with automobiles clipping by to Mayodan, a mill town of 2000, and a
thickly populated though unincorporated country side.

In 1930, Uncle Porter was struck by an automobile, and since he [HW
addition: has] poked his way about town cautiously with his cane, no
longer working as handy man to Thomas R. Pratt's family on the corner
of Academy and Market streets. His slavery home was in a two roomed
(with loft) cabin next door to the house Mr. Pratt built in 1890 when
he moved to Madison from Leaksville. This cabin Col. Gallaway in the
1890's had enlarged to house the Episcopal rector, Mr. Stickney. Uncle
Porter's slave home stands in 1937, occupied by Mr. Pratt's daughter,
Mrs. Pearl Van Noppen and sons.

Uncle Porter was ever very polite and humble, for all his contacts he
thought had always been with the highest of Dan river aristocracy. His
medium, lean body, with a head like Julius Caesar's was covered with
skin of "ginger cake color".

On the Deep Springs Dan River plantation lived Mrs. Timberlake whose
daughter married Mr. Le Seur from an adjoining plantation just across
the Dan river from Gov. Alexander Martin's Danbury plantation. She in
time married Mr. Scales, and as property of this lady, Porter was born
of legally married parents. Porter's brother, Nathan Scales, was given
by his mistress to her daughter, when she married another Le Seur, and
thus he became Nathan Le Seur. Both brothers have descendants in
Madison of a high type of citizenship. Porter, himself was given the
choice by his ole Miss of belonging to either of her two sons, John
Durham Scales or Nathaniel Pitcher Scales. Porter chose Nat Scales as
his young marse and come to Madison to live with him about 1845.

By obeying orders from his marse Nat Pitcher Scales, Porter operated a
train of fifteen wagons loaded with corn for the Confederate cavalry
from Charlotte, North Carolina to Danville, Virginia. Thus a
Confederate soldier, he in his old age received a pension.

Porter said he got lots of practice in managing feed wagons by
"Waggoning in Georgia" for his marster between the two cities, Augusta
and Wadesboro. His master, he said, traded his services to "Dan River
Jim Scales" who "bossed" the teams between Augusta and Wadesboro which
were owned by John Durham Scales and Dan River Jim Scales. These wagons
also carried corn. Nat Pitcher, Porter's master by choice, operated a
store at Wadesboro, Georgia. Uncle Porter's "waggoning in Georgia"
shows Madison's connection with the far south not only through the
Scales family but through other families.

But the great honor of a tobacco country slave was that of being sold
"down south to the cotton country."

So after the war, Porter Scales came back to the Dan river in
Rockingham county, and bought his 130 acres farm from Mr. Alex
Llewellyn. He liked to recount his matrimonial matters except those of
his second wife who married him for a rich nigger widower, and spent
his hard won dollars freely for lace curtains and such to adorn the
town house in "Pocomo" and finally forced him out of the "town" house
into the woodhouse in the yard where he lived some years, dying there.
His church friends took charge of his body and kept it until put away
by the side of his first wife.

She, Martha Foy, he said in 1932 to me, was bought by Dr. Ben Foy of
Madison from Wheeler Hancock of Wentroth. Six of their children are
living near Madison and in West Virginia, Stephen and Lindsay Scales at
the old place down at Deep Springs. He told of "going tuh see" the
attractive Betsy Ann, house girl slave of Mrs. Nancy Watkins Webster
but was "cut out" by Noah Black. Aunt Betsy Ann Black is remembered as
being the superlative obstetrical nurse in homes of the rich about
Madison, and was designated by them as being a "lady" if ever there was
a negro lady. She was never dressed except in "cotton checks". "Being
cut out" thus, Porter cited as evidence of his aristocratic
association: for one of Aunt Betsy's son became a Methodist preacher,
and two of her grandaughters teachers in the public schools of North
Carolina.

Porter told of the white school teacher, Professor Seeker who taught in
the Doll academy, Madison's old "female academy" which still stands
(remodeled since 1900 into a dwelling) on Murphy Street at the 60 foot
deep well in the street, by the old Dr. Robert Gallway house (standing
still in 1937) just south of John H. Moore's five acre homeplace.
Professor Seeker, he said left Madison and went up on Baughn's Mountain
to teach among the Baughns, Lewises and Higgies and Bibsons, pioneer
families of that area. On that May 2, 1932 in his Kemoca yard, Uncle
Porter recited the poem which little Bettie Carter forgot in stage
fright at Professor Seeker's "exhibition" before Professor Jacob Doll
ever started his "female school". All these pupils were pay "scholars".

The free school for Madison, the "old field schoolhouse" was way down
the hill from the old Dr. Smith house near Beaver Island Creek. Only
white folks intimate with itch, head lice and long standing poverty
then sent their children to the "free ole feel schoolhouse".

Porter said as a laborer he helped build a big tobacco factory at Dr.
Smith's old place. By 1880, this factory had been purchased by Madison
negroes as community and fraternal "Hall" for assemblies. It served
thus to 1925 when it was abandoned, and in 1936, it was torn down, the
last of the several large plug tobacco factories operated in Madison
1845-1875 by the Scales, Daltons and Hays.

Porter could name and designate vocationally Madison's early white
residents, and others, too, whom his Marse Nat Scales visited. His
story of some Civil War refugees led to how their slave girl, Rose,
acquired a small farm two miles east of town held to this day (1937) by
her descendants, the Ned Collins family of Madison. Rose acquired the
farm by Kindness to its owners, who willed it to her.

Forced to live in cellars in Petersburg, Virginia, (Mrs. A.R. Holderby,
William Holderby, Miss Fannie Holderby, Mrs. Aiken) because of
bombording Federal shells 1864 came to Madison afflicted with
tuberculosis. Their slave girl was Rose. The whites died except a son,
who became a Presbyterian minister. The whites were buried on a hill
just north of the pioneer Joel Cardwell home (1937 Siegfired Smiths').
Rose was married to Uncle Henry Collins, and they lived on the place of
Mrs. Louise Whitworth and Scylla Bailey. These white women willed their
tiny farm to Rose Collins because of her kindness to them in their old
age.

N.C. District:        No. 2
Worker:               T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:            1197
Subject:              WILLIAM SCOTT
Story Teller:         William Scott
Editor:               Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 11 1937]

[Illustration: William Scott]

WILLIAM SCOTT
Ex-Slave Story

401 Church St., 77 years old.

"My name is William Scott. I live at 401 Church Street, Raleigh, North
Carolina. I wuz born 1860, March 31st. I wuz free born. My father wuz
William Scott. I wuz named after my father. My mother wuz Cynthia
Scott. She wuz a Scott before she wuz married to my father. She wuz
born free. As far back as I can learn on my mother's side they were
always free.

"My mother and father always told me my grandfather wuz born of a white
woman. My grandfather wuz named Elisha Scott. I have forgot her name.
If I heard her name called I have forgot it. My grandfather on my
mother's side wuz a Waverly. I can't tell you all about dese white
folks, but some of 'em, when they died, left their property to
mulattoes, or half-breed children, and several of them are living in
this community now. I can tell you exactly where they are, and where
they got their property. Some of them are over half white. They were by
a Negro woman who wuz a mulatto and a white man. Dey air so near white
you can't tell them from white folks. This condition has existed as
long ago as I have any recollection, and it still exists, but there
are not as many children according to the relations as used to be.

"Free Negroes were not allowed to go on the plantations much. Now you
see my father wuz a free man. We lived right here in town. My father
wuz a ditcher and slave gitter. One night the man he worked for got up
a crowd and come to whup him and take his money away from him. He had
paid father off that day. Dat night dey come an' got him an'
blindfolded him. He moved the blindfold from over his eyes and run an'
got away from 'em. He never did go back o [TR: no] more to the man he
had been workin' for. I wuz a little boy, but I heard pappy tell it.
Dat wuz tereckly after de surrender. Pappy saw the man he had been
workin' for when he slipped the blindfold off his face, and he knowed
him.

"I wuz a boy when the Yankees came to Raleigh. They came in on the
Fayetteville Road. They stopped and quartered at the edge of the town.
I remember they had a guardhouse to put the Yankees in who disobeyed.
Later on they came in from the east and quartered at the old Soldiers
Home right in there, but not in the buildings. There were no houses
there when the Yankees came. They had some houses there. They built
'em. They stayed there a good while until all the Yankees left. When
the Yankees first came in they camped over near Dix Hill, when they
come into town you hardly knew where they come from. They were jist
like blue birds. They jist covered the face of the earth. They came to
our house and took our sumpin' to eat. Yes sir, they took our sumpin'
to eat from us Negroes. My daddy didn't like deir takin' our rations so
he went to de officer and tole him what his men had done, and the
officers had sumpin' to eat sent over there.

"My mammy cooked some fur de officers too. Dey had a lot of crackers.
Dey called 'em hard tack. The officers brought a lot of 'em over dere.
We lived near the Confederate trenches jist below the Fayetteville
Crossin' on Fayetteville Street. The breastworks were right near our
house.

"I know when the colored men farmed on share craps, dey were given jist
enough to live on, and when a white man worked a mule until he wuz worn
out he would sell him to de colored man. De colored man would sometime
buy 'im a old buggy; den he wuz called rich. People went to church den
on steer carts, that is colored folks, most uv 'em. De only man I
wurked for along den who wud gib me biscuit through de week wuz a man
named June Goodwin. The others would give us biscuit on Sundays, and I
made up my mind den when I got to be a man to eat jist as many biscuits
as I wanted; and I have done jist dat.

"My mammy used to hire me out to de white folks. I worked and made jist
enough to eat and hardly enough clothes to wear to church until I wuz a
man. I worked many a day and had only one herrin' and a piece of bread
for dinner. You know what a herrin' fish is? 'Twon't becase I throwed
my money away, twas cause we didn't git it, nuther to save up. When we
farmed share crap dey took all we made. In de fall we would have to
split cord wood to live through de winter.

"I will tell you now how I got my start off now, I am going to use dis
man's name. I went to work for a man name George Whitaker. I drive a
wagon for him. He 'lowed me all de waste wood for my own use. This wuz
wood dat would not sell good on de market. I hauled it over home. I
worked for him till he died, en his wife lowed me a little side crap. I
made this crap, took de money I got for it, and built a little
storehouse. I disremember how long I worked fer Mis' Hannah Whitaker.
Den I quit work for her and went to work for myself. I owns dat little
storehouse yit, de one I worked wid Mis' Hannah Whitaker, en from dat I
bought me a nudder home.

"When de Yankees come to Raleigh dere wuz a building dey called de
Governor's Palace, it stood whur de Auditorium now stands. Right back
o' where de courthouse now stands wuz a jail and a gallows an' a
whuppin' pos' all dere together. I know when dey built de Penitentiary
dey hauled poles from Johnston County. Dey called dem Johnston County
poles. Dey hauled em in on trains. Dis post office wuz not built den.
De post office den wuz built of plank set up an' down.

"I remember seeing a man hung down at de jail. His name wuz Mills. He
wuz a white man. When he got on de scaffold he said, 'What you gwine to
do to me do it quick and be done wid it'.

"I think Abraham Lincoln done the colored man a heap of good. If it
hadn't been for Mr. Roosevelt there are many livin' today who would
have parished to death. There are plenty of people walkin' about now
who would have been dead if Mr. Roosevelt had not helped them. The only
chance I had to hold my home wuz a chance given me through him. At my
age, I cannot make much at work, but through things he helped me, and I
is holding my own."

B.N.

N.C. District:  No. 2
Worker:         Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:      607
Subject:        TINEY SHAW, EX-SLAVE OF WAKE COUNTY, 76.
Story Teller:   Tiney Shaw
Editor:         Daisy Bailey Waitt

[Illustration: Tiney Shaw]

TINEY SHAW
Ex-Slave of Wake County, 76.

"My papa wuz a free nigger, case he wuz de son of de master who wuz
named Medlin. When a chile wuz borned ter a slave woman an' its pappy
wuz de boss dat nigger wuz free from birth. I know dat de family wuz
livin' on Mis' Susy Page's place durin' de war an' we wus jist lak
slaves alldo' we wuz said to be free den.

"My pappy wuz named Madison Medlin, maybe for de president, an' my
mammy wuz a pretty, slim brown-skinned gal when I could remember. Dey
said dat she wuz named fer Betsy Ross. I had four brothers, Allison,
William, Jeems and John an' five sisters named Cynthy Ann, Nancy,
Sally, Caroline an' Molly.

"We hyard a heap 'bout de war, but de white folkses didn't want us to
know 'bout it. Most of de white wimmens had ter live by dere selves
durin' de time dat de men folkses wuz away at de war, but de niggers in
our neighborhood stuck ter de missus an' dar ain't no niggers from
other plantations come dar ter insult 'em nother.

"I 'members dat it wuz in April when de Yankees come an' I hyard Mis'
Susy cryin', case she wuz a widder 'oman; an' her crops wuz jist
started ter be planted. She knowed dat she wuz ruint, I reckon.

"Me an' my mammy wuz sittin' by de fireplace when de Yankees come. I
crawled under de wash bench but de Yankee officer drug me out an' he
sez, 'Go fetch me a dozen aigs, an' I wants a dozen now, mind yo'.'

"I looked till I found twelve aigs an' I started ter de house wid 'em,
but bein' so excited I drapped one uv dem an' cracked it. I wuz sceered
stiff now sho' nuff, an' I runned inter de back do' an' crawled under
de bed. De officer seed me do' an' he cracks his whup an' makes me come
out den he sez, 'Nigger what's dat out dar in dat barrel in de
hallway?'

"I sez, 'Lasses sir', an' he sez 'draw me some in dis cup.'

"I draws 'bout a half a cupful an' he sez, 'Nigger dat ain't no
'lasses,' an' he cracks his whup ag'in.

"I den draws de cup full as it could be an' he tells me ter drunk it.

"I drinks dat whole cupful uf 'lasses 'fore he'll lemmie 'lone. Den I
runs back ter my mammy.

"Atter awhile de Yankee comes back an' sticks his haid in de do' an' he
'lows, 'ole doman, yo' 'lasses am leakin'.'

"Sho' nuff it wuz leakin' an' had run all down de hall an' out in de
yard, but he done pull de stopper out fer meanness so he could laff at
mammy when she waded through dat 'lasses. Dey laffs an' laffs while she
go steppin' down through de 'lasses lak a turkey walkin' on cockleburs.

"Dem Yankees done a lot of mischief, I knows case I wuz dar. Dey robbed
de folkses an' a whole lot of darkies what ain't never been whupped by
de master got a whuppin' from de Yankee soldiers.

"De Ku Klux Klan warn't half as bad as dem Yankee robbers what stayed
in Raleigh atter de war, robbin', plunderin', an' burnin' up
ever'thing. De south had ter have de Ku Klux Klan but dey ain't had no
need fer de Yankees.

"De first winter atter de war wuz de worse winter I ever knowed, an'
I'se tellin' yo' dat wuz bad. Maybe yo' doan think so but nigh 'bout
ever' nigger in de world cussed ole Abraham Lincoln dat winter."

B.N.

N.C. District:    No. 2
Worker:           T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:        1648
Subject:          JOHN SMITH
Story teller:     John Smith
Editor:           Office force

[HW: 300 slaves raised [TR: illegible], 2 women, some reconstruction
material]

[Illustration: John Smith]

JOHN SMITH
John Smith, a Negro in the Wake County Home, Raleigh, N.C.
Interviewed by T. Pat Matthews, May 10, 1937.

"John Smith is my name, an I wuz borned at Knightdale, right at my
marster's house. Yes sir, right in his home. I wuz born right near whar
de depot now is. My marster owned de lan', all de lan' dere. I wuz bred
an' bawn dere on my marster's plantation. I is, countin' day an' night,
216 years old, not countin' day an' night I is 108 years old.

"My marster's name wuz Haywood Smith an' he wuz one ob de bes' men I
ebber seed. He wuz good to all us niggers, he would come round an' talk
to us, he lubbed us, and we lubbed him. My marster, Haywood Smith,
nebber married but he had a nigger 'oman. She also had a nigger
husband. She had two chillun by Marster Haywood Smith, a gal and a boy.
Peter Knight owned my marster's lan' at Knightdale atter my marster
died. He died de year de war commence.

"Den de gardeen, de gardeen dat wuz appointed for all us slaves, and
his name wuz Bat Moore, he carried us slaves to Marster Haywood Smith's
brother's chillun in Alabama. He wuz de gardeen. I got dere de month de
war commence. Bat Moore carried me to Alabama. Marster Elam Smith's
chillun wuz named Frank an' John Elam. Dem boy's mother wuz name' Miss
Mary, dere fadder wuz daid. Miss Mary married agin. Her first husband
was Elam. Miss Mary moved off, but I staid wid de boys.

"My mother's name wuz Rose Smith, my father's name wuz Powell. He died
at Wilmington, N.C. when dey wuz diggin' de trenches roun' de fort dere
durin' da war. My mother died in Greene Co. Alabama, at a place called
Smithfield. My father belonged to Mack Powell. I made no money before
or atter de war. I worked in Alabama until de war close.

"I seed millions of Yankees, just like bees. When de war close I went
wid' em. I did not work enny for a year. I wuz so glad when de war
ended, and dey tole me I wuz free I did not know what to do. I went wid
de Yankees, dey wuz kind to us. Dey said dey wuz shore glad to see us.
Dey gib us just what dey wanted us to hab.

"During de war, I had corn bread wid one piece o' meat a day. De meal
wuz not sifted. De white folks had sifters made of horse hair but de
slaves didn't have no sifters. When I carried a dress off to have it
made on Sunday for Mist'ss during de war, when she could not make it
herself, she gimme a biskit. We called Sunday, Blue Monday. She gimme
de biskit fur workin' on Sunday. Den I got a biskit fur going atter de
dress. I got about two biskits a year when de war was going on. I wuz
workin' to keep de soldiers fed, dey got de biskits.

"Tom Bridgers wuz marster's overseer. He had 160 chilluns by niggers.
Marster Bridgers rode a horse when he went ober de plantation.

"De only game I eber played wuz marbles. I played fer watermelons. We
didn't hab eny money so we played fer watermelons.

"In Alabama we got up at 4 o'clock and worked to 9 or 10 o'clock den we
had breakfast, en rested till 4 o'clock. Dat wuz when de weather wuz
dry and hot. It wud kill de truck to work it den. When it wuz wet we
worked longer. In North Carolina we worked from sun to sun, but we
rested two hours at noon. You hardly ever heard of a man gittin' sick.
If he did, he had de typhoid den Dr. Sewell at Knightdale, atter a
while called Jedge Sewell, would come en doctor him. Old man Jedge
Sewell was buried near St. Augustine School, other side Tarboro Road.

"I didn' have to pay anthing fer going to Alabama. I wuz carried. Bat
Moore carried me, he wuz de gardeen, but I had to pay to come back. Dey
went atter me, and I had to work two years to pay it back. Yes,
Sir-ree, two whole years to pay fer coming back. I wuz glad to git
back. Sometimes, dey gib us a fofe of de crap to farm. Some years we
didn' make much, when it wuz dry. No, we didn' make much. People didn'
sociate together, pore whites, free niggers, slaves, and de slave
owners. No dey didn' sociate much befo' de war, but dey did atter de
war, dey got to mixin' den.

"I et rabbits, an' possums, coons an' fish. I muddied de water an'
caught fish. I caught rabbits, coons, an' possums wid dogs. Dey fared
but middlin pore chance wid us. We caught rabbits in hollers an' caves;
an' possums in trees, but we had a hard time ketchin' squirrels. We
niggers had no guns, so we had a hard time ketchin' squirrels. I et
rabbits in summer whin dey had kits in 'em. We caught all dese animals
wid dogs.

"De white chillun didn' work, but de white folks wuz good to me. Yes,
Sir-ree, dey wuz good to me. If dey done anything to me it wuz my
fault. I belonged to Elam Smith's chilluns, Frank and John Elam.

"I seed many Yankees during de war in Alabama. When de war ended dey
tole me I wuz free. I wuz so glad I didn' know whut to do. De Yankees
tole me I wuz free. I went wid 'em. I stayed wid 'em from May till
August. Den I slipped away from 'em. I had no clothes and shoes till de
Yankees come. Yes, Sir, I went barefooted. Dey gimme clothes and shoes,
but I slipped away from 'em because dey wanted me to do things I didn'
want to do.

"White folks, if I must tell you, I must. I think Jesus sent you to me
so I can tell my story. Dey just wanted me to forage aroun' and git
chickens, collards, taters en anybody's hogs I could git. I didn' have
no slips or shoes, no unner clothes for 40 years befo' de Yankees come,
but I slipped away. I didn' want to do what dey wanted me t'do.

"De pore white folks done tolerable well but de rich slave owners
didn' 'low 'em to come on dere plantations. Dey didn' 'low free niggers
to come on de plantations if dey could help it, but dey couldn' hep it.
Dey slipped in dere at night when de marster didn' know it.

"My marster owned three plantations and 300 slaves. He started out wid
2 'oman slaves and raised 300 slaves. One wuz called short Peggy, and
the udder wuz called long Peggy. Long Peggy had 25 chillun. Long Peggy,
a black 'oman, wuz boss ob de plantation. Marster freed her atter she
had 25 chilluns, just think o' dat, raisin' 300 slaves wid two 'omans.
It sho is de truf do'.

"There wuz no jails but dey had whippin' pos' on de plantations. When a
nigger done anything he wuz tied and whupped, dare ain't no scars on my
back, no nary a one. Dere wuz slave auction blocks at Rolesville, en
down to Rosinburg, Harpsborough, below Zebulon, next place, Smithfield.

"White folks didn' hep me to read an' write. If I wuz caught wid a book
I had better run an' git in a hole somewhar. Dey didn' low me to hab
nothing to do wid books.

"My marster preached to us on Sunday. He wuz a preacher. My marster
preached to his slaves. No slaves didn' run away from my marster. He
wuz too good to 'em. De slaves from other places run away do', an' when
dey caught 'em dey whupped 'em too.

"Yes Sir, my marster gib us Christmas. Sometimes he gib us two weeks
befo' we went to work agin Christmas. Licker wuz no mo 'en water.
Brandy, de highest price of any of it wuz 40 cts. a gallon. We had a
plenty uv licker, but nobody got drunk. Sometimes a white man got drunk
en now en den a nigger would git drunk.

"All worked for one an'er den. I tell you dis young bunch ain't right,
dey don't do right, dey don't work fer one an'er.

"I never married befo' de war. Nobody married on marster's plantation,
but dey had 'omans. My 'oman wuz mighty good to me. I slep' anywhar I
could befo' de war ended, in de shuck pen, cotton seed house, an' went
barefooted in slavery days. I married Helen Jones atter de war. I had
four chilluns by her, 2 gals an' 2 boys. One o' dem boys is livin' now,
but I doan know whar he is. I had one child by my 'oman in slavery
time. My 'oman died in Greene County Alabama. I been married twice. I
married another 'oman named Amy Gumpton in Wake County. She had four
chillun by me, one, a boy is in de navy yard, a girl in Brooklyn, New
York, one in Wake County, a farmer, an' one died. I lub de southern
people, but de debbil got de bes' of 'em; dey wuz good to me.

"I doan think Mr. Abraham Lincoln wuz a good man, no sir-ree, de debbil
got him atter he whupped and won all de lan'. He wanted to gib it back
agin. De debbil got de bes' o' him. He didn' lib long atter he whupped,
did he?"

N.C. District:      No. 2
Worker:             T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:          924
Subject:            JOHN SMITH
Person Interviewed: John Smith
Editor:             G.L. Andrews

JOHN SMITH

10 Pettigrew St., Raleigh, N.C. Age 77.

"My mother was named Charlotte Smith and father was named Richmond
Sanders. You know niggers were sold an' traded an' given away just like
stock, horses, mules an' de like in slavery time.

"My mother belonged to John Smith and father belonged to Richmond
Sanders. I belonged first to John Smith, but was give away when I was a
child to Solomon Gardner. John Smith's plantation was in Johnston
County near Smithfield. Solomon Gardner's place was in Wake County. All
these people are dead an' gone. My uncle, Ben Thomas, died 'bout one
month ago in Johnston County. He was the last of the old gang. Mother
and father said we got reasonably good food and clothes. The houses
were small and poorly furnished but were warm and they got on very
well. There was 'bout twenty-five slaves on the place and they worked
long hours under overseers.

"The rules were strict about books, goin' visiting an' having meetings
of any kind. No slave was allowed to carry guns or hunt without some
white man with him unless his marster give him a pass. Dey caught
rabbits in gums, birds in traps an' hunted possums wid dogs at night.
Dere was not much time for fishin' cept at lay-by time and at de Fourth
of July. Den slaves an' whites sometime went fishin' in de Neuse River
together. At Christmas de holidays was give slaves and den dey had
plenty to eat, shoes, etc.

"Slaves were sold at Smithfield on a auction block but a lot were
carried to Richmond, Va. and to Fayetteville, N.C. Children were not
made to work till dey got 12 or 14 years old unless it was some light
work around de house, mindin' de table, fannin' flies, an' pickin' up
chips to start a fire, scratchin' marster's head so he could sleep in
de evenings an' washin' missus feet at night 'fore she went to bed.
Some of de missus had nigger servants to bathe 'em, wash dere feet an'
fix dere hair. When one nigger would wash de missus feet dare would be
another slave standin' dere wid a towel to dry 'em for her. Some of
dese missus atter de war died poor. Before dey died dey went from place
to place livin' on de charity of dere friends.

"I was born 2nd Sunday in May 1860. I remember seein' de Yankees but I
know very little 'bout 'em. Guess mos' all dem Yankees are dead now. De
ones dat whupped an' de ones dat got whupped are mos' all dead. I
lerned to read an' write since slavery. I remember de Yankees. Dey give
us chilluns hardtack. Dey had cans on dere backs an' guns, blue clothes
an' brass buttons on dere clothes. Dey had covered wagons in front an'
dey was walkin'. I remember seein' dem kill a hog and take part of de
hog an' carry it off on dere backs.

"De only time I saw anything in de slave situation dat made a big
impression on my mind was when Marster Thomas tied my Aunt Anne Thomas
to a peach tree and whupped her. I will never forgit how she cried.
Another thing I 'members, my uncle teached me to cuss folks. His name
was Needum Thomas. I can remember fore I could walk better than I can
remember happenings now.

"Atter de war my daddy took mother an' moved to Dr. Leach's in Wake
County, next year we went to Mrs. Betsy Jordan's plantation in Johnston
County. The fourth year atter the war they put me to work. We stayed
with the Jordans several years then we moved to Mr. Thomas' where my
aunt was whupped in slavery time an' de marster dat owned some of our
people in slavery time. We stayed there a few years. Then we moved to
John Avery's near Smithfield. Father bought a place there an' paid for
it.

"Father believed in whuppin like de white folks did. He cut de blood
out of me wid a switch an' scarred me up an' I left him. When I was
twenty-one, a free man, I went back an' paid father for every day I was
away from him from de time I ran away at 16 years old till I was
twenty-one. I owed him dat 'cause I was his until I was free. I
believes dat is why God has allowed me to live such a long time, 'cause
I paid a just debt. Daddy said before he died I had done more for him
dan de other chilluns. He whupped me too much but atter all he was my
father an' I loved him an' paid him all I owed him for de time I was
away.

"I married three times in Raleigh. I married Juliva Smith, she lived
one and one half years. We had one child dat lived six days. I have no
more chilluns. I married Mahalda Rand. She lived a year and three
months and the third an' last time I married Maggie Taylor. I lived
with her eleven years an' she died. I am single now.

"Haywood Smith was my first father-in-law. He is 'bout 108 years ole.
He lives at de County home.

"I am livin' right in dis world tryin' to be ready when God calls me.
Slavery was bad. Workin' the colored people over two hundred years
without giving 'em anything but dere food an' clothes. Yes slavery was
bad."

LE

N.C. District:     No. 2
Worker:            Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:         568
Subject:           JOSEPHINE SMITH
Story teller:      Josephine Smith
Editor:            Daisy Bailey Waitt

[Illustration: Josephine Smith]

JOSEPHINE SMITH
Ex-Slave Story

An interview with Josephine Smith, 94 years old of 1010 Mark
Street, Raleigh, N.C.

"I wuz borned in Norfolk, Virginia an' I doan know who we belonged to,
but I 'members de day we wuz put on de block at Richmond. I wuz jist
todlin' roun' den, but me an' my mammy brought a thousand dollars. My
daddy, I reckon, belonged ter somebody else, an' we wuz jist sold away
from him jist lak de cow is sold away from de bull.

"A preacher by de name of Maynard bought me an' mammy an' carried us
ter Franklinton, whar we lived till his daughter married Doctor John
Leach of Johnston County; den I wuz give ter her.

"All my white folkses wuz good ter me, an' I reckon dat I ain't got no
cause fer complaint. I ain't had much clothes, an' I ain't had so much
ter eat, an' a many a whuppin', but nobody ain't nebber been real bad
ter me.

"I 'members seein' a heap o' slave sales, wid de niggers in chains, an'
de spec'ulators sellin' an' buyin' dem off. I also 'members seein' a
drove of slaves wid nothin' on but a rag 'twixt dere legs bein'
galloped roun' 'fore de buyers. 'Bout de wust thing dat eber I seed
do' wuz a slave 'oman at Louisburg who had been sold off from her
three weeks old baby, an' wuz bein' marched ter New Orleans.

"She had walked till she wuz give out, an' she wuz weak enough ter fall
in de middle o' de road. She wuz chained wid twenty or thirty other
slaves an' dey stopped ter rest in de shade o' a big oak while de
speculators et dere dinner. De slaves ain't havin' no dinner. As I pass
by dis 'oman begs me in God's name fer a drink o' water, an' I gives it
ter her. I ain't neber be so sorry fer nobody.

"Hit wuz in de mont' of August an' de sun wuz bearin' down hot when de
slaves an' dere drivers leave de shade. Dey walk fer a little piece an'
dis 'oman fall out. She dies dar side o' de road, an' right dar dey
buries her, cussin', dey tells me, 'bout losin' money on her.

"Atter de war I comes ter Raleigh an' wucks fer Major Russ den I cooks
a year on Hillsboro Street fer somebody who I can' 'member right now,
den I goes ter Louisburg ter cook in Mr. Dedman's hotel, an' hearin'
'bout Melissa I fin's dat she am my sister, so I goes ter Mis'
Mitchel's an' I gits her.

"A few years atter de war I marries Alex. Dunson wuz a body slave fer
Major Fernie Green an' went through all de war. Me an' him lived
tergether sixty years, I reckon, an' he died de night 'fore
Thanksgivin' in 1923.

"Slavery wuzn't so good, case it divided famblies an' done a heap o'
other things dat wuz bad, but de wuck wuz good fer ever'body. It's a
pity dat dese youngins nowadays doan know de value o' wuck lak we did.
Why when I wuz ten years old I could do any kind o' house wuck an' spin
an' weave ter boot. I hope dat dese chilluns will larn somethin' in
school an' church. Dats de only way dey can larn it."

AC

N.C. District:        No. 2
Worker:               T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:            631
Subject:              NELLIE SMITH
Person Interviewed:   Nellie Smith
Editor:               Daisy Bailey Waitt

NELLIE SMITH

Main St. Dunn, North Carolina
Route 6

"My name is Nellie Smith. I wus born on a plantation in Harnett County
in 1856, near where Linden now stands. I belonged to ole man Jack
Williams. His wife wus dead when I wus borned. There were many acres in
the plantation; it wus a large one. I don't know exactly how many
acres. There were 'bout fifty slaves on the place. The slave houses
were on a hill. Marster lived in the big house; and it wus a big one
too.

"I do not remember ever goin' hongry when I wus a slave. Father wus the
butler and mother wus a house woman, and we got plenty to eat. My
mother wus named Rosetta Williams and father wus named Atlas Williams.
I do not remember my grandmother and grandfather, but I remember my
great grandmother.

"We had good home made clothes and good beds. Jack Williams wus good to
his slaves. He wus good to me and my mother and father, I have heard
'em say that he wus always good to 'em. Our livin' with him wus good
and we loved him. He thought a lot o' his niggers. He had six children
of his own 4 boys and 2 girls; the boys Dr. Jack Williams, Dr. Jim
Williams, William Williams, Jim Williams; the girls Mary and Martha.

"I did little work in slavery time. Sometimes I fanned flies off the
table at meal times and did other light work. They made children do
very little work in slavery time. We children played base, an' hide the
switch.

"I saw a jail for slaves in Fayetteville, North Carolina, but I never
saw a slave sold. I saw an overseer whup a man once but he certainly
didn't hurt him much. He done more talkin' dan whuppin.

"We went to the white folks' church but they would not allow any of us
any books. No one taught us to read an' write. My father ran away once
because he would not take a whuppin'. When he came back they did not do
or say anything to 'im. Jack Williams would not allow a patteroller to
whup a nigger on his land. If they could git on his land dey were safe.
He had overseers at the plantation. I remember one whose name wus Buck
Buckannon. When we got sick Dr. Jack Williams looked after us. When
Marster Jim Williams got to be a doctor he looked after us.

"Yes, I remember de Yankees. Dey went to our house one Sunday mornin'.
Dey did not fight on our side of the river; dey fought on de other
side o' de river near de Smith House. It wus the battle of Averysboro.
De Smith House wus a hospital. Dey came into the house, my sister Irene
wus house girl. The Yankees put deir pistols to her head and said, 'You
better tell me where dem things are hid. Tell us where de money and
silver is hid at.' Sister did not tell. Boss had started off wid de
silver dat mornin'. De Yankees caught him, took it, an' his boots,
horse and all he had. He come back home barefooted. Dey got mos'
everthing at Marster's house. Dey took my mother's shawl, an' a lot of
things belongin' to de slaves.

"I have heard o' de Ku Klux Klan, ha! ha! Yes, I have. I heard tell of
dey beatin' up people, but I never got into any tangle wid 'em. I just
don't know bout all dem old folks Lincoln, Davis, Booker Washington. I
think slavery wus a bad thing cause dey sold families apart, fathers
from their wives and children, and mothers away from their children.
Two of my sisters were fixed up to be sold when the war ended."

LE

N.C. District:       No. 2
Worker:              Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:           465
Subject:             SARAH ANN SMITH
Person Interviewed:  Sarah Ann Smith
Editor:              G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG ? 1937]

SARAH ANN SMITH

An interview with Sarah Ann Smith of 623 West Lenoir Street, Raleigh,
North Carolina.

"I wus borned January 22, 1858 ter Martha an' Green Womble in Chatham
County, near Lockville. My father 'longed ter Mr. John Womble an' mammy
'longed ter Captain Elias Bryant. Dey had six chilluns, I bein' nex'
ter de oldes'.

"Father wus a carpenter an' by his havin' a trade he got along better
before an' atter de war dan de other niggers. Mammy wus housekeeper an'
cook an' she always wus neat as a pin an' as quick as lightnin'. Both
families wus good ter dere slaves, givin' dem plenty ter eat an' enough
ter wear.

"I stayed wid mammy on Captain Bryant's plantation, an' I doan 'member
doin' any wurk at all 'cept lookin' atter de babies onct in a long
while.

"When de Yankees come Marse wus off ter de war so dey tuck de place wid
out any trouble at all. Dey wusn't as good ter us as our white folkses
wus an' somehow we doan feel right 'bout 'em takin' Marse's stuff, but
we knows hit ain't no use ter say nothin' 'bout hit.

"At last de war wus ober, de Captain wus too busted ter hire us ter
stay on, so we moved over ter Mr. Womble's place den.

"Life wus a heap different from what hit wus 'fore de surrender. We
ain't had no fun now case when we has time we is too tired an' when we
do have time is soldom. No mo' dances an' parties fer us. We ain't eben
got de 'lasses ter have a candy pullin'. We ain't got de 'ligion we had
'fore de war, so prayer meetin' am not hilt often. De Yankees gived us
a school but dey ain't give us nothin' ter eat so we's got ter wurk, we
ain't got no time fer edgercation.

"I growed up in dis han' mouth way an' when I wus thirteen I seed Henry
Smith who wus rentin' a little farm dar near us. He wus young an' slim
an' yaller. My folks wanted me ter marry Bill Bunn but he wus
thirty-odd, black an' heavy, an' I ain't laked him.

"Me an' Henry we cou'ted jist as we pleased case dey warn't strict on
us an' when I tol' him dat I reckin dat I is got ter marry Bill Bunn he
gits mad an' he sez dat I ain't nother, case I is gwine ter marry him.
Well I did an' I ain't never been sorry yet.

"Henry has been dead now fo'teen years an' de five chilluns what we had
am dead too an' I is hopin' ter git my pension soon. I does need hit,
bein' all alone in de worl'."

LE

N.C. District:         No. 2
Worker:                T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:             394
Subject:               WILLIAM SMITH
Story teller:          William Smith
Editor:                Daisy Bailey Waitt

WILLIAM SMITH
920 Oberlin Road

"My full name is William Smith. I was born August 17, eighty years ago,
near Neuse River at a place called Wilder's Grove. I belonged to Gaston
E. Wiley and my missus was Sarah. Don't remember how many children they
had but one or two o' 'em are living in Raleigh now, some place on
North Street. I had good food and clothing and a good place to sleep. I
was not big enough to work much but they were good to me. I jest done
little things aroun' the house.

"I remember seein' the Yankees. I seen 'em take things. Yes, I wus big
enough to see 'em shoot hogs, an' cows, an' kill the chickens. They
went through the house and took what they wanted. After the war we
moved over about the Asylum on the Haywood Place. We went to Bryant
Green's from the Haywood place. We lived in Raleigh a long time, then I
went to Arkansas. My mother and father died in Raleigh.

"I stayed in Arkansas 40 years, and then came back to Raleigh. I am
partly paralyzed. I have had a stroke. I married Anna Regan of Wake
County. She went from Wake County to Arkansas and I married her there.
Her mother's father and the family all went to Arkansas. She is 71
years old the 8th of last April. She has had two strokes and can't talk
any more. We have no boys but two girls, Matilda and Emma Maye Smith.
Matilda Parker my daughter lives in Pittsburg, Pa. Emma Maye works to
support us. She works as nurse for Mrs. J.H. Hunter but right now is
out of work. Charity helps us a little. One half peck meal, 1 pound
powdered milk, two cans grape fruit juice, one half pound coffee per
week. This amounts to about eighty cents worth rations per week. The
charity don't have much to give.

"I have been back from Arkansas nine years the seventh of last April. I
was never teached no books. I never saw a patteroller, but daddy told
me about 'em. I do not remember much about churches before the
surrender. I cannot read and write.

"I don't remember the overseers, and I know nuthin' 'bout dem men
Lincoln and the rest of 'em you have asked me bout. Reckon they were
all right."

BN

N.C. District:        No. 2
Worker:               Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:            797
Subject:              THE BOUND GIRL
Person Interviewed:   Laura Sorrell
Editor:               G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: JUL 24 1937]

THE BOUND GIRL

An interview with Laura Sorrell, 72 years old, of 207 Battle Street,
Raleigh. The story is her mother's.

"My mammy, Virginia Burns, wus borned in Fayetteville, Cumberland
County. She never knowed her parents an' frum de fust she can 'member
she is a bound girl.

"Frum de fust she could 'member she wus bound out ter a Mis' Frizelle
what beat her, give her scraps lak a dog, an' make her wuck lak a man.
Dey eben makes her git on de well sweep an' go down in de well an'
clean hit out. She said dat she wus skeerd nigh ter death.

"She wus a grown woman when she 'cided dat she can't stand de treatment
no mo'. She has cut wood since she wus big enough ter pick up de axe
an' she makes up her min' ter quit.

"Dey wus a-fixin' ter chain her up an' beat her lak dey usually done
when she 'cides ter go away. She has ter go den or take de whuppin' an'
she ain't got time ter make no plans.

"Fust she runs ter de Marster's bedroom an' slips on a pair of his ole
shoes, den she goes out ter de big chicken house back of de barn. She
hyars de Marster a-callin' fer her 'fore she gits ter de woods so she
runs back an' hides in de chicken house.

"Dey calls an' dey calls, an' de chickens comes ter de roost but she
lays low an' doan make no fuss, so dey goes on ter sleep. She hyars de
folkses a-callin' her but she lays still, den she sees de torches what
dey am usein' ter find her an' she thanks God dat she ain't in de
woods. Atter awhile she thinks dat she can sneak out, but she hyars de
bayin' of de bloodhoun's in de swamp so she lays still.

"Hit am four o'clock 'fore all gits quiet. She knows dat hit am safe
ter go now, case she has done hyard Mister Frizelle an' one of de
patterollers a-talkin' as dey goes back ter de house. Dey 'cides ter go
home an' start out ag'in de nex' mornin' bright an' early.

"Mammy am skeerd pink but she knows dat unless she am keerful dey am
gwine ter ketch her. She lays still till daybreak den she flies fer de
woods.

"I'se hyard mammy say dat dem nights she slept in de woods wus awful.
She'd find a cave sometimes an' den ag'in she'd sleep in a holler log,
but she said dat ever'time de hoot owls holler or de shiverin' owls
shiver dat she'd cower down an' bite her tongue ter keep frum
screamin'.

"She said dat de woods wus full of snakes an' hit wus near 'bout two
weeks 'fore she got ter Guilford County. She had stold what she et on
de way dar, an' dat hadn't been much so she wus weak.

"One day she crept outen de woods an' look roun' her an' hit bein' in
July, she spies a watermillion patch. She looks roun' an' den flies
out dar an' picks up a big million, den she shakes a leg back ter de
woods.

"While she wus settin' dar eatin' de watermillion a young white man
comes up an' axes her her business an' she, seein' dat he am
kind-lookin', tells him her story.

"She fully 'specks him ter turn her ober ter de sheriff but 'stid of
dat he tells her dat his name am Daniel Green, an' dat he am a Union
sympathizer, an' den he takes her ter some colored folkses house.

"Dese colored folkses am named Berry an' my mammy am stayin' dar when
she falls in love wid my paw, Jake Sorrell, an' marries him.

"She ain't never been ter dances an' sich before but now she goes some,
an' hit wus at one of dese dances whar she met my paw. When she gits
engaged ter him she won't let him kiss her till she axes Marster Daniel
iffen she can marry him. Yo' see she wus wuckin' fer Marse Dan.

"Well he give his consent an' dey wus married. Dey had me soon, case I
wus eight months old when de Yankees come, an' we wus freed by de law.

"My mammy an' paw had a hard time do' dey ain't had but us two
chilluns, but dey manages ter feed us all right. Dey wus superstitious
an' paid de witch doctor a right smart ter keep off de witches but jist
de same we got along well as most folks eben do' we did have ter eat
hard tack an' black molasses fer seberal years atter de war."

LE

N.C. District:          No. 2
Worker:                 T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:              1414
Subject:                RIA SORRELL
Person Interviewed:     Ria Sorrell
Editor:                 G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 23 1937]

RIA SORRELL

97 years old. 536 E. Edenton Street, Raleigh, N.C.

"I jist lak three years of bein' one hundred years old. I belonged to
Jacob Sorrell. His wife wus named Elizabeth. My age wus give to me by
Mr. Bob Sorrell, the only one of ole marster's chilluns dat is livin'
now.

"Dey had four boys, Marcillers, Bob, Adolphus and Dr. Patrick Sorrell.
Dey had three girls, Averada an' two udder ones dat died 'fore dey wus
named. I wus born on marster's plantation near Leesville, in Wake
County. Dats been a long time ago. I can't git around now lak I could
when I wus on de plantation.

"Dere wus 'bout twenty-five slaves on de place an' marster jist
wouldn't sell a slave. When he whupped one he didn't whup much, he wus
a good man. He seemed to be sorry everytime he had to whup any of de
slaves. His wife wus de pure debil, she jist joyed whuppin' Negroes.
She wus tall an' spare-made wid black hair an' eyes. Over both her eyes
wus a bulge place in her forehead. Her eyes set way back in her head.
Her jaws were large lak a man's an' her chin stuck up. Her mouth wus
large an' her lips thin an' seemed to be closed lak she had sumptin' in
her mouth most all de time.

"When marster come ter town she raised ole scratch wid de slaves. She
whupped all she could while marster wus gone. She tried to boss
marster but he wouldn't allow dat. He kept her from whuppin' many a
slave. She jist wouldn't feed a slave an' when she had her way our food
wus bad. She said underleaves of collards wus good enough for slaves.
Marster took feedin' in his hands an' fed us plenty at times. He said
people couldn't work widout eatin'.

"Our houses wus good houses, 'case marster seed to it dey wus fixed
right. We had good beds an' plenty of kiver. De houses wus called de
nigger houses. Dey wus 'bout two hundred yards from de big house. Our
houses had two rooms an' marster's had seven rooms.

"We didn't have any overseers, marster said he didn't believe in 'em
an' he didn't want any. De oldest slaves on the place woke us up in the
morning, an' acted as foreman. Marster hardly ever went to de field. He
tole Squire Holman an' Sam Sorrell, two ole slaves, what he wanted done
an' dey tole us an' we done it. I worked at de house as nurse an' house
girl most of de time.

"Mother an' father worked in de field. Mother wus named Judy an' father
wus named Sam. You sees father wus a slave foreman. Marster bought
Squire Holman from de Holmans an' let him keep his name. Dats why he
wus called dat.

"We worked from sunup till sunset wid a rest spell at 12 o'clock of two
hours. He give us holidays to rest in. Dat was Christmas, a week off
den, den a day every month, an' all Sundays. He said he wus a Christian
an' he believed in givin' us a chance. Marster died of consumption. He
give us patches an' all dey made on it. He give slaves days off to work
dere patches.

"I shore believes marster went to Heaven, but missus, well I don't
know. Don' know 'bout her, she wus so bad. She would hide her baby's
cap an' tell me to find it. If I couldn't fin' it, she whupped me. She
would call marster, an' I doin' de best I could to please her, an' say
come here Jacob an' whup dis nigger, but marster paid no attention to
her. He took our part. Many wus de meals he give us unbeknown to his
wife. Dere wus no mixin' white an' black on marster's place, no sir,
nothin' lak dat. He wus lak a father to us. Sometimes he brought hog
haslets an' good things to de nigger house an' tole us to cook it. When
it wus done he come an' et all he wanted, got up an' said, 'I'm goin'
now,' an' you didn't see him no more till next day.

"We had prayer meetin' anytime an' we went to the white folks church.
Dere wus no whiskey on de place, no, no, honey, no whiskey. Now at corn
shuckin's dey had a big supper an' all et all dey wanted. I'll tell you
Jake Sorrell wus all right. We didn't have any dances no time. Some
nights marster would come to our cabins, call us all into one of 'em an
pray wid us. He stood up in de floor an' tole us all to be good an
pray. I saw him die. I saw him when de breath went out of him. De last
word he said wus, 'Lord do your will, not mine.' Den he breathed twice
an' wus no mo'.

"Missus died since de surrender, when she got sick she sent for me to
go an' wait on her. I went an' cleaned her lak a baby, waited on her
till de evenin' she died dat night. I went off dat evenin' late to
spend de night an' next mornin' when I got dere she wus dead. I jist
couldn't refuse missus when she sent for me even if she had treated me
bad.

"My grandmother wus as white as you is. She wus Lottie Sorrell. Marster
bought my grandmother. I do not know my grandfather's name. Grandmother
wus a cook an' she tole me the reason she was so white wus 'cause she
stood over de fire so much. Ha, ha, dats what she tole me. She had long
straight hair. I 'members her well.

"Yes I 'members de Yankees. De Southern, our folks, wus in front. Dey
come along a road right by our house. Our folks wus goin' on an' de
Yankees right behind. You could hear 'em shootin'. Dey called it
skirmishin'. It wus rainin' an our folks wus goin' through de mud an'
slush. Dey had wagins an' some would say, 'Drive up, drive up, Goddamn
it, drive up, de damn Yankees right behind us.' Dey had turkeys an'
chickens' on de wagins an' on dere hosses. Dey got things out of de
houses an' took de stock. Dey searched de houses an' took de quilts an'
sheets an' things.

"De Yankees wus soon dere an' dey done de same thing. Dat wus a time.
Dey took all dey could find an' dere want much left when all got
through. De Yankees poured out lasses an' stomped down things dey could
not carry off. I wus afraid of de Yankees. Dey come up an' said, 'Haint
you got some money round here?' I tole 'em I knowed nothin' about
money. Dey called me auntie an' said 'Auntie tell us whar de money is,
you knows.' I says, 'Dey don't let me see everything around here, no
dat dey don't.'

"When dey tole us we wus free we stayed right on wid marster. We got
crackers an' meat from de Yankees an' when de crop wus housed in de
fall marster give us part of all we made. We come to Raleigh on a ole
steer cart to git our crackers an' meat dat wus our 'Lowance. We stayed
at marster's till father died. I married there. We finally moved to the
Page place 'bout eleven miles north of Raleigh. We been farmin' wid de
white folks eber since, till we got so we couldn't work.

"I married Buck Sorrell since de surrender. We had four boys an' two
girls, six children in all. Dey are all dead, 'cept one, her name is
Bettie. She works at Dr. Rogers'.

"Dr Young looked after us when we wus sick.

"Dere wus one thing dey wouldn't allow, dat wus books an' papers. I
can't read an' write. I heard talk of Abraham Lincoln comin' through
when talk of de war come 'bout. Dey met, him an' Jeff Davis, in South
Carolina. Lincoln said, 'Jeff Davis, let dem niggers go free.' Jeff
Davis tole him you can't make us give up our property.' Den de war
started.

"A lot of de niggers in slavery time wurked so hard dey said dey hated
to see de sun rise in de mornin'. Slavery wus a bad thing, 'cause some
white folks didn't treat dere niggers right."

LE

N.C. District:  No. 2
Worker:         Mary Hicks
No. Words:      320
Subject:        A SLAVERY STORY
Story Teller:   CHANEY SPELL
Editor:         George L. Andrews

CHANEY SPELL

An interview with Chaney Spell, 101 years old, Contena Heights, Wilson,
North Carolina.

"I really doan know who my first marster wus, case I has been sold an'
hired so much since den. I reckin dat I wus borned in New Hanover er
Beaufort County an' I wus sold fust time in my mammy's arms. We wus
sold ter a man in Carteret County and from dar de speculators took me
ter Franklin County. I wus sold ter a Mr. McKee an' dat's de fust thing
dat I 'members.

"I doan 'member anything 'bout maw 'cept dat dey called her Sal an' dat
she died years an' years ago. I reckin dat I once had a pappy, but I
ain't neber seed him.

"Marster McKee wus mean to us, an' we ain't had nothin' to eat nor wear
half of de time. We wus beat fer ever' little thing. He owned I reckin
two er three hundret slaves an' he had four overseers. De overseers wus
mean an' dey often beat slaves ter death.

"I worked in de house, sometime 'round de table, but I ain't got so
much to eat.

"When word come dat we wus to be sold I wus glad as I could be. Dey
tol' me dat de marster has gambled away his money an' lost ever'thing
but a few slaves. Later I learned dat he had lost me to a Mr. Hartman
in Nash County.

"Marse Sid Hartman wus good as he could be, sometimes his overseers
wusn't but when he foun' it out he let dem go. Marse Sid ain't got but
one weakness an' dat am pretty yaller gals. He just can't desist dem at
all. Finally Mis' Mary found it out an' it pretty near broke her heart.
De ole marster, Marster Sid's daddy, said dat long as he could ride a
hoss he could look out fer de plantation so Marse Sid took Mis' Mary to
de mountains.

"Soon atter dey went away de war broke an' ole marster wus right busy,
not dat de slaves ain't stuck to him but de Yankees won't let dem
stick. When Marse Sid an' Mis' Mary come home de war wus closin' an'
dey has lost dere slaves. De slaves still loves 'em do' an' dey goes
over an' cleans house an' fixes fer de young folks.

"Atter de war I married Lugg Spell an' we had five chilluns. He's been
dead dese many years an' I'se worked, worked an' worked to raise de
chilluns. I has been on charity a long time now, a long time."

EH

N.C. District:   No. 2
Worker:          Mary Hicks
No. Words:       432
Subject:         A SLAVERY FAMILY
Reference:       Tanner Spikes
Editor:          George L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 4 1937]

A SLAVERY FAMILY

An interview with Tanner Spikes, 77 years of age, of 43 Bragg Street,
Raleigh, North Carolina.

"My mammy had fifteen chilluns which wus all borned on Doctor Fab
Haywood's plantation here in Wake County. My mammy 'longed ter him, but
my daddy 'longed ter a Mr. Wiggins in Pasquotank County. I think that
Dr. Haywood bought him just 'fore de war. Anyhow, we took de name of
Wiggins.

"Mammy's name wus Lucinda an' pappy's name wus Osburn. I doan 'member
seein' many Yankees on Dr. Haywood's place. I doan reckon many comed
dar. Anyhow, we had a gyard.

"I 'members a corn shuckin' what happened 'fore de war wus over, an'
what a time dem niggers did have. Dey kisses when dey fin' a red year
an' atter dat dey pops some popcorn an' dey dances ter de music of de
banjo which Uncle Jed am a-playin'. Dey dances all night de best I can
'member.

"I seed a few Yankees, but dey wus just lookin' fer something ter eat.
We ain't knowed nothin' 'bout freedom, but de Yankees tol' us dat we
ort ter be free, dey also said dat we ort ter have meat an' stuff in de
smokehouse. My mammy sez dat dey ain't got good sense an' she tells
marse what dey said.

"De Yankees has done tuck all de rations so dar ain't nothin' lef' fer
de niggers ter take but mammy tells Marse Haywood what dey sez anyhow.
Marse Haywood sez dat iffen he ketch any niggers in his smokehouse dat
he'll skin 'em alive. He also sez dat we ain't free an' dat we ain't
never gwine ter be free.

"De nex' year, atter de war, wus a hard year. We ain't had nothin' ter
eat but hardtack an' 'lasses an' sometimes not half enough of dat. My
pappy still farmed fer Marse Haywood, but hit ain't as good as it is in
slavery days.

"Seberal years atter dat, while we wus livin' on Davie Street, I met
Frank Spikes an' I married him. I can't tell yo' much 'bout our
love-makin' case hit warn't much, but he always called me 'honey gal'
an' he axed me ter marry him in de kitchen while I was washin' dishes.
He jist puts his arms 'round me an' he sez, 'I wants ter marry yo',
honey gal.'

"Well we gits married by de Baptist preacher in Raleigh fifty odd years
ago an' we lives tergether till dis past March, when he dies.

"Other boys comed ter see me but I ain't loved none of dem but Frank.
He ain't never whupped me but onct an' dat wus fer sassin' him, an' I
reckin dat I needed dat.

"We had five chilluns an' I'se stayin' wid my daughter since he died,
but I misses him, yes mam, I misses him purty awful."

EH

N.C. District:       No. 2
Worker:              T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:           817
Subject:             ANNIE STEPHENSON
Person Interviewed:  Annie Stephenson
Editor:              G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 6 1937]

ANNIE STEPHENSON
80 years old
1813 Rosewood Ave.
Richmond, Va.

Now at 717 Saunder's Street
Raleigh, N.C.

"I wus born in Hillsboro, N.C. I 'longed to Charles Holman and my
missus wus named Rachel. He owned a plantation near Hillsboro. It wus a
mighty big plantation in Orange County, an' he had a good many slaves
on dat place. We had tolerable good food an' log cabins and clothes dat
you wove in de loom. Home-wove cloth. We had no feather bed. We did not
know nuthin' 'bout feather beds. Slaves like dat had bunks an' some
slept on de floor. We went barefooted most of the time. Slave shoes had
wooden bottoms on 'em. Chilluns wus not give shoes at our place till
dey wus big enough to work.

"I 'member seein' de Yankees. Dey wore blue clothes an had brass
buttons on 'em. De only work I done wus to sweep yards an' nurse small
chilluns. I done very little heavy work. My mother wus named Nicy
Oldman an' she worked in de field. My father wus named Billy Briggs,
cause he 'longed to the Briggs family. I do not 'member seein' my
father but one time. I never seen a slave sold or whupped, but I heard
tell of it. My mother tole me 'bout marster whuppin' so severe. We had
a rough boss. He had two colored foremen. Dey were slaves who 'longed
to marster.

"Dere wus no patches allowed to any of the slaves, an' none of 'em had
any money.

"We wus not allowed to have any prayer meetin's. Mother said she never
knowed one on de plantation.

"Dere wus a lot of talk 'bout de patterollers but marster done his own
sneakin' around. He done a lot of eavesdroppin'. My mother said when
dey tho't he wus asleep he wus awake. He wus strict on his slaves an' I
didn't know what church wus. No books of any kind wus allowed to slaves
an' I can't read an' write.

"They give two days Christmas. Mother said dat had always been
marster's rule.

"I 'member de cornshuckin's. Dey lasted two or three days. Dere wus
enough slaves to shuck de corn. Dey had plenty of cider at corn
shuckin's an' a lot better things to eat den at other times. Marster
made corn, peas, an' tobacco on de farm, mostly corn. Dey had plenty
hogs an' dat wus a time when dey killed 'em. Dryin' up de fat for lard,
trimmin' an' saltin' de meat an' chitlins. De hog guts wus called
chitlins. Slaves wus allowed to eat meats as soon as de hogs wus
gutted. Dey wus allowed to boil some lean parts of de meat an' eat it
at de killin's.

"We played base an' hide an' jumpin' when I wus a chile.

"When we got right smart an' sick we had a doctor. When we wus not
mighty sick, we took tea made of catnip, sassafras, an' roots.

"Yes, I 'member when dey tole us we wus free. Mother got up de chilluns
to leave. She got just a few clothes. I 'member seein' my uncle come
to de house an' put up de horse. He put 'im in de stable an' we all
lef' together. We went to my uncle 'bout five miles away on his
marster's plantation. His marster wus named Harvey Roundtree. We stayed
there three weeks, den we went to a white man's place, Bill Gates. We
stayed there several years. Mother had six chilluns. Three wus boun'
out for dere victuals an' clothes an' three wus with her.

"We come to Wake County when I wus fully grown. We come in a covered
wagon. I saw father one time to 'member him. He died before de war
closed, an' mother never married again. We went to Mr. Jeff Upchurch of
Wake County an' worked on his farm. We stayed there ten or twelve years
an' I married while we wus there. I married Albert Stephenson. We
stayed right on there about six years after we married. We then went to
Mr. Lonnie Stephen's place, the man who onct owned my husband's father.
We stayed there two years workin' as day hands, then we rented a farm
from Mr. Joe Smith. Dis wus de fust time any of us had ever farmed for
ourselves. We kept it up until old age made us unable to farm an' all
de chilluns had got grown an' lef' us.

"We had thirteen chilluns, an' six is livin' yet. My husband died two
years ago dis comin' August.

"Slavery from what I knows an' whats been tole me wus a mighty bad
thing. Don' see how some of de slaves stood it. I never did min' work
but I is unable to work now. I has got a good will but I is worn out.
De only way I lives is by goin' 'round 'mong my people. I have no home
of my own."

LE

N.C. District:       No. 2
Worker:              Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:           1519
Subject:             SAM T. STEWART, EX-SLAVE
Person Interviewed:  Sam T. Stewart
Editor:              Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 1 1937]

[Illustration: Sam T. Stewart]

SAM T. STEWART [HW: 84 years.]

"My name is Sam T. Stewart. I was born in Wake County, North Carolina
Dec. 11, 1853. My father was a slave, A.H. Stewart, belonging to James
Arch Stewart, a slave owner, whose plantation was in Wake County near
what is now the Harnett County line of Southern Wake. Tiresa was my
mother's name. James Arch Stewart, a preacher, raised my father, but my
mother was raised by Lorenzo Franks, a Quaker in Wake County. When I
was two years old James Arch Stewart sold my father to speculators, and
he was shipped to Mississippi. I was too young to know my father.

"The names of the speculators were--Carter Harrison, and--, and a man
named Roulhac. I never saw my father again, but I heard from him the
second year of the surrender, through his brother and my aunt. My
father died in Mississippi.

"The speculators bought up Negroes as a drover would buy up mules. They
would get them together by 'Negro drivers', as the white men employed
by the speculators were called. Their names were,----Jim Harris of
Raleigh, and----yes, Dred Thomas, who lived near Holly Springs in Wake
County. Wagon trains carried the rations on the trip to Mississippi.
The drivers would not start until they had a large drove. Then the
slaves were fastened together with chains. The chain was run between
them, when they had been lined up like soldiers in double file. A small
chain was attached to a Negro on the left and one to the Negro on the
right and fastened to the main chain in the center. Billy Askew was
another speculator. He lived on the corner of Salisbury and Carbarrus
Street in Raleigh. Sometimes as many as thirty slaves were carried in a
drove. They walked to Mississippi.

"My brothers and sisters are dead. Down on the plantations our houses
were built of poles daubed with mud, with a rived board (split board).
I had good beds, good clothes, and plenty to eat. We made it and we ate
it. When a slave owner treated his slaves unusually good some other
slave owner would tell him that he was raising slaves who would rise
against him. Lorenzo Franks, who owned me and my mother, was a Quaker.
He treated his slaves unusually well. He would not sell any of them.
His brother was an Iron Side Baptist preacher, and he would tell his
brother he was raising slaves who would rise against him. Franks owned
seventeen slaves, I don't know how many Stewart owned."

[HW: m p. 6] [TR: Editor indicated three paragraphs on page 6 (page 322
of the volume) should have been moved here.]

"I did farm work in slavery time. I earned no money except what we made
on patches. These patches were given to my mother by my master. We
caught birds and game, sent it to town, and sold it for money. We
caught birds and partridges in traps. Our master would bring them to
town, sell them for us, and give us the money. We had a lot of possums
and other game to eat. We got our food out of the big garden planted
for the whole shebang. My master overseered his plantation.

"We didn't think much of the poor white man. He was down on us. He was
driven to it, by the rich slave owner. The rich slave owner wouldn' let
his Negroes sociate with poor white folks. Some of the slave owners,
when a poor white man's land joined theirs and they wanted his place
would have their Negroes steal things and carry them to the poor white
man, and sell them to him. Then the slave owner, knowing where the
stuff was, (Of course the slave had to do what his master told him.)
would go and find his things at the poor white man's house. Then he
would claim it, and take out a writ for him, but he would give him a
chance. He would tell him to sell out to him, and leave, or take the
consequences. That's the way some of the slave owners got such large
tracks of lands.

"The free Negro was a child by a white man and a colored woman, or a
white woman and a Negro slave. A child by a white man and a Negro woman
was set free when the man got ready. Sometimes he gave the free Negro
slaves. Oscar Austin, an issue, was set free and given slaves by his
master and daddy. Old man Oscar Austin lived by the depot in Raleigh.
He is dead now.

"When a child by a Negro man slave and a white woman arrived he could
not be made a slave, but he was bound out until he was 21 years old.
The man, who ever wanted him, had him bound to him by the courts and
was his gardeen until he was 21 years old. He could not be made a slave
if he was born of a free woman. There were jails for slaves called
dungeons; the windows were small. Slaves were put into jail for
misdemeanors until court was held, but a white man could not be kept
there over 30 days without giving bond. Whites and slaves were kept in
the same jail house, but in separate rooms.

"They never taught me to read and write; and most slaves who got any
reading and writing certainly stole it. There were rules against slaves
having books. If the patterollers caught us with books they would whip
us. There were whipping posts on the plantation but patterollers tied
Negroes across fences to whip them. There was no church on the
plantation. We had prayer meetings in the cabins. We had big times at
corn shuckings and dances. We all had plenty of apple and peach brandy
but very few got drunk. I never saw a nigger drunk until after the
surrender. We went to the white folks' church. We were partitioned off
in the church.

"The patterollers visited our house every Saturday night, generally. We
set traps to catch the patterollers. The patterollers were poor white
men. We stretched grape vines across the roads, then we would run from
them. They would follow, and get knocked off their horses. I knew many
of the patterollers. They are mostly dead. Their children, who are
living now in Wake County and Raleigh, are my best friends, and I will
therefore not tell who they were. I was caught by the patterollers in
Raleigh.

"I would have been whipped to pieces if it hadn't been for a white boy
about my age by the name of Thomas Wilson. He told them I was his
nigger, and they let me go. We had brought a load of lightwood splints
in bundles to town on a steer cart. This was near the close of the war.
We had sold out one load of splints had had been paid for them in
Confederate money. We had several bills. We went into a bar and bought
a drink, each paying one dollar a drink, or two dollars for two small
drinks. The bar was in the house where the Globe Clothing Store is now
located on the corner of Wilmington and Exchange Streets. Just as I
swallowed my drink a constable grabbed me by the back of the neck, and
started with me to the guard house, where they done their whippin'.
Down at the guard house Nick Denton, the bar tender, told Thomas
Wilson 'Go, tell the constable that is your nigger'. Thomas came
running up crying, and told the constable I was his nigger. The
constable told him to take me and carry me on home or he would whip
both of us. We then hitched our ox to the cart and went home."

[TR: The editor indicated with lines that the following three
paragraphs should be moved to page 2 of this interview (page 318 of the
volume).]

"When I was a child I played marbles, 'Hail over', and bandy, a game
played like golf. In striking the ball we knocked it at each other.
Before we hit the ball we would cry, 'Shins, I cry', then we would
knock the ball at our playmates. Sometime we used rocks for balls.

"We got Christmas holidays from Christmas to New Years day. This was
also a time when slaves were hired out or sold. You were often put on
the auction block at Christmas. There was a whipping post, an auction
block, and jail located on Court House Square where the news stand is
now located on Fayetteville Street. There was a well in the yard.

"We were treated by doctors when sick. We were given lots of herbs.

"I do not believe in ghosts.

"I did not feel much elated over hearing I was free, I was afraid of
Yankee soldiers. Our mistress told us we were free. I farmed first year
after the war. We had no horses, the Yankees had taken the horses, and
some of us made a crap with grubbing hoes.

"I think Abraham Lincoln was a man who aimed to do good, but a man who
never got to it. I cannot say anymore than that his intentions were
good, and if he had lived he would have done more good."

[HW: ---- Insert from p. 6.]

N.C. District:      No. 2
Worker:             Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:          326
Subject:            Ex-slave recollections
Person Interviewed: Emma Stone
Editor:             Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 7 1937]

Ex-Slave Recollections

An interview with Emma Stone, 77 of Heck's-Town, Durham, Durham County.
May 21, 1937.

"My mammy wuz a Free Issue an' my pappy belonged ter de Bells in
Chatham County. Pappy wuz named Edmund Bell, mammy wuz named Polly
Mitchel. My sisters wuz Fanny, Jane, Ann, Josephine, Narcissus, and
Cressie. My brothers wuz Lizah, Hilliard an' another one, but I doan
'member his name.

"Yo' knows dat I doan 'member much, but I does know dat days on de
plantation wuz happy. When my mammy married pappy she moved ter de
Bell's plantation so we chilluns, long wid her, wuz lak de udder
slaves.

"De missus gib us her old hoop skirts ter play in an' we played nigh
'bout all de time. We wuz doin' dis when de Yankees comed by. Dey
drives dere hosses up ter de gate an' dey says dat dey is lookin' fer
Wheeler's Cavalry. We knows dat it done pass dar de day 'fore, but we
is too skeered ter say a thing.

"De Yankees stays 'round dar fer a little while, an' dey gathers
rations, den dey goes on atter Wheeler. We uster sing a song 'bout
Wheeler's Cavalry but I only 'members dat it went lak dis:

    "'Wheeler's Wheeler's Cav--al--ry,
    Marchin' on de battlefield
    Wheeler's Wheeler's Cav--al--ry
    Marchin' on de battlefield.'

"It wuz really a game we played, while we marched an' pranced an' beat
on tin pans. De missus ain't carin' case we is bein' true ter de south
she thinks. Shucks we doan care nothin' 'bout Wheeler 'cept what we
hyar, an dat ain't so good. We doan keer 'bout de Yankees nother, case
we is skeered of dem.

"I hyard grown folkses praisen' Lincoln but I doan know much 'bout him.
I doan know nothin' much 'bout none of it, but I does know dat it wuz
on a Sunday dat de picket wuz lookin' fer Wheeler an' dat we wuz
playin' hide an' seek."

N.C. District:      No. 2
Worker:             Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:          848
Subject:            WILLIAM SYKES
Person Interviewed: William Sykes
Editor:             Daisy Bailey Waitt

[Illustration: William Sykes]

WILLIAM SYKES

Ex-Slave Story

An interview with William Sykes 78, of State prison, Raleigh, N.C.

"My mammy Martha an' me we 'longed ter Mister Joshua Long in Martin
County, an' my paw, Henry 'longed ter Squire Ben Sykes in Tyrell
County. Squire Sykes lived in what wus called Gum Neck, an' he owned a
hundert slaves or more an' a whole passel of lan'.

"I lived wid my mammy in Martin County from de fust dat I could
'member, me an' my brothers, Henry, Benjamin an' Columbus, an' my
sisters Hester, Margaret, Lucy an' Susan.

"I doan 'member so much what happen 'fore de war, of course, but I does
'member a heap of little things. I knows dat Mister Long an' Mis'
Catherine wus good ter us an' I 'members dat de food an' de clothes wus
good an' dat dar wus a heap o' fun on holidays.

"Most o' de holidays wus celebrated by eatin' candy, drinkin' wine an
'brandy. Dar wus a heap o' dancin' ter de music of banjoes an' han'
slappin'.

"We had co'n shuckin's, an' prayer meetin's, an' sociables an'
singin's. I went swimmin' in de crick, went wid ole Joe Brown, a-possum
huntin', an' coon huntin', an' I sometimes went a-fishin'.

"When de Yankees comed dey come a tearin'. Dey ain't done so bad in our
neighborhood, case hit warn't so full of de 'infernal Rebs', as de
Yankees said. Dey tooked de bes' o' eber'thing do' but dey ain't doin'
so much deruction. Dey eben buyed terbacker from my mammy, an' dey paid
her a dollar an' fifty cents a pound, stim an' all.

"Dey paid her wid shin plasters, which wus green paper money, an' de
fust dat eber I seed.

"We slaves wus skeerd o' de Yankees, an' fer some reason I got sent ter
paw at Squire Sykes' house in Tyrell County.

"Squire Sykes come stompin' in one day an' he says ter my paw, 'Henry,
dem damm Yankees am comin' ter take my niggers 'way from me, an' I
ain't gwine ter stan' fer hit nother. Le's you an' me take dese niggers
an' march straight ter de Blue Ridge mountains, an' up dar in dem
mountains dar won't be no trouble, case dey won't dare come up dar
atter us.'

"Wal, we got on de march fer de mountains an' we march on ter Judge
Clayton Moore's grandfather's place in Mitchell County, whar we camps
fer seberal days.

"While we wus dar one day, an' while Mr. Jim Moore, de Jedge's daddy am
in town de missus axes my cousin Jane ter do de washin'.

"Jane says dat she has got ter do her own washin' an dat she'll wash
fer de missus termorrer. De missus says 'you ain't free yit, I wants
you ter know.'

"'I knows dat I's not but I is gwine ter be free', Jane says.

"De missus ain't said a word den, but late Sadday night Mr. Jim he
comes back from town an' she tells him 'bout hit.

"Mr. Jim am some mad an' he takes Jane out on Sunday mornin' an' he
beats her till de blood runs down her back.

"De patterollers wus thick dem days, Mr. Joe Jones wus our regular
patteroller an' he gibe us de very debil.

"A few days atter Jane got her beatin' we marches away. De wimen am
left at Jamesville but us mens an' boys, we marches on ter Buncombe
County an' we ain't seed no mo' Yankees.

"Atter de war my paw an' mammy went ter live on Mr. Moore's plantation
an' we had a hard time. A whole heap o' times I has had nothin' ter eat
but one cupful o' peas an' a hunk of co'nbread all day long. A white
lady, Mis' Douglas give me a quart of milk eber Sunday, but I had ter
walk three miles fer hit.

"We ain't wucked none in slavery days ter what we done atter de war,
an' I wisht dat de good ole slave days wus back.

"Dar's one thing, we ole niggers wus raised right an' de young niggers
ain't. Iffen I had my say-so dey'd burn down de nigger schools, gibe
dem pickanninies a good spankin' an' put 'em in de patch ter wuck,
ain't no nigger got no business wid no edgercation nohow.

"Yes'um, dey says dat I is a murderer". Uncle William stroked his long
white beard. "I runned from dis young nigger seberal times, an' I wus
tryin' ter run wid my knife what I had been whittlin' wid open in my
han'. I wus skeerd nigh ter death, so when he grabs me I throw up my
han's an' in a minute he falls. I breshes de blood offen my coat,
thinkin' dat he has hurt me, an' I sees de blood pourin' from de
jugular vein.

"I has sarved ten months o' my sentence which dey gived me, three ter
five years fer manslaughter; what could I do? I stood up an' I said,
'Thank you, Jedge.'"

L.E.

N.C. District:        No. 2
Worker:               Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:            503
Subject:              ANNIE TATE
Person Interviewed:   Annie Tate
Editor:               Daisy Bailey Waitt

ANNIE TATE Ex-Slave Story

An interview with Annie Tate 73 of 624 S. Harrington Street, Raleigh,
N.C.

"I wuz a year old when de war wuz ober but of course I ain't knowin'
nothin' 'bout slavery 'cept what my mammy said, an' dat ain't so much.

"I reckon dat it wuz a brother of Calvin Jones dat my mammy belonged
ter, anyhow, it wuz at Wake Forest. My mammy wuz Rosa Jones till she
married Phil Perry, my pappy.

"My mammy's mammy, who also belonged ter de Jones family killed herself
'cause dey sold her husban'. Mammy said dat she wuz eight or ten years
old at de time.

"Old marster wuz very fond of my grandpaw an' he wouldn't 'low de
oberseer ter beat him, but ole marster went off on a trip an' he left
young marster in charge of de big farm an' de whole slue o' slaves dat
he owns.

"One day atter ole marster wuz gone de oberseer tried ter run de hawg
over gran'paw an' wuz cussin' him scan'lous. Gran'paw cussed back at
him an' den de oberseer started ter beat him. Gran'paw drawed de hoe
back ober his haid an' tells him dat if'en he comes a step closter dat
he am gwine ter bust his haid open. De oberseer comes on an' de hoe
'cends on his haid choppin' hit wide open.

"Ole marster ain't dar so young marster makes seberal of de slaves hold
him while he lashes him wid de cowhide. He cuts his back all ter pieces
an' den he throws him in de barn, chained down ter de flo'.

"Gran'mammy snuke out ter see him an' whisper ter him through de
cracks, but one night she goes out dar ter de barn an' he am gone. She
runs ter young marster an' axes him whar am gran'paw an' he tells her
dat he am sold ter a man from Mississippi an' dat if'en she whimpers
'bout him sellin' de black bastard dat he will whup her, den wash her
down wid vinegar, red pepper an' salt.

"Pore gran'maw am nigh 'bout crazy so she walks off'en de plantation.
Down on de aidge of de plantation runs de Neuse so gran'maw gits dar,
an' jumps in.

"My mammy am little an' she ain't got no brothers an' sisters so de
missus takes her in de house wid her. Dey said dat de ole marster had a
fit most when he fin's out 'bout what been done dar while he am gone,
so he am extra good ter mammy.

"At de surrender he calls his niggers in an' he says dat he will give
'em permission ter libe on de riber plantation, dey can build deir
shacks dar an' live dar durin' dere life time. Some of dem does dis,
an' fer seberal years dey stays on dar. Mammy said dat he tol' de Ku
Kluxes ter stay off'en his lan' too, dat he could manage his own
niggers."

L.E.

N.C. District:     No. 2
Worker:            T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:         1258
Subject:           R.S. TAYLOR
Story teller:      R.S. Taylor
Editor:            Daisy Bailey Waitt

R.S. TAYLOR
710 South McDowell Street

"My name is Ransom Sidney Taylor. I was borned in slavery the 5th day
of January, 1857. Adam Taylor was my father and Mary Taylor my mother.
My brothers were: William H., Jesse, and Louis; sisters: Virginia,
Annie, and Isabella; all born in slavery. We all belonged to John Cane.
He owned a plantation on Ramkatte Road[5] near Yates Mill, between
Yates Mill and Penny's Mill. There was a whiskey still at Penny's Mill.

"There were sixty slaves in all, but Marster only kept seven on the
plantation with him at Yates Mill. Marster's sister Mary was our missus
after he died. He died before the surrender. The war was going on when
he died. He was a Northern man. His sister came down to the funeral
from New York and then went back, then she came back to settle up the
estate. She stayed here a long time then. She told all the slaves they
were free. That was about the close of the war.

"Marster John Cane was buried in the Catholic Graveyard in Raleigh. His
wife had died in the North, so my mother told me. We had plenty of
something to eat, beans, peas, butter milk and butter and molasses and
plenty o' flour.[6] We made the wheat on the plantation and other
things to eat. We didn't have clothes like they have now but we had
plenty o' good and warm wove clothes. Our shoes had wooden bottoms, but
were all right.

"We had prayer meetings on the plantation and at times we went to the
white folks' church. Marster was a Catholic, but we went to the
Methodist Church[7], Edenton Street Methodist Church. My marster would
not allow anyone to whip his Negroes. If they were to be whipped he did
it himself and the licks he gave them would not hurt a flea. He was
good to all of us and we all loved him.

"We called our parents pappy and mammy most o' the time. My marster
looked like you, jes' the same complection and about your size. He
weighed around 200 pounds had curly hair like yours and was almost
always smiling like you. My marster was an Irishman from the North.
Mother and father said he was one o' the best white men that ever
lived. I remember seein' him settin' on the porch in his large arm
chair. He called me 'Lonnie', a nickname. He called me a lot to brush
off his shoes. I loved him he was so good.

"Our overseer was named John H. Whitelaw. He got killed at the Rock
Quarry near the Federal Cemetery when they were carrying a boiler to
the Rock Quarry a long time after the surrender about 14 or 15 years
ago. He and John were standing on the side of the boiler and the boiler
turned over and killed both of 'em. Marster's overseer was bad to us
after marster died. Nothing we could do would suit him, and he whipped
the Negroes. We never heard the word Negroes until we moved to Raleigh
after the surrender. They called us niggers and colored folks.

"We were darin' to have a book to study. It was against the
Confederates' rules at dat time, but marster called us in to have
prayer meeting on Sunday mornings.

"I have seen patterollers. Dey had' em but not when my marster was
living. Dey didn't come around den, but when he died dey come around
every night; we never knowed when dey was comin', you know.

"I never saw a slave really whipped. Marster would switch a slave
sometime, but it was a matter o' nothing 'cause he didn't hurt much.

"We had good houses and plenty o' good places to sleep, and we fared
fine in slavery time. We called marster's house with its long porch the
'dwelling house'. When the Yankees came through they told us we were
free and we didn't have to work for the Johnnies no more.

"We got everything all right on the plantation near Yates Mill, then we
moved to Raleigh.

"My mammy belonged to old Captain Hunter before she was married to
pappy. When she got married the Taylors bought her, and she and pappy
stayed with the Taylors. As soon as we got the plantation fixed up, we
moved to Raleigh and mammy and pappy went back to her white folks, the
Hunters. My father was a carpenter by trade, and a preacher. He
preached at St. Paul's Church on the corner of Harrington and Edenton
Streets. We lived in Raleigh all our lives except Annie. She went to
Brooklyn, New York and died there about four years ago.

"I thinned corn, and turned potato vines, and helped look after and
feed the stock. Our marsters gave us some money, five and ten cents at
a time. That's the only way we got any money.

"We caught rabbits, hunting in the day time, and possums, hunting at
night. We hunted on holidays. We had holidays at lay-by time, and the
4th of July. When we caught up with the work we had nothing to do. We
got Christmas holidays.

"I never saw a slave sold and none never ran away. We went fishing in
Swift Creek. I never saw a jail for slaves and never saw any in chains.
We played push and spin on the plantation.

"My mother looked after most of us when we were sick. She used roots,
herbs, and grease, and medicine the overseer got in town. When my
mother got through rubbin' you, you would soon be well.

"When I first saw the Yankees I was afraid of 'em. It was a curiosity
to see 'em comin' through the fields with dem guns and things. They
come down and talked with us and told us we were free and then I was
not so scared of 'em.

"I married Francis [HW: corrected to Frances] Lipton in 1885. We were
married at the end of McDowell Street at Mr. Chester's home. Just a
quiet wedding with about 30 friends present. I didn't think a thing
about slavery while we fared mighty well; but it was bad on other
plantations.

"I don't know anything about Booker T. Washington, nor Jefferson Davis,
but I know Jim Young. He was a Negro politician. I do not know much
about Lincoln or Roosevelt.

"De[8] Yankees jes' shot hogs and cows and took everything on de
plantation dey wanted. I can see 'em now runnin' chickens. Dere was an
old rooster, he said, 'Cluck, cluck, cluck cluck,' as he run. Dey shot
his head off and he turned somersets awhile, and rolled over dead. Jes'
seemed lak if dem Yankees pointed a gun at a chicken or hog dey would
roll over dead. Dey had live geese tied on their hosses. One ole gander
would say, 'Quack, quack, quack,' as the hoss stepped along and jarred
him. Some o' de Yankee soldiers were carrying hams of hogs on deir
bayonets. Dat wus a time, Lawsy, Lawsy, a time. One ole hen, she had
sense. When de Yankees were killin' de res' o' de chickens she ran for
de piney woods and hid dere and stayed till de Yankees left Raleigh;
den she come home. Mammy caught her and raised about forty chickens off
her in Raleigh."

BN

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: [HW: Ramsgate Road--nicknamed Ramcat or Rhamkatte in
derision of Governor Tryon.]]

[Footnote 6: Yates Mill was a flour mill.]

[Footnote 7: [HW: St. Paul's A.M.E. Methodist Church moved to Edenton
St. site in 1853, formerly old Christ Church building.]]

[Footnote 8: The Negroes interviewed frequently speak fairly correctly
at first but when they begin to talk of old times lapse into dialect.]

N.C. District:       No. 2
Worker:              T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:           1177
Subject:             ELIAS THOMAS
Person Interviewed:  Elias Thomas
Editor:              G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 6 1937]

ELIAS THOMAS
84 years of age
521 Cannon Ave., Raleigh, N.C.

"I was here when the Civil war was goin' on an' I am 84 years old. I
was born in Chatham County on a plantation near Moncure, February 1853.

"My marster was named Baxter Thomas and missus was named Katie. She was
his wife. I don't know my father's name, but my mother was named
Phillis Thomas.

"It took a smart nigger to know who his father was in slavery time. I
just can remember my mother. I was about four or five years old when
she died.

"My marster's plantation was fust the 'Thomas Place'. There was about
two hundred acres in it with about one hundred acres cleared land. He
had six slaves on it.

"When I was eight years old he bought the Boylan place about two miles
from his first home and he moved there. There was about one thousand
acres of land of it all with about three hundred acres cleared for
farming. On the Thomas place his house had six rooms, on the Boylan
place the house had eight rooms. He brought in more slaves and took
over all the slaves after John Boylan died.

"John Boylan never married. He was a mighty hard man to git along with,
an' Marster Baxter Thomas was about the only one who could do anything
with him when he had one of his mad spells. They were no blood
relation but marster got possession of his property when he died. It
was fixed that way.

"We called the slave houses 'quarters'. They were arranged like streets
about two hundred yards on the northside of the great house.

"Our food was purty good. Our white folks used slaves, especially the
children, as they did themselves about eatin'. We all had the same kind
of food. All had plenty of clothes but only one pair of shoes a year.
People went barefooted a lot then more than they do now. We had good
places to sleep, straw mattresses and chickenfeather beds and feather
bolsters. A bolster reached clear across the head of the bed.

"We worked from sun to sun with one hour and a half to rest at noon or
dinner time. I was so small I did not do much heavy work. I chopped
corn and cotton mostly. The old slaves had patches they tended, and
sold what they made and had the money it brought. Everybody eat out of
the big garden, both white and black alike. Ole missus wouldn't allow
us to eat rabbits but she let us catch and eat possums. Missus didn't
have any use for a rabbit.

"Sometimes we caught fish with hooks in Haw River, Deep River, and the
Cape Fear, and when it was a dry time and the water got low we caught
fish in seines.

"My marster only had two children, both boys, Fred, and John. John was
about my age and Fred was about two years older. They are both dead.
My marster never had any overseers, he made boss men out of his oldest
slaves.

"We thought well of the poor white neighbors. We colored children took
them as regular playmates. Marster's boys played with 'em too and
marster gave them all the work he could. He hired both men an women of
the poor white class to work on the plantation. We all worked together.
We had a good time. We worked and sang together and everybody seemed
happy. In harvest time a lot of help was hired and such laughing,
working and singing. Just a good time in general. We sang the songs
'Crossin' over Jordan' and 'Bound for the Promised Land'.

"I never saw a jail for slaves but I have seen slaves whipped. I saw
Crayton Abernathy, a overseer, whip a woman in the cotton patch on Doc.
Smith's farm, a mile from our plantation. I also saw ole man William
Crump, a owner, whip a man and some children. He waited till Sunday
morning to whip his slaves. He would git ready to go to church, have
his horse hitched up to the buggy and then call his slaves out and whip
them before he left for church. He generally whipped about five
children every Sunday morning. Willis Crump, a slave was tied up by his
thumbs and whipped. His thumbs was in such a bad fix after that they
rose and had to be cut open. Willis was whipped after the war closed
for asking for his wages and having words with ole man Crump because he
would not pay him. They fell out and he called his friends in and they
took and tied him and whipped him.

"No books were allowed to slaves in slavery time. I never went to
school a minute in my life. I cannot read and write. We had
prayermeetings on the plantation about once or twice a week. We went to
the white folks church on Sunday. We went to both the Methodist and
Presbyterian. The preacher told us to obey our marsters. I remember the
baptizings. They baptized in Shattucks Creek and Haw River. I saw a lot
of colored folks baptized.

"I do not remember any slaves running away from our plantation but they
ran away from ole man Crump's and Richard Faucett's plantations near
our plantation. Jacob Faucette ran away from Faucette and Tom Crump ran
away from ole man Crump. They ran away to keep from getting a whippin'.

"Colored folks are afraid of bears so one of the slaves who saw Tom
Crump at night told him he saw a bear in the woods where he was
stayin'. Tom was so scared he came home next morning and took his
whippin'. Both came home on account of that bear business and both were
whipped.

"When we got sick Dr. Hews, Dr. Wych and Dr. Tom Buckhannan looked
after us. A lot of the slaves wore rabbit feet, the front feet, for
good luck. They also carried buckeyes.

"I remember the Yankees. I will remember seein' them till I die. I will
never forgit it. I thought it was the last of me. The white folks had
told me the Yankees would kill me or carry me off, so I thought when I
saw them coming it was the last of me. I hid in the woods while they
were there. They tore up some things but they did not do much damage.
They camped from Holly Springs to Avant's Ferry on Cape Fear River.
William Cross' plantation was about half the distance. The camp was
about thirty miles long. General Logan,[9] who was an old man, was in
charge.

"I married Martha Sears when I was 23 years old. I married in Raleigh.
My wife died in 1912. We had fourteen children, five are living now.

"When the war closed I stayed on eight years with my marster. I then
went to the N.C. State Hospital for the Insane. I stayed there 28
years. That's where I learned to talk like a white man."

LE

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 9: HW: Maj.-Gen. John A. Logan, Fifteenth Army Corps
(Union.)]

N.C. District:  2
Worker:         Mary Hicks
No. Words:      260
Subject:        MR. BELL'S PLANTATION
Reference:      Jacob Thomas
Editor:         George L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 6 1937]

MR. BELL'S PLANTATION

An interview with Jacob Thomas, 97 years of age, of 1300 South
Bloodworth Street, Raleigh, North Carolina.

"I wus borned in Elberton County, Georgia, on de plantation of Marse
Tom Bell. My mammy, Isobel, uster live in North Carolina, but she wus
sold from her husban' an' baby an' carried ter Marse Tom's place in
Georgia. Atter she got dar she wus married agin an' had me. Dat is I
reckin dat she wus married. I never did know my pappy.

"Mammy wus sold in Smithfield on de slave block an' carried off,
chained 'hind a wagin. She turn' roun' an' looks back at her husban'
who cries an' de oberseer's lash cuts his back, 'case dey ain't 'lowed
ter cry at a sale.

"From de time I can fust 'member I wucked on de farm. We planted cane,
cotton, corn, an' rice in de low groun's. We ain't had ter wuck so
powerful hard an' we am 'lowed a heap of pleasures, but some of us boys
wus mean an' we had ter be whupped, lak de time we tied tin cans on de
tail of Jinks, marster's fine huntin' dog. De dog near run hisself ter
death an' Marse Tom had us whupped fer hit.

"He raised fine hosses too, an' he ain't 'lowed us boys ter git clost
ter dem, but one Sunday when Uncle Amos went ter sleep in de shade of
de trees roun' de pasture I gits on Lady, one of de fines' young mares,
an' I flies away on her.

"She ain't used ter nobody ridin' her bareback so she kicks up quite a
rucus but I sets on. Down cross de pasture she goes an' I enjoys hit
fine till she steps in a hole an' falls.

"De mare am crippled but I leads her back an' tries ter git away widout
anybody seein' me. Ole Amos has woked up dis time an' of course he
tells Marse Tom.

"Dat's de wust whuppin' I'se eber had, I'se tellin' yo'. Dey streaked
me all ober den dey makes me lay down, chained han' an' foot all de day
long. Dat ain't done no good do 'case I rid dem hosses eber'time I got
de chance.

"I got married ter Pheobe de year dat de war begun. She wus a slim
little brown-skinned gal what look so puny dat yo' jist natu'ally wants
ter take care of her. I ain't courted her fer long 'case de marster
gives his permission 'fore I axes fer hit. We is married 'fore de
magistrate in June 'fore de war begun.

"Near 'bout at de start of de war I wus took ter Atlanta ter he'p buil'
de fort an' dar I stays till de Yankees comes a-rippin' an' a-tarin'.
Dey shoots de fort ter pieces an' den marches in an' hangs up de ole
Stars an' Stripes.

"We had four chilluns den Pheobe died an' lef' me. Atter dis I moves
ter Star, South Carolina, an' I marries Rebecca White who also died
five years ago an' so I comed ter live wid Roberta.

"I doan know whether slavery am better er not. Most of de niggers
claims dat all of de slaves wus good, but I knows better. I done a heap
of meanness. An' once atter I done so mean an' got a whuppin' I runned
away. Comes night an' I comes back home an' de nex' day I done
somethin' er other ter git another whuppin' fer.

"Dar's dis much we ain't worried 'bout livin' den lak we does now, an'
dar's dis much fer bein' free, I has got thirteen great-gran'chilluns
an' I knows whar dey everyone am. In slavery times dey'd have been on
de block long time ago.

"I always thought a lot of Lincoln 'cause he had a heap of faith in de
nigger ter think dat he could live on nothin' at all."

EH

N.C. District:       No. 2
Worker:              Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:           397
Subject:             MARGARET THORNTON
Person Interviewed:  Margaret Thornton
Editor:              G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: SEP 10 1937]

MARGARET THORNTON

An interview with Margaret Thornton, 77 years old, of Hayti, Four Oaks,
North Carolina.

"I wus borned an' raised on de plantation of Jake Thornton of Harnett
County. My mammy, Lula, my pappy, Frank, an' my brother an' sisters an'
me all wus dere slaves. De man I finally marries, Tom, am also a slave
on de plantation.

"I wus jist five years ole when de Yankees come, jist a few of dem to
our settlement. I doan know de number of de slaves, but I does 'member
dat dey herded us tergether an' make us sing a heap of songs an' dance,
den dey clap dere han's an' dey sez dat we is good. One black boy won't
dance, he sez, so dey puts him barefooted on a hot piece of tin an'
believe me he did dance.

"I know dat my white folks hated de Yankees like pizen but dey had ter
put up wid dere sass jist de same. Dey also had to put up wid de
stealin' of dere property what dey had made dere slaves work an' make.
De white folks didn't loose dere temper much do', an' dey avoids de
Yankees. Now when dey went protrudin' in de house dat am a different
matter entirely.

"I wus brung up ter nurse an' I'se did my share of dat, too honey, let
me tell you. I has nursed 'bout two thousand babies I reckins. I has
nursed gran'maws an' den dere gran' chiles. I reckin dat I has closed
as many eyes as de nex' one.

"Atter de war we stayed on, case Marse wus good ter us an' 'cided dat
we ain't got nowhar ter go. I stayed on till I wus thirteen or fourteen
an' den me an' Tom married. He had a job at a sawmill near Dunn, so dar
we went ter live in a new shanty.

"Tom never did want me ter work hard while he wus able ter work, but I
nursed babies off an' on all de time he lived. When he wus in his death
sickness he uster cry case I had ter take in washin'. Since he's daid I
nurses mostly, but sometimes I ain't able ter do nothin'. I hopes ter
git my pension pretty soon an' dat'll help a heap when I'm laid up, not
able ter turn my han' at nothin'."

LE

N.C. District:        No. II
Worker:               Mrs. W.N. Harriss
Words:                550
Edited:               Mrs. W.N. Harriss
Subject:              Tillie, Daughter of a Slave
Interviewed:          Tillie, Caretaker,
                      Cornwallis Headquarters, corner
                      Third and Market Sts, Wilmington.

TILLIE, DAUGHTER OF A SLAVE

Caretaker, Cornwallis Headquarters
Corner Third and Market Streets
Wilmington, N.C.

"La, Miss Fannie, what you mean askin' me what I knows about slavery!
Why I was bawn yeah's after freedom!" With a sweeping, upward wave of a
slender, shriveled brown arm to indicate the wide lapse of time between
her advent and the passing of those long ago days. The frail, little
body might have been any age between sixty and a hundred; but feminine
vanity rose in excited protest against the implication of age suggested
by the question.

Tillie is one of the landmarks of Wilmington. She was one of the
servants in the house of which she is now caretaker, at the time of the
owner's death, and the heirs have kept her on allowing her to live in
the old slave quarters in the back garden. She sits in the sun on the
coping of the brick wall, or across the street on the low wall of the
grounds around St. James Church. Children and their nurses gather there
on the lawn, and Tillie holds forth at length on any topic from
religion and politics to the cutting or losing of teeth. She makes the
bold statement that she can tell you something about everybody in
Wilmington. That is "eve'body _we_ knows." There is a general
uneasiness that perhaps she can. Little escapes the large, keen, brown
eyes, and the ears are perpetually cocked.

After several conversations in passing, memory was coaxed to the time
when as a _very_ young child she remembered incidents of slave times
which she had heard from her mother.

"My mother belonged to the Bellamys, an' lived on their plantation
across the river in Brunswick. It was the bigges' place anywhere
hereabouts. I was raised on it too. Of co'se it was in the country, but
it was so big we was a town all to ourselves.

"Did any of the colored people leave after freedom? Of co'se they
did'n'. Were'nt no place to go to. None of us was 'customed to anybody
but rich folks, an' of co'se their money was gone. I've heard Mis'
Bellamy tell how her child'en made enough out of potatoes to buy their
clo'es right on that plantation. So we all stayed right there. My
mother brought us all up right there on the plot she'd been livin' on
all the time. When I come along we had plenty to eat. She had a whole
pa'cel of us, and we always had plenty of collards, an' po'k an' corn
bread. Plenty of fish.

"O, yes, stuff was sold. I can remember timber bein' cut, an' our folks
got some wages to buy clo'es. We did'n have no school, but we had a
church. Soon as I was big enough I came to Wilmin'ton to work. I never
has lived with none but [TR: duplicate "but" crossed out] the bes'. My
mother always said 'Tillie, always tie to the bes' white folks. Them
that has inflooence, 'cause if you gits into trouble they can git you
out'. I've stuck to that. I've never had any traffic wid any but the
blue bloods, an' now look at me. I'm not able to work, but I got a home
an' plenty to eat. An' I ain't on no _relief_, an' Tillie can sho' hold
her head up."

N.C. District:      No. 2
Worker:             T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:          740
Subject:            ELLEN TRELL
Person Interviewed: Ellen Trell
Editor:             G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: SEP 10 1937]

ELLEN TRELL
Age 73

20 McKee St., Raleigh, North Carolina.

"Needham Price owned about fifty slaves, and mother an' I were among
that number. He was a very rich man, and owned a large plantation in
Wake County, N.C., near the town of Knightdale.

"My father belonged to Tom Bodie way down in Edgecombe County, and
mother and I went by the name of Bodie. My father's given name was
Haywood. Mother's name was Caroline. The fare was bad in regard to food
and clothing, but the slave quarters, though small and shanty-like in
appearance, were warm an' dry. The rules were strick and the privileges
few. Mother was whipped and scarred by the lash so bad the scars were
on her when she died. I have seen them many times.

"There were no books of any kind allowed the slaves and no social
gatherings tolerated. Slaves were allowed to go to the white folks
church and at times all slaves were carried to services at the church.
The preacher told them to obey their marsters and missuses, that the
Bible said obey.

"Marster lived in a large house with fourteen rooms, which the slaves
called the big house. He had four house servants to do his and missus
bidding. They were 'specially trained as Marster did a lot of
entertaining in slavery time. Marster and missus had a lot of parties
where they served a lot of good food and various kinds of liquors to
their guests. When marster was in his cups he was mighty rough, and any
of the slaves who displeased him at these times were liable to get a
beating.

"I have heard a lot of talk about ghosts and witches among the colored
folks. I have seen a few who had spells put on them by witches. My
mother had a spell put on her and she lay in bed talking to herself and
sweating draps of sweat as big as the end of my finger. She would groan
and say, 'go away evil spirit, go away,' but the spell would not leave
her until she went to a white witch-doctor and got cured.

"After the surrender father came up from Edgecombe County and he and
mother went and worked with Mr. Ruth Dunn of Wake County. They stayed
close, never going out of the county. Mother, after a year of [HW:
circle around "of"] two at Mr. Dunn's, began to think about goin' back
home. She was free and though her ole marster had treated her rough she
loved the missus and said she rather stay with marster Price than
anyone else. Father went to see Mr. Price. He told him to tell Caroline
to come on back home and that he shure better bring her back. Mother
said when she got back home they all had a general good time cooking,
eating, and laughing. Marster tole her he never wanted her to leave him
again. Mother said she was so full of gladness she could not reply so
she just stood there and cried. Marster walked off. Mother took charge
of the house and father jist about took possession of the farm. He
looked after the stock, all the farm tools, kept plenty of wood on the
wood pile all the year roun'.

"Father and mother carried the keys and acted like the place belonged
to them. They got most of the slaves who were agreeable to come back.
Marster gave them work and he loafed and prospered. Because he trusted
the Negroes so much they felt the responsibility put upon them, and
they worked for his interests.

"Mother and father stayed there until they died. I stayed with father
and mother until I married Badger Farrell then we stayed in a cabin on
the plantation several years. Most of my life was spent near
Knightdale, Wake County, until my husband died fifteen years ago. I had
eight children, four girls and four boys. They are all dead except one,
a boy, whom I have lived with in Raleigh since my husband died.

"I think slavery was a bad thing. This story is the things my mother
and father told me of slavery and my own observations since I became
old enough to remember the general happenings. Mother said the place
which had been a place of torture in slavery days turned out to be a
haven of rest after slavery, a home where peace, plenty and contentment
reigned supreme."

LE

N.C. District:      No. 2
Worker:             T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:          760
Subject:            HENRY JAMES TRENTHAM
Person Interviewed: Henry James Trentham
Editor:             G.L. Andrews

HENRY JAMES TRENTHAM
Raleigh, N.C. Rt. 2
Age 92 years

"I wus born de second day of December 1845. Dat would make me 92 years
of age. I wus born on a plantation near Camden, S.C. I belonged to Dr.
Trentham and my missus wus named Elizabeth. My father wus named James
Trentham and mother wus named Lorie. I had two brothers and one sister.
We all belonged to Dr. Trentham.

"Marster's plantation wus a awful big plantation with 'bout four
hundred slaves on it. It wus a short distance from the Wateree River.
The slave houses looked like a small town and dere wus grist mills for
corn, cotton gin, shoe shops, tanning yards, and lots of looms for
weavin' cloth. Most of de slaves cooked at dere own houses, dat dey
called shacks. Dey wus give a 'lowance of rations every week. De
rations wus tolerably good, jest bout like people eat now. Dere wus a
jail on de place for to put slaves in, an in de jail dere wus a place
to put your hands in called stocks. Slaves wus put dere for punishment.

"I seed lots of slaves whupped by de overseers. Marster had four
overseers on de place an' dey drove us from sunup till sunset. Some of
de women plowed barefooted most all de time, an' had to carry dat row
an' keep up wid de men, an' den do dere cookin' at night.

"We hated to see de sun rise in slavery time cause it meant anudder
hard day, but den we was glad to see it go down.

"Marster lived in a large two story house wid 'bout twelve rooms in it.
We called it de plantation house. Dere wus a church on de plantation
an' both white an' black went to preachin' dere. Dere wus Sunday School
dere too. De preacher tole us to obey our missus an' marster. He tole
us we must be obedient to 'em. Yes sir, dat's what he tole us. Some of
de slaves run away. When dey wus caught dey wus whupped and put in de
stocks in de jail. Some of de slaves dat run away never did come back.
De overseers tole us dey got killed reason dey never come back.

"De patterollers come round ever now an' den an' if you wus off de
plantation an' had no pass dey tore you up wid de lash.

"Marster an' missus rode around in a carriage drawn by two horses and
driven by a driver. Dey had four women to work in de house as cooks,
maids, an' de like.

"No huntin' wus allowed a slave if no white man wus wid 'im, an' dey
wus not allowed to carry guns.

"De corn shuckin's was a great time. Marster give good licker to
everybody den. When anybody shucked a red ear he got a extra drink of
whiskey. We had big suppers den an' a good time at corn shuckin's.
Atter de shuckin' at nite [HW: night] dere would be a wrastlin' match
to see who was bes' on de plantation. We got a week holliday at Xmas.
Den wus de time shoes wus give to de slaves, an' de good times
generally lasted a week. At lay-by time wus another big time. Dat wus
'bout de Fourth of July. Dey give a big dinner an' everbody et all de
barbecue an' cake dey wanted.

"I saw slaves sold at Camden. Marster carried some slaves dere an' put
'em on de auction block an' sold 'em. I wus carried but I wus not sold.
I went with the old doctor. I wus his pet. Dey carried slaves away from
de plantation in chains. Dey carried five or six at a time. If a nigger
didn't suit him he sold him.

"Missus didn't like for him to beat 'em so much no how. De old doctor
had three boys, William, Sidney and Henry and two girls, Missie and
Carrie.

"Dey would not allow slaves no books an' I can't read an' write. I did
not git any learnin.

"When a slave died dere wus only a few to go to de buryin. Dey didn't
have time to go, dey wus so busy workin'. De slaves wus burried in
plain wood boxes which wus made by slave men on de plantation. Our
marster looked atter us when we got sick.

"I married Ella Davis 31 years ago in South Carolina, near Camden. We
had twelve chilluns, six boys and six girls.

"Slavery wus pretty rough and I am glad it is all over."

N.C. District:      No. 2
Worker:             T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:          631
Subject:            JANE ANNE PRIVETTE UPPERMAN
Person Interviewed: Jane Anne Privette Upperman
Editor:             G.L. Andrews

[TR: Date stamp: AUG 4 1937]

JANE ANN PRIVETTE UPPERMAN
74 years old, of 330 West South Street.

"I wusn't livin in Raleigh when my mother wus freed from slavery. We
wus livin' in Nash County right near the border of Wake County. We
belonged to Shirley Brantly. Our missus wus named Penina.

"I wus born a slave, but I wus only 'bout two years old at de time of
de surrender. I am 74 now. I wus born in April. I had my age in a
Bible, but de book got tore to pieces an' my age got lost.

"We lived on Marster Brantly's plantation an' de slave quarters wus
near de great house. Mother said she wurked in de fiel's from sun to
sun. Dey did not eat breakfast in de mornin' fore dey went to wurk. It
wus cooked an' put on a shelf an' dey had breakfas' at about eleven
o'clock in de day. Mother said sometimes de flies got to de meat an'
blowed it fore dey could come in to eat it. Mother said de food wus bad
an' not fixed right.

"Dere wus a lot of de slaves divided among marsters chillun. I can't
remember how many.

"Marster wus a soldier an' when he come an' tole mother she wus free,
Missus Penina tole her, 'No, you aint free, you'se got to stay here an'
wurk right on.' Marster tole her if she had been through wid what he
been through wid she could give mother up as free as takin' a drink of
water.

"When de war ended father come an' got ma an' took her on to his
marsters plantation. My father wus named Carroll Privette an' my mother
wus Cherry Brantly, but after she wus free she begun to call herself by
my fathers name, Privette. Father belonged to Jimmie Privette across
Tar River from whar ma lived. He lived near a little place named
Cascade. We lived there at father's marster's place till most of de
chillun wus 'bout grown, den father bought a place in Franklin County
from Mr. Jack Griffin. He stayed there long enough to pay for de place;
den he sold it an' we moved to Clayton.

"At this time all de older chillun wus married, an' dats what
dissatisfied my father. He had nobody to help him wurk. Arch, Frank,
an' Dennis wus married. Mary wus married. Two girls an' one boy wus
lef' single. Dere wus seben of de chillun. We moved from Clayton to
Raleigh. I wus married in Raleigh. I married William Upperman.

"Mother an' faather died in Raleigh. Mother died right here in dis
house. My mother an' father couldn't do no writin', but father could
read a little. He could read hymns an' de Bible.

"I aint remember nothin' 'bout slavery 'ceptin' what I've heard 'em
say. Some said dey had a good time an' liked slavery. Dat wus when dey
had good marsters. Den some says dey had a hard time an' didn't like
it. Dat wus when dey had bad marsters. Slavery wus good an' bad
accordin' to de kind of marster you had.

"My husban' died September 6, 1925. I am unable to wurk. I've had a
stroke on one side. I'se jest hangin' 'round home.

"My daughter wurks for de WPA an' supports me but now she has been laid
off. My chillun, some of 'em live in Harlem, New York, but dey has to
have so much to live on dey can't help me. Dey sends me a Christmas
present most of de time, an' dey remembers me on mother's day sometime.

"I aint signed up wid any of de places to get money yet. Don't see what
I is goin' to do. I aint got 'nough money to pay bus fare to de
registerin' place other side of town."

LE

N.C. District:      No. 2
Worker:             Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:          901
Subject:            EX-SLAVE STORIES
Person Interviewed: Ophelia Whitley
Editor:             Daisy Bailey Waitt

EX-SLAVE STORIES

An Interview by Mary A. Hicks with Ophelia Whitley of Zebulon, (Wake
Co.) N.C. May 12, 1937.

"I wuz borned at Wakefield in 1841, here in Wake County. My mammy wuz
named Eliza an' my pappy wuz named Thomas. Dar wuz eleben uv us
chilluns, Frances, Sally Ann, Jane, Pattie, Louisa, Alice, Firginia,
Sam, Haywood, Boobie and me. We belonged to Mr. Agustus Foster an' he
wuz right good to us even do' he had a hundred or so other slaves.

"I 'members one whuppin' I got when I wuz little 'bout a big matter dat
looked little at de time. Mens would come by in kivered wagons, (we
called dem speckled wagons) an' steal Marse Gus' nigger chilluns. He
had lost a heap of money dat way, so he forbids us of goin' out ter de
road an' he orders us ter stay 'way back in de rear uv de house. One
day we sees a drove uv dese wagons comin' an' we flies down ter de
road. De marster ketches us an' I flies, but he hobbles ter our cabin
on his crutches an' he pinches me, pokes me wid de crutch an' slaps my
face.

"His son Billy wuz de overseer an' he wuz good ter git along wid, but
he shore made dem darkies wuck. De wimmen plowed an' grubbed, an' I'se
known dem ter leave de field, go ter de house an' find a baby an' be
back at wuck de next day. Dat ain't happen often do', mostly dey done
light wuck fer a week or so. De babies wuz carried to Ant Hannah's
house an' she raised 'em all so's dat de other wimmen could wuck. De
mammies ain't even 'member which wuz dere chilluns half de time, so dar
wuz no mo'nin' when somebody got sold.

"I 'members a slave sale an' hyarin' de marster tell Cindy an' Bruce
ter act up fer de benefit of de buyers. Cindy said dat she could do
ever'thing, so she brung a good price, but Bruce, atter sayin' dat he
could do it all, wuz tole ter hitch up a hoss in a hurry. He got de
hoss an' turned his head ter de spatter board an' tried to hook de hoss
up hind part befo'. De marster can't find no buyer, so he whups Bruce
awful atter he gits him home, but dat black boy says, 'Marse, Yo' can
kill me, but I'd ruther stay on hyar.' I'se seed niggers in chains, but
dey wuz travelin', or wuz mighty bad niggers.

"We had log cabins to live in an' dey wuz comfortable but we ain't had
much jubilees, de marster not believin' in such things. We warn't
teached nothin', not even religion an' we got whupped if we wuz ketched
wid a piece uv paper or a slate. De white folks warn't teached nothin'
den, an' you know dey won't gwine ter take no trouble wid de niggers.
De niggers had a doctor do' when dey got sick same as de white folks,
an' dey got a lot of spring tonic an' such, made out of barks an'
roots.

"When de slaves got married dey done it dis way: de marster hilt a
broom an' dey solemnly steps over it twict den dey kissed an' dey wuz
married, 'course dar wuz something dat de marster said, but I done
forgot whut it wuz.

"When we hyard dat de Yankees wuz comin' some of de niggers went fer de
woods an' stayed till atter de surrender, but most uv us stayed on an'
wucked jist de same.

"My marstar made his own brandy an' whiskey an' when de Yankees come he
wuz a rich man. His smoke house wuz ful o' hams an' he hid 'em in de
ceilin' of my mammy's shack, an' he buried dem barrels of brandy, but
de Yankees done found it all an' dey ain't left nothin'.

"I 'members how some of dem Yankee officers cussed in front of my
mussus an' how I tole' em dat dey mought be Yankees but dey won't half
raised at dat.

"Atter de surrender my marster had ter make de slaves leave, but he
moved my papy's cabin furder an' we jist stayed on same as always till
he died. I 'members moughty well when my mammy an' papy got married
case I seed it two years atter de surrender.

"Dar wuz two witches lived in our neighborhood. Dey wuz sisters named
Miss Quinnie an' Miss Tilda an' I'se seed dem brewin' coffee a many a
time an' pourin' it out in a long neck goard. Dey done a powerful lot
of things which I can't recollect right dis minute, anyhow dey wuz
witches.

"I uster see ghosts on dis very road nigh 'bout ever' night. Dey wuz
white an' spongy lookin' an' dey set under de bushes an' holler an'
holler an' holler. I'se poured water on 'em many a time but it ain't
done no good.

"Do you know chile, slavery wuz a good thing, but folks has improved a
lot since den, an' de Yankees warn't half as good ter us as our ole
marster an missus wuz, even if'n dey did put a stop ter de Ku Klux Klan
beatin' sorry niggers dat had ort ter be hung."

MH/LE

N.C. District:  No. 2
Worker:         Mary A. Hicks
No. Words:      614
Subject:        EX-SLAVE STORY
Story teller:   Tom Wilcox
Editor:         Daisy Bailey Waitt

[TR: Date stamp: JUN 1 1937]

[HW: Has two songs
beaten because worked on Sun.]

EX-SLAVE STORY [HW: 81 years]

An Interview on May 19, 1937, with Tom Wilcox of Method.

"I wuz borned on March 18th, 1856 durin' de biggest snow dat eber hit
Eastern Carolina; dey says dat hit wuz up ter de roof. De place whar I
wuz borned wuz in Warren County; jist acrost de Halifax County line. My
mammy's marster wuz Mr. B. Osco Harris an' his wife wuz named Martha.

"My mammy's name wuz Alice an' my pappie's name wuz Camelin. I had
three brothers, Little Berry, Cornelius James, an' C.J. Dar wuz four
gals, Anne, Pattie, Pennie, an' Mary Frances.

"De white folks wuz good ter us an' we loved 'em, but we wanted ter be
free, case de Lawd done make us all free.

"My missus wuz a religious woman an' I can't tell yo' de number uv
times she has beat me case I done some kind uv wuck on a Sunday. We
went ter church ever Sunday an' we wusn't 'lowed ter cuss an' sich
things.

"I wuz nine when de war commence. Durin' de war an' I wuz workin' in de
fiel', long wid de fifty or sixty other slaves. Dar wuzn't nary a
Yankee track made in our section, an' we ain't knowed much 'bout de
war.

"As I done tell yo' onct we wuz fed an' clothed good an' we lived fer
each other, but my pappy belonged ter one man an' my mammy ter another
one an' so we wanted ter be all together. Atter de war we stayed on
till '69, den we come ter Raleigh. Most uv de wimmens an' chilluns wuz
sent by de train, but me an' pappy an' Berry, we walked all de way by
Louisburg, an' driv' pappy's thirteen heads of cattle.

"In 1871 we buyed ten acres uv lan' at Method fer three dollars a' acre
an' moved out hyar.

"No mam, we ain't liked Jeff Davis, but we did like Mr. Lincoln. I
'members a verse uv a song dat we sung durin' de first uv de war. It
goes dis way.

    "'Jeff Davis is a rich man,
    Lincoln is a fool,
    Davis rides a big fat horse,
    Lincoln rides a mule.
    Knick knack dey say
    Walk ole Georgia row.'

"Dar wuz another song I 'members but I can't think uv no games, case we
ain't neber played none. Yo' has hyard dat atter a dog gits so full uv
fleas he can't tote no mo'. Well, dat's de way I is. I peddles my
peanuts, but I barely makes a livin'.

"Hyar's de song do' de best I 'members it an' it wuz sung atter de war.

    "'Ole Confederate has done played out,
      Shrew ball, shrew ball,
    Ole Confederate has done played out
      Shrew ball say I,
    An' ole Gen'l. Lee can't fight no mo';
    We'll all drink stone blind
    Johnnies go marchin' home.

    "'I bought me a chicken fur fifty cents,
      Shrew ball, Shrew ball,
    I bought me a chicken fur fifty cents
      Shrew ball say I,
    I bought me a chicken fur fifty cents
    An' de son uv a bitch done jump de fence,
    We'll all drink stone blind
    Johnnies go marchin' home.

    "'Eighteen hundret an' sixty one
      Shrew ball, shrew ball,
    Eighteen hundret an' sixty one
      Shrew ball say I,
    Eighteen hundret an' sixty one
    An' dat's de year de war begun
    We'll all drink stone blind
    Johnnies go marchin' home.

    "'Eighteen hundret an' sixty-five
      Shrew ball, Shrew ball,
    Eighteen hundret an' sixty-five
      Shrew ball say I,
    Eighteen hundret an' sixty-five
    De Yankees et ole Lee alive;
    We'll all drink stone blind
    Johnnies go marchin' home.'"

N.C. District:      No. 2
Worker:             T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:          723
Subject:            CATHARINE WILLIAMS
Person Interviewed: Catherine Williams
Editor:             Daisy Bailey Waitt

CATHARINE WILLIAMS
2214 Barker Street

"My name is Catharine Williams. I was born December twenty fifth, 1851.
I remember my mother, but I do not know anything about my father. My
mother's name was Adeline Williams. Mother baked ash cakes, but my
children would not eat 'em. She died fifty years ago. I had four
children when she died, but I had three boys and two girls. I was born
in Virginia but I cannot tell what part. I was four years old when my
mother brought me to North Carolina. Our old master, Dabney Cosby,[10]
moved from Virginia to North Carolina then. We came straight into
Raleigh, North Carolina and have been living in Raleigh ever since.

"We were Williams when owned by Cosby and we were never sold again, but
remained in the same family till we were set free after the surrender.
We had good food, fair clothing and comfortable sleeping places. I know
what a pallet is. All slep' on 'em a lot in slavery days, especially
when it was hot weather. I makes 'em now sometimes.

"My missus wus named Fannie. I do not know how many slaves they owned,
but Marster did not have a plantation, he lived in town. He was a brick
mason, and he made brick. He had two brick kilns.

"Our missus and marster were kind to us but they did not teach us to
read and write. I learned to read and write since the surrender. I went
to church and Sunday school. There were no Negro preachers, but we
attended the white folks's church. We did not have any prayer meetings
because our homes were in the white folks's yard.

"I was never whupped, and mother and myself were well treated, so I
have no complaint to make against our white folks.

"The first work I done was nursing the children in the home, next I
waited on the table, then general house [HW: work].

"At the last days of the war Wheeler's Calvary camped around my house
at night. They tole us the Yankees would be in Raleigh the next morning
and shore 'nough they came in next morning. If the citizens had not
gone out and surrendered Raleigh to the Yankees they would have torn
Raleigh to pieces. We were living on the corner of Hargett and Dawson
Streets. The Yankees done us no harm. They done all right in Raleigh.
They did not take nothing around home. They put out guards around the
homes by the time they got in. We were not afraid of 'em, none of us
children, neither white nor colored; they played such purty music and
was dressed so fine. We run after the band to hear 'em play.

"I heard talk of the patterollers, but never saw any. I knew very
little about the jail in Raleigh for slaves. I never saw any slaves
sold or any in chains. I never knew of any slaves running away to the
North. We children both white and colored enjoyed the Christmas
holidays together. We played running and jumping and hide and seek.

"We had doctors when we got sick. Dr. Johnson was one of them. After
the war we stayed on with Marster and Missus until they died. I have
been on Oberlin Road about twenty-five years.

"No Sir, what you talkin' 'bout? No, there were no Negro schools in
Raleigh at the time of the surrender, but I have had a good time all my
life as far as bein' treated right is concerned.

"I have never married. I will have to find that man yet, and at this
age I don't expect to find him. Ha! ha! never found that man yet. I am
staying with my niece.

"I know nothing about Abraham Lincoln. He helped us to be free. I knew
nothing about Jefferson Davis, Booker T. Washington or Roosevelt. I
know very little about Jim Young, only he was a polititian."

LE

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 10: Dabney Cosby, a practical architect and contractor, came
to Raleigh from Halifax County, Virginia, and did a good deal of
building in the city between 1850 and 1860. The original Yarborough
House (1852) was built by him. The Heart house, corner Hargett and
Dawson Streets, Cosby's home, and another stucco house, corner Hargett
and Harrington Streets are still standing in the locality mentioned in
the story.]

N.C. District:      No. 2
Worker:             T. Pat Matthews
No. Words:          755
Subject:            REV. HANDY WILLIAMS
Person Interviewed: Rev. Handy Williams
Editor:             Daisy Bailey Waitt

REV. HANDY WILLIAMS
Dunn, North Carolina.

"My name is Handy H. Williams. When de war went up I wus twelve years
old, 12th of March. I belonged to Blaney Williams, and his wife wus
named Polly. My mother wus named Margaret Williams, and my father wus
named Sam Williams. I do not remember my grandmother and grandfather;
can't remember 'em.

"My father lived in Greene County. De plantation wus in Greene County.
Dere were about 190 acres in de farm and dere wus about 25 slaves on
it.

"We lived in Greene County till the war went up. We had plenty to eat,