mill. We didn't have but one day off, that was Christmas Day and den we

had to grind our axes.

"We made our clothes out of cotton and wool mixed, made dem at home wid our own cards and spinning wheels. We made our shoes out of leather tanned at home, but had to use woolen shoes after de war, which would wear out and split open in three weeks.

"My daddy was Amos Wilson and mammy was Carline Griffin. I had some brothers and sisters. When freedom come, de master come to us and told us de damn Yankees done freed us, 'what you gwinter do? If you want ter stay on wid me, I will give you work.' We stayed fer awhile.

"The patrollers caught me once when I run off. I run fast and lost my hat and dey got it. I saw some slaves sold on de block. Dey was put in a ring and sold by crying out de price. We didn't learn to read and write, not allowed to. De niggers went to de corn shuckings and was give pumpkin custards to eat and liquor. Dey wasn't allowed to dance, but sometimes we had secret dances, shut up in de house so de master couldn't hear us.

"After de war, we went hunting and fishing on Sundays. We never had Saturday afternoons off. We killed wild deer and other things. Once de master killed 14 squirrels in three quarters of hour.

"We raised our own tobacco, the master did, for home use. Most always a small patch was planted.

"De master once saw ghosts, he come from his sisters and passed de graveyard and saw 9 cows with no heads. His horse jest flew home. Most white folks didn't believe in ghosts, but dat is one time de master believed he saw some.

"I went wid de Red Shirts, belonged to de company and went to meetings wid dem. I voted fer Hampton. Befo' dat, de Ku Klux had bad niggers dodging like birds in de woods. Dey caught some and threw dem on de ground and whipped dem, but de master say he don't know nothing 'bout it as he was asleep. Dey caught a nigger preacher once and made him dance, put him in muddy water and walloped him around in de mud.

"Once seven Indians come in our neighborhood an call fer meat, meal and salt. Dere was three men and four women. Dey cooked all night, murmuring something all de time. Next morning three squirrels was found up a tree, and de Indians shot 'em down wid bow and arrow.

"One time I saw horses froze to death. Dey couldn't get dere breath, and de people took warm water and wash dere foreheads. I was a small boy den. My master had 46 guineas.

"I married Nancy Robinson who belonged to Robert Calmes. She was living at de Gillam place near Rich Hill.

"We used to ask a riddle like this: Love I stand, Love I sit, Love I hold in my right hand. What is it? It was made up when an old woman had a little dog named 'Love'. She killed it and put a part of it, after it was baked, in her stockings; part in her shoes; part in back of her dress, and part in her gloves. A nigger was going to be hung the next Friday, and told if he guess the riddle he would be turned loose. He couldn't guess it, but was turned loose anyway.

"I think Abe Lincoln might ter done good, but he had us all scared to death, took our mules and burned our places. Don't know anything about Jeff Davis. Booker Washington is all right.

"I joined de church when 28 years old, because I thought it was right. Wanted to git right and git to God's Kingdom. I think everybody ought to join de church.

"O' course I rather it not be slavery time, but I got more ter eat den dan now. Den we didn't know what ter do, but now we perish ter death."

=Source:= Madison Griffin (84), Whitmire, S.C. Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. (6/18/1937)

Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg, Dist. 4 June 7, 1937

Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"I was born in old Edgefield county, about three miles below what is now Saluda Courthouse. I was a slave of Alec Grigsby. He was a fair marster, but his wife was awful mean to us. She poked my head in a rail fence once and whipped me hard with a whip. I lived in that section until eight years ago, when I come to Newberry to live with my daughters.

"I worked hard in cotton fields, milked cows and helped about the marster's house. When the bush-whackers and patrollers come around dere, us niggers suffered lots with beatings. Some of dem was killed.

"The old folks had corn-shuckings, frolics, pender pullings, and quiltings. They had quiltings on Saturday nights, with eats and frolics. When dey danced, dey always used fiddles to make the music.

"The men folks hunted much: doves, partridges, wild turkeys, deer, squirrels and rabbits. Sometimes dey caught rabbits in wooden boxes, called 'rabbit-gums'. It had a trap in the middle, which was set at night, with food in it, and when the rabbit bite, the tray sprung, and the opening at the front was closed so he couldn't get out.

"The marster had a big whiskey still, and sold lots of liquor to people around there."

=Source:= Peggy Grigsby (106), Newberry, S.C. Interviewer: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. 5/10/37.

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

VIOLET GUNTHARPE EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.

"I was born a slave in de Rocky Mount part of Fairfield County, up close to Great Falls. I hear them falls a roarin' now and I see them waters flashin' in de sunshine when I close my eyes.

My pappy name Robert and my mammy name Phyllis. They b'long to de old time 'ristocats, de Gaither family. Does you know Miss Mattie Martin, which was de secretary of Governor Ansel? Dat one of my young mistresses and another is dat pretty red headed girl in de telegraph office at Winnsboro, dat just sit dere and pass out lightnin' and 'lectricity over de wires wheresomever she take a notion. Does you know them? Well, befo' their mama marry Marster Starke Martin, her was Sally Gaither, my young missus in slavery time. Her die and go to Heaven last year, please God.

Marster Richard was a good marster to his slaves, though he took no foolishness and worked you from sun to sun. 'Spect him had 'bout ten family of slaves and 'bout fifty big and little slaves altogether on dat plantation befo' them Yankees come and make a mess out of their lives.

Honey, us wasn't ready for de big change dat come! Us had no education, no land, no mule, no cow, not a pig, nor a chicken, to set up house keeping. De birds had nests in de air, de foxes had holes in de ground, and de fishes had beds under de great falls, but us colored folks was left widout any place to lay our heads.

De Yankees sho' throwed us in de briar patch but us not bred and born dere lak de rabbit. Us born in a good log house. De cows was down dere in de canebrakes to give us milk, de hogs was fattenin' on hickory nuts, acorns, and shucked corn, to give us meat and grease; de sheep wid their wool, and de cotton in de gin house was dere to give us clothes. De horses and mules was dere to help dat corn and cotton, but when them Yankees come and take all dat away, all us had to thank them for, was a hungry belly, and freedom. Sumpin' us had no more use for then, than I have today for one of them airplanes I hears flyin' 'round de sky, right now.

Well, after ravagin' de whole country side, de army got across old Catawba and left de air full of de stink of dead carcasses and de sky black wid turkey buzzards. De white women was weepin' in hushed voices, de niggers on de place not knowin' what to do next, and de piccaninnies suckin' their thumbs for want of sumpin' to eat; mind you 'twas winter time too.

Lots of de chillun die, as did de old folks, while de rest of us scour de woods for hickory nuts, acorns, cane roots, and artichokes, and seine de river for fish. De worst nigger men and women follow de army. De balance settle down wid de white folks and simmer in their misery all thru de spring time, 'til plums, mulberries, and blackberries come, and de shad come up de Catawba River.

My mammy stay on wid de same marster 'til I was grown, dat is fifteen, and Thad got to lookin' at me, meek as a sheep and dumb as a calf. I had to ask dat nigger, right out, what his 'tentions was, befo' I get him to bleat out dat he love me. Him name Thad Guntharpe. I glance at him one day at de pigpen when I was sloppin' de hogs, I say: 'Mr. Guntharpe, you follows me night and mornin' to dis pigpen; do you happen to be in love wid one of these pigs? If so, I'd like to know which one 'tis; then sometime I come down here by myself and tell dat pig 'bout your 'fections.' Thad didn't say nothin' but just grin. Him took de slop bucket out of my hand and look at it, all 'round it, put upside down on de ground, and set me down on it; then he fall down dere on de grass by me and blubber out and warm my fingers in his hands. I just took pity on him and told him mighty plain dat he must limber up his tongue and ask sumpin', say what he mean, wantin' to visit them pigs so often. Us carry on foolishness 'bout de little boar shoat pig and de little sow pig, then I squeal in laughter over how he scrouge so close; de slop bucket tipple over and I lost my seat. Dat ever remain de happiest minute of my eighty-two years.

After us marry, us moved on de Johnson Place and Thad plow right on a farm where dere use to be a town of Grimkeville. I was lonely down dere all de time. I's halfway scared to death of de skeeters 'bout my legs in day time and old Captain Thorn's ghost in de night time. You never heard 'bout dat ghost? If you went to school to Mr. Luke Ford sure he must of tell you 'bout de time a slave boy killed his marster, old Captain Thorn. He drag and throwed his body in de river.

When they find his body they ketch John, de slave boy, give him a trial by six white men, find him guilty and he confess. Then they took de broad axe, cut off his head, mount it on a pole and stick it up on de bank where they find old Captain Thorn. Dat pole and head stay dere 'til it rot down. Captain Thorn's ghost 'pear and disappear 'long dat river bank ever since in de night time. My pappy tell me he see it and see de boy's ghost too.

De ghost rode de minds of many colored folks. Some say dat de ghost had a heap to do wid deaths on dat river, by drowning. One sad thing happen; de ghost and de malaria run us off de river. Us moved to Marster Starke P. Martin's place. Him was a settin' at a window in de house one night and somebody crept up dere and fill his head full of buck-shot. Marster Starke was Miss Sallie's husband, and Miss Mattie and Miss May's papa. Oh, de misery of dat night to my white folks! Who did it? God knows! They sent poor Henry Nettles to de penitentiary for it, but most white folks and all de colored didn't believe he done it. White folks say a white man done it, but our color know it was de work of dat slave boy's ghost.

My white folks come here from Maryland, I heard them say. They fought in de Revolution, set up a tanyard when they got here, and then when cotton come, my marster's pappy was de fust to put up a hoss-gin and screw pit in Rocky Mount section. I glories in their blood, but dere none by de name 'round here now, 'cept colored folks.

Marster Wood you read a heap of books. Did you ever read 'bout foots of ghosts? They got foots and can jump and walk. No they don't run, why? 'Cause seem lak their foots is too big. Dat night Marster Starke Martin was killed it was a snowin'. De whole earth was covered wid a white blanket. It snowed and snowed and snowed. Us measure how big dat snow was next mornin' and how big dat ghost track. De snow was seven inches, and a little bit deep. De ghost track on top de snow big as a elephant's. Him or she or it's tracks 'pear to drap wid de snow and just rise up out de snow and disappear. De white folks say 'twas a man wid bags on his foots, but they never found de bags, so I just believe it was ghost instigate by de devil to drap down dere and make all dat misery for my white folks.

Dere's a great day a comin' when de last trumpet will sound and de devil and all de ghosts will be chained and they can't romp 'round de old river and folks houses in de night time and bring sorrow and pain in de wake of them big tracks."

Project #-1655 Gyland H. Hamlin Charleston, S.C.

FOLKLORE

INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE

"Good a'ternoon, suh. Yassuh, I'ze gittin' on up in de years. I be eighty-one year ole nex' May. I name John Hamilton an' I lib at sickty-t'ree Amherst Street.

"I 'member sumptin' 'bout slabery. I wuz 'bout big as dat gal gwine dere w'en de Fed'rul war broke out," indicating a child, passing down the street who appeared to be about eight years old.

"I belong' to Maussa Seabrook, an' he lib at W'ite Point, ten mile from Adams Run. De Maussa, he been daid but he got some boys. Dem boys all scatter', dough. Yassuh, ole Maussa treat us good. I not big 'nough to wuk, I jus' a li'l boy den. My fadder name' Rhode Hamilton, an' 'e hab two acre to wuk. Dere didn't been no hoss, an' 'e grub it wid de hoe.

"Some slabes no good an' not satisfy fo' tuh wuk. Dey run 'way fum de plantation. Dere been big dawgs high as street-cyar, yassuh, high as dat street-cyar. Dey name' nigger-dawg an' dey trace nigger an' put dem nigger back to wuk. Dere been Yankee man name' Tom Cudry. I kin sho' de house 'e been in. He say 'e tired see colored mans wuk hard an' git nuttin'. He put colored mans on banjoo (vendue) table an' 'e be free.

"I didn't be marry till I git in my t'irty year. My wife, she 'bout sickty-fibe year ole'. We got fibe chillun libbin', 'bout twelbe haid in all. Grand-chillun? 'Bout sebben haid an' one gal. Hab great grand-chillun, too.

"I ain't been know nuttin' 'bout jailhouse. Ain't see a jailhouse in my life. I hab to look all day to find one in Charleston, an' don't know where 'bouts de court-house. Ain't gwine to jailhouse. Nobody hab to 'rest me no how.

"I be a Babtis'. I babtize' in de ribber, de Edisto ribber. I tryin' git to Hebben. Hebben be glory. Yassuh, Hebben be glory. You got to lub all God's chillun to git dere. God send w'ite folks an' colored folks, an' dey mus' he'p each odder an' wuk togedder. Dey got to lib in union. Yassuh, got to lib in union to git to Hebben.

"I 'pend on de w'ite folks to he'p me. Dese pore colored folks ain't got nuttin'. Nawsuh, I ain't be too ole to wuk an' mek a honest libbin' like lot o' dem no good nigger what too stiff fo' to speak. I wuk some flower-yard fo' some w'ite folks, an' I wuk a li'l gyarden.

"Yassuh, I hol' up berry well, but I can't see at night w'en de sun go down. My sight gone back den. I got git 'long now.

"You gimme a nickel or dime? T'ank you, suh. T'ank you kin'ly."

=Source:= Personal interview with John Hamilton, colored, of 63 Amherst Street, Charleston, S.C.

Project #-1655 Jessie A. Butler Charleston, S.C.

FOLKLORE

OLD SUSAN HAMLIN--EX SLAVE

(Verbatim Conversation)

Old Susan Hamlin, one hundred and four years old, was strolling down lower King St., about a mile from where she lives, when she was met by a white "friend," and the following conversation took place:

"How are you, Susan, do you remember me?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I 'member yo face, Missus, but I can't 'member yo name. I gettin' ole. Dis eye (touching the right one) leabin' me. Ole age you know. Somet'ing got tuh gie way."

"Don't you remember I came to see you one morning, and you told me all about old times?"

"Yes, Ma'am, (with enthusiasm) come tuh see me 'gain, I tell you some mo'. I like tuh talk 'bout dem days; 'taint many people left now kin tell 'bout dat time. Eberybody dead. I goes 'round tuh de ole house, an' I t'ink 'bout all dem little chillen I is nuss, (calling them by name) dey all sleep, all sleep in de groun'. Nobody lef' but ole Susan. All my fambly, de massa, de missus, all de little chillen, all sleep. Only me one lef', only ole Susan. Sometime I wonder how it is. I ober a hund'ed, I stahtin' (starting) tuh forgit de years."

"Tell me one thing, Susan, you have lived a long time, do you think the young people of today are better or worse than in the old days?"

"Well, Missus, some is wuss but not all. Some stray jus' like dey always done but dey'll come back. I stray 'way myself but dey'll come back jus' like I did. Gib um time dey come back. I git converted you know."

"Yes, you told me about that."

"Yes, Ma'am, I see de Sabior. He show me hoe He die. I nebber forget dat day. Dere He hang,--so--(with arms outstretched) an' He show me de great brightness, an' He show me de big sin on my back, black as dat cyar (car). Den I pray an' I pray, an' it fall off. Den I praise Him. Nebber since dat day is I forget what I see. When I see dat reconcile Sabior countenance,--oh!--I nebber forget. No, Ma'am. I nebber forget dat reconcile countenance. As I tell yuh, I stray 'way, but not after I see dat reconcile countenance. I pray and praise Him. Sometimes all by myself I get so happy, jes t'inkin' on Him. I cyant forget all dat He done fuh me."

"People tell me I ought not walk 'round by myself so. I tell um I don't care where I drop. I 'member when my ma was dyin' I beg um not to leabe me, she say: 'Wha' I got yuh, wha' I want tuh stay yuh fuh? I want tuh go, I want tuh see muh Jesus.' I know what she mean now. I don't care if I drop in de street, I don't care if I drop in my room. I don't care where I drop, I ready tuh go."

"All you got tuh do is libe right, yuh got tuh libe (live) de life. What is de life?--Purity.--What is Purity?--Righteousness.--What is Righteousness?--Tuh do de right t'ing.--Libe right,--pray an' praise. Beliebe on de delibrin (delivering) Sabior. Trus' Him. He lead yuh. He show yuh de way. Dat all yuh got tuh do. Beliebe--pray--praise. Ebery night befo' I lay on my bed I git on my knees an' look up tuh Him. Soon I wake in de mornin' I gibe Him t'anks. Eben sometime in de day I git on my knees an' pray. He been good to me all dese years. He aint forget me. I aint been sick for ober twenty-five years. Good t'ing too, nobody left tuh tek care of me. Dey all gone. But I don't care now, jus' so I kin see my Jesus when I gone."

"I goin' down now tuh see my people I use to cook fuh. I too ole now tuh cook. I use tuh cook fine. Come tuh see me again, missus, come tuh see de ole monkey, I tell yuh mo' 'bout dose times. You know I kin 'member dem when I been a big girl, most grown, when de bombardment come ober de city."

=Source:= Writer's conversation with Susan Hamlin, 17 Henrietta Street, Charleston. S.C.

Project#-1655 Jessie A. Butler Charleston, S.C.

Approx. 1739 Words

INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE

On July 6th, I interviewed Susan Hamlin, ex-slave, at 17 Henrietta street, Charleston, S. C. She was sitting just inside of the front door, on a step leading up to the porch, and upon hearing me inquire for her she assumed that I was from the Welfare office, from which she had received aid prior to its closing. I did not correct this impression, and at no time did she suspect that the object of my visit was to get the story of her experience as a slave. During our conversation she mentioned her age. "Why that's very interesting, Susan," I told her, "If you are that old you probably remember the Civil War and slavery days." "Yes Ma'am, I been a slave myself," she said, and told me the following story:

"I kin remember some things like it was yesterday, but I is 104 years old now, and age is starting to get me, I can't remember everything like I use to. I getting old, old. You know I is old when I been a grown woman when the Civil War broke out. I was hired out then, to a Mr. McDonald, who lived on Atlantic Street, and I remembers when de first shot was fired, and the shells went right over de city. I got seven dollars a month for looking after children, not taking them out, you understand, just minding them. I did not get the money, Mausa got it." "Don't you think that was fair?" I asked. "If you were fed and clothed by him, shouldn't he be paid for your work?" "Course it been fair," she answered, "I belong to him and he got to get something to take care of me."

"My name before I was married was Susan Calder, but I married a man name Hamlin. I belonged to Mr. Edward Fuller, he was president of the First National Bank. He was a good man to his people till de Lord took him. Mr. Fuller got his slaves by marriage. He married Miss Mikell, a lady what lived on Edisto Island, who was a slave owner, and we lived on Edisto on a plantation. I don't remember de name cause when Mr. Fuller got to be president of de bank we come to Charleston to live. He sell out the plantation and say them (the slaves) that want to come to Charleston with him could come and them what wants to stay can stay on the island with his wife's people. We had our choice. Some is come and same is stay, but my ma and us children come with Mr. Fuller.

We lived on St. Philip street. The house still there, good as ever, I go 'round there to see it all de time; the cistern still there too, where we used to sit 'round and drink the cold water, and eat, and talk and laugh. Mr. Fuller have lots of servants and the ones he didn't need hisself he hired out. The slaves had rooms in the back, the ones with children had two rooms and them that didn't have any children had one room, not to cook in but to sleep in. They all cooked and ate downstairs in the hall that they had for the colored people. I don't know about slavery but I know all the slavery I know about, the people was good to me. Mr. Fuller was a good man and his wife's people been grand people, all good to their slaves. Seem like Mr. Fuller just git his slaves so he could be good to dem. He made all the little colored chillen love him. If you don't believe they loved him what they all cry, and scream, and holler for when dey hear he dead? 'Oh, Mausa dead my Mausa dead, what I going to do, my Mausa dead.' Dey tell dem t'aint no use to cry, dat can't bring him back, but de chillen keep on crying. We used to call him Mausa Eddie but he named Mr. Edward Fuller, and he sure was a good man.

"A man come here about a month ago, say he from de Government, and dey send him to find out 'bout slavery. I give him most a book, and what he give me? A dime. He ask me all kind of questions. He ask me dis and he ask me dat, didn't de white people do dis and did dey do dat but Mr. Fuller was a good man, he was sure good to me and all his people, dey all like him, God bless him, he in de ground now but I ain't going to let nobody lie on him. You know he good when even the little chillen cry and holler when he dead. I tell you dey couldn't just fix us up any kind of way when we going to Sunday School. We had to be dressed nice, if you pass him and you ain't dress to suit him he send you right back and say tell your ma to see dat you dress right. Dey couldn't send you out in de cold barefoot neither. I 'member one day my ma want to send me wid some milk for her sister-in-law what live 'round de corner. I fuss cause it cold and say 'how you going to send me out wid no shoe, and it cold?' Mausa hear how I talking and turn he back and laugh, den he call to my ma to gone in de house and find shoe to put on my feet and don't let him see me barefoot again in cold weather.

When de war start going good and de shell fly over Charleston he take all us up to Aiken for protection. Talk 'bout marching through Georgia, day sure march through Aiken, soldiers was everywhere.

"My ma had six children, three boys and three girls, but I de only one left, all my white people and all de colored people gone, not a soul left but me. I ain't been sick in 25 years. I is near my church and I don't miss service any Sunday, night or morning. I kin walk wherever I please, I kin walk to de Battery if I want to. The Welfare use to help me but dey shut down now, I can't find out if dey going to open again or not. Miss (Mrs.) Buist and Miss Pringle, dey help me when I can go there but all my own dead."

"Were most of the masters kind?" I asked. "Well you know," she answered, "times den was just like dey is now, some was kind and some was mean; heaps of wickedness went on just de same as now. All my people was good people. I see some wickedness and I hear 'bout all kinds of t'ings but you don't know whether it was lie or not. Mr. Fuller been a Christian man."

"Do you think it would have been better if the Negroes had never left Africa?" was the next question I asked. "No Ma'am," (emphatically) dem heathen didn't have no religion. I tell you how I t'ink it is. The Lord made t'ree nations, the white, the red and the black, and put dem in different places on de earth where dey was to stay. Dose black ignoramuses in Africa forgot God, and didn't have no religion and God blessed and prospered the white people dat did remember him and sent dem to teach de black people even if dey have to grab dem and bring dem into bondage till dey learned some sense. The Indians forgot God and dey had to be taught better so dey land was taken away from dem. God sure bless and prosper de white people and He put de red and de black people under dem so dey could teach dem and bring dem into sense wid God. Dey had to get dere brains right, and honor God, and learn uprightness wid God cause ain't He make you, and ain't His Son redeem you and save you wid His precious blood. You kin plan all de wickedness you want and pull hard as you choose but when the Lord mek up His mind you is to change, He can change you dat quick (snapping her fingers) and easy. You got to believe on Him if it tek bondage to bring you to your knees.

You know I is got converted. I been in Big Bethel (church) on my knees praying under one of de preachers. I see a great, big, dark pack on my back, and it had me all bent over and my shoulders drawn down, all hunch up. I look up and I see de glory, I see a big beautiful light, a great light, and in de middle is de Sabior, hanging so (extending her arms) just like He died. Den I gone to praying good, and I can feel de sheckles (shackles) loose up and moving and de pack fall off. I don't know where it went to, I see de angels in de Heaven, and hear dem say 'Your sins are forgiven.' I scream and fell off so. (Swoon.) When I come to dey has laid me out straight and I know I is converted cause you can't see no such sight and go on like you is before. I know I is still a sinner but I believe in de power of God and I trust his Holy name. Den dey put me wid de seekers but I know I is already saved."

"Did they take good care of the slaves when their babies were born?" she was asked. "If you want chickens for fat (to fatten) you got to feed dem," she said with a smile, "and if you want people to work dey got to be strong, you got to feed dem and take care of dem too. If dey can't work it come out of your pocket. Lots of wickedness gone on in dem days, just as it do now, some good, some mean, black and white, it just dere nature, if dey good dey going to be kind to everybody, if dey mean dey going to be mean to everybody. Sometimes chillen was sold away from dey parents. De Mausa would come and say "Where Jennie," tell um to put clothes on dat baby, I want um. He sell de baby and de ma scream and holler, you know how dey carry on. Geneally (generally) dey sold it when de ma wasn't dere. Mr. Fuller didn't sell none of us, we stay wid our ma's till we grown. I stay wid my ma till she dead.

"You know I is mix blood, my grandfather bin a white man and my grandmother a mulatto. She been marry to a black so dat how I get fix like I is. I got both blood, so how I going to quarrel wid either side?"

=Source:= Interview with *Susan Hamlin, 17 Henrietta Street.

NOTE * Susan lives with a mulatto family of the better type. The name is Hamlin not Hamilton, and her name prior to her marriage was Calder not Collins. I paid particular attention to this and had them spell the names for me. I would judge Susan to be in the late nineties but she is wonderfully well preserved. She now claims to be 104 years old.

S-260-264-N Project #1885 Augustus Ladson Charleston, S.C.

No. Words: 1195

EX-SLAVE 101 YEARS OF AGE

HAS NEVER SHAKEN HANDS SINCE 1863

WAS ON KNEES SCRUBBING WHEN FREEDOM GUN FIRED

I'm a hund'ed an' one years old now, son. De only one livin' in my crowd from de days I wuz a slave. Mr. Fuller, my master, who was president of the Firs' National Bank, owned the fambly of us except my father. There were eight men an' women with five girls an' six boys workin' for him. Most o' them wus hired out. De house in which we stayed is still dere with de cisterns an' slave quarters. I always go to see de old home which is on St. Phillip Street.

My ma had t'ree boys an' t'ree girls who did well at their work. Hope Mikell, my eldest bredder, an' James wus de shoemaker. William Fuller, son of our master, wus de bricklayer. Margurite an' Catharine wuz de maids an' look at de children.

My pa b'long to a man on Edisto Island. Frum what he said, his master was very mean. Pa real name wus Adam Collins but he took his master' name; he wus de coachman. Pa did supin one day an his master whipped him. De next day which wuz Monday, Pa carry him 'bout four miles frum home in de woods an' give him de same 'mount of lickin' he wus given on Sunday. He tied him to a tree an' unhitched de horse so it couldn't git tie-up an' kill a self. Pa den gone to de landin' an' catch a boat dat wus comin' to Charleston wood fa'm products. He wus permitted by his master to go to town on errands, which helped him to go on de boat without bein' question'. When he got here he gone on de water-front an' ax for a job on a ship so he could git to de North. He got de job an' sail' wood de ship. Dey search de island up an' down for him wood houndogs en w'en it wus t'ought he wus drowned, 'cause dey track him to de river, did dey give up. One of his master' friend gone to New York en went in a store w'ere Pas wus employed as a clerk. He reconize' pa is easy is pa reconize' him. He gone back home an' tell pa master who know den dat pa wusn't comin' back an' before he died he sign' papers dat pa wus free. Pa ma wus dead an' he come down to bury her by de permission of his master' son who had promised no ha'm would come to him, but dey wus fixin' plans to keep him, so he went to the Work House an' ax to be sold 'cause any slave could sell e self if e could git to de Work House. But it wus on record down dere so dey couldn't sell 'im an' told him his master' people couldn't hold him a slave.

People den use to do da same t'ings dey do now. Some marry an' some live together jus' like now. One t'ing, no minister nebber say in readin' de matrimony "let no man put asounder" 'cause a couple would be married tonight an' tomorrow one would be taken away en be sold. All slaves wus married in dere master house, in de livin' room where slaves an' dere missus an' massa wus to witness de ceremony. Brides use to wear some of de finest dress an' if dey could afford it, have de best kind of furniture. Your master nor your missus objected to good t'ings.

I'll always 'member Clory, de washer. She wus very high-tempered. She wus a mulatta with beautiful hair she could sit on; Clory didn't take foolishness frum anybody. One day our missus gone in de laundry an' find fault with de clothes. Clory didn't do a t'ing but pick her up bodily an' throw 'er out de door. Dey had to sen' fur a doctor 'cause she pregnant an' less than two hours de baby wus bo'n. Afta dat she begged to be sold fur she didn't want to kill missus, but our master ain't nebber want to sell his slaves. But dat didn't keep Clory frum gittin' a brutal whippin'. Dey whip' 'er until dere wasn't a white spot on her body. Dat wus de worst I ebber see a human bein' got such a beatin'. I t'ought she wus goin' to die, but she got well an' didn't get any better but meaner until our master decide it wus bes' to rent her out. She willingly agree' since she wusn't 'round missus. She hated an' detest' both of them an' all de fambly.

W'en any slave wus whipped all de other slaves wus made to watch. I see women hung frum de ceilin' of buildin's an' whipped with only supin tied 'round her lower part of de body, until w'en dey wus taken down, dere wusn't breath in de body. I had some terribly bad experiences.

Yankees use to come t'rough de streets, especially de Big Market, huntin' those who want to go to de "free country" as dey call' it. Men an' women wus always missin' an' nobody could give 'count of dere disappearance. De men wus train' up North fur sojus.

De white race is so brazen. Dey come here an' run de Indians frum dere own lan', but dey couldn't make dem slaves 'cause dey wouldn't stan' for it. Indians use to git up in trees an' shoot dem with poison arrow. W'en dey couldn't make dem slaves den dey gone to Africa an' bring dere black brother an' sister. Dey say 'mong themselves, "we gwine mix dem up en make ourselves king. Dats e only way we'll git even with de Indians."

All time, night an' day, you could hear men an' women screamin' to de tip of dere voices as either ma, pa, sister, or brother wus take without any warnin' an' sell. Some time mother who had only one chile wus separated fur life. People wus always dyin' frum a broken heart.

One night a couple married an' de next mornin' de boss sell de wife. De gal ma got in in de street an' cursed de white woman fur all she could find. She said: "dat damn white, pale-face bastard sell my daughter who jus' married las' night," an' other t'ings. The white 'oman treaten' her to call de police if she didn't stop, but de collud woman said: "hit me or call de police. I redder die dan to stan' dis any longer! De police took her to de work House by de white woman orders an' what became of 'er, I never hear.

W'en de war began we wus taken to Aiken, South Ca'lina w'ere we stay' until de Yankees come t'rough. We could see balls sailin' t'rough de air w'en Sherman wus comin'. Bumbs hit trees in our yard. W'en de freedom gun wus fired, I wus on my 'nees scrubbin'. Dey tell me I wus free but I didn't b'lieve it.

In de days of slavery woman wus jus' given time 'nough to deliver dere babies. Dey deliver de baby 'bout eight in de mornin' an' twelve had too be back to work.

I wus a member of Emmanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church for 67 years. Big Zion, across de street wus my church before den an' before Old Bethel w'en I lived on de other end of town.

Sence Lincoln shook hands with his assasin who at de same time shoot him, frum dat day I stop shakin' hands, even in de church, an' you know how long dat wus. I don't b'lieve in kissin' neider fur all carry dere meannesses. De Master wus betrayed by one of his bosom frien' with a kiss.

=Source:=

Interview with (Mrs.) Susan Hamilton, 17 Henrietta Street, who claims to be 101 years of age. She has never been sick for twenty years and walks as though just 40. She was hired out by her master for seven dollars a month which had to be given her master.

Project #1655 Stiles M. Scruggs Columbia, S.C.

ANSON HARP EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.

Anson Harp, eighty-seven years old, lives out in the country on Route #3. He still works on the few acres he owns, raising vegetables for himself and a few baskets to sell. He is a gray-haired, medium sized man and his geniality is frequently noticed by white and Negro friends who know him.

"I was born in Mississippi in 1850, on a big plantation dat b'long to Master Tom Harp. I can see dat big rushin' river now, 'ceptin' the mosquitoes. My daddy and mammy b'long to Master Harp and we live in a cabin 'bout a mile from the big house of my master's home.

"One day when the slaves was choppin' cotton, a strange white man come and watch us, and in a day or two me and three other chillun was called in the yard of the big house and told we goin' to git to go wid the stranger. My daddy and mammy and the other chillun's daddy and mammy all cry when we was put in a big wagon and carried 'way to somewhere.

"We gits plenty of rations on the way and when we gits to Aiken one mornin', we was told we was close to home and soon we was on the big plantation of Master James Henry Hammond. We find other boys there, too. We go to the fields and chop cotton, after we rest up. No sah, we wasn't flogged often. One time the grown men and women was choppin' two rows to our one, and a straw-boss slave twit us and call us lazy. The white overseer, who was riding by, heard him. He shake his whip at the straw-boss and tell him: 'The young niggers not yet 'spected to make a half hand and you do pretty well to 'tend to your own knittin'.

"I been there for a pretty long time befo' I really talks to my great white master, James Henry Hammond. He not at home much, and when he was home, many big white men wid him 'most every day.

"One Saturday, we always had a half holiday on Saturday, me and my friends 'bout the same age, was playin' a game on a big lot behind the barn. We quit yellin' and playin' when we see Master Hammond and three or four white men at the barn. They was lookin' at and talkin' 'bout Master Hammond's big black stallion. Master Hammond lead him out of the stall and he stand on his hind feet.

"'Well Senator,' says one big man to Master Hammond, 'I has come a long ways to see this famous hoss. It's no wonder he was s'lected as a model for the war hoss of General Jackson. I seen his statue in Washington and Nashville.'

"'And I see him in New Orleans', says another big man, in a fine black slick suit.

"'I 'clare, Governor', says the other big man, also dressed just lak he goin' to church, 'this grand stallion look today well as he did when I use him for my model'.

"Then they all pat the hoss's nose and stroke him down his mane, and the big buckra hoss steps, just lak the fine gentlemen he is, back to his stall, while all the big men wave him goodbye!

"No, I not take the name of Hammond after we free, 'cause too many of his slaves do. I kept the name of my old master and the one my daddy and mammy had. No, I never hear of them in Mississippi. Lak as not they was sold and taken far away, lak me.

"I was eleven in 1861, when the war start, 'cordin' to my count. Master Hammond was hardly ever at home no more. He, too, was angry at President Lincoln and I love my master, so I used to wonder what sort of man the President was. My Master Hammond sure did honor President Davis. I hear him say once, dat President Davis was a Chesterfield and dat the Lincoln fellow is coarse and heartless.

"In 1862 I was twelve years old, big for my age, and I do more than half as much work as any grown slave. At dat time we see many free niggers, and nearly all of them sorry lookin'. They eat off of slave families, when they could git it.

"I come to Columbia in 1865, after all the niggers everywhere am set free. I work for white folks 'bout town and when the Freedman's aid was set up, I goes 'long wid some new found friends to the aid headquarters, and was the last one to be heard. The others got bundles of food and I see one git a piece of money, too. When I got to the white man in charge, he eye me and zay: 'What damn rebel did you slave for?' I forgot 'bout what I am there for and I say: 'I never slave for no damn rebel. I work for Governor Hammond and he is the finest buckra that is.'

"Then the aid man say: 'Dat damn rebel Hammond and all lak him yet unhung, should be, and you wid him. Go let him feed and clothe you! When you come here again maybe you have 'nough sense to ask for favors decent.' I so mad, I hardly 'member just what happen, 'ceptin' I come 'way just lak I go, empty handed.

"I am now an old man, as you see, but I am happy to know dat the white folks has always been ready to help me make a livin'. I now own a patch of ground, where I makes a livin' on the shares. My boy, a son by my second wife, works it, and he takes care of me now. If I had been as big, and knowed as much at the start of the war as I did at the end of it, I would surely have gone to the front wid my white master."

Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 May 25, 1937

Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"I was born in Fairfield County, S.C. near Broad River. I was de son of John and Harriet Harper. I worked in slavery time and was a slave of John Stanley who was a good man and easy to work with. He give me a good whipping once when I was a boy. We earned no money but had our place to sleep and something to eat and wear. We didn't have any gardens, but master had a big plantation and lots of slaves, and worked a garden himself. I remember he whipped mother once the last year of the war,--just about to get freedom.

"Master belonged to patrollers, and let dem come on the place and punish the slaves if needed. They whipped my sister once. He had a house to lock slaves in when dey was bad. He learned us to read and write. He had a school on de plantation for his niggers. After the days work was over, we frolicked, and Saturday afternoons we had off to do what we wanted. We had to go to the white folks church and set in back of de church. Corn shuckings, cotton picking and carding and quilting, the old folks had when dey had big times and big eats.

"Weddings and funerals of slaves were about like white folks. Some would go walking and singing to de grave in back of hearse or body. There was a conjurer in our neighborhood who could make you do what he wanted, sometimes he had folks killed. The Yankees marched through our place, stole cattle, and meat. We went behind dem and picked up lots dat dey dropped when dey left. When de war was over, de niggers was promised small farms but dey didn't get 'em.

"I have been preaching many years in colored Methodist churches. I have 7 children, 22 grand-children but no great-grand-children.

"I think Abraham Lincoln was a great man, and Jefferson Davis, too. Booker Washington was a grand educator for the colored race. Bishop S.D. Chappell, colored preacher of the A.M.E. church South, one time president of Allen University at Columbia, S.C. was a great colored man, too. He went to Nashville, Tenn. as secretary-treasurer of the Sunday School Union.

"I don't believe slavery was good--much better for all of us now.

"I joined the church when I was young, because I thought it right to be a member. I think everybody ought to join some church, and they ought to join early in life, when quite young."

=Source:= Rev. Thomas Harper (84), Newberry, S.C., interviewed by: G.L. Summer, Newberry, S.C. May 21, 1937.

Project #1555 W.W. Dixon Winnsboro, S.C.

ABE HARRIS EX-SLAVE 74 YEARS OLD.

Abe Harris lives about nine miles southwest of the town of Winnsboro, South Carolina. His home is a two-room frame house, with rock chimneys of rough masonry at each gable end. It is the property of Mr. Daniel Heyward. Abe is one-fourth white and this mixture shows in his features. He is still vigorous and capable of light manual labor.

"My father was Samuel Lyles. My mother's name was Phenie Lyles. My father and mother had fifteen chillun. I am de only one livin'. De last one to die was my brother, Stocklin, that tended to de flowers and gardens of people in Winnsboro for many years. He was found dead, one mornin', in de Fortune Park woods.

"My parents b'long to Captain Tom Lyles, in slavery time. Father was de hog man. He 'tended to de hogs; didn't pasture them as they do now. Marster had a drove of eighty or more in de fall of de year befo' hog killin' time. They run 'bout in de woods for acorns and hickory nuts and my father had to keep up wid them and bring them home. He pen them, feed them, and slop them at night.

"My white folks was de fust white settlers in de county. De fust one was name Ephram, so I hear them tell many times. They fought in all wars dat have been fought. My old marster, Tom, live up 'til de Civil War and although he couldn't walk, he equip and pay a man to go in his place. When Sherman's men come to de house, he was in bed wid a dislocated hip. They thought he was shammin', playin' 'possum, so to speak. One of de raiders, a Yankee, come wid a lighted torch and say: 'Unless you give me de silver, de gold, and de money, I'll burn you alive.' Him reply: 'I haven't many more years to live. Burn and be damned!' De Yankee was surprised at his bravery, ordered father to take de torch from under de bed and say: 'You 'bout de bravest man I ever see in South Carolina.'

"His wife, old Miss Mary, was sister to Congressman Joe Woodward. Deir house and plantation was out at Buckhead. I was a boy eleven years old and was in de house when he died, in 1874. He was de oldest person I ever saw, eighty-seven. He had several chillun. Thomas marry Eliza Peay, de baby of Col. Austin Peay, one of de rich race horse folks. Marse Boykin marry Miss Cora Dantzler of Orangeburg. Him went to de war. Then Nicholas, Austin, John, and Belton, all went to de Civil War. Austin was killed at second Bull Run. Marse Nicholas go to Alabama and become sheriff out dere. Marse John marry Miss Morris and was clerk of court here for twenty-eight years.

"One of Marse John's sons is Senator Lyles, de cotton buyer here in Winnsboro. De youngest boy, just a lad at freedom, marry Miss Cora Irby. Two of deir chillun marry Marse Jim and Marse Bill Mobley in Columbia. De youngest child, Miss Rebecca marry Marse DuBose Ellison in Winnsboro.

"First time I marry Emily Kinlock and had one child. Emily die. Then I marry Lizzie Brown. Us had six chillun. When Lizzie die, I marry a widow, Frances Young. Us too old to have chillun.

"I live at Rion, S.C. Just piddle 'round wid chickens and garden truck. I sells them to de stone cutters and de mill people of Winnsboro. I's past de age to work hard, and I'm mighty sorry dat our race was set free too soon."

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

ELI HARRISON EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS.

Eli Harrison lives on a small ten-acre tract of land near Dutchman Creek, in Fairfield County, approximately seven miles southeast of Winnsboro. The house, which he owns, is a small shack or shanty constructed of scantlings and slabs. He lives in it alone and does his own cooking. He has been on the relief roll for the past three years, and ekes out a subsistence on the charity of the Longtown and Ridgeway people. He is small, wiry, and healthy, weighing about 110 pounds.

"I sure has had a time a finding you! I was up here to Winnsboro befo' dis Welfare Society, tryin' to git a pension and they ask me who know my age. I tell them a whole lot of people out of town knows it. Then they ask if anybody in town know my age. I gived in your name. They say they will take your affidavit for it and tell me to bring dis paper to you.

"I b'long, in slavery, to your step-mother's people, de Harrisons, in Longtown. You 'members comin' down when I was a young man and you was a boy? Don't you 'member us playin' in de sand in front of de old Harrison house? Dat house older than you and me. 'Member how I show you how to call de doodles from de sand? How was it? I just git down on my hands and knees in de sand and say: 'Doodle, doodle, doodle, doodle, come up your house is afire!' Them black little doodles would come right up out of de sand to see what gwine on up dere 'bove de sand. Mighty glad you keeps dat in your mem'ry, 'til dis blessed day.

"I b'long to old Marse Eli Harrison, de grandpa of your step-mother. I was born and raised on his Wateree River plantation. They called it Harrison Flats, 'til de Southern Power Company and de Dukes taken over de land, de river, de bull-frogs, de skeeters, whoop owls, and everything else down here. De Harrisons owned dat place befo' de Revolutionary War, they say. De skeeters run them out and de folks built a string of houses out of logs, all 'long de roadside and call it Longtown. Marse John D. tell me dat, and fust thing you know they was callin' it Longtown and dats what it's called today.

"Old Marse Eli is a quiet man but him have two brudders dat wasn't so quiet. They was Marse Aaron Burr Harrison and Marse John R. Harrison. All of them have race horses. I, bein' little, ride de horses in de races at de last. De tracks I ride on? One was up near Great Falls, 'tween old Marse Strother Fords and de Martin place. De other was out from Simpsons' Turn Out. De Hamptons used to have horses on dese tracks.

"My mistress name Mary. My young marsters name: Sylvester, Lundsford, David, and John D. They all dead but de old house is still dere on de roadside and I alone is live to tell de tale.

"Dere's one thing I wants to tell you 'bout old Marse John. Him was 'suaded by de Hamptons, to buy a big plantation in Mississippi. Him go out dere to raise cattle, race horses, cotton, sugar cane and niggers. When him die, after so long a time they take him out of his grave. De Harrisons done built a long, big, rock, family vault in de graveyard here to put all de dead of de family name in. Well, what you reckon? Why when dat coffin reach Ridgeway and they find it mighty heavy for just one man's body, they open it and find Marse John's body done turned to solid rock. What you think of dat? And what you think of dis? They put him in de vault in de summertime. Dat fall a side show was goin' on in Columbia, showin' a petrified man, you had to pay twenty-five cents to go in and see it. De show leave and go up North. 'Bout Christmas, de family go together to de vault, open it, and bless God dat rock body done got up and left dat vault. What you think 'bout dat? What people say? Some say one thing, some say another. Niggers all 'low, 'Marse John done rose from de dead.' White folks say: 'Somebody done stole dat body of Marse John and makin' a fortune out of it, in de side show line.'

"Well, I's told you 'nough for one day. I's impatient to git back down yonder to them white ladies wid dis paper, so as to speed up dat pension as fast as I used to speed up them race horses I use to ride on de old race track road from Simpson's to Columbia."

Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 Sept. 20, 1937

Edited by: Elmer Turnage

REMINISCENCES

"I was born July 16, 1852 at Jeter's old mill place in Santuc township. The Neal's Shoal dam now marks the site of the old Jeter mill. My family consisted of my parents and an older brother. My mother was Mandy Clark of Union township. My grandfather Clark moved to the Jeter mill and ran it for Mr. Jeter. My father, Tom Clark, was a laborer for the Jeters and old man Tom Sims up on Broad River at what was then known as Simstown. The Tom Sims and Nat Gist families owned everything in Santuc township until their lands hit the Jimmie Jeter place.

"When I was twelve, my father went to the Confederate War. He joined the Holcombe Legion of Union County and they went immediately to Charleston. They drilled near the village of Santuc in what was then called Mulligan's Old Field, now owned by Rion Jeter. This was the only mustering ground in our part of the county. The soldiers drilled once a week, and for the 'general muster, all of the companies from Sedalia and Cross Keys come there once a month. During the summer time they had what they called general drill for a week or ten days. Of course on this occasion the soldiers camped over the field in covered wagons. Some came in buggies. Slaves, called 'wait-men' cared for the stock and did the cooking and other menial duties for their masters.

"The general store at Santuc and the store at the Cross Roads at Fish Dam did good business during the summer while the soldiers were in camp. The 'cross roads' have long been done away with at Fish Dam. The store was under a big oak in front of the house now owned and lived in by W. H. Gist. The Cross Roads were made by the Fish Dam Ferry Road and the old Ninety-Six Road. They tell me that the old Ninety-Six Road was started as an Indian trail by the Cherokee Indians, way yonder before the Revolution. I have been told that a girl named Emily Geiger rode that ninety-six miles in one day to carry a message to an American general. The message kept the general and his army from being captured by the red-coats.

"Near the Kay Jeter place just below the Ninety-six road there was a small drill ground. The place is now known as the Pittman place and is owned by the wife of Dr. J. T. Jeter of Santuc, I believe. Mr. 'Kay' would send a slave on a horse or a mule to notify the men to come and drill there. From here they went on to Mulligan's Field some five or six miles away for the big drills. As I have told you, Mulligan's Field was the big field for all that countryside. They tell me that the same drilling tactics used then and there, are the same used right down yonder at Camp Jackson.

"For about four of five years after the Confederate War, we had very little to eat. We had given everything we could to the soldiers. After the 'May Surrender' there came a big flood and washed everything away, and the crops were so promising that August. As you know, that was in '65. The rains and the high water destroyed everything. I do not believe that Broad River and the Forest and Tyger have ever been as high before or since.

"On Henderson's Island they saved no livestock at all. They just did manage to save themselves. They had a hard time getting the slaves to the mainland. Mrs. Sallie Henderson, her step-son, Jack and her son, Jim, and daughter, Lyde were in the Henderson house when the freshet came down upon them. They had to go up on the second floor of their house but the water came up there.

"Mr. Ben Hancock was the ferryman at Henderson's Ferry at this time. Now you know, Henderson's Ferry is on the Enoree just above where it empties into the Broad. Henderson's Island is in the middle of Broad River in full sight of where old Enoree goes into the channel of the Broad. Well, Mr. Hancock was the best boatman in his day. He knew about the Hendersons, so he tried to go to them but failed the first three times. The fourth time, he got to the house. When he got there, he found the whites and twenty-five slaves trapped with them.

"A barrel of flour had caught in the stairway that had washed down the river from somewhere above. This was pulled upstairs and that is what Mrs. Henderson fed her family and slaves on for about five days, or until they were rescued by Mr. Hancock. Capt. Jack blew his opossum horn every two hours throughout the day and night to let the people over on the mainland know that they were still safe.

"For the rest of that year, river folks had very little to eat until food crops were produced the next spring.

"My own father was shot down for the first time at the Second Battle of Manassas. Here he got a lick over his left eye that was about the size of a bullet; but he said that he thought the lick came from a bit of shell. They carried him to a temporary make-shift hospital that had been improvised behind the breastworks. A soldier who was recovering from a wound nursed him as best he could.

"The second time my father was wounded was in Kingston, N.C. He shot a Yankee from behind a tree and he saw the blood spurt from him as he fell. Just about that time he saw another Yankee behind a tree leveling a gun at him. Father threw up his gun but too late, the Yankee shot and tore his arm all to pieces. The bullet went through his arm and struck the corner of his mouth knocking out part of his jaw bone. Then it went under the neck vein and finally it came out on his back knocking a hole in one of his shoulder blades large enough to lay your two thumbs in. His gun stock was also cut into. He lay on the battlefield for a whole day and night; then he was carried to a house where some kind ladies acting as nurses cared for him for over four months. He was sent home and dismissed from the army just a mile below Maybinton, S.C. in Newberry County. Father was unable to do any kind of work for over two years. The war closed a year after he got home. From that time on I cared for my mother and father.

"We had moved to the plantation of Mr. Ben Maybin in Maybinton before my father was sent home wounded. Father lived until March, 1st, 1932 when he died at the ripe old age of 102. When he died we were living at one of the Jeter plantations near Kelley's Chapel, in Fish Dam township, one-half mile from Old Ninety-Six Road. Father is buried at Kelley's Chapel.

"Mr. Harvey has a bullet that Gov. Scott issued to the negroes during reconstruction times when he was governor of South Carolina under the carpetbag rule. Scott issued these bullets to the negroes to kill and plunder with. Mr. Harvey says that bullets like this one were the cause of many negroes finding their graves in the bottom of Broad River. Mr. Harvey, so it is said, is still a Ku Klux. They were the chief instruments in getting him into the County Home of Union in 1925.

"The Ku Klux made a boat twenty-five feet long to carry the negroes down the river. They would take the negroes' own guns, most of them had two guns, and tie the guns around their necks in the following manner: The barrel of one gun was tied with wire around the negro's neck, and the stock of the other gun was fastened with wire around the negro's neck. When the captain would say, 'A-M-E-N', over the side of the boat the negro went, with his guns and bullets taking him to a watery grave in the bottom of Broad River. The wooden parts of the guns would rot, and sometimes the bodies would wash down on the rocks at Neal's Shoals what was then Jeter's Old Mill. Old gun stocks have been taken from there as mementoes.

"Bill Fitzgerald was my first Ku Klux Captain. He organized the clan in Newberry. When I came to the Klan over on the Union side, Judge W. H. Wallace and Mr. Isaac McKissick were leaders.

"When we got the negroes from the county jail, the same jail that we have now, that were arrested for killing Matt Stevens, I broke the lock on the jail door. Buck Allen was the blacksmith. He held a sledge hammer under the lock while I threw a steel hammer overhanded on the lock to break it.

"I think Abe Lincoln would have done the South some good if they had let him live. He had a kind heart and knew what suffering was. Lee would have won the war if the mighty Stonewall Jackson had lived. Stonewall was ahead of them all. I had two uncles, Jipp and Charlie Clark in Stonewall's company. They would never talk much about him after his death. It hurts them too much, for Stonewall's men loved him so much. Jeff Davis was a great man, too."

=Source:= Mr. Charlie Jeff Harvey, Rt. 4, Box 85, Union, S.C. Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 8/18/35.

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

ELIZA HASTY EX-SLAVE 85 YEARS OLD.

Eliza Hasty lives with her son-in-law and her daughter, Philip Moore and Daisy Moore, in an old time ante bellum home. It has two stories, eight rooms, and front and back piazzas, supported by slender white posts or columns. It is the old William Douglas homestead, now owned by John D. Mobley. He rents it to Philip Moore, a well behaved Negro citizen, who, out of respect for his mother-in-law, Eliza, supports her in the sore trials and helplessness of blindness and old age. The home is five miles southeast of Blackstock, S.C.

"Boss, you is a good lookin' man, from de sound of your voice. Blind folks has ways of findin' out things that them wid sight know nothin' 'bout and nobody can splain. De blindness sharpens de hearin', 'creases de tech, prickles de skin, quickens de taste, and gives you de nose of a setter, pointer or hound dog. Was I always blind? Jesus, no! I just got de 'fliction several years ago. I see well enough, when I was a young gal, to pick out a preacher for my fust husband. So I did! How many times I been married? Just two times; both husbands dead. Tell you 'bout them directly.

"What dat? Er ha, ha, ha, ha, er ha, ha, ha! Oh Jesus, you makes me laugh, white folks! De idea of my lossin' my sight a lookin' 'round for a third husband! You sho' is agreeable. Ain't been so tickled since de secon' time I was a widow. You know my secon' husband was bad after blind tiger liquor, and harlot eyed, brassy, hussy women.

"Well, I comes down to Winnsboro today to see, I should say to find out, 'cause you know I can't see, 'bout de pension they is givin' out to de aged and blind. My white folks say dat you wanna see me and here I is.

"Yes sir, I was born two miles south of Woodward and one mile south of old Yonguesville, on de Sterling place. I born a slave of old Marse John Sterling. Him have a head as red as a pecker-wood bird dat just de-sash-sheys 'round de top of dead trees, and make sich a rat-ta-ta-tapple after worms. His way of gittin' his meat for dinner. My mistress name Betsy. Deir fust child was Robert, dat never marry; him teach nearly every school in Fairfield County, off and on befo' he died. Then dere was young Marster Tom, small little man, dat carry his Seceeder 'ligion so far, him become 'furiated and carry dat 'ligion right up and into de Secession War. Make a good soldier, too! General Bratton call him, 'My Little Jackass of de Sharp Shooters'! Marse Tom proud of dat name, from de mouth of a great man lak General John Bratton.

"Marse Tom heard de fust gun fire at Fort Sumter, and laid down his gun, him say, under a big horse apple tree at 'Applemattox'.

"Miss Sallie, one of de chillun, marry Mr. Chris Elder, of Blackstock. Miss Hepzibah, they call her Heppie, marry a man named Boyd, in Chester County. Miss Mary Izabella, they call her Bell, marry Marse John Douglas; they are de 'cestors of dat very angel whose house us is settin' in right dis minute. Her name is Martha but when grown-up, they sublet (meaning change) dat name to Mattie, and when her marry, her become Mrs. Thomas P. Bryson. Her is a widow, just lak I is a widow. De only difference is, I's black and her is white. Her can see well enough to run after and ketch another man, but I's blind and can't see a man, much less chase after him. So dere it is! What for you laughin' 'bout? No laughin' business wid me.

"My pappy no b'long to Marse John Sterling: him slave of de Stinsons. Have to git a pass to come to see my mammy, Mary. Him name Aleck. After de war him take de name of Alexander Roseboro. Him lak a big long name dat would make folks set up and take notice of him.

"Us live in a little log-house wid a dirt floor. Us had mighty poor beds, I tell you. Us just had planks to lay de wheat straw mattress on. Pillows? De pillows was just anything you could snatch and put under your head. Yes sir, us had plenty to eat.

"They 'struct us in de short catechism, make us go to church, and sit up in de gallery and jine in de singin' on Sundays. Us was well 'tended to when sick. Marster didn't have many slaves. 'Members only two they have, 'sides us; they was Uncle Ned and Cindy. Seem lak dere was another. Oh yes! It was Fred, a all 'round de creation boy, to do anything and everything. He was a sorta shirt-tail boy dat pestered me sometime wid goo-goo eyes, a standin' in de kitchen door, drappin' his weight from one foot to de other, a lookin' at me while I was a churnin' or washin' de dishes. Dat boy both box-ankle and knock-kneed. When you hear him comin' from de horse lot to de house, his legs talk to one another, just lak sayin': 'You let me pass dis time, I let you pass nex' time.' I let you know I had no time for dat ape! When I did git ready to marry, I fly high as a eagle and ketch a preacher of de Word! Who it was? Him was a Baptis' preacher, name Solomon Dixon. 'Spect you hear tell of him. No? Well, him b'long, in slavery time, to your Aunt Roxie's people in Liberty Hill, Kershaw County. You 'members your Aunt Roxie dat marry Marse Ed D. Mobley, her fust cousin, don't you?

"I love Solomon and went down under de water to be buried wid him in baptism, I sho' did, and I come up out of dat water to be united wid him in wedlock. When us marry, him have on a long-tail coat, salt and pepper trousers, box-toed shoes, and a red lead pencil over his ear, just as long as de one I 'spects you is writin' wid, tho' I can't see it.

"How I dressed? I 'members 'zactly. I wore a blue worsted shirt, over a red underskirt, over a white linen petticoat wid tuckers at de hem, just a little long, to show good and white 'long wid de blue of de skirt and de red of de underskirt. Dese all come up to my waist and was held together by de string dat held my bustle in place. All dis and my corset was hid by de snow white pleated pique bodice, dat drapped gracefully from my shoulders. 'Round my neck was a string of green jade beads. I wore red stockin's and my foots was stuck in soft, black, cloth, gaiter shoes.

"My go-away-hat was 'stonishment to everybody. It was made out of red plush velvet and trimmed wid white satin ribbons. In de front, a ostrich feather stood up high and two big turkey feathers flanked de sides. Oh, de treasures of memory to de blind. I's happy to sit here and talk to you 'bout dat day! I sho' is!

"Us live at Marse John Douglas for a time and dat's where my fust child was born. I name her for your Aunt Roxie, tho' I give her de full name, Roxanna Dixon. Her marry John Craig. They live on your grandpa Woodward's old Nickey place, four miles southeast of Blackstock. I had another baby and I name her Daisy. Her marry Philip Moore. I lives wid them in de old William Douglas mansion. Nearly all de white folks leavin' de country dese days and de colored folks gits de fine country houses to live in.

"Well, after de years fly by, my husband, Solomon, go to de mansion prepared for him and me in hebben. I wait a year and a day and marry William Hasty. Maybe I was a little hasty 'bout dat, but 'spects it was my fate. Him drink liquor and you know dat don't run to de still waters of peace and happiness in de home. Him love me, I no doubt dat, but he get off to de bar room at Blackstock, or de still house in bottom lands, get drunk and spend his money. De Bible say dat kind of drowsiness soon clothe a man in rags. Him dead now. God rest his soul!

"De Yankees come. They took notice of me! They was a bad lot dat disgrace Mr. Lincoln dat sent them here. They insult women both white and black, but de Lord was mindful of his own.

"I knows nothin' else to tell you, 'less you would be pleased to hear 'bout what de cyclone did to my old missus and de old Sterling house. Somewhere 'bout 1880's one of them super knockshal (equinoctial) storms come 'long, commencin' over in Alabama or Georgia, crossed de Savannah River, sweep through South Carolina, layin' trees to de ground, cuttin' a path a quarter of a mile wide, as it traveled from west to east. Every house it tech, it carry de planks and shingles and sills and joists 'way wid it. De old Sterling house was in de path. Dere was a big oak tree in de front yard. Old miss and her son, Robert, was dere and Miss Heppie, a granddaughter, was in dat house. De storm hit dat house 'bout 9 o'clock dat night and never left a bit of it, 'cept some of de bricks. Some of de logs and sills was found de nex' day over at de other side of de railroad track. Some of de planks was found six miles east, some of de shingles across Catawba River, 25 miles east, and curious to say, de wind blowed old miss against de big oak tree and kill her. It blowed Miss Heppie in de top of dat tree where she was settin' a cryin' and couldn't git down, and it never harm a hair of Marse Robert's head. Him look 'round for Miss Heppie, couldn't find her, went off to get help, and when they come back, they have to git a ladder from old Mr. Bob Mobley's house to git her down.

"Well, here comes my daughters. I hear one outside but I bet you don't hear a thing. Dats deir steps I hear. Glad for you to meet them. They is mighty fine gals, if I do have to say so. They come up wid good white folks, de Mills'. Marse Jim Mills have family prayer in de mornin' and family prayer befo' they go to bed. Dat was de fust thing wid him and de last thing wid de Mills' family. If all de families do dat way, dere would be de answer to de prayer, 'Dy kingdom come, Dy will be done, on earth, as 'tis in hebben'.

"Well, give me my stick. Here they is. I bids you goodbye and God bless you."

Reference:

Personal interview with Aunt Dolly Haynes, age 91 Arthurtown, S.C.

AUNT DOLLY HAYNES EX-SLAVE, 91 YEARS OLD, ARTHURTOWN S.C.

"I nebber wuz no rockin' chair setter. I ain't nebber had no time to set down and do nuthin'. I wuz born at Euta, South Carolina. We belong to Marse Charlie Baumer. My Ma died and lef four motherless chillun but de missus wuz mighty good to us--call us her chillun. Pa rung de bell on de plantation fur ter wake de slaves up fur to go to de fiel'. My Missus wuz blind but she wuz a mighty kin' lady. Mek de cook bring plate of vittals to see ef it wuz heavy nough for her little chillun.

"After freedom all us moved wid de Marse and Missus to Childs, South Carolina and I mar'd Paul Haynes, who belonged to old Colonel Hampton.

"Paul wanted to preach but nedder of us had no learnin' an' I say to Paul, 'Does you think you got nough learnin' to lead a flock of people? I don' wan' you to git up an' mek me shame.' I tell him to go to de Benedicts an' see what book he needs to study, come by town bring me a pair of broggans for me, 'cause I wuz a-gwine to wuk and he wuz a-gwine to school. For t'ree long years I plowed de farm an' sent Paul to de Benedicts 'til he wuz edicated. De briars cut my legs an' de breshes tore my skirt, but I tuck up de skirt an' plow right on 'til I bought my little farm. Paul bin dead now 'bout twelve years, but he preached right up to de day he died.

"I got a neffu but I lives alone, wen deys some one in de house I puts down and dey picks up--I cleans up and dey tears up. I don' owe nobody nuthin'. Wen de nurvus spells leaves me an' I feels a little strong in de legs I wuks mah garden. I loves to be doin' somethin' to keep clean, 'cause I jes ain't no rockin chair setter".

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, November 11, 1937

Reduced from ---- words Rewritten by ----

LINEY HENDERSON EX-SLAVE, 70 YEARS

"Accordin to de way dey figures up my age, dey say I 70 now en I believes dat right, too, en de government ought to give me somethin. When we was born, de white folks put us chillun age down in de Bible en I know from dat I been 19 years old de year of de shake. Cose I gets clothes give to me, but no help no more den dat en all dis here wood en coal bill put on me. No, mam, ain' got no support to help me out no time. But justice will plum de line some day. I just gwine leave it in de hands of de Lord. Ain' gwine cry over it."

"I tell you, I been wid white folks all my days en I was properly cared for long as I been in dey protection. I suffers now more den I is ever think bout would come to me. Yes, mam, I done raise over 20 head of white chillun. Dat de God truth. I been in de white folks kitchen all my days en if I feel right, I think dey ought to take of me in my old age. I don' brag on myself, but if I could work like I used to, I wouldn' ax nothin from nobody. I had a family of white people to send for me de other week to come en live wid dem en dey would take care of me, but I never had nobody to trust aun' Sallie wid. You see, child, she such a helpless, poor creature just settin dere in dat bed all de time en can' see to do one thing widout I give her my hand. Cose de government helps aun' Sallie, but dat ain' me. En, honey, I ain' even able to stand up en iron, I has dis rheumatism so bad. It hurts me so terrible at night, I has to keep my foots out from under de cover. It a sort of burnin rheumatism like. Yes, mam, it does worry me right smart."

"Oh, my Lord, I was raise down dere to old Dr. Durant plantation. Yes, mam, dem Durants had everything right to dey hand. Never had to want for a glass of water or nothin en didn' none of Dr. Durant's colored people never had no trouble wid de law from de time de law take care to dis. I remember old Massa would always kill his plantation people a cow on de fourth of July en couldn' never count de number of hogs dey would have, dere be so many. Honey, dey would take dem hogs up dis time of de year from out de swamp en put dem in dey fattenin pen. Lord, Lord, de many a time dat I been see dem take bucket on a bucket of milk to dat pen. When my mother was dere helpin dem, dey used to been a week to a time tryin up lard en makin blood puddin en sausage en joinin up ears en things like dat. Yes, mam, all dey plantation niggers what been helpin dat day set for hog killin would eat to de white folks yard. Dey would just put two or three of dese big wash pot out in de yard en full dem up wid backbone en haslets en rice to satisfy dem hungry niggers wid en would bake de corn bread to de Missus kitchen. I mean dey would have hog killin days den, too. Would have dese long old benches settin out dere under de trees to work on--long benches, child. Some days, dey would kill 15 hogs en some days, dey would kill 20 hogs en I mean dey was hogs, not pigs. De number dey would kill would be accordin to how many hands was helpin de day dey pick to kill. You see, dey would kill dem one day en hang dem up en den dey would set de next day to cut dem up. Oh, dey would hang dem up right out to de eyes of everybody en didn' nobody never have no mind to bother nothin. My Lord, couldn' trust to do nothin like dat dese days. En dey had de nicest homemade butter en whip cream dere all de time. Seems like things was just more plentiful en dey was better in dat day en time."

"It just like I tellin you, it de way of de past, everything had to be carried out right on Dr. Durant's plantation. When freedom come here, dere couldn' no head never get dem colored people to leave from dere. Yes, mam, dey great grand-chillun dere carryin on to dis very day. Dem Durant chillun ain' never had to hunt for no hand to do somethin for dem. Yes, mam, my white folks had dey own colored people graveyard what was corn crated in en it still dere right now. When one of de colored people on de plantation would die, dey white folks would be right dere to de funeral. En it de blessed truth, old Dr. Durant had his own carpenters right dere on de plantation to make de corpse boxes en line dem en all dat en dig de graves. Dat was a day, honey, en dat a day gone from here, I say."

"I ain' never been one of dese peck abouts when I was comin on cause I didn' done nothin, but nurse de white folks chillun dat was comin up. Yes, mam, I would go all bout wid de white people. Dey never didn' leave me home. Lord, de chillun what I nurse, dey got seven en eight head of chillun of dey own now. Like I been tellin you, some of dem beg me to come en live wid dem, but my God, I can' struggle wid dem chillun no more after I done wash baby breeches all my best days, so to speak. Yes, my Lord, dem chillun would get dey 10:30 lunch in de mornin en I been get mine, too. Ain' never had to work in de field in all my life. Anybody can tell you dat what know me."

"I has a little boy stayin here wid me en aun' Sallie what was give to me. I don' never think hard of de people for not fussin bout him stayin here cause he helps me so much. No, mam, I know his mother fore she die en he been stayin wid his aun' en she chillun en dey treat him mean. He been raise to himself en he can' stand no other chillun en he come home from school one day en ax me to let him stay here wid me. No, child, he ain' no trouble cause de Lord give me dat child. He can stay out dere in dat yard right by himself en play all day fore he would ever get dirty up."

"Well, I tell you, I don' know hardly what to say bout how de world gwine dese days. I just afraid to say bout it. I know one thing, I used to live better, but President Roosevelt, seem like he tryin to do de right thing. But if I could be de whole judge of de world, I think de best thing would be for de people to be on dey knees en prayin. De people talkin bout fightin all de time en dis here talk bout fightin in de air, dat what got my goat. Might lay down at night sound en wake up in de mornin en find us all in destructiveness. I say, de Lord all what can save dis country."

=Source:= Liney Henderson, age 70, colored, Marion, S.C. Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Nov., 1937.

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

JIM HENRY EX-SLAVE 77 YEARS OLD.

Jim Henry lives with his wife, Mary, in a four-room frame house, three miles southeast of Winnsboro, S.C. He owns the house and nine acres of land. He has only one arm, the other having been amputated twenty years ago. He employs a boy to plough, and he and his wife make a living on the property.

"I was born in the Bratton slave quarter, about six miles northeast of Winnsboro. I was born a slave of General John Bratton. He use to tell me I come from 'stinguished stock, dat he bought my father, James, from de Patrick Henry family in Virginia. Dat's de reason my pappy and us took dat name after freedom.

"My mother, Silva, and her mother, was bought from de Rutledge family in Charleston, by General Bratton. My grandfather, on my mother's side, was name Edward Rutledge. No, sir, I don't mean he was a white man; he just ginger-cake color, so my mother say. My pappy say his father was a full-blooded Indian, so, dat makes three bloods in my veins, white folks, Indian folks, and Negro folks. Derefore, us been thrifty like de white man, crafty like de Indians, and hard workin' like de Negroes.

"In slavery time, us lived in one of de nice log houses in de Bratton quarters. Our beds was pole beds, wid wheat straw ticks, and cotton pillows. De Brattons was always sheep raisers, and us had woolen blankets and woolen clothes in de winter. My mother was one of de seamstresses; she make clothes for de slaves. Course, I'm tellin' you what she tell me, mostly. I was too little to 'member much 'bout slavery time. All de little niggers run 'round in deir shirt-tails in summer time; never work any, just hunt for grapes, muscadines, strawberries, chinquapins, hickory nuts, calamus root, slippery elmer (elm) bark, wild cherries, mulberries, and red and black haws, and was as happy as de days was long.

"I just can 'member de Yankees. Don't 'member dat they was so bad. You know they say even de devil ain't as black as he is painted. De Yankees did take off all de mules, cows, hogs, and sheep, and ransack de smoke-house, but they never burnt a thing at our place. Folks wonder at dat. Some say it was 'cause General Bratton was a high 'gree mason.

"While Marse John, who was a Confederate General, was off in de war, us had overseers. They made mother and everybody go to do field. De little chillun was put in charge, in de daytime, wid an old 'mauma', as they called them in them days. Dere was so many, twenty-five or thirty, dat they had to be fed out of doors. At sundown they was 'sembled in a tent, and deir mammies would come and git them and take them home. Dere used to be some scrappin' over de pot liquor dat was brought out in big pans. De little chillun would scrouge around wid deir tin cups and dip into de pan for de bean, pea, or turnip pot liquor. Some funny scraps took place, wid de old mauma tryin' to separate de squallin', pushin', fightin' chillun.

"De overseers was Wade Rawls and a Mr. Timms. After freedom, us moved to Winnsboro, to Dr. Will Bratton's farm near Mt. Zion College. I went to school to Mr. Richardson and Miss Julia Fripp, white teachers employed by northern white people. I got very 'ligious 'bout dat time, but de brand got all rubbed out, when us went to work for Major Woodward. His 'ligion was to play de fiddle, go fox huntin', and ride 'round gittin' Negroes to wear a red shirt and vote de democrat ticket. I went 'long wid him and done my part. They tell a tale on Marse Tom Woodward and I 'spects it's true:

"He was runnin' for some kind of office and was goin', nex' day, up in de dark corner of Fairfield to meet people. Him hear dat a old fellow name Uriah Wright, controlled all de votes at dat box and dat he was a fox hunter to beat de band. He 'quire 'round 'bout Mr. Wright's dogs. He find out dat a dog name 'Ring Smith' was de best 'strike'. Jolly Wright was de name of de cold 'trailer', and Molly Clowney was de fastest dog of de pack. Marse Tom got all dis well in his mind, and nex' day rode up to old Mr. Wright's, 'bout dinner time.

"De old man had just come in from de field. Marse Tom rode up to de gate and say; 'Is dis Dr. Wright?' De old man say: 'Dat's what de people call me 'round here.' Marse Tom say: 'My name is Woodward. I am on my first political legs, and am goin' 'round to see and be seen, if not by everybody, certainly by de most prominent and 'fluential citizens of each section.' Then de old man say: 'Git down. Git down. You are a monstrous likely man. I'll take you in to see Pinky, my wife, and we'll see what she has to say 'bout it.'

"Marse Tom got down off his horse and was a goin' to de house talkin' all de time 'bout crops. Spyin' de dogs lyin' 'round in de shade, him say: 'Dr. Wright, I am a 'culiar man. I love de ladies and admire them much but, if you'll pardon my weakness, a fine hound dog comes nearer perfection, in my eye, than anything our Father in heaven ever made to live on this green earth!'

"'And what do you know 'bout hounds?' Old man Uriah asked, turnin' from de house and followin' Marse Tom to where de dogs was. Marse Tom set down. De whole pack come to where he was, sniffed and smelt him, and wag deir tails in a friendly way. Marse Tom say: 'What is de name of dis dog? Ring Smith, did you say, Doctor? An uncommon fine dog he seems to me. If dere be any truth in signs, he oughta be a good strike.' De old man reply: 'Good strike, did you say? If dere was 5,000 dogs here, I would bet a million dollars dat Ring Smith would open three miles ahead of the best in de bunch. And you might go befo' a trial justice and swear it was a fox, when he opened on de trail.'

"Marse Tom nex' examined de pale black and tan dog, which was Jolly Wright, de coldest trailer. Feelin' his nose and eyein' him all over, he say at last: 'Dr. Wright, I think dis is one of de most remarkable dogs I has ever seen. I would say he is de coldest trailer of your pack?'

"'Coldest, did you say? Why he can smell them after they have been along three or four weeks.' Molly Clowney was nex' picked out by Marse Tom, and come in for his turn. 'Here ought to be de apple of your eyes, Dr. Wright,' say Marse Tom, 'for if I know anything 'bout dogs, this is the swiftest animal dat ever run on four feet. Tell me now, honor bright, can't she out run anything in these parts?'

"'Run, did you say? No. She can't run a bit. But dere ain't a crow nor a turkey buzzard, dat ever crossed de dark corner, dat can hold a candle to her flyin'. I've seen her run under them and outrun deir shadows many times. Dinner is 'bout ready, and I want you to meet Pinky.'

"Marse Tom was took in de house and de old man led him 'round like a fine horse at a show or fair. 'Why, Pinky, he is smart; got more sense than all de candidates put together. He is kin to old preacher Billy Woodward, de smartest man, I heard my daddy say, in Europe, Asia, Africa, North America, or South America.' They say Marse Tom promised befo' he left to pass a bill dat no fence was to be higher than five rails, to suit fox hunters. Then de old man tell Miss Pinky to bring his fiddle, and he played 'De Devil's Dream'. When he finished, Marse Tom grab de fiddle and played: 'Hell Broke Loose In Georgia', wid such power and skill dat de old man, Uriah, hugged Miss Pinky and cut de 'Pigeon Wing' all over de floor. Marse Tom, they say, carry every vote at dat dark corner box.

"I fall in love with Mary Hall. Got her, slick as a fox. Us had ten chillun. Eight is livin'. Robert is at de Winnsboro Cotton Mills. Ed in de same place. Estelle marry a Ford, and has some land near Winnsboro. Maggie marry a Pickett. Her husband took her to Washington. John Wesley is at Greensboro. Florence marry a Barber and lives in Winston Salem, N.C. Charley is in Winnsboro. Corinne marry a McDuff and is in Winnsboro.

"Mighty glad to talk to you, and will come some day and try to bring you a 'possum. You say you would like to have one 'bout Thanksgivin' Day?"

Project 1885-1 FOLKLORE Spartanburg Dist. 4 June 1, 1937

Edited by: Elmer Turnage

STORIES FROM EX-SLAVES

"Yas Sir, my ole Marster had lots o' land, a big plantation down at Lockhart whar I was born, called de Herndon Plantation. Den he live in a big house jes' outside o' Union, called 'Herndon Terrace', and 'sides dat, he was de biggest lawyer dat was in Union.

"Furs' 'membrance was at de age o' three when as yet I couldn't walk none. My mother cooked some gingerbread. She told de chilluns to go down a hill and git her some oak bark. De furs' one back wid de bark 'ud git de furs' gingerbread cake dat was done. My sister sot me down, a sliding down de side o' her laag, atter she had carried me wid her down de side o' de hill. Dem big chaps started to fooling time away. I grab up some bark in my hand and went toddling and a crawling up to de house. My mother seed me a crawling and toddling, and she took de bark out'n my hand and let me pull up to de do'. She cook de gingerbread, and when de other chilluns got back, I was a setting up eating de furs' cake.

"She put gingerbread dough in a round oven dat had laags on hit. It looked like a skillet, but it never had no handle. It had a lid to go on de top wid a groove to hold live coals. Live coals went under it, too. Mother wanted oak chips and bark, 'cause dey made sech good hot coals and clean ashes.

"Pots biled in de back o' de chimney, a hanging from a pot rack over de blazing fire. It had pot hooks to git it down.

"Bread was cooked in a baker like de ginger cake was. Dey roasted both kinds o' 'taters in de ashes and made corn bread in de ashes and called it ash cake, den.

"Us lived in a one-room log house. Fer de larger families, dey had two rooms wid de fire place in de middle o' de room. Our'n was at de end by de winder. It had white or red oak, or pine shingles to kivver de roof wid. O' course de shingles was hand made, never know'd how to make no other'n.

"All beds was corded. Along side de railings, dar was holes bored to draw de ropes through, as dese was what dey used in dem days instead o' slats. Ropes could be stretched to make de bed lay good. Us never had a chair in de house. My paw made benches fer us to set by de fire on. Marse Zack let de overseer git planks fer us. My paw was called Lyles Herndon. We had a large plank table dat paw made. Never had no mirrows. Went to de spring to see ourselfs on a Sunday morning. Never had no sech things as dressers in dem days. All us had, was a table, benches and beds. And my paw made dem. Had plenty wood fer fire and pine knots fer lights when de fire git low or stop blazing.

"Us had tallow candles. Why ev'ybody know'd how to make taller candles in dem days, dat wudd'n nothing out de ordinary. All you had to do, was to kill a beef and take de taller from his tripe and kidneys. See, it de fat you gits and boil it out. Stew it down jes' as folks does hog lard dese days. De candle moulds was made out'n tin. Fer de wicks, all de wrapping string was saved up, and dar wasn't much wrapping string in dem times. Put de string right down de middle o' de mould and pour de hot taller all around it. De string will be de wick fer de candle. Den de moulds was laid in raal cold water so dat de taller shrink when it harden, and dis 'low de candle to drap easy from de mould and not break up. Why, it's jes' as easy to make taller candles as it is to fall off'n a log.

"Firs' lamp dat I ever seed was a tin lamp. Dat was at Dr. Bates' place in Santuc. Him and his brother, Fair, lived together. It was a little table lamp wid a handle and a flat wick. He had it in his house. I was Dr. Bates' house-boy.

"My son tuck me back to Union last year, 1936, I 'members. Nothing didn't look natual 'cept de jail. Ev'ything else look strange. Didn't see nobody I knowed, not narry living soul. Marse big white house, wid dem kallems (columns) still setting dar; but de front all growed up in pine trees. When I slave time darkey, dat front had flowers and figgers (statues), setting all along de drive from de road to de big house. T'aint like dat now.

"Atter Mr. Herndon died, I was sold at de sale at Lockhart, to Dr. Tom Bates from Santuc. He bought me fer $1800 so as dey allus told me. Marse Zack had a hund'ed slaves on dat plantation. Stout, healthy ones, brung from $1,000 on up to $2,000 a head. When I was a young kid, I heard dat he was offered $800 fer me, but he never tuck it. Dis de onliest time dat I was ever sold. Marse Zack never bred no slaves, but us heard o' sech afar off. He let his darkies marry when dey wanted to. He was a good man and he allus 'lowed de slaves to marry as dey pleased, 'cause he lowed dat God never intent fer no souls to be bred as if dey was cattle, and he never practice no sech.

"I is old and I does not realize who Marse Zack's overseer was, kaise dat been a long while. I was Dr. Bates' house-boy. I allus heard dat Dr. Bates bought my maw fer $1,500, at de same time he bought me. He give $2,000 fer my paw. My brother, Jim, was bought fer $1,800. Adolphus, 'bout fifteen years old, sold fer 'bout $1,400; and my onliest sister, Matilda, was bought fer a maid gal, but I cannot recollect fer what price. She was purty good size gal den. All o' dem is dead now but me, even all my white folks is done gone. I sees a lonely time now, but my daughter treat me kind. I live wid her now.

"Dr. Bates' brother, Fair, was single man dat live in de house wid Dr. Bates fer thirteen years. I lived in slavery fer over twenty-one years. Yas, I's twenty-one when Freedom come; and den Dr. Bates up and marry Mr. Henry Sartor's daughter, Miss Ma'y. Don't know how long she live, but she up and tuck and died; den he pop up and marry her sister, Anne. It was already done Freedom when he marry de furs' time. When he married de second time, Mr. Fair, up and went over to de Keenan place to live. He never did marry, hisself, 'though.

"As house-boy dar, I mind de flies from de table and tote dishes to and fro from de kitchen. Kitchen fer ways off from de house. James Bates, his cook. Sometime I help wash de dishes. Marse never had no big house, kaise he was late marrying. Dar wasn't no company in dem days, neither.

"Rations was give out ev'y week from de smokehouse. Twenty-five or thirty hogs was killed at de time. Lots o' sheep and goats was also killed. All our meat was raised, and us wore wooden-bottom shoes. Raised all de wheat and corn. Hogs, cows, goats and sheep jes' run wild on Tinker and Brushy Fork Creeks. On Sat'day us git one peck meal; three pounds o' meat and one-half gallon black molasses fer a person; and dat's lot mo' dan dey gits in dese days and times. Sunday morning, us git two, or maybe three pounds o' flour. Didn't know nothing 'bout no fat-back in dem times. Had sassafras and sage teas and 'dinty' tea (dinty tea is made from a wild S.C. weed).

"Marse's coachman called Tom 'Cuff', kaise he bought from old Dr. Culp. He driv two black hosses to de carriage. Marse's saddle hoss was kinder reddish. Gen'ally he do his practice on hossback. He good doctor, and carry his medicine in saddle bags. It was leather and fall on each side o' de hoss's side. When you put something in it, you have to keep it balanced. Don't never see no saddle bags; neither does you see no doctors gwine round on no hosses dese days.

"Never seed no ice in dem days 'cep in winter. Summer time, things was kept in de milk-house. Well water was changed ev'y day to keep things cool. Ev'ybody drink milk in de summer, and leave off hot tea, and de white folks only drink coffee fer dere breakfast. T'other times dey also drink milk. It bees better fer your health all de time.

"At de mouth o' Brushy Fork and Tinker Creek whar dey goes together dar is a large pond o' water. Us n'used to fish in dat pond. One day, me and Matilda tuck off a-fishing. I fell in dat pond, and when I riz up, a raft o' brush held my head under dat water and I couldn't git out no ways. 'Tilda sees my dangerment, and she jump in dat deep water and pull me from under dat raff. She couldn't swim but us both got out. Can't think no mo' today."

=Source:= Zack Herndon, Grenard St., Gaffney, S.C. (col. 93) Interviewer: Caldwell Sims, Union, S.C. 5/11/37

Project #1655 Stiles M. Scruggs Columbia S.C.

LAVINIA HEYWARD'S STORY OF SLAVERY AND RECONSTRUCTION.

Lavinia Heyward, a Negro woman 67 years old, living at 515 Marion Street, Columbia, S.C., is a daughter of ex-slaves. Her parents were Peter Jones and Rachel Bryant Jones. They married in Columbia, soon after they were freed, in 1865. Lavinia reviews her mother's experiences with a famous South Carolina family, before and after bondage, and takes a glance at Columbia's progress in the past half century.

"Sho' I's been here 67 years, and I's seen a stragglin' town of 10,000 grow from poverty to de present great city and riches. Shucks, I 'spects if you was to set me down at Broad River bridge and tell me to go home, I might git lost tryin' to find my way to where I has lived for many years. Durin' my time I's sho' seen dis city sad and glad, and I's happy to say dat it seem to be feelin' a right smart lak itself now.

"My mammy, and her daddy and mammy, was bought from de Bryants at Beaufort by de Rhett family, when my mammy was a little pickaninny. She not able to tell nothin' 'bout her 'speriences with de Bryants, but she sho' recall a lot of things after she jine de Rhetts. She live with them 'til she was just turnin' twelve years old, then she come to Columbia as a slave of Master John T. Rhett. He move here, as a refugee, in 1862. Master Rhett was not healthy 'nough to go to war but some of his folks go.

"One of Master Rhett's brothers, who was too old to go to war, march 'way to fight Yankees at Honey Hill. De Yankee fleet send an army in boats to cut de Charleston and Savannah Railroad, and de Confederates meet them at Honey Hill, half way 'tween Beaufort and Savannah. In a bloody battle dere de Confederates won. Master Rhett, of Beaufort was wounded dere, and his brother, John, leave Columbia and go dere to see him while he was in bed, battlin' for life.

"My mammy never work in de field at Beaufort, nor after she come to Columbia. She was kep' on duty in de big house and learned to sew and make garments, quilts, and things. She also learn to read, write, and cipher, and she could sing many of de church songs them days. She play with de white chillun dat come to see de Rhetts in Beaufort and in Columbia. She tell me 'bout things in Beaufort, where de Rhetts live then.

"She say de Rhetts has been buckra since de time when Colonel William Rhett go out in his battle ships to chase and kill pirates, in de days when Carolina was ruled by de King of England. She say they own many big plantations in Beaufort County and raise big crops of rice and sea island cotton. She say de sea island cotton was so costly that it was handpicked by slaves and placed in hundred pounds sacks. Then it was shipped to France and de growers reap a rich harvest.

"Mammy tell us chillun dat de Rhetts sho' was de 'big folks' of South Carolina, and I reckons dat's so, 'cause de books, swords, guns, windlasses and things lak dat, in a room at de John T. Rhett home, show what they has been doin' for several hundred years.

"Oh yes, you wants to know where 'bouts John T. Rhett live in Columbia? He live at de house now number 1420 Washington Street, right 'cross de street from where de parsonage of the Washington Street Methodist Church now stands. I go dere with Mammy, often, and play 'round de yard. Mammy always work dere as long as she able to serve a-tall. She take sick and die in 1883.

"Master John T. Rhett was mayor of de city three times, in 1882, 1884 and in 1886. I knows well, 'cause he see to it dat us chillun go to school, 'long 'bout then, and not a one of us has been unable to read, write, and cipher since. He see dat we gits chances to become useful citizens, and his very name is sweet to me since he died.

"You ask if I knows R. Goodwin Rhett of Charleston? I sho' does; I has talked with him and he ask me many questions. He was born in Columbia but move to Charleston many years ago and, lak the buckra dat he is, he climb to de top as de mayor of Charleston, big banker, and president of de Chamber of Commerce of de United States. So you see, my mammy was lucky in livin' with such a fine family.

"You asks if my man (husband) has come down from de Heyward family of de Combahee River slaves? No. He come from de North and he say dere was Heywards up dere, both white and black. He got that name in de North. He has been a carpenter, hired by de month, at de State Hospital for many years, and we bought dis two-story home by de sweat of our brow. We lives, and has always lived, as my mammy tell us to. And we git 'long pretty well by trustin' in God and doin' our best."

Project #-1655 Mrs. Chlotilde R. Martin Beaufort County

Approx. 530 Words FOLKLORE

FOLKLORE

Stories from Ex-slaves Lucretia Heyward Ex-slave Age - 96

W'en gun fust shoot on Hilton Head Islandt, I been 22 year old. Muh Pa name Tony MacKnight and he b'long to Mr. Stephen Elliott. My Ma name Venus MacKnight and she b'long to Mr. Joe Eddings, who had uh plantation on Parri (Parris) Islandt. De overseer been Edward Blunt. He been poor white trash, but he wuk haa'd and save he money and buy slave. He buy my Ma and bring she to Beaufort to wuk in he house by de Baptist chu'ch. I been born den. I hab seven brudder name Jacob, Tony, Robert, Moses--I can't 'member de odders, it been so long ago. I hab one sister Eliza--she die de odder day.

W'en I been little gal, I wuk in de house. Wuk all day. I polish knife and fork, mek bed, sweep floor, nebber hab time for play game. W'en I git bigger, dey send me to school to Miss Crocker to learn to be seamstruss.

W'en I small, I sleep on floor in Miss Blunt room. I eat food left ober from table. Dey nebber learn me to read and write. I ain't hab time for sech t'ing. I go to chu'ch in white Baptis' chu'ch. Nigger hab for sit up stair, white folks sit down stair. If nigger git sick, dey send for doctor to 'tend um. Mr. Blunt nebber lick me, but Miss Blunt cut my back w'en I don't do to suit her. Nigger git back cut w'en dey don't do wuk or w'en dey fight. Dey hab uh jail in town, run by Mr. McGraw. If nigger be too bad, run street and t'ing, he git in jail and Mr. McGraw lick um. I been lock in jail one time. Dey hang me up by wrist and beat me twenty-five lick wid uh cowhide. I forgit w'at I don't to git dat.

W'en Yankee been come de Blunts leab Beaufort, and I walk out house and go back to Parri Islandt. De Yankee tell we to go en Buckra corn house and git w'at we want for eat. Den I come back to Beaufort and go to wuk in cotton house (gin.) De Yankee pay we for wuk and I tek my money and buy twenty acre ob land on Parri Islandt. I ain't had dat land now 'cause de Government tek em for he self and mek me move. (This was when the Government bought Parris Island for a naval station.)

I been hab two husband. De fust name Sephus Brown. How I 'member w'en he die, it been de year ob de ninety-tree storm. My odder husband been Cupid Heyward--he daid (dead) too.

I hear tell ob de Ku Klux, but I nebber shum (see them). I don't know nuting 'bout no night rider.

See um sell slabe? I see um. Dey put um on banjo table and sell um just lak chicken. Nigger ain't no more den chicken and animal, enty? (isn't it so?)

Abraham Lincoln? Sho' I 'members him. He de one w'at gib us freedom, enty? He come to Beaufort. He come 'fo de war. He sho been one fine man. He come to Beaufort on uh ship and go all 'round here, but I nebber shum.

Jefferson Davis? No I nebber hear ob him. Booker T. Washington. I 'members him. I hear him mek speech in Beaufort. It been uh beautiful speech. Dat been one smaa't colored man.

W'at I t'ink 'bout slabery? Huh--nigger git back cut in slabery time, enty?

Does I hate Mr. Blunt? No, I ain't hate um. He poor white trash but he daid now. He hab he self to look out for, enty? He wuk, he sabe he money for buy slabe and land. He git some slabe, but he nebber git any land--de war cum.

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

FOLKLORE

AUNT MARIAH HEYWOOD

Aunt Mariah Heywood, born in 1855, was 'Allston labor' on Waccamaw Neck. Given as a bridal present to 'Miss Susan Alston by her father, Mr. Duncan Alston of Midway Plantation Waccamaw, Aunt Mariah has for the last fifty years lived much in the past when 'I wuz raise on the cream of the earth' and her head is just a little higher and her backbone just a little stiffer than that of the average colored person because of pride--family pride--in her people--her white people. And as one can readily see from her testimony, her chief cause for her pardonable snobbery seems to be that her Massa was the last man to surrender and "swear gainst his swear."

Her sons, one of whom is a preacher in the Methodist Conference and 'one a zorter--a locust' and her youngest son John (who got all the credrick) have built her a comfortable house (painted a bilious yaller) which she keeps clean and sweet with flowers in the front yard--two treasured plants having been sent by her brother (born after mancipations) clean from Pittsburgh.

The fact that she was raised by aristocrats shows plainly in her dealing with both races and she is a leader in church activities and her opinion valued when a vote is taken about school matters.

Being the oldest 'communion steward' she is affectionately spoken of as 'THE MOTHER OF HEAVEN'S GATE'--the Methodist church founded in Murrells Inlet community by colored leaders shortly after Mancipation.

"Aunt Mariah, you home?"

"Missus, what you brought me?"

"------------

"I too thank you."

(Soon she began to reminisce)

"You could hear 'em over there slamming and banging. The Yankee tear up the Dr. Flagg house but they didn't come Sunnyside. Bright day too! Old man Thomas Stuart lead 'em to Hermitage. Had team they take from Mr. Betts and team they take from Dr. Arthur to Woodland. Free everywhere else and we wasn't free Sunnyside till June third or second. Sunday we got our freedom. Bright day too. Our colored people fare just like the white; wearing, eating, drinking. I wuz raise on the cream of earth.

"They wuz glad. Sign a contract for your boss you would work the same and get pay the end of the year-and tend you when you sick all the same." (The same medical attention to be given that was given before 'Freedom') "Big guns shooting! House jar to Sunnyside and one day water shake out the glass! Miss Susan take her spyglass and stand behind one them big posses (posts) and spy them big boats shooting. And boss say, 'Don't get in front of them posses-they might shoot you!'

"Yankee come to Mrs. Belin and Parson Betts. And they tell Mrs. Belin, they want her to know no more slave holding and she thank 'em and she say, HE people wuz always free! Grandma Harriet, (Harriet Mortor wuz her title but that time they always gone by they Master title). Joe Heywood wuz Joe Belin--he was Parson Belin man--he take the Heywood title after mancipation. Poinsette (Uncle Fred) ALWAYS carry that title. That day, all the right hand servant always take they Massa title. When the big gun shooting, old people in the yard, 'Tank God! Massa, HE COMING!' (Referring to 'Freedom') 'HE COMING!' (Guns gone just like thunders roll now!) Chillun say, "What coming? What coming? What coming, Grandma?"

'You all will know! You all will know!'

"Massa live 'Wee ha kum' for years. We are fifty-five (55) chillun. Mary Rutledge Allston and I one year chillun." (She and Mary R. Allston born same year.) "My missus have four chillun--Mary Rutledge, Susan Bethune, Marsa Pink and Marse Fanuel. (Benjamine Nathaniel!)

"Four years of the war been hold prayer-meeting." (Praying for 'freedom'). Lock me up in house. Me, I been PREsent to Miss Minna--'Miss Mary! We, us lock up! My brother and I listen! (Two brother mancipation chillun. Smart Robert Brockington and Harrison Franklin Brockington in Pittsburgh. I nuss (nurse) him--jess like you hold that book.) Old people used to go to Richmond Hill, Laurel Hill and Wachesaw have these little prayer-meeting. All bout in people house. Hold the four year of the war. Great many time the chicken crow for day. Hear the key. We say 'Yeddy!' Change clothes. Gone on in the house. Get that eight, seven o'clock breakfast.'

"Parson Glennie (Rector All Saints, Waverly lived at Rectory there and did wonderful work teaching and preaching to slaves as well as whites--preaching at beautiful St. Mary's chapel, built by Plowden Weston at Hagley for the slaves of materials from England--baptismal font from this chapel now in Camden Episcopal church and stained glass also removed before chapel burned some few years ago. At this period--prior to mancipation Waccamaw slaves were usually educated in the faith of their masters--the Episcopal.) Parson Glennie come once a month to Sunnyside. Parson Glennie read, sing, pray. Tell us obey Miss Minna. (I wuz little highest.) Two of us 55 chillun! We'd fight. She knock me. I knock back! Wouldn't take a knock! She say, 'I tell Parson Glennie! Lord won't bless you! You bad.' I say, 'You knock me, I knock you!'

"Have a play-house. Charlie buy from Mott. Used to summer it at Magnolia. Row from Bull Creek once a month to Chapel. (10 miles or more) Put them All Saints eleven o'clock service. Four best men his rowsmen. Fuss (first) year war we tuh Bull Creek. Nobody go (to All Saints) but Missus and Massa and the four rowsmen.

"Flat going from Midway to Cheraw. Best rice on flat. (Couldn't grind corn) Kill chicken. Gone to protect from Yankees--to hide! When they come (to Cheraw). Sherman coming from MONDAY till SATDY! Come on RAIL! Said 'twas a shocking sight! When Sherman army enter Cheraw, town full of sojers. Take way from white people and give horses colored people! Didn't kill none the horses. (On Sunnyside on Waccamaw) Cheraw Yankee kill horses! (Indeed--YES! It is history in Marlboro, near Cheraw they were killed and thrown in the wells to pollute the water.)"

"Mr. Charley horse, couldn't nobody ride but him! Father-in-law (Mr. Duncan to Midway) had a pair of grey--BUCK and SMILER. Driver, Tom Carr. Come in carriage every month to Sunnyside. Get the family. Go and spend ten days--Midway! Family wuz MYSELF, MISS MINNA, and the three and the Massa and Miss Susan. Mary Huger one my Missus sister. One marry a Huger to Charleston.

"Major Charles say he'd die in Sunnyside yard fore he'd go there (Georgetown) and take off his hat and 'swear gainst my swear.' He'd die in Sunnyside yard. My Massa, Major Charles Alston, was the last one to gone to Georgetown and gone under that flag! He was Charles Jr., but after Confederick war he was Major Charles! Major Charles the last man off Waccamaw gone under the flag! At Georgetown. Went down in row-boat. My fadder gone and tell old man Tom Nesbitt to have his boat and four of his best mens. Got to go off a piece! Pa gone. Have boat ready. Ma got up. Cook a traveling lunch for 'em. Fore day! Blue uniform. Yellow streak down side--just like this streak in my dress. Yellow bar!" (Most of 'em had to rob dead yankees or go naked) "LAST GENTLEMAN GONE UNDER THE FLAG!

"Walking up and down the piazza! Say, Can I go to town and swear gainst my slave?" Can I? Up and down!

"I hear bout them slave try to run way. Aunt Tella Kinloch eye shot out. Marsh (baby) cry! Mother say take her apron and stuff the child mouth. Blockade (patrollers) wuz hiding. Shot in range of that sound. Row! Row! Row! Put everything in jail! All in jail! Mr. McCuskey tell us! He wuz one of the men help lynch. I got married 1873. They wuz talking bout the time (war) "Mr. McCuskey told us Nemo Ralston was one. Say he never see a fatter man. Fat in there in shield! Like a fattening hog! (They running way from Oregon--Dr. McGill place). Say they put four horses to him--one to every limb. Stretch 'em. And cut horses and each horse carry a piece! Mr. McCuskey was one help lynch Nemo.

"Uncle William Heywood didn't birth till after mancipation. Not a thing to do with slavery time! But I know when the big gun shooting to free me! Yankee come and free Waccamaw! No slave hold. Whole neck free but us! Last people free on 'Neck.' MY MAJOR last one to went under flag to Georgetown! Old man Moses Gibson and Peter Brockington build Sunnyside kitchen.

"I wuz birth November 5th, 1855. Mr. Buck say, 'Aunt Mariah, know your birth?'

"'Yes, sir!'

"'Aunt Mariah, you too old to work! You born 1800, go on home raise your chicken!'"

Aunt Mariah Heywood Age--82 Murrells Inlet, S.C.

Project 1885-1 FOLK LORE Spartanburg, S.C. May 10, 1937

Edited by: Elmer Turnage

SLAVE STORIES

Living with his married daughter is an old negro slave by the name of Jerry Hill. He was born Jan. 12, 1852. He and his mother were owned by Jim Fernandes who had a plantation between Union and Jonesville, S.C. His father was a slave owned by another white man on an adjoining plantation. "Uncle" Jerry was nine years old when the war began, and thirteen when he was set free. He was born near Rocky Creek which ran into Fairforest Creek. He was always treated kindly by his master. He was taught to plow and work on the farm, which he did regularly; though he always took his time and would not let anybody hurry him. He said that he had always taken his time to do his farm work, so got along fine with all for whom he worked. He says that he always had plenty to eat; yet most of the "niggers" had to eat Ash-bread. This is corn-bread which is cooked in hot ashes raked from the fireplace. Once a week he was given biscuits, though this was a luxury to colored folks. He said, that when a slave had to have a whipping, he was taken to a whipping post in Jonesville. A bull-whip was used for the punishment and it brought the blood from the bare back of the man or woman being whipped. One day a grown slave was given 150 lashes with the bull-whip, for teaching the young boys to gamble. He saw this punishment administered. He had climbed a tree where he could get a better view. He said that several slaves were being whipped that day for various things, and there were several men standing around watching the whipping. He said that he was laughing at the victim, when some by-stander looked up and saw him; "that boy needs 150 lashes, too," he said. "He is laughing at the punishment being given." So his master told the by-stander to get the boy and give him the lashing if he thought he needed it. When he was led up to the whipping post, some man there shook his head at the by-stander; so the boy did not get whipped. Jerry says that the sister of Jim Fernandas used to carry a bull-whip around her neck when she walked out on the farm, and would apply it herself to any slave she thought needed it.

"When the Yankee soldiers came," he said, "my master had to hide out for awhile, as he had gotten into some trouble with them at Union. They would search the house occasionaly and then go into the woods looking for him. One day the soldiers caught him down on the branch and killed him. As the Yankee soldiers would come to the plantation, they would leave their worn-out horses and take our good ones. They also stole meat, hams, sugar etc.; but they were pretty quiet most of the time. One of our neighbors caught a Yankee stealing his horse and killed him right there. His name was Bill Isom. All his family is now dead. The soldiers would slip around and steal a good horse and ride it off. We would never see that horse again. After we were told by my master that we were now free and could go to work whereever we chose, my mother hired me out to a man and I stayed with him two years. It was pretty hard to make a living after we were free, but I worked hard and always got on."

=Source:= Jerry Hill, 265 Highland St., Spartanburg, S.C. Interviewed by: F.S. DuPre, Spartanburg Office, Dist. 4.

Project #-1655 Martha S. Pinckney Charleston, S.C.

FOLKLORE

JANE HOLLINS

AGE 97

Jane was found in the sunshine on her piazza, busily occupied, as she always would be. With her full cotton skirt she brushed off the hard-wood bench, and asked the writer to have a seat; this being declined, she said,

"Then I'll sit, because I'm old and get tired.

"Now what you want with old Jane? From old Mausa time you can get my age--you can 'pute it up. (compute) I was 95 June before this last June gone. I got a son 70 what lives in the country--he pay my rent. I dunno how many children I had; my son July Ladson lives here with me--he gone out now. One son is gone off somewhere in the world; he's married and has a family--I dunno where he is--somewhere in the world!"--spreading, out her arms.

"I come from Eutawville and Belvidere and Belmont. My Master?--Charles Sinkler, Belvidere Plantation, (a few miles from Eutawville) Mausa went to Eutaw for Miss--I remember all two place, Belvidere and Eutaw. We live at Belvidere. My master house been beautiful--'e dey yet! (in her deep feeling and excitement she lapsed into Gullah). That was the plantation where we lived--and, the beautiful steps went up at the back to the 'pantry and to the side was the smoke house', she jumped up and illustrated--'the smoke come up from here, and the meat was hangin' all here', she showed vital interest in everything she told, and was absorbed in her subject, as when we relate experiences which we have loved.

"You know what 'Daily Gift'?--I was Daily Gift--Mausa give me to Miss Margaret, his daughter, when she was married to Mr. Gaillard--I give to Miss Margaret--=I never was sold=." She repeated twice, and was very proud of it that she was a "Free Gift". "I never was sold, =and my Mama never was sold=." (Faithful servants remained for generations in one family, inherited and willed like other valued property)

"What I do?--I milk cows", and she illustrated. "I do outside work wid de hoe--plant corn, potato, peas, rice!" She beamed with pride and pleasure as she told of each thing she could do--"Help fix the hogs, you know, make lard and cracklings to put in bread. When dinner time they blow the big conk and everybody come for dinner. I not the cook. The cook, Delia, stout round, (illustrated) she do cook! We jus' make out now with dese vittles.

"We went to church all de time--an' I sing an' shout in de Heavenly land! De church been on de plantation. Mausa had a white minister for us. His name Mr. Quinbey. I believe in God. Heaven a restin' place--there we is all one spirit--the spirit go about jus' how we go about here."

"Do they come back? Did you ever see one?" she was asked.

"I hear 'bout dat," she frowned, "but I never see um. My mama, Eve, died after freedom. My mama gone--she never come back--my children never come back to me any time. I dont know how many of my children dead. My daughters, dey lookin' to themselves."

"I come to Charleston long after Freedom. I remember all two place--Belvidere and Eutawville. Belmont I cant forget--de name Gaillard I cant forget, cause I was 'Free Gift.' Dese time aint like de times way back dere."

"I been a mid-wife here 60 years. My name writ right down dere and you can find it. No longer than this mornin' I burn up some papers. I aint have any remembrance any more." Here she went in to the house and got some sheets of paper.--"I want to be truthful to you, dese was my nursery book."

"I'm too old to sing.--I did know spirituals but cant remember them--I tell you dese things, then they go out of my remembering."

"My sister been seamstress in de house--her name Rachel--I do de pointing I can work at anything--after supper, before dark come, do cutting out for next days work."

"I cut out a suit for my master," she said proudly--"pants, and a waistcoat--you know?" Then she remembered suddenly that she could spin--card the cotton and spin it into yarn--"'I glad I can remember things I do in those days--.'"

Her farewell benediction was: ="I trust de Lord will carry you whereever you want to go!"=

=Source:= Jane Hollins, age 97, the Lane at 50 Ashe St, Charleston, S.C.

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

CORNELIUS HOLMES EX-SLAVE 82 YEARS OLD.

Cornelius Holmes lives with his wife, Nancy, in a two-room annex to the house that his son, David, occupies. It is on the old Harden place, nine miles northwest of Winnsboro, S.C. The land and the house belong to Mr. John Means Harden, a resident of Winnsboro. Cornelius is intelligent, courteous in manner, tidy in appearance, and polite. His occupation is that of basket-making, in which he is an adept. He picks up a little money by repairing chairs and putting split-bottoms in them.

"I was born in de town of Edgefield, South Carolina, November 29th, 1855, 'cordin' to de Bible, and was a slave of Marse Preston Brooks. Dat name seem to make you set up and take notice of me.

"How come I a slave of Marse Preston? Well, it was dis way. My grands b'long to de Means family of Fairfield County, 'round old Buckhead section. My grandpap, Wash, tell me Marse Preston come dere visitin' de Harpers, 'nother buckra family dat live further toward de Broad River side of de county. When he git up dere, it come over his 'membrance dat de Meanses was some punkins too, as well as him and de Harpers. Maybe he done heard 'bout Miss Martha, how her could ride a horse and dance a cotillion in Columbia, when Marse John Hugh was de governor. Well, de part goes, he comes over dere but didn't do lak they does now, bust right in and 'clare his 'fections to de gal. Him fust, solemn lak, ask to see de marster and ask him if he object to him pursuing Miss Martha, in de light of becomin' his son-in-law? Then, when dat was settled, Marse Preston and Miss Martha gallop and race all 'round de country but de hosses was always neck and neck. Dat fall, dat race ended in a tie. Dat what Grandpap Wash tell me.

"After they marry, my mother, Scylla, was give to Miss Martha and 'company her to Edgefield. Dere she marry de carriage driver, Hillard, who was my pappy. I was born in a room 'joinin' de kitchen and a part of de big kitchen. De plantation was out in de country. I never was dere, so I can't tell you nothin' 'bout dat. De fact is, I was just a small boy and most I know, comes from mother and grandpap. They 'low Marse Preston was in Washington most of de time. One day he marched right in de Senate, wid his gold head cane, and beat a Senator 'til him fainted, 'bout sumpin' dat Senator say 'bout him old kinsman, Senator Butler. Dat turn de world up side down. Talk 'bout 'peachin' Marse Preston. Marse Preston resign and come home. De town of Edgefield, de county of Edgefield, de state of South Carolina, and Miss Martha, rise to vindicate Marse Preston and 'lect him back to Washington.

"Marse Preston go back and stay dere 'til he die, in 1859. His body was brought back to Edgefield. De nex' year de war come on. I's too young to 'member much 'bout it but my pappy die while it was goin' on. Him have three chillun by mother: Me, Audie, and Nancy. They is dead now but I 'members them crawlin' 'round on de plank floor in de winter time and in de sand in de summer time.

"I never worked in slavery time. Us eat from de dairy and de kitchen, just what mistress and her chillun eat. One thing I lak then was 'matoes. They wasn't big 'matoes lak they is now. They was 'bout de size of marbles. Us cooked them wid sugar and they was mighty good dat way.

"My mistress had chillun by Marse Preston. Sho' I recollect them. Dere was Preston; de last I hear of him, him livin' in Tennessee. Then dere was Miss Mary; her marry Mr. George Addison of Edgefield. Miss Carrie; her marry Marse Capers Byrd. De youngest, Miss Martha, marry Col. McBee of Greenville, S.C.

"Does I 'members 'bout de Yankees? Not much. I 'members more 'bout Wheeler's men. They come and take nearly everything, wid de excuse dat de Yankees was not far behind and when they come, they would take all, so they just as well take most of what was in sight.

"When freedom come, my pappy was dead. Mother brought me back to Fairfield County and give me to my grandpap, Washington Holmes. Us live on 'Possum Branch; now own by Mr. Jim Young. I stay dere 'til I 'come twenty-one. Then I marry Maggie Gladden, 'cause I love her. Us had four chillun, in de twenty years her live. Henry is in Philadephia. David, de oldest, is fifty years old, livin' out in de county from Winnsboro. Lula died, unmarried. Carrie lives here, in Winnsboro; her husband is Arthur Rosboro, dat you white folks all know so well. When Maggie die, I marry Nancy Holmes, a widow. Us have had no chillun.

"Now you is finished wid me and you wants me to relax, you say, and talk to you freely 'bout de past and slavery, de present and social conditions, and de risin' generation and de future? Well, dat is a heap of territory. Now let's think. You see I got a heap a white blood in me, and a heap of de Negro too. Slavery did de white race a whole lot a good but it wasn't lastin' good. It did de Negro good, dat will be lastin' good forever. De Negro women protected de pure white woman from enticement and seduction of de white man in slavery time. My grandpap say he never heard of a bad white woman befo' freedom. I leave it wid you if dere's any dese times? Dat was worth more to de South, my grandpap say, dis santification of de white women, than all de cotton and corn dat de Negroes ever makes, in all de years of slavery times.

"Now it was de finest thing could have happen for de Negro, to have been snatched out of Africa and brought here in touch wid civilization and Christianity. It will work out untold benefit to de race. 'Bout social conditions? De Bible say, 'De poor you will have wid you always.' Tho' de slave question am settled, de race question will be wid us always, 'til Jesus come de second time. It's in our politics, in our justice courts, on our highways, on our side walks, in our manners, in our 'ligion, and in our thoughts, all de day and every day.

"De good Marster pity both sides. In de end, will it be settle by hate or by de policy of, love your neighbor, as you do yourself? Who knows? Dere's not much promise at de 'mediate moment of de risin' generation, of either side, and I means no disrespect to you. My grandpap say no race can rise higher than its women. De future of de Negro race, depends on its mothers. I leave you to answer de last half of de question."

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

FOLKLORE

UNCLE BEN HORRY

(Uncle Ben lives in his own cabin with his second wife, Stella. Formerly almost inaccessible, the new Coastal Highway has put Uncle Ben and Aunt Stella in the world. The rural electricity program has current right at their door. Aunt Stella was asked 'Why don't you have lights, Aunt Stella?' and she replied, 'White folks run me if I do that!' So you see the old couple still live with many old and odd beliefs one being that the white man only is entitled to the good things--the better things. Like most old ex-slaves in South Carolina low country, they love and revere the names and memories of their old masters.)

"Right now, I oldest one from Longwood to Prospect--see dere? (Pointing to forest wall--great pines and live-oaks in front of the cabin)--Look! I know when he cleared and plant! Josh Ward have potato there. I have manure and plant tater. I been here, daughter!" (He pronounces it 'Dater' with a short 'a')

(Aside: "Stella, mind now! Don't quarrel me to-night! What you do?"

Aunt Stella: The second wife--some years his junior--probably 65--"I do nuff!")

"Got to go up there and cook supper to the Schoolfield house." (This was Uncle Ben's announcement as he crawled into the car with a bucket in which were his shoes. He was walking down the Coastal Highway and not staying where he belonged--on the shoulder!) "Got to cook crab and ister (oyster). Ain't got much to cook. They don't eat much. Got a gal there to fry fish. They give me recommend for cook. Been get the sea foods for 'em for five year. Iron oven the way we raise." (Aside to his wife) "Stella, if that man come there, see that sack there? Tell that man I put fire there. Gie 'em fork and knife. Tell 'em eat all he want!" (Uncle Ben arranges oyster roasts.)

"That man to Schoolfield house want me to stay and sleep wid 'em. All women gone. Tell me keep the man and lock up the house when he gone. I tell 'em too much o' tief!"

Lillie: "Aunt Stella, ain't you fraid when Uncle Ben stay out all night?"

Uncle Ben: "Stella keep pot o' water boil and tief come she trow 'em!"

Visitor: "Uncle Ben tell Lillie bout your father and the whiskey jug."

Uncle Ben: "You see, to Brookgreen we nuster plant rice and my fadder had the barn key. He kinder boss man. He nuster (used to) take me and go out woods night time." (Aside to mother of child at pump--"Take care dat child!")

"Fadder take me out woods night time (What you say, Primus?) and I hold storch (torch) for him see for trash (thrash) out rice what he take out the barn. Rice been money dem time you know. And he take he rice and gone on down to town for get he liquor. And he come from town wid whiskey. Boss find it out. Five or six chillun and always give us rations. Broke that jug and when they call his name (put rations in pile you know--pile for every one been in fambly) when they call my fadder name but a piece o' broken jug there is discourage him from whiskey--. He come from town and been drop the jug and it break up. And Boss know. Far as I can remember he keep give 'em that broken jug bout a year. You see he sponsible for key. Seem like I member right where we go beat that rice. Pine tree saw off and chip out make as good a mortar as that one I got. Dan'l, Summer, Define! Define the oldest brother my fadder have. Young Missus Bess, Florence, Georgia, Alice. Those boys the musicianer--go round play for the girl."

Aunt Stella: Interrupting, "You orter be carry money with you. Get the meat. I ain't going no whey (where)."

Lillie: To Primus who has walked up. "Handful back yet?" (Handful his wife's basket name.)

Primus: "No. This man bacco barn burn up."

Lillie: "What?"

Primus: "Mr. Len barn. Must'er been asleep!"

Lillie: "Rich most cure all his'n. Taint mine! Rich tease me. He say, 'MY bacco; YOUR kitchen!'"

Lillie: "What you all think bout that tale the Elder tell Sunday bout his Great Uncle and the snakes!"

Stella: (To Uncle Ben) "What you tink bout it? You tink a man truss to go in cypress hollow wid rattle-snake?"

Uncle Ben: "Let me see how was it!" (Deep thought as he rubbed his face in his palm; smile as recollection came) "On Rutledge Plantation a man wouldn't take no beating. Found a large hollow cypress tree been rotten out long years. Gone in. Lie down sleep. Fore day wake up! Feel something crawl over him. Nother one crow like game chicken!" (Negroes all say rattlers crow!) "Smell him. Crawl over him. Crawl out. Get out."

Stella: "Revents had it wuz a man in a cypress tree and seven--how much wuz it? Twelve? These twelve monster snake crawl over him. If you move, he strike."

Uncle Ben: "Right there where Dr. Ward stay had a big old stable--see these two hole in my jaw. Had a stable high as that tree. Big Jersey bull gone in there eating that straw like we thrashing. Big rattle-snake pop 'um. Fell dead."

"How does we mark shoat? Under-bit; upper-bit. Swallow fork in the right year! And a square crop in the left!

"How much been task? A quarter (acre) if you mashing ground. Ten compass digging ground. Cutting rice one half acre a day." (awful job.)

Stella: "Plow; harrow 'em."

Ben: "Ain't you mash 'em?"

Stella: "Mash a bed a day three task deep."

Ben: "Mashing raw ground half acre--some quarter. Mash 'em--take hoe full up them hole, level dem, chop dem big sod!"

Stella: (age 65) "You got a mis-sheen (machine). Ox pull dat mis-sheen!"

Ben: "Dat mis-sheen come in YOU day, darling! My day I trenching hoe trench dat! I done dat, Stella. You come on sow in trench lak (like) dey sow turnip. YOU day got mis-sheen! Ox pull 'em. Great I AM! Missus, fifteen to old islant (island), twenty silver islant, (I been Silver Islant. Cross old islant go Silver islant.) Josh Ward one some four or five hundred acre. Something been here, darling! Something been here! Left Brookgreen go Watsaw; left Watsaw gone Longwood. Plant ALL DEM plantation. I work there. Cut rice there. Cutting rice task been half acre a day.

"Squirrel creek? Cedar tree and cypress hang low. Squirrel love dem ball. Tree work up wid dem. Good place for go shoot squirrel. Give 'em name Squirrel Creek.

"Bury live? I did hear some talk o' that. I didn't know whether they bury 'em to scay 'em (scare 'em) or what. I DID hear tell bout it. I most know that man name. Some these white people that day something! They either manage you or kill you."

Lillie: (To Primus who was a listener to Uncle Ben standing propped by a post of the porch where Uncle Ben, Aunt Stella, and the white visitor sat)

"Prime! Why you keep that church door lock Sunday and not let the Missus out?"

Primus: (Grinning--and he hadn't grinned Sunday but steadfastly shook his head when, after a three hour service, guests thought it time to go) "Second man next to me, Asham, Secretary, tell me keep door shet through sacrament.

Ben: (Who is quite deaf--ignoring interruption--when asked about Oregon Plantation which was owned by a family who, from all accounts, had a cruel overseer.)

"I didn't have to much to do to Oregon in them dark days. If I go from Brookgreen, I go Cap'n Josh git my mittment. Anybody bother me I say, 'I not a run-way nigger! I got mittment!'

"Very FUSS girl--FUSS one I go with name wuz Teena. How many girl? Great God! I tell you! FUSS one Teena; next Candis. Candis best looking but Teena duh largest! Go there every Sunday after school. (Oatland Plantation--blong to Marse Benjamine Allston.) Stay till sunset. Got to have paper. Got to carry you paper. Dem patroller put you cross a log! Beat you to death. I see them beat Ben Sharp. Beat 'em till Ben kin hardly git cross fence. Jump over fence give 'em last chop! Patroll jess like road men now! (Stella! That man ain't coming! I got to go! Got to cook my supper. Cook dem crab--) Blood! Christ! Yes, man. Listen me. Lemme tell you what I see wid my eye now! (here he pried both eyes wide with his ten fingers) If I much of age reckon they have to kill me! I see gash SO LONG (measuring on fore-finger) in my Mama--my own Mama! (aside to Lillie) I shame fore Miss Jinny! If one them driver want you (want big frame gal like you Lillie!) they give you task you CAN'T DO. You getting this beating not for you task--for you flesh!"

Lillie: "That why nation get mix up so!" (Races)

Ben: "Susan wuz a house woman, to buckra woman like a you to Miss Jin. (Susan worked in the house--no field hand--like Lillie works for Miss Jin) To my knowing she had three white chillun. Not WANT 'em. HAB 'em. Boy (you know 'em Lill) near bout clean as them boy of Missus! Tief chillun show up so! Woman over-power! My mother nuss (nurse.) Get up so high--natural nuss for white people.

"Place they call duh 'Bull Pen.' In 'Bull Pen' thing they call 'PONY'. Got to go on there--on the 'PONY.'

Lillie: "RIDE you on it, Uncle Ben?"

Ben: "Ain't going ride you on 'PONY'; going RIDE YOU! I stay there look wid DESE HERE (eyes)! Want you to know one thing--MY OWN DADDY DERE couldn't move! Couldn't venture dat ober-sheer! (Colored overseer) Everybody can't go to boss folks! (Meaning only house servants could contact Missus and Massa). Some kin talk it to Miss Bess. Everybody don't see Miss Bess. Kin see the blood of dat ober-sheer fuss year atter Freedom; and he blood there today! Atter Freedom mens come from French Broad and you know the colored people--we go there whey (where) they music. Agrippa--daddy name Parrish--Redmond one he child outside. (Outside chillun are those not born to a man's legal wife) He say, to gal, 'Go that barn!' YOU GO. You could yeddy him SLAP cross dat creek! When fowl crow (daylight) and you yeddy him SQUALL, you best git to flat! I stand dere and my Daddy HAVE to stand dere and see! Josh Ward from French Broad--hundred mile away. (Boss Massa 'summering it' in mountains) and negro over seer--just fresh out of Africa TURNED LOOSE. White obersheer a little different for one reason! White obersheer want to hold his job. (On Waccamaw--and same true of all south as all know--white overseers worst kind of 'White trash'--respected less by negroes than by whites) Nigger obersheer don't care too much. He know he going stay on plantation anyhow.

"Now, dater, I tell you bout the loom and weaving next time!"

And we left Uncle Ben Horry--age 87 Murrells Inlet, S.C. August 1937.

to go on 'to the Schoolfield house and cook supper for a house-party. This week he stepped up to Con-o-way. Says he had to walk it twice a week--formed the habit when he was on old river Steamer Burroughs and had to walk up to Conway Monday and back home Saturday. About thirty miles (or more from his place) to Conway. At 87 he still takes this little exercise almost weekly. Having such a struggle holding on to his land. All the lawyers saying 'sign here' and trying to rob him! Poor Uncle Ben needs desperately a Massa to help him out with his land. Not many Uncle Ben's left to be robbed--

(told that the cruel negro overseer was shot down after Freedom--blood still on ground (according to Uncle Ben) because he led Yankees to where silver, etc., was buried. Have heard story from other old livers.)

Project # 2570 Mrs. Genevieve W. Chandler, Murrell's Inlet, S.C. Georgetown county.

Ex Slave Story.

UNCLE BEN HORRY

Uncle Ben and his wife, aunt Stella, live in their two-room, white-washed cabin that sits sideways to the King's Highway, which Uncle Ben always calls 'the King Road,' near Murell's Inlet, S.C. Paving and straightening this old King's Road, now US 17, has put the two old people in the world. Around the cabin lie the fourteen and three quarter acres that were paid for by Uncle Ben and his father, six or eight acres cleared, the rest woodland. Uncle Ben earns a living by gathering oysters from the Inlet's waters, opening and roasting the oysters for white visitors. Uncle Ben is a great walker. He walks to Conway, the county seat of Horry (Murrell's Inlet is situated on the line between Horry and Georgetown counties), a distance of approximately thirty miles depending on whether one sticks to the paved highway or takes short cuts through the woods, in preference to riding. One day he had walked to Conway and back by eleven o'clock in the morning. Uncle Ben's scrappy conversation will tell how he earns his bread, fears and fights 'the Law', provides for Stella's future, and works for and honors white folks. Brookgreen, which he mentions as the plantation on which he was born and raised, is an open-air museum, donated to South Carolina by A.M. Huntingdon, and visited by thousands of tourists. (=See US17, Tour 1=).

"I the oldest liver left on Waccamaw Neck that belong to Brookgreen, Prospect, (now Arcadia), Longwood, Alderly Plantations. I been here! I seen things! I tell you. Thousand of them things happen but I try to forget 'em. Looker!" He pointed to what appeared to be primeval forest in front of his battered little porch. "That woods you see been Colonel Josh Ward's taters patch. Right to Brookgreen Plantation where I born. My father Duffine (Divine) Horry and my brother is Richard Horry. Dan'l and Summer two both my uncle. You can put it down they were Colonel Ward's musicianer. Make music for his dater (daughter) and the white folks to dance. Great fiddlers, drummers. Each one could play fiddle, beat drum, blow fife. All three were treat with the same education. You know, when you going to do anything for them big people you got to do it right. Before time (formerly) they danced different. Before strange city people fetched different steps here. But, then, they could use they feet all right!

"My father fore he dead been the head man for old Colonel Josh Ward. Lived to Brookgreen. They say Colonel Ward the biggest rice man been on Waccamaw. He start that big gold rice in the country. He the head rice Cap'n in dem time. My father the head man, he tote the barn key. Rice been money dem day and time. My father love he liquor. That take money. He ain't have money but he have the rice barn key and =rice= been money! So my father gone in woods (he have a head, my father!), take a old stump, have 'em hollow out. Now he (the stump) same as mortar to the barn yard. And my father keep a pestle hide handy. Hide =two= pestle! Them pestle make outer heart pine. When that pestle been miss (missed), I wuzn't know nothing! The way I knows my age, when the slavery time war come I been old enough to go in the woods with my father and hold a lightard (lightwood) torch for him to see to pestle off that golden rice he been tote out the barn and hide. =That= rice he been take to town Sat'd'y when the Colonel and my father go to get provision like sugar, coffee, pepper and salt. With the money he get when he sell that rice, he buy liquor. He been hide that sack o' rice fore day clean (daylight) in the prow of the boat and cover with a thing like an old coat. I members one day when he come back from town he make a miss (step) when he onloading and fell and broke he jug! The Big Boss see; he smell; and he see WHY my father make that miss step; he already sample that liquor! But the Boss ain't say too much. Sat'd'y time come to ration off. Every head on the Plantation to Brookgreen line up at smoke-house to draw he share of meat and rice and grits and meal. (This was fore my father been pint (appointed) head man. This when they had a tight colored man in that place by name Fraser. They say Fraser come straight from Africa). Well, Sat'd'y when time come to give my father he share of rations, the headman reach down in the corner and pull out a piece of that broke whiskey jug and put on top my father rations where all could see! Colonel Ward cause that to be done to broke him off from that whiskey jug. My father was a steady liquor man till then and the Boss broke him off.

"Slavery going in. I members Marse Josh and Miss Bess had come from French Broad (Springs) where they summered it. They brought a great deal of this cloth they call blue drilling to make a suit for every boy big enough to wear a suit of clothes and a pair of shoes for every one. I thought =that= the happiest 'set up' I had in boyhood. Blue drilling pants and coat and shoe. And Sund'y come we have to go to the Big House for Marse Josh to see how the clothes fit. And him and Miss Bess make us run races to see who run the fastest. That the happiest time I members when I wuz a boy to Brookgreen.

"Two Yankee gun boats come up Waccamaw river! Come by us Plantation. One stop to Sandy Island, Montarena landing. One gone Watsaw (Wachesaw landing). Old Marse Josh and all the white buckra gone to Marlboro county to hide from Yankee. Gon up Waccamaw river and up Pee Dee river, to Marlboro county, in a boat by name Pilot Boy. Take Colonel Ward and all the Cap'n to hide from gun boat till peace declare. I think Pilot Boy been a rear-wheeler. Most boats like the Old Planter been side wheeler.

"They say the Yankee broke in all the rice barn on Sandy Island and share the rice out to colored people. The big mill to Laurel Hill been burn right den. That the biggest rice mill on Waccamaw river. Twuzn't the Yankee burn dem mill. Dese white mens have a idea the Yankee mean to burn dese mill so they set 'em afire before the Yankee come. Nothing left to Laurel Hill today but the rice mill tower. That old brick tower going to BE there. Fire can't harm 'em.

"The worst thing I members was the colored oberseer. He was the one straight from Africa. He the boss over all the mens and womens and if omans don't do all he say, he lay task on 'em they ain't able to do. My mother won't do all he say. When he say, 'You go barn and stay till I come,' she ain't do dem. So he have it in for my mother and lay task on 'em she ain't able for do. Then for punishment my mother is take to the barn and strapped down on thing called the Pony. Hands spread like this and strapped to the floor and all two both she feet been tie like this. And she been give twenty five to fifty lashes till the blood flow. And my father and me stand right there and look and ain't able to lift a hand! Blood on floor in that rice barn when barn tear down by Huntingdon (A.M. Huntingdon). If Marse Josh been know 'bout that obersheer, the oberseer can't do 'em; but just the house servant get Marse Josh' and Miss Bess' ear. Them things different when my father been make the head man. What I tell you happen fore Freedom, when I just can remember.

"Father dead just before my mother. They stayed right to Brookgreen Plantation and dead there after they free. And all they chillun do the same, till the Old Colonel sell the plantation out. Where we going to? Ain't we got house and rations there?

"How many chillun I got? Lemme see. Lemme see how many head of chillun. You, Stella! Help me now! Don't let me tell the Missis wrong. Charles Henry, thirty eight, dere in New York. Ben Horry--I gie' 'em directly!" (Lifting cap and scratching high forehead and gray wool). "Twenty four. I going to give you all I got! All I know about! Bill Horry, that's a boy, he twenty. Dinah, that's a gal, twenty five. Christine, she bout twenty. Mary Horry, I would say fifteen. When the last war come, the last war deputize them boy and take 'em way up North and the gals follow, trail 'em on to New York. That the war when you can't get no sugar and have to put candy in your coffee.

"How old I is?" Slowly and deliberately "December 13th., 1852. Eighty five years or more. When my mother dead to Brookgreen I would say I 'bout thirty three year old.

"After Freedom, from my behavior wid my former owner, I wuz pinted (appointed) head man on Brookgreen Plantation. By that put drop in my hand (getting the drop on others). When kennel been dug out (canal dug) from the Oaks Plantation to Dr. Wardie Flagg house, I wuz pint (appointed) head man. Take that down, Missis. Kennel (canal) cut 1877. Near as I kin, I must task it on the kennel (canal) and turn in every man's work to Big Boss. That kennel (canal) bigger than one Mr. Huntingdon dig right now with machine.

"Missus, slavery time people done something."

Uncle Gabe Lance, born on Sandy Island the first year of the Civil War, a visitor at Uncle Ben's: "Yes sir. All them rice field been nothing but swamp. Slavery people cut kennel (canal) and dig ditch through the raw swamp. All these fields been thick woods. Ditching man task was ten compass."

Uncle Ben continues:

"Storm? Ain't I tell you I BEEN here? Yes, sir. More than one storm I live through! Been through the Flagg storm. Been turn over twice outside there in the sea. One time been have the seine. Been rough. Have weather. And the breakers take the boat. I swim till I get the rope hold. Two men on the shore have the rope end of the seine rope and I hold to that and that how I save THAT time.

"Member another time. Had a boat full of people this last go 'round. Wuz Miss Mary, he aunty and the lawyer. I take them fishing outside in oshun. Been in the Inlet mouth. Come half way to Drunken Jack Island. Breaker start to lick in the boat! I start to bail! Have a maters (tomatoes) can for bail with. And that been danjus (dangerous); have too much women in there; dey couldn't swim like a man. And it happen by accident, when the boat swamp and full with water, our FEET TOUCH BOTTOM. When he (the boat) turn over, I didn't aim to do no thing but swim for myself. Wasn't able to help nobody. But here out feet touch bottom. Only an accident from God!

"One time again I swamp outside, 'tween Georgetown and Charleston. Try to bail. Swim with one hand, hold boat with the other. Roughest time I ever see 'cause it been cold wedder (weather). Old before-time yawl boat, carry eight oar, four to each side. Young man then; 1877. After the wedder (weather) surrender, we we gone back in dere and find cork going up and down and save us net and all!

"When the Flagg storm been, 1893, I working for Ravanel and Holmes. I was taken up in that storm in a steamer boat. Leave Charleston generally about five in morning. That trip never reach Georgetown till nine that night. Meet a man on that trip got he wife hug to mast in a little kinder life boat. Had he two chillun; rope wrap 'em to that mast. Save man and wife and chillun and gone back and save he trunk. After that they quit call me 'Ben'; they call me 'Rooster'.

"After Flagg storm, Colonel Ward take me and Peter Carr, us two and ah horse, take that shore (follow the ocean shore line) to Little River. Search for all them what been drowned. Find a trunk to Myrtle Beach. Have all kinder thing in 'em; comb for you hair, thing you put on you wrist. Find dead horse, cow, ox, turkey, fowl--everything. Gracious God! Don't want to see no more thing like that! But no dead body find on beach outside Flagg family. Find two of them chillun way down to Dick Pond what drownded to Magnolia Beach; find them in a distance apart from here to that house. Couldn't 'dentify wedder Miss or who. All that family drown out because they wouldn't go to this lady house on higher ground. Wouldn't let none of the rest go. Servant all drown! Betsy, Kit, Mom Adele! Couldn't 'dentify who lost from who save till next morning. Find old Doctor body by he vest stick out of the mud; fetch Doctor body to shore and he watch still aticking. Dr. Wardie Flagg been save hanging to a beach cedar. When that tornado come, my house wash down off he blocks. Didn't broke up.

"Religion! Reckon Stella got the morest of dat. I sometimes a little quick. Stella, she holds one course. I like good song. One I like best?"

'Try us, Oh Lord, And search the ground Of every sinful heart! (Uncle Ben stopped to think). What 'eer of sin In us be found Oh, bid it all depart!'

"Reason I choose that for a favorite hymn, I was to Brookgreen doing some work for Dr. Wardie Flagg and I had to climb as high as that live oak tree, and I fell high as that tree! I lay there till I doze off in sleep. And I tell you what happen to me curious. While I was sleep I seen two milk white chickens. You know what them two white fowl do? They gone and sit on my mother dresser right before the glass and sing that song. Them COULD sing! And it seem like a woman open a vial and pour something on me. My spiritual mother (in dem day every member in the church have what they call a spiritual mother) say, 'That not natural fowl. That sent you for a token.' Since that time I serve the choir five or six years and no song seem strange to me since that day. God ain't ax about you color; God ax about you heart.

"Make my living with the ister (oyster). Before time (formerly) I get seventy five cents a bushel; now I satisfy with fifty cents. Tide going out, I go out in a boat with the tide; tide bring me in with sometimes ten, sometimes fifteen or twenty bushels. I make white folks a roast; white folks come to Uncle Ben from all over the country--Florence, Dillon, Mullins--every kind of place. Same price roast or raw, fifty cents a bushel.

"I bout to quit up with sell. All the lawyer. Turn all my papers over to Mr. Burris. I got too much of paper in that Con-o-way. Court House. Got more paper in there than the house worth! Have to step to Con-o-way all the time. Struggle and starve myself out for these fifteen acres. Thirty miles to Con-o-way. Thirty miles back by the course I travels. All them tricky mens try to go and get old Ben's land sign to 'em. That's the mainest thing take me to Con-o-way every week. They all talk so sugar mouth till my name down; then when my name write is another thing. When I in too much trouble, I just has to step up to Con-o-way and see Mr. Burris. He's a good man.

"They try to mix old Ben up in this whiskey business. It look too brutish to me.

"Missis, I want to tell you all I kin but the old man punish with this bone felom (felon). Worse'n I ever been punish in all my eighty five year. Crab bite 'em and ister (oyster) cut 'em (hand). Woman die and bury Sunday have hand just like this. If you say so, I'll go to doctor. Don't want no blood poison. He (bone felon) did act like he trying to dry up. I tie pea leaf on 'em. Can't put my hand to my head."

The next day Uncle Ben was found with the doctor's white bandage very muddy. Uncle Ben had gotten out of bed to go get oysters and even the bone felon did not stop him. Uncle Ben is still hale and hearty, having triumphed over the bone felon, and is one of the noted characters of that region.

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

FOLKLORE

Uncle Ben Horry (Reb's time nigger--over 80) (Uncle Ben and visitors)

Uncle Ben: (To white children) "Go on see if you can find one or two plum on duh tree. I been want to go to town wid you--dat all right daughter. (He pronounces it Dater--long Italian 'A') Chillun, ain't find duh plum, enty? Dem Sandy Island people come and clean the tree. Too sorry wonneh ain't get them plum!

"Stella gone in creek fishing. Him and Lula gone--Lula McCoy. You say me?" (To neighbor walking up) "Four men been here load they car up wid hand. How come you ain't gone to the bacco?" (To work in the tobacco fields in truck sent to find hands)

Pauline Pyatt: "If they ain't pay my price, I ain't going leave home. I ain't gone for 75¢ a day. Feenie Deas gone yestiddy."

Uncle Ben: "Near bout blind. Couldn't see out no eye nor nare (neither) one o' my eye. Doctor put sumptin in 'em do me too much o' good. How I is? Fall out? Deth come I fix! Don't know bout you!"

Pauline: "I fix!"

Mary Gary: "You fix, Uncle Ben?"

Uncle Ben: "I gwine fix!"

Pauline: "You ain't fix?"

Uncle Ben: "I fix all right! I going fudder dan duh grave!"

Pauline: "I been Tarbox." (To Mr. Tarbox)

Uncle Ben: "Down by Gallie?" (Gallie's house)

Pauline: "I ain't see nobody. What you see?"

Uncle Ben: "Ain't see nobody tall--tall--."

Pauline: "Alice! I see Alice!"

Uncle Ben: "Ain't see nobody else?"

Pauline: "Nobody else!"

Uncle Ben: "Nobody else?"

Pauline: "Nobody else. She by herself!"

Uncle Ben Reminisces

"Fore freedom? Fore freedom? Well now, fore freedom we were treated by our former owners I will say good--cording to situation of time. Every year when Massa and Missus gone mountains, they call up obersheer (overseer) and say, 'Don't treat them anyway severe. Don't beat them. Don't maul them.' (Mr. Heminingway been severe.)

"Anybody steal rice and they beat them, Miss Bessie cry and say, 'Let 'em have rice! My rice--my nigger!'

"Brookgreen and Springfield every Sunday morning, every gal and the young one must dress up and go to the yard and Miss Bessis give 'em candy. Don't want too much o' beating. Glad to see young women dance. But some cruel to the colored. Some on 'Prospect,'--'Hermitage'--and 'Woodland' treat all right.

"I know the Yankee boat come to Inlet and went to Oaks sea-shore with load of cotton. Band of our sojer gone--(Rebs--'OUR sojer!), and Yankee sojer come off in a yawl boat and our sojer caught two of them men and they hang that man to Oaks sea-shore. And when the Yankee find out--do my Lord! A stir been! A stir here! Shell clean to Sandy Island! Knock hole through the sick-house (at Brookgreen!) Pump! Well, ain't it? Brick work pump. Well. Handle. You turn! Turn. One bucket gone up; one gone down. Ward take care of his nigger, sho! Best man own slave! Ward and Ploughdon sho treat they nigger right! Live 'Laurel Hill.'

"Ward had on Prospect and Brookgreen. You know what I see? Right there to Oaks sea-sho after them people done that murdering with that man? Take all the slave, get on flat and gone out way of shell. Gone sand hole. Take all the people from Brookgreen and Springfield--and carry dem to Marlboro. Boat tow flat. Carmichael came through and established the freedom through here. They come back from Marlboro where they refugee to and Maham Ward come back on the flat. And this Ward, share out the rice--broke open barn. We people? Anything like a silver, bury right there in that garden! Right to Brookgreen garden, what Hontington got now. All Ward thing bury there. Them old time people kill you--you meddle them thing. Cry out, 'Massa Ting!' You better let 'em stay there!

"After Freedom Miss Bessie gone to she house in Charston--Rutledge Street Charston. And you could see way out in ocean.

"My fadder--him and Uncle Dan'l and Uncle Summer uster been fiddler. Gone all round when the white people gone to Prospect to ball and sich as that. Dem white people didn't treat you so brutish! Dem obersheer!" (Aside) "Wonder Christ sake why Lula stay out that creek so long!"

Pauline: "Fine season for corn!"

Ben: "Sho is!"

(Uncle Ben keeps a little grocery and fruit for sell. Customer comes)

"Missus, Take twenty cent out a dollar."

Pauline: "My grand-mother in that storm. They leave that Thursday. I been to Oaks. When Flagg storm wuz. Richmond come off Magnolia beach to Oaks Plantation and get the washing--the missus clean clothes. Had to swim the horse off the beach to get the clothes. I been on the beach Thursday--and cousin Joshuaway. Pony Myers daughter born in Brookgreen street day of storm. Pony Myers wife name Adele. Marse Arthur had one little twin. Joshua Stuart and Ben find dem to the end of Myrtle Beach. Arthur twin baby--bout that high--little walking chillun. Look how curious thing is! Them two chillun drown and find to the foot of Myrtle Beach! (fifteen or twenty miles north). Find Tom Duncan mother. Find Francis mother--Francis Gadsden. Doctor Ward pa--find him by duh vest. Vest sticking out duh mud. Watch going. My grand-mother was keep a walking from door to door.

"Find a mer-maid and kept to Magnolia." (Pauline said, 'mere-maid') "Doctor Ward and dem shut 'em up a month. Mer-maid. Had a storm ball. Keep a turning round. Keep a telling him (Dr. Arthur) storm coming. He wouldn't b'lieve 'em. (Barometer--called by Uncle Isaac's wife, gatekeeper at Brookgreen, chronometer.) He wouldn't b'lieve. And a cussing man! All the time cuss! Mere-maid got a forked tail just like shark. From here down (illustrating by pantomine) all blue scale like a cat-fish. Pretty people! Pretty a white woman as you ever lay your eye on."

Ben: "Pretty, enty?"

Pauline: "Dem stay in sea. Dey walk--slide long on tail." (twisting from her waist to illustrate.) Pretty. From they waist down to tail blue scale. You got a bathing house on beach. Leave bread in there. They sho eat bread.

"Marse Allard say top of the barn fly off. Cat jump and on it! And horse too. And he jump too and tide bring 'em to Brookgreen.

"Joshuaway Stuart been plantation carpenter. He made one box for the twin what drown and Colonel Mortimer bring one from Georgetown."

(Aunt Stella and Lula arriving from fishing trip)

"What ketch?"

Lula: "Get some catty!" (cat-fish) "Mary, you dress down!"

Mary: "I gwine ketch me a fellow! (Looking in bucket) Gosh! Did got a good mess!"

Lula: "Little fellow."

Mary: "Rather eat them than large one."

Pauline: "What yinnah nuse for bait?"

Lula: "Swimp."

Pauline: "How you catch 'em?"

Lula: "Take a crocus and dip 'em up."

Pauline: "I gwine try to-morrow."

Lula: "To-morrow been Sundy! How old I is? Have to put a guess on 'em. Bout fifty I guess. Flagg storm? That big one? When the storm wuz, I wuz seven year old."

(Discuss Reb time and Flagg storm.)

Pauline: "Yes. Wind bring young Allard in to Uncle Joshuaway Stuart field right down there where Cindy Poinsett now. Joshuaway been Cindy Pa.

"Doctor Ward shut that mere-maid up. He been in that! When that storm wuz, he wuzn't old. I go there now and talk bout that storm and he eye get full o' water. Looker his Papa clothes. Got 'em all pack in trunk. I never shee 'um court myself. Every time I shee 'um with a crowd o' man.

"Long as he have mere-maid shut up, it rain! People gone there to look at 'em. Long as keep 'em shut up it rain. That time rain thirty days. That just fore Flagg storm." (Looking toward creek) "Yonder Stella, wonneh, now!"

(Uncle Ben gave each white child a little cake--then gave, from his hand, hunks of corn bread to each colored woman.)

Conversation taken down on Uncle Ben Horry's porch where he sat awaiting the return of Aunt Stella who had gone 'in the creek' to 'catch a mess o' fish.' Murrells Inlet, S.C. June 15, 1937.

Project 1655 Genevieve W. Chandler Georgetown County, S.C.

FOLKLORE

(VERBATIM) MISS GEORGIE AT WOODLAND EX-SLAVE STORY

"He was a full-blooded man--the Cap'n. Didn't disgrace. He put goat on Goat Island. Money was bury to Goat Island. People after people been sent. I dinnah know wedder they find or no.

"Mack McCosky was sent by the State to fetch molasses, meal and hominy and goat on Goat Island. He can't tell you! People can't know sumpin when they ain't born!

"After de war 'e come back and take into big drinkin' and was 'em (waste them) till 'e fall tru. He been fell tru wid his money (lost his property). Didn't bury so destent (decent).

"We smaller one didn't have chance to go to war. My Daddy have for go. Have to go ditch and all and tend his subshun. His subshun was waste and steal. Paris! He the man control all the Buckra ting. And, by God, he go and show Yankee all dem ting! Ole Miss git order to have him kill and don't harm none! She ain't one to see him tru all that thousand head o' nigger for get 'em.

"They come have big dinner. Cap'n come from Muldro. (Marlboro). Drum beatin' little one dancin'. Gone back to Muldro. (Maham Ward and these udder come from Muldro.) And they leave ting in Uncle William Gaillard hand. And he carry on till everting surrender. And then the Cap'n come home from Muldro and they try give you sumpin to make start on like cow and ting. They ain't treat you like a beast. Ain't take no advance o' you. What the Cap'n do he do for you good. I b'long Dr. Ward. I entitle to bring him two string o' bird. Rice bird come like jest as tick as dat (thick as that) Sometimes a bushel one shot.

"They put you in the flat and put you over there. When they tink Yankee comin' you take to Sandhole Crick for hide. Mr. Carmichael sent by the state. Go to Brookgreen, Longwood, Watsaw. Tell everting surrender. Go to any located place. He's a Gineral. Go open the barn door and give us all us need. He better to we nigger boy dan he Daddy been! Wouldn't beat you 'thout the lil' boy really fightin'.

"Time o' the war the colored people hear 'bout Yankee. Not a one eber understand to run way and go to Yankee boat from WE plantation. These Yankee people wuz walkin' 'bout on the beach. And while they come in to the hill, the Reb have a battery to Laurel Hill and they cut off them Yankee from the ocean. These they cut off they carry dem to Brookgreen barn. Hang one colored man and one white man to Oaks Seashore. White man musser be Sergeant or big Cap'n. Just as soon as the sun go down you see a big streak come over and they BUSS (bust) Duds. Woman in the street killed. (Street of negro Quarters--Brookgreen) Blacksmith killed. Cut off he brudder-in-law (Judy's) and kill Judy. Dem shell go clean to Sandy Island. Pump make out o' brick to Brookgreen. Dat boy (shell) come and hit the pump. De horn blow and they make for flat and gwine on to Sandhole down that black crick. There a man for dat--dat flat. Get everbody line up. Ain't gone there for PLAY. Gone for wuk (work). I was big 'nouf to do diss--go wid my fadder and hold light.

"It this way. You ain't LOW to eat the whole rice you kin make money outer. Beat dat rice. But my Daddy been a great whiskey man. Liquor. Didn't have 'em less he go to town. Money scase. ('E wuz a kind of musicianer for the Ward fambly). But he break he jug. He break he whiskey jug. En when de obersheer (overseer) git out de ration and gib'em to mah Ma and us chillun he hand mah Pa a piece o' dem break jug! That keep him in mind o' that whiskey jug.

"Yankee come here and butt us colored people. I 'member we youngun's just could 'tote up dem gold pitcher and bury dem in the garden. Not far from the flowers tank. Tank have on 'em a woman head (Flowers' tank was a fountain). All the master fine ting way down there bury! De Ward didn't loss nothin'. They move us out the plantation. Col. Ward took 'em in a flat to Mulbro.

"Dr. Heriot after the war took into big drinkin'. Didn't bury so decent. Fell tru wid all he money. Not bury so decent."

=Source:= Told by Uncle Ben Horry, Age 88, April 1938, Murrells Inlet, S.C.

Project #1655 Everett R. Pierce Columbia, S.C.

INTERVIEW WITH EX-SLAVE MARGARET HUGHES, 82 YEARS.

"Missy, I likes to talk to de white folks, I gits awful lonesome for my massa and missus, and de white folks I used to be wid. Yes'm, I was born out here 'bout ten miles from Columbia, at a little place called Nipper Hill. My massa was named Daniel Finley, and my missus was named Elizabeth, but we called her Missy Betsy. My massa had a big plantation and a heap of slaves; he had so many he couldn't keep us faces in his mind. One day he see some of us over on another plantation, and he ask us who we b'long to, and we tell him, and he just smile and say he couldn't 'member all of us. De massa and de missus was so good to us 'til de slaves on other plantations was jealous; they call us free niggers befo' we was freed.

The grown-up slaves had to work in de field all day and then at night they spin cloth and make their clothes. We had one shoemaker what didn't do nothing else much 'cept make shoes for all of us. I was too young to do much work, so the missus mostly keep me in de house to nurse de chillun. When de chillun go to school, she make me go 'long wid them for to look after them and tote their books. I stayed wid them all day and brought their books home in de evening.

I got in trouble one day while I was at de school house; I was a right bad little gal, anyway. I got mad wid one of de little white chillun 'cause she talk mean to Sissy, dat's one of my missus little girls, and I took her books and put them in a bucket of water. The teacher punish me, and told my missus I couldn't come back to de school house, 'less she teach me how to behave more better. I was right good after that, 'cause I was scared of whippings. My missus had three chillun: Mary, we call her Sissy 'cause she de oldest, then Sally and Willie. I slept in de big house and play wid de white chillun. When de white folks went off in de carriage they always let me go too; I set up in de seat wid de driver. They had awful pretty horses to drive.

Massa Daniel had a overseer, named Jake Graddick. He kept de slaves at work and looked after de crops. He woke de slaves every morning by blowing a big cow horn, and called them to dinner the same way. We went to work at sunrise, had two hours for dinner, and stopped work at sundown.

The slaves had plenty to eat, and had their own gardens. I helped work de gardens. My old daddy worked in de garden and made chairs for de slaves, besides working in de fields.

My massa never whip de slaves very much, but he do sometime. Once I saw my poor old daddy in chains. They chained his feet together, and his hands too, and carry him off to whip him, 'cause he wouldn't tell who stole a trunk that was missing. He couldn't tell though, 'cause he didn't know, but they thought he did.

No ma'am missy, us slaves never had no church to go to. We was allowed to go to de white folks' church though. There was a low partition in de church wid a little gate in it; we set on one side of it, and de white folks on de other. We listen to de preaching and sung de songs right 'long wid de white folks. Us never had no baptizings though. I learned a heap of things in Sunday School.

Talking 'bout patrollers, I was awful scared of them. We had to have a pass from our massa to go from one plantation to another, and if we went without a pad the patrollers would ketch us and whip us. I never did get ketched though. De only time de massa ever let us ride de horses was when he want us to carry a message from one plantation to another.

Yes ma'am, 'bout these weddings you asked me 'bout; well, we had a big time when any of de slaves got married. De massa and de missus let them get married in de big house, and then we had a big dance at one of de slave house. De white folks furnish all kinds of good things to eat, and de colored peoples furnish de music for de dance. My mammy's brother been one of de best fiddlers there was; he teach de other niggers how to play.

The best times we had was 'long in summer time, 'tending them Camp Meetings. We had good men to preach de service, and then all of us women got together and spread a big picnic dinner, that we'd brought from home in baskets, and we sure had a good time. Sometime some of them eat so much they get sick. We ain't had so much sickness 'long them times though, not like we do now. Us used to wear garlic and asafetida 'round our neck to keep off diseases; never had many neither. We was vaccinated to keep from ketching smallpox.

Well little missy, I done told you just 'bout all I 'members 'cept 'bout de Yankees. When I used to hear de older niggers talking 'bout de Yankees coming, I was scared, 'cause I thought it was some kind of animal they was talking 'bout. My old aunty was glad to hear 'bout de Yankees coming. She just set and talk 'bout what a good time we was going to have after de Yankees come. She'd say; 'Child we going to have such a good time a settin' at de white folks table, a eating off de white folks table, and a rocking in de big rocking chair.'

Something awful happen to one of de slaves though, when de Yankees did come. One of de young gals tell de Yankees where de missus had her silver, money and jewelry hid, and they got it all. What you think happened to de poor gal? She'd done wrong I know, but I hated to see her suffer so awful for it. After de Yankees had gone, de missus and massa had de poor gal hung 'til she die. It was something awful to see. De Yankees took everything we had 'cept a little food, hardly 'nough to keep us alive.

When de slaves were freed de most of them didn't had nowhere to go, so we just stayed on wid de massa and missus and they was good to us as long as we stayed wid them. I wishes sometime I was a slave again, 'cause I likes being a slave, didn't have nothing to worry 'bout then."

Home address 3105 Asylum Road.

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, May 18, 1937

No. ---- Reduced from ---- words Rewritten by ----

MOM HESTER HUNTER Ex-Slave, 85 years.

"Well, bless ye little heart, honey, ye say ye is wan' me to tell ye 'bout how de people lived way back dere in slavery time. Honey, I dunno wha' to tell ye cause I ain' never been treated no ways but good in me life by my Missus. I tell dese chillun here dat dey ain' never see no sech time uz dere been den. My Missus been marry Massa John Bethea en dey is raise dey flock up dere to de crossroads next Latta. Dat whey I been raise. Honey, my Missus see to it she self dat we look a'ter in de right way. Ain' never been made to do no work much den. Jes played dere in de back yard wid me dolls aw de time I wanna. Honey, I dunno nuthin to tell ye cause I is lib lak uh lamb in dem days."

"I wus born on de 25th uv December, right on de big Chrissmus day, dere on Massa John plantation en I was 14 year old when freedom declare. I is 85 year old now en, honey, me health jes uz good now uz ever it wuz. My Missus take sech good care uv us aw de time en see a'ter us she self when we sick en I is take sech good care uv me self a'ter I leab dere dat I 'spect to be here long time from now. Ain' know no ailment tall. Coase de rheumatism is worry me right smart on uh night. Honey, dis rheumatism ain' been cause from no bad teeth. I is hab eve'y tooth in me head wha' I hab when I wuz 7 year old en dey jes uz good uz dey was den. It jes dis way, jes uz long uz I is workin', I feels mighty smart, mighty smart, child!"

"I 'clare to goodness white folks come down here jes to hear me talk. Honey, I is wish I could stay wid yunnah aw de day. I could tell yunnah aw 'bout dem days cause I ain' know nuthin but big living den. I tell me grandchillun dat dem times 'ud be uh show for dem now. My Massa had uh big plantation, honey, uh big plantation! Right in de center wuz me Missus house en den dere wuz two long row uv we house to de right dere on de place close to de big house. I 'members when de plantation hand wha' work in de field been come to de house in de middle uv de day to ge' dey dinner, I been lub to stand 'round de big pot en watch em when dey ge' dey sumptin to eat. Yas'um, dey is cook aw de food for de field hand in de same big ole black pot out in de yard. Yas'um, dey is put aw de victual in one pot. Dey'ud go to de smokehouse en cut off uh whole half uh side uv bacon en drap it right in dat pot. Dat been flavor de pot jes right cause in dem days, us ration been season wid meat. Honey, dere 'ud be 'bout thirty uv dem hand wha' had to eat out dat pot. Dere been uh shelter built over de pot to keep de rain out en den dere was uh big scaffold aw 'round de pot whey de put de pans when dey dish de victual up. De field hands 'ud come dere en ge' dey pan uv ration offen dis scaffold."

"Now de chillun on de plantation ain' been 'low to eat outer dat pot wid de field hand. My auntie cook us victuals right dere in de kitchen on de Missus fireplace an we eat right dere outer us own separate pan. My Missus see she self dat we been fed right en she see dat de food been cook done, cook done, honey, en been seasoned right aw de time. My Missus ain' never stand fa me to go widout me meat fa break'ast. Al'ays had hominy en milk en meat fa me break'ast en when supper time come, dey is al'ays gi'e us uh big bowl uv corn bread en milk. Folks ain' eat den lak dey does nowadays. Dey been eat more meat den en it ain' hu't dem lak it hu'ts em now. Honey, peoples ain' lib peaceful lak dey been lib den. Den peoples ain' cook dey food done lak de food been cook den. My auntie cook aw de bread right dere in de kitchen on de fireplace. I is hab some uv dem spider right here in de yard now. (She showed us two iron spiders about 8 inches deep with three legs. One was being used in the yard as a drinking place for the chickens and the other was carelessly thrown just under the edge of her house.) When I come 'way from my Missus plantation, I been take care uv wha' I bring 'way wid me. Dere uh ole loom dere in de house right now. I 'members how I use 'er lub to lie down on de Missus floor under de loom en watch my auntie when she wuz spinning dere."

"Dey'ud hab gray sheep en white sheep den en dey'ud make sech nice cloth. Yas'um, dey'ud dye de cloth right dere on de plantation. I 'member aw 'bout dat. De Missus hab uh big patch uv indigo dat dey growed right dere en dey'ud gather it en boil it in de pot en den dey'ud take de cloth dat my auntie is help weave an put it in dat pot en dye it jes uz pretty. My Missus see to it she self dat de plantation peoples clothes been make right en dat we is hab nice clean place to sleep. De Missus never 'low none uv us to lay down in rags. She see 'bout aw dis she self. I know my Missus gone to Hebbun, honey, en I hope she restin' dere."

=Source:= Mom Hester Hunter, age 85, colored. (Personal interview, Marion, S.C., May 1937.)

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, October 15, 1937

No. ---- Reduced from ---- words Rewritten by ----

MOM HESTER HUNTER Ex-Slave, 85 Years

"Yes, mam, I remember all bout slavery time just as good as I know you dis mornin. Remember de first time dem Yankees come dere, I was settin down in de chimney corner en my mammy was givin me my breakfast. Remember I been settin dere wid my milk en my bowl of hominy en I hear my old grandmammy come a runnin in from out de yard en say all de sky was blue as indigo wid de Yankees comin right dere over de hill den. Say she see more Yankees den could ever cover up all de premises bout dere. Den I hear my Missus scream en come a runnin wid a lapful of silver en tell my grandmammy to hurry en sew dat up in de feather bed cause dem Yankees was mighty apt to destroy all dey valuables. Old Missus tell all de colored people to get away, get away en take care of demselves en tell we chillun to get back to de chimney corner cause she couldn' protect us noways no longer. Yes, honey, I was a little child settin dere in dat chimney corner listenin to all dat scamperin bout en I remember dat day just as good as it had been dis day right here."

"Oh, my God, dem Yankees never bring nothin but trouble en destructiveness when dey come here, child. I remember I hear tell dat my old stepfather been gone to de mill to grind some corn en when he was comin down de road, two big Yankees jump out de bushes side de road en tell him stop dere. He say dey tell him if he want to save his neck, he better get off dat ox right den en get away from dere. He say he been so scared he make for de woods fast as he could get dere en tell dat he lay down wid knots under his head many a night fore he would venture to come out from dat woods. Never hear tell of his ox en corn no more neither. Oh, honey, my old Missus was a dear old soul en didn' none of her colored people have no mind to want to leave dere no time."

"We chillun never didn' know nothin bout no hard times in dat day en time. Seems like de Lord had just open up en fix de way for us to have everything we want. Oh, honey, we chillun never been harness up in no little bit of place to play like dese chillun bout here dese days. We had all de big fields en de pretty woods to wander round en bout en make us playhouse in. Seems like de Lord had made de little streams just right for we chillun to play in en all kind of de prettiest flowers to come up right down side de paths us little feet had made dere, but dat wasn' nothin. Dere was flowers scatter bout everywhe' you look in de woods en all kind of birds en squirrels en rabbits en honey, dey was live play things. Dat how-come we been so satisfy. I here to tell you my old Missus was a dear old soul en we chillun sho had a fine time comin up. She didn' never have her niggers cut up en slashed up no time. She was good to us en we stuck to her."

"In de mornin bout dis time, me en my Missus would take a walk in de woods down by de creek. I remember I would be dere wid my mammy en old Missus would say, 'Judy, whe' Hester? I want her to take a walk wid me dis mornin.' I been bout five or six years old den en I would get tired. I say, 'Mittie, I tired, I tired.' She say, 'Well, set down en rest awhile.' I remember dere been a big old sweet gum tree settin dere side de creek dat had a place hollow out in it dat looked just like a chair been made dere. Old Missus would set down dere en take me right down side her en stay dere till we was rested. I go wid her one day when de creek been rise way up high en dere been a heap of water in de road. I say, 'Mittie, I scared, I scared.' She tell me dere couldn' nothin hurt me en I remember we went on en see a big black fish just a jumpin in de road. Old Missus say, 'Hester, catch him, catch him.' I say, 'Mittie, I can', I can', I scared.' I recollects she caught dat fish en tied it wid her garter en let me drag it home en tell my mammy cook it for my supper. Honey, dat been a day. Never couldn' forget bout dat."

"I remember me en my old Missus went to de graveyard one mornin en we found a runaway nigger hidin in a house dat was standin in de graveyard. Dat was an old, old slavery time house to de graveyard en people would go dere en hide. It was just like dis, honey, generally people in de country be scared of a graveyard en wouldn' nobody go dere to hunt dem. I remember just as good when he see us, he squatted down right low. I say, 'Mittie, looka, looka, I scared.' Den she say, 'Hester, I notice de clouds are growin more en more gray en I fear we better be gettin back home. I never like for a rain to catch us away from home.' I know Missus say dat to make me think she wasn' scared, but I never had no mind to tell her I know what been de matter dat she want to hurry home. Yes'um, dat old house in de graveyard was one of dem kind dat been settin high off de ground. Dat de kind of house dey cook underneath in slavery time. Cose it was closed up when dey had de kitchen down dere. No, mam, Massa never didn' go to walk wid old Missus. He was seein over all de plantation en Missus didn have but one son, little John O. Bethea, en he was gone off to school. No, child, old Missus wouldn' never allow nobody to go wid her but just me."

"You see, it was like dis, my old Missus been name Sara Davis fore she marry Massa John Bethea en my mammy en grandmammy had come up wid her in de country en dat how-come dere been such a feelin twixt dem. Yes, mam, I love my old Missus better den I ever love honey en flour bread cause she was a dear old soul. You see, she was always lookin to me to do somethin for her. Say I was her favorite child to pick up things bout de house en yard for her. She always had my mammy preserve me en Bob as her favorite house chillun. She wouldn' never allow none of dem other nigger chillun to come nowhe' round whe' she was cause dem what went bout de Missus never didn' stay to de nigger quarter no time. My grandmammy, she had to get all dem other plantation chillun together en see dat dey do what de Missus look for dem to do."

"My God, child, people never know nothin but to go to church on de big Sunday in dat day en time. No, mam, dey know dat been dey Massa rule en didn' nobody have no mind to question nothin bout it. My old Missus was a dear old soul en she would see to it dat all her niggers wash en iron en cook on Saturday cause she never allow no work gwine on round whe' she was when Sunday come, be dat she know bout it. I remember my old Massa en Missus used to ride to church in dey big black carriage en dey always would carry me en Bob right dere in de carriage wid dem somehow another. Stuff us down 'tween de seats somewhe'. I recollects just as bright as de stars be shinin old Missus would carry me en Bob to de same little seats we been sit in every Sunday en den she en old Massa would go to dey certain pew in de front part of de church. Oh, honey, dat was a day for dem niggers to walk de road to church. Dat was a picnic for dem. Oh, dey never had to walk but bout four miles. Why, darlin, I used to walk fourteen miles to church every Sunday en didn' think nothin bout it. I think dat was de finest thing I know for me en my grandfather to walk 14 miles to church over dere on de hill every Sunday. I remember we would set out bout time de sun would be risin. Yes, mam, we would carry our dinner wid us cause we know we would be till night gettin back home again. It just like I been tell you, de peoples sho cook dey dinner for Sunday on Saturday in dat day en time. Dat been a mighty good thing, child, been a mighty good thing. Honey, it been de rule to follow what de Bible say do in dat day en time en now it seem like de rule must be, do like you see de other fellow is doin. Yes, mam, if you ain' been to church in dat day en time, you sho had to report how-come you ain' been dere."

"I tell you, child, I been here. If I live to see de Christmas day, I'll be past 85 years old. I ain' been up town in God knows when en I wants to go so bad back to see my white folks. Dem Evans chillun, dey comes to see me often. Dat child had took dat trip round de world en she come right back en tell me all bout it. Well, bless my heart, she done gone en get married last Sunday en I never know bout it. She tell me she was gwine marry one of dese days, but I never know. I hope dat man will take care of her en be good to my baby. I hope her older days won' be her worser days."

"Yes, mam, I remember just as good as it was yesterday what dey say when freedom come here. Oh, I hates to think bout dat day till dis one. Remember dey call all de niggers up to de yard en I hear old Missus say, 'You don' no more belong to me. You can go if you want to en if you want to, you can stay.' I say, 'Yes, mam, I do want to stay, I ain' gwine leave you.' Dat was my white mammy en I stay dere long as she live too. Didn' want no better livin den I was gettin right dere. It been a Paradise, be dat what I calls it."

=Source:= Hester Hunter, ex-slave, 85 years, Marion, S.C. Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, Oct., 1937.

Code No. Project, 1885-(1) Prepared by Annie Ruth Davis Place, Marion, S.C. Date, October 26, 1937

No. ---- Reduced from ---- words Rewritten by ----

MOM HESTER HUNTER Ex-Slave, 85 Years

"Bless my soul, honey, I tell you I been here a time. Been here a day. I tell dese chillun here de other week dere ain' no need for me to be frettin bout nothin no more cause my time bout out. I got my ducks en my chickens en my chair right dere in de yard en I stays out dere wid dem all de day till sundown. You see, I have such a hurtin in my back en such a drawin in my knees en seems like de sun does just help me along to bear de pain, but honey, I been walkin a long time. I remember I been a little child in de bed listenin on en I hear my aunt come in one day en say, 'Ma, I hear boss talkin bout dey gwine free de niggers.' Ma say, 'I don' have no mind for nothin like dat. I gwine be gone en you gwine be gone too fore den.' Child, I sho been here a time. Remember dey been four years buildin dem embankments en dey been four years fightin. Yes, mam, I been through a day since I come here."

"Honey, I was a hustlier when I was a young woman en dat de reason my chillun had such good schoolin. If it had been left to my husband, dey wouldn' been know A from B. I think bout how my old Massa used to try to learn me to spell en dat how-come I had such a feelin for my chillun to get some learnin. My daughter, she taught 20 years in dat school right over dere en when she see dat I wasn' able to carry on no longer, she throwed up her hands one day en say she wasn' gwine teach school no more. Tell Bill en dem chillun dat she was gwine stay here home en keep me from fallin in de pots. Den she put out de word dat she would do a washin for dis one en a washin for dat one en honey, I see her dere washin so hard sometimes, I have a feelin dat I would rather she be out en gone from here. Seems like it does hurt me so to see her wastin away like dat after I been worry so to give her such a good school learnin."

"I tell you when I come up, it de Lord's truth, I ain' know nothin but a decent livin all de time. My old Missus was a dear old soul en I been raise dat way. I hear talk bout how some of de white folks would bout torture dey niggers to death sometimes, but never didn' see my white folks allow nothin like dat. Dey would whip dey niggers dat runaway en stay in de woods, but not so worser. No, mam, my Missus wouldn' allow no slashin round bout whe' she was. I remember my boss had one of my old Missus niggers up dere in de yard one mornin en say he was gwine whip him en my Missus say, 'John O., you let my nigger alone.' You see, my Missus had her niggers en den old Boss had his niggers cause when old Missus been marry Massa John O. Bethea, she had brought here share of niggers from whe' she was raise in de country. It been like dis, old Missus father had scratch de pen for everyone of his chillun to have so many niggers apiece for dey portion of his property so long as dey would look after dem en treat dem good. Den if dere been talk dat dem chillun never do what he say do, dey was to take dem niggers right back to dey old Massa home. But, child, dey never didn' take no niggers away from my old Missus cause she sho took care of dem. Stuck to her niggers till she died."

"I remember just as good dere been two long row of nigger house up in de quarter en de Bethea niggers been stay in de row on one side en de Davis niggers been stay in de row on de other side. En, honey, dere been so much difference in de row on dis side en de row on dat side. My God, child, you could go through dere en spot de Sara Davis niggers from de Bethea niggers time you see dem. Won' no trouble no time. All old Missus niggers had dey bresh (brush) pile side dey house to sun dey beds on en dry dey washin cause my Missus would see to it herself dat dey never kept no nasty livin. We was raise decent, honey, en dat how-come me en my chillun is dat way to dis very day. Dere dat child in de house now, she does put fresh sheet on all us bed every week just like dey was white people bed. You see, if you raise dat way, you ain' gwine never be no ther way. Yes, mam, my old Missus sho took time to learn her niggers right. Honey, both dese hands here was raise not to steal. I been cook for heap of dese white folks bout here dat been left everything right wide open wid me en ain' nobody never hear none of dem complain bout losin nothin to dis day. No, mam, ain' nobody never didn' turn no key on me. I remember, if my old Missus would hear talk dat we been bother somethin dat didn' belong to us, she would whip us en say, 'I'm not mad, but you chillun have got to grow up some day en you might have to suffer worse den dis if you don' learn better while you young."

"Yes, mam, dat been a day. Dem niggers what been bred on Massa John C. Bethea's plantation never know nothin but big livin in dat day en time. Remember all bout dem days. Recollect dat dey would give all dey colored people so much of flour for dey Sunday eatin en den dey had a certain woman on de place to cook all de other ration for de niggers in one big pot out in old Massa's yard. All de niggers would go dere to de pot on Sunday en get dey eatin like turnips en collards en meat en carry it to dey house en make dey own bread. Den in de week time, dey would come out de field at 12 o'clock en stand round de pot en eat dey pan of ration en den dey would go back in de field en work. When dey would come home at night, dere would be enough cook up for dem to carry home to last till de next day dinner. Didn' eat no breakfast no time. Had meat en greens en corn bread en dumplings to eat mostly en won' no end to milk. Got plenty of dat en dey was sho glad to get it. Cose dem what been stay to de white folks house would eat to de Missus kitchen. En, my Lord, child, my white folks had de prettiest kind of rice dat dey made right dere on dey own plantation. Had plenty rice to last dem from one year to de other just like dey had dey hominy. Den old Massa had a big fish pond en in de summer time when it would get too hot to work, he would allow all his plantation niggers to catch all de pikes en jacks dey wanted en salt dem down in barrels for de winter. Didn' allow nobody to go nowhe' bout dat fish pond but us niggers. En another thing, dey wouldn' cure dey meat wid nothin but dis here green hickory wood en I speak bout what I been know, dere ain' never been nothin could touch de taste of dem hams en shoulder meat. Oo--oo--oo, honey, dey would make de finest kind of sausages in dem days. I tell my chillun I just bout turn against dese sausage de people make bout here dese days."

"Yes, mam, I been hearin bout dat thing call conjurin all my days, ever since I been in dis world, but I ain' never put no faith in nothin like dat. I say, I don' want no hand but what God give me. I remember I got de sore eyes one time en a woman come to me en say, 'Miss Hester, dere a woman in dis town poison you.' Tell me dey put somethin on de rag I had wipe my eyes wid. I tell her she was wastin her speech cause I know I never had nothin to worry bout. It de blessed truth I'm tellin you, dere some of dese people right bout here now got dese transfer driver gwine down in de country to get people to do somethin for dem all de time. Honey, if some people in dis town had dis rheumatism I got, dey would swear somebody do somethin to dem. Oh, my God, dere so much devilment gwine on in de world dese days. I sho has faith in God en I reckon dat how-come I gets along so good."

"Oh, de people, dey is awful worser den what dey used to be. I know by my comin on dat dey awful worser. De little tots bout here dese days know things de older people used to be de only ones dat know bout. Yes, mam, I sets down en prays when others sleep en I say, 'Lord, what gwine happen? Look like de young people on de straight road to hell gettin in so much devilment. When I was comin up, I didn' have nothin to grieve over, but seem like dere somethin all de time dese days. I does worry bout it so much sometimes, child, I goes along just a whistlin, 'Lord, I wish I had went fore I had so much to grieve over.'

=Source:= Hester Hunter, age 85, Marion, S.C. Personal interview by Annie Ruth Davis, October, 1937.