Part 16

"I learnt myself how to read. My pa brought a Bible from de war. I has dat and I reads it. My pa got shot comin' from Mississippi. Marse Sanders hear about it and he sont and brung him home. Den us lived 15 miles from Chester on Broad River. My pappy was named Henry Dorsey. When he was young, he was Marse Sander's butler boy. He got well from de shot. Den de Ku Klux got him for something. I ain't never knowed what. I don't know what dey done when I was a baby.

"I'se nussed since I was a little gal. My ma made me make teas to cure folks' colds and ailments. She made me fetch her water and towels and other things while she wait on de sick folks. Dat's de way I was broke into nussing. Nineteen-eighteen laid out folks at Monarch. I started right after breakfas' wid two dollars. Git home at night with narry a penny. Git folks soup and milk. Everybody dat didn't get sick worked hard. De folks died anyway like flies. De Lawd give me strength to stand up through de whole time. When de flu pass on and de folks get well, den dey pay me for my services.

"Millie Nash, Andy's wife, she look atter me since I'se got ole. She gooder to me dan anybody I know, but at de same time, she's aggravation to me kaise she drink likker. Millie sho does git drunk, but I keeps on prayin' fer her. Dis mawnin she's gwine to a funeral. She was poling 'long 'hind me and drapped her pocketbook. When us git ready to go into de church, she stopped and grabbed hol' of me and say, 'Lina, whar my pocketbook?' I looks at her and say, 'Nigger, how does I know whar'bouts you throw dat thing down? You stayed 'hind me all de way from de ice house. Didn't I tell you to let dat dram alone befo' you left de house?' I sot down in front of de church and Millie turned around and went down de street toward de ice house. She seed her pocketbook where she drapped it, 'bout half way twixt de ice house and de church. When she come 'long whar I was sitting, I 'lowed to her dat I'se gwine up to de relief office. I lef' her and here I is. Won't be long befo' Millie be here, too. De funeral done marched on when Millie got back to de church."

Amy Perry

*Interview with Amy Perry (82)* --_Jessie A. Butler, Charleston, S.C._

Amy (Chavis) Perry is eighty-two years old. She is strong for her age and lives alone in an old building at the rear of 21 Pitt street where she supports herself by taking in washing. She is a self-respecting old negress, with a reputation for honesty among the "white folks" whom she considers her friends.

Amy has two names, "like de people in doze times"--Amy Rebecca. She "adopted the Rebecca." Her father was John Minser Chavis, a slave in the McClure family, who, she claims, lived to be 116 years old, and "who wukked up to de las'," and Sarah (Thompson) Chavis, who belonged to Mrs. William Keller, an ancestor of the Cogswell family of Charleston. Amy says she was given to Miss Julia Cogswell as a "daily gift," Miss Julia having been a child at the same time that she was. In reply to a few leading questions Amy gave the following story.

"We is live in de country, near Orangeburg, and I remembers berry little 'bout de war and de time befo' de war. You see I bin berry little, I bin only seben year old. Some ole people mek out like dey remembers a lot ob t'ings." Here she gave the writer a quizzical look. "You know imagination is a great t'ing. Dey eider mek all dat up or dey tell you what bin tell dem. I got to stick to de trut', I 'members berry little, berry little. I don't 'member much 'bout what we did in de country befo' de war, nor what we eat, nor no games and such. I don't know what de big people wear. De cullered people mek dey own cloth, and call um cotton osnaburg. Dey mek banyans for de chillen. Sleebe bin cut in de cloth, and dey draw it up at de neck, and call um banyan. Dey is wear some kind ob slip under um but dat all. Dey ain't know nutting 'bout drawers nor nutting like dat.

"De medicine I remember was castor oil, and dogwood and cherry bark, which dey put in whiskey and gib you. Dey is gib you dis to keep your blood good. Dogwood will bitter yo' blood, it good medicine, I know.

"I 'member de people hab to git ticket for go out at night. W'en dey is gone to prayer meeting I is see dem drag bresh back dem to outen dey step. If de patrol ketch you wid out ticket dey beat you.

"I 'members w'en de Yankee come tru, and Wheeler a'my come after um. Doze bin dreadful times. De Yankees massicued de people, and burn dere houses, and stole de meat and eberyting dey could find. De white folks hab to live wherebber dey kin, and dey didn't hab enough to eat. I know whole families live on one goose a week, cook in greens. Sometimes they hab punkin and corn, red corn at dat. Times was haard, haard. De cullered people dodn't hab nutting to eat neider. Dat why my auntie bring me to Charleston to lib.

"De fust year atter freedom I gone to school on Mr. John Townsend place, down to Rockville. After peace declare de cullered people lib on cornmeal mush and salt water in de week and mush and vinegar for Sunday. Mine you, dat for Sunday. I don't see how we lib, yet we is. About eight year after de war we use to go down to de dairy for clabber. Dey give you so much for each one in de fambly, two tablespoon full for de grown people and one tablespoon for de chilluns. We add water to dat and mek a meal. In de country de cullered people lib on uh third (crop) but of course at de end of de year dey didn't hab nutting, yet dey has libed. I 'member w'en de Ku Klux was out too, de people bin scared 'cause dey is beat some and kill some."

When asked which she thought best, slavery or freedom, her answer was: "Better stay free if you can stay straight. Slabery time was tough, it like looking back into de dark, like looking into de night."

Feeling that as she remembered so little of plantation life her opinion was based on hearsay or her memories of war times, the writer told her of the answer of another old Negro woman: "No matter what slabery bring, if it hadn't been for slabery I nebber would hab met my Jesus." It seemed to make a strong impression on Amy who threw up her hands in the typical African gesture, and said "Praise de Lawd, w'en yo talk 'bout Jesus you is got me coming and going."

Amy is deeply religious. She owns four of Judge Rutherford's books which she claims to have read "from cubber to cubber" many times. "Some people b'lieve in dreams," she said, "but I don't hab no faith in dem. Lot ob people b'lieve in root and sich but dey can't scare me wid root. I roll ober dem from yuh to Jericho and dey wouldn't bodder me. A man died bad right in dat house yonder, and I went wid de doctor and close his sight and sich, and I come right home and gone to bed and sleep. He ain't bodder me and I ain't see um since. I don't believe in ghosts, nor dreams, nor conjuh, dat de worse. John de Baptist and dem dream dreams, and de Lawd show dem vision, but dat diffrunt." With another comical look at the writer, she continued; "You can eat yo' stomach full and you'll dream. I b'lieve in some kind ob vision. You doze off, and you hab a good dream. I b'lieve dat. People get converted in dreams. I was twelve year ole when I get converted. I dreamed I was in a field, a large green field. A girl was dere dat I didn't had no use for. I had a bundle on my back. I honey de girl up and love um and de bundle fall on de ground. Dey put me in de church den.

"Some people say dey kin see ghost but you can't see ghost and lib. De Bible say if you kin see de wind you kin see spirit. If you kin see ghost you can see Gawd, and I know you can't see Gawd and lib. De Bible say so. I don't b'lieve in um, no ghost, and no cunjuh tho' my uncle Cotton Judson and my aunt Nassie both b'lieve in dem. Uncle Cotton could do most as much as de debbul (devil) hesself, he could most fly, but I nebber b'lieve in um no matter what he kin do."

In order to get her to talk the writer told her of a few of the accomplishments of the East Indians. She said, "Yes, Gawd got some people mek berry wise. Dey can't say dey mek demself wise. What race dese Indian come from, anyway, I know dem come from Indiana, but what race, Ham, Seth, Japheth or what. I hear de Indian hab some wise ways, and my people b'lieve in all kind ob ghost, and spirit an t'ing but I don't. I don't eben let um talk to me 'bout dem, w'en det start I say 'gone gome wid dat.' I can't counteract de Bible and I can't counteract Gawd, I don't b'lieve in um. Dat what I don't visit round. My people lub (love) too much idle discourse, and idle discourse is 'gainst de Bible. I nebber trapsy round w'en I young and I don't now. Day why I don't hab no company. As long as ole people lib dey going to tell de young ones 'bout ghost an t'ing, and dey going to pass it on, and w'en dey die dey going to leab dat foolishness right yuh. No I don't b'lieve in no conjuh and no root. If dey gib me poison den dey got me."

Rob Perry

*Interview with Uncle Rob Perry & Aunt Della Britton* *Trenton, S.C.* --_Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C._

"Aunt Della born in 1863. He in 1864. He drove cows fer Marse Squire Jim Perry, who lived on the line of Edgefield and Newberry Counties. Mos de time dey traded in Newberry County, 'cause it nearer town. All road wuz bad in dem days, even in summer dey wuz allus rough.

"Uncle Rob toted water, picked up chips and carried rations fum kitchen to dinin room. Often Messrs. Jim Long, Sam, Jake and Bob Smith, (3 brothers) came to our big house fer dinner and to dance afterward.

"Plenty water to tote and fires to build den. Go out an git pine and cedar limbs to put over de picturs and 'roun de mantle boards' Fix up de table wid trimmins, git mo candles and put all roun. Mak egg-nog in de winter and mint juleps in de summer. Some time dar wuz sillabub, it ain't so good tho. De young mens dat I mentioned befo have me ter pick out pretty girls fer dem ter dance wid. I drap a curtsey an han' dem de name. If dey want ter dance wid him they look at him and flick dey fan an if dey didn't den dey never give him no mind.

"Dat done all pass by as evry thing does. Now I thanks God and looks to de Savior. Ef dar is success ter ye dat is what you has to do all de time. Della and I done had fifteen chilluns. Us is so lonesome as we has jes one a livin.

"Mr. Campbell, a Yankee man married Miss Joanna Perry. Her paw wuz Mr. Oliver Perry of Bouknight's Ferry on de Saluda River. In dat famly wuz Miss Isabelle and Messrs. John, Milledge, Jake and Tom. Miss Joanna marry on Friday in de parlor all fixed up wid cedar ropes a-hangin' fum de ceilin an de mo-es candles what a body ever did see. She made us buil' her a arch and kivver hit wid vines. It sot before de mantle and a white bell hung fum de middle uv it. White cloth wuz stretched over eveything and dey never let nobuddy walk in dat room cep in dey bare feet fer fear dey dirty all dat cloth.

"Miss Isabella sho picked de pianny fer Miss Joanna. A Young lady fum anuther plantation sang two songs. All pur white ladies wore dey pretties' white dresses wid flowers in dey hair. Miss Joanna had her face all kivvered up wid er thin white cloth dat fell off'n her and laid all back uv her on de floor. An de white ladies had dey white dresses a layin over de floor but didn't none uv dem have dey faces kivvered cept Miss Joanna, you see she wuz de bride.

"My ole 'oman wuz rigged in white herself. Evvything in dat house wuz fixed up extry fer da ceremony. I wo' one de men's black coats and black pants and a white shirt wid a ves' an tie. I had on a fine pair black shoes. Dey give all dat ter me en I kep it adder de weddin. Dat suit I wore ter church fer de nex ten years.

"Nex day, Saturday, come de big 'infair'. A double table wuz set up in de dinin room. Ham, turkey en chicken wuz put on dat table dat wussent teched. Dey jes stay dere along wid de fixins. All de victuals wuz placed on de plates in de kitchen and fetched to de table. Five darkies wuz kep busy refreshin de weddin diners.

"Miss Joanna an de Yankee man what she done married de day befo dat, her sister, de lady what sing en her maw an paw an de parson set at de table what they calls de bridal table. Dat table had de mo-es trimmins on hit of bows an ribbens and de like ob dat. I still sees Miss Joanna a settin dare. She wo' her weddin dress jes zactly lak she did de day befo. She never had her face kivvered up wuz de onliest change I seed. De weddin dinner musta lasted two hours'. Atter dat de carriage came roun en evvybody lined up along de front door by de cape jessamines ter throw rice an ole shoes at de bride when she come outside de big house ter git in de carrage. Evvybody wuz mighty spry to be done danced all de night befo til de sun had showed red in de Eas' dat Sadday mornin.

"Atter she gone off I jes' cud'n figger' out how Marse' had got so much together fer dat weddin', kaise hit had'n been no time since de Yankee so'ders had carried off ev'y thing and left us dat po'. But den sum years has slipped by since dat.

"When I turn back to go in de big house, I see de pea-fowls a sneakin' off to de river rale 'shame 'kase dey never had er sign uv a tail. All dey tail feathers wuz plucked ter make de weddin fans en ter go in de Mistus an de gals hats. Dat sho wuz er big drove en dey is de pretties' fowl whut dere is, an folks doesn't give dem no mine dese days."

Victoria Perry

*Interview with Victoria Perry* *167 Golding St., Spartanburg, S.C.* --_F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg, S.C._

Victoria Perry, who lives in Spartanburg, says that she was just a small child when slavery times were "in vogue," being eight years old when the "negroes were set free in 1865." Her mother, she said, was Rosanna Kelly, and had lived in Virginia before she was bought by Bert Mabin, who owned a farm near Newberry. She says that she was often awakened at night by her mother who would be crying and praying. When she would ask her why she was crying, her mother would tell her that her back was sore from the beating that her master had given her that day. She would often be told by her mother: "Some day we are going to be free; the Good Lord won't let this thing go on all the time." Victoria said she was as scared of her master as she was of a mad dog. She said her master used to tie her mother to a post, strip the clothes from her back, and whip her until the blood came. She said that her mother's clothes would stick to her back after she had been whipped because she "bleed" so much. She said that she wanted to cry while her mother was being whipped, but that she was afraid that she would get whipped if she cried.

"Whenever my master got mad at any of the niggers on the place, he would whip them all. He would tie them to a post or to a tree, strip off their clothes to the waist, and whip them till he got tired. He was a mean master, and I was scared of him. I got out of his sight when he came along.

"My father was a white man, one of the overseers on the farm. I don't know anything about him or who he was. I never saw him that I knowed of. But the way Bert Mabin beat my mother was cruel.

"One day a Yankee come by the house and told my master to get all the colored people together; that a certain Yankee general would come by and would tell them that they were free. So one day the niggers gathered together at the house, and the Yankee general was there with some soldiers. They formed a circle around the niggers and the general stood in the middle and told us all we were free. My mother shouted, 'The Lord be praised.' There was a general rejoicing among the niggers and then we backed away and went home. My mother told me she knew the Lord would answer her prayers to set her free.

"I went hungry many days, even when I was a slave. Sometimes I would have to pick up discarded corn on the cob, wipe the dirt off and eat it. Sometimes during slavery, though, we had plenty to eat, but my master would give us just anything to eat. He didn't care what we got to eat.

"After we were set free, I went with my mother to the Gist plantation down in Union. My mother always wanted to go back to her home at Bradford, Virginia, but she had no way to go back except to walk. Work was mighty scarce after slavery was over, and we had to pick up just what we could get. My mother got a job on the Gist plantation, and somehow I got up here to Spartanburg.

"I married Tom Perry, and I have been here ever since, although he is dead now. He was a brick-mason.

"I sure was scared of my master, he treated us niggers just like we was dogs. He had all our ages in a big Bible at the house, but I never went there to see my age. My mother told me always to say I was eight years old when I was set free. I am eighty now, according to that."

John Petty

*Interview with John Petty (87)* *Hill Street, Gaffney, S.C.* --_Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C._

"I was born on the Jim Petty place in what was then Spartanburg County.

"Marse raised all his darkies to ride young. I no more 'members when I learned to ride than I 'members when I come into the world. Marse had his stables built three logs high from the outside of the lot. When the horse step down into the lot, then I jump on his back from the third log. So little that I never could have got on no other way without help.

"The horse what I rid had a broad fat back and he trot so fast that sometimes I fall off, but I hang on to the mane and swing back on his back and he never break his gait. Then again if I didn't swing right back up he take and stop till I git landed on his back once more.

"One horse called Butler, farm horse named Tom, mule called Jack, slave horse called Stoneman, then one called Cheny, one Jane, one Thicketty and the stud-horse named Max. I allus play with him, but my folks was ig'nant to that fact. I lay down and he jump straight up over me. I git corn and he eat it from my hand. There was apples and salt that he loved [HW: to eat] from my palm. He throw his fore legs plumb over my head, and never touch me at all. All this gwine on in Max's stable. It big enough for a dozen or more horses, 'cause it hardly ever beed that Max git out and his stable had to be big so as he could exercise in it. So I slip in there and we play unbeknownst to the old folks, white or black. The door slided open. When I git tired and ready to go out then I slide the door open. Maxie knowed that I was gwine and he had the most sense. He watch till I git the door slid open and if he could he run by me and jump out. I never could git him back in and he race 'round that lot till the hands come in from the field at dark. He have a good time and git all sweaty.

"When he jump over me out'n the sliding door, then I hide under the feed house till Mammy holler, 'Lawdy, fore the living, yonder is Max a-ripping hisself plumb to he death in that lot.' Then they send for some the mens to git him back. Atter they done that then I crawl out, climb the lot fence and run through the field home. When I sets down Maw 'lows, 'Does you know it's real curious thing how that old stud-horse git his door open and come out'n that stable. It must be haints creeping 'bout right here in the broad open daylight!' At that I draw up real near the fire and say, 'Maw, does you reckon that the haints is gwine to come and open our door some time?'

"On t'other hand, if I be real quick a-gitting out of the stable door before Max turn and see me, when then he couldn't git out. None of them never knowed 'bout the good times that me and Max used to did have. And it 'pears real strange to me now that he never did hit me with his foots nor nothing. That horse sure 'nough did love me and that's jest all what it is to that. I also used to slip in the extra feed house and fetch him oats and the like 'twixt and 'tween times. He stay that fat and slick. But it wouldn't nary lil' darky would go near that stud-horse but me. They's all skeered to death when he git in the lot and when they seed him in there they would run and git in the house and slam the door plumb shut.

"When I done come up nigh 18 or something like that, the big freedom come 'round. Marse Jim say us could all go and see the world as we'uns was free niggers. Us jump up and shout Glory and sing, but us never sassed our white folks like it 'pears to be the knowledge up North. I'd done been there and they thinks us turned our backs on our white folks, but I never seed nothing but scalawag niggers and poor white trash a-doing that, that I ain't. One nigger went from the plantation to the north as they called it.

"When he had done stayed there fer five years then he come back and hired out to Marse Jim. He looked real lanky, but I never paid that no mind then. He was older than I was and he always 'lowing, 'John, up in Winston all the niggers makes five dollar a day; how come you don't go up there and git rich like I is'. Some of the older ones laugh when he talk to me like that and he lean to my ear and say real low, 'They's ig'nant.'

"One day when the crops done laid by I told Marse Jim, as I allus call him that, I 'lows, 'Marse, dis fall I gwine north to git rich, but I sure is gwine to bring you folks something when I comes south again'.

"So Marse give me my money and I set out for the north. I got to Winston-Salem and got me a job. But it was that hard a-cleaning and a-washing all the time. 'Cause I never knowed nothing 'bout no 'baccy and there wasn't nothing that I could turn off real quick that would bring me no big money. It got cold and I never had no big oak logs to burn in my fireplace and I set and shivered till I lay down. Then it wasn't no kivver like I had at Marse Jim's. Up there they never had 'nough wood to keep no fire all night.

"Next thing I knowed I was down with the grip and it took all the money dat I had and then I borrowed some to pay the doctor. So I up and come back home. It took me a long time to reach Spartanburg and from there I struck up with the first home niggers I seed since I left in the fall. That make me more better than I feel since the first day what I 'rive at Winston. Long afore I 'rive at home, I knowed that I done been a fool to ever leave the plantation.

"When I git home all the darkies that glad to offer me the 'glad hand'. I ax where that nigger what 'ticed me off to the north and they all 'low that he done took the consumption and died soon after I done gone from home. I never had no consumption, but it took me long time to git over the grippe. I goes to old Marse and hires myself out and I never left him no more till the Lawd took him away.

"God knows that the slaves fared better than these free niggers is. Us had wool clothes in the winter and us had fire and plenty wood and plenty to eat and good houses to keep out the rain and cold. In the summer us had cool clabber milk and bread and meat and spring water and now us don't have all them things and us can't keep up no houses like our log houses was kept.

"Why, Charlie Petty, Marse's son, wore home made clothes at home jest as us did. He was dat proud that he 'come editor or something of a Spartanburg paper."

Sarah Poindexter

*Interview with Sarah Poindexter, 87 years old* *800 Lady Street (in the rear), Columbia, S.C.* --_Stiles M. Scruggs, Columbia, S.C._

"My name is Sarah Poindexter. I was born in 1850, on de plantation of Jacob Poindexter, 'bout ten miles beyond Lexington court house. These old eyes of mine has seen a mighty lot of things here'bouts durin' de eighty-seven years I been 'round here.

"De first time I see Columbia, it de powerfulest lot of big wood houses and muddy streets I ever see in my life. De Poindexter wagon dat carry my daddy and my mammy and me to de big town, pretty often mire in mudholes all 'long de big road from de plantation to de court house. Dat trip was made 'bout 1857, 'cause I was seven years old when I made dat trip.