Part 1

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SLAVE NARRATIVES

_A Folk History of Slavery in the United States_

_From Interviews with Former Slaves_

TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY

THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT

1936-1938

ASSEMBLED BY

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT

WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION

FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

_Illustrated with Photographs_

WASHINGTON 1941

VOLUME XVI

TEXAS NARRATIVES--PART 4

Prepared by the Federal Writers' Project of

the Works Progress Administration

for the State of Texas

[HW:] Handwritten note

[TR:] Transcriber's note

INFORMANTS

- Mazique Sanco - Clarissa Scales - Hannah Scott - Abram Sells - George Selman - Callie Shepherd - Betty Simmons - George Simmons - Ben Simpson - Giles Smith - James W. Smith - Jordon Smith - Millie Ann Smith - Susan Smith - John Sneed - Mariah Snyder - Patsy Southwell - Leithean Spinks - Guy Stewart - William Stone - Yach Stringfellow - Bert Strong - Emma Taylor - Mollie Taylor - Jake Terriell - J.W. Terrill - Allen Thomas - Bill and Ellen Thomas - Lucy Thomas - Philles Thomas - William M. Thomas - Mary Thompson - Penny Thompson - Albert Todd - Aleck Trimble - Reeves Tucker - Lou Turner - Irella Battle Walker - John Walton - Sol Walton - Ella Washington - Rosa Washington - Sam Jones Washington - William Watkins - Dianah Watson - Emma Watson - James West - Adeline White - Sylvester Sostan Wickliffe - Daphne Williams - Horatio W. Williams - Lou Williams - Millie Williams - Rose Williams - Steve Williams - Wayman Williams - Willie Williams - Lulu Wilson - Wash Wilson - Willis Winn - Rube Witt - Ruben Woods - Willis Woodson - James G. Woorling - Caroline Wright - Sallie Wroe - Fannie Yarbrough - Litt Young - Louis Young - Teshan Young

*ILLUSTRATIONS*

Mazique Sanco Clarissa Scales Abram Sells George Selman Callie Shepherd Betty Simmons George Simmons Giles Smith James W. Smith Jordon Smith Millie Ann Smith John Sneed Mariah Snyder Leithean Spinks William Stone Yach Stringfellow Bert Strong Emma Taylor Allen Thomas Bill and Ellen Thomas Lucy Thomas Philles Thomas William M. Thomas Mary Thompson Penny Thompson Albert Todd Reeves Tucker Lou Turner Sol Walton Rosa Washington Sam Jones Washington William Watkins Emma Watson James West Adeline White Daphne Williams Lou Williams Lou Williams' House Millie Williams Steve Williams Wayman Williams and Henry Freeman Willie Williams Lulu Wilson Wash Wilson Willis Winn Rube Witt Ruben Woods Willis Woodson Sallie Wroe Litt Young Louis Young Teshan Young

Mazique Sanco

*Mazique Sanco was born a slave of Mrs. Louisa Green, in Columbia, South Carolina, on February 10, 1849. Shortly after Mazique was freed, he enlisted in the army and was sent with the Tenth Cavalry to San Angelo, then Fort Concho, Texas. After Mazique left the army he became well-known as a chef, and worked for several large hotels. Mazique uses little dialect. When asked where Mazique is, his young wife says, "In his office," and upon inquiry as to the location of this office, she replies mirthfully, "On de river," for since he is too old to work, Mazique spends most of his time fishing.*

"My mistress owned a beautiful home and three hundred twenty acres of land in the edge of Columbia, in South Carolina, just back of the state house. Her name was Mrs. Louisa Green and she was a widow lady. That's where I was born, but when her nephew, Dr. Edward Flemming, married Miss Dean, I was given to him for a wedding present, and so was my mother and her other children. I was a very small boy then, and when I was ten Dr. Flemming gave me to his crippled mother-in-law for a foot boy. She got crippled in a runaway accident, when her husband was killed. He had two fine horses, fiery and spirited as could be had. He called them Ash and Dash, and one day he and his wife were out driving and the horses ran the carriage into a big pine tree, and Mr. Dean was killed instantly, and Mrs. Dean couldn't ever help herself again. I waited on her. I had a good bed and food and was let to earn ten cent shin plasters.

"When the war was over she called up her five families of slaves and told us we could go or stay. Some went and some stayed. I was always an adventurer, wanting to see and learn things, so I left and went back to my mother with Mrs. Flemming.

"I only stayed there a few months and hired out to Major Legg, and worked for him several years. I felt I wasn't learning enough, so I joined the United States Army and with a hundred and eighty-five boys went to St. Louis, Missouri. From there we were transferred with the Tenth Cavalry to Fort Concho. I helped haul the lumber from San Antonio to finish the buildings at the fort. I was there five years.

"After I went to work at private employment I did some carpenter work, but most of the houses were adobe or pecan pole buildings, so I got a job from Mr. Jimmy Keating as mechanic for awhile, and then drifted to Mexico. Odd jobs were all I could get for awhile, so I landed in El Paso and got a job in a hotel.

"That was the start of my success, for I learned to be a skilled chef and superintended the kitchens in some of the largest hotels in Texas. I made as high as $80.00, in Houston. My last work was done at the St. Angelus Hotel here in San Angelo and if you don't believe I'm a good cook, just look at my wife over there. When I married her she was fourteen years old and weighed a hundred and fifteen pounds. Now it's been a long time since I could get her on the scales, not since she passed the two hundred pound mark."

Clarissa Scales

*Clarissa Scales, 79, was born a slave of William Vaughan, on his plantation at Plum Creek, Texas. Clarissa married when she was fifteen. She owns a small farm near Austin, but lives with her son, Arthur, at 1812 Cedar Ave., Austin.*

"Mammy's name was Mary Vaughan and she was brung from Baton Rouge, what am over in Louisiana, by our master. He went and located on Plum Creek, down in Hays County.

"Mammy was a tall, heavy-set woman, more'n six foot tall. She was a maid-doctor after freedom. Dat mean she nussed women at childbirth. She allus told me de last thing she saw when she left Baton Rouge was her mammy standin' on a big, wood block to be sold for a slave. Dat de last time she ever saw her mammy. Mammy died 'bout fifty years ago. She was livin' on a farm on Big Walnut Creek, in Travis County. Daddy done die a year befo' and she jes' grieves herself to death. Daddy was sho' funny lookin', 'cause he wore long whiskers and what you calls a goatee. He was field worker on de Vaughan plantation.

"Master Vaughan was good and treated us all right. He was a great white man and didn't have no over seer. Missy's name was Margaret, and she was good, too.

"My job was tendin' fires and herdin' hawgs. I kep' fire goin' when de washin' bein' done. Dey had plenty wood, but used corn cobs for de fire. Dere a big hill corn cobs near de wash kettle. In de evenin' I had to bring in de hawgs. I had a li'l whoop I druv dem with, a eight-plaited rawhide whoop on de long stick. It a purty sight to see dem hawgs go under de slip-gap, what was a rail took down from de bottom de fence, so de hawgs could run under.

"Injuns used to pass our cabin in big bunches. One time dey give mammy some earrings, but when they's through eatin' they wants dem earrings back. Dat de way de Injuns done. After feedin' dem, mammy allus say, 'Be good and kind to everybody.'

"One day Master Vaughan come and say we's all free and could go and do what we wants. Daddy and mammy rents a place and I stays until I's fifteen. I wanted to be a teacher, but daddy kep' me hoein' cotton most de time. Dat's all he knowed. He allus told me it was 'nough larnin' could I jes' read and write. He never even had dat much. But he was de good farmer and good to me and mammy.

"Dere was a school after freedom. Old Man Tilden was de teacher. One time a bunch of men dey calls de Klu Klux come in de room and say, 'You git out of here and git 'way from dem niggers. Don' let us cotch you here when we comes back.' Old Man Tilden sho' was scart, but he say, 'You all come back tomorrow.' He finishes dat year and we never hears of him 'gain. Dat a log schoolhouse on Williamson Creek, five mile south of Austin.

"Den a cullud teacher named Hamlet Campbell come down from de north. He rents a room in a big house and makes a school. De trustees hires and pays him and us chillen didn't have to pay. I got to go some, and I allus tells my granddaughter how I's head of de class when I does go. She am good in her studies, too.

"When I's fifteen I marries Benjamin Calhoun Scales and he was a farmer. We had five chillen and three boys is livin'. One am a preacher and Arthur am a cement laborer and Chester works in a printin' shop.

"Benjie dies on February 15th, dis year (1937). I lives with Arthur and de gov'ment gives me $10.00 de month. I has de li'l farm of nineteen acres out near Oak Hill and Floyd, de preacher, lives on dat. All my boys is good to me. Dey done good, and better'n we could, 'cause we couldn't git much larnin' dem days. I's had de good life. But we 'preciated our chance more'n de young folks does nowadays. Dey has so much dey don't have to try so hard. If we'd had what dey got, we'd thunk we was done died and gone to Glory Land. Maybe dey'll be all right when deys growed."

Hannah Scott

*Hannah Scott was born in slavery, in Alabama. She does not know her age but says she was grown when her last master, Bat Peterson, set her free. Hannah lives with her grandson in a two-room house near the railroad tracks, in Houston, Texas. Unable to walk because of a paralytic stroke, Hannah asked her grandson to lift her from the bed to a chair, from which she told her story.*

"Son, move de chair a mite closer to de stove. Dere, dat's better, 'cause de heat kind of soople me up. Ain't nothin' left of me but some skin and bones, nohow.

"Lemme see now. I's born in Alabama and I think dey calls it Fayette County. Mama's name was Ardissa and she 'long to Marse Clark Eccles, but us chillen allus call him White Pa. Miss Hetty, his wife, we calls her White Ma.

"I never knowed my own pa, 'cause he 'long to 'nother man and was sold away 'fore I's old 'nough to know him. Mama has five us chillen, but dey all dead 'ceptin' me. Dey didn't have no marriage back den like now. Dey just puts black folks together in de sight of man and not in de sight of Gawd, and dey puts dem asunder, too.

"Marse Eccles didn't have no big place and only nine slaves. I guess he what you calls 'poor folks,' but he mighty good to he black folks. I 'member when he sold us to Bat Peterson. He and White Ma break down and cry when old Bat puts us in de wagon and takes us off to Arkansas. I heared mama say something 'bout White Pa sellin' us for debt and he gits a hunerd dollars for me.

"Whoosh, it sho' was a heap dif'ent from Alabama. Marse Bat had niggers. I reckon he must of had a hunerd of dem and two nigger drivers, Uncle Green and Uncle Jake, and a overseer. Marse Bat was mean, too, and work he slaves from daylight till nine o'clock at night. I carries water for de hands. I carries de bucket on my head and 'fore long I ain't got no more hair on my head den you has on de palm of you hand. No, suh!

"When I gits bigger, de overseer puts me in de field with de rest. Marse Bat grow mostly cotton and it don't make no dif'ence is you big or li'l, you better keep up or de drivers burn you up with de whip, sho' 'nough. Old Marse Bat never put a lick on me all de years I 'longs to him, but de drivers sho' burnt me plenty times. Sometime I gits so tired come night, I draps right in de row and gone to sleep. Den de driver come 'long and, wham, dey cuts you 'cross de back with de whip and you wakes up when it lights on you, yes, suh! 'Bout nine o'clock dey hollers 'cotton up' and dat de quittin' signal. We goes to de quarters and jes' drap on de bunk and go to sleep without nothin' to eat.

"On old Bat's place dat all us know, is work and more work. De onlies' time we has off am Sunday and den we has to wash and mend clothes. De first Sunday of de month a white preacher come, but all he say is 'bedience to de white folks, and we hears 'nough of dat without him tellin' us.

"I 'member when White Pa come to try git mama and us chillen back. We been in Arkansas five, six year, and, whoosh, I sho' wants to go back to my White Pa, but old Bat wouldn't let us go. He come to our quarters dat night and tell mama if she or us chillen try to run off he'll kill us. Dey sho' watch us for awhile.

"Sometimes one of de niggers runs off but he ain't gone long. He gits hongry and comes back. Den he gits a burnin' with de bullwhip. Does he run 'way again, Marse Bat say he got too much rabbit in him and chains him up till he goes to Little Rock and sells him.

"I heared some white folks treat dey slaves good and give dem time off, but Marse Bat don't. We has plenty to eat and clothes, but dat all. Dat de way it was till we's freed, only it wasn't in Arkansas. It was down to Richmond, here in Texas, 'cause Marse Bat rents a farm at Richmond. He thunk if he brung us to Texas he wouldn't have to set us free. But he got fooled, 'cause a gov'ment man come tell us we's free. We had de crop planted and old Bat say if we'll stay through pickin' he'll pay us. Mama and us stayed awhile.

"I gits married legal with Richard Scott and we comes to Harrisburg and he gits a job on de section of de railroad. I's lived here ever since. My husban' and me raises five chillen, but only de one gal am alive now. My grandson takes care of me. He tells me iffen my husband lived so long, he be 107 years old. I know he was older dan me, but not 'xactly how much.

"Sometime I feel I's been here too long, 'cause I's paralyzed and can't move round none. But maybe de Lawd ain't ready for me yet, and de Debbil won't have me."

Abram Sells

*Abram Sells was born a slave on the Rimes Plantation, which was located about 18 miles southeast of Newton, Texas. He does not know his age, but must be well along in the 80's, as his recollections of slavery days are keen. He lives at Jamestown, Texas.*

"I was birthed on the Rimes Plantation, now called Harrisburg. My great-grand-daddy's name was Bowser Rimes and he was brung to Texas from Louisiana and die at 138 year old. He's buried on the old Ben Powell place close to Jasper. My grand-daddy, that's John, he lives to be 103 year old and he buried on the Eddy plantation at Jasper. My daddy, Mose Rimes, he die young at 86 and he buried in Jasper County, too. My mammy's name was Phoebe and she was birthed a Rimes nigger and brung to Texas from back in Louisiana. The year slaves was freed I was inherit by a man named Sells, what marry into the Rimes family and that's why my name's Sells, 'cause it change 'long with the marriage. Us was jes' ready to be ship back to Louisiana to the new massa's plantation when the end of the war break up the trip.

"You see, we all had purty good time on Massa Rimes's plantation. None of them carin' 'bout being sot free. They has to work hard all time, but that don' mean so much, 'cause they have to work iffen they was on they own, too. The old folks was 'lowed Saturday evenin' off or when they's sick, and us little ones, us not do much but bring in the wood and kindle the fires and tote water and he'p wash clothes and feed the little pigs and chickens.

"Us chillen hang round close to the big house and us have a old man that went round with us and look after us, white chillen and black chillen, and that old man was my great grand-daddy. Us sho' have to mind him, 'cause iffen we didn't, us sho' have bad luck. He allus have the pocket full of things to conjure with. That rabbit foot, he took it out and he work that on you till you take the creeps and git shakin' all over. Then there's a pocket full of fish scales and he kind of squeak and rattle them in the hand and right then you wish you was dead and promise to do anything. Another thing he allus have in the pocket was a li'l old dry-up turtle, jes' a mud turtle 'bout the size of a man's thumb, the whole thing jes' dry up and dead. With that thing he say he could do mos' anything, but he never use it iffen he ain't have to. A few times I seed him git all tangle up and boddered and he go off by hisself and sot down in a quiet place, take out this very turtle and put it in the palm of the hand and turn it round and round and say somethin' all the time. After while he git everything ontwisted and he come back with a smile on he face and maybe whistlin'.

"They fed all us nigger chillen in a big trough made out'n wood, maybe more a wood tray, dug out'n soft timber like magnolia or cypress. They put it under a tree in the shade in summer time and give each chile a wood spoon, then mix all the food up in the trough and us goes to eatin'. Mos' the food was potlicker, jes' common old potlicker; turnip green and the juice, Irish 'taters and the juice, cabbages and peas and beans, jes' anything what make potlicker. All us git round like so many li'l pigs and then us dish in with our wood spoon till it all gone.

"We has lots of meat at times. Old grand-daddy allus ketchin' rabbit in some kind of trap, mostly make out'n a holler log. He sot 'em round in the garden and sho' kotch the rabbits. And possums, us have a good possum dog, sometimes two or three, and every night you heered them dogs barkin' in the field down by the branch. Sho' 'nuf, they git possum treed and us go git him and parbile him and put him in the oven and bake him plumb tender. Then we stacks sweet 'taters round him and po' the juice over the whole thing. Now, there is somethin' good 'nuf for a king.

"There was lots of deer and turkey and squirrel in the wil' wood and somebody out huntin' nearly every day. Course Massa Rime's folks couldn't eat up all this meat befo' it spile and the niggers allus git a great big part of it. Then we kilt lots of hawgs and then talk 'bout eatin'! O, them chitlin's, sousemeat and the haslets, thats the liver and the lights all biled up together. Us li'l niggers fill up on sich as that and go to bed and mos' dream us is li'l pigs.

"Us allus have plenty to eat but didn't pay much 'tention to clothes. Boys and gals all dress jes' alike, one long shirt or dress. They call it a shirt iffen a boy wear it and call it a dress iffen the gal wear it. There wasn't no difference, 'cause they's all made out'n somethin' like duck and all white. That is, they's white when you fus' put them on, but after you wears them a while they git kind of pig-cullud, kind of grey, but still they's all the same color. Us all go barefoot in summer, li'l ones and big ones, but in winter us have homemake shoes. They tan the leather at home and make the shoe at home, allus some old nigger that kin make shoe. They was more like moc'sin, with lace made of deerskin. The soles was peg on with wood pegs out'n maple and sharpen down with a shoe knife.

"Us have hats make out'n pine straw, long leaf pine straw, tied together in li'l bunches and platted round and round till it make a kinder hat. That pine straw great stuff in them days and us use it in lots of ways. Us kivered sweet 'taters with it to keep them from git freeze and hogs made beds out'n it and folks too. Yes, sir, us slep' on it. The beds had jes' one leg. They bored two hole in the wall up in the corner and stuck two pole in them holes and lay plank on that like slats and pile lots of pine straw on that. Then they spread a homemake blanket or quilt on that and sometime four or five li'l niggers slep' in there to keep us warm.

"The li'l folks slep' mos' as long as they want to in daylight, but the big niggers have to come out'n that bed 'bout fo' o'clock when the big horn blow. The overseer have one nigger, he wake up early for to blow the horn and when he blow this horn he make sich a holler then all the res' of the niggers better git out'n that bed and 'pear at the barn 'bout daylight. He might not whip him for being late the fus' time, but that nigger better not forgit the secon' time and be late!

"Massa Rimes didn't whip them much, but iffen they was bad niggers he jes' sold them offen the place and let somebody else do the whippin'. Never have no church house or school, but Massa Rimes, he call them in and read the Bible to them. Then he turn the service over to some good, old, 'ligious niggers and let them finish with the singin' and prayin' and 'zorting. After peach [HW: "?"] cleared, a school was 'stablish and a white man come from the north to teach the cullud chillen, but befo' that they didn' take no pains to teach the niggers nothin' 'ceptin' to work, and the white chillen didn't have much school neither.

"That was one plantation what was run 'sclusively by itself. Massa Rimes have a commissary or sto' house, whar he kep' whatnot things--them what make on the plantation and things the slaves couldn' make for themselfs. That wasn't much, 'cause we make us own clothes and shoes and plow and all farm tools and us even make our own plow line out'n cotton and iffen us run short of cotton sometime make them out'n bear grass and we make buttons for us clothes out'n li'l round pieces of gourds and kiver them with cloth.

"That wasn't sich a big plantation, 'bout a t'ousand acre and only 'bout forty niggers. There was'n no jail and they didn't need none. Us have no real doctor, but of course there was a doctor man at Jasper and one at Newton, but a nigger have to be purty sick 'fore they call a doctor. There's allus some old time nigger what knowed lots of remedies and knowed all dif'rent kinds of yarbs and roots. My grand-daddy, he could stop blood, and he could conjure off the fever and rub his fingers over warts and they'd git away. He make ile out'n rattlesnake for the rheumatis'. For the cramp he git a kind of bark offen a tree and it done the job, too. Some niggers wo' brass rings to keep off the rheumatis' and punch hole in a penny or dime and wear that on the ankle to keep off sickness.

"'Member the war? Course I does. I 'member how some of them march off in their uniforms, lookin' so grand, and how some of them hide out in the wood to keep from lookin' so grand. They was lots of talkin' 'bout fighting, and rubbing and scrubbing the old shotgun. The oldes' niggers was settin' round the fire late in the night, stirrin' the ashes with the poker and rakin' out the roas' 'taters. They's smokin' the old corn cob pipe and homemake tobacco and whisperin' right low and quiet like what they's gwineter do and whar they's gwineter to when Mister Lincoln, he turn them free.

"The more they talk, the more I git scared that the niggers is going to git sot free and wondering what I's gwine to do if they is. No, I guess I don't want to live back in them times no mo', but I sho' seed lots of niggers not doin' so well as they did when they was slaves and not havin' nigh as much to eat."

George Selman

*George Selman was born in 1852, five miles east of Alto, Texas. His father was born in Virginia and his mother in South Carolina, and were brought to Texas by Mr. Dan Lewis. Green has been a Baptist minister since his youth. He lives in Jacksonville, Texas.*

"We was a big fam'ly, nine children. I was born a slave of the Selmans, Marster Tom and Missus Polly, and they lived in Mississippi. Mother's name was Martha and my father's name was John Green Selman.