Part 13

"My maw was in her cabin with a week old baby and one night twelve Klu Kluxses done come to the place. They come in by ones and she whopped 'em one at a time.

"I don't never recall just like, the passin' of time. I know I had my little boy young'un and he growed up, but right after he was born I left the Hodges and felt like it's a fine, good riddance. My boy died, but he left me a grandson. He growed up and went to 'nother war, and they done somethin' to him and he ain't got but one lung. He ain't peart no more. He's got four chillun and he makes fifty dollars a month. I'm crazy 'bout that boy and he comes to see me, but he can't holp me none in a money way. So I'm right grateful to the president for gittin' my li'l pension. I done study it out in my mind for three years and tell him, Lulu says if he will see they ain't no more slavery, and if they'll pay folks liveable wages, they'll be less stealin' and slummerin' and goin's on. I worked so hard. For more'n fifty years I waited as a nurse on sick folks. I been through the hackles if any mortal soul has, but it seems like the president thinks right kindly of me, and I want him to know Lulu Wilson thinks right kindly of him."

Wash Wilson

*Wash Wilson, 94, was born a slave of Tom Wilson, in Louisiana, near the Ouachita Road. Wash and his family were purchased by Bill Anderson, who brought them to Robertson Co., Texas. Wash lives in Eddy, Texas.*

"I was 'bout eighteen years old when de Civil war come. Us calls it de Freedom War. I was born in Louisiana, clost to de Ouachita Road, and Marse Tom Wilson owned mammy and us chillen. But Marse Bill Anderson he come from Texas to buy us from Marse Tom. Marse Tom, he 'lowed de gov'ment gwine let dem damn Yankees give de South a whuppin' and dere wasn't gwine be no slaves nowhere. But Marse Bill say we's a likely bunch of chillen and mammy am a grand cook, so guess he take de resk.

"Marse Tom starts to Texas where he had a passel of land. Us was sold on de block to him, 'cause Marse Tom say he gwine git all he done put in us out us, iffen he can 'fore de Yanks take dis country.

"Mammy was named Julia Wilson. Sis Sally was oldest of us chillen, den brudder Harry and me. Marse Bill he had 27,000 acres of land in Robertson County what he git for fightin' Indians and sech. He lived in seven mile of Calvert, Texas, and dat where he brunged us and de supplies and sech. Us traveled in ox carts and hoss back, and de mos' us niggers walked.

"Us was sot free on de road to Texas. Us camp one night and some folks come talk with Marse Bill. De next mornin' he told us, 'Boys, you's free as I is.' Us was only 'bout sixteen mile from where us gwine and Marse Bill say, 'All what want to stay with me can.' Us didn't know nobody and didn't have nothin' and us liked Marse Bill, so all us stayed with him. When we got to his place us did round and 'bout, clearin' new ground and buildin' cabins and houses. Dere was three log houses but us had to build more.

"My pappy name was Bill Wilson. All my folks am dead now, but on de plantation in Louisiana we had a good time. Mammy could cook and spin and weave. Dey raised cotton and sugar cane and corn.

"Dere wasn't many Indians when us come, in our part de country. All I ever saw jes' steal and beg. Dere was plenty wild turkeys and wild hawgs and deer and prairie chickens.

"On Marse Bill's place every quarters had its barn and mule, but Marse and he wife, Miss Deborah, lived in de quality quarters. Round dem was de blacksmith shop and smokehouse and spinnin' house and Marse Bill have a li'l house jus' for he office. De cookhouse was a two-room house side de big house with a covered passage to de dinin' room. De milk house was de back part de cook house.

"In de smokehouse was hams and sides of hawg meat and barrels of syrup and sugar and lard, and bushels of onions, and de 'tater room was allus full. Dey dug a big place and put poles and pieces of cane and lumber cross, like a top, and put dirt and leaves and banked de dirt round de 'tater room. Dey'd leave a place to crawl in, but dey kep' it tight and dem 'taters dey kep' most all winter.

"Dey was hayricks and chicken roosties and big lye hoppers where us put all de fireplace ashes. Come de rain and de water run through dat hopper into de trough under it, and dat make lye water. De women put old meat skins and bones and fat in de big, iron pot in de yard and put in some lye water and bile soap. Den dey cut it when it git cold and put it on de smokehouse shelves to dry. Dat sho' fine soap.

"Mammy worked in de kitchen mostly and spin by candlelight. Dey used a bottle lamp. Dat a rag or piece of big string, stuck in de snuff bottle full of tallow or grease. Later on in de years, dey used coal oil in de bottles. Sometimes dey wrap a rag round and round and put it in a pan of grease, and light dat for de lamp. Dey used pine torches, too.

"De black folks' quarters was log cabins, with stick and dirt chimneys. Dey had dere own garden round each cabin and some chickens, but dere wasn't no cows like in Louisiana. Dere was lots of possums in de bottoms and us go coon and possum huntin'. I likes cornbread and greens, cook with de hawg jowls or strip bacon. Dat's what I's raised on. Us had lots of lye hominy dem days. Marse Bill, he gwine feed everybody good on his place. Den us had ash cake, make of corn meal. Us didn't buy much till long time after de War.

"Us had poles stuck in de corner and tied de third pole cross, to make de bed. Dey called 'Georgia Hosses'. Us filled ticks with corn shucks or crab grass and moss. Dey wasn't no cotton beds for de niggers, 'cause dey wasn't no gins for de long time and de cotton pick from de seed by hand and dat slow work. De white folks had cotton beds and feather beds and wool beds.

"Marse Bill allus had de doctor for us iffen de old woman couldn't git us well. All de seven families Marse Bill done buy in Louisiana stayed round him and he family till dey all dead, white and cullud. I's de onlies' one left.

"Us piled 'bout a hundred or two or maybe three hundred bushels corn outside de shed. Us have corn shuckin' at night and have de big time. De fellow what owned de corn, he give a big supper and have all de whiskey us want. Nobody got drunk, 'cause most everybody carry dey liquor purty well. After shuckin' us have ring plays. For music dey scratch on de skillet lids or beat bones or pick de banjo. Dere be thirty to fifty folks, all cullud, and sometimes dey stay all night, and build de big fire and dance outdoors or in de barn.

"Dere wasn't no music instruments. Us take pieces a sheep's rib or cow's jaw or a piece iron, with a old kettle, or a hollow gourd and some horsehairs to make de drum. Sometimes dey'd git a piece of tree trunk and hollow it out and stretch a goat's or sheep's skin over it for de drum. Dey'd be one to four foot high and a foot up to six foot 'cross. In gen'ral two niggers play with de fingers or sticks on dis drum. Never seed so many in Texas, but dey made some. Dey'd take de buffalo horn and scrape it out to make de flute. Dat sho' be heared a long ways off. Den dey'd take a mule's jawbone and rattle de stick 'cross its teeth. Dey'd take a barrel and stretch a ox's hide 'cross one end and a man sot 'stride de barrel and beat on dat hide with he hands, and he feet, and iffen he git to feelin' de music in he bones, he'd beat on dat barrel with he head. 'Nother man beat one wooden side with sticks. Us 'longed to de church, all right, but dancin' ain't sinful iffen de foots ain't crossed. Us danced at de arbor meetin's but us sho' didn't have us foots crossed!

"When de niggers go round singin' 'Steal Away to Jesus,' dat mean dere gwine be a 'ligious meetin' dat night. Dat de sig'fication of a meetin'. De masters 'fore and after freedom didn't like dem 'ligious meetin's, so us natcherly slips off at night, down in de bottoms or somewheres. Sometimes us sing and pray all night.

"I voted till I's 'bout forty five year old, den I jes' kinder got out de habit.

"I got married in a suit of doeskin jeans, ain't none like dem nowadays. I married Cornelia Horde and she wore a purty blue gingham de white folks buyed and made for her. Us had six chillen, Calvin and Early and Mary and Fred and Frank.

"Iffen you knows someone workin' a conjure trick 'gainst you, jes' take some powdered brick and scrub the steps real good. Dat'll kill any conjure spell, sho'. De bes' watchdog you can get for de hoodoo is a frizzly chicken. Iffen you got one dem on de place, you can rest in peace, 'cause it scratches up every trick lay down 'gainst its owner. Iffen you see dat frizzly chicken scratchin' round de place, it a sho' sign you been conjured. A frizzly chicken come out he shell backwards, and day why he de devil's own.

"De old folks allus told me to make a cross inside my shoe every mornin' 'fore leavin' de house, den ain't no conjurer gwine git he conjure 'gainst you foots. Iffen you wear you under clothes wrong side out, you can't be conjured. 'nother way am to put saltpetre in de soles you shoes. Iffen you wears a li'l piece de 'peace plant' in you pocket or you shoe, dat powerful strong 'gainst conjure. A piece of de Betsy bug's heart with some silver money am good. But iffen you can't git none dose, jes' take a piece newspaper and cut it de size of you shoe sole and sprinkle nine grains red pepper on it. Dere ain't no hoodoo gwine ever harm you den, 'cause he'd have to stop and count every letter on dat newspaper and by dat time, you gwine be 'way from dere.

"Iffen you want to find de conjure tricks what done been sot for you, jes' kill you a fat chicken and sprinkle some its blood in da conjure doctor's left palm. Den take you forefinger and hit dat blood till it spatter, and it gwine spatter in da direction where dat trick am hid. Den when you find de trick, sprinkle a li'l quicksilver over a piece of paper and put da paper on de fire, and dat trick gwine be laid forever.

"Old folks done told me how to make a conjurer leave town. Make up a hick'ry fire and let it burn down to coals. Den you take up two live coals. One dese gwine be you, and de other gwine be de luck. Take up one dead coal, and dat you enemy. Den you jes' keep 'wake till de rooster crow or midnight. Dat am de end of de day. Now you chunk de live coal what am you to de south, de warm country; den throw de other live coal to de east; den chunk de dead coal, you enemy, to de north, de cold country. Nothin' of de conjurer can't git over fire, and 'fore de week out, dat conjurer be leavin'.

"A old Indian who used to hang round Marse Bill's place say to git de best of a conjurer, git some clay from da mouth a crawfish hole, and some dirt from a red ant's hole. Mix dem and wet dem with whiskey or camphor. Git some angleworms and boil dem and add de worm water to de clay and dirt. Iffen you rubs de conjured pusson with dis, he trouble done go 'way."

Willis Winn

*Willis Winn claims to be 116 years old. He was born in Louisiana, a slave of Bob Winn, who Willis says taught him from his youth that his birthday was March 10, 1822. When he was freed Willis and his father moved to Hope, Arkansas, where they lived sixteen years. Willis then moved to Texarkana and from there to Marshall, where he has lived fourteen years. Willis lives alone in a one-room log house in the rear of the Howard Vestal home on the Powder Mill Road, north of Marshall, and is supported by an $11.00 per month old age pension.*

"The onliest statement I can make 'bout my age is my old master, Bob Winn, allus told me if anyone ask me how old I is to say I's borned on March the tenth, in 1822. I's knowed my birthday since I's a shirt-tail boy, but can't figure in my head.

"My pappy was Daniel Winn and he come from Alabama, and I 'member him allus sayin' he'd like to go back there and get some chestnuts. Mammy was named Patsy and they was nine of us chillen. The five boys was me and Willie and Hosea and two Georges, and the gals was Car'lina and Dora and Anna and Ada, and all us lived to be growed and have chillen.

"Massa Bob's house faced the quarters where he could hear us holler when he blowed the big horn for us to git up. All the houses was made of logs and we slept on shuck and grass mattresses what was allus full of chinches. I still sleep on a grass mattress, 'cause I can't rest on cotton and feather beds.

"We et yellow bread and greens and black-eyed peas and potlicker and sopped 'lasses. Us and the white folks all cooked in fireplaces. A big iron pot hung out in the yard for to bile greens and hog jowl and sich like. We didn't know nothing 'bout bakin' powder and made our soda from burnt cobs. That's jes' as good soda as this Arm and Hammer you get in the store. We et flour bread Sundays, but you daren't git cotch with flour dough 'cept on that day. Mammy stole lots of it, though. She rolled it up and put it round her head and covered it with her head-rag. Wild game was all over the country, buffalo and bears and panthers and deer and possum and coon. The squirrels 'most run over you in the woods. We et at a long, wooden trough and it was allus clean and full of plenty grub. We used buffalo and fish bones for spoons, and some et with they hands. The grub I liked best was whatever I could git.

Us slaves didn't wear nothing but white lowell cloth. They give us pants for Sunday what had a black stripe down the leg. The chillen wore wool clothes in winter, but the big folks wore the same outfit the year round. They didn't care if you froze.

"I can show you right where I was when the stars fell. Some say they covered the ground like snow, but nary one ever hit the ground. They fell in 'bout twelve feet of the ground. The chillen jumped up and tried to cotch them. I don't 'member how long they fell, but they was shootin' through the air like sky-rockets fer quite a spell.

"Missy Callie had one gal and two boys and Massa Bob had three overseers. He didn't have nigger drivers, but had his pets. We called them pimps, 'cause they was allus tattlin' when we done anything. His place was jes' as far as you could let your eyes see, 'bout 1,800 or 1,900 acres, and he owned more'n 500 niggers.

"I still got the bugle he woke us with at four in the mornin'. When the bugle blowed you'd better go to hollerin', so the overseer could hear you. If he had to call you, it was too bad. The first thing in the mornin' we'd go to the lot and feed, then to the woodpile till breakfast. They put our grub in the trough and give us so long to eat. Massa hollered if we was slow eatin'. 'Swallow that grub now and chaw it tonight. Better be in that field by daybreak.' We worked from see to can't.

"I's seed many a nigger whipped on a 'buck and gag' bench. They buckled 'em down hard and fast on a long bench, gagged they mouth with cotton and when massa got through layin' on that cowhide, the blood was runnin' off on the ground. Next mornin' after he whip you, he'd come to the quarters when you git up and say, 'Boy, how is you feelin'? No matter how sore you is, you'd better jump and kick you heels and show how lively you is.' Massa hated me to he dying day, 'cause I told missy 'bout him whippin' a gal scandously in the field, 'cause she want to go to the house to her sick baby. Missy Callie didn't whip us, but she'd twist our nose and ears nearly off. Them fingers felt like a pair of pinchers. She stropped on her guns and rode a big bay horse to the field.

"Massa had a gin and I hauled cotton to Port Caddo, on Caddo Lake. I druv eight mules and hauled eight bales of cotton. Massa followed me with two mules and two bales of cotton. I usually had a good start of him. The patterrollers has cotched me and unhitched my mules and druv 'em off, leavin' me in the middle of the road. They'd start back home, but when they overtook massa they stopped, 'cause he druv the lead mules. He fetched 'em back and say, 'Willis, what happen?' He sho' cussed them patterrollers and said he'll git even yet.

"They was sellin' slaves all the time, puttin' 'em on the block and sellin' 'em, 'cordin' to how much work they could do in a day and how strong they was. I's seed lots of 'em in chains like cows and mules. If a owner have more'n he needed, he hit the road with 'em and sold 'em off to 'joinin' farms. None of 'em ever run off. They couldn't git away. I's seed too many try it. If the patterrollers didn't cotch you, some white folks would put you up and call your massa. They had a 'greement to be on the watch fer runaway niggers. When the massa git you back home and git through with you, you'd sho' stay home.

"In slavery time the niggers wasn't 'lowed to look at a book. I larned to read and write after surrender in the jail at Hot Springs, in Arkansas.

"They give us cake at Christmas and eggnog and 'silly-bug'. Eggnog is made from whites of eggs and 'silly-bug' from yallers. You have to churn the whiskey and yallers to make 'silly-bug'.

"Corn shuckin's was the things them days. I liked to see 'em come. They cooked up guineas and ducks and chickens and sometimes roast a pig. Massa kept twenty, thirty barrels whiskey round over the place all the time, with tin cups hangin' on the barrels. You could drink when you want to, but sho' better not git drunk. Massa have to watch he corners when cornshuckin' am over, or us niggers grab him and walk him round in the air on their hands.

"When some of the white folks died every nigger on the place had to go to the grave and walk round and drap in some dirt on him. They buried the niggers anyway. Dig a ditch and cover 'em up. I can show you right now down in Louisiana where I was raised, forty acres with nothin' but niggers buried on 'em.

"I 'member lots 'bout the war but can't tell you all, 'cause every war have its secrets. That war had four salutes, and you'd better give the right one when you meet the captain. I's heared the niggers sing, 'Gonna hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree.' My pappy fought in the last battle, at Mansfield, and so did Massa Bob.

"When the 'Federates come in sight of Mansfield they was carryin' a red flag, and kept it raised till surrender. When the Yanks come in sight they raised a white flag and wanted the 'Federates to surrender, but they wouldn't answer. It wasn't long till the whole world round there smelt like powder. Guns nowadays jus' goes 'pop-pop', but them guns sounded like thunder.

"After surrender, massa freed the men and missy freed the women, but he didn't let us loose when he ought. They wasn't no places 'vided with niggers as I heared 'bout. Niggers in Louisiana say Queen Elizabeth sent a boatload of gold to America to give the free men, but we never seed any of it. Massa give us each a barrel meal, a barrel flour, a side of meat and ten gallons 'lasses and tell us we can work for who we pleases. Daddy bought two cows and a horse and eight hawgs and a goat from massa on credit and we moved and made three crops.

"The Yanks stayed round Louisiana a long time after surrender. They come to white folks houses what hadn't freed they slaves and busted they meal and flour barrels and burn they meat and say, 'If we have to face you 'gain, we'll sweep you from the cradle up.'

"I's been cotched by them Ku Kluxers. They didn't hurt me, but have lots of fun makin' me cut capers. They pulls my clothes off once and make me run 'bout four hunerd yards and stand on my head in the middle the road.

"They is plenty niggers in Louisiana that is still slaves. A spell back I made a trip to where I was raised, to see my old missy 'fore she died, and there was niggers in twelve or fourteen miles of that place that they didn't know they is free. They is plenty niggers round here what is same as slaves, and has worked for white folks twenty and twenty-five years and ain't drawed a five cent piece, jus' old clothes and somethin' to eat. That's the way we was in slavery.

"Bout four years after surrender pappy say he heared folks say gold was covering the ground at Hope, Arkansas, so we pulled up and moved there. We found lots of money where they'd been a big camp, but no gold. We lived there sixteen years, then I came to Texarkana and worked twelve years for G.W. George Fawcett's sawmill. I never married till I was old, in Little Washington, Arkansas, and lived with my wife thirty-six years 'fore she died. We raised eighteen chillen to be growed and nary one of 'em was ever arrested.

"I was allus wild and played for dances, but my wife was 'ligious and after I married I quieted down. When I jined the church, I burned my fiddle up. I allus made a livin' from public road work since I left Texarkana, till I got no count for work. The only time I voted was in Hope, and I voted the 'publican ticket and all my folks got mad.

"If it wasn't for the good white folks, I'd starved to death. 'Fore I come here to the Vestals, I was livin' in a shack on the T. & P. tracks and I couldn't pay no rent. I was sick and the woman made me git out. Master Vestal found me down by the tracks, eatin' red clay. I'd lived for three days on six tomatoes. I et two a day. Master Vestal went home and his wife cooked a big pot of stew, with meat and potatoes, and fetched it to me. Then they built a house down behind their back yard and I's lived with 'em ever since.

"I allus say the cullud race started off wrong when they was freed and is still wrong today. They had a shot to be well off, but they can't keep money. You give one a bank of money and he'll be busted tomorrow. I tells young niggers every day they ought to come down where they'll have some sense. I serves the Lord at home and don't meddle with 'em."

Rube Witt

*Rube Witt, 87, was a slave of Jess Witt of Harrison County, Texas. He enlisted in the Confederate Army at Alexandria, La., and was sent to Mansfield, but his regiment arrived after the victory of the North. He worked for his master for a year after the war, then moved to Marshall and worked for Edmund Key, Sr., pioneer banker and civic leader. Rube cooked for eighteen years at the old Capitol Hotel in Marshall, and took up preaching as a side line. He and his wife live at 707 E. Crockett St., in Marshall. They receive a $15.00 pension.*

"I was born on the Jess Witt place, right here in Harrison County, on the tenth day of August, in 1850, and allus lived in and round Marshall. My father and mother, Daniel and Jane, was bred and born in Texas, and belonged to the Witts. I had five brothers, named Charlie and Joe and George and Bill and Jim, and six sisters, named Mary and Susan and Betsy and Anna and Effie and Lucinda. They all lived to be growed but I'm the onliest chile still livin'.

"Master Witt had a big place, I don't recall how many acres. He didn't have so many slaves. Slavery was a tight fight. We lived in li'l cabins and slept on rough plank beds and et bacon and peas and pa'ched corn. We didn't hardly know what flour bread was. Master give us one outfit of clothes to a time and sometimes shoes. We worked all day in the fields, come in and fed the stock and did the chores and et what li'l grub it took to do us and went to bed. You'd better not go nowhere without a pass, 'cause them patterrollers was rolling round every bush.

"My missus was named Kate and had two chillen. The Witts had a good set of niggers and didn't have to whip much. Sometimes he give us a light brushin' for piddlin' round at work. I seed plenty niggers whipped on ole man Ruff Perry and Pratt Hughes places, though. They was death on 'em. Lawyer Marshall used to whip his niggers goin' and comin' every day that come round.