Part 8

"Co'se, sometime some of de slaves die on de plantation. I know dey have home-mek coffin, but I ain't neber see 'em mekin' one. Sometime' when de corpse a-layin' dere dead dey have a wake."

"Dem what wanted 'em had a li'l patch of groun' where dey plant garden truck and veg'tables for deyself. Dey have half a day off on Sunday, and den co'se, dey have Sunday. All de slaves have big holiday on Crismus."

"Dey lib in log houses. Moss and du't (dirt) was pack' all in 'tween de logs and boards was nail' on over dat. Ol' marster he have a awful large house buil' outer plank. It had a gallery to de front and back."

"Dey had a li'l house down de way dey had preachin' in. De white preacher he do de preachin'. Seem to me dat soon play out."

"Dey had a ol' lady what ten' to de chillun when dey in de fiel' pickin' cotton. Sometime she uster sing:

'My Lord say dey's room enough, Room enough in hebben fer us all.'

fotch (fetch) 'em a whack on de head and say:

'Come 'long wid dat row."

"Atter freedom come de darkies uster have a song what go like dis:

'Come along Come along Make no delayin' Soon be so Uncle Sam give us all a farm.

'Come from de way Come from de nation 'Twon't be long 'till Uncle Sam give us all a farm.'

Atter while de Klu Kluxers git atter de cullud folks. Den dey mek a song:

'Run nigger run de Klu Klux git you.'

Lots of time dey come on Sunday. One place dere was a big plum thicket 'long de road and dey dodge in dere and ketch people. Lots of cullud folks hafter pass by dere to git where dey gwine. In de day time dem Klu Kluxes was jis' in dey common clo's but when dey come in de nights dey did figger deyself wid dem high p'int hats and white t'ings wrap 'roun' 'em."

"I b'longs to de Baptis' Chu'ch. I reckon dat was de Baptis' chu'ch back in dem days, but I don' 'member no baptisms back in slavery. I 'members though that dey was a blin' cullud man what uster preach."

"I 'members dey was lots of smallpox one time. Dat was atter freedom come, 'bout 50 year' ago. De people was sho' scare' of it, wusser'n if it was a Winchester. When I fus' 'member 'bout dat smallpox dey was a man had it and dey run him 'bout a mont' and bu'n him. If dey find out you got de smallpox you jis' long gone, you better not go out nor in. Dey put de food on de gate-pos'. If you don' git better in so many days dey bu'n you and de house and eb'ryt'ing up."

"I uster farm 'till de boll weevil start in dis part of de country. Atter dat sawmillin' and public works. Jis' go from one sawmill to anudder. But I spen' my bes' days on de farm."

"When I was cut off dem sawmill and public works jobs I was done wo' out. Dey orter stop' me fifteen years befo' dey did, 'cause den I mightenter (might not have) been wo' out. Now I can't do nuffin'."

"I los' one of my eye 'bout seben year' ago. I have de fever and it settle in my eye and jis' cook. Dat was when I had meningitis."

"I can't plow no mo'. I jis' live on my li'l bit of pension and dat ain't nuttin'."

Reeves Tucker

*Reeves Tucker, 98 year old Negro farmer of Harrison Co., Texas, was born in Bibb Co., Alabama, a slave of George Washington Tucker, Sr. When Reeves was six his master died and Reeves was separated from his family and brought to Texas by George Tucker, Jr. Reeves now lives with his son, who owns a farm nine miles northwest of Marshall, Texas.*

"My father was Armistead Tucker and my mother Winnie Tucker and they's both born slaves of Massa George Washington Tucker. He lived over in old Alabama, between Selma and Maplesville. My brothers was Andy and John and Peter and there was two girls, Anne and Dorcus, and we was all born on Massa Tucker's plantation. My missy died 'fore I was born and my old massa died when I was jest a shirt-tail boy and his chillen had a dividement of his lands and mammy and all the chillen but me fell to the daughter and pappy was give to the son. Pappy begs too hard for me to go with him that fin'ly they lets me. I never seed my mammy after that, bein' as how Missy Emogene stays in Alabama and us come to Texas.

"Massa George settles near Gilmer and he sho' have a big place with lots of acres and a good house. He didn't 'low no beatin' on that place but I've saw slaves on other places whopped till the blood run off them onto the groun'. When they was cut loose from the tree or whippin' post they falls over like dead. But our massa was good to us and give us lots to eat and wear. We et pork meat and white flour jest like the white folks and every woman have to spin so many yards cloth 'fore she go to bed, so we allus had the clothes.

"I've saw lots of slaves bid off like stock and babies sold from their mammy's breast. Some brung 'bout $1,500, owing to how strong they is. Spec'lators used to ride all over the country near our place and buy up niggers and I've saw as many as fifty in a gang, like convicts.

"But Massa George wouldn't sell and buy slaves and none of 'em ever run off 'cept my pappy and one night he started to go 'cross a shirt of woods to the neighbors and young massa was a pattyroller and tells pappy to wait and go with him, but pappy hard headed as a mule and goes hisself and the pattyrollers cotches him and nigh beats him to death. Young massa was sho' mad as fire, 'cause he didn't want his niggers beat up.

"Them circuit ridin' preachers come to the white church and tries to make the white folks bring their slaves to preaching. Preacher say, 'Nigger have a soul to save same as us all.' Massa allus went to church but I don't 'lieve it done him any good, 'cause while he there at meetin' the niggers in the field stacking that fodder. He did give us Christmas Day and a big dinner and 'cept for workin' the lights outten us, gen'rally treated us decent and we had heap easier time than any other slaves 'round.

"I 'member the war and Jeff Davis and Abe Lincoln was warfaring 'bout freein' the niggers 'bout four year 'fore they fought. Massa Tucker jest grunted when we was freed, 'cause he knowed the thing was up, and he tells us if we'd stay and help the crop out he'd give us a horse and saddle, but we didn't git nothin'. So I lef' him soon as the crop laid by the year of freedom and then moved with pappy to a farm near Hallsville and stays with him till I marries. I had seven chillen to be growed and married and I farmed near Hallsville mos' my life, till I too old. My son, Reeves after me, owns this farm and we's all right. Never did have hard times after freedom, like some niggers, 'cause we just sot down on the land."

Lou Turner

*Lou Turner, 89, was born at Rosedale, near Beaumont, Texas, on the Richard West plantation. She has spent her entire life within three miles of Beaumont, and now lives in her own little home, with her daughter, Sarah.*

"I hears you been 'round to see me befo', but you ain't never gwine find me to home. I sho' love to go 'round visitin'. You know dey say iffen you treats the cat too good, you ain't never know where the cat is.

"I's gwine on seventeen year old when freedom come. I's born right here near Beaumont, on the big road what they calls the Concord Road, in the place what they calls Rosedale. I's a growed-up young lady befo' I ever sees Beaumont. I's gwine on 89 year old now.

"Richard West, he's my massa and Mary Guidry she my missy. Dey used to call her the 'Cattle King.' Dey have a big plantation and jes' a few slaves. Dey raises my mammy since she eleven year old. Her name Maria and she marry Sam Marble. He come from Miss'ippi.

"I stay up at the big house and missy fix my plate when she fix hers. God bless her heart, she kind to me, I know now I's sassy to her but she didn't pay me no 'tention 'cause I's li'l. I slep' on a trundle bed by missy's side and I git so smart I allus smell my bed to see iffen dey puts nice, clean sheets on mine like dey did on hers. Sometime I play sick, but old missy a good doctor and she gimme beefoot oil and it so nasty I quit playing off. She French and she so good doctor they send for her to other folks houses.

"Old missy was real rich. I's taken her money out of de wardrobe ane make tall playhouse out of gold and silver money. Iffen she have to buy somethin' she have to come and borrow it from me. Us allus has to figger how to take dat money out of de corners so de house won't fall down. I cried and cried iffen she tored it up.

"She'd take me with her when she go to see her grandchillen in de French settlement. Us come in buggy or hack and bring jelly and money and things. I thought I's gwine to Heaven, 'cause I gits to play with li'l chillen. Us play 'ring place', dat's draw a ring and hop 'round in it. Us jump rope and swing. Dey have a hair rope swing with a smooth board in it so it ain't scratch us behin'.

"Old missy so kind but what got 'way with me, I couldn't go to school. I beg and beg, but she kep' sayin', 'Some day, some day,' and I ain't never sit in a school in my life.

"Old massa didn't work 'em hard. He make 'en come in when the sun got bad, 'cause he feared dey git sunstroke. He mighty good in early days, but when he figger dey gwine loose he slaves he start bein' mean. He split 'em and sold 'em, tryin' to make he money out of 'em.

"De house what the white folks live in was make out of logs and moss and so was the quarters houses. Better'n New Orleans, dem quarters was. Us slaves have de garden patch. The white folks raises hogs and kilt 'em by the twenties. Dey smoke hams and shoulders and chittlin's and sich and hang 'em up in the smokehouse. Us allus have plenty to eat and us have good, strong clothes. Missy buy my dresses separate, though. She buy me pretty stripe cotton dress.

"Bout the only work I ever done was help watch the geese and turkeys and fill the quilts. I larn to card, too. Old missy never whip me much, she jes' like to scare me. She whip me with big, tall straw she git out the field or wet a towel and whip my legs. My old massa done a trick I never forgit while I's warm. I's big gal 'bout sixteen year old and us all 'lone on the place. He tells me to crawl under the corncrib and git the eggs. I knowed dey ain't nothin' dere but the nest egg, but I have to go. When I can't find nothin' he pull me out backwards by the feet and whip me. When old missy come home I ain't know no better'n to tell her and she say she ought to kill him, but she sho' fix him, anyway. He say she spile me and dat why he whip me.

"Old missy taken to preachin'. She was real good preacher. Dey have de big hall down the center of the house where they have services. A circuit rider come once a month and everybody stop workin' even if it wasn't Sunday.

"When war was on us there wasn't no sojers 'round where I was, but dat battle on Atchafalia shook all the dishes off the dresser and broke 'em up. Jes' broke up all the fine Sunday and company dishes.

"After de trouble my mammy have gettin' me 'way from there when freedom come, she gits me after all. Old missy have seven li'l nigger chillen what belong to her slaves, but dey mammies and daddys come git 'em. I didn't own my own mammy. I own my old missy and call her 'mama'. Us cry and cry when us have to go with us mammy. I 'members how old missy rock me in her arms and sing to me. She sing dat 'O, Susanna' and telt me a story:

"'Dere a big, old brown bear what live in de woods and she have lots of li'l cub bears and dey still nussin' at de breast. Old mama bear she out huntin' one day and she come by de field where lots of darkies workin' and dere on a pallet she see fat, li'l pickaninny baby. Mama bear she up and stole dat li'l pickaninny baby and takes it home. It hongry but after she git all de cub bears fed, dere ain't no milk left for de nigger baby. Mama bear git so 'sasperated she say to her babies, 'Go long, you go way and play.' Dan she feed de li'l pickaninny baby and dat how she raise dat nigger baby.'

"Now, every time old missy come to dat place in de story, she start laughin', 'cause I allus used to ask her.

"'How come dey didn't no hair grow on dat baby.'"

Irella Battle Walker

*Irella Battle Walker, 86, was born a slave at Craft's Prairie, Texas. Her parents, Mesheck and Becky Battle, belonged to Mr. Battle, but were sold while Irella was a baby to Tom Washington, of Travis County. Irella learned her A B C's from an o1d slave, Jack James, although it was against the rules. This was the only schooling she ever had. Irella receives a monthly old age pension of eight dollars. She lives at 2902 Cole St., Austin, Texas.*

"My name was Irella Battle and I was borned on August 15th, in 1851, down at Craft's Prairie, in Bastrop County. I was 86 years old last August, and I'm blind in one eye.

"Mammy's name was Becky Battle and she was a field worker, and dat about de most work she have to do, 'cept on rainy days. She had five girls and one boy and I'm de youngest and de only livin' one now. Daddy was Mesheck Battle and when I'm a baby in mammy's arms, us sold to Massa Washington.

"Daddy had to do field work. I never knowed him do nothin' but farm. He sho' make us behave and whop us if we didn't. Massa was purty good. De massas dem times, some was good and some was bad, and about de most of dem was bad. I had to he'p round de big house and dey purty good to me. But when I still little I went to de fields. Dey give me a sack what de slaves make to pick cotton in. Dey spin de thread and make cloth on de loom and stitch it and make cotton sacks. Dey short for us chillen and de older folks had a short one to pick in and a big sack to empty in. I could pick about a hundred fifty pounds a day when I's twelve. Israel Roberts could pick five hundred a day. Us never got no money for pickin', only food and clothes and a place to stay at night. Old man Jonas watched us chillen and kept us divin' for dat cotton all de day long. Us wish him dead many a time.

"De plantation had a hoss-power gin and some days our rows of cotton tooked us right to de gin house and we'd look up and watch de slave boys settin' on de lever and drivin' dem hosses round and round.

"De cabins was log and mud and stick chimney. When one dem chimneys catch fire us git on top and throw water on it.

"In summer us go barefoot, but dere shoemakers what make shoes for winter. When a beef killed, de hide kept and cleaned and put in de tannin' trough. When de leather ready, de shoes make in de little shoe shop, and when dem shoes git dry dey hard as a rock. Daddy make us rub tallow or fried grease meat or any other kind grease into dat hard shoe leather, and it make dem soft, but when de dew and sun git on dem again dey's hard again. Times de coyotes steal dem greased shoes and make off with dem. Dat act'ly happen a lot of times.

"Old man Jack James work at day and have night school at night. He have long boards for benches and let dem down by ropes from de rafters, and have blue back spellers. He point to de letters with de long broom straw and dat's how we larn our A B C's. I can read purty good, when my eyes let me, but I can't write nothin'.

"If it rained we had to shuck and shell corn or pull weeds in de yard, and it was a big one, too. De women spin thread for de looms, two of dem and a spinnin' wheel in every cabin.

"Us have beds de men make and take wore out clothes and breeches and piece dem and stuff with cotton for quilts. When it cold us keep fire all night long. De plates am tin and a big gourd dipper to drink water with. De men make dere own cedar water pails.

"De week's rations for a growed person run like three pounds bacon and a peck cornmeal and some home-made 'lasses. No flour and no coffee, but us parch bran or wheat and make coffee. Each night dey give a pint of sweet milk. But de chillen all et in a special place in de kitchen.

"One mornin' Massa Washington call us all and he read from de big paper. He say, 'You is free to live and free to die and free to go to de devil, if you wants to.' He tell us if we gather he crops he'd pay us for it. Den he turned and walked away and started cryin'. All de families stays but one man. De highest price massa pay anybody was about $15.00, but dat seem like a lot of money to folks what wasn't used to gittin' any money at all.

"Finally my folks moved on a farm on Onion Creek, in Travis County, on rented land from Nat Watters and Dr. Shears, and farm on de third and fourth. We stays about six years and raises cotton and corn.

"But when I's twenty years old I marries Joe Walker and us move to Bastrop County, add I stays dere till he dies in 1932. Us have eleven chillen and nine of dem still livin'. I gits a pension, nine dollars de month, and it sho' am a help now I's old and nearly blind."

John Walton

*John Walton, 87, was born August 15, 1849, a slave of Bill Walton, who lived in Austin, Texas, until the Civil War. He then purchased a farm in Robertson County, Texas. John and his wife, Missouri, own a little home at 1008 Juniper St., Austin. Each receives an old age pension of $10.00 a month.*

"My name am John Walton, yes, suh, and I's born right here in Austin. Dat on de 15th day of August, in 1849. I done had de papers on dat but where dey is now I don't know. Pappy's named Gordon Walton and I 'member he die while de war goin' on, or jes' befo'. I disremember. My mammy was a small woman, named Mary.

"Massa Bill Walton owns all us, and he de brother of Buck Walton, and us live in Austin till it said de Yankees comin'. Some southern folks here in Austin was diggin' ground for a fort, old Fort MacGruder, jes' south of Austin. So Massa Bill takes us all 'way from Austin and up to Robertson County, 'cause he done figured de Yankees can't git up dere.

"I done field work up dere and even us kids had to pick 150 pounds cotton a day, or git de whoppin'. Us puts de cotton in de white-oak baskets and some dem hold more'n 100 pounds. It 'cordin' to de way you stamps you cotton in. De wagon with de yoke of oxen standin' in de field for to pour de cotton in and when it full, de oxen pulls dat wagon to de hoss-power gin. Us gin'rally use 'bout 1,600 pounds cotton to make de bale.

"Purty soon after Massa Walton opens he farm he die and Missus Walton den marries a Dr. Richardson and he git de overseer what purty rough on us. He want all us to stay right in line and chop 'long and keep up with de lead man. If us didn't it am de bullwhip. He ride up and down and hit us over de back if us don't do de job right. Sometimes he'd git off he hoss and have two slaves hold one down and give him de bullwhip. He'd give it to him, too.

"I helped break up de land and plant and chop cotton and a little of everything. Jes' what had to be done at de time, I goes out and does it. I run 'cross plenty snakes and one day one bit me right top de foot. Dere plenty varmints, too.

"In de fall of de year us kill plenty hawgs and put up de gamblin' racks and hang dat meat up for de night. Dere some big dogs what watched de meat and one old dog, old Jefferson, was bigger'n any dog I ever seed. He kilt many 'nother dog. One night a big panther try steal de hawg meat and old Jeff cotch him and helt him till de men comes. De panther tore Jeff up purty bad. Us heered dem panthers scream at night, and if you didn't know, you'd think it a woman. I could tell de diff'rence, 'cause de panther scream have de little growl at de end. If he half mile 'way, you'd hear dat little whang.

"One night I goes out in de bottom with my dog. I was huntin' but I don't like what I finds. A big panther follows me and old Nig, dat my big, black bulldog, scart him 'way from me. I sho' run dat night, and I never slip 'way no more at night.

"Massa's big house sot 'way from our cabins. Us have de big room where de slaves' meals all cook and de fireplace 'bout four foot 'cross and plenty ashes in de mornin' to make de ashcakes. For breakfast us have meat and ashcakes and bran-coffee or sassafras tea. You could keep dem dried sassafras roots de year 'round and dey jes' as strong. Us plowed 'em up in de field, 'cause dey growed wild.

"Us didn't have time for de playin' of games durin' de week, 'cause it dark when us goes out and it dark when us comes back. Us sho' was tired. At night dat overseer walk by our cabins and call out to us, to see if us all inside. If us don't answer he come up and find out why, and he'd find us, too.

"I larned to read and write a little jes' since freedom. Us used Webster's old blue-back spellers and I has one in de house to dis day and I wouldn't take nothing for it.

"The first year after freedom I farms with mammy and my stepdaddy. Pappy done die. Us done purty good de first year and I keeps on farmin' most my life. I marries Georgia Anne Harper in 1875 or 1876 in Limestone County. Us have four chillen and three is livin'. I marries 'gain in 1882 to Missouri Fisher and us have eight chillen and six is livin'.

"Us gits 'long on what de state give us now, and it ain't so bad. Times is diff'rent. I never done much but farm, so I don't know so much 'bout everything what goes on."

Sol Walton

*Sol Walton, 88, was born in Mobile, Alabama, a slave of Sam Lampkin. Sol and his father stayed on the Lampkin Plantation, then in Mooringsport, Louisiana, until 1873, and farmed on shares. From 1876 to 1922 Sol worked in the T.& P. shops, in Marshall, Texas. Sol and his wife are supported by odd jobs Sol secures about town and they receive money from a son who is in a CCC camp.*

"I was knockin' round, a good-sized chap, way back yonder in Buchanan's and Henry Clay's time. I was born in 1849, in Mobile, Alabama, and belonged to Sam Lampkin. My father was bought by the Lampkins and he allus kept the name of his first master, Walton. My mammy was a Alabama Negro and her name was Martha, and I had four brothers and four sisters, Robert, Jim, Richard, Alex, Anna, Dora, Isabella, Bettie.

"My master was Sam Lampkin and his wife was Missus Mary, and their first plantation was in Alabama, but they moved to Mississippi when I was 'bout six, and we lived on Salt Water Creek. They had a big, frame house and we lived in log quarters, slept on rough rail beds and had plenty to eat, peas, pumpkins, rice and other truck we raised on the place, and plenty of fish out of the creek.

"The first work I done in slavery was totin' water and dinner to the field hands, in gourd buckets. We didn't have tin buckets then. The hands worked from sun to sun, and if the overseer seed 'em slackin' up he cussed 'em and sometimes whacked 'em with a bullwhip. I seed 'em whipped till their shirt stuck to their back. I seed my mammy whipped for shoutin' at white folks meetin'. Old massa stripped her to the waist and whipped her with a bullwhip. Heaps of 'em was whipped jus' 'cause they could be whipped. Some owners half fed their hands and then whipped them for beggin' for grub.

"After our folks came in from the field they et supper and some went to Salt Water Creek to cotch fish and crabs. They used to spin at night, too. On Christmas Day massa allus give the slaves a little present, mostly somethin' to wear, 'cause he goin' to git that anyhow.

"Massa never had but one white overseer. He got kilt fightin'. The hands was burnin' logs and trash and the overseer knocked a old man down and made some of the niggers hold him while he bullwhipped him. The old man got up and knocked the overseer in the head with a big stick and then took a ax and cut off his hands and feet. Massa said he didn't ever want another white overseer and he made my cousin overlooker after that.

"The slaves had their own prayer meetin's and that's 'bout the biggest pleasure they had. We'd slip off sometimes to dances and parties, but the patterrollers come and run us home with hounds. The black and white children all played together and there was 'bout sixty of us.