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Slavery
The real story
Most people have the idea that slavery in the South was comparable to the rule of the Nazis' during the 1930s & 40s'. Individuals, and organizations such as the racist NAACP try to compare the Southern Victorian plantation to Auschwitz, or Dachau. These myths and lies created by such people have no bases in fact, and only show the true nature of the speaker, or writer, i.e., a racist liberal. Now I am not saying that some slaves were not abused, that would be like saying there is no such thing as child abuse. On the other hand it is just as stupid to say that all slaves were half starved, down trodden, disease ridden, and half naked their entire existence. What many people fail, or just refuse to realize is that to own a slave was an investment. That’s right, "an investment"! Would you be willing to spend $12,000 on a tractor just to beat the hell out of it because you did not like the color! A slave could cost anywhere from $1,200 to $45,000 and usually the buyer had to pay in gold, paper money did not come into wide spread use until war. Now take into consideration that the average man earned less than $5.00 a week, and worked six to seven days a week.
The 1860 census shows that there was a little over eight million free people living in the Southern states, and that less than 5% of the entire Southern population owned slaves. Not two-thirds, one-half, one-third, or even one-quarter, but 5%! The records also show that 60% of the slave owners owned less than 20 slaves. Letters, and writings of the day show that these people lived, ate, worked, dressed, and worshipped right along with their slaves. In short the slaves were treated like family. This, in its’ self is proof enough to show why the South never had a slave uprising like in South America, and the Caribbean. The reason South America had a slave up rising is due to their treatment!
It is also a myth that the slave was separated from their families on a continual basses, and that they spent more time on the auction block than working. If this was the case than Mississippi, and Louisiana would not have had more than two thirds of America’s wealthy. These people obtained their money by farming, and proper care of their plantations, not by selling slaves. The slave trade was the business of the Yankee! The records show that most slave sales were performed for two reasons, bankruptcy, and the death of the master. It is not uncommon to see someone go into bankruptcy, and the sale of a dead masters slaves can be shown that the surviving family did not wish to continue the business. Nevertheless, when this happened almost all of the slaves were sold as a family group. The majority of the individual slave sales were performed on people who were in their twenties, and would have been at the age to leave the home anyway.
Well, the best way to show the truth of the life of an American slave is by giving you their own words. But I would first like to say that I do not support slavery in any shape or form, and I feel that everyone has the God given right to be free! The following several pages, and photos are taken from the "WPA Slave Narratives", from the Library of Congress , and are put down as I found them.
Tempe Herndon Durham, at the time of her interview, was living in Durham, North Carolina, and was interviewed by Travis Jordan. In her own words Ms. Durham says "I was thirty-one years ole when de surrender come. Dat makes me sho nuff ole. Near bout a hundred an’ three years done passed over dis here white head of mine."
"My white fo’ks lived in Chatham County, (North Carolina) Dey was Marse George an’ Mis’ Betsy Herndon. Mis Betsy was a Snipes befo’ she married Marse George. Dey had a big plantation an’ raised cawn, wheat, cotton an’ ‘bacca. I don’t know how many field niggers Marse George had, but he had a mess of dem, an’ he had hosses too, an’ cows, hogs an’ sheeps. He raised sheeps an’ sold de wool, an’ dey used de woll at de big house too."
Ms. Durham goes own to say how she learned the craft of weaving, and making cloth from her mistress, and other slaves that lived on the plantation.
"When I growed up I married Exter Durham. He belonged to Marse Snipes Durham who had de plantation ‘cross de county line in Orange County. We had a big weddin’ . We was married on de front po’ch of de big house. Marse George killed a shoat (could be goat) an’ Mis’ Betsy had Georgianna, de cook, to bake a big weddin’ cake all iced up white as snow wid a bride an’ groom standin’ in de middle holdin’ han’s. De table was set out in de yard under de trees, an’ you ain’t never seed de like of eats. All de niggers come to de feas’ an’ Marse George had a for everybody. Dat was some weddin’. I had on a white dress, white shoes an’ long while gloves dat come to my elbow, an’ Mis’ Betsy done made me a weddin’ veil out of a white net window curtain. When she played de weddin ma’ch on de piano, me’an Exter ma’ched down de walk an’ up on de po’ch to de altar Mis’ Betsy done fixed. Dat de pretties’altar I ever seed. Back ‘gainst de rose vine dat was full or red roses, Mis’ Betsy done put tables filled wid flowers an’ white candles. She spread down a bed sheet, a sho nuff linen sheet, for us to stan’ on, an’ dey was a white pillow to kneel down on. Exter done made me a weddin’ ring. He made it out of a big red button wid his pocket knife. He done cut it so roun’ an’ polished it so smooth dat it looked like a red satin ribbon tide ‘roun’ my finger. Dat sho was a pertty ring. I wore it’ bout fifty years, den it got so thin dat I lost it one day in de wash tub when I was washin’ clothes.
Uncle Edmond Kirby married us. He was de nigger preacher dat preached at de plantation church. After Uncle Edmond said de las’ words over me an’ Exter, Marse George got to have his little fun: He say, ‘Come on, Exter, you an’ Tempie got to jump over de broom stick backwards; you got to do dat to see which one gwine be boss of your househol’. Everybody come stan’ ‘roun to watch. Marse George hold de broom ‘bout a foot high off de floor. De one dat jump over it backwards an’ never touch de handle, gwine boss de house, an’ if bof of dem jump over widout touchin’ it, dey won’t gwine be no bossin’, dey jus’ gwine be ‘genial. I jumped fus’, an’ you ought to seed me. I sailed right over dat broom stick as a cricket, but when Exter jump he done had a big dram an’ his feets was so big an’ clumsy dat dey got all tangled up in dat broom an’ he fell head long. Marse George he laugh an’ laugh, an’ tole Exter he gwine be bossed ‘twell he skeered to speak less’n I tole him to speak. After de weddin we went down to de cabin Mis’ Betsy done all dressed up, but Exter could’ stay no longer den dat night kaze he belonged to Marse Snipes Durham an’ he had to go back home. He lef’ de nex day for his plantation, but he come back every Saturday night an’ stay ‘twell Sunday night. We had eleven chillun. Nine was bawn befo’ surrender an’ two after we was set free. So I had two chillun dat wuzn’ bawn in bondage. I was worth a heap to Marse George kaze I had so many chillun. De more chillun a slave had de more dey was worth. Lucy Carter was de only nigger on de plantation dat had more chillun den I had. She had twelve, but her chillun was sickly an’ mine was muley strong an’ healthy. Dey never was sick.
When de war come Marse George was too ole to go, but young Marse Bill went. He went an’ took my brother Sim wid him. Marse Bill took Sim along his hoss an’ everything. Dey didn’ neither one get shot, but Mis’ Betsy was skeered near ‘bout to death all de time, skeered dey was gwine be brung home shot all to pieces like some of de sojers was."
Ms. Durham goes on to say that the "Yankees wuzn’ so bad," and talks about how they would always eat up everything. She also says that she and the other slaves never went hungry because "Marse George" kept the plantation running. She also states that after the war when their neighbors had nothing to eat her former master gave what food he had to help them. After the war Exter moved in with her, and helped Master George work the farm. He also gave Exter some land for his own.
"Freedom is all right, but niggers was better off befo’ surrender, kaze den dey was looked after an’ dey didn’ get in no trouble fightin’ an’ killin’ like dey do dese days. If a nigger cut up an’ got sassy in slavery times, his Ols Marse give him a good whippin’ an’ he went way back an’ set down an’ ‘haved hese’f. If he was sick, Marse an’ Mistis looked after him, an’ if he needed store medicine, it was bought an’ give to him; he didn’ have to pay nothin’. Dey didn’ even have to think ‘bout clothes nor nothin’ like dat, dey was wove an’ made an’ given to dem. Maybe everybody’s Marse and Mistis wuzn’ good as Marse George and Mis’ Betsy, but dey was de same as mammy an’ pappy to us niggers."
Despite what the liberal trash of today attempt to promote, not all slaves were black, nor were all slave owners white. This next interview is of Ms. Della Mun Bibles, and was conducted by Mrs. Ada Davis in McLennan County, Texas. No age, or date was given.
"My Mammy was a white woman. Her daddy and mammy were pore folks and they took sick and died and left her a little baby. Old Man Snell back in Missouri took er and put hor on the yard with the other children. She was given to the chrage of a black slave and raised as a Snell slave. When she was about fourteen, Marse Snell, he married her to a full blood Indian that he had on the place, named Ephram Snell. He was Marse Snell’s slave as the negroes, but I never knew how or why. Now, that’s the tale about mammy that Old Man Snell told. But my black grand mother what raised my Mammy, she said that my Mammy belonged to a niece of Old Man Snell and that she was not married right like the white folks always did. And that Old Man Snell took Mammy and raised up that way and sent his niece up north to hide the disreace. Any way my Mammy was a sure enough white woman and my daddy a full blooded Indian daddy. And there was sister Sally, Dania, Emma and Pearlie. We were all slaves. I was next to the baby."
Ms Bibles goes on to say how the war never touched them, and that they never saw any soldiers. She says that she was about eight years old when the war came to an end, and that she married Gilbert Bibles, and that they lived in the negro town in Valley Mills. Her husbands family owned a saw mill, and several farms.
"One time, a group of white settlers were hunting on the Middle Bosque and heard some man singing loudly. As they went up the creek, the singer drew nearer. Finally a huge man looked to be almost a full blooded Indian came in sight. He was riding horse back and had his trousers full of grapes and his shirt across the back of his saddle while he was entirely nude. It was said, in later years, as the country settled up, that the settlers wives were afraid to ride to each others farms because of old man Bibles’ (Ms. Bibles father-in-law) habit of using his clothing to carry whatever he found in the woods and wanted. If he would sing all the time, they would at least be warned, but he said that he had settled in the country first, and the others could look after themselves. This habit of his and the fact that he treated his slaves as equals with himself made him somewhat of an outlaw."
Maria Jackson was interviewed by Ed Cune on December 13, 1938. Although she was only a baby when slavery was brought to an end she does give incite into how people lived during the so-called ‘Reconstruction."
I was borned’ way down in Alabamy, and dat was 79 years ago last March, at dat place named Noda-Suga (Notasugla). My daddy was borned and raised right hyar in Georhy, down in Oglethorpe County at the old Dr. Hutchin’s place. Chile dey named a little town in Oglethorpe for Mr. Hutchins and dey sho was good whitefolks. His wife was named Miss Mary Jane Hutchins, and dat sho was one good ‘omen in dis world.
My daddy was named Jim Neely, and he came all the way to Alabamy to marry my mammy. Her name was Rose Nelly, and he stayed on in Alabamy ‘til long atter the War was over."
Ms. Jackson goes on to say that her grandfather sent a wagon for them, and brought the family to George. She than describes her life in that state.
"Yes, mam, dey had schools back then, it warn’t on our place, but hit won’t so fer ‘way’ cause schools was in what they call "Nelly Town." Yes, chile dar was so many of them Nelly folks ‘round thar dat it was just called Nelly [sic] Town. Many sont some of the young chillun to the school, but I ain’t never went to no schoolhouse a day in all my borned days. I don’t know nothin about dese ABC’s but you sho’ can’t fool me when it comes to countin ‘cause I kin sho do dat, don’t nobody beat Maria out ‘er nothin,’ but the chillun larn’t right well in school. Us other chillun had’er help Daddy in the field. Us wuked hard, but us had a good living, plenny teat and place to stay, clothes, and everythin’ us needed.
Yes, mam, when I got married to Tom Jackson, I sho did have smart weddin’. My Daddy seed to dat. Hit was just one of dem old country time weddin’s. Daddy didn’t ‘vite so powerful many folks, hit was a nice weddin’ right on. I don’t ‘member just what color my dress was, but it was a light-dotted one and was thin cloth. I just can’t ‘member what dey called it.
Us sho’ had a big supper, mostest good things teat, had a ahole hog cooked, but no dancin’. Why chile, I ain’t never danced one of dem sets in all my life, and sho’ don’t ‘spects to now at my age ‘cause I’se to stiff an’ no ‘count. I never had no time fer dancin’. I wuked hard and tried to tuck care of what us made. . . .
Tom wuked and I wuked, and my white folks has sho’ been good to me. I just don’t know what I would do if it warn’t fer dem. I sho did have a good husband. He went to wuk at the Holman building, and he made fifteen dollars a week, and every Sadday night he brought every penny of dat money stright home, and laid it in my lap. I would ask him how much he wanted and he always said fifty cents, and Chile what does you think he done wid fifty cents, not a blessed thing ‘cepting but my snuff wid it, dats right.
I wuked fer my white folks in the house and washing to. I tuck care of what us made and tried to have somethin’. Dese others say, Miss Jackson, how do you do so well, how come you have so much, ‘cause us always had plenny teat, good clothes to wear, and good home. But Chile, dey didn’t wuk lak us did, didn’t took care of what dey made. My chilluns wuked to, and white folks said us was all good to wuk, and day has been good to me since I can’t wuk no mo’, some of dem is always sendin’ me somethin’."
This next document was found on the "University of Missouri-St. Louis" wed sight. The person who conducted the interview was not listed, but is presented here as I found it. Mr. William Black was living at 919 South Arch St., Hannibal, Missouri at the time of the interview and reported his age, at the time, as eighty-five. Mr. Black was also reported as being "one of the few ex-slaves living in Marion County."
"My mother and father came from Virginia. I don’t know how old I am, but I have had one birthday and the rest anniversaries." (All most every person born before the 1920s really do not know their date of birth, or age. So before you go around shouting that Blacks were repressed from knowing there birth date take a look at everyone else from that era!) I think I am about eighty-five years old. I was born in slavery and when I was eight years old was bonded out to Mr. Sam Briggs of New London. Mr. Briggs was a good master and I had little to do. My duty was to take his children to school and go after them in the evening. In the mean time I just piddled around in de fields.
In the evenings when the work was all done we would sit around and play marbles and sing songs. We made our songs up as we went along. Sometimes there would be a corn shucking and that is when we had a good time, but we always shucked a lot of that corn."
Mr. Black goes on to say how his former master surprised his slaves having a party, and joined them. He also talks about other work that he performed. He also talks about the War, and states "Durin’ de war we could not leave our master’s house to go to the neighbors without a pass. If we don’t have a pass the paddyrollers (Yankees) would get us and kill us or take us away."
"I am glad that we have our churches and schools. We don’t have any business being with the good white people. They are cultured and we are not, but some day we will be as good and they will be glad to have us around them more. Just because we are black is no sign that we aren’t good niggers. "I don’t like the way the younger generation is doin’. As my neighbors say, ‘the devil is getting them and it won’t be long before he will come and get them all.’ When I was young we didn’t act like they do now-a-days. We didn’t get drunk and stay that way and kill each other. The good Lord is going to do something to all of them. Mark my words."
Ms. Kate Betters was living at McLennan County Texas at the time of her interview, October 2, 1937. The auther’s name is not given.
"I wuz born back in ole Mississ (Mississippi) in de year of 1848. Ize gwine to be 87 years ole come dis harves’ time. My daddy wuz Young Wright and mammy wuz Almira Wright. Mammy jes had us two gals, me an’ Sis Emily. Us had Marse Berry Wright fer our boss and Mistis Lina Wight wuz his wife an owned us too. I jes don’t recall no granpas but guess I mus a-had ‘em case odder folks did. Me an Emily an ma, us worked in de house an us didn’t know nuffin’ bout dem quarter niggers. Ole Mistis kep us all strached an clean an learned us, all of us, mammy an all to read an write an made us read an study de good book. Oh, she raised us right proper. Oh yassum, I hoped make candles, carded wook, spun cotton an wool into thread an effen I does say it, I was a master hand when it come to weavin an sewing close fer white an colored. . . .
Time ob a big ball, us’d cook fer days an hab a great long table dat wuz sot an fixed all purty aby early mornin de day ob de festivities an dat table nebber wuz empty twell late de next day. . . ."
Ms Betters than goes on to describe her work around the house, and how she use to dye cloth to make clothing for every one on the plantation. She also talks about a party that was thrown by the slaves for them selves.
"On Chrismus us niggers had a dance. Hit wuz down in de washhouse an’ de table wuz set in de carpenter shop jes by. Oh, hit sutten’ly wuz beautiful. Mistis had suptrenten’ eberything wid her own hands. So, she wuz down dere wid an apron up to her chin an dere wuz de big lamps from de big house, two ob ‘em on each table an some of de table cloths from de big house an ole Master’s bowl full ob egg-nog wif snow drift on top ob hit, an pretty dishes from de big house an some cheers. Nuttin warn’t too good fer niggers dat night. De little yung’uns wuz runnin roun’ almos’ ‘stracted, squealin an squirmin’ an under foots so a-body couldn’t walk. An dere wuz a big fire like a butcherin time.
De fiddlers got dey dram an tuned up lively. Niggers wuz as thick as blackbirds in a corn crib an de gals wuz shakin dey foots fer some young man an buck an back steppin fer to go ‘long. De sleepers ob dat house wuz a-rockin as de fiddler called de niggers fer de dance. Den all de white folks wid master in de lead come in to ‘spec de tables an dey all fill up dey glasses an pledge dey health on all de servants, an wish every body a Merry Chrismus an de white folks went in de wash house to see de dancin an foll de debbil too. Dem niggers danced ‘twill you couldn’ tell which wuz de clappers an which de back steppers, but when somebody say supper dat stop em."
Charity Anderson lived in Mobile Alabama, and was interviewed by Ila B. Prine from the Federal Writers’ Project, Dist. 2, on April 16, 1937. "Aunt Charity Anderson who claims to be one hundred and one years old (101) was born at Belle’s Landing, Monroe County, Alabama. Her white "Master" was Mr. Leslie Johnson who kept a public wood yard at Belle’s Landing on the Alabama River. Aunt Charity now lives on St. Stephens Road, about one mile and a half north of Toulminville, a suburb of Mobile, Ala. She lives with a niece, in a very comfortable and modern four-room house."
"Missy, peoples don’t live now, and niggers ain’t got no manners. . . .I kin remember de days when I was one of de house servents. Dere was six of us in de ol’ marster’s house, me, Sarai, Lou, Hester, Jerry and Joe. Us didn’t know nothin’ but good times den. My job was lookin’ a’ter de corner table whar nothin’ but de desserts sat. Jo and Jerry were de table boys, and dey ne’ber touched nothin’ wid dere hans’, dey used de waiter to pass things wid. My! Dem was good ol’days.
My old Marster was a good man, he treated all his slaves kind, and took care of dem, he wanted to leave dem hisn chillun. It sho’ was hard for us older uns to keep de little cullered chillun out ob de dinin’ room whar ol master ate, cause when dey would slip in and stan’ by his cheer, when he finished eatin’ he would fix a plate and gib dem and dey would set on de hearth and eat."
Ms. Anderson states that she did see a few slaves whipped, but not by her Master. This is as I said before, you can not accuse all for the crimes of a few!
". . .But thank God I had good white folks, dey sho’ did trus’ me to, I had charge of all de keys in the house and I waited on de Missy and de chillun. . . .And as for working in the field, my marster neber planted no cotton, I neber seed no cotton planted til’ a’ter I was free.
But listen, honey, I sho’ could wash, iron, knit and weave, bless yuh, I could finish my days’ work aroun’ de house, and den weave six or seven yards o’cloth. I’se washed, ironed and waited on de fourth generation ob dis family. I l’arned de chillun how to wash, iron, weave, and knit. I jes wiah I could tell dese young chillun how to do, if they would only suffer me to talk to dem, I’d tell dem to be more ‘spectful to dere mammas, and to dere white folks and say ‘yes mam’ an ‘no mam’, instid of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ lack dey do now.
I ain’t neber been in no tr’uble in mah life, I ain’t been in no lawsuits, I ain’t neber been no witness. I neber had seen a show in my life ‘til jes dis pas’ year, when a show, wid swings, lights, and all de doings dey have stop’ in front ob our house har.
I’se allus tried to treat eberybody as good as I kin, and I uses mu manners as good as I knows how, and de Lord sho’ has taken keer ob me. Why, when my house burnt up, de white folks helped me so dat in no time you could’nt tell i had ebber los’ a thing.
But honey, de good ol’ days is don’ gone forebber. Bless you when we lib at Johnson’s Landing on de river, folks would come dere to catch de steamboats, and we neber knowed how many to put on breakfas, dinner, or supper fo’ cause sometimes de boats would be a little behin’ times and sometimes a little before times and we allus had a house full. And as for paying my fare on de boats, I neber had dat to do, when ole Captain John Quill wars livin’ he allus lowed me to ride his boat fo’ nothin anywhere I wanted to go. But what’s the use thinking about dem times, dey’s gone, and de world is ‘gettin’ wicked’er, sin is bolder and bolder, and religion grows colder and colder."
This next Narrative that I found was written by Bernard Hinkle. On June 1, 1937 Mr. Hinkle interview John A. Holt, unfortunately Mr. Hinkle was more interested in writing John Holt’s story as a news paper article than recording the man’s own words. So the following is as I found it.
"John A. Holt, ex-slave, and fighter of Civil War days (Confederate, not Yankee, ), is still very much alive, up-to-date, and, while showing signs of his 91 years, is still mantally vigorous.
He was born in slavery at Fayettesville, (Washington County,) Arkansas, October 16, 1847. At the time of his birth he was living with his mother Polly Warmack’s place, who owned his mother and him. John Holt, his father, was owned and lived with a family named Holt -- hence his own name. His mother and father were legally united at the time, but after the war was over, they were remarried, according to a new law then put into effect regarding ex-slaves.
Mrs. Warmack’s brother, one Carol Cleary was hung by the Union soldiers during the Civil War, but on that hangs an interesting tale, in which John A. Holt was an unwitting instrument.
One day, at the very beginning of the Civil War, John Holt and another Negro boy were cutting weed in a grove, near the edge of the farm, when they heard the thump, thump of many horses approaching, and presently, with a startled glance, the two badly frightened Negro boys found themselves face to face with the first contingent of Union soldiers, on their way south. Under threat of capturing all the Negro boys in the neighborhood and selling them to Cuba, to pay the war debt, the Union officers sternly questioned Holt and his companion concerning the disposotion of all the older slaves, who seemed to have been spirited away. Holt said: "I was too young to know how to lie good, so I up and tells them fierce looking ‘bluecoats’ dat "marse Cleary’ had done taken ‘em all south fer pertection from dem."
It is a little known fact that the Yankee scum would capture Black men and use them for "Cannon Fodder," and the women as prostitutes!
"Enlistment at the time was for only one year, so, one year later, when Carol Cleary, Mrs. Warmack’s brother, returned from the South, the Union soldiers picked him up and hung him."
Here we have the classic case of the true nature of the Yankee scum. Carol Cleary was no longer in the army. The reason he returned home is not certain, but it is most likely that he had enough of the war, and did not wish to re-enlist. It also appears that this innocent boy was murdered by these trash because the slaves were all moved to keep them from being used as "Cannon Fodder."
Mr. Fred Forbes was interviewed on December 14, 1938 by Albert Burks. At the time of the interview Mr. Forbes lived at 717 C Street, Lincoln, Nebraska.
"I’m seventy-two years old and was born in slavery, my mother said my daddy marched with his master with the Confederate army and both were killed. We stayed on at the farm after emancipation because the mistress had always been good to us and she was’ very poor after the war and needed us.
We’ve went out in the woods a many a time to bag quail, squirrels, possums and coons, because if we didn’t there wouldn’t be nothing to eat even at the big house of the mistress.
Mama was kind of a doctor and she went many times to assist in child-birth and other sicknesses.
Our mistress let us hold church at the colored quarters of her plantation and there was sure some big gathering. The preacher didn’t charge in those days but we would have to feed them and give them a place to stay while they with us.
My mother had a special medicine for sore throats and colds that was used far and near. It consisted of the roots of wild lettuce, cider beans, the sap from maple trees, castor beans, and turpentine. It was made into liquid and was a sure cure. As near as I can I make the same stuff when I get sick."
This next narrative was only a few lines, and none was in the words of the person that Mabel E. Mueller interviewed. Nelson Danforth was 85 years old at the time, and Ms. Mueller describes his life as is shown below.
"He was born on the farm of Erskine Danforth, east of Springfield, and belonged to him. His father and mother had come with the Danforths from Tennessee in the 1830's to Greene County (Missouri). While his mother was a slave, his father was not a slave, but was the son of a full-blooded Cherokee Indian and a white mother. His name was Donahue. He came along with the Danforths to Greene County, lived on Erskine Danforth’s land, but did little work for him, and that only when he felt like it, but supported himself by making baskets, chairs, etc., and by hunting, which was his main occupation. He built himself a cabin and lived there with Nelson Danforth’s mother, and their children. Erskine Danforth was much beloved by his slaves, because he was kind and considerate to them, and it was for this reason the Nelson took his name, instead of Donahue. When he heard of a slave somewhere around the neighborhood being mistreated, Erskine would buy him, and bring him to his place.
Oftentimes, slaves would take the name of someone besides their owner, if they did not like him.
Nelson remembers Erskine Danforth as a tall man, resembling in form and feature Abraham Lincoln. He was not a well educated as his brothers, but was a constant reader of the Bible, which he read aloud as well. He was a good business man, as farmer and stock-trader. He died just before the war commenced."
The next so-called narrative that I found was really a news paper article written for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch on January 18, 1937.
"George Washington Brooks, a Negro, who was born in slavery 83 years ago, and who died of infirmities Thursday, at the home of Mrs. Herman A. Jensen, 4130 Lafayette Avenue; great-granddaughter of his first owner, the late Capt. James Brooks, of Jefferson County, was buried yesterday at French Village, St. Francois County, where he was freed at the start of the Civil War.
When he was 7 years old Brooks was given as a wedding present to Mrs. Luella Brooks Au Buchon, of French Village. After she freed him he remained as a paid servant. He helped rear her six children and became known in the community as "the shepherd of the flock."
On one occasion during the war, George Brooks, then 9 years old, rode a horse from French Village to Brooks Place, in Jefferson County, through woods in which guerillas (Yankees) were reported, with $1,000 in gold hidden in his boots. Later, when (Yankee) troops were approaching French Village, he buried family valuables in the orchard and helped Mrs. Au Buchon to conceal her personal jewelry in a ball of yarn. Soldiers ransacked the house and threw the ball of yarn across a room, cracking a mosaic pin, now an heirloom. George had been at the Jensen home four years."
Miss Effie Cowan was living in McLeannan County, Texas at the time of her interview and gives her age as 90 years. The date of the interview was not on the document that I found, but like most of the interviews done in Texas it must have been around 1937.
"My daddy an mammy’s names wuz Henry and Zilphy Guest, dey wuz slaves of Matin Fullbright who brung dem from Missouri ter de state of Texas befo’ freedom an settled in Red River County, near de town of Clarksville. My great grand-dad and gran-mammy cum from Nerth Carlina ter Missouri wid dar Marster befo’ de war.
I wuz one of eight chillun born while dey wid Mr. Fullbright I wuz born in eighteen-hundred and fourty-four an I’se nintey three years ole. My folks stayed wid dar Marster, Mr. Fullbright until dey raised our fambly an den went te dar reward whar dey die no mo’.
Befo’ freedom de soljers pass by our house, befo’ de Yankees an de Rebels, an dey mos’allers stop an ask my mammy ter cook dem someting ter eat. W’en de Yankees stop we chillun would hide.
Once two men cum’s an stay at de Master’s two or three weeks an jes look ‘roun, pretend dey is goin’ ter but lan’ but w’en de white folks gits ‘spicious den dey leaves right sudden an hit turns out dat dey is Yankee spies, day never wuz heard of no mo’."
Mary Armstrong was 91 years old at the time of her interview, and was living in Houston Texas. I do not have all of the pages to this interview, but I will share with you what I have.
"I’se Aunt Mary all right, but you all has to ‘scuse me if I don’t talk so good ‘cause I has been feelin’ potly for a spell an’ I ain’t so young no more. Law me, when I think back what I used to do, an’ now it’s all I can do to hobble ‘round a little. Why Mis’ Olivia, my mistress, used to put a glass plumb full of water on my head, an’ then have me waltz ‘round the room, an’ I would dance so smooth like, I don’t spill nary drop. "That was in St. Louis whar I was born. You see when I was born, my mamma belong to old Wm. Cleveland an’ old Polly Cleveland. . . .
"Mis’ Olivia had took a likin’ to me an’, ‘though her ma an pa was so mean, she was kind to everyone, an’ everyone jes’ love her. So she gets married to Mr. Will Adams what was a fine man an’ had ‘bout five farms an’ ‘bout 500 slaves, an’ he bought me for her from old Cleveland an’ pay him twenty five hundred dollars an’ gives him George Henry a nigger to boot. . . .
We don’t live on the farm, but we live in St Louis on Chinkapin Hill, an’ I was house girl for Mis’ Olivia, an’ when the babies start comin’ I bursed ‘em an’ when they was asleep, I spin thread for clothes on a loom. I spin 6 cuts of thread a week, but I has plenty of time for my self, too. That is whar I learn to dance so good. Law, I sure jes’ crazy ‘bout dancin’. If I settin’ down eatin’ my victuals an’ hear a fiddle play, I get up an’ dance.
"Yes suh, Mr, Will an’ Mis’ Olivia sure was good to me. An’ I never call Mr. Will "Massa" neither. No, suh, he wouldn’t let me ‘cause he was a good man. When they was company I call him ‘Mr. Will’ an her, ‘Mis Olivia’, but ‘round the house by ourselves, I calls them ‘pappy’ an ‘mammy’, ‘cause they raised me up from a little girl.
This next "Slave Narrative" was written by John L. Dove for the Life History Writer’s Project of South Carolina. The date on the document was February 15, 1939. Mr. Dove interviewed Jim Kelley, but for some unknown reason Mr. Dove gave Jim Kelley the fictitious name of Ham Cloud, or just "Uncle Ham." Mr. Dove was brought to Mr. Kelley by a woman named Miss. Alice, and it seams that Miss. Alice asked the questions, while he wrote everything down.
"Uncle Ham, is there anything to cause you trouble this morning?"
"Miss Aloce, I was jes’ thinkin’ ‘bout all de trouble dat am caused at dis place by de debil and ge wars."
"You think this war is the work of the Devil, Uncle Ham?"
"Yes, ma’am, Miss Alice, I ‘lows dis war bizness am de work of de debil. It sho is, caze I members de time when Marse Ben hafter give up his three boys to go to war. He say then de war am de work of de debil. And when Gin’al Sherman and he sojers come here, what dey couldn’t carry off dey destroy. I’s worried ‘bout my two boys what lef’ here yestiddy for de war, for dey tells me dem Germans ain’t nebber seed a nigger."
"I members all about it, Miss Alice. When us heard through some of Gin’al Wade Hampton’s sojers dat de Yankees had done burnt Columby and was marchin’ on to de north, stealin’ and burnin’ as dey go, me and Marse Ben got busy. I hope him to hide de things on de place out in de woods and fields."
"What happened then, Uncle Ham?"
"Lawd, hab mercy! Jes’ a whole passel o’ Yankees pass here. I was standin’ in dis walk one day when a crowd of dem stop, and one axe me whar Marse Ben and all de folks. I say to him. "I dunno; I jes’ one o’ de free niggers lef’ to stay in our house and look after our things." Ham was then just a pickaninny twelve years old. But he was faithful, and he had diplomacy enough to save the Cloud family from loss."
The rest of the document is no longer in Mr. Kelley’s own words, but it tells how after "Marse Ben" passed away he stayed on at the old plantation to help the son. Mr. Kelley stayed with the so-called Cloud family for the rest of his life, although he did marry and have about eight children. Mr. Kelley helped the "Cloud" family, and was helped by them in return. Jim Kelley passed away and is buried at Shad Grove, only a short distance from Zion, where Marse Ben, and Marse Fayette, (Ben’s son) now rest.
Hannah Allen was interviewed in Fredericktown Missouri, by J. Tom Miles. According to Mr. Miles "Aunt Hannah, to date, is by far the oldest ex-slave that this writer has interviewed. She claims to be 107 years old, having been born on December 24th, 1830. When she made application for a marriage licence in Fredericktown in 1912, she gave her age then as 82, according to the Madison County Recorder of Deeds. Since she receives an Old Age Pension further proof is being made to verify her age through the Old Age Assistance Office in Fredericktown."
The majority of this interview is in Mr. Miles own words, and is not written as "Aunt Hannah" told her tail, with the exception of a few paragraphs.
"The ole white mistress would sing and pray while she washed dishes, milked the cows and made biscuits. So they called the doctor and the doctor come and said that God had got hold of her.
One of the darkies had a baby out in the field about eleven o’clock one morning, The doctor came out there to her. She was sick a long time cause she got too hot before the child was born. After this happened the boss got to be a better man. This ole boss at first would not let the darkies have any church meetings.
On Sunday there at home the colored folks could get all the water that ran from the maple trees (a stream). The slaves would get through their work for the boss and then there would sometimes be three days when they could work for themselves. Then they would get paid for working for others and then but clothes. . .They had the finest boots.
I was paid nothin’ after slavery but just stayed with the boss and they gave me things like a calf, clothes, and I got to go to church with them and to camp meetings and picnics. They would have big basket meetings with pies, hogs, sheep etc. They did not allow me to go with other colored girls if they had no character. We all set down and ate at the same table with the white folks and tended the sick together. Today if the parents would make their children do like they did in slavery, then we would have a better race. I was better off than the free people. I think that slavery taught me a lot. . ."
Some of the colored folks are better off today and some are worse. The young race says we who was slaves are ten times worse off than they cause we had bosses and couldn’t read or write. But I say the young race has got all this to go by and they ought to be much better off than they are. We are better off in one sense than the young race cause about half of them don’t know how to raise their children and they don’t know how to do nothing. I think our folks have just a good a chance now as the white folks but they don’t get cultivated. They say today that I don’t know nothing cause I was a slave and all I learned was what the marster told me. But I know enough to keep out of devilment. I think all this speed shows that people ain’t got no sense."
And every one says "AMEN!"
