dis a bad little girl settin here in my lap en dat one over dere in de bed, he a boy what a right smart larger den dis one." (Little girl just can stand alone). (Little boy wakes up). "Son, dere you wantin to get up en I don' know whe' near a rag to put on you is. Dere, you want a piece of bread fore you is dress. Who undressed you last night nohow? Boy, you got to stand dere en wait till your mamma come home cause I can' find none your rags. What de matter wid you? You so hungry, you just standin dere wid your mouth droolin dat way. Dere your bread en tea on de bureau. Gwine on en get it." (Little boy's breakfast consisted of a cold biscuit and a little cold coffee poured in an empty coffee can. The little girl sat with a clump of cold hominy in her hand on which she nibbled.)

"Lord, I think what a blessin it would be if chillun dese days was raise like dey used to be, Miss. Yes, mam, we had what you call strict fathers en mothers den, but chillun ain' got dem dese days. Oh, dey would whip you en put de lash to you in dat day en time. Yes'um, Miss, if we never do right, my father would put it to us. Sho meant what he say. Wouldn' never whip you on Sunday though. Say dat he would get you tomorrow. Den when Monday come, he would knock all bout like he had forget, but toreckly he would call you up en he would sho work on you. Pa say, 'I'm not gwine let you catch me in no lie. When I tell you I gwine cut you, I gwine do it.' Miss, I is had my mother to hurt me so bad till I would just fall down en roll in de sand. Hurt! Dey hurt, dat dey did. Wouldn' whip you wid no clothes on neither. Would make you pull off. Yes, mam, I could sniffle a week, dey been cut me such licks. Thought dey had done me wrong, but dey know dey ain' been doin me wrong en I mean dey didn' play wid me."

"Miss, I think folks is livin too fast in de world today. Seems to me like all de young people is worser, I say. Well, I tell you, dey be ridin out all times of night en girls meetin up wid Miss Fortune. At least, our colored girls does. En don' care what dey do neither. Don' seem to care what dey do nor how dey do. De girls nowadays, dey gets dey livin. Girls settin higher den what dey makes demselves dese days."

Source: Josephine Bristow, colored, 73 years, Marion, S. C.
Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Jan., 1938

Project #1655
W. W. Dixon
Winnsboro, S. C.

ANNE BROOME
EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.

"Does you recollect de Galloway place just dis side of White Oak? Well dere's where I was born. When? Can't name de 'zact year but my ma say, no stork bird never fetch me but de fust railroad train dat come up de railroad track, when they built de line, fetched me. She say I was a baby, settin' on de cow-ketcher, and she see me and say to pa: 'Reubin, run out dere and get our baby befo' her falls off and gets hurt under them wheels! Do you know I believed dat tale 'til I was a big girl? Sure did, 'til white folks laugh me out of it!

"My ma was name Louisa. My marster was Billie Brice, but 'spect God done write sumpin' else on he forehead by dis time. He was a cruel marster; he whip me just for runnin' to de gate for to see de train run by. My missus was a pretty woman, flaxen hair, blue eyes, name Mary Simonton, 'til she marry.

"Us live in a two-room plank house. Plenty to eat and enough to wear 'cept de boys run 'round in their shirt tails and de girls just a one-piece homespun slip on in de summer time. Dat was not a hardship then. Us didn't know and didn't care nothin' 'bout a 'spectable 'pearance in those days. Dats de truth, us didn't.

"Gran'pa name Obe; gran'ma, name Rachel. Shoes? A child never have a shoe. Slaves wore wooden bottom shoes.

"My white folks went to New Hope Church. Deir chillun was mighty good to us all. Dere was Miss Martha, her marry Doctor Madden, right here at Winnsboro. Miss Mary marry Marster John Vinson, a little polite smilin' man, nice man, though. Then Miss Jane marry Marster John Young. He passed out, leavin' two lovely chillun, Kitty and Maggie. Both of them marry Caldwells. Dere was Marster Calvin, he marry Congressman Wallace's daughter, Ellen. Then dere was Marster Jim and Marster William, de last went to Florida.

"It was a big place, I tell you, and heaps and heaps of slaves. Some times they git too many and sell them off. My old mistress cry 'bout dat but tears didn't count wid old marster, as long as de money come a runnin' in and de rations stayed in de smoke house.

"Us had a fine carriage. Sam was de driver. Us go to Concord one Sunday and new Hope de next. Had quality fair neighbors. Dere was de Cockerells, 'Piscopalians, dat 'tend St. John in Winnsboro, de Adgers, big buckra, went to Zion in Winnsboro. Marster Burr Cockerell was de sheriff. 'Members he had to hang a man once, right in de open jailyard. Then dere was a poor buckra family name Marshall. Our white folks was good to them, 'cause they say his pappy was close kin to de biggest Jedge of our country, John Marshall.

"When de slaves got bad off sick, marster send for Dr. Walter Brice, his kin folks. Some times he might send for Dr. Madden, him's son-in-law, as how he was.

"When de Yankees come, all de young marsters was off in de 'Federate side. I see them now, gallopin' to de house, canteen boxes on their hips and de bayonets rattlin' by deir sides. De fust thing they ask, was: 'You got any wine?' They search de house; make us sing: 'Good Old Time 'Ligion'; put us to runnin' after de chickens and a cookin'. When they leave they burnt de gin house and everything in dere. They burn de smoke-house and wind up wid burnin' de big house.

"You through wid me now, boss? I sho' is glad of dat. Help all you kin to git me dat pension befo' I die and de Lord will bless you, honey. De Lord not gwine to hold His hand any longer 'ginst us. Us cleared de forests, built de railroads, cleaned up de swamps, and nursed de white folks. Now in our old ages, I hopes they lets de old slaves like me see de shine of some of dat money I hears so much talk 'bout. They say it's free as de gift of grace from de hand of de Lord. Good mornin' and God bless you, will be my prayer always. Has you got a dime to give dis old nigger, boss?"

Project #1655
Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Georgetown County

MOM HAGAR
(Verbatim Conversation)

Mom Hagar Brown lives in her little weathered cabin on forty odd acres left by her husband, Caleb Brown. Caleb died in Georgia where he had been sent to the penitentiary for stealing a hog that another man stole. Aunt Hagar has grands settled all around her and she and the grands divide up the acreage which is planted in corn, sweet potatoes, cotton, and some highland rice. She ministers to them all when sick, acts as mid-wife when necessary, and divides her all with her kin and friends--white and black. She wages a war on ground-moles, at which she laughs and says she resembles. Ground-mole beans almost a foot long protect and decorate her yard. She has apple and fig trees, and scuppernong grape vines grow rank and try to climb all her trees.

(Monday morning she hobbles up on a stick--limping and looking sick.) Comes in kitchen door.

Lillie: "Aunt Hagar, how you?"

Hagar: "Painful. Doctor tell me I got the tonsil. Want to represent me one time and take them out. I say, 'No Doctor! Get in hospital, can't get out! Let me stay here till my change come.' Yeddy? I ain't wuth! Ain't wuth! Ain't got a piece o' sense. Yeddy? Ellen say she want God to take she tomorrow? When you ready it's 'God take me now! All right son!" (Greeting Zackie who enters kitchen.)

Zackie: "Aunt Hagar, how you feel?"

Hagar: "I ain't wuth son. How's all?"

Zackie: "Need a little more grits!"

Lillie: "Hear Zackie! Mom Hagar, that ain't hinder him ordering another!" (The fact that food is scarce doesn't limit Zackie's family.)

Hagar: "You hear bout this Jeremiah broke in somewhere--get all kinds likker and canned things and different thing?"

Zackie: "Must a broke in that place call 'Stumble Inn!' (Very seriously.) That Revenue man been there."

Hagar: "I yeddy last night! Say he there in news-paper. Mary say, 'see 'em in paper!' Mrs. White gone to child funeral. That been in paper too. Mary see that in paper. Easter say old lady gone dere. Doctor say better go. Child sick. Child seven years old. Fore they get there tell 'em say, 'Child dead!'

"People gone in patch to pick watermillon. Ain't want child to go. You know chillun! Child gone in. Ain't want 'em for go. You know. Child pick watermillon. Ketch up one--I forgotten what pound they say. Roll. Roll duh watermillon. Roll 'em on snake! They say, 'Snake bite 'em?' Child say, 'No. Must a scratch.' See blood run on boy leg. Child get unconscion that minute. Gone right out. Jess so. Ease out so. I cry. I cry!"

Lillie: "You know 'em, Mom Hagar?"

Hagar: "No! No! Lill, fever got me! Cold get me till my rump dead. Got hospital boy rouse one time say, 'Ma, less go home! Red stripe snake bite me.'"

* * * * *

Hagar: "Klu Klux?" (Chin cupped in hand--elbow on knee--looking way off--)

"Reckon that the way them old timey people call 'em. Have to run way, you go church. Going to come in to ketch you or do any mischievous thing--come carry you place they going beat you--in suit of white. Old white man to Wilderness Plantation. Parish old man name. Treat his wife bad. Come to house, ain't crack. Come right in suit of white. Drag him out--right to Woodstock there where Mr. Dan get shoot. Put a beating on that white man there till he mess up! Oman never gone back to him yet!"

"A man wuz name (I forgot what the man name wuz)--wuz a white man mess round wid a colored woman and they didn't do a God thing but gone and put a beating on you, darling! Come in. Grab you and go. Put a beating on you till you can't see. Know they got a good grub to lick you wid. They git done you can't sit down. Ain't going carry you just for play with."

"Mom Hagar, you wanter vote?"

Hagar: "Oh my God!"

"Aunt Hagar are the colored people happier now than the old timey slavery time people?"

Hagar: "Young people now got the world by force. Don't care. Got more trick than law low. Tricky! Can't beat the old people. Can't equal to 'em. Some the young people you say 'AMEN' in church they make fun o' you. Every tub stand on his own bottom. Can't truss 'em.

"Ma say some dem plan to run way. Say, 'Less run! Less run!' Master ketch dem and fetch dem in. Lay 'em cross barrel. Beat dem till they wash in blood. Fetch 'em back. Place 'em cross the barrel--hogsket barrel--Christ! They ramp wash in blood! Beat Ma sister. He sister sickly. Never could clear task--like he want. My Ma have to work he self to death to help Henritta so sickly. Clear task to keep from beat. Some obersheer mean. Oaks labor. (Meaning her Ma and ma's family were laboring on Oaks Plantation--the plantation where Gov. Joseph Allston and Theodosia his wife lived on Waccamaw.) Mother Sally Doctor. Ma got four chillun. One was Emmeline, one Getty, one Katrine one Hagar! I older than Gob (Katrine). Could a call doctor for Gob if I had any sense." (Big nuff to gone for doctor when Gob born.)

"Stay in the field!
Stay in the field!
Stay in the field till the war been end!"

(This is Aunt Hagar's favorite song)

Mom Hagar Brown--age 77
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
July 4th, 1937.

Project #-1655
Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Georgetown County

(Some recollections of Mom Hagar Brown)

Visitor: "Mom Hagar, how old did you say you were?"

Hagar: "Don't take care of my age! Had me gang of chillun when ma die. I had Samuel, I had Elias, I had Arthur, I had Beck. Oh, my God! Man, go way! I had Sally! I had Sally again. I didn't want to give the name 'Sally' again. Say, 'First Sally come carry girl.' Ma say, 'Gin 'em name 'Sally!' I faid (afraid) that other one come back for him. Had to do what Ma say. Had to please 'em. Ma name Sally. Ma chillun Catrine, Hagar, Emmeline, Gettie. I born Columbia. Come Freedom, when we left Columbia, ma finer till we get in Charston. Freedom come, battle till we get 'Oaks.' (Battled till they reached the 'Oaks Plantation--.')Stay there till people gin (begin) move bout. Come Watsaw. Gone 'Collins Creek.' In the 'Reb Time' you know, when they sell you bout--Massa sell you all about. Broke through them briar and branch and thing to go to church. Them patrol get you. Church 'Old Bethel.' You don't know 'em. Been gone!

"I yeddy ma! (heard my mother) Ma say, 'I too glad my chillun aint been here Rebs time! Gin you task you rather drown than not done that task! Ma say Auntie poor we weak creeter, couldn't strain. Ma had to strain to fetch sister up with her task. Dere (there) in rice-field. Ma say they on flat going to islant (island), see cloud, pray God send rain! When rooster crow, say they pray God to stop 'em! Rooster crow, broke up wedder! When rooster crow, scare 'em. Broke up rain! Ma say they drag the pot in the river when the flat going cross. Do this to make it rain. Massa! Don't done you task, driver wave that whip, put you over the barrel, beat you so blood run down! I wouldn't take 'em! Ma say, 'I too glad my chillun aint born then!'

"Any cash money? Where you gwine get 'em? Only cash the gospel! Have to get the gospel. Give you cloth! Give you ration! Jess (just according) many chillun you got. Ma say chillun feed all the corn to the fowl.

Chillun say,

'Papa love he fowl!
Papa love he fowl!
Three peck a day!
Three peck a day!

"Parent come to door. Not a grain of corn leave! Poor people! Come, drop! Not a grain! Everybody on the hill help. One give this; one give that. Handle 'em light! (Very careful with victuals). Gone you till Saddy (Saturday.) (Will last you until Saturday when you are rationed again.)

"When Ma get down, she say, 'I gone leave! I gone leave here now! But, oh, Hagar! Be a mudder and fadder for Katrine!'

"I say, (I call Katrine 'Gob') I say, 'Better tell Gob to look atter me!'

"Ma say, 'When I gone I ax the Master when he take me, to send drop o' rain to let true believer know I gone to Glory!'

"When they lift the body to take 'em to the church, rain, 'Tit! Tit! Tit! Tit!' on the house! At the gate, moon shine out' Going to the church! Bury to the 'Oaks.'

"Gob say, 'Titty, all you chillun bury at Oaks. Ma to Oaks. How come you wanter bury Watsaw?"

"I say, 'When the trumpet sound, I yeddy!' (When the trumpet sounds, I'll hear it!)

"I marry right to Collins Creek hill. Big dance out the door! I free! I kick up! Ma, old rebs time people!"

Mom Hagar Brown
Age--(She says 'Born first o'
Freedom' but got her age from
a contemporary and reported 77)
Murrells Inlet, S. C.

Project #-1655
Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler
Murrells Inlet, S. C.
Georgetown County

EX-SLAVE STORY
(Verbatim)

"My old man can 'member things and tell you things and he word carry. We marry to Turkey Hill Plantation. Hot supper. Cake, wine, and all. Kill cow, hog, chicken and all. That time when you marry, so much to eat! Finance wedding! Now--

"We 'lamp-oil chillun'; they 'lectric light' chillun now! We call our wedding 'lamp-oil wedding'. Hall jam full o' people; out-of-door jam full. Stand before the chimbley.

"When that first war come through, we born. I don't know just when I smell for come in the world.

"Big storm? Yinnah talk big storm hang people up on tree? (Noah!) Shake? I here in house. House gone, 'Rack-a-rack-a-racker!'

"My husband run out--with me and my baby left in bed! Baby just come in time of the shake.

"When I first have sense, I 'member I walk on the frost bare-feet. Cow-belly shoe.

"My husband mother have baby on the flat going to Marion and he Auntie Cinda have a baby on that flat.

"From yout (youth) I been a Brown and marry a Brown; title never change.

"Old timey sing?

1.

"Wish I had a hundred dog
And half wuz hound!
Take it in my fadder field
And we run the rabbit down!
Chorus: Now he hatch
He hatch!
He hatch!
And I run the rabbit down!

2.

"I wish I had a hundred head o' dog
And half of them wuz hound
I'd take 'em back in my bacco field
And run the rabbit down.
Chorus: Now he hatch--he hatch!
He hatch--he hatch!
Now he hatch--he hatch!
And I run them rabbit down!"

"That wuz a sing we used to have on the plantation. Then we make up sing--we have sing for chillun. Make 'em go sleep. Every one have his own sing.

"Bye-o-baby!
Go sleepy!
Bye-o-baby!
Go sleepy!
What a big alligator
Coming to catch
This one boy!"

"Diss here the Watson one boy child!
Bye-o-baby go sleepy!
What a big alligator
Coming to catch this one boy!"

Emmie Jordan: "Missus, I too plague with bad heart trouble to give you the sing!"

Song and conversation Given by

Mom Louisa Brown (Born time of 'Reb people War')
Waverly Mills, S. C.
Near Parkersville, S. C.

Project -1655
Jessie A. Butler
Charleston, S. C.
Approximately 930 words

FOLKLORE

Stories from Ex-slaves
Henry Brown
Ex-slave Age 79

Henry Brown, negro caretaker of the Gibbes House, at the foot of Grove street, once a part of Rose Farm, is a splendid example of a type once frequently met with in the South. Of a rich brown complexion, aquiline of feature, there is none of the "Gullah" about Henry. He is courteous and kindly in his manner, and speaks more correctly than the average negro.

"My father was Abram Brown, and my mother's name was Lucy Brown," he said. "They were slaves of Dr. Arthur Gordon Rose. My grandfather and grandmother were grown when they came from Africa, and were man and wife in Africa. I was born just about two years before the war so I don't remember anything about slavery days, and very little about war times, except that we were taken to Deer Pond, about half mile from Columbia. Dr. Rose leased the place from Dr. Ray, and took his family there for safety. My mother died while he was at Deer Pond, and was buried there, but all the rest of my people is buried right here at Rose Farm. My two brothers were a lot older than me, and were in the war. After the war my brother Tom was on the police force, he was a sergeant, and they called him Black Sergeant. My brother Middleton drove the police wagon: they used to call it Black Maria.

"My father, Abram Brown, was the driver or head man at Rose plantation. Dr. Rose thought a heap of him, and during the war he put some of his fine furniture and other things he brought from England in my father's house and told him if the Yankees came to say the things belonged to him. Soon after that the soldiers came. They asked my father who the things belonged to and he said they belonged to him. The soldiers asked him who gave them to him, and he said his master gave them to him. The Yankees told him that they thought he was lying, and if he didn't tell the truth they would kill him, but he wouldn't say anything else so they left him alone and went away.

"Work used to start on the plantation at four o'clock in the morning, when the people went in the garden. At eight or nine o'clock they went into the big fields. Everybody was given a task of work. When you finished your task you could quit. If you didn't do your work right you got a whipping.

"The babies were taken to the Negro house and the old women and young colored girls who were big enough to lift them took care of them. At one o'clock the babies were taken to the field to be nursed, then they were brought back to the Negro house until the mothers finished their work, then they would come for them.

"Dr. Rose gave me to his son, Dr. Arthur Barnwell Rose, for a Christmas present. After the war Dr. Rose went back to England. He said he couldn't stay in a country with so many free Negroes. Then his son Dr. Arthur Barnwell Rose had the plantation. Those was good white people, good white people.

"The colored people were given their rations once a week, on Monday, they got corn, and a quart of molasses, and three pounds of bacon, and sometimes meat and peas. They had all the vegetables they wanted; they grew them in the gardens. When the boats first came in from Africa with the slaves, a big pot of peas was cooked and the people ate it with their hands right from the pot. The slaves on the plantation went to meeting two nights a week and on Sunday they went to Church, where they had a white preacher Dr. Rose hired to preach to them.

"After the war when we came back to Charleston I went to work as a chimney-sweep. I was seven years old then. They paid me ten cents a story. If a house had two stories I got twenty cents; if it had three stories I got thirty cents. When I got too big to go up the chimneys I went back to Rose plantation. My father was still overseer or driver. I drove a cart and plowed. Afterwards I worked in the phosphate mines, then came back here to take care of the garden and be caretaker. I planted all these Cherokee roses you see round here, and I had a big lawn of Charleston grass. I aint able to keep it like I used to."

Henry is intensely religious. He says "the people don't notice God now because they're free." "Some people say there aint no hell," he continued, "but I think there must be some kind of place like that, because you got to go some place when you leave this earth, and you got to go to the master that you served when you were here. If you serve God and obey His commandments then you go to Him, but if you don't pay any attention to what he tells you in His Book, just do as you choose and serve the devil, then you got to go to him. And it don't make any difference if you're poor or rich, it don't matter what the milliner (millionaire) man says."

He seemed so proud of his garden, with its broad view across the Ashley River, showing his black walnut, pear and persimmon trees, grape vines and roses, that the writer said, "Henry, you know a poet has said that we are nearer God in the garden than anywhere else on earth." "Well ma'am, you see," he replied, with a winning smile, "that's where God put us in the first place."

Project #1655
Augustus Ladson
Charleston, S. C.

EX-SLAVE BORN 1857
GRAND PARENTS CAME DIRECTLY FROM AFRICA

I was nickname' durin' the days of slavery. My name was Henry but they call' me Toby. My sister, Josephine, too was nickname' an' call' Jessee. Our mistress had a cousin by that name. My oldes' bredder was a Sergeant on the Charleston Police Force around 1868. I had two other sister', Louise an' Rebecca.

My firs' owner was Arthur Barnwell Rose. Then Colonel A. G. Rhodes bought the plantation who sol' it to Capen Frederick W. Wagener. James Sottile then got in possession who sol' it to the DeCostas, an' a few weeks ago Mrs. Albert Callitin Simms, who I'm tol' is a former member of Congress, bought it. Now I'm wonderin' if she is goin' to le' me stay. I hope so 'cus I'm ol' now en can't work.

My pa was name' Abraham Brown; he was bo'n on Coals Islan' in Beaufort County. Colonel Rhodes bought him for his driver, then he move here. I didn't know much 'bout him; he didn't live so long afta slavery 'cus he was ol.

Colonel Rhodes had a son an' a daughter. The son went back to England afta his death an' the daughter went to Germany with her husban'. They ain't never come back so the place was sol' for tax.

Durin' the war we was carry to Deer Pond, twelve miles on dis side of Columbia. W'en the war was end' pa brought my sister, Louise, Rebecca, who was too small to work, Josephine an' me, home. All my people is long-lifted. My grand pa an' grand ma on pa side come right from Africa. They was stolen an' brought here. They use to tell us of how white men had pretty cloth on boats which they was to exchange for some of their o'nament'. W'en they take the o'nament' to the boat they was carry way down to the bottom an' was lock' in. They was anchored on or near Sullivan's Islan' w'ere they been feed like dogs. A big pot was use' for cookin'. In that pot peas was cook' an' lef' to cool. Everybody went to the pot with the han's an' all eat frum the pot.

I was bo'n two years before the war an' was seven w'en it end. That was in 1857. I never went to school but five months in my life, but could learn easy. Very seldom I had to be tol' to do the same thing twice.

The slaves had a plenty o' vegetables all the time. Master planted t'ree acres jus' for the slaves which was attended to in the mornin's before tas' time. All provision was made as to the distribution on Monday evenin's afta tas'.

My master had two place: one on Big Islan' an' on Coals Islan' in Beaufort County. He didn't have any overseer. My pa was his driver.

Pa say this place was given to Mr. Rhodes with a thousand acres of lan' by England. But it dwindled to thirty-five w'en the other was taken back by England.

There wasn't but ten slaves on this plantation. The driver call' the slaves at four so they could git their breakfas'. They always work the garden firs' an' at seven go in the co'n an' cotton fiel'. Some finish their tas' by twelve an' others work' 'til seven but had the tas' to finish. No one was whip' 'less he needed it; no one else could whip master' slaves. He wouldn't stan' for it. We had it better then than now 'cause white men lynch an' burn now an' do other things they couldn't do then. They shoot you down like dogs now, an' nothin' said or done.

No slave was suppose' to be whip' in Charleston except at the Sugar House. There was a jail for whites, but if a slave ran away an' got there he could disown his master an' the state wouldn't le' him take you.

All collud people has to have a pass w'en they went travelin'; free as well as slaves. If one didn't the patrollers, who was hired by rich white men would give you a good whippin' an' sen' you back home. My pa didn't need any one to write his pass 'cause he could write as well as master. How he got his education, I didn't know.

Sat'day was a workin' day but the tas' was much shorter then other days. Men didn't have time to frolic 'cause they had to fin' food for the fambly; master never give 'nough to las' the whole week. A peck o' co'n, t'ree pound o' beacon, quart o' molasses, a quart o' salt, an' a pack o' tobacco was given the men. The wife got the same thing but chillun accordin' to age. Only one holiday slaves had an' that was Christmas.

Co'nshuckin' parties was conducted by a group of fa'mers who take their slaves or sen' them to the neighborin' ones 'til all the co'n was shuck'. Each one would furnish food 'nough for all slaves at his party. Some use to have nothin' but bake potatas an' some kind of vegetable.

An unmarried young man was call' a half-han'. W'en he want to marry he jus' went to master an' say there's a gal he would like to have for wife. Master would say yes an' that night more chicken would be fry an' everything eatable would be prepare at master' expense. The couple went home afta the supper, without any readin' of matrimony, man an' wife.

A man once married his ma en' didn't know it. He was sell from her w'en 'bout eight years old. When he grow to a young men, slavery then was over, he met this woman who he like' an' so they were married. They was married a month w'en one night they started to tell of their experiences an' how many times they was sol'. The husban' tol' how he was sol' from his mother who liked him dearly. He tol' how his ma faint' w'en they took him away an' how his master then use to bran' his baby slaves at a year ol'. W'en he showed her the bran' she faint' 'cause she then realize' that she had married her son.

Slaves didn't have to use their own remedy for sickness for good doctors been hired to look at them. There was, as is, though, some weed use for fever an' headache as: blacksnake root, furrywork, jimpsin weed, one that tie' on the head which bring sweat from you like hail, an' hickory leaf. If the hickory is keep on the head too long it will blister it.

W'en the war was fightin' the white men burn the bridge at the foot of Spring Street so the Yankees couldn't git over but they buil' pontoos while some make the horses swim 'cross. One night while at Deer Pond, I hear something like thunder until 'bout eleven the next day. W'en the thing I t'ought was thunder stop', master tell us that evenin' we was free. I wasn't surprise to know for as little as I was I know the Yankees was goin' to free us with the help of God.

I was married twice, an' had two gals an' a boy with firs' wife. I have t'ree boys with the second; the younges' is jus' eight.

Lincoln did jus' what God inten' him to do, but I think nothin' 'bout Calhoun on 'account of what he say in one of his speech 'bout collud people. He said: "keep the niggers down."

To see collud boys goin' 'round now with paper an' pencil in their han's don't look real to me. Durin' slavery he would be whip' 'til not a skin was lef' on his body.

My pa was a preacher why I become a Christian so early; he preach' on the plantation to the slaves. On Sunday the slaves went to the white church. He use to tell us of hell an' how hot it is. I was so 'fraid of hell 'til I was always tryin' to do the right thing so I couldn't go to that terrible place.