Part 17

"Since that first trip I has lived in sight of Columbia, 'most all my life. My daddy, my mammy and me lived on de plantation of Master Poindexter until 1863. We might a lived there longer, if things had not been so upset. I sho' recall de excitement in de neighborhood when roving crowds of niggers come 'long de big road, shoutin' and singin' dat all niggers am free. Snow was on de ground, but de spirits of de niggers was sho' plenty hot.

"De Poindexter plantation was one big place of excitement them days. De slaves work some, all durin' de war, sometimes I now 'spects it was for de sake of de missus. All of us loved her, 'cause she was so kind and good to us. She was cryin' and worryin' all de time 'bout her manfolks, who was away fightin' damn Yankees, she say. She sho' had plenty of backbone or spunk, when stragglers show up, they always hungry and always ready to take what they want to eat, until the missus come on de scene with her trusty shotgun. It seem like de war last forever to me, 'stead of 'bout five years. To a child, Lordy, how long de years hang on, and when we get past fifty, oh, how fast de time runs.

"One day mammy stay in bed, too sick to go to de big house to cook, and befo' noon, who should come to our cabin but Missus Poindexter herself, carryin' a basket. She set it down and say to mammy: 'Lawzy Sadie, I not leave you here to starve; then she uncover de basket and set out a big plate of chicken and dumplin', hot biscuits, coffee, and a lot of other good things.

"When she gone, mammy eat some and give me some, and mammy git up next mornin' and say: 'Sis, my white folks' missus am so good and kind, I am goin' to work for her today, best I can'. She went but she wasn't good well yet. Missus Poindexter many times fetch me a piece of candy or somethin' when she go to town and back.

"No, I never see Columbia burn in 1865, but we reckon that it was burnin' that night in February, 1865, 'cause we smell it and de whole east look lak some extra light is shinin' and pretty soon, some folks come ridin' by and tell us the whole city in flames. De next time I see it, I guess there wasn't fifty houses standin'. Chimneys standin' 'round, is about all there was where most of de city was standin' befo'.

"My daddy was killed down 'bout Aiken, shortly after 1865. Me and mammy come to Columbia and live in a cabin in de alley back of Senate Street, where mammy take in washin' and cook for some white folks, who know her; I helped her. She die in 1868, and I goes 'way with four other nigger gals to Durham to work in a tobacco factory. Both white and nigger women work there, but de nigger women do most of de hard work, strippin' de leaves, stemmin' them, and placin' them to dry. White women finish them for de trade.

"In 1870 when I comes back to Columbia de city am acomin' back. Big buildin's up along de streets, but most of them was made of wood. Soon after that I gets work in a hotel, but Columbia at that time was not so big and Durham was smaller still, although Durham had more brick houses. I was happier on de Poindexter plantation and had fewer things to worry 'bout than when I was ascratchin' 'round for myself.

"You ask has I been married? Yes, I marry a dandy lookin' young man, 'bout my own age, 'bout a year after I comes back to Columbia. His name, so he say, is Sam Allen. He make fun of some other niggers who work at one thing or another to live. One day he come to where I work and say he bound to raise ten dollars. I hands him de cash, and he gives me a good kiss right there befo' de folks, but I never see him again. I hear, after he gone, that he win some more money at a gamblin' place on Assembly street, and reckon he decided to blow 'way, while blowin' was good.

"De folks who know me always call me Sarah Poindexter and I got it honestly, like other honest slaves who never know what their real name was, and so I keeps it to the end of the road.

"I am now livin' with a distant relative and firmly trustin' in Jesus, as I have done for more than fifty years, that he will keep me to the end of the trail here and greet me when I pass on 'way up Yonder'."

Sam Polite

*Interview with Sam Polite, age 93* --_Mrs. Chlotilde R. Martin, Beaufort County_

"W'en gun shoot on Bay Pint (Bay Point) for freedom, I been sebenteen year old wuking slabe. I born on B. Fripp Plantation on St. Helena Island. My fadder been Sam Polite and my mudder been Mol Polite. My fadder b'long to Mister Marion Fripp and my mudder b'long to Mister Old B. Fripp. I don't know how mucher land, neider how much slabe he hab, but he hab two big plantation, and many slabe--more'n a hundred slabe.

"Slabe lib on Street--two row ob house wid two room to de house. I hab t'ree sister name, Silvy Polite, Rose Polite and Minda Polite. Hab brudder, too, but he die.

"My fadder and mudder ain't marry. Slabe don't marry--dey jest lib togedder. All slabe hab for stay on plantation in day time but w'en wuk done, kin wisit wife on odder plantation. Hab pass, so Patrol won't git um.

"W'en I been leetle boy, I play en Street--shoot marble play aa'my and sech t'ing. W'en hawn blow and mawning star rise, slabe' hab for git up and cook. W'en day clean, dey gone to field. 'Ooman too old for wuk in field hab for stay on Street and mind baby. Old mens follow cow. Chillen don't wuk in field 'till twelve or t'irteen year old. You carry dinner to field in your can and leabe um at de heading (end of row). W'en you feel hongry, you eat. Ebery slabe hab tas' (task) to do. Sometime one task (quarter acre), sometime two tas', and sometime t'ree. You haf for wuk 'til tas' t'ru (through). W'en cotton done mek, you hab odder tas'. Haffa cut cord ob maash (marsh) grass maybe. Tas' ob maash been eight feet long and four feet high. Den sometime you haffa (have to) roll cord ob mud in cowpen. 'Ooman haffa rake leaf from wood into cowpen. (This was used for fertilizer.)

"W'en you knock off wuk, you kin wuk on your land. Maybe you might hab two or t'ree tas' ob land 'round your cabin what Maussa gib you for plant. You kin hab chicken, maybe hawg. You kin sell aig (egg) and chicken to store and Maussa will buy your hawg. In dat way slabe kin hab money for buy t'ing lak fish and w'atebber he want. We don't git much fish in slabery 'cause we nebber hab boat. But sometime you kin t'row out net en ketch shrimp. You kin also ketch 'possum and raccoon wid your dawg.

"On Sattidy night ebery slabe dat wuks gits peck ob corn and pea, and sometime meat and clabber. You nebber see any sugar neider coffee in slabery. You has straw in your mattress but dey gib you blanket. Ebery year in Christmas month you gits four or eider fibe yaa'd cloth 'cording to how you is. Out ob dat, you haffa mek your clote (clothes). You wears dat same clote till de next year. You wears hit winter en summer, Sunday en ebery day. You don't git no coat, but dey gib you shoe. In slabery, you don't know nutting 'bout sheets for your bed. Us nebber know nutting 'bout Santa Claus 'till Freedom, but on Christmas Maussa gib you meat and syrup and maybe t'ree day widout wuk. Slabe wuk 'till daa'k on Sattidy jest lak any odder day--I still does wuk 'till daa'k on Sattidy. But on Sunday slabe don't wuk. On Fourth ob July, slabe wuk 'till twelbe o'clock and den knocks off. On Sunday slabe kin wisit back and fort' (forth) on de plantations.

"Slabe don't do mucher frolic. W'en 'ooman hab baby he hab mid-wife for nine day and sometime don't haffa wuk for month w'en baby born, Missis send clote (clothes) from Big House. W'en nigger sick, Maussa sen' doctor. If you been berry sick, doctor gib you calomus (calomel) or castor oil. Sometime he gib you Dead-Shot for worms, or Puke (powder) to mek you heave. If I jest hab a pain in muh stummick, my mudder gib me Juse-e-moke w'at he git outen de wood." (I was unable to get any definite idea of what 'Dead-Shot', 'Puke' or 'Juse-e-moke' were.)

"If slabe don't do tas', de git licking wid lash on naked back. Driver nigger gib licking, but Maussa 'most always been dere. Sometime maybe nigger steal hawg or run 'way to de wood, den he git licking too. Can't be no trouble 'tween white folks and nigger in slabery time for dey do as dey choose wid you. But Maussa good to slabe If dey done day's tas' and don't be up to no meanness. Missis don't hab nutting to do wid nigger.

"In slabery, nigger go to white folks chu'ch. Slabe don't know nutting 'bout baptizing. W'en nigger dead, you can't knock off wuk for berry um. You haffa wait 'till night time to put um in de graabe (grave). You berry um by de light ob torch. Old Man Tony Ford bin de man w'at 'tend to funerals. Dey wasn't no nigger preacher on de plantation but dey been people to hold praise (prayers).

"I nebber see nigger in chain, but I shum (see them) in stock. I see plenty nigger sell on banjo table. Dey put you up on flatform (platform) en dey buy you. I see my uncle sell he brung one hundred dollar. 'Ooman don't sell widout he chillen.

"Mister Johnnie Fripp been my n'oung Maussa. W'en he chillen git marry, Old Maussa diwide de nigger. He gib Maussa Johnnie t'irty slabe and I been one ob dem. Maussa buy plantation on de Main (mainland). He build big house. He hab four boy and two gal. He hab five hundred acre. He ain't hab no oberseer, jest driver. We don't know no poor white trash on de Main, neider on St. Helena Islant.

"I wuk in field on Maussa Johnnie Fripp plantation. Sometime we sing w'en us wuk. One song we sing been go lak dis:

Go way, Ole Man Go way, Ole Man W'ere you bin all day If you treat me good I'll stay 'till de Judgment day, But if you treat me bad, I'll sho' to run away.

"W'en war come, Missis tek me and two more niggers, put we and chillen in two wagon and go to Baarnwell (Barnwell). My mudder been one ob de nigger. We stay in Baarnwell all enduring (during) de war. My fadder he been wid de Rebel--been wid Mr. Marion Chaplin. W'en Freedom come, Missis didn't say nutting, she jest cry. But she gib we uh wagon and we press (stole) a horse and us come back to St. Helena Islant. It tek t'ree day to git home. W'en we git home, we fine de rest ob de nigger yere been hab Freedom four year befo' we! I wuk for uh nigger name Peter White. Muh fadder come back, and buy 20 acre ob land and we all lib togedder. I gone to school one or two year, but I ain't larn (learn) much. Four year after war, I buy fifteen acre ob land. Dat was dis yere same place w'ere I libs now. After w'ile I goes to wuk in rock (phosphate mines). I hears 'bout Ku Klux. Dey been bad people. Dey will kill you. Been marry to four wife. Dis yere last one, he been born in slabery too, but he don't 'members much 'bout um. He been leetle gal so high jest big 'nuf for open gate for white folks. I hab t'ree chillen, two libbing. I hear tell my boy William been marry to a w'ite 'ooman in England and hab t'ree chillen. My gal Alice lib in New Yawk. Sometime she send me money. I hab two great-gran.

"Abraham Lincoln? He de one w'at gib we liberty for wuk for we se'f. He come to Beaufort 'fore de war. He come as uh rail-splitter and spy 'round. He gone back w'ere he come from and say: 'You eider got to gib dese nigger t'ree day for deyse'f or dere will be blood-shed.' And he been right. I would be glad for shum (see him) but I nebber shum.

"I don't know nutting 'bout dat genman Mister Davis, neider Mister Washington--you say he been a nigger, too?

"Wat I t'ink 'bout slabery? I t'ink it been good t'ing. It larn nigger to wuk. If it ain't mek nigger wuk, he wouldn't do nutting but tief (thief). You don't find nigger wuk for slabery running 'round looking for ready money--dat been all dese yere n'oung nigger want. Me--I slabing for self right now. I don't want nobody for mek me wuk, but slabery larn me for wuk. I hab wuk five hundred head ob man in rock and today ain't one can come to me and say: 'Sam Polite, you beat me out ob one penny.'

"Slabery done uh good t'ing for me, 'cause if he ain't larn me to wuk, today I wouldn't know how to wuk."

William Pratt

*Interview with William Pratt (77)* *Newberry, S.C. RFD* --_G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C._

"I live with my children on a farm in Newberry County. I have a good place to live and plenty to eat. I work on the farm. I moved from Chester County in the year 1898, the year the Spanish-American War started.

"I was born in Chester County in April 1860. My parents belonged to the Pratts, but my mother belonged to the Kennedys before she married. They went to Robert K. Kennedy and was with him as his slaves. He was a good man but his wife was mean. She sure could 'cuss out slaves if they made her mad. She whipped me once when I was a small boy. I couldn't do much with her. My daddy's family belonged to the Pratts who lived seven miles from Chester. They was good folks to slaves. They always had lots to eat from their big garden. The white folks went hunting, and it was said some wild turkeys was around Price's Mountain, about nine miles south of Chester.

"We got up before day and went to work and worked till sundown. My mammy cooked for the family; and one day the mistress got mad at her and hit her on the head with a coffee paddle. We worked all day on Saturdays but didn't work on Sundays. On Christmas we had a holliday and had frolics and big eats.

"The patrollers once caught my daddy out at night without a pass and whipped him a little, just for mischief. He was always allowed to go about where he wanted to go without a pass, but next time he asked Miss Polly for a paper to take out with him.

"After the war the Ku Klux didn't bother us but the Red Shirts come and wanted us to join them, that is they wanted my brother to join. He wouldn't join though. My brother-in-law joined and wore one of the shirts with them. He wanted Wade Hampton elected as he believed it was best for us. He was a Democrat and said they all ought to wear them. Once some mischief was played on a Negro who was a Republican and voted for Chamberlain. He was given a card and told to go to a certain merchant and show the card to him, that the merchant was a Chamberlain man and would give him supplies. He showed the card to the merchant who got mad and told the Negro if he didn't get out of his store he would kill him.

"Some of the old folks sometimes saw ghosts. A negro went to church one night on a horse, and somebody slipped up behind and spurred the horse. The Negro went home as fast as he could, saying that he had seen a ghost.

"When Freedom come, Old Man Kennedy took it well and said we was all free, but his wife just cursed us and said, 'Damn you, you are free now'. Old Marse Kennedy had some sons killed in the war. James and Douglas Kennedy lived in Chester County after the war.

"We used to dance jigs by ourself, and we danced the 'hack-back', skipping backwards and forwards facing each other. When one danced a jig he would sing, 'Juber this, Juber that, Juber kills a yellow cat'. My brother used to sing a cotton picking song: 'My mammy got meat skin laid away; grease my belly three times a day'.

"We was Baptist and baptized by immersion. An old Baptist song that was sung at the baptism was: 'Trouble water today, trouble water today, trouble water today. He will save you, He will save you; come to Jesus today, come to Jesus today, come to Jesus today. He will save you, He will save you, just now.'

"An old wood-chopping song which is yet sung by negroes is:

Come on baby, let us go down; Come on baby, let us go down; Ten-pounder hammer stove my head; 'nough to kill my body dead.

"I married Rosy Kennedy, a daughter of Mose Kennedy, and had five children, but only two are now living. I have several grandchildren living in Chester County. I worked first on the Kennedy place. Their daughter, Miss Julie, was good to us. She married Robert Orr of Chester. She didn't have many beaux before because her mother was so mean nobody wanted to come around her. Miss Julie helped at my wedding. When my wife wasn't able to get breakfast so I could go to work, Miss Julie would tell me to come to her house and eat. That was after her mother died.

"I think Abraham Lincoln didn't do just right, 'cause he threw all the negroes on the world without any way of getting along. They was helpless. He ought to have done it gradually and give them a chance to get on their own. I think Booker Washington is a great man and has done great work, because he says negroes must have education and learn to work, too, and not sit down and expect more because he is educated.

"I joined the church because I believe there is a 'here-after', and I wanted to learn more about Jesus and get His forgiveness for what I had done wrong. We need Him always, because St. Matthews says the last state of man is worse than the first."

Henry Pristell

*Interview with Henry Pristell, 83 year old* *Estill, S.C.* --_Phoebe Faucette, Hampton County_

'Uncle Henry' Pristell and his wife, Lucina, live in the town of Estill in the usual type of small negro cabin. 'Uncle Henry' has a record of his age that shows that he is eighty-three years old but he is so well preserved that it is hard to believe. Although he is very bald, and his closely cut hair is nearly white, he gets about so easily and talks with such vigor he seems much younger.

"Oh, yes ma'am, I kin tell you 'bout de war times. I seen lots of dat, ma'am. I seen lots: I couldn't tell you all 'bout it--it been so distressful--but I kin tell some. When de Yankees come, at first sight of dem dey was string right 'long as far back as Luray. And string out crossways all over everywhere. Dey was jes' as thick together as de panels in dis fence. Dey was thousands of 'em! It was in de afternoon, an' dey was over everywhere--over de woods, over de fields, an' through de swamps, thick as dem weeds out dere! Dey didn't leave anything! Dey burn de fences down, shoot de cows, de hogs, de turkeys an' ducks an geese, de chickens an' everything. Dey didn't stay no time--didn't spend de night--jes' pass through. I see some of 'em set a fence afire an' stop dere an' cook. Dere was rail fences of fat pinewood in dem days.

"For de plantation use, dey didn't burn none of de colored folks' houses nor de old boss' house. An' as for anybody being injured when dey pass through I didn't see none of dat. I must speak de truth, ma'am I didn't see anything out of the way. Jes' burn things an' take things to eat. Dere was Mr. Thomas' place, an' Mr. David Horton's place, den Mr. Wallace' place. Dey didn't burn any of 'em. I was on de Wallace place. My old boss been Mr. Sam Wallace. De house been up dere till 'bout thirty year ago. Dat been a fine place. Oh, yes ma'am. De house was built up high off de ground--as high as de top of dat room dere. I don't know why dey didn't burn de house. Now dat's all I kin tell you 'bout dat. In all other little doings, I didn't so much as realize it 'cause dey been little scattering doings. I do remember dat dere was a camp at Lawtonville for a while. Dey built a place for de prisoners, of mud. Dey dug a pit down in de ground 'bout three feet deep, den made de walls of mud. I'm satisfied 'bout dat. Dey didn't stay long. It was de Southern soldiers had de camp.

"After de war, we stay dere on de place. Stay dere for years. My father been Abram Pristell, my mother Lucy Pristell. 'Fore de war, I been jes' a little boy. Didn't have no special work to do. I penetrates 'round de yard dere by de kitchen. My mother would cook for de folks. Penetrate several days an' several night. De kitchen was off from de house. It had a big fireplace in it. Didn't have no stove. I'll be honest wid you. I'm satisfied 'bout dat! Had a loom in it an' a spinnin' wheel. I seen dem a many a time spinnin' an' weavin'. Oh, yes ma'am, I'm satisfied 'bout dat! An' dey had plenty of good things to eat. Oh, dey was well secured. You'll never see dat no more--not on dis side! But dey had plenty of people to feed an' to take care of. 'Course we don't want dose times no more, 'cause while some of de boss been good to 'em some of 'em been bad. What little time we got here we wants to take it easy an' quiet."

Junius Quattlebaum

*Interview with Junius Quattlebaum, 84 years old* --_Henry Grant, Columbia, S.C._

Junius Quattlebaum lives with his grandson, a short distance south of the Guignard Brick Factory, in the town of New Brookland, S.C. He is partially capable of self-support from what work and produce he is able to pick up around the City Market in Columbia.

"Well, sir, you want to talk to me 'bout them good old days back yonder in slavery time, does you? I call them good old days, 'cause I has never had as much since. I has worked harder since de war betwixt de North and de South than I ever worked under my marster and missus. I was just a small boy while de war was gwine on, but I was big 'nough to see and know what went on dere on de plantation all right.

"I was born on Marster Jim Quattlebaum's plantation over dere in Saluda County. He had 'bout sixty-five slaves in all, countin' de chillun. My marster wouldn't have no overseer, 'cause he say overseers would whip his niggers and he didn't 'low nobody, white or black, to do dat. If his niggers had to be whipped, he was gwine to do dat hisself and then they wouldn't be hurt much. Marster lak to see his slaves happy and singin' 'bout de place. If he ever heard any of them quarrelin' wid each other, he would holler at them and say: 'Sing! Us ain't got no time to fuss on dis place.'

"Marster lak he dram, 'specially in de fall of de year when it fust git cool. Us used to have big corn shuckin's on de plantation at night, 'long 'bout de fust of November of every year. All de corn was hauled from de fields and put in two or three big piles in de barnyard and de slaves would git 'round them, sing and shuck de corn. De slave women would hang buckets of raw tar afire on staves drove in de ground 'round de crowd, to give light. Them was sho' happy times.

"Marster would give all de grown slaves a dram or two of pure apple brandy, on them corn shuckin' nights, and take several smiles (drinks) hisself. I 'members so well, one of them nights, dat marster come to de barnyard, where us was all lit up, a singin' fit to kill hisself. Us was s'prised to see marster settin' down wid us niggers and shuckin' corn as fas' as us was. After a spell, him stood up and took 'nother smile, then say: 'Pass de jug 'round and let's all take a drink.' Wid dat, one of de niggers grab de jug of liquor and passed it 'round to all de shuckers. Then marster say: 'Everybody sing.' Some of de niggers 'quire: 'What you gwine to sing?' He say:--'Sing dis song: Pass 'round de bottle and we'll all take a drink.' Some of them in de crowd 'jected to dat song, 'cause they had 'nough liquor in them to 'ject to anything. Marster kinda scratch he head and say: 'Well, let me git a pole and you all is gwine to sing.' And singin' dere was, as sho' as you's born. Them niggers 'round de corn piles dat night h'isted dat song right now; dere was no waitin' for de pole or nothin' else. They wanted to sing, bad.

"De next mornin', after dis night I's talkin' 'bout, Miss Martha, our good missus come 'round to de slave houses and 'quire how they all felt. She say: 'You all can rest today and do what you want to do, 'cause Marster Jim ain't feelin' so well dis mornin'.' She knowed what was gwine on at de corn shuckin' de night befo' but she ain't said nothin' 'bout it. Mammy said many times dat de missus didn't lak dat whiskey drinkin' business in nobody. She was a pure and 'ligious woman if dere ever was one in dis world. Dere ain't no wonder dat de marster was foolish 'bout her. Mammy say de onliest way for both white and black to keep from lovin' Miss Martha, was to git away from her and not be so you could see her.