Chapter I: Part 1

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SLAVE NARRATIVES

_A Folk History of Slavery in the United States_

_From Interviews with Former Slaves_

TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY

THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT

1936-1938

ASSEMBLED BY

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT

WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION

FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

_Illustrated with Photographs_

WASHINGTON 1941

VOLUME XIV

SOUTH CAROLINA NARRATIVES--PART 3

Prepared by the Federal Writers' Project of

the Works Progress Administration

for the State of Alabama

[HW:] Handwritten note

[TR:] Transcriber's note

INFORMANTS

- Adeline Jackson

- Cordelia Anderson Jackson

- Agnes James

- Fred James

- Isiah Jeffries

- Thomas Jefferson

- Henry D. Jenkins

- Maria Jenkins

- Paul Jenkins

- Emma Jeter

- Adeline Hall Johnson

- Anna Johnson

- Jack Johnson

- James Johnson

- Rev. James H. Johnson

- Jane Johnson

- Jimmie Johnson

- Mary Johnson

- Miemy Johnson

- Tom Johnson

- Richard (Look-up) Jones

- Wesley Jones

- Sallie Layton Keenan

- Ella Kelly

- Martha Kelly

- Mary Jane Kelley

- Gabe Lance

- Ephriam (Mike) Lawrence

- Ben Leitner

- Mary Ann Lipscomb

- Govan Littlejohn

- Easter Lockhart

- Gable Locklier

- Walter Long

- Gillam Lowden

- Emma Lowran

- Nellie Loyd

- Amie Lumpkin

- Ballam Lyles

- Eison Lyles

- Moses Lyles

- George McAlilley

- Ed McCrorey (Mack)

- Richard Mack

- Jake McLeod

- Bill McNeil

- Andy Marion

- Milton Marshall

- Charlie Meadow

- Albert Means

- Andrew Means

- Jason Miller

- Lucinda Miller

- Cureton Milling

- Abbey Mishow

- Sam Mitchell

- Charity Moore

- Sena Moore

- Silas Nelson

- Susan Nelson

- William Oliver

- Albert Oxner

- Ann Palmer

- George Patterson

- Sallie Paul

- Lina Anne Pendergrass

- Amy Perry

- Rob Perry

- Victoria Perry

- John Petty

- Sarah Poindexter

- Sam Polite

- William Pratt

- Henry Pristell

- Junius Quattlebaum

Adeline Jackson

*Interview with Adeline Jackson, 88 years old*
--_W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C._

"I was born four miles southwest of where I is now, on de other side of Woodward Station. I was a slave of old Marster John Mobley, de richest man, de larges' land owner, and wid more niggers than any other white man in de county. He was de seventh son of de seventh son, so he allowed, and you knows dat's a sign of a big family, lots of cows, mules, horses, money, chillun and everything dat's worth havin'. He had a good wife too; dis de way he got her, he say. She de daughter of old Maj. Andy McLean, who got a body full of bullets in de Revolution; he didn't want Katie to marry Marster John. Marster John git on a mule and ride up in de night. Miss Katie runned out, jump up behin' him, run away and marry Marster John. They had de same birthday, March 27th, but Marster John two years older than Miss Katie. Dat day was looked to, same as Christmas, every year dat come. Big times then, I tell you!

"My mistress had long hair, techin' de floor and could dance, so Marster John said, wid a glass of water on top of her head. Marster John got 'ligion and went all de way lak de jailer in de Bible. All de house jined wid him and mos' of de slaves. It was Baptist and he built a spankin' good church buildin' down de road, all out of his own money, and de cemetery dere yet. He called it 'Fellowship.' Some fine tombstones in dere yet. De finest cost two thousand dollars, dat's his daughter Nancy's tomb. Marster John and my old mistress buried in dere.

"When my younges' mistress, name Marion Rebecca, married her second cousin, Marster Edward P. Mobley, I was give to her and went wid them to de June place. It was called dat because old Doctor June built it and sold it to Marster Ed. I nussed her first chillun: Edward, Moses Hill, John and Katie. It was a large, two-story frame house, with chimneys at each gable end. Marster Edward got to be as rich as old marster; he owned de June place, de Rochelle plantation, de Peay place and de Roebuck place. Yes sir, course us had overseers for so many slaves and plantations. I 'member Mr. Oze Brown, Mr. Neely and Mr. Tim Gladney. In course of time I was took off de nussin' and put to de field. I drapped cotton seed, hoed some, and picked cotton.

"I don't 'member no poor buckra, outside de overeeers, 'cept a Mr. Reed dat lived down on wateroe, passin' our house sometime. He was a Godforsaken lookin' man dat marster or mistress always give somethin'.

"Our neighbors was de Pearys, de Durhams, de Picketts, de Barbers and Boulwares. Doctor Henry Gibson was our doctor. All dese folks kep' a pack of hounds to run deer and foxes. Yes, I has eat many pieces of deer. Good? I wouldn't fool you, taste it and you'll hunger for it ever afterward.

"Yes sir, at certain times we worked long and hard, and you had to be 'ticular. De only whipping I got was for chopping down a good corn stalk near a stump in a new ground. Marster never sold a slave but swaps were made wid kin people to advantage, slaves' wives and husbands sometimes. I never learned to read or write. I went to White Poplar Springs Church, de Baptist church my mistress 'tended. De preacher was Mr. Cartledge. He allowed Miss Marion was de flower of his flock.

"Slaves lived in quarters, a stretch of small houses off from de White House. Patrollers often come to search for stray slaves; wouldn't take your word for it. They would search de house. If they ketch one widout a pass, they whipped him. We got most our outside news Sunday at church. When farm work was not pressing, we got all of Saturday to clean up 'round de houses, and wash and iron our clothes.

"Everything lively at Christmas time, dances wid fiddles, pattin' and stick rattlin', but when I jined de church, I quit dancin'.

"After de war, a man came along on a red horse; he was dressed in a blue uniform and told us we was free. De Yankees dat I 'members was not gentlefolks. They stole everything they could take and de meanest thing I ever see was shoats they half killed, cut off de hams, and left de other parts quiverin' on de ground.

"I married Mose Jackson, after freedom, and had a boy, Henry. Last I heard, he was at Shelby, North Carolina. We had a daughter, Mary, she married Eph Brown. She had ten chillun, many gran' chillun, they's my great-gran' chillun. My mistress was a good Christian woman, she give me a big supper when I was married. Her house, durin' de war, always had some sick or wounded soldier. I 'member her brother, Zed, come home wid a leg gone. Her cousin, Theodore, was dere wid a part of his jaw gone. My mistress could play de piano and sing de old songs. I 'members Marster Theodore had trouble wid de words. Dere was a song called 'Jaunita', 'bout a fountain. Marster Theodore would try hard, but would say, everytime, 'Jawneeta', and de folks would laugh but mistress never would crack a smile but just go on wid another song. I thinks everybody should jine de church and then live right. Have prayers in de family befo' gitting in de bed. It would have good change, 'specially in de towns I thinks.

"Yes, women in family way worked up to near de time, but guess Doctor Gibson knowed his business. Just befo' de time, they was took out and put in de cardin' and spinnin' rooms.

"Yes, I see folks put irons in de fire and some throw a big chunk of fire into de yard to make de screech owl stop his scary sounds.

"Befo' I forgits, Marster Edward bought a slave in Tennessee just 'cause he could play de fiddle. Named him 'Tennessee Ike' and he played 'long wid Ben Murray, another fiddler. Sometime all of us would be called up into de front yard to play and dance and sing for Miss Marion, de chillun and visitors. I was much happier them days than now. Maybe it won't be so bad when I gits my old age pension."

Cordelia Anderson Jackson

*Interview with Cordelia Anderson Jackson, 78 years old*
*157 Kings St. Spartanburg, S.C.*
--_Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C._

Cordelia lives in a small shack with some friends. She is quite an actor and a tireless teller of yarns. She still ties her head up in a white rag and has large eyes set far apart and a very flat nose. She is ebony colored. She is a firm believer in her religion and she enjoys shouting on any occasion for joy or for sorrow.

"White folks tells stories 'bout 'ligion. Dey tells stories 'bout it kaise dey's 'fraid of it. I stays independent of what white folks tells me when I shouts. De Spirit moves me every day, dat's how I stays in. White folks don't feel sech as I does; so dey stays out. Can't serve God all de time; allus something getting in de way. Dey tries me and den I suddenly draps back to serving de Holy God. Never does it make no difference how I's tossed about. Jesus, He comes and saves me everytime. I's had a hard time, but I's blessed now--no mo' mountains.

"Ever since I a child I is liked white folks. Dey's good and dey does not know why dey tells stories 'bout Jesus. I got a heap mo' in slavery dan I does now; was sorry when Freedom got here. I 'specks I is nigh to a hundred, but dat's so old. I jest calls myself any whars twixt seventy-five and a hundred. I recollects slavery, though. Ma was Charlotte Anderson and she lived in Union County wid de Tuckers, jest across from de Richards Quarter.

"Biggest sight I ever see'd was dat balloon when it come down on Pea Ridge. De man in it everybody addressed as Professor (Prof. Lowe--1861). He let uncle Jerry git in it. Mr. McKissick helped uncle Jerry up in it. It was de first balloon ever come to Union county, and 'til dis day I don't like no balloons.

"Airplanes jest tickles, I cannot tell you how come, but dey jest does. I went out dar (throwing her arm in the direction of the landing field) and see'd 'em light. Dressed-up white folks hopped down out'n it from a little do' dat a man wid leg'uns and a cap on opened. Thing gwine on wid lots of burring and all like dat. When dem folks got out, some mo' clam'ned in. Dat same man opened de do', shot (shut) it, and de plane tuck off. White folks 'lowed dat it was gwine to 'lanta, Ga.

"Right dar I 'low'd, when I goes up like dat, I sho ain't gwine up wid no man--I'se gwine up wid Jesus.

"Dat white woman [HW: Amelia Earhardt] went up and ain't nobody found her yet and it been two months. Lawd, she looking fer de world's end. God don't mean fer womens to do nothing like dat. Womens is stumbling blocks at times.

"I got a boy dat been through school. He stays off, but he treats me so good and talks to me like white folks does; so I calls him, 'white child'. I 'longs to de church club. He tries to larn me to talk proper when I goes out to dem meetings, but I fergits how befo' I reaches de meeting. Us named it de 'Mothers' Club'. 'White child' pays fer me to 'long dar, and when I is down wid spells, dey nurses me. 'White child' pays fer my 'onsurance' so dat I does not have no worriment to aggravate my soul.

"White child birthed one Sunday morning jest a year atter de big earthquake. It was also Christmas morning, kaise my child drapped a year to de day atter dat earthquake and I feared dat he was not gwinter have no sense. But My God, how he can read!

"One night, Aug. 30th, our house started rocking. We thought a panther was a-rocking it, kaise my old man had see'd one. He run out wid a gun and went to de wood pile; den he hollered to me and said, 'Delia, come out here, de whole world is shaking'. God sho showed his power dat night. Ever since dat I been fixed wid God. It won't long atter dat, us heard a noise in our other room. Old man went in dar and see'd a panther climbing up fer our rations. He grabbed his gun from over de do' and shot dat panther in de corner.

"I used to think dat niggers was fools dat called me a nigger. I go and tell Miss Nellie Tucker. She 'low, 'No, you ain't no nigger when other niggers calls you one.' Marse William whistle like a partridge; den Miss Nellie play her pianny. I dance and Marse send fer me a sugar and butter biscuit. Marse git his banjo and he pick it fer me to sing 'Oh, Bob white, is your wheat ripe? No, no, not quite.' Dat when I lived as a little gal on Marse William's home tract, called Musgrove Tract.

VISION: "Was traveling in a gold chariot to Heaven. De overseer had come to bleed me, but I went up. Something say to look back and see whar you been. I looked back and said, 'Lawd, take me whar no rent won't bother me!' Lawd answer, 'Do not pray dat way. Pray fer Him to do His will'. Den I axed de Lawd whar is I. He say, 'Did you look down on dem chimneys?' Den I see'd dat I was in de chariot wid water all under me. It looked like de sky.

"To-day, I am so glad to walk about in Jesus' care. I wish people could see my faith. I am a Christian."

Agnes James

*Interview with Mom Agnes James, 80 years old*
*Claussens, S.C.*
--_Annie Ruth Davis_

"Yes'um, I used to live in slavery time, but de Lord above know, I sho don' really recollect nothin much to tell you 'bout slavery time. I don' know exactly how old I is. Think I 'bout 80 some odd. Think dat 'bout de age Bubba Gregg say I is. I tell you, I was so chillunfied in slavery time, I ain' had no time to study 'bout no age. I say, I was so chillunfied. Yes'um, dat it. Dat somethin dat I ought to had ax my grandmammy 'bout how old I is, so den I might could call it up to you right sharp. Oh, I wishes now I had ax my grandmammy dat word fore she die.

"Us belong to Mr. Hector Cameron fore freedom come here. Right down dere to Salem Church, dat whe' I was born. You hear talk of Miss Janie Little over dere to Marion, ain' you? Dat who used to be my mittie in dem days. Yes, mam, boss had pick me out to tend to Miss Janie. You see, he give all his daughters one of us to have a care for dem.

"My white folks, dey had a right smart of colored people dey own en far as I can reckon, dey been spend mighty good treatment to dem all de time. I know 'bout old Miss used to love to feed us, my mercy! White folks would send for all us chillun to go up to de big house en get somethin to eat twixt meals. Yes'um, dey had a colored people quarter dat been settin way back up on de hill. Had to have a quarter 'cause dat whe' us been stay all de time old Miss won' stuffin' somethin down we mouth. I remember, dere used to was de most pretty flowers in de lane gwine through dem woods from us house right up to old Massa's yard en my Lord, honey, I did love to be de first one long dere on a mornin to see could I find a blossom to fetch to old Miss. Look like old Miss would be so please to see my granny marchin all we chillun up dat path 'cause when we would go dere on a mornin, she would set right down on de steps en talk wid us. Would set dere in listen to see could all us say dat prayin blessin she had learned us to speak fore she would hand us anything to eat. Den she would give us everyone a spoonful of dis here worm cure. Great Jerusalem! Miss would make dat herself out dese black lookin seed mixed up in molasses. I remember, she would bring a big bowl of dat out dere en would make Pickle tote it round for her while she put it in us mouth. Yes, mam, Miss would give us all a spoonful of dat every mornin en den she would ax us de next mornin if any us had any worms. No, mam, she never didn' give us any other kind of medicine as I can remember. Just give us dat en den feed us some milk en bread. Dat all she give us, but I tell you, I was as proud of dat milk en bread as I is of de rations I get dese days 'cause I never know no different den. No'um, didn' nobody eat den like dey do now. All de people would make dey own gardens in dem days en would fix soup en fry meat. I used to been so glad to get me a 'tatoe en a piece of bread. I thought I was eatin cake.

"I never didn' work in no field or nothin like dat no time. When I was a little small girl, I would stay dere home en play 'bout de yard en nurse my mammy's baby while she was workin in de field. Yes'um, old Massa would give her task to pick cotton en hoe cotton en pick peas or somethin another like dat 'bout all de time. Don' know whe' she work all day or no, but I know she would always let up at 12 o'clock en come to de house to get her somethin to eat. Can remember dat good as anything. Oh, she would have to cook herself when she come home bein' dere wasn' none of we chillun big enough to cook nothin. I recollects, I used to get chips en pile dem up for her 'cause she always been tell me, if de baby go to sleep, to get up some chips en put dem on de steps for her to hurry en start fire wid. She would cook us meat en bread like corn hoecake en fry meat de most of de time. Den another time, she would bake a big round loaf like dat en break it in two en give me half en my brother Charlie de other part. Would lay a piece of meat on de top of it. No'um, I reckon 'bout all de people used to cook in de chimney. I know my mammy used to cook in de chimney en I don' think she thought nothin 'bout no stove in dem days. Cose if she did, I know we chillun didn' get it.

"Yes, Lord, I been married 'bout 16 years fore my husband died. Yes'um, I had a tolerable good size weddin over dere to Mr. Elija Gregg's house. Been married in a white dress trimmed wid blue ribbon. You is hear talk of a cream of tartar dress, ain' you? Oh, my Lord of mercy, dere was a crowd of people dere dat night to get dey eye full en deyself full, too, I say. Yes'um, I had four waiters in my ceremony. En had cake en rice en 'tatoe custard en a yearlin pig wid a red apple stuck in he mouth, so dey tell me. Dat what was for de refreshments. De old man Charles Reynolds, he was de preacher dere dat night en, say, he eat so much pig till you could see pig in he face, so dey tell me. Cose I never had no mind to know nothin 'bout it. Oh, yes Lord, I got seven chillun dat come here fore my old man die, but dey all done gone en get married en left me by myself. Dat how-come I stays over here wid Miss Bertie 'cause she ain' have nobody to stay wid her neither en I tries to help her out somehow. Yes'um, me en Miss Bertie does rest right well together, I say.

"Oh, great jumpin mercy, de shake! I sho knows all 'bout dat 'cause I was stayin right up dere to old man Elija Gregg's place den. I tellin you, it was a time, honey. I was gwine down side de road to prayer meetin dat night wid my baby in my arms en dere come such a roarin' en a rockin' in de elements till I thought my baby had got out my arms en I was just a hollerin for somebody to come en help me get my baby back. Been so crazy dat I was lookin in all de ditches for my baby. My husband, he come a runnin to see what ailed me en say, 'Agnes, what de matter wid you?' I say, 'My baby lost. Do Lord, whe' my baby gone?' He say, 'Agnes, you must be ailin in de head. Dere de baby on your arm.' Yes'um, I was crazy 'cause I had my baby in my arms en didn' know it. Oh, de people done a piece of hollerin dat night. Everybody was a hollerin en a prayin. I hear talk three or four of dem got converted in de spirit dat night. I tellin you, it been a long time fore I got over dat thing, too, 'cause I was scared most to death.

"No'um, I never didn' believe in nothin like dat. Never didn' believe in no conjurin. Don' care what dey say 'bout it, I never didn' believe in it. Yes'um, I hear people talk 'bout somebody had hurt dem, but dey make a wrong mistake to say somebody do somethin to dem. Ain' nobody but de Lord do nothin, I say. I know dere ain' nobody never do nothin to me. Hear people say dey wear money round dey ankle to keep folks from hurtin dem, but ain' nobody never bother me, I tell dem. If dey live right, ain' nobody gwine trouble dem neither. No, Lord, ain' nobody never speak no harm word to me en I ain' got no mind to harness up myself.

"Well, it just seems like de world growin wilder for de young folks. Dey don' never think 'bout nothin 'cept gwine right head first all de time. I know when I been comin up, I never see no such livin like de people makin dese days. Dey just gwine head over heels to de worser. Don' never think near a day dey got to stop some of dese days.

"I tell de truth, it ain' make no difference which time I think de best time to live in. Everything went well en good wid me in de old days en everything still gwine dat way, Thank de Lord, too."

Fred James

*Interview with Fred James (81)*
*Newberry, S.C. RFD*
--_G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C._

"Yes, I 'member slavery time and de war. I was about 7 or 8 years old. I belonged to Marse Tom Price. My father, John James, belonged to Madison Brooks and my mammy belonged to Tom Price. When dey married dey lived wid Madison Brooks awhile, but dey was wid Tom Price when I was a boy.

"Of cose I 'member de war. Us chaps, both niggers and white, was made to go up-stairs in de big house and look out de window to see de soldiers when dey come. We heard de Yankees marching befo' dey got dar, but dey come from de other side of de house, facing south towards Caldwells, and we didn't see dem marching in. Dey stopped at our house and looked around and asked if marster was at home. We told him dat he wasn't dar. We was eating apples, and dey asked us whar we got 'em. We told dem dat we got de apples on de place, and dey asked us for some. We give dem some apples; den dey left. Marse had carried his fine stock about a mile off in de woods so de soldiers couldn't find dem; but we didn't tell de soldiers.

"We lived in a little log cabin made wid mud between de logs, dat was de kind of houses Marse had for his slaves. We slept on wood beds wid ropes stretched tight across in place of slats. Dis held our straw mattress.

"My father's daddy come from Africa. His name was Emmanuel James. Atter freedom come he give me a little yearling. We wasn't allowed to have anything befo' freedom come; and we wasn't allowed to learn to read and write. Dey whipped us if dey caught us wid a book trying to read or write. Ma said dey cut off a hand if dey caught you.

"We raised hogs, sheep, goats, cows and plenty chickens; raised everything at home, and had a good garden with plenty vegetables. Dem cows and hogs and other cattle were branded and allowed to graze around in bottoms of de lowlands whar dar was no fence.

"My clothes was made from yarn spun by my mammy, and she made my clothes, too. Marse had my mammy to spin and weave for all de slaves on de place. But marse and mistress was good to us. He had a nigger overseer who sometimes brought a nigger to marse when he misbehaved; den marse would have de nigger overseer to whip him. He had 8 to 10 slaves all de time.

"Some slaves dat lived on places close to us would run off sometimes and hide in de woods, and live dar in a den which dey dug. At night they would go out and hunt food, like hogs; den kill 'em at night and dress 'em. Most of de day dey would stay in de den.

"I 'member when freedom come, old marse said, 'You is all free, but you can work on and make dis crop of corn and cotton; den I will divide up wid you when Christmas comes.' Dey all worked, and when Christmas come, marse told us we could get on and shuffle for ourselves, and he didn't give us anything. We had to steal corn out of de crib. We prized de ears out between de cracks and took dem home and parched dem. We would have to eat on dese for several days.

"We had to work, all day, sun up to dark, and never had Saturday afternoons off anytime. My mammy had to wash clothes on Saturday nights for us to wear on Sundays.

"We chaps played marbles most all de time. Marse used to try to scare us by telling us dar was spooks. Some of de old folks did believe in spooks, but I don't know much about dem. We never used much medicine den but quinine. Folks had lots of chills den, but dey never had any kind of strokes or things like dat as dey do dese days.

"We had to get a pass from marse if we went out. If de patrollers caught us widout a pass dey would whip us.

"Right atter de war de Ku Klux started. I 'member dem when dey would march up and down de road. Dey marched most at night, and we could hear de horses for a long distance as deir feet struck de ground.

"I married Nellie Wilson, and had 12 children. I got now 6 children; my wife is dead. I got five grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.

"I think Abraham Lincoln and Jeff Davis was good men in deir way, as dey thought. Booker T. Washington is a great man, and he is done lots of good for de niggers. I think slavery was good in some ways and bad in others. I was better off den dan I am now.

"I jined de church when I was 20 years old, because it was de law--to trust in de Lawd, you got to belong to de church.

"I member something 'bout 40 acres of land and a mule dat de slaves would get, but never come anything about it. When freedom come most of de slaves hired out as wage hands, cutting wood and working on farms or any odd jobs dey could get. Dar was lots of new ground, and many of de niggers got work clearing it up.

"We didn't get any money in slavery time, but got plenty to eat; and atter de war, we got a little money and a little to eat. I 'member dat old Mr. Brown hired me out once about 45 years ago at 30c a day and my meals. I think de younger generation ain't so good. Dey have deir own way and don't respect old folks. Dat's de way it is wid both whites and blacks."

Isiah Jeffries

*Interview with Isiah Jefferies, (age 86)*
*Gaffney, S.C. Rt. 6.*
--_Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C._

"I is what is known as a outside child. My Ma went to Hamlet. I lived on de Jefferies plantation, below Wilkinsville in Cherokee County. My father was Henry Jefferies. My mother was Jane Jefferies. My mother's husband was named Ned. Before her marriage she was a Davis. She was sold in slavery to Henry Jefferies. I allus lived with my mother, and Ned was as good to me as he was to his own chillun. My mother had three outside chilluns, and we each had a different father. Atter she married Ned; den he jest come to be our Pa, dat is he let her give us his name. She and Ned had four chillun.

"My first wife is dead and my second wife is named Alice Jefferies. I got one child by my first wife, and I ain't got no outside chilluns. Dat works out bad, at best. None of my folks is living. All of dem is done dead now; jest me, my wife and my sister's daughter, Emma, who is grown now. Her Pa and her Ma took and went crazy befo' dey died. Both of dem died in de asylum. We took Emma, and she ain't jest 'zactly right; but she ain't no bother to us.

"First thing I had to do as a child was to mind my Ma's other chilluns as I was de first outside one dat she had. Dis I did until I was about twelve years old. My Ma and Ned was working one day and I was minding her chilluns as usual when I looked up and seed de top of our house on fire. I hollered and dey come running from de field. De other hands come with dem kaise I made such a noise hollering. Soon de big folks got de fire out. Atter dat, Marse Henry had me to leave de house and go to work fer him.

"It was spring and I started in chopping cotton. 'Peers dat I got on pretty well, and dat de overseer liked me from de start. From dar on I was broke into field work of all kinds and den I did work around de lot as well. It was not long befo' everybody started calling me 'uncle Zery', why--I did not know; but anyway dat name still sticks to me by dem dat knows me well. My grandpa never called me dat, kaise I was named atter him, and he too proud of dat fact to call me any nickname. I stayed wid him at his house lots atter I started working fer de marster, kaise he showed me how to do things. I worked fer him to git my first money and he would give me a quarter fer a whole day's work. Dat made me feel good and I thought I was a man kaise I made a quarter. In dem days a quarter was a lot of money. I spent it fer chawing tobacco, and dat made me sick at first. Dats all men had to spend money fer in dem days. Everything was give you on de plantation and you did not need much money. Sometimes we cooked out in de field and I have cooked bread in de field in a lid.

"Ma teached me how to cook befo' I was twelve years old. We had good things to eat den; more dan my chilluns has dese times. All de slaves had dere gardens on my marster's plantation. He made dem do it, and dey liked it. Niggers do not seem to take no pains wid gardens now. Land ain't soft and mellow like it used to be. In cold weather we had to bank out 'taters, rutabegas, beets, carrots and pumpkins. De pumpkins and carrots was fer de hogs and cows.

"In warm weather we had cotton clothes and in cold weather we had woolen clothes dat our marster had made fer us by de old ladies on de plantation. But we did go barefooted all winter until we was grown and married. We had all de wood we wanted fer fire. We kept fire all day and all night. We sot by de fire in winter and popped corn, parched pinders [HW: peanuts] and roasted corn ears.

"Marster and Mistress had six chilluns. Her name was Ellen and her house was three stories high. Dere overseers allus lived wid dem. Dere was a lot of slaves and dey all loved de white folks. De whole plantation was allus up at sunup. But we did not work very late. I remember de Patter-rollers, de Ku Klux and de Yankees. Niggers dreaded all three. Dere was no jail fer us; de Patter-rollers kept us straight.

"When I got to be a big boy, my Ma got religion at de Camp meeting at El-Bethel. She shouted and sung fer three days, going all over de plantation and de neighboring ones, inviting her friends to come to see her baptized and shouting and praying fer dem. She went around to all de people dat she had done wrong and begged dere forgiveness. She sent fer dem dat had wronged her, and told dem dat she was born again and a new woman, and dat she would forgive dem. She wanted everybody dat was not saved to go up wid her.

"De white folks was baptized in de pool first, and den dere darkies. When de darkies time come, dey sung and shouted so loud dat de Patter-rollers come from somewhar, but Marster and Missus made dem go away and let us shout and rejoice to de fullest. Missus had all her darkies to wear white calico in de pool dat was a-gwine in fer baptizing. In de sewing-room she had calico robes made fer everybody. My Ma took me wid her to see her baptized, and I was so happy dat I sung and shouted wid her. All de niggers jined in singing. De white folks stayed and saw us baptize our folks, and dey liked our singing."

Thomas Jefferson

*Interview with Thomas Jefferson, 102 years old*
*Shiloh Church, Highway 29*
--_Ellie S. Rice, Anderson, S.C._

It is not often that a person 102 years old is seen doing manual labor, and especially as hard a job as picking cotton. Yet that is just what Thomas Jefferson was doing, who, as he himself stated, is, "102 years and 18 days old today." Asked why he was doing this, he replied, "Just to take a little exercise."

Thomas lives with his daughter, Florence Humphreys, on a small farm, out near Shiloh Church, on Highway 29. Until recently, he slept in a little shack nearby, taking his meals with his daughter. He is too feeble to live alone now, however.

Thomas Jefferson was born on the farm of Mr. Jenkins Hammond, on the old Hammond place, out on the Williamston road, on November 1, 1834. When Mr. Hammond's daughter, Mary Amanda Pauline, married Elias John Earle, son of Samuel Girard Earle, who was one of the very first citizens of Anderson county, Mr. Hammond gave her, as a wedding gift, Thomas Jefferson's mother and five children, of which Thomas was one. And here he lived with the Earles on "Evergreen" plantation, for many, many years.

During the War Between the States, Mr. Earle operated a corn and flour mill, and Thomas Jefferson was his miller. Asked if he remembered this, he replied, "Well, I do remember it. I remember one time we worked all night Saturday night, all day Sunday and Sunday night, and Monday morning had ten barrels of flour to send the Confederate army."

Shiloh (Baptist) Church, nearby, Thomas said, was being constructed at the time the war started, and was not finished until after the war was over. The first person buried in the Shiloh graveyard was Elijah Herring, who was in the Confederate army and became ill and died, and was brought home to be buried.

When Samuel Girard Earle died in 1848, and his wife in 1865, they were buried under a large apple tree at "Evergreen" plantation. Later, their bodies were removed to the Shiloh graveyard, by their grand-daughter, Miss Betty Earle. Thomas says he helped to move and rebury the bodies.

Thomas was at one time a member of Shiloh, but is now a member of the Mt. Sinai colored church.

Thomas is remarkably well for a person one hundred and two years old. His eyes are dim, his steps tottering, but his hearing is good and his mind is as clear as it ever was. Asked about his appetite, he said, "I eat anything I can get, I can eat anything." Many people much younger than he is, and certainly with more money than he has, would envy him for his splendid digestion.

Thomas has been on the relief rolls now for several years. It is a peculiar pleasure for Mrs. A.M. Mitchell, County Director of Temporary State Department of Public Welfare, to look after Thomas personally, because her grandmother was the bride to whom he was given, with his mother and brothers and sisters. The old man eagerly anticipates Mrs. Mitchell's coming each month, to bring his check and to look after his comfort. He is very humble and exceedingly grateful for everything done for him, and says he is expecting to live many more years, with the good care he is getting.

Henry D. Jenkins

*Interview with Henry D. Jenkins, 87 years old*
--_W.W. Dixon, Winnsboro, S.C._

Henry D. Jenkins lives in a four-room frame house, which he owns. His wife, two single daughters, his son and his son's wife and three small children live with him. The house is constructed on a tract of land containing four hundred and eighty (480) acres, which Henry also owns.

He does not suffer with an inferiority complex. He is self-reliant and thrifty, with a pardonable pride in his farm and his rise from slavery to a position of respectibility as a church member, citizen, and tax payer. He is well preserved physically, for his age, 87 years, alert in his movements and animated in conversation.

His plantation and home is in the south western part of Fairfield County, six or seven hundred yards east of State highway #215.

"Yes sir, tho' I am a 'spectable colored citizen, as you see me; I pays taxes and owns my own plantation. I was once a slave on de Reese place, in Sumter County, below Columbia. Just when I come to b'long to Mr. Joseph Howell, I don't know. I recollects dat Marse Joe had 'bout twenty families of slaves and dere was six hundred acres in his plantation.

"My mistress was his wife, Miss Sara. They had four chillun. Miss Mattie, married Oscar Chappell. Johnnie, married a Miss Lever. Thomas, married some lady in Columbia, disremember de fam'ly name. Miss Jessie, married Rev. Huggins, a Baptist preacher, though her folks wasn't of dat 'suasion; they was Methodist. Us niggers was 'structed early in 'ligion. Took to Cedar Creek and camp meetin'. My white folks had a fine carriage. A mulatto boy, Adam, was de driver. Sometime I'd go wid him to meet visitors from de low country at de station, and look after de baggage and sich.

"Yes sir, I doesn't deny it, I got many whuppins. Dere's not much to a boy, white or black, dat don't need a whuppin' sometime on de way up. When you break a wild spirited colt, they make de best hoss or mule. I can do more work today, than most of dese triflin', cigaret young mens. You sees me today, as straight as a arrow and like a wild cat on my foots.

"You bet yo' life, my white folks was de bestest in de land. They wasn't mealy mouthed; they made everybody work, sun to sun, seven days in de week. But didn't de good Lord set de 'zample? Yes sir, he made us all work, women in de perils of child birth, drapped cotton seed and corn kernels. Dr. Turnipseed, dat was our doctor, 'low dat light labor lak dat good for them.

"Farm hands got a peck of meal, three pounds bacon, quart of 'lasses, cup of salt, and two cups middlin' flour, no white flour. Had good warm clothes in winter, one-piece cotton suit in summer, and de little niggers went dressed in deir shirt tails from fust of June, to fust of October. They sho' did, and was as happy over it as de day was long.

"My mother named Emma. Never married to my daddy, 'cause they didn't live on de same place and b'long to same master. Daddy b'long to de Halls. I have a brother by dis same mammy. Daddy go by de name of Dinkins. He took up wid another woman after freedom, and my brother and me was 'shame of him. Us 'cided to take Jenkins for our name but keep a 'D' in de middle, so if anything come up, de 'D' could 'cite 'membrance of who us really is. You see what I mean?

"Our shoes for de winter was made on de place, out of leather from our own tan-yard and from our own cow hides. Marster had a good fish pond. He had a four-hoss gin, though mules pulled it. De lint cotton was packed in a bale and a screw pit. Baggin' was any old thing, like old sacks or canvas sheetin'.

"My mother jined de Baptis' church, and I followed in her foot steps. Everybody ought to b'long to some church, 'cause it's 'spectable, and membership in de church is both a fire and a life insurance. It 'sures you 'ginst hell fire, and gives you at death, an eternal estate in Hebben. What you laughin' at? It's de gospel truth I'm givin' you right now. Wish everybody could hear it and believe it.

"My marster, Joe Howell, went off to de old war. His niggers was so well trained, dat they carried on for him whilst he was gone and dere was no trouble. Everything went on just de same as if he was dere.

"Pat-a-rollers (patrollers) would come often and ketch niggers sometime; caught my daddy once and whup him good. Ours was a fine body of slaves and loyal to de mistress and her chillun.

"Dances? Yes sir, I can hear them fiddles and de pattin' now. Dis de way de dance was called: 'Balance all; sashshay to your partners; swing her 'round and promenade all; forward on de head; ladies change;' and all dat. Then de jigs went on. Believe me, them was times!

"The main drawback on Marster Joe's plantation was, de water on de place was no 'count. Us had to haul water on a sled, wid a mule, from de Friday place; dat's de onliest trouble us had. Sometime us had to tie up fodder and 'tend to de hay in de field on Sunday.

"I married fust a girl name Sarah, in 1878. Got three chillun by her. She died. Not good for a man to live alone, de Lord say. I picked out another Sarah, but called her Sallie. Us has had nine chillun. Three of dese [TR: are] Sailor, Tera, and Monroe. Monroe lives on my place and farms 'long side of me. Sam is in Detroit, Michigan; Henry in Flurida (Florida).

"When de Yankees come, what they do? They did them things they ought not to have done and they left undone de things they ought to have done. Yes, dat just 'bout tells it. One thing you might like to hear. Mistress got all de money, de silver, de gold and de jewels, and got de well digger to hide them in de bottom of de well. Them Yankees smart. When they got dere, they asked for de ve'y things at de bottom of de well. Mistress wouldn't tell. They held a court of 'quiry in de yard; called slaves up, one by one, good many. Must have been a Judas 'mongst us. Soon a Yankee was let down in de well, and all dat money, silver, gold, jewelry, watches, rings, brooches, knives and forks, butter-dishes, waters, goblets, and cups was took and carried 'way by a army dat seemed more concerned 'bout stealin', than they was 'bout de Holy War for de liberation of de poor African slave people. They took off all de hosses, sheeps, cows, chickens, and geese, took de seine and de fishes they caught, corn in crib, meat in smoke house, and everything. Marse General Sherman said war was hell. It sho' was. Mebbe it was hell for some of them Yankees when they come to die and give account of de deeds they done in Sumter and Richland Counties."

Maria Jenkins

*Interview with Maria Jenkins, about 90 years old*
*64 Montague Street, Charleston, S.C.*
--_Martha S. Pinckney, Charleston, S.C._

Maria Jenkins, who is about ninety, is very nearly blind, and only by quiet persistence can she be made to hear; once started, her mind is clear. She shows no bitterness. Occasionally there are flashes of humor. Her body is brawny, sturdy and well carried, considering her age.

Maria Jenkins was a daughter of Aaron Grant; her mother's name is Ellen Grant, all of whom were owned by Mr. Hugh Wilson of Wadmalaw Island.

"I b'long Wadmalaw. When de Yankee come I ole 'nuf for mind chillun, and take um to de field. I go up to Maussa' house ebery day for de milk for we; and dey give we clabba (clabber) and cow peas and ting out de garden. We git ebery evening a bushel ob corn grind and hand ober to de nurse, and him sift out de flour. Yes Mam. He done grind in de hand mill in de barn yard--de stone mill. Dat been uh big mill too. And dey gib we uh big piece ob meat--so--(measuring with hands) and sometime chicken. Rachel cook in de big pot for we chillun, and he dip um out. (She here explained the big ladle or dipper.) You know dem big ladle. We put um in we pan. Yes, Ma'am, he name Rachel, and he lick we. We haffa love um or she lick we." Her huge mouth was illumined by a humorous smile.

"He teach me to wash de baby clean and put on he dipa (diaper), and if I ain't do um good he konk my head. When de wah come, my pa put heself free off to New Orleans; I dunno how he look. I dunno if he libbin or dead now. My ma dead fust year ob de wah, I hab twelve chillun, and all dead; I got two grand chillun left--de one in New York--I raise him from baby atter he ma and pa dead."

"Your grand son helps you?"

"Wat dat?", leaning forward with her hand back of her ear. The question was repeated.

"Him ain't no man, him my grand daughter, Ellen Jenkins. I raise him from baby yes, she name Ellen. Him good to me; him help me ebery minute."

"Are all your people dead?"

"De whole nation dead," reflectively, "De whole nation dead--Peggy dead--Toby dead--all leaning on de Lord."

"When dem boat come up de ribber, and he shoot, and shoot, de big gun, dat been de awful time. My ma dead de fust year ob de wah--I dunno if dem big gun kill um. He kill 'nuf people.

"Maussa come and he say: 'Who-na (all of you) nigger take care ob yourself, I must leab to take my fambly away. Will is here; and de cow, and de pig in de pen, and de chicken all ober de place--I gib you your freedom for take care ob yourself.' W'en he gone, dem nigger break for the thick woods. Some dead and some ain't dead."

Later a camp was established for this plantation of Negroes, back in the pine woods. When asked what they did after the war, Maria raised her hands and said:

"After de wah we all come home, tank de Lord! tank de Lord!"

"But your master didn't have any money to care for you."

"Haffa scrabble for yo'self." Said she.

Paul Jenkins

*Interview with Paul Jenkins, 70 years old*
*18 Belser's Alley, Columbia, S.C.*
--_Stiles M. Scruggs, Columbia, S.C._

_SON OF A SLAVE TELLS OF HIS FATHER'S POLITICAL EXPERIENCES_

Paul Jenkins, age seventy, living at 18 Belser's Alley, Columbia, S.C., is a son of Paul Jenkins, a former slave, who decided to endure the burdens he had in Colleton County, South Carolina, after he was set free in 1865, rather than to fly to other places he knew nothing of. There he won the respect of the white folks and Negroes alike, was repeatedly elected to office, and lived there happily to the end of his life.

Here the present Paul Jenkins takes up the story, with:

"I was born in Colleton County in 1867. My daddy was in office when I begin to recall things, and he keep in office, by the will of the people, until I was nearly grown. My mammy, too, was a slave, when she and daddy marry. She die when I was 'bout twelve years old, and my only brother, Edgar, was goin' on ten. My daddy never marry again.

"One day some white men come to see daddy long after mammy was gone, and they say to daddy: 'Paul, when you gwine to jump the broomstick again?' My daddy was the only one who not laugh when they say that. He reply: 'I has no women in view and no weddin' dream in the back of my head. I has decided a wicked woman am a big bother and a good woman am a bore. To my way of thinkin', that is the only difference between them.' The white folks not smile, but say: 'You'll see! Just wait 'til the right girl come along.'

"Daddy just seem to make friends of all the people 'bout him, and our house, close to Smoak, was a big meetin' place most of the time. Sometimes the visitors are all white men. But at other days the niggers come and talk, tell funny tales, and laugh. Most of the meetin's at the house was late at night, 'cause my daddy always go to his office at Walterboro, on week days. People comin' and goin' there, all the time. Daddy was sho' popular with the people, generally speakin'.

"The biggest crowd I ever seen up to that time, was when General M.C. Butler come to Walterboro in 1882, to speak. He had been United States Senator since 1876, and was a candidate for re-election. General Butler much pleased, that day, when many white leaders and daddy call at his hotel and tell him that daddy had been asked by his neighbors to introduce him. He say: 'Well, from what I hears, Paul Jenkins can do that job as well as anybody in the State.' Then he pat daddy on the shoulder.

"At the speakin', daddy gets up, and the big crowd claps its hands for joy, and laughs, too. Daddy not laugh much, just smile. Then he throw back his shoulders and say:

General Butler, lak Moses, led us forth at last,
The barren wilderness he pass'd
Did on the very border stand
Of the bless'd Promise Land,
And from the misty mountain tops of his exalted wit,
Saw it himself and showed us it!