MATTIE HARDMAN
Age 78 yrs. Oklahoma City, Okla.
I was born January 2, 1859, at Gunalis, Texas. My father's name was William Tensley and my mother's name Mildred
Howard. They was brought from Virginia. I did have 8 brothers and sisters but all of them are dead.
My Master was name William Henry Howard. Since I was too young to work I nursed my sisters' children while they
worked. The cooking was done all up to the general kitchen at Masters house and when slaves come from work they
would send their children up to the kitchen to bring their meals to their homes in the quarters. Our Mistress would
have one of the cooks to dish up vegetables and she herself would slice or serve the meat to see that it wasn't
wasted, as seemingly it was thought so precious.
As my mother worked 'round the Big House quite a deal I would go up to the Big House with her and play with the
white children who seemed to like for me to come to play with them. One day in anger while playing I called one
of the white girls, "old black dog" and they pretended they would tell their mother (my Mistress) about
it. I was scared, as they saw, and they promised me they would not tell if I'd promise to not do it again, and
which I was so glad to do and be let off so lightly.
For summer I wore a cotton slip and for winter my mother knitted at nights after her days work was done so I wore
red flannels for underwear and thick linsey for an over-dress, and had knitted stockings and bought shoes. As my
Master was a doctor he made his slaves wear suitable clothes in accordance to the weather. We also wore gloves
my mother knitted in winter.
My Mistress was good to all of the slaves. On Sunday morning she would make all the Negro children come to the
Big House and she would stand on the front steps and read the Catechism to us who sat or stood in front on the
ground.
My Master was also good. On Wednesdays and Friday nights he would make the slaves come up to the Big House and
he would read the Bible to them and he would pray. He was a doctor and very fractious and exact. He didn't allow
the slaves to claim they forgot to do thus and so nor did he allow them to make the expression, "I thought
so and so." He would say to them if they did: "Who told you, you could think!"
They had 10 children, 7 boys and 3 girls. Their house was a large 2-story log house painted white. My father was
overseer on the plantation.
The plantation consisted of 400 acres and about 40 slaves including children. The slaves were so seldom punished
until they never'd worry about being punished. They treated their slaves as though they loved them. The poor white
neighbors were also good and treated the slaves good, for my Master would warn them to not bother his Negroes.
My Mistress always told the slaves she wanted all of them to visit her and come to her funeral and burial when
she died and named the men slaves she wanted to be her pallbearers, all of which was carried out as she planned
even though it was after freedom.
The slaves even who lived adjoining our plantation would have church at our Big House. They would hold church on
Sundays and Sunday nights.
As my mother worked a deal for her Mistress she had an inkling or overheard that they was going to be set free
long before the day they were. She called all the slaves on the plantation together and broke to them this news
after they had promised her they would not spread the news so that it would get back to our Master. So, everybody
kept the news until Saturday night June 19th, when Master called all the slaves to the big gate and told them they
were all free, but could stay right on in their homes if they had no places to go and which all of them did. They
went right out and gathered the crop just like they'd always done, and some of them remained there several years.
My first husband was name, S. W. Warnley. We had 4 children, 1 girl and three boys and 3 grandchildren. I now have
two grandchildren.
Now that slavery is over I sometime wish 'twas still existing for some of our lazy folks, so that so many of them
wouldn't or couldn't loaf around so much lowering our race, walking the streets day by day and running from house
to house living corruptible lives which is keeping the race down as though there be no good ones among us.
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]
ANNIE HAWKINS
Age 90 Colbert, Okla
I calls myself 90, but I don't know jest how old I really am but I was a good sized gal when we moved from Georgia
to Texas. We come on a big boat and one night the stars fell. Talk about being scared! We all run and hid and hollered
and prayed. We thought the end of the world had come.
I never had no whitefolks that was good to me. We all worked jest like dogs and had about half enough to eat and
got whupped for everything. Our days was a constant misery to us. I know lots of niggers that was slaves had a
good time but we never did. Seems hard that I can't say anything good for any of 'em but I sho' can't. When I was
small my job was to tote cool water to the field to the hands. It kept me busy going back and forth and I had to
be sho' my old Mistress had a cool drink when she wanted it, too. Mother and my sister and me worked in the field
all day and come in time to clear away the things and cook supper. When we was through in the kitchen we would
spin fer a long time. Mother would spin and we would card.
My old Master was Dave Giles, the meanest man that ever lived. He didn't have many slaves, my mammy, and me, and
my sister, Uncle Bill, and Truman. He had owned my grandma but he give her a bad whupping and she never did git
over it and died. We all done as much work as a dozen niggers--we knowed we had to.
I seen old Master git mad at Truman and he buckled him down across a barrel and whupped him till he cut the blood
out of him and then he rubbed salt and pepper in the raw places. It looked like Truman would die it hurt so bad.
I know that don't sound reasonable that a white man in a Christian community would do such a thing but you can't
realize how heartless he was. People didn't know about it and we dassent tell for we knowed he'd kill us if we
did. You must remember he owned us body and soul and they wasn't anything we could do about it. Old Mistress and
her three girls was mean to us too.
One time me and my sister was spinning and old Mistress went to the well-house and she found a chicken snake and
killed it. She brought it back and she throwed it around my sister's neck. She jest laughed and laughed about it.
She thought it was a big joke.
Old Master stayed drunk all the time. I reckon that is the reason he was so fetched mean. My, how we hated him!
He finally killed hisself drinking and I remember Old Mistress called us in to look at him in his coffin. We all
marched by him slow like and I jest happened to look up and caught my sister's eye and we both jest natchelly laughed--Why
shouldn't we? We was glad he was dead. It's a good thing we had our laugh fer old Mistress took us out and whupped
us with a broomstick. She didn't make us sorry though.
Old Master and Mistress lived in a nice big house on top of a hill and us darkies lived in log cabins with log
floors. Our dresses was made out of coarse cloth like cotton sacking and and [TR: sic] it sho' lasted a long time.
It ort to been called mule-hide for it was about that tough.
We went to church sometimes. They had to let us do that or folks would have found out how mean they was to us.
Old Master'd give us a pass to show the patroller. We was glad to git the chance to git away and we always went
to church.
During the War we seen lots of soldiers. Some of them was Yankees and some were Sesesh soldiers. My job every day
was to take a big tray of food and set it on a stump about a quarter of a mile from our house. I done this twice
a day and ever time I went back the dishes would be empty. I never did see nobody and didn't nobody tell me why
I was to take the food up there but of course it was either for soliders [TR: sic] that was scouting 'round or
it may been for some lowdown dirty bushwhacker, and again it might a been for some of old Master's folks scouting
'round to keep out of the army.
We was the happiest folks in the world when we knowed we was free. We couldn't realize it at first but how we did
shout and cry for joy when we did realize it. We was afraid to leave the place at first for fear old Mistress would
bring us back or the pateroller would git us. Old Mistress died soon after the War and we didn't care either. She
didn't never do nothing to make us love her. We was jest as glad as when old Master died. I don't know what become
of the three gals. They was about grown.
We moved away jest as far away as we could and I married soon after. My husband died and I married again. I been
married four times and all my husbands died. The last time I married it was to a man that belonged to a Indian
man, Sam Love. He was a good owner and was one of the best men that ever lived. My husband never did move far away
from him and he loved him like a father. He always looked after him till he died. My husband has been dead five
years.
I have had fifteen children. Four pairs of twins, and only four of them are living. The good Lawd wouldn't let
me keep them. I'se lived through three wars so you see I'se no baby.
[Date stamp: NOV 5 1937]
IDA HENRY
Age 83 Oklahoma City, Okla.
I was born in Marshall, Texas, in 1854. Me mother was named Millie Henderson and me father Silas Hall. Me mother
was sold in South Carolina to Mister Hall, who brought her to Texas. Me father was born and raised by Master John
Hall. Me mother's and father's family consisted of five girls and one boy. My sisters' names were: Margrette, Chalette,
Lottie, Gracy and Loyo, and me brother's name was Dock Howard. I lived with me mother and father in a log house
on Master Hall's plantation. We would be sorry when dark, as de patrollers would walk through de quarters and homes
of de slaves all times of night wid pine torch lights to whip de niggers found away from deir home.
At nights when me mother would slip away for a visit to some of de neighbors homes, she would raise up the old
plank floor to de log cabin and make pallets on de ground and put us to bed and put the floor back down so dat
we couldn't be seen or found by the patrollers on their stroll around at nights.
My grandmother Lottie would always tell us to not let Master catch you in a lie, and to always tell him de truth.
I was a house girl to me Mistress and nursed, cooked, and carried de children to and from school. In summer we
girls wore cotton slips and yarn dresses for winter. When I got married I was dress in blue serge and was de third
person to marry in it. Wedding dresses was not worn after de wedding in dem days by niggers as we was taught by
our Mistress dat it was bad luck to wear de wedding dress after marriage. Therefore, 'twas handed down from one
generation to the other one.
Me Mistress was sometimes good and sometimes mean. One day de cook was waiting de table and when passing around
de potatoes, old Mistress felt of one and as hit wasn't soft done, she exclaimed to de cook, "What you bring
these raw potatoes out here for?" and grab a fork and stuck it in her eye and put hit out. She, de cook, lived
about 10 years and died.
Me Mistress was de mother of five children, Crock, Jim, Boss and two girls name, Lea and Annie.
Dere home was a large two-story white house wid de large white posts.
As me Master went to de War de old overseer tried himself in meanness over de slaves as seemingly he tried to be
important. One day de slaves caught him and one held him whilst another knocked him in de head and killed him.
Master's plantation was about 300 acres and he had 'bout 160 slaves. Before de slaves killed our overseer, he would
work 'em night and day. De slaves was punished when dey didn't do as much work as de overseer wanted 'em to do.
He would lock 'em in jail some nights without food and kept 'em dere all night, and after whipping 'em de next
morning would only give 'em bread and water to work on till noon.
When a slave was hard to catch for punishment dey would make 'em wear ball and chains. De ball was 'bout de size
of de head and made of lead.
On Sunday mornings before breakfast our Mistress would call us together, read de Bible and show us pictures of
de Devil in de Bible and tell us dat if we was not good and if we would steal and tell lies dat old Satan would
git us.
Close to our Master's plantation lived several families of old "poor white trash" who would steal me
Master's hogs and chickens and come and tell me Mistress dat dey seen some of de slaves knock one of dere hogs
in de head. Dis continued up till Master returned from de War and caught de old white trash stealing his hogs.
De niggers did at times steal Master's hogs and chickens, and I would put biscuits and pieces of chicken in a sack
under me dress dat hung from me waist, as I waited de table for me Mistress, and later would slip off and eat it
as dey never gave de slaves none of dis sort of food.
We had church Sundays and our preacher Rev. Pat Williams would preach and our Master and family and other nearby
white neighbors would ofttime attend our services. De patrollers wouldn't allow de slaves to hold night services,
and one night dey caught me mother out praying. Dey stripped her naked and tied her hands together and wid a rope
tied to de hand cuffs and threw one end of de rope over a limb and tied de other end to de pommel of a saddle on
a horse. As me mother weighed 'bout 200, dey pulled her up so dat her toes could barely touch de ground and whipped
her. Dat same night she ran away and stayed over a day and returned.
During de fall months dey would have corn shucking and cotton pickings and would give a prize to de one who would
pick de highest amount of cotton or shuck de largest pile of corn. De prize would usually be a suit of clothes
or something to wear and which would be given at some later date.
We could only have dances during holidays, but dances was held on other plantations. One night a traveler visiting
me Master and wanted his boots shined. So Master gave de boots to one of de slaves to shine and de slave put de
boots on and went to a dance and danced so much dat his feet swelled so dat when he returned he could not pull
'em off.
De next morning as de slave did not show up with de boots dey went to look for him and found him lying down trying
to pull de boots off. He told his Master dat he had put de boots on to shine 'em and could not pull 'em off. So
Master had to go to town and buy de traveler another pair of boots. Before he could run away de slave was beaten
wid 500 lashes.
De War dat brought our freedom lasted about two years. Me Master went and carried one of de slaves for a servant.
He was kind and good and from dat day on he never whipped another slave nor did he allow any of his slaves whipped.
Dis time lasted from January to June de 19th when we was set free in de State of Texas.
Lincoln and Davis both died short of promise. I means dat dey both died before dey carried out dere plans and promises
for freeing de slaves.
MORRIS HILLYER
Age 84 yrs. Alderson, Okla.
My father was Gabe Hillyer and my mother was Clarisay Hillyer, and our home was in Rome, Georgia. Our owner was
Judge Hillyer. He was de last United States senator to Washington, D. C., before de War.
My mother died when I was only a few days old and the only mother I ever knew was Judge Hillyer's wife, Miss Jane.
Her nine children were all older than I was and when mother died Miss Jane said mother had raised her children
and she would raise hers. So she took us into her house and we never lived at de quarters any more. I had two sisters,
Sally and Sylvia, and we had a room in de Big House and sister Sally didn't do nothing else but look after me.
I used to stand with my thumb in my mouth and hold to Miss Jane's apron while she knitted.
When Judge Hillyer was elected he sold out his farm and gave his slaves to his children. He owned about twelve
or fourteen slaves at this time. He gave me and my sister Sylvia to his son, Dr. Hillyer, and my father to another
one of his sons who was studying law. Father stayed with him and took care of him until he graduated. Father learned
to be a good carpenter while he lived with George Hillyer. George never married until after de War.
Dr. Hillyer lived on a big plantation but he practiced medicine all de time. He didn't have much time to look after
de farm but he had good overseers and they sure didn't beat his slaves or mistreat 'em in any way. Dr. Hillyer
married a rich girl, Miss Mary Cooley, and her father gave her fifteen slaves when she married and Judge Hillyer
gave him five so he had a purty good start from de first and he knowed how to make money so he was a wealthy man
when de Rebellion started.
My sister and I didn't know how to act when we was sent out there among strangers. We had to live in de quarters
just like de other niggers, and we didn't especially like it. I guess I was a sort of bad boy.
There was several more boys about my age and we didn't have any work to do but just busy ourselves by getting into
mischief. We'd ride de calves, chase de pigs, kill de chickens, break up hens nests, and in fact do most everything
we hadn't ought to do. Finally they put us to toting water to de field hands, minding de gaps, taking de cows to
pasture and as dat kept us purty busy we wasn't so bad after dat.
My happiest days was when I was with de old Judge and Miss Jane. I can sit here and think of them old times and
it seems like it was just yesterday dat it all happened. He was a great hand to go to town every day and lounge
around wid his cronies. I used to go with him, and my how they would argue. Sometimes they would get mad and shake
their canes in each other's faces. I guess they was talking politics.
Our old Master liked cats better than any man I ever saw, and he always had five or six that followed him about
de place like dogs. When he went to eat they was always close to him and just as soon as he finished he would always
feed them. When he was gone us boys used to throw at his cats or set de dogs on 'em. We was always careful dat
no one saw us for if he had known about it he would a-whipped us and no mistake. I wouldn't a-blamed him either,
for I like cats now. I think they are lots of company.
He was a typical Southern gentleman, medium sized, and wore a Van Dyke beard. He never whipped his slaves, and
he didn't have a one dat wouldn't a-died for him.
Judge Hillyer had one son, William, dat wouldn't go to college. He made fun of his brothers for going to school
so long, and said that he would be ashamed to go and stay five or six years. After de War he settled down and studied
law in Judge Akin's office and opened a office in Athens, Georgia, and he made de best lawyer of them all.
Us boys used to go hunting with Master William. He hunted rabbits, quails, squirrels, and sometimes he would kill
a deer. He hunted mostly with dogs. He never used a gun but very little. Lead was so scarce and cost so much dat
he couldn't afford to waste a bullet on rabbits or snakes. He made his own bullets. The dogs would chase a rabbit
into a hollow tree and we'd take a stick and twist him out. Sometimes we'd have nearly all de hide twisted off
him when we'd git him out.
Old Judge Hillyer smoked a pipe with a long stem. He used to give me ten cents a day to fill it for him. He told
me I had to have $36 at the end of the year, but I never made it. There was a store right close to us and I'd go
down there and spend my money for lemon stick candy, ginger cakes, peanuts, and firecrackers. Old Master knowed
I wouldn't save it, and he didn't care if I did spent it for it was mine to do with just as I pleased.
Every time a circus come to town I'd run off and they wouldn't see me again all day. Seemed like I just couldn't
help it. I wouldn't take time to git permission to go. One time to punish me for running off he tied me up by my
thumbs, and I had to stay home while de rest went. I didn't dare try to git loose and run off for I knowed I'd
git my jacket tanned if I did. Old Master never laid his hand on me, but I knowed he would if I didn't do as he
told me. He never told us twice to do anything either.
Coins had curious names in them days. A dime was called a thrip. Fourpen was about the same value as three cents
or maybe a little more. It took three of 'em to make a thrip. There was all sorts of paper money.
Every first Tuesday slaves were brought in from Virginia and sold on de block. De auctioneer was Cap'n Dorsey.
E. M. Cobb was de slave bringer. They would stand de slaves up on de block and talk about what a fine looking specimen
of black manhood or womanhood dey was, tell how healthy dey was, look in their mouth and examine their teeth just
like they was a horse, and talk about de kind of work they would be fit for and could do. Young healthy boys and
girls brought the best prices. I guess they figured dat they would grow to be valuable. I used to stand around
and watch de sales take place but it never entered my mind to be afraid for I knowed old Judge wasn't going to
sell me. I thought I was an important member of his family.
Old Judge bought every roguish nigger in the country. He'd take him home and give him the key to everything on
de place and say to help hisself. Soon as he got all he wanted to eat he'd quit being a rogue. Old Judge said that
was what made niggers steal--they was hungry.
They used to scare us kids by telling us dat a runaway nigger would git us. De timber was awful heavy in de river
bottoms, and dey was one nigger dat run off from his master and lived for years in these bottoms. He was there
all during de War and come out after de surrender. Every man in dat country owned him at some time or other. His
owner sold him to a man who was sure he could catch him--he never did, so he sold him to another slave owner and
so on till nearly everybody had him. He changed hands about six or seven times. They would come in droves with
blood hounds and hunt for him but dey couldn't catch him for he knowed them woods too well. He'd feed de dogs and
make friends with 'em and they wouldn't bother him. He lived on nuts, fruit, and wild game, and niggers would slip
food to him. He'd slip into town and get whiskey and trade it to de niggers for food.
Judge Hillyer never 'lowanced his niggers and dey could always have anything on de place to eat. We had so much
freedom dat other slave owners in our neighborhood didn't like for us to come among their slaves for they said
we was free niggers and would make their slaves discontented.
After I went to live with Judge Hillyer's son, Dr. Hillyer, one of my jobs was to tote the girls books to school
every morning. All the plantation owners had a colored boy dat did that. After we had toted de books to de school
house we'd go back down de road a piece and line up and have the "gone-bying-est" fight you ever see.
We'd have regular battles. If I got licked in de morning I'd go home and rest up and I'd give somebody a good licking
dat evening. I reckon I caught up with my fighting for in all my working life I have always worked with gangs of
men of from one to two-hundred and I never struck a man and no man ever struck me.
Jim Williams was a patroller, and how he did like to catch a nigger off de farm without a permit so he could whip
him. Jim thought he was de best man in de country and could whip de best of 'em. One night John Hardin, a big husky
feller, was out late. He met Jim and knowed he was in for it. Jim said, "John I'm gonna give you a white man's
chance. I'm gonna let you fight me and if you are de best man, well and good."
John say, "Master Jim, I can't fight wid you. Come on and give me my licking, and let me go on home."
But Jim wouldn't do it, and he slapped John and called him some names and told him he is a coward to fight him.
All dis made John awful mad and he flew into him and give him the terriblest licking a man ever toted. He went
on home but knew he would git into trouble over it.
Jim talked around over the country about what he was going to do to John but everybody told him dat he brought
it all on hisself. He never did try to git another nigger to fight with him.
Yes, I guess charms keep off bad luck. I have wore 'em but money always was my best lucky piece. I've made lots
of money but I never made good use of it.
I was always afraid of ghosts but I never saw one. There was a graveyard beside de road from our house to town
and I always was afraid to go by it. I'd shut my eyes and run for dear life till I was past de grave yard. I had
heard dat there was a headless man dat stayed there on cold rainy days or foggy nights he'd hide by de fence and
throw his head at you. Once a man got hit and he fell right down dead. I believed dat tale and you can imagine
how I felt whenever I had to go past there by myself and on foot.
I saw lots of Ku Kluxers but I wasn't afraid of them. I knowed I hadn't done nothing and they wasn't after me.
One time I met a bunch of 'em and one of 'em said, "Who is dis feller?" Another one said, "Oh, dat's
Gabe's foolish boy, come on, don't bother him." I always did think dat voice sounded natural but I never did
say anything about it. It sounded powerful like one of old Judge's boys. Dey rode on and didn't bother me and I
never was a bit afraid of 'em any more.
I went to school one month after de War. I never learned much but I learned to read some where along de road dat
I come over. My father come from Athens, Georgia, and took us away with him. I learned the carpenter's trade from
him. He was so mean to me dat I run away when I was nineteen. I went back to Rome, Georgia, and got a job with
a bridge gang and spent two years with 'em. I went then to Henderson, Kentucky, and worked for ten years. There
was hundreds of colored people coming to de mines at Krebs and Alderson and I decided to come along, too. I never
worked in de mines but I did all sorts of carpentering for them.
I married in Atoka, Oklahoma, thirty-three years ago. I never had no children.
I've made lots of money but somehow it always got away from me. But me and my wife have our little home here and
we are both still able to work a little, so I guess we are making it all right.
HAL HUTSON
Age 90 yrs. Oklahoma City, Okla.
I was born at Galveston, Tennessee, October 12, 1847. There were 11 children: 7 brothers; Andrew, George, Clent,
Gilbert, Frank, Mack and Horace; and 3 girls: Rosie, Marie and Nancy. We were all Hutsons. Together with my mother
and father we worked for the same man whose name was Mr. Barton Brown, but who we all call Master Brown, and sometimes
Mr. Brown.
Master Brown had a good weather-board house, two story, with five or six rooms. They lived pretty well. He had
eight children. We lived in one-room log huts. There were a long string of them huts. We slept on the floor like
hogs. Girls and boys slept together--jest everybody slept every whar. We never knew what biscuits were! We ate
"seconds and shorts" (wheat ground once) for bread. Ate rabbits, possums baked with taters, beans, and
bean soup. No chicken, fish and the like. My favorite dish now is beans.
Master Brown owned about 36 or 40 slaves, I can't recall jest now, and about 200 acres of ground. There was very
little cotton raised in Galveston--I mean jest some corn. Sometimes we would shuck corn all night. He would not
let us raise gardens of our own, but didn't mind us raising corn and a few other truck vegetables to sell for a
little spending change.
I learned to read, write and figger at an early age. Master Brown's boy and I were the same age you see (14 years
old) and he would send me to school to protect his kids, and I would have to sit up there until school was out.
So while sitting there I listened to what the white teacher was telling the kids, and caught on how to read, write
and figger--but I never let on, 'cause if I was caught trying to read or figger dey would whip me something terrible.
After I caught on how to figger the white kids would ask me to teach them. Master Brown would often say: "My
God O'mighty, never do for that nigger to learn to figger."
We weren't allowed to count change. If we borrowed a fifty-cent piece, we would have to pay back a fifty-cent piece--not
five dimes or fifty pennies or ten nickels.
We went barefooted the year round and wore long shirts split on each side. All of us niggers called all the whites
"poor white trash." The overseer was nothing but poor white trash and the meanest man that ever walked
on earth. He never did whip me much 'cause I was kind of a pet. I worked up to the Big House, but he sho' did whip
them others. Why, one day he was beating my mother, and I was too small to say anything, so my big brother heard
her crying and came running, picked up a chunk and that overseer stopped a'beating her. The white boy was holding
her on the ground and he was whipping her with a long leather whip. They said they couldn't teach her no sense
and she said "I don't wanna learn no sense." The overseer's name was Charlie Clark. One day he whipped
a man until he was bloody as a pig 'cause he went to the mill and stayed too long.
The patroller rode all night and iffen we were caught out later than 10:00 o'clock they would beat us, but we would
git each other word by sending a man round way late at night. Always take news by night. Of course the Ku Klux
Klan didn't come 'til after the war. They was something like the patrollers. Never heard of no trouble between
the black and whites 'cause them niggers were afraid to resist them.
My biggest job was keeping flies off'n the table up at the Big House. When time come to go in for the day we would
cut up and dance. I can't remember any of the songs jest now, but we had some that we sung. We danced a whole lots
and jest sung "made up" songs.
Old Master would stay up to hear us come in. Of course Saturday afternoon was a holiday. We didn't work no holidays.
Master gave us one week off for Christmas, and never worked us on Sunday, unless the "ox was in the ditch."
When the slaves got sick we had white doctors, and we would wait on each other. Drink dock root tea, mullin tea,
and flaxweed tea, but we never wore charms.
I think it's a good thing that slavery's over. It ought to been over a good while ago. But its going to be slavery
all over again if things don't git better. But I thank God I've been a Christian for 70 years, and now is a member
of Tabernacle Baptist Church and deacon of the church, and a Christian 'cause the Bible teaches me to be.
That war was a awful thing. I used to pack them soldiers water on my head, and then I worked at Fort Sill and Fort
Dawson in Tennessee. Those Yankees came by nights--got behind those rebels, and took their hams, drove horses in
the houses, killed their chickens and ate up the rebels food, but the Yanks didn't bother us niggers.
When freedom come old Master called us all in from the fields and told us, "All of you niggers are free as
frogs now to go wherever you choose. You are your own man now." We all continued working for him at $5.00
a month. After the crops were gathered the niggers scattered out. Some went North--and we would say when they went
North that they had "crossed the water."
I never married 'till after the War. Married at my mother's house 'cause my wife's mother didn't let us marry at
her house, so I sent Jack Perry after her on a hoss and we had a big dinner--and jest got married.
I am the father of nine children, but jest three is living. One is a dentist in Muskogge, Dr. Andrew Hutson. All
of the children are pretty well read. We never had schools for niggers until after slavery.
I think Abraham Lincoln was a great man, but I don't know much about Jeff Davis. Booker T. Washington was a fine
man.
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]
WILLIAM HUTSON
Age 98 yrs. Tulsa, Okla.
When a feller gets as old as me it's a heap easier to forget things than it is to remember, but I ain't never forgot
that old plantation where good old Doctor Allison lived back there in Georgia long before the War that brought
us slaves the freedom.
I hear the slaves talking about mean masters when I was a boy. They wasn't talking about Master Allison though,
'cause he was a good man and took part for the slaves when any trouble come up with the overseer.
The Mistress' name was Louisa (the same name as the gal I was married to later after the War), and she was just
about as mean as was the old Master good. I was the house boy when I gets old enough to understand what the Master
wants done and I does it just like he says, so I reckon that's why we always get along together.
The Master helped to raise my mammy. When I was born he says to her (my mammy tells me when I gets older): "Cheney",
the old Master say, "that boy is going be different from these other children. I aims to see that he is. He's
going be in the house all the time, he ain't going work in the fields; he's going to stay right with me all the
time."
They was about twenty slaves on the plantation but I was the one old Master called for when he wanted something
special for himself. I was the one he took with him on the trips to town, I was the one who fetch him the cooling
drink after he look about the fields and sometimes I carry the little black bag when he goes a-doctoring folks
with the misery away off some other farm.
The Master hear about there going be an auction one day and he figgered maybe he needed some more slaves if they
was good ones, so he took me and started out early in the morning. It wasn't very far and we got there early before
the auction started. Rockon that was the first time I ever see any slaves sold.
They was a long platform made of heavy planks and all the slaves was lined up on the platform, and they was stripped
to the waist, men, women, and children. One or two of the women folks was bare naked. They wasn't young women neither,
just middle age ones, but they was built good. Some of them was well greased and that grease covered up many a
scar they'd earned for some foolishment or other.
The Master don't buy none and pretty soon we starts home. The Master was riding horseback,--he didn't ever use
no buggy 'cause he said that was the way for folks to travel who was too feeble to sit in the saddle--and I rode
back of him on another horse, but that horse I rides is just horse while the Master's was a real thoroughbred like
maybe you see on race tracks down in the South.
That auction kept bothering me all the way back to the plantation. I kept seeing them little children standing
on the flatform (platform), their mammy and pappy crying hard 'cause their young'uns is being sold. They was a
lot of heartaches even they was slaves and it gets me worried.
I asked the Master is he going to have an auction and he jest laugh. I ain't never sold no slaves yet and I ain't
going to, he says. And I gets easier right then. I kind of hates to think about standing up on one of them platforms,
kinder sorry to leave my old mammy and the Master, so I was easy in the heart when he talked like that.
The plantation house was a big frame and the yard was shaded with trees all around. The Master's children--four
boys and two girls--would play in the yard with me just like I was one of the family. And we'd go hunting and fishing.
There was a creek not far away and they was good fishing in the stream and squirrels in the trees. Mighty lot of
fun to catch them fishes but more fun when they is all fried brown and ready for to eat with a piece of hot pone.
Ain't no fish ever taste that good since!
One thing I sort of ponders about. The old Master don't let us have no religion meetings and reading and writing
is something I learn after the War. Some of the slaves talk about meeting 'round the country and wants to have
preaching on the plantation. Master says NO. No preacher around here to tell about the Bible and religion will
be just a puzzlement, the Master say, and we let it go at that. I reckon that was the only thing he was set against.
That and the Yankees. The Master went to the War and stayed 'til it was most over. He was a mighty sick man when
he come back to the old place, but I was there waiting for him just like always. All the time he was away I take
care around the house. That's what he say for me to do when he rides away to fight the Yankees. Lot's of talk about
the War but the slaves goes right on working just the same, raising cotton and tobacco.
The slaves talk a heap about Lincoln and some trys to run away to the North. Don't hear much about Jeff Davis,
mostly Lincoln. He give us slaves the freedom but we was better off as we was.
The day of freedom come around just [HW: like] any other day, except the Master say for me to bring up the horses,
we is going to town. That's when he hears about the slaves being free. We gets to the town and the Master goes
into the store. It's pretty early but the streets was filled with folks talking and I wonder what makes the Master
in such a hurry when he comes out of the store.
He gets on his horse and tells me to follow fast. When we gets back to the plantation he sounds the horn calling
the slaves. They come in from the fields and meet 'round back of the kitchen building that stood separate from
the Master's house. They all keeps quiet while the Master talks: "You-all is free now, and all the rest of
the slaves is free too. Nobody owns you now and nobody going to own you anymore!" That was good news, I reckon,
but nobody know what to do about it.
The crops was mostly in and the Master wants the folks to stay 'til the crop is finished. They talk about it the
rest of that day. They wasn't no celebration 'round the place, but they wasn't no work after the Master tells us
we is free. Nobody leave the place though. Not 'til in the fall when the work is through. Then some of us go into
the town and gets work 'cause everybody knows the Allison slaves was the right kind of folks to have around.
That was the first money I earn and then I have to learn how to spend it. That was the hardest part 'cause the
prices was high and the wages was low.
Then I moves on and meets the gal that maybe I been looking for, Louisa Baker, and right away she takes to me and
we is married. Ain't been no other woman but her and she's waiting for me wherever the dead waits for the living.
I reckon she won't have so long to wait now, even if I is feeling pretty spry and got good use of the feets and
hands. Ninety-eight years brings a heap of wear and some of these days the old body'll need a long time rest and
then I'll join her for all the time.
I is ready for the New Day a-coming!
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]
MRS. ISABELLA JACKSON
Age 79 yrs. Tulsa, Okla.
"Boom ... Boom! Boom ... Boom!" That's the way the old weaver go all day long when my sister, Margaret,
is making cloth for the slaves down on old Doc Joe Jackson's plantation in Louisiana.
That was near the little place of Bunker, and its my birthplace, and I guess where all Mammy's children were born
because she was never sold but once and nobody but the old Doc ever did own her after she come to his place.
He always say couldn't nobody get work out of Mammy but him. I guess that's just his foolery 'cause if she ain't
no good the Old Doc most likely sell her to some of them white folks in Texas.
That's what they done to them mean, no account slaves--just send them to Texas. Them folks sure knew how for to
handle 'em!
But I was talking about my sister, Margaret. I can still see her weaving the cloth--Boom!... Boom!--and she hear
that all the day and get mighty tired. Sometimes she drop her head and go to sleep. The Mistress get her then sure.
Rap her on the head with almost anything handy, but she hit pretty easy, just trying to scare her that's all.
The old Master though, he ain't so easy as that. The whippings was done by the master and the overseer just tell
the old Doc about the troubles, like the old Doc say:
"You just watch the slaves and see they works and works hard, but don't lay on with the whip, because I is
the only one who knows how to do it right!"
Maybe the old Master was sickened of whippings from the stories the slaves told about the plantation that joined
ours on the north.
If they ever was a living Devil that plantation was his home and the owner was It! That's what the old slaves say,
and when I tell you about it see if I is right.
That man got so mean even the white folks was scared of him, 'specially if he was filled with drink. That's the
way he was most of the time, just before the slaves was freed.
All the time we hear about slaves on that place getting whipped or being locked in the stock--that one of them
things where your head and hands is fastened through holes in a wide board, and you stands there all the day and
all the night--and sometimes we hears of them staying in the stock for three-four weeks if they trys to run away
to the north.
Sometimes we hears about some slave who is shot by that man while he is wild with the drink. That's what I'm telling
about now.
Don't nobody know what made the master mad at the old slave--one of the oldest on the place. Anyway, the master
didn't whip him; instead of that he kills him with the gun and scares the others so bad most of 'em runs off and
hides in the woods.
The drunk master just drags the old dead slave to the graveyard which is down in the corner away from the growing
crops, and hunts up two of the young boys who was hiding in the barn. He takes them to dig the grave.
The master stands watching every move they make, the dead man lays there with his face to the sky, and the boys
is so scared they could hardly dig. The master keeps telling them to hurry with the digging.
After while he tells them to stop and put the body in the grave. They wasn't no coffin, no box, for him. Just the
old clothes that he wears in the fields.
But the grave was too short and they start to digging some more, but the master stop them. He says to put back
the body in the grave, and then he jumps into the grave hisself. Right on the dead he jumps and stomps 'til the
body is mashed and twisted to fit the hole. Then the old nigger is buried.
That's the way my Mammy hears it and told it to us children. She was a Christian and I know she told the truth.
Like I said, Mammy was never sold only to Master Jackson. But she's seen them slave auctions where the men, women
and children was stripped naked and lined up so's the buyers could see what kind of animals they was getting for
their money.
My pappy's name was Jacob Keller and my mother was Maria. They's both dead long ago, and I'm waiting for the old
ship Zion that took my Mammy away, like we use to sing of in the woods:
"It has landed my old Mammy, It has landed my old Mammy, Get on board, Get on board, 'Tis the Old Ship of
Zion--Get on board!"
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]
NELLIE JOHNSON
I don't know how old I is, but I is a great big half grown gal when the time of the War come, and I can remember
how everything look at that time, and what all the people do, too.
I'm pretty nigh to blind right now, and all I can do is set on this little old front porch and maybe try to keep
the things picked up behing my grandchild and his wife, because she has to work and he is out selling wood most
of the time.
But I didn't have to live in any such a house during the time I was young like they is, because I belonged to old
Chief Rolley McIntosh, and my pappy and mammy have a big, nice, clean log house to live in, and everything round
it look better than most renters got these days.
We never did call old Master anything but the Chief or the General for that's what everybody called him in them
days, and he never did act towards us like we was slaves, much anyways. He was the mikko of the Kawita town long
before the War and long before I was borned, and he was the chief of the Lower Creeks even before he got to be
the chief of all the Creeks.
But just at the time of the War the Lower Creeks stayed with him and the Upper Creeks, at least them that lived
along to the south of where we live, all go off after that old man Gouge, and he take most of the Seminole too.
I hear old Tuskenugge, the big man with the Seminoles, but I never did see him, nor mighty few of the Seminoles.
My mammy tells me old General ain't been living in that Kawita town very many years when I was borned. He come
up there from down in the fork of the river where the Arkansas and the Verdigris run together a little while after
all the last of the Creeks come out to the Territory. His brother old Chili McIntosh, live down in that forks of
the rivers too, but I don't think he ever move up into that Kawita town. It was in the narrow stretch where the
Verdigris come close to the Arkansas. They got a pretty good sized white folks town there now they call Coweta,
but the old Creek town was different from that. The folks lived all around in that stretch between the rivers,
and my old Master was the boss of all of them.
For a long time after the Civil War they had a court at the new town called Coweta court, and a school house too,
but before I was born they had a mission school down the Kawita Creek from where the town now is.
Earliest I can remember about my master was when he come to the slave settlement where we live and get out of the
buggy and show a preacher all around the place. That preacher named Mr. Loughridge, and he was the man had the
mission down on Kawita Creek before I was born, but at that time he had a school off at some other place. He git
down out the buggy and talk to all us children, and ask us how we getting along.
I didn't even know at that time that old Chief was my master, until my pappy tell me after he was gone. I think
all the time he was another preacher.
My pappy's name was Jackson McInotsh, and my mammy name was Hagar. I think old Chief bring them out to the Territory
when he come out with his brother Chili and the rest of the Creek people. My pappy tell me that old Master's pappy
was killed by the Creeks because he signed up a treaty to bring his folks out here, and old Master always hated
that bunch of Creeks that done that.
I think old man Gouge was one of the big men in that bunch, and he fit in the War on the Government side, after
he done holler and go on so about the Government making him come out here.
Old Master have lots of land took up all around that Kawita place, and I don't know how much, but a lot more than
anybody else. He have it all fenced in with good rail fence, and all the Negroes have all the horses and mules
and tools they need to work it with. They all live in good log houses they built themselves, and everything they
need.
Old Master's land wasn't all in one big field, but a lot of little fields scattered all over the place. He just
take up land what already was a kind of prairie, and the niggers don't have to clear up much woods.
We all live around on them little farms, and we didn't have to be under any overseer like the Cherokee Negroes
had lots of times. We didn't have to work if they wasn't no work to do that day.
Everybody could have a little patch of his own, too, and work it between times, on Saturdays and Sundays if he
wanted to. What he made on that patch belong to him, and the old Chief never bothered the slaves about anything.
Every slave can fix up his own cabin any way he want to, and pick out a good place with a spring if he can find
one. Mostly the slave houses had just one big room with a stick-and-mud chimney, just like the poor people among
the Creeks had. Then they had a brush shelter built out of four poles with a roof made out of brush, set out to
one side of the house where they do the cooking and eating, and sometimes the sleeping too. They set there when
they is done working, and lay around on corn shuck beds, because they never did use the log house much only in
cold and rainy weather.
Old Chief just treat all the Negroes like they was just hired hands, and I was a big girl before I knowed very
much about belonging to him.
I was one of the youngest children in my family; only Sammy and Millie was younger than I was. My big brothers
was Adam, August and Nero, and my big sisters was Flora, Nancy and Rhoda. We could work a mighty big patch for
our own selves when we was all at home together, and put in all the work we had to for the old Master too, but
after the War the big children all get married off and took up land of they own.
Old Chief lived in a big log house made double with a hall in between, and a lot of white folks was always coming
there to see him about something. He was gone off somewhere a lot of the time, too, and he just trusted the Negroes
to look after his farms and stuff. We would just go on out in the fields and work the crops just like they was
our own, and he never come around excepting when we had harvest time, or to tell us what he wanted planted.
Sometimes he would send a Negro to tell us to gather up some chickens or turkeys or shoats he wanted to sell off,
and sometimes he would send after loads of corn and wheat to sell. I heard my pappy say old Chief and Mr. Chili
McIntosh was the first ones to have any wheat in the Territory, but I don't know about that.
Along during the War the Negro men got pretty lazy and shiftless, but my pappy and my big brothers just go right
on and work like they always did. My pappy always said we better off to stay on the place and work good and behave
ourselves because old Master take care of us that way. But on lots of other places the men slipped off.
I never did see many soldiers during the War, and there wasn't any fighting close to where we live. It was kind
of down in the bottoms, not far from the Verdigris and that Gar Creek, and the soldiers would have bad crossings
if the come by our place.
We did see some whackers riding around sometimes, in little bunches of about a dozen, but they never did bother
us and never did stop. Some of the Negro girls that I knowed of mixed up with the poor Creeks and Seminoles, and
some got married to them after the War, but none of my family ever did mix up with them that I knows of.
Along towards the last of the War I never did see old Chief come around any more, and somebody say he went down
into Texas. He never did come back that I knows of, and I think he died down there.
One day my pappy come home and tell us all that the Creek done sign up to quit the War, and that old Master send
word that we all free now and can take up some land for our own selves or just stay where we is if we want to.
Pappy stayed on that place where he was at until he died.
I got to be a big girl and went down to work for a Creek family close to where they got that Checotah town now.
At that time it was just all a scattered settlement of Creeks and they call it Eufaula town. After while I marry
a man name Joe Johnson, at a little settlement they call Rentesville. He have his freedmen's allotment close to
that place, but mine is up on the Verdigris, and we move up there to live.
We just had one child, named Louisa, and she married Tom Armstrong. They had three-four children, but one was named
Ton, and it is him I live with now. My husband's been dead a long, long time now.
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]
MS. JOSIE JORDAN
Age 75 yrs. 840 East King St., Tulsa, Oklahoma.
I was born right in the middle of the War on the Mark Lowery plantation at Sparta, in White County, Tennessee,
so I don't know anything much about them slave days except what my mammy told me long years ago. 'Course I mean
the Civil War, for to us colored folks they just wasn't no other war as meanful as that one.
My mother she come from Virginia when a little girl, but never nobody tells me where at my pappy is from. His name
was David Lowery when I was born, but I guess he had plenty other names, for like my mammy he was sold lots of
times.
Salina was my mammy's name, and she belonged to a Mister Clark, who sold her and pappy to Mark Lowery 'cause she
was a fighting, mule-headed woman.
It wasn't her fault 'cause she was a fighter. The master who owned her before Mister Clark was one of them white
mens who was always whipping and beating his slaves and mammy couldn't stand it no more.
That's the way she tells me about it. She just figgured she would be better off dead and out of her misery as to
be whipped all the time, so one day the master claimed they was something wrong with her work and started to raise
his whip, but mammy fought back and when the ruckus was over the Master was laying still on the ground and folks
thought he was dead, he got such a heavy beating.
Mammy says he don't die and right after that she was sold to Mister Clark I been telling you about. And mammy was
full of misery for a long time after she was carried to Mark Lowery's plantation where at I was born during of
the War.
She had two children while belonging to Mister Clark and he wouldn't let them go with mammy and pappy. That's what
caused her misery. Pappy tried to ease her mind but she jest kept a'crying for her babies, Ann and Reuban, till
Mister Lowery got Clark to leave them visit with her once a month.
Mammy always says that Mark Lowery was a good master. But he'd heard things about mammy before he got her and I
reckon was curious to know if they was all true. Mammy says he found out mighty quick they was.
It was mammy's second day on the plantation and Mark Lowery acted like he was going to whip her for something she'd
done or hadn't, but mammy knocked him plumb through the open cellar door. He wasn't hurt, not even mad for mammy
says he climbed out the cellar a'laughing, saying he was only fooling to see if she would fight.
But mammy's troubles wasn't over then, for Mark Lowery he got himself a new young wife (his first wife was dead),
and mammy was round of the house most of the time after that.
Right away they had trouble. The Mistress was trying to make mammy hurry up with the work and she hit mammy with
the broom stick. Mammy's mule temper boiled up all over the kitchen and the Master had to stop the fighting.
He wouldn't whip mammy for her part in the trouble, so the Mistress she sent word to her father and brothers and
they come to Mister Lowery's place.
They was going to whip mammy, they was good and mad. Master was good and mad, too, and he warned 'em home.
"Whip your own slaves." He told them. "Mine have to work and if they're beat up they can't do a
days work. Get on home--I'll take care of this." And they left.
My folks didn't have no food troubles at Mark Lowery's like they did somewheres else. I remember mammy told me
about one master who almost starved his slaves. Mighty stingy I reckon he was.
Some of them slaves was so poorly thin they ribs would kinder rustle against each other like corn stalks a-drying
in the hot winds. But they gets even one hog-killing time, and it was funny too, mammy said.
They was seven hogs, fat and ready for fall hog-killing time. Just the day before old master told off they was
to be killed something happened to all them porkers. One of the field boys found them and come a-telling the master:
"The hogs is all died, now they won't be any meats for the winter."
When the master gets to where at the hogs is laying, they's a lot of Negroes standing round looking sorrow-eyed
at the wasted meat. The master asks: "What's the illness with 'em?"
"Malitis." They tell him, and they acts like they don't want to touch the hogs. Master says to dress
them anyway for they ain't no more meat on the place.
He says to keep all the meat for the slave families, but that's because he's afraid to eat it hisself account of
the hogs' got malitis.
"Don't you-all know what is malitis?" Mammy would ask the children when she was telling of the seven
fat hogs and seventy lean slaves. And she would laugh, remembering how they fooled the old master so's to get all
them good meats.
"One of the strongest Negroes got up early in the morning," Mammy would explain, "long 'fore the
rising horn called the slaves from their cabins. He skitted to the hog pen with a heavy mallet in his hand. When
he tapped Mister Hog 'tween the eyes with that mallet 'malitis' set in mighty quick, but it was a uncommon 'disease',
even with hungry Negroes around all the time."
Mammy had me three sisters and a brother while on the Lowery plantation. They was Lisa, Addie, Alice and Lincoln.
It was a long time after the War and we was all freed before we left old Master Lowery.
Stayed right there where we was at home, working in the fields, living in the same old cabins, just like before
the War. Never did have no big troubles after the War, except one time the Ku Klux Klan broke up a church meeting
and whipped some of the Negroes.
The preacher was telling about the Bible days when the Klan rode up. They was all masked up and everybody crawled
under the benches when they shouted: "We'll make you damn niggers wish you wasn't free!"
And they just about did. The preacher got the worst whipping, blood was running from his nose and mouth and ears,
and they left him laying on the floor.
They whipped the women just like the men, but Mammy and the girls wasn't touched none and we run all the way back
to the cabin. Layed down with all our clothes on and tried to sleep, but we's too scairt to close our eyes.
Mammy reckoned old Master Lowery was a-riding with the Klan that night, else we'd got a flogging too.
We first moved about a mile from Master Lowery's place and ever week we'd ask mammy if we children could go see
old Master and she'd say: "Yes, if you-all are good niggers."
The old Master was always glad to see us children and he would give us candy and apples and treat us mighty fine.
The old plantations gone, the old Masters gone, the old slaves is gone, and I'll be a going some of these days,
too, for I been here a mighty long time and they ain't nobody needs me now 'cause I is too old for any good.
"UNCLE" GEORGE G. KING
Age 83 yrs Tulsa, Oklahoma
"Prayers for sale.... Prayers for sale...." Uncle George chants in sing-song fashion as he roams around
Tulsa's Greenwood Negro district--pockets filled with prayer papers that are soiled and dirty with constant handling.
But they are potent, Uncle George tells those who fear the coming of some trouble, disaster or just ordinary misery,
and there's a special prayer for each and every trouble--including one to keep away the bill collector when the
young folks forget to make payments on the radio, the furniture, the car, or the Spring outfit purchased months
ago from the credit clothier.
Its all in the Bible and the Bible is his workshop--'cause folks don't know how to pray.
He's mighty old, is Uncle George King, and he'll tell you that he was born on two-hundred acres of Hell, but the
whitefolks called it Samuel Roll's plantation (six miles N.E. of Lexington, South Carolina).
Kinder small for a plantation, Uncle George explains, but plenty room for that devil overseer to lay on the lash,
and plenty room for the old she-devil Mistress to whip his mammy til' she was just a piece of living raw meat!
The old Master talked hard words, but the Mistress whipped. Lot's of difference, and Uncle George ought to know,
'cause he's felt the lash layed on pretty heavy when he was no older than kindergarten children of today.
The Mistress owned the slaves and they couldn't be sold without her say-so. That's the reason George was never
sold, but the Master once tried to sell him 'cause the beatings was breaking him down. Old Mistress said "No",
and used it for an excuse to whip his Mammy. Uncle George remembers that, too.
They crossed her wrists and tied them with a stout cord. They made her bend over so that her arms was sticking
back between her legs and fastened the arms with a stick so's she couldn't straighten up.
He saw the Mistress pull his Mammy's clothes over her head so's the lash would reach the skin. He saw the overseer
lay on the whip with hide busting blows that left her laying, all a shiver, on the ground, like a wounded animal
dying from the chase.
He saw the Mistress walk away, laughing, while his Mammy screamed and groaned--the old Master standing there looking
sad and wretched, like he could feel the blows on Mammy's bared back and legs as much as she.
The Mistress was a great believer in the power of punishment, and Uncle George remembers the old log cabin jail
built before the War, right on the plantation, where runaway slaves were stowed away 'till they would promise to
behave themselves.
The old jail was full up during most of the War. Three runaway slaves were still chained to its floor when the
Master gave word the Negroes were free.
They were Prince, Sanovey (his wife), and Henry, who were caught and whipped by the patrollers, and then brought
back to the plantation for another beating before being locked in jail.
The Mistress ordered them chained, and the overseer would come every morning with the same question: "Will
you niggers promise not to runaway no more?"
But they wouldn't promise. One at a time the overseer would loosen the chains, and lead them from the jail to cut
them with powerful blows from the lash, then drag them back to be chained until the next day when more lickings
were given 'cause they wouldn't promise.
The jail was emptied on the day Master Roll called together all the men, women and children to tell them they wasn't
slaves no more. Uncle George tells it this way:
"The Master he says we are all free, but it don't mean we is white. And it don't mean we is equal. Just equal
for to work and earn our own living and not depend on him for no more meats and clother." [TR: clothes?]
Food was scarce before the War; it was worse after the shooting and killing was over, and Uncle George says: "There
wasn't no corn bread, no bacon--just trash eating trash, like when General Sherman marched down through the country
taking everything the soldiers could lug away, and burning all along the way.
"Wasn't nothing to eat after he march by. Darkies search 'round the barns, maybe find some grains of corn
in the manure, and they'd parch the grains--nothing else to eat, except sometimes at night Mammy would skit out
and steal scraps from the Master's house for the children.
"She had lots of hungry mouths, too. They was seven of us then, six boys and a girl, Eliza. The boys was Wesley,
Simeon, Moses, Peter, William and me, George. This pappy's name was Griffin.
"But they was other pappys (Mammy told him) when Eva was born long before any of us, and Laura come next,
but from a white daddy. Mammy lost them when she was sold around on the markets.
"The Klan they done lots of riding round the country. One night the come down to the old slave quarters where
the cabins is all squared round each other, and called everybody outdoors. They's looking for two women.
"They picks 'em out of the crowd right quick and say they been with white men. Says their children is by white
men, and they're going to get whipped so's they'll remember to stay with their own kind. The women kick and scream,
but the mens grab them and roll them over a barrel and let fly with the whip."
It was a long time after the Civil War that Uncle George got his first schooling or attended regular church meetings.
Like he says:
"Getting up at four o'clock in the morning, hoeing in the fields all day, doing chores when they come in from
the fields, and then piddling with the weaver 'til nine or ten every night--it just didn't leave no time for reading
and such, even if we was allowed to."
And religion, that came later too, for during the old plantation days Uncle George's white folks didn't think a
Negro needed religion--there wasn't a Heaven for Negroes anyhow.
Finally, though, the Master gave them right to hold meetings on the plantation, and old Peter Coon was the preacher.
The overseer was there with guards to keep the Negroes from getting too much riled up when old Peter started talking
about Paul or some of the things in the Old Testament. That's all he would talk about; nothing 'bout Jesus, just
Paul and the Old Testament.
His Mammy went to every meeting. Like he says: "She knew them good things was good for her children and she
told us about the Bible."
Like his old Mammy, Uncle George is a firm believer in the power of the word. "Prayers are saving!" Uncle
George says, "But they's lots of folks' don't know how to pray."
That's why he has prayers for sale--and he knows they are never failing, "If you tack 'em up on the wall and
say 'em over and over every day they's sure to be answered."
[Date stamp: AUG 19 1937]
MARTHA KING
Age 85 yrs. McAlester, Oklahoma
"They hung Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree! They hung Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree! They hung Jeff Davis
to a sour apple tree! While we go marching on!"
Dat was de song de Yankees sang when they marched by our house. They didn't harm us in any way. I guess de War
was over then 'cause a few days after dat old Master say, "Matt", and I say, "Suh?" He say,
"Come here. You go tell Henry I say come out here and to bring the rest of the niggers with him." I went
to the north door and I say, "Henry, Master Willis say ever one of you come out here." We all went outside
and line up in front of old Master. He say, "Henry". Henry say, "Yes sah". Old Master say,
"Every one of you is free--as free as I am. You all can leave or stay 'round here if you want to."
We all stayed on for a long time 'cause we didn't have no other home and didn't know how to take keer of ourselves.
We was kind of scared I reckon. Finally I heard my mother was in Walker County, Alabama, and I left and went to
live with her.
My mother was Harriet Davis and she was born in Virginia. I don't know who my father was. My grandmother was captured
in Africa when she was a little girl. A big boat was down at the edge of a bay an' the people was all excited about
it an' some of the bravest went up purty close to look at it. The men on the boat told them to come on board and
they could have the pretty red handkerchiefs, red and blue beads and big rings. A lot of them went on board and
the ship sailed away with them. My grandmother never saw any of her folks again.
When I was about five years old they brought my grandmother, my mother and my two aunts and two uncles to Tuskaloosa
from Fayettesville, Alabama. We crossed a big river on a ferry boat. They put us on the "block" and sold
us. I can remember it well. A white man "cried" me off just like I was a animal or varmint or something.
He said, "Here's a little nigger, who will give me a bid on her. She will make a good house gal someday."
Old man Davis give him $300.00 for me. I don't know whether I was afraid or not; I don't think I cared just so
I had something to eat. I was allus hungry. Miss Davis' grandmother and one of my aunts and uncles. Old man Davis
bought the rest of us. Uncle Henry looked after me when he could. I could see my mother once in awhile but not
often.
I had a purty easy time. I didn't have to work very hard 'till I was about ten years old. I started working in
the field and I had to work in the weaving room too. We made all our own clothes. I spun and wove cotton and wool.
Old Master bought our shoes. We made fancy cloth. We could stripe the cloth or check it or leave it plain. We also
wove coverlids and jeans to make mens suits out of. I could still do that if I had to.
We all went to church with the white folks. We didn't have no colored preachers. The niggers would get happy and
shout all over the place. Sometimes they'd fall out doors.
The Big House was a double log, two story house, not very fine but awful comfortable. They was four big fireplace
rooms downstairs and two upstairs. Then they was two sort of shed rooms. There was a big piazza across the front.
The kitchen was a way off from the house, seems like it was 200 feet at least. Our quarters were close by at the
back. He didn't have many slaves and they was nearly all my kinfolks. There was Aunt Emmy and Phillis, Uncles Henry,
Mitchell, Louis and Andy, and the others were Uncle Logan and Uncle Nathan. They was old Mistress' slaves when
she done married.
Old Master and old Mistress had three boys, Eli, Billy and Dock. They had to go to war and old Mistress sho' did
cry. She say they might get killed and she might not see 'em any more. I wonder why all dem white folks didn't
think of that when they sold mothers away from they chillun. I had to be sold away from my mother. Two of her boys
was badly wounded but they all come back.
Abe Lincoln done everything he could for the niggers. We lost our best friend when he got killed.
GEORGE KYE
Age 110 yrs. Fort Gibson, Okla.
I was born in Arkansas under Mr. Abraham Stover, on a big farm about twenty miles north of Van Buren. I was plumb
grown when the Civil War come along, but I can remember back when the Cherokee Indians was in all that part of
the country.
Joe Kye was my pappy's name what he was born under back in Garrison County, Virginia, and I took that name when
I was freed, but I don't know whether he took it or not because he was sold off by old Master Stover when I was
a child. I never have seen him since. I think he wouldn't mind good, leastways that what my mammy say.
My mammy was named Jennie and I don't think I had any brothers or sisters, but they was a whole lot of children
at the quarters that I played and lived with. I didn't live with mammy because she worked all the time, and us
children all stayed in one house.
It was a little one room log cabin, chinked and daubed, and you couldn't stir us with a stick. When we went to
eat we had a big pan and all ate out of it. One what ate the fastest got the most.
Us children wore homespun shirts and britches and little slips, and nobody but the big boys wore any britches.
I wore just a shirt until I was about 12 years old, but it had a long tall down to my calves. Four or five of us
boys slept in one bed, and it was made of hewed logs with rope laced acrost it and a shuck mattress. We had stew
made out of pork and potatoes, and sometimes greens and pot liquor, and we had ash cake mostly, but biscuits about
once a month.
In the winter time I had brass toed shoes made on the place, and a cloth cap with ear flaps.
The work I done was hoeing and plowing, and I rid a horse a lot for old Master because I was a good rider. He would
send me to run chores for him, like going to the mill. He never beat his negroes but he talked mighty cross and
glared at us until he would nearly scare us to death sometimes.
He told us the rules and we lived by them and didn't make trouble, but they was a neighbor man that had some mean
negroes and he nearly beat them to death. We could hear them hollering in the field sometimes. They would sleep
in the cotton rows, and run off, and then they would catch the cat-o-nine tails sure nuff. He would chain them
up, too, and keep them tied out to trees, and when they went to the field they would be chained together in bunches
sometimes after they had been cutting up.
We didn't have no place to go to church, but old Master didn't care if we had singing and praying, and we would
tie our shoes on our backs and go down the road close to the white church and all set down and put our shoes on
and go up close and listen to the service.
Old Master was baptized almost every Sunday and cussed us all out on Monday. I didn't join the church until after
freedom, and I always was a scoundrel for dancing. My favorite preacher was old Pete Conway. He was the only ordained
colored preacher we had after freedom, and he married me.
Old Master wouldn't let us take herb medicine, and he got all our medicine in Van Buren when we was sick. But I
wore a buckeye on my neck just the same.
When the War come along I was a grown man, and I went off to serve because old Master was too old to go, but he
had to send somebody anyways. I served as George Stover, but every time the sergeant would call out "Abe Stover",
I would answer "Here".
They had me driving a mule team wagon that Old Master furnished, and I went with the Sesesh soldiers from Van Buren
to Texarkana and back a dozen times or more. I was in the War two years, right up to the day of freedom. We had
a battle close to Texarkana and another big one near Van Buren, but I never left Arkansas and never got a scratch.
One time in the Texarkana battle I was behind some pine trees and the bullets cut the limbs down all over me. I
dug a big hole with my bare hands before I hardly knowed how I done it.
One time two white soldiers named Levy and Briggs come to the wagon train and said they was hunting slaves for
some purpose. Some of us black boys got scared because we heard they was going to Squire Mack and get a reward
for catching runaways, so me and two more lit out of there.
They took out after us and we got to a big mound in the woods and hid. Somebody shot at me and I rolled into some
bushes. He rid up and got down to look for me but I was on t'other side of his horse and he never did see me. When
they was gone we went back to the wagons just as the regiment was pulling out and the officer didn't say nothing.
They was eleven negro boys served in my regiment for their masters. The first year was mighty hard because we couldn't
get enough to eat. Some ate poke greens without no grease and took down and died.
How I knowed I was free, we was bad licked, I reckon. Anyways, we quit fighting and a Federal soldier come up to
my wagon and say: "Whose mules?" "Abe Stover's mules," I says, and he tells me then, "Let
me tell you, black boy, you are as free now as old Abe Stover his own self!" When he said that I jumped on
top of one of them mules' back before I knowed anything!
I married Sarah Richardson, February 10, 1870, and had only eleven children. One son is a deacon and one grandson
is a preacher. I am a good Baptist. Before I was married I said to the gal's old man, "I'll go to the mourners
bench if you'll let me have Sal," and sure nuff I joined up just a month after I got her. I am head of the
Sunday School and deacon in the St. Paul Baptist church in Muskogee now.
I lived about five miles from Van Buren until about twelve years ago when they found oil and then they run all
the negroes out and leased up the land. They never did treat the negroes good around there anyways.
I never had a hard time as a slave, but I'm glad we was set free. Sometimes we can't figger out the best thing
to do, but anyways we can lead our own life now, and I'm glad the young ones can learn and get somewhere these
days.
[Date stamp: NOV 5 1937]
BEN LAWSON
Age 84 yrs. Oklahoma City, Okla.
I was born in Danville, Illinois. De best I can get at my age I is 84 years old. My father dey tell me was name
Dennis Lawson and died before I was born. My mother's name was Ann Lawson, who I saw once. I was given by her to
my Mistress, Mrs. Jane Brazier, when a kid and she was too. My mother raised me, she and her son to manhood. I
got no brothers or sisters to my knowledge. I was de only slave dey had and dey raised me to be humble and fear
dem as a slave and servant. As I was de only slave I slept in de same room wid my Mistress and her son who was
grown, her husband and father being dead.
I worked on the farm doing general farm work, hoeing, plowing, harvesting the crop of wheat, corn, barley, oats,
rice, peas, etc. To make and harvest the crops dey would hire poor white help and as dey was grown and I was a
lad, dey kept me in a strain in order to keep up wid dem for if I didn't it was just too bad for my back. So's
dere would be work for me to do during the bad days of winter dey built a pen under a shed and dey would lay a
cloth on de ground covering the ground in the pen and wid small mesh wire on top of de pen on which de wheat was
laid and wid a wooden maul I would pounder out wheat all day long, even though dey could have thrashed it as dey
did de biggest part of it.
At meal time dey would give me what was left of de scraps off dey table in a plate, which I would eat most de time
on de back porch in warm weather and in de kitchen in winter.
For summer I wore a lowell shirt and for winter I wore de same old lowell shirt only wid outing slips and a pair
of brogan shoes or a pair of old shoes dat was thrown away by my Mistress' son.
Their house was a 3-room log house unpainted, wid only one bed room and a dining room and kitchen.
The plantation had 'bout 160 acres and was worked by my Mistress' son and myself plus poor white hired help, my
being de only slave.
I was treated most harshly 'mongst a group of just white people and who seemed to think me de old work ox for all
de hardest work. De nearest other Negro slaves were 'bout 15 or 20 miles from me.
When I was grown I ran away one night and walked and rode de rods under stage coaches to Paducah, Kentucky. I got
me a job and worked as a roustabout on a boat where I learned to gamble wid dice. I fought and gambled all up and
down de Mississippi River, and in de course of time I had 'bout $3,000, but I lost it.
I don't know de month or de year I was born in but I can 'member de sinking of de biggest circus show in de Mississippi
River at Mobile, Alabama when I was 10 to 14 years old, I ain't sure which.
There wasn't no children for me to play with and it seem like I never was a child but was just always a man. I
wasn't never told dat I was free, and I didn't know nothing 'bout de War much dat brought my freedom. Dey kept
all of dat away from me and I couldn't read or write so I didn't know.
I've been married only once. My wife is 54 years old, and her name is Hattie Lawson. We have no children. Since
we married after freedom there wasn't nothing unusual at our wedding.
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]
MARY LINDSAY
Age 91 yrs. Tulsa, Oklahoma.
My slavery days wasn't like most people tell you about, 'cause I was give to my young Mistress and sent away to
Texas when I was jest a little girl, and I didn't live on a big plantation a very long time.
I got an old family Bible what say I was born on September 20, in 1846, but I don't know who put de writing in
it unless it was my mammy's mistress. My mammy had de book when she die.
My mammy come out to the Indian country from Mississippi two years before I was born. She was the slave of a Chickasaw
part-breed name Sobe Love. He was the kinsfolks of Mr. Benjamin Love, and Mr. Henry Love what bring two big bunches
of the Chickasaws out from Mississippi to the Choctaw country when the Chickasaws sign up de treaty to leave Mississippi,
and the whole Love family settle 'round on the Red River below Fort Washita. There whar I was born.
My mammy say dey have a terrible hard time again the sickness when they first come out into that country, because
it was low and swampy and all full of cane brakes, and everybody have the smallpox and the malaria and fever all
the time. Lots of the Chickasaw families nearly died off.
Old Sobe Love marry her off to a slave named William, what belong to a full-blood Chickasaw man name Chick-a-lathe,
and I was one of de children.
De children belong to the owner of the mother, and me and my brother Franklin, what we called "Bruner",
was born under the name of Love and then old Master Sobe bought my pappy William, and we was all Love slaves then.
My mammy had two more girls, name Hatty and Rena.
My mammy name was Mary, and I was named after her. Old Mistress name was Lottie, and they had a daughter name Mary.
Old Master Sobe was powerful rich, and he had about a hundred slaves and four or five big pieces of that bottom
land broke out for farms. He had niggers on all the places, but didn't have no overseers, jest hisself and he went
around and seen that everybody behave and do they work right.
Old Master Sobe was a mighty big man in the tribe, and so was all his kinfolks, and they went to Fort Washita and
to Boggy Depot all the time on business, and leave the Negroes to look after old Mistress and the young daughter.
She was almost grown along about that time, when I can first remember about things.
'Cause my name was Mary, and so was my mammy's and my young Mistress' too. Old Master Sobe called me Mary-Ka-Chubbe
to show which Mary he was talking about.
Miss Mary have a black woman name Vici what wait on her all the time, and do the carding and spinning and cooking
'round the house, and Vici belong to Miss Mary. I never did go 'round the Big House, but jest stayed in the quarters
with my mammy and pappy and helped in the field a little.
Then one day Miss Mary run off with a man and married him, and old Master Sobe nearly went crazy! The man was name
Bill Merrick, and he was a poor blacksmith and didn't have two pair of britches to his name, and old Master Sobe
said he jest stole Miss Mary 'cause she was rich, and no other reason. 'Cause he was a white man and she was mostly
Chickasaw Indian.
Anyways old Master Sobe wouldn't even speak to Mr. Bill, and wouldn't let him set foot on the place. He jest reared
and pitched around, and threatened to shoot him if he set eyes on him, and Mr. Bill took Miss Mary and left out
for Texas. He set up a blacksmith shop on the big road between Bonham and Honey Grove, and lived there until he
died.
Miss Mary done took Vici along with her, and pretty soon she come back home and stay a while, and old Master Sobe
kind of soften up a little bit and give her some money to git started on, and he give her me too.
Dat jest nearly broke my old mammy's and pappy's heart, to have me took away off from them, but they couldn't say
nothing and I had to go along with Miss Mary back to Texas. When we git away from the Big House I jest cried and
cried until I couldn't hardly see, my eyes was so swole up, but Miss Mary said she gwine to be good to me.
I ask her how come Master Sobe didn't give her some of the grown boys and she say she reckon it because he didn't
want to help her husband out none, but jest wanted to help her. If he give her a man her husband have him working
in the blacksmith shop, she reckon.
Master Bill Merrick was a hard worker, and he was more sober than most the men in them days, and he never tell
me to do nothing. He jest let Miss Mary tell me what to do. They have a log house close to the shop, and a little
patch of a field at first, but after awhile he git more land, and then Miss Mary tell me and Vici we got to help
in the field too.
That sho' was hard living then! I have to git up at three o'clock sometimes so I have time to water the hosses
and slop the hogs and feed the chickens and milk the cows, and then git back to the house and git the breakfast.
That was during the times when Miss Mary was having and nursing her two children, and old Vici had to stay with
her all the time. Master Bill never did do none of that kind of work, but he had to be in the shop sometimes until
way late in the night, and sometimes before daylight, to shoe peoples hosses and oxen and fix wagons.
He never did tell me to do that work, but he never done it his own self and I had to do it if anybody do it.
He was the slowest one white man I ever did see. He jest move 'round like de dead lice falling off'n him all the
time, and everytime he go to say anything he talk so slow that when he say one word you could walk from here to
way over there before he say de next word. He don't look sick, and he was powerful strong in his arms, but he act
like he don't feel good jest the same.
I remember when the War come. Mostly by the people passing 'long the big road, we heard about it. First they was
a lot of wagons hauling farm stuff into town to sell, and then purty soon they was soldiers on the wagons, and
they was coming out into the country to git the stuff and buying it right at the place they find it.
Then purty soon they commence to be little bunches of mens in soldier clothes riding up and down the road going
somewhar. They seem like they was mostly young boys like, and they jest laughing and jollying and going on like
they was on a picnic.
Then the soldiers come 'round and got a lot of the white men and took them off to the War even iffen they didn't
want to go. Master Bill never did want to go, 'cause he had his wife and two little children, and anyways he was
gitting all the work he could do fixing wagons and shoeing hosses, with all the traffic on de road at that time.
Master Bill had jest two hosses, for him and his wife to ride and to work to the buggy, and he had one old yoke
of oxen and some more cattle. He got some kind of a paper in town and he kept it with him all the time, and when
the soldiers would come to git his hosses or his cattle he would jest draw that paper on 'em and they let 'em alone.
By and by the people got so thick on the big road that they was somebody in sight all the time. They jest keep
a dust kicked up all day and all night 'cepting when it rain, and they git all bogged down and be strung all up
and down the road camping. They kept Master Bill in the shop all the time, fixing the things they bust trying to
git the wagons out'n the mud. They was whole families of them, with they children and they slaves along, and they
was coming in from every place because the Yankees was gitting in their part of the country, they say.
We all git mighty scared about the Yankees coming but I don't reckon they ever git thar, 'cause I never seen none,
and we was right on the big road and we would of seen them. They was a whole lot more soldiers in them brown looking
jeans, round-about jackets and cotton britches a-faunching up and down the road on their hosses, though. Them hoss
soldiers would come b'iling by, going east, all day and night, and the two-three days later on they would all come
tearing by going west! Dey acted like dey didn't know whar dey gwine, but I reckon dey did.
Den Master Bill git sick. I reckon he more wore out and worried than anything else, but he go down with de fever
one day and it raining so hard Mistress and me and Vici can't neither one go nowhar to git no help.
We puts peach tree poultices on his head and wash him off all the time, until it quit raining so Mistress can go
out on de road, and then a doctor man come from one of the bunches of soldiers and see Master Bill. He say he going
be all right and jest keep him quiet, and go on.
Mistress have to tend de children and Vici have to take care of Master Bill and look after the house, and dat leave
me all by myself wid all the rest of everything around the place.
I got to feed all the stock and milk the cows and work in the field too. Dat the first time I ever try to plow,
and I nearly git killed, too! I got me a young yoke of oxens I broke to pull the wagon, 'cause Vici have to use
the old oxens to work the field. I had to take the wagon and go 'bout ten miles west to a patch of woods Master
Bill owned to git fire wood, 'cause we lived right on a flat patch of prairie, and I had to chop and haul the wood
by myself. I had to git postoak to burn in the kitchen fireplace and willow for Master Bill to make charcoal out
of to burn in his blacksmith fire.
Well, I hitch up them young oxen to the plow and they won't follow the row, and so I go git the old oxens. One
of them old oxens didn't know me and took in after me, and I couldn't hitch 'em up. And then it begins to rain
again.
After the rain was quit I git the bucket and go milk the cows, and it is time to water the hosses too, so I starts
to the house with the milk and leading one of the hosses. When I gits to the gate I drops the halter across my
arm and hooks the bucket of milk on my arm too, and starts to open the gate. The wind blow the gate wide open,
and it slap the hoss on the flank. That was when I nearly git killed!
Out the hoss go through the gate to the yard, and down the big road, and my arm all tangled up in the halter rope
and me dragging on the ground!
The first jump knock the wind out of me and I can't git loose, and that hoss drag me down the road on the run until
he meet up with a passel of soldiers and they stop him.
The next thing I knowed I was laying on the back kitchen gallery, and some soldiers was pouring water on me with
a bucket. My arm was broke, and I was stove up so bad that I have to lay down for a whole week, and Mistress and
Vici have to do all the work.
Jest as I gitting able to walk 'round here come some soldiers and say they come to git Master Bill for the War.
He still in the bed sick, and so they leave a parole paper for him to stay until he git well, and then he got to
go into Bonham and go with the soldiers to blacksmith for them that got the cannons, the man said.
Mistress take on and cry and hold onto the man's coat and beg, but it don't do no good. She say they don't belong
in Texas but they belong in the Chickasaw Nation, but he say that don't do no good, 'cause they living in Texas
now.
Master Bill jest stew and fret so, one night he fever git way up and he go off into a kind of a sleep and about
morning he died.
My broke arm begin to swell up and hurt me, and I git sick with it again, and Mistress git another doctor to come
look at it.
He say I got bad blood from it how come I git so sick, and he git out his knife out'n his satchel and bleed me
in the other arm. The next day he come back and bleed me again two times, and the next day one more time, and then
I git so sick I puke and he quit bleeding me.
While I still sick Mistress pick up and go off to the Territory to her pappy and leave the children thar for Vici
and me to look after. After while she come home for a day or two and go off again somewhere else. Then the next
time she come home she say they been having big battles in the Territory and her pappy moved all his stuff down
on the river, and she home to stay now.
We git along the best we can for a whole winter, but we nearly starve to death, and then the next spring when we
getting a little patch planted Mistress go into Bonham and come back and say we all free and the War over.
She say, "You and Vici jest as free as I am, and a lot freer, I reckon, and they say I got to pay you if you
work for me, but I ain't got no money to pay you. If you stay on with me and help me I will feed and home you and
I can weave you some good dresses if you card and spin the cotton and wool."
Well, I stayed on, 'cause I didn't have no place to go, and I carded and spinned the cotton and wool and she make
me just one dress. Vici didn't do nothing but jest wait on the children and Mistress.
Mistress go off again about a week, and when she come back I see she got some money, but she didn't give us any
of it.
After while I asked her ain't she got some money for me, and she say no, ain't she giving me a good home? Den I
starts to feeling like I aint treated right.
Every evening I git done with the work and go out in the back yard and jest stand and look off to the west towards
Bonham, and wish I was at that place or some other place.
Den along come a nigger boy and say he working for a family in Bonham and he git a dollar every week. He say Mistress
got some kinfolks in Bonham and some of Master Sobe Love's niggers living close to there.
So one night I jest put that new dress in a bundle and set foot right down the big road a-walking west, and don't
say nothing to nobody!
Its ten miles into Bonham, and I gits in town about daylight. I keeps on being afraid, 'cause I con't git it out'n
my mind I still belong to Mistress.
Purty soon some niggers tells me a nigger name Bruner Love living down west of Greenville, and I know that my brother
Franklin, 'cause we all called him Bruner. I don't remember how all I gits down to Greenville, but I know I walks
most the way, and I finds Bruner. Him and his wife working on a farm, and they say my sister Hetty and my sister
Rena what was little is living with my mammy way back up on the Red River. My pappy done died in time of the War
and I didn't know it.
Bruner taken me in a wagon and we went to my mammy, and I lived with her until she died and Hetty was married.
Then I married a boy name Henry Lindsay. His people was from Georgia and he live with them way west at Cedar Mills,
Texas. That was right close to Gordonville, on the Red River.
We live at Cedar Mills until three my children was born and then we come to the Creek Nation in 1887. My last one
was born here.
My oldest is named Georgia on account of her pappy. He was born in Georgia and that was in 1838, so his whitefolks
got a book that say. My next child was Henry. We called him William Henry, after my pappy and his pappy. Then come
Donie, and after we come here we had Madison, my youngest boy.
I lives with Henry here on this little place we got in Tulsa.
When we first come here we got some land for $15 an acre from the Creek Nation, but our papers said we can only
stay as long as it is the Creek Nation. Then in 1901 comes the allotments, and we found out our land belong to
a Creek Indian, and we have to pay him to let us stay on it. After while he makes us move off and we lose out all
around.
But my daughter Donie git a little lot, and we trade it for this place about thirty year ago, when this town was
a little place.
MRS. MATTIE LOGAN
Age 79 yrs. Route 5, West Tulsa, Oklahoma.
This is a mighty fitting time to be telling about the slave days, for I'm just finished up celebrating my seventy-nine
years of being around and the first part of my life was spent on the old John B. Lewis plantation down in old Mississippi.
Yes, sir! my birthday is just over. September 1 it was and the year was 1858. Borned on the John B. Lewis plantation
just ten mile south of Jackson in the Mississippi country. Rankin County it was.
My mother's name was Lucinda, and father's name was Levi Miles. My mother was part Indian, for her mother was a
half-blood Cherokee Indian from Virginia.
There was children a-plenty besides me. There was Sally, Julia, Hubbard, Ada, Ira, Anthony, Henry, Amanda, Mary,
John, Lucinda, Daniel and me, Mattie. That was my family.
The master's family was a large one, too. Six children was born to the Master and Mistress. Her name, his first
wife, was Jennie, the second and last was named, Louise. The children was, Rebecca, Mollie, Jennie, Susie, Silas,
and Begerlan. They kind of leaned to females.
My mother belonged to Mistress Jennie who thought a heap of her, and why shouldn't she? Mother nursed all Miss
Jennie's children because all of her young ones and my mammy's was born so close together it wasn't no trouble
at all for mammy to raise the whole kaboodle of them. I was born about the same time as the baby Jennie. They say
I nursed on one breast while that white child, Jennie, pulled away at the other!
That was a pretty good idea for the Mistress, for it didn't keep her tied to the place and she could visit around
with her friends most any time she wanted 'thout having to worry if the babies would be fed or not.
Mammy was the house girl and account of that and because her family was so large, the Mistress fixed up a two room
cabin right back of the Big House and that's where we lived. The cabin had a fireplace in one of the rooms, just
like the rest of the slave cabins which was set in a row away from the Big House. In one room was bunk beds, just
plain old two-by-fours with holes bored through the plank so's ropes could be fastened in and across for to hold
the corn-shuck mattress.
My brothers and sisters was allowed to play with the Master's children, but not with the children who belonged
to the field Negroes. We just played yard games like marbles and tossing a ball. I don't rightly remember much
about games, for there wasn't too much fun in them days even if we did get raised with the Master's family. We
wasn't allowed to learn any reading or writing. They say if they catched a slave learning them things they'd pull
his finger nails off! I never saw that done, though.
Each slave cabin had a stone fireplace in the end, just like ours, and over the flames at daybreak was prepared
the morning meal. That was the only meal the field negroes had to cook.
All the other meals was fixed up by an old man and woman who was too old for field trucking. The peas, the beans,
the turnips, the potatoes, all seasoned up with fat meats and sometimes a ham bone, was cooked in a big iron kettle
and when meal time come they all gathered around the pot for a-plenty of helpings! Corn bread and buttermilk made
up the rest of the meal.
Ten or fifteen hogs was butchered every fall and the slaves would get the skins and maybe a ham bone. That was
all, except what was mixed in with the stews. Flour was given out every Sunday morning and if a family run out
of that before the next week, well, they was just out that's all!
The slaves got small amounts of vegetables from the plantation garden, but they didn't have any gardens of their
own. Everybody took what old Master rationed out.
Once in a while we had rabbits and fish, but the best dish of all was the 'possum and sweet potatoes--baked together
over red-hot coals in the fireplace. Now, that was something to eat!
The Lewis plantation was about three hundred acres, with usually fifty slaves working on the place. Master Lewis
was a trader. He couldn't sell of our family, for we belonged to Mistress Jennie. Negro girls, the fat ones who
was kinder pretty, was the most sold. Folks wanted them pretty bad but the Mistress said there wasn't going to
be any selling of the girls who was mammy's children.
There was no overseer on our place, just the old Master who did all the bossing. He wasn't too mean, but I've seen
him whip Old John. I'd run in the house to get away from the sight, but I could still hear Old John yelling, 'Pray,
Master! Oh! Pray, Master!', but I guess that there was more howling than there was hurting at that.
My uncle Ed Miles run away to the North and joined with Yankees during the War. He was lucky to get away, for lots
of them who tried it was ketched up by the patrollers. I seen some of them once. They had chains fastened around
their legs, fastened short, too, just long enough to take a short step. No more running away with them chains anchoring
the feets!
There wasn't any negro churches close by our plantation. All the slaves who wanted religion was allowed to join
the Methodist church because that was the Mistress' church.
A doctor was called in when the slaves would get sick. He'd give pills for most all the ailments, but once in a
while, like when the children would get the whooping cough, some old negro would try to cure them with home made
remedies.
The whooping cough cure was by using a land turtle. Cut off his head and drain the blood into a cup. Then take
a lump of sugar and dip in the blood, eat the sugar and the coughing was supposed to stop. If it did or not I don't
know.
And that makes me think about another cure they use to tell about. A cure for mean overseers. And I don't mean
kill, just scare him, that's all. They say the cure was tried on an overseer who worked for Silas Stien, who was
a slave owner living close by the Lewis plantation.
It seems like this overseer was of the meanest kind, always whipping the slaves for no reason at all, and the slaves
tried to figure out a way to even up with him by chasing him off the place.
One of the slaves told how to cure him. Get a King snake and put the snake in the overseer's cabin. Slip the snake
in about, no, not about, but just exactly nine o'clock at night. Seems like the time was important, why so, I don't
remember now.
That's what the slaves did. Put in the snake and out went the overseer. Never no more did he whip the slaves on
that plantation because he wasn't working there no more! When he went, when he went, or how he went nobody knows,
but they all say he went. That's what counted--he was gone!
The Yankees didn't come around our plantation during the war. All we heard was, 'They'll kill all the slaves,'
and such hearing was a-plenty!
After the war some man come to the plantation and told the field negroes they was free. But he didn't know about
the cabin we lived in and didn't tell my folks nothing about it. They learned about the freedom from the old Master.
That was some days after the man left the place. The Master called my mother and father into the Big House and
told them they was free. Free like him. But he didn't want my folks to leave and they stayed, stayed there three
year after they was free to go anywhere they wanted.
The master paid them $200 a month to work for him and that wasn't so much if you stop to figure there was two grown
folks and thirteen children who could do plenty of work around the place.
But that money paid for an 80-acre farm my folks bought not far from the old plantation and they moved onto it
three year after the freedom come.
I think Lincoln was a mighty good man, and I think Roosevelt is trying to carry some of the good ideas Lincoln
had. Lincoln would have done a heap more if he had lived.
The young negroes who are living now are selfish and shiftless. They're not worth two cents and don't have the
respect for other folks to get along right. That's what I think.
I been married three times, but no children did I have. The first man was Frank Morris, the next was Jim White,
and the last was John Logan. All gone. Dead.
From Mississippi I come to Idabel, Oklahoma, in 1909, two year after statehood. I moved to Muskogee in 1910, staying
there while the times was good and coming to Tulsa some years ago.
I'm pretty old and can't work hard anymore, but I manage to get along. I'm glad to be free and I don't believe
I could stand them slavery days now at all.
I'm my own boss, get up when I want, go to bed the same way. Nobody to say this or that about what I do.
Yes, I'm glad to be free!
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]
KIZIAH LOVE
Age 93 Colbert, Okla.
Lawd help us, I sho' remembers all about slavery times for I was a grown woman, married and had one baby when de
War done broke out. That was a sorry time for some poor black folks but I guess Master Frank Colbert's niggers
was about as well off as the best of 'em. I can recollect things that happened way back better than I can things
that happen now. Funny ain't it?
Frank Colbert, a full blood Choctaw Indian, was my owner. He owned my mother but I don't remember much about my
father. He died when I was a little youngun. My Mistress' name was Julie Colbert. She and Master Frank was de best
folks that ever lived. All the niggers loved Master Frank and knowed jest what he wanted done and they tried their
best to do it, too.
I married Isom Love, a slave of Sam Love, another full-blood Indian that lived on a jining farm. We lived on Master
Frank's farm and Isom went back and forth to work fer his master and I worked ever day fer mine. I don't 'spect
we could of done that way iffen we hadn't of had Indian masters. They let us do a lot like we pleased jest so we
got our work done and didn't run off.
Old Master Frank never worked us hard and we had plenty of good food to eat. He never did like to put us under
white overseers and never tried it but once. A white man come through here and stopped overnight. He looked 'round
the farm and told Master Frank that he wasn't gitting half what he ought to out of his rich land. He said he could
take his bunch of hands and double his amount of corn and cotton.
Master Frank told him that he never used white overseers, that he had one nigger that bossed around some when he
didn't do it hisself. He also told the white man that he had one nigger named Bill that was kind of bad, that he
was a good worker but he didn't like to be bothered as he liked to do his own work in his own way. The white boss
told him he wouldn't have any trouble and that he could handle him all right.
Old Master hired him and things went very well for a few days. He hadn't said anything to Bill and they had got
along fine. I guess the new boss got to thinking it was time for him to take Bill in hand so one morning he told
him to hitch up another team before he caught his own team to go to work.
Uncle Bill told him that he didn't have time, that he had a lot of plowing to git done that morning and besides
it was customary for every man to catch his own team. Of course this made the overseer mad and he grabbed a stick
and started cussing and run at Uncle Bill. Old Bill grabbed a single-tree and went meeting him. Dat white man all
on a sudden turned 'round and run fer dear life and I tell you, he fairly bust old Red River wide open gitting
away from there and nobody never did see hide nor hair of him 'round to this day.
Master Colbert run a stage stand and a ferry on Red River and he didn't have much time to look after his farm and
his niggers. He had lots of land and lots of slaves. His house was a big log house, three rooms on one side and
three on the other, and there was a big open hall between them. There was a big gallery clean across the front
of the house. Behind the house was the kitchen and the smokehouse. The smokehouse was always filled with plenty
of good meat and lard. They would kill the polecat and dress it and take a sharp stick and run it up their back
jest under the flesh. They would also run one up each leg and then turn him on his back and put him on top of the
house and let him freeze all night. The next morning they'd pull the sticks out and all the scent would be on them
sticks and the cat wouldn't smell at all. They'd cook it like they did possum, bake it with taters or make dumplings.
We had plenty of salt. We got that from Grand Saline. Our coffee was made from parched meal or wheat bran. We made
it from dried sweet potatoes that had been parched, too.
One of our choicest dishes was "Tom Pashofa", an Indian dish. We'd take corn and beat it in a mortar
with a pestle. They took out the husks with a riddle and a fanner. The riddle was a kind of a sifter. When it was
beat fine enough to go through the riddle we'd put it in a pot and cook it with fresh pork or beef. We cooked our
bread in a Dutch oven or in the ashes.
When we got sick we would take butterfly root and life-everlasting and boil it and made a syrup and take it for
colds. Balmony and queen's delight boiled and mixed would make good blood medicine.
The slaves lived in log cabins scattered back of the house. He wasn't afraid they'd run off. They didn't know as
much as the slaves in the states, I reckon. But Master Frank had a half brother that was as mean as he was good.
I believe he was the meanest man the sun ever shined on. His name was Buck Colbert and he claimed he was a patroller.
He was sho' bad to whup niggers. He'd stop a nigger and ask him if he had a pass and even if they did he'd read
it and tell them they had stayed over time and he'd beat 'em most to death. He'd say they didn't have any business
off the farm and to git back there and stay there.
One time he got mad at his baby's nurse because she couldn't git the baby to stop crying and he hit her on the
head with some fire-tongs and she died. His wife got sick and she sent for me to come and take care of her baby.
I sho' didn't want to go and I begged so hard for them not to make me that they sent an older woman who had a baby
of her own so she could nurse the baby if necessary.
In the night the baby woke up and got to crying and Master Buck called the woman and told her to git him quiet.
She was sleepy and was sort of slow and this made Buck mad and he made her strip her clothes off to her waist and
he began to whip her. His wife tried to git him to quit and he told her he'd beat her iffen she didn't shut up.
Sick as as she was she slipped off and went to Master Frank's and woke him up and got him to go and make Buck quit
whipping her. He had beat her so that she was cut up so bad she couldn't nurse her own baby any more.
Master Buck kept on being bad till one day he got mad at one of his own brothers and killed him. This made another
one of his brothers mad and he went to his house and killed him. Everybody was glad that Buck was dead.
We had lots of visitors. They'd stop at the stage inn that we kept. One morning I was cleaning the rooms and I
found a piece of money in the bed where two men had slept. I thought it was a dime and I showed it to my mammy
and she told me it was a five dollar piece. I sho' was happy fer I had been wanting some hoops fer my skirts like
Misstress had so Mammy said she would keep my money 'til I could send fer the hoops. My brother got my money from
my mammy and I didn't git my hoops fer a long time. Miss Julie give me some later.
When me and my husband got married we built us a log cabin about half-way from Master Frank's house and Master
Sam Love's house. I would go to work at Master Frank's and Isom would go to work at Mister Sam's. One day I was
at home with jest my baby and a runner come by and said the Yankee soldiers was coming. I looked 'round and I knowed
they would git my chickens. I had 'em in a pen right close to the house to keep the varmints from gitting 'em so
I decided to take up the boards in the floor and put 'em in there as the wall logs come to the ground and they
couldn't git out. By the time I got my chickens under the floor and the house locked tight the soldiers had got
so close I could hear their bugles blowing so I jest fairly flew over to old Master's house. Them Yankees clumb
down the chimbley and got every one of my chickens and they killed about fifteen of Master Frank's hogs. He went
down to their camp and told the captain about it and he paid him for his hogs and sent me some money for my chickens.
We went to church all the time. We had both white and colored preachers. Master Frank wasn't a Christian but he
would help build brush-arbors fer us to have church under and we sho' would have big meetings I'll tell you.
One day Master Frank was going through the woods close to where niggers was having church. All on a sudden he started
running and beating hisself and hollering and the niggers all went to shouting and saying "Thank the Lawd,
Master Frank has done come through!" Master Frank after a minute say, "Yes, through the worst of 'em."
He had run into a yellow jacket's nest.
One night my old man's master sent him to Sherman, Texas. He aimed to come back that night so I stayed at home
with jest my baby. It went to sleep so I set down on the steps to wait and ever minute I thought I could hear Isom
coming through the woods. All a sudden I heard a scream that fairly made my hair stand up. My dog that was laying
out in the yard give a low growl and come and set down right by me. He kept growling real low.
Directly, right close to the house I heard that scream again. It sounded like a woman in mortal misery. I run into
the house and made the dog stay outside. I locked the door and then thought what must I do. Supposing Isom did
come home now and should meet that awful thing? I heard it again. It wasn't more'n a hundred yards from the house.
The dog scratched on the door but I dassent open it to let him in. I knowed by this time that it was a panther
screaming. I turned my table over and put it against the opening of the fireplace. I didn't aim fer that thing
to come down the chimbley and git us.
Purty soon I heard it again a little mite further away--it was going on by. I heard a gun fire. Thank God, I said,
somebody else heard it and was shooting at it. I set there on the side of my bed fer the rest of the night with
my baby in my arms and praying that Isom wouldn't come home. He didn't come till about nine o'clock the next morning
and I was that glad to see him that I jest cried and cried.
I ain't never seen many sperits but I've seen a few. One day I was laying on my bed here by myself. My son Ed was
cutting wood. I'd been awful sick and I was powerful weak. I heard somebody walking real light like they was barefooted.
I said, "Who's dat?"
He catch hold of my hand and he has the littlest hand I ever seen, and he say, "You been mighty sick and I
want you to come and go with me to Sherman to see a doctor."
I say, "I ain't got nobody at Sherman what knows me."
He say, "You'd better come and go with me anyway."
I jest lay there fer a minute and didn't say nothing and purty soon he say, "Have you got any water?"
I told him the water was on the porch and he got up and went outside and I set in to calling Ed. He come hurrying
and I asked him why he didn't lock the door when he went out and I told him to go see if he could see the little
man and find out what he wanted. He went out and looked everywhere but he couldn't find him nor he couldn't even
find his tracks.
I always keep a butcher-knife near me but it was between the mattress and the feather bed and I couldn't get to
it. I don't guess it would have done any good though fer I guess it was jest a sperit.
The funniest thing that ever happened to me was when I was a real young gal. Master and Miss Julie was going to
see one of his sisters that was sick. I went along to take care of the baby fer Miss Julie. The baby was about
a year old. I had a bag of clothes and the baby to carry. I was riding a pacing mule and it was plumb gentle. I
was riding along behind Master Frank and Miss Julie and I went to sleep. I lost the bag of clothes and never missed
it. Purty soon I let the baby slip out of my lap and I don't know how far I went before I nearly fell off myself
and jest think how I felt when I missed that baby! I turned around and went back and found the baby setting in
the trail sort of crying. He wasn't hurt a mite as he fell in the grass. I got off the mule and picked him up and
had to look fer a log so I could get back on again.
Jest as I got back on Master Frank rode up. He had missed me and come back to see what was wrong. I told him that
I had lost the bag of clothes but I didn't say anything about losing the baby. We never did find the clothes and
I sho' kept awake the rest of the way. I wasn't going to risk losing that precious baby again! I guess the reason
he didn't cry much was because he was a Indian baby. He was sho' a sweet baby though.
Jest before the War people would come through the Territory stealing niggers and selling 'em in the states. Us
women dassent git fur from the house. We wouldn't even go to the spring if we happened to see a strange wagon or
horsebacker. One of Master Sam Love's women was stole and sold down in Texas. After freedom she made her way back
to her fambly. Master Frank sent one of my brothers to Sherman on an errand. After several days the mule come back
but we never did see my brother again. We didn't know whether he run off or was stole and sold.
I was glad to be free. What did I do and say? Well, I jest clapped my hands together and said, "Thank God
Almighty, I'se free at last!"
I live on the forty acres that the government give me. I have been blind for nine years and don't git off my bed
much. I live here with my son, Ed. Isom has been dead for over forty years. I had fifteen children, but only ten
of them are living.
DANIEL WILLIAM LUCAS
Age 94 yrs. Red Bird, Okla.
I remember them slave days well as it was yesterday, and when I get to remembering the very first thing comes back
to me is the little log cabin where at I lived when I was a slave boy back 'fore the War.
Just like yesterday--I see that little old cabin standing on a bit of hill about a quarter-mile from the Master's
brick mansion, and I see into the cabin and there's the old home-made bed with rope cords a-holding up the corn
shuck bedding where on I use to sleep after putting in the day at hoeing cotton or following a slow time mule team
down the corn rows 'till it got so dark the old overseer just naturally had to call it a day.
And then I see the old baker swinging in the fireplace. That cooked up the corn pone to go with the fat side meats
the Master Doctor (didn't I tell you the Master was a doctor?) give us for the meals of the week day. But on a
Sunday morning we always had flour bread, excepting after the War is over and then we is lucky do we get anything.
Just like yesterday--I hear the old overseer making round of the cabins every day at four, and I means in the morning,
too, when the night sleep is the best, and the folkses tumbling out of the door getting ready for the fields.
All the mens dressed about the same. Just like me. Wearing the grey jeans with the blue shirt stuck in loose around
the belt, brogan shoes that feels like brakes on the feet about the hot time of day when the old sun's a-grinning
down like he was saying: "work, niggers, work!" And the overseer is saying the same thing, only we pays
more attention to him 'cause of the whip he shakes around when the going gets kinder slow down the row.
Now I sees them getting ready for the slave auction. Many of 'em there was. The Master Doctor done owned about
two hundred slaves and sometimes he sell some for to beat the bad crops.
There they'd stand on the wooden blocks, their faces greased and shiny, their arms and bodies pretty well greased
too; seemed like they looked better and stronger that way, maybe some other reason, I dunno. And when the auction
was over lots of the slaves would try to figger out when would the next one be and worry some afraid they'd be
standing up there waiting for the buyers to punch and slap to see is they sound of limb and able to do the days
work without loafing down the rows.
There's the old white preacher who tried to tell the slaves about the Lord. He had a mighty hard job sometimes,
'cause of the teaching was hard to understand. And then--then he'd just seem to be riled with anger and lay down
the law of the Lord between cuss-words that all the slaves could understand. So finally I guess everybody was religionized
even it was cussed into 'em right from the pulpit!
That old preacher always makes me think of haunts, 'cause every evening when I drive up the cows for milking, there's
a old, old log cabin right on the way that I pass every night--and it's so haunted won't nobody pass it after the
darkness covers in the daylight.
I didn't always get by 'fore then, and the sounds I hear! Like they was people inside jumping and knocking on the
floor, maybe they was dancing, I dunno. But they was a light in the big room. Wasn't the moon a-shining through
the windows either, 'cause sometimes I would stop at the gate and say HELLO, then out go the light and the noises
would stop quick, like them haunts was a-scairt as me--and then, then I run like the old preacher's Devil is after
me with all his forks.
Then along come the War. The slaves would go around from cabin to cabin telling each other about how mean and cruel
was the master or the overseer, and maybe some of them would make for the North. They was the unlucky ones, 'cause
lots of times they was caught.
And when the patrollers get 'em caught, they was due for a heavy licking that would last for a long time.
The slaves didn't know how to travel. The way would be marked when they'd start North, but somehow they'd get lost,
'cause they didn't know one direction from another, they was so scairt.
Just like yesterday--I remember the close of the War. Nothing exciting about it down on the plantation. Just the
old overseer come around and say:
"The Yankees has whipped the Rebels and the War is over. But the Old Master don't want you to leave. He just
wants you to stay right on here where at is your home. That's what the Master say is best for you to do."
That's what I do, but some of them other slaves is kinder filled up with the idea of freedom and wants to find
out is it good or bad, so they leave and scatter round.
But I stays, and the Master Doctor he pays me ten dollars every month, gives me board and my sleeping place just
like always, and when I gets sick there he is with the herb medicine for my ailment and I is well again.
It's long after the War before I leaves the old place. And that's when I gets married in 1885. That was my first
licensed wife and we is married in Holly Springs. Her name was Josephine and we has maybe eight-ten children, I
dunno.
And I is thankful they ain't none of my children born slaves and have to remember all them terrible days when we
was ruled by the whip--like I remember it, just like it was yesterday.
[Date stamp: AUG 19 1937]
BERT LUSTER
Age 85 yrs. Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
I'll be jest frank, I'm not for sho' when I was born, but it was in 1853. Don't know the month, but I was sho'
born in 1853 in Watson County, Tennessee. You see my father was owned by Master Luster and my mother was owned
by Masters Joe and Bill Asterns (father and son). I can remember when Master Astern moved from Watson County, Tennessee
he brought me and my mother with him to Barnum County Seat, Texas. Master Astern owned about twelve slaves, and
dey was all Astern 'cept Miriah Elmore's son Jim. He owned 'bout five or six hundred acres of ground, and de slaves
raised and shucked all de corn and picked all de cotton. De whites folks lived in a big double log house and we
slaves lived in log cabins. Our white folks fed us darkies! We ate nearly ever'thing dey ate. Dey ate turkey, chickens,
ducks, geese, fish and we killed beef, pork, rabbits and deer. Yes, and possums too. And whenever we killed beef
we tanned the hide and dere was a white man who made shoes for de white folks and us darkies. I tell you I'm not
gonna lie, dem white folks was good to us darkies. We didn't have no mean overseer. Master Astern and his son jest
told us niggers what to do and we did it, but 50 miles away dem niggers had a mean overseer, and dey called him
"poor white trash", "old whooser", and sometime "old red neck", and he would sho'
beat 'em turrible iffen dey didn't do jest like he wanted 'em to.
Seem like I can hear dem "nigger hounds" barking now. You see whenever a darky would get a permit to
go off and wouldn't come back dey would put de "nigger hounds" on his trail and run dat nigger down.
De white women wove and spin our clothes. You know dey had looms, spins, and weavers. Us darkies would stay up
all night sometime sep'rating cotton from the seed. When dem old darkies got sleepy dey would prop their eyes open
wid straws.
Sho', we wore very fine clothes for dem days. You know dey dyed the cloth with poke berries.
We cradled de wheat on pins, caught the grain, carried it to de mill and had it ground. Sho', I ate biscuits and
cornbread too. Keep telling you dat we ate.
We got de very best of care when we got sick. Don't you let nobody tell you dem white folks tried to kill out dem
darkies 'cause when a darkey took sick dey would send and git de very best doctors round dat country. Dey would
give us ice water when we got sick. You see we put up ice in saw dust in winter and when a slave got sick dey give
him ice water, sometimes sage tea and chicken gruel. Dey wanted to keep dem darkies fat so dey could git top price
for 'em. I never saw a slave sold, but my half brother's white folks let him work and buy hisself.
I was about 14, and I milked the cows, packed water, seeded cotton, churned milk up at de Big House and jest first
one chore and den another. My mother cooked up at de Big House.
Dey was a lot of talk 'bout conjure but I didn't believe in it. Course dem darkies could do everything to one another,
and have one another scared, but dey couldn't conjure dat overseer and stop him from beating 'em near to death.
Course he didn't flog 'em till dey done sumping.
I married my woman, Nannie Wilkerson, 58 years ago. Dat was after slavery, and I love her, honest to God I does.
Course in dem days we didn't buy no license, we jest got permits from old Master and jumped over a broom stick
and jest got married.
I sho' did hate when de Yanks come 'cause our white folks was good to us, and jest take us right along to church
with 'em. We didn't work on Sad'days or Christmas.
We raised gardens, truck patches and such for spending change.
I sho' caught hell after dem Yanks come. Befo' de war, you see de patroller rode all nite but wouldn't bother a
darkey iffen he wouldn't run off. Why dem darkeys would run off I jest couldn't see.
Dose Yanks treated old master and mistress so mean. Dey took all his hams, chickens, and drove his cattle out of
the pasture, but didn't bother us niggers honest. Dey drove old master Aster off'n his own plantation and we all
hid in de corn field.
My mother took me to Greenville, Texas, 'cause my step-pappy was one of dem half smart niggers round dere trying
to preach and de Ku Klux Klan beat him half to death.
Dere was some white folks who would take us to church wid 'em--dis dis [TR: sic] was aftah the war now--and one
night we was all sitting up thar and one old woman with one leg was dah and when dem Klans shot in amongst us niggers
and white folks aunt Mandy beat all of us home. Yes suh.
My first two teachers was two white men, and dem Klans shot in de hotel what dey lived in, but dey had school for
us niggers jest de same. After dat, dose Klans got so bad Uncle Sam sent soljers down dere to keep peace.
After de soljers come and run de Klans out we worked hard dat fall and made good crops. 'Bout three years later
I came to Indian Territory in search of educating my kids.
I landed here 46 years ago on a farm not far from now Oklahoma City. I got to be a prosperous farmer. My bale of
cotton amongst 5,000 bales won the blue ribbon at Guthrie, Oklahoma, and dat bale of cotton and being a good democrat
won for me a good job as a clerk on the Agriculture Board at the State Capitol. All de white folks liked me and
still like me and called me "cotton king."
I have jest three chillun living. Walter is parcel post clerk here at de post office downtown. Delia Jenkins, my
daughter is a housewife and Cleo Luckett, my other daughter, a common laborer.
Have been a christian 20 years. Jest got sorry for my wicked ways. I am a member of the Church of God. My wife
is a member of the Church of Christ. I'm a good democrat and she is a good republican.
My fav'rite songs is: "Dark Was the Nite, and Cold the Ground" and "Couldn't Hear Nobody Pray."
I'm glad slavery is over, but I don't think dem white folks was fighting to free us niggers. God freed us. Of course,
Abraham Lincoln was a pretty fine man. Don't know much about Jeff Davis. Never seen him. Yes, and Booker T. Washington.
He was one of the Negro leaders. The first Negro to represent the Negroes in Washington. He was a great leader.
During slavery time never heerd of a cullud man committing 'sault on a white woman. The white and cullud all went
to church together too. Niggers and white shouted alike.
I remember some of the little games we played now: "Fox in the wall", "Mollie, Mollie Bride",
and "Hide and go seek."
[Date stamp: AUG 19 1937]
STEPHEN McCRAY
Age 88 yrs. Oklahoma City, Okla.
I was born in Huntsville County, Alabama, right where the Scottsboro boys was in jail, in 1850.
My parents was Wash and Winnie McCray. They was the mother and father of 22 chillun. Jest five lived to be grown
and the rest died at baby age. My father's mother and father was named Mandy and Peter McCray, and my mother's
mother and father was Ruthie and Charlie McCray. They all had the same Master, Mister McCray, all the way thoo'.
We live in log huts and when I left home grown, I left my folks living in the same log huts. Beds was put together
with ropes and called rope beds. No springs was ever heard of by white or cullud as I knows of.
All the work I ever done was pick up chips for my grandma to cook with. I was kept busy doing this all day.
The big boys went out and got rabbits, possums and fish. I would sho' lak to be in old Alabama fishing, 'cause
I am a fisherman. There is sho' some pretty water in Alabama and as swift as cars run here. Water so clear and
blue you can see the fish way down, and dey wouldn't bite to save your life.
Slaves had their own gardens. All got Friday and Sadday to work in garden during garden time. I liked cornbread
best and I'd give a dollar to git some of the bread we had on those good old days and I ain't joking. I went in
shirt tail all the time. Never had on no pants 'til I was 15 years old. No shoes, 'cept two or three winters. Never
had a hat 'til I was a great big boy.
Marriage was performed by getting permission from Master and go where the woman of your choice had prepared the
bed, undress and flat-footed jump a broom-stick together into the bed.
Master had a brick house for hisself and the overseer. They was the only ones on the place. The overseer woke up
the slaves all the way from 2 o'clock till 4 o'clock of mornings. He wasn't nothing but white trash. Nothing else
in the world but that. They worked till they couldn't see how to work. I jest couldn't jedge the size of that big
place, and there was a mess of slaves, not less'n three hundred.
I doesn't have no eggycation, edgecation, or ejecation, and about all I can do is spell. I jest spell till I get
the pronouncements.
We had church, but iffen the white folks caught you at it, you was beat most nigh to death. We used a big pot turned
down to keep our voices down. When we went to hear white preachers, he would say, "Obey your master and mistress."
I am a hard shell-flint Baptist. I was baptised in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. Our baptizing song was mostly "On
Jordan's Stormy Banks I Stand" and our funeral song was "Hark From The Tomb."
We had some slaves who would try to run off to the North but the white folks would catch 'em with blood hounds
and beat 'em to death. Them patrollers done their work mostly at night. One night I was sleeping on cotton and
the patrollers come to our house and ask for water. Happen we had plenty. They drunk a whole lot and got warm and
told my father to be a good nigger and they wouldn't bother him at all. They raided till General Grant come thoo'.
He sent troops out looking for Klu Klux Klanners and killed 'em jest lak killing black birds. General Grant was
one of the men that caused us to set heah free today and able to talk together without being killed.
I didn't and don't believe in no conjure. No sensible person do either. We had a doctor on the place. Ever master
had a doctor who waited on his slaves, but we wore asafetida or onion 'round our necks to keep off diseases. A
dime was put 'round a teething baby's neck to make it tooth easy, and it sho' helped too. But today all folks done
got 'bove that.
The old folks talked very little of freedom and the chillun knew nothing at all of it, and that they heard they
was daresome to mention it.
Bushwhacker, nothing but poor white trash, come thoo' and killed all the little nigger chillun they could lay hands
on. I was hid under the house with a big rag on my mouf many a time. Them Klu Klux after slavery sho' got enough
from them soldiers to last 'em.
I was married to Kan Pry in 1884. Two chillun was born. The girl is living and the boy might be, but I don't know.
My daughter works out in service.
I wish Lincoln was here now. He done more for the black face than any one in that seat. Old Jeff Davis kept slavery
up till General Grant met him at the battle. Lincoln sho' snowed him under. General Grant put fire under him jest
lak I'm fixing to do my pipe. Booker T. Washington was jest all right.
Every time I think of slavery and if it done the race any good, I think of the story of the coon and dog who met.
The coon said to the dog "Why is it you're so fat and I am so poor, and we is both animals?" The dog
said: "I lay round Master's house and let him kick me and he gives me a piece of bread right on." Said
the coon to the dog: "Better then that I stay poor." Them's my sentiment. I'm lak the coon, I don't believe
in 'buse.
I used to be the most wicked man in the world but a voice converted me by saying, "Friend, friend, why is
you better to everybody else than you is to your self? You are sending your soul to hell." And from that day
I lived like a Christian. People here don't live right and I don't lak to 'tend church. I base my Christian life
on: "Believe in me, trust my work and you shall be saved, for I am God and beside me there is no other."
HANNAH McFARLAND
Age 85 yrs. Oklahoma City, Okla.
I was born in Georgetown, South Carolina, February 29, 1853. My father was name James Gainey and my mother was
name Katie Gainey. There was three chillun born to my folks doing slavery. My father was a free man, but my mother
was de slave of the Sampsons, some Jews. My father was de richest Negro in South Carolina doing this time. He bought
all three of we chillun for $1,000 apiece, but dem Jews jest wouldn't sell mamma. Dey was mighty sweet to her.
She come home ever night and stayed with us. Doing the day a Virginian nigger woman stayed with us and she sho'
was mean to we chillun. She used to beat us sumpin' terrible. You know Virginia people is mean to cullud people.
My father bought her from some white folks too.
We lived in town and in a good house.
It was a good deal of confusion doing de War. I waited on the Yankees. Dey captured mamma's white people's house.
Dey tried to git mamma to tell dem jest whut de white folks done done to her and all she could say was dey was
good to her. Shucks, dey wouldn't sell her. She jest told them she had a free husband.
My father was a blockader. He run rafts from one place to another and sho' made a lot of money. He was drowned
while doing this while I was a good size child.
Dem patrollers tied you to a whipping post iffen dey caught you out after 10 o'clock. They 'tempted to do my mother
that way, but my papa sho' stopped dat. I can't say I lak white people even now, 'cause dey done done so much agin
us.
I was free, but I couldn't go to school, 'cause we didn't had none. I been in Oklahoma over 40 years. Have done
some traveling and could go some whar else, but I jest stays here 'cause I ain't got no desire to travel.
All we ever wore to keep off diseases was asafetida, nothing else.
I done heard more 'bout conjure in Oklahoma than I ever heerd in South Carolina. All dat stuff is in Louisiana.
I didn't heah nothing 'bout the Klu Klux Klan till I come to Oklahoma neither. More devilment in Oklahoma than
any place I know. South got more religion too. I jest as soon be back with the Rebels.
Bushwhackers whipped you iffen you stayed out late, and sho' nuff if dey didn't lak you.
I felt sorry for Jeff Davis when the Yankees drilled him through the streets. I saw it all. I said, "Mama,
Mama, look, dey got old Jeff Davis." She said, "Be quiet, dey'll lynch you." She didn't know no
better! She was a old slave nigger. I showed the Yankees where the white folks hid their silver and money and jewelry,
and Mamma sho' whipped me about it too. She was no fool 'bout slavery. Slavery sho' didn't he'p us none to my belief.
I didn't care much 'bout Lincoln. It was nice of him to free us, but 'course he didn't want to.
The overseer was sho' nothing but poor white trash, the kind who didn't lak niggers and dey still don't, old devils.
Don't let 'em fool you, dey don't lak a nigger a'tall.
I'm a Methodist. People ought to praise God 'cause he done done so much for dese sinners. Dey was heap more religious
in my early days. I jined church in 1863. I jined the Holiness so I could git baptized and the Methodist wouldn't
baptize you. After my baptism, I went back to the Methodist Church. You know my pastor, Reverend Miller, is the
first Methodist preacher I ever knowed that was baptized, and that baptizes everybody.
I was married in Akin, South Carolina to Andrew Pew. We had 12 chillun. Jest one boy is my only living child today.
MARSHALL MACK
Age 83 yrs. Oklahoma City, Okla.
I was born September 10, 1854. I am the second child of five. My mother was named Sylvestus Mack and my father
Booker Huddleston. I do not remember my mother's master, 'cause he died before I was born. My Mistress was named
Nancy Mack. She was the mother of six children, four boys and two girls. Three of dem boys went to the War and
one packed and went off somewhar and nobody heard from him doing of the whole War. But soon as the War was over
he come home and he never told whar he had been.
I never saw but one grown person flogged during slavery and dat was my mother. The younger son of my mistress whipped
her one morning in de kitchen. His name was Jack. De slaves on Mistress' place was treated so good, all de people
round and 'bout called us "Mack's Free Niggers." Dis was 14 miles northwest of Liberty, county seat of
Bedford County, Virginia.
One day while de War was going on, my Mistress got a letter from her son Jim wid jest one line. Dat was "Mother:
Jack's brains spattered on my gun this morning." That was all he written.
Jack Huddleston owned my father, who was his half-brother, and he was the meanest man I ever seen. He flogged my
father with tobacco sticks and my mother after these floggings (which I never seen) had to pick splinters out of
his back. My father had to slip off a night to come and visit us. He lived a mile and a half from our house on
the south side of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and it sho' is a rocky country. He'd oversleep hisself and git up running.
We would stand in our door and hear him running over them rocks til he got home. He was trying to git dere before
his master called him.
It was a law among the slave-holders that if you left your master's place, you had to have a pass, for if the patroller
caught you without one, he would give you 9 and 30 lashes and carry you to your master, and if he was mean, you
got the same again!
On the 3-foot fireplace my mother and father cooked ash cakes and my father having to run to work, had to wash
his cakes off in a spring betwixt our house and his. My mother was the cook in the Big House.
All the time we would see "nigger traders" coming through the country. I have seen men and women cuffed
to 60-foot chains being took to Lynchburg, Va., to the block to be sold. Now I am talking 'bout what I know, for
it would not mean one thing for me to lie. I ain't jest heard dis. My uncle John was a carpenter and always took
Mistress' chillun to school in a two-horse surrey. On sech trips, the chillun learned my uncle to read and write.
Dey slipped and done this, for it was a law among slave-holders that a slave not be caught wid a book.
One morning when I was on my way to de mill with a sack of corn, I had to go down de main pike. I saw sech a fog
'til I rid close enough to see what was gwine on. I heard someone say "close up." I was told since dat
it was Hood's Raid. They took every slave that could carry a gun. It was at dis time, Negroes went into de service.
Lee was whipping Grant two battles to one 'til them raids, and den Grant whipped Lee two battles to one, 'cause
he had Negroes in the Union Army. Dey took Negroes and all de white people's food. Dey killed chickens and picked
dem on horseback. I never will forgit that time long as I live.
Ever day I had to get the mail for three families. I carried it around in a bag and each family took his'n out.
I guess I was one of the first Negro mailmen.
We had church on the place and had right good meetings. Everybody went and took part in the service. We had to
have passes to go off the place to the meetings.
The children wore just one garment from this time of year (spring) till the frost fell. Mistress' daughters made
dese. We sure kept healthy and fat.
I will be 83 years of age September 10, 1937 and am enjoying my second eyesight. I could not see a thing hardly
for some few years, but now I can read sometimes without glasses. I keep my lawn in first class shape and work
all the time. I think this is 'cause I never was treated bad during slavery.
[Date stamp: AUG 19 1937]
ALLEN V. MANNING
Age 87 Tulsa, Okla.
I always been somewhar in the South, mostly in Texas when I was a young man, and of course us Negroes never got
much of a show in court matters, but I reckon if I had of had the chance to set on a jury I would of made a mighty
poor out at it.
No sir, I jest can't set in judgement on nobody, 'cause I learned when I was jest a little boy that good people
and bad people--makes no difference which--jest keep on living and doing like they been taught, and I jest can't
seem to blame them none for what they do iffen they been taught that way.
I was born in slavery, and I belonged to a Baptist preacher. Until I was fifteen years old I was taught that I
was his own chattel-property, and he could do with me like he wanted to, but he had been taught that way too, and
we both believed it. I never did hold nothing against him for being hard on Negroes sometimes, and I don't think
I ever would of had any trouble even if I had of growed up and died in slavery.
The young Negroes don't know nothing 'bout that today, and lots of them are rising up and amounting to something,
and all us Negroes is proud of them. You see, it's because they been taught that they got as good a show to be
something as anybody, if they tries hard.
Well, this old Negro knows one thing: they getting somewheres 'cause the young whitefolks is letting them and helping
them to do it, 'cause the whitefolks has been taught the same way, and I praise God its getting to be that way,
too. But it all go to show, people do like they been taught to do.
Like I say, my master was a preacher and a kind man, but he treated the Negroes jest like they treated him. He
been taught that they was jest like his work hosses, and if they act like they his work hosses they git along all
right. But if they don't--Oh, oh!
Like the Dixie song say, I was born "on a frosty mornin'" at the plantation in Clarke County, Mississippi,
in the fall of 1850 they tell me. The old place looked the same all the time I was a child, clean up to when we
pull out and leave the second year of the War.
I can shet my eyes and think about it and it seem to come right up in front of me jest like it looked. From my
Pappy's cabin the Big House was off to the west, close to the big road, and most of the fields stretched off to
the north. They was a big patch of woods off to the east, and no much open land between us and the Chickasawhay
River. Off to the southwest a few miles was the Bucatunna Creek, and the plantation was kind of in the forks between
them, a little ways east of Quitman, Mississippi.
Old Master's people been living at that place a mighty long time, and most the houses and barns was old and been
repaired time and time again, but it was a mighty pretty place. The Big House was built long, with a lot of rooms
all in a row and a long porch, but it wasn't fine like a lot of the houses we seen as we passed by when we left
that place to go to Louisiana.
Old Master didn't have any overseer hired, but him and his boys looked after the place and had a Negro we called
the driver. We-all shore hated that old black man, but I forget his name now. That driver never was allowed to
think up nothing for the slaves to do, but jest was told to make them work hard at what the master and his boys
told them to do. Whitefolks had to set them at a job and then old driver would whoopity and whoopity around, and
egg them and egg them until they finish up, so they can go at something else. He worked hard hisself, though, and
set a mighty hard pattern for the rest to keep up with. Like I say, he been taught he didn't know how to think,
so he didn't try.
Old Mistress name was Mary, and they had two daughters, Levia and Betty. Then they had three sons. The oldest was
named Bill Junior, and he was plumb grown when I was a boy, but the other two, Jedson and Jim, was jest a little
older then me.
Old Master didn't have but two or three single Negroes, but he had several families, and most of them was big ones.
My own family was pretty good size, but three of the children was born free. Pappy's name was William and Mammy's
was Lucy. My brother Joe was the oldest child and then come Adeline, Harriet, and Texana and Betty before the surrender,
and then Henry, Mattie and Louisa after it.
When the War come along old Master jest didn't know what to do. He always been taught not to raise his hand up
and kill nobody--no matter how come--and he jest kept holding out against all them that was talking about fighting,
and he wouldn't go and fight. He been taught that it was all right to have slaves and treat them like he want to,
but he been taught it was sinful to go fight and kill to keep them, and he lived up to what he been taught.
They was some Choctaw people lived 'round there, and they flew up and went right off to the War, and Mr. Trot Hand
and Mr. Joe Brown that had plantations on the big road towards Quitman both went off with their grown boys right
at the start, but old Master was a preacher and he jest stayed out of it. I remember one day I was sent up to the
Big House and I heard old Master and some men out at the gate 'xpounding about the War. Some of the men had on
soldier clothes, and they acted like they was mad. Somebody tell me later on that they was getting up a home guard
because the yankees done got down in Alabama not far away, but old Master wouldn't go in with them.
Two, three days after that, it seems like, old Master come down to the quarters and say git everything bundled
up and in the wagons for a long trip. The Negroes all come in and everybody pitch in to help pack up the wagons.
Then old Master look around and he can't find Andy. Andy was one Negro that never did act like he been taught,
and old Master's patience about wore out with him anyways.
We all know that Andy done run off again, but we didn't know where to. Leastwise all the Negroes tell old Master
that. But old Master soon show us we done the work and he done the thinking! He jest goes ahead and keeps all the
Negroes busy fixing up the wagons and bundling up the stuff to travel, and keeps us all in his sight all the time,
and says nothing about Andy being gone.
Then that night he sends for a white man name Clements that got some blood hounds, and him and Mr. Clements takes
time about staying awake and watching all the cabins to see nobody slips out of them. Everybody was afraid to stick
their head out.
Early next morning we has all the wagons ready to drive right off, and old Master call Andy's brother up to him.
He say, "You go down to that spring and wait, and when Andy come down to the spring to fill that cedar bucket
you stole out'n the smokehouse for him to git water in you tell him to come on in here. Tell him I know he is hiding
out way down the branch whar he can come up wading the water clean up to the cornfield and the melon patch, so
the hounds won't git his scent, but I'm going to send the hounds down there if he don't come on in right now."
Then we all knowed we was for the work and old Master was for the thinking, 'cause pretty soon Andy come on in.
He'd been right whar old Master think he is.
About that time Mr. Sears come riding down the big road. He was a deacon in old Master's church, and he see us
all packed up to leave and so he light at the big gate and walk up to whar we is. He ask old Master where we all
lighting out for, and old Master say for Louisiana. We Negroes don't know where that is. Then old deacon say what
old Master going to do with Andy, 'cause there stood Mr. Clements holding his bloodhounds and old Master had his
cat-o-nine-tails in his hand.
Old Master say just watch him, and he tell Andy if he can make it to that big black gum tree down at the gate before
the hounds git him he can stay right up in that tree and watch us all drive off. Then he tell Andy to git!
Poor Andy jest git hold of the bottom limbs when the blood hounds grab him and pull him down onto the ground. Time
old Master and Mr. Clements git down there the hounds done tore off all Andy's clothes and bit him all over bad.
He was rolling on the ground and holding his shirt up 'round his throat when Mr. Clements git there and pull the
hounds off of him.
Then old Master light in on him with that cat-o-nine-tails, and I don't know how many lashes he give him, but he
jest bloody all over and done fainted pretty soon. Old Deacon Sears stand it as long as he can and then he step
up and grab old Master's arm and say, "Time to stop, Brother! I'm speaking in the name of Jesus!" Old
Master quit then, but he still powerful mad. I don't think he believe Andy going to make that tree when he tell
him that.
Then he turn on Andy's brother and give him a good beating too, and we all drive off and leave Andy setting on
the ground under a tree and old Deacon standing by him. I don't know what ever become of Andy, but I reckon maybe
he went and live with old Deacon Sears until he was free.
When I think back and remember it, it all seems kind of strange, but it seem like old Master and old Deacon both
think the same way. They kind of understand that old Master had a right to beat his Negro all he wanted to for
running off, and he had a right to set the hounds on him if he did, but he shouldn't of beat him so hard after
he told him he was going let him off if he made the tree, and he ought to keep his word even if Andy was his own
slave. That's the way both them white men had been taught, and that was the way they both lived.
Old Master had about five wagons on that trip down into Louisiana, but they was all full of stuff and only the
old slaves and children could ride in them. I was big enough to walk most of the time, but one time I walked in
the sun so long that I got sick and they put me in the wagon for most the rest of the way.
We would come to places where the people said the Yankees had been and gone, but we didn't run into any Yankees.
They was most to the north of us I reckon, because we went on down to the south part of Mississippi and ferried
across the big river at Baton Rouge. Then we went on to Lafayette, Louisiana, before we settled down anywhere.
All us Negroes thought that was a mighty strange place. We would hear white folks talking and we couldn't understand
what they said, and lots of the Negroes talked the same way, too. It was all full of French people around Lafayette,
but they had all their menfolks in the Confederate Army just the same. I seen lots of men in butternut clothes
coming and going hither and yon, but they wasn't in bunches. They was mostly coming home to see their folks.
Everybody was scared all the time, and two--three times when old Master hired his Negroes out to work the man that
hired them quit his place and went on west before they got the crop in. But old Master got a place and we put in
a cotton crop, and I think he got some money by selling his place in Mississippi. Anyway, pretty soon after the
cotton was all in he moves again and goes to a place on Simonette Lake for the winter. It aint a bit cold in that
place, and we didn't have no fire 'cepting to cook, and sometimes a little charcoal fire in some crock pots that
the people left on the place when they went on out to Texas.
The next spring old Master loaded up again and we struck out for Texas, when the Yankees got too close again. But
Master Bill didn't go to Texas, because the Confederates done come that winter and made him go to the army. I think
they took him to New Orleans, and old Master was hopping mad, but he couldn't do anything or they would make him
go too, even if he was a preacher.
I think he left out of there partly because he didn't like the people at that place. They wasn't no Baptists around
anywheres, they was all Catholics, and old Master didn't like them.
About that time it look like everybody in the world was going to Texas. When we would be going down the road we
would have to walk along the side all the time to let the wagons go past, all loaded with folks going to Texas.
Pretty soon old Master say git the wagons loaded again, and this time we start out with some other people, going
north. We go north a while and then turn west, and cross the Sabine River and go to Nachedoches, Texas. Me and
my brother Joe and my sister Adeline walked nearly all the way, but my little sister Harriet and my mammy rid in
a wagon. Mammy was mighty poorly, and jest when we got to the Sabine bottoms she had another baby. Old Master didn't
like it 'cause it was a girl, but he named her Texana on account of where she was born and told us children to
wait on Mammy good and maybe we would get a little brother next time.
But we didn't. Old Master went with a whole bunch of wagons on out to the prairie country in Coryell County and
set up a farm where we just had to break the sod and didn't have to clear off much. And the next baby Mammy had
the next year was a girl. We named her Betty because Mistress jest have a baby a little while before and its name
was Betty.
Old Master's place was right at the corner where Coryell and McLennan and Bosque Counties come together, and we
raised mostly cotton and jest a little corn for feed. He seem like he changed a lot since we left Mississippi,
and seem like he paid more attention to us and looked after us better. But most the people that already live there
when we git there was mighty hard on their Negroes. They was mostly hard drinkers and hard talkers, and they work
and fight jest as hard as they talk, too!
One day Old Master come out from town and tell us that we all been set free, and we can go or stay jest as we wish.
All of my family stay on the place and he pay us half as shares on all we make. Pretty soon the whitefolks begin
to cut down on the shares, and the renters git only a third and some less, and the Negroes begin to drift out to
other places, but old Master stick to the halves a year or so after that. Then he come down to a third too.
It seem like the white people can't git over us being free, and they do everything to hold us down all the time.
We don't git no schools for a long time, and I never see the inside of a school. I jest grow up on hard work. And
we can't go 'round where they have the voting, unless we want to ketch a whipping some night, and we have to jest
keep on bowing and scraping when we are 'round white folks like we did when we was slaves. They had us down and
they kept us down. But that was the way they been taught, and I don't blame them for it none, I reckon.
When I git about thirty years old I marry Betty Sadler close to Waco, and we come up to the Creek Nation forty
years ago. We come to Muskogee first, and then to Tulsa about thirty seven years ago.
We had ten children but only seven are alive. Three girls and a boy live here in Tulsa and we got one boy in Muskogee
and one at Frederick, Oklahoma.
I sells milk and makes my living, and I keeps so busy I don't think back on the old days much, but if anybody ask
me why the Texas Negroes been kept down so much I can tell them. If they set like I did on the bank at that ferry
across the Sabine, and see all that long line of covered wagons, miles and miles of them, crossing that river and
going west with all they got left out of the War, it aint hard to understand.
Them whitefolks done had everything they had tore up, or had to run away from the places they lived, and they brung
their Negroes out to Texas and then right away they lost them too. They always had them Negroes, and lots of them
had mighty fine places back in the old states, and then they had to go out and live in sod houses and little old
boxed shotguns and turn their Negroes loose. They didn't see no justice in it then, and most of them never did
until they died. The folks that stayed at home and didn't straggle all over the country had their old places to
live on and their old friends around them, but them Texans was different.
So I says, when they done us the way they did they was jest doing the way they was taught. I don't blame them,
because anybody will do that.
Whitefolks mighty decent to me now, and I always tried to teach my children to be respectful and act like they
think the whitefolks they dealing with expects them to act. That the way to git along, because some folks been
taught one way and some been taught another, and folks always thinks the way they been taught.
BOB MAYNARD
AGE 79 23 East Choctaw Weleetka, Oklahoma.
I was born near what is now Marlin, Texas, Falls County. My father was Robert Maynard and my mother was Chanie
Maynard, both born slaves. Our Master, Gerard Branum, was a very old man and wore long white whiskers. He sho'
was a fine built man, and walked straight and tall like a young man.
I was too little to do much work so my job was to carry the key basket for old Mistress. I sho' was proud of that
job. The basket held the keys to the pantry, the kitchen, the linen closet, and extra keys to the rooms and smokehouse.
When old Mistress started out on her rounds every morning she'd call to me to get de basket and away we'd go. I'd
run errands for all the house help too, so I was kept purty busy.
The "big house" was a fine one. It was a big two-story white house made of pine lumber. There was a big
porch or veranda across the front and wings on the east and west. The house faced south. There was big round white
posts that went clean up to the roof and there was a big porch upstairs too. I believe the house was what you'd
call colonial style. There was twelve or fifteen rooms and a big wide stairway. It was a purty place, with a yard
and big trees and the house that set in a walnut and pecan grove. They was graveled walks and driveways and all
along by the driveway was cedars. There was a hedge close to the house and a flower garden with purty roses, holly
hocks and a lot of others I don't know the name of.
Back to the right of the house was the smokehouse, kept full of meat, and further back was the big barns. Old Master
kept a spanking pair of carriage horses and several fine riding horses. He kept several pairs of mules, too, to
pull the plow. He had some ox teams too.
To the left and back of the "big house" was the quarters. He owned about two thousand acres of land and
three hundred slaves. He kept a white overseer and the colored overlooker was my uncle. He sho' saw that the gang
worked. He saw to it that the cotton was took to the gin. They used oxen to pull the wagons full of cotton. There
was two gins on the plantation. Had to have two for it was slow work to gin a bale of cotton as it was run by horse
power.
Old Master raised hundreds of hogs; he raised practically all the food we et. He gave the food out to each family
and they done their own cooking except during harvest. The farm hands was fed at the "big house." They
was called in from the farm by a big bell.
Sunday was our only day for recreation. We went to church at our own church, and we could sing and shout jest as
loud as we pleased and it didn't disturb nobody.
During the week after supper we would all set round the doors outside and sing or play music. The only musical
instruments we had was a jug or big bottle, a skillet lid or frying pan that they'd hit with a stick or a bone.
We had a flute too, made out of reed cane and it'd make good music. Sometimes we'd sing and dance so long and loud
old Master'd have to make us stop and go to bed.
The Patrollers, Ku Kluxers or night riders come by sometimes at night to scare the niggers and make 'em behave.
Sometimes the slaves would run off and the Patroller would catch 'em and have 'em whipped. I've seen that done
lots of times. They was some wooden stocks (a sort of trough) and they'd put the darky in this and strap him down,
take off his clothers and give him 25 to 50 licks, 'cording to what he had done.
I reckon old Master had everything his heart could wish for at this time. Old Mistress was a fine lady and she
always went dressed up. She wore long trains on her skirts and I'd walk behind her and hold her train up when she
made de rounds. She was awful good to me. I slept on the floor in her little boy's room, and she give me apples
and candy just like she did him. Old Master gave ever chick and child good warm clothes for winter. We had store
boughten shoes but the women made our clothes. For underwear we all wore 'lowers' but no shirts.
After the war started old Master took a lot of his slaves and went to Natchez, Mississippi. He thought he'd have
a better chance of keeping us there I guess, and he was afraid we'd be greed [TR: freed?] and he started running
with us. I remember when General Grant blowed up Vicksburg. I had a free born Uncle and Aunt who sometimes visited
in the North and they'd till us how easy it was up there and it sho' made us all want to be free.
I think Abe Lincoln was next to de Lawd. He done all he could for de slaves; he set 'em free. People in the South
knowed they'd lose their slaves when he was elected president. 'Fore the election he traveled all over the South
and he come to our house and slept in old Mistress' bed. Didn't nobody know who he was. It was a custom to take
strangers in and put them up for one night or longer, so he come to our house and he watched close. He seen how
the niggers come in on Saturday and drawed four pounds of meat and a peck of meal for a week's rations. He also
saw 'em whipped and sold. When he got back up north he writ old Master a letter and told him he was going to have
to free his slaves, that everybody was going to have to, that the North was going to see to it. He also told him
that he had visited at his house and if he doubted it to go in the room he slept in and look on the bedstead at
the head and he'd see where he'd writ his name. Sho' nuff, there was his name: A. Lincoln.
Didn't none of us like Jeff Davis. We all liked Robert E. Lee, but we was glad that Grant whipped him.
When the War was over, old Master called all the darkies in and lined 'em up in a row. He told 'em they was free
to go and do as they pleased. It was six months before any of us left him.
Darkies could vote in Mississippi. Fred Douglas, a colored man, came to Natchez and made political speeches for
General Grant.
After the war they was a big steam boat line on the Mississippi River known as the Robert E. Lee Line. They sho'
was fine boats too.
We used to have lots of Confederate money. Five cent pieces, two bit pieces, half dollar bills and half dimes.
During the war old Master dug a long trench and buried all de silver ware, fine clothes, jewelry and a lot of money.
I guess he dug it up, but I don't remember.
Master died three years after the War. He took it purty good, losing his niggers and all. Lots of men killed theirselves.
Old Master was a good old man.
I'm getting old, I reckon. I've been married twice and am the father of 19 chillun. The oldest if 57 and my youngest
is two boys, ten and twelve. I has great grandchillun older than them two boys.
[Date stamp: AUG 19 1937]
JANE MONTGOMERY
Age 80 yrs. Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
I was born March 15, 1857, in Homer, Louisiana. I claim to be 75 years old, but that's jest my way of counting.
My mother was Sarah Strong and my father was Edmond Beavers. We lived in a log cabin that had jest one door. I
had two sisters named Peggy and Katie. Mammy was bought from the Strong family and my pappy was bought from Beavers
by Mister Eason.
We slept on wooden slabs which was jest make-shift beds. I didn't do no work in slave times 'cause I was too little.
You jest had to be good and husky to work on that place. I listened and told mammy everything I heerd. I ate right
side dat old white woman on the flo'. I was a little busy-body. I don't recollect eating in our quarters on Sunday
and no other time.
I don't remember no possums and rabbits being on our place, 'cause when white folks killed a chicken for their
selves, dey killed one for the niggers. My pappy never ate no cornbread in all his put-together. Meat was my favorite
food. I never ate no dry bread without no meat.
We wore homespun clothes. My first pair of shoes was squirrel skin. Mammy had 'em made. We wore clothes called
linsey that was wool and cotton mixed.
My father was the onliest overseer. It was sho' a great big old place. My master jest seen the place on Sundays.
They was jest seven Niggers on our plantation. No working late at night but we had to git up at daylight. When
our day's work was done, we went to bed, but sometimes they sung. Sadday was a holiday from working on the plantation.
You had Sadday to wash for yourself. We didn't do nothing on Christmas and all holidays.
Mistress never whip us and iffen master would start, mistress would git a gun and make him stop. She said, "Let
ever bitch whip her own chillun." I never seen no patrollers, I jest heerd of 'em. They never come on our
place. I guess they was scared to. The Klu Klux whipped niggers when so never they could catch 'em. They rid at
night mostly.
I am a Baptist. I belong to Calvary Baptist Church. I was baptized in a creek. Our favorite hymn was "Dark
Was the Night an' Cold the Ground." Our favorite revival hymn was "Lord I'd Come to Thee, a Sinner Undefiled."
Our favorite funeral song was "Hark From the Tomb."
My family didn't believe in conjure an' all that stuff, 'though they's a heap of it was going on and still is for
that matter. They had "hands" that was made up of all kinds of junk. You used 'em to make folks love
you more'n they did. We used asafetida to keep off smallpox and measles. Put mole foots round a baby's neck to
make him teethe easy. We used to use nine red ants tied in a sack round they neck to make 'em teethe easy and never
had no trouble with 'em neither.
I think I seen a haunt once, 'cause when I looked the second time, what I seen the first time was gone.
When the War was over, mistress' son come home and he cleaned his guns on my dress tail. It sho' stunk up my dress
and made me sick too. He told old mistress that niggers was free now. I went and told mammy that old Betsy's son
told her the niggers was free and what did he mean. She said, "Shhhhhh!" They never did jest come out
and tell us we was free. We was free in July and mammy left in September. We lived in Jordan Saline, out from Smith
County. Then my mother give me to my father 'cause she was married to another man. Her and my step-father moved
to Gilmore, Texas. They sent for me round 'bout Christmas and we lived on Sampers' farm.
We lived so far out, we couldn't go to school, 'though they was for us. We didn't own no land. Didn't nobody learn
me to read and write.
Abe Lincoln was a good man. It was through Mr. Lincoln that God fit to free us. I don't know much 'bout Jeff Davis
and don't care nothing 'bout him. Booker T. Washington built that school through God. He used to live in a cabin
jest lak I done. He was sho' a great man.
I married Trole Kemp in 1883. I 'mind you they didn't marry in slavery, they jest took up. Master jest give a permit.
I am the mother of 10 chillun and 5 grandchillun. Four of my chillun died young. Them what's living is doing different
things sech as: writing policy, working on made work, housework, government clerk and hotel maid. One is in the
pen.
[Date stamp: AUG 13 1937]
AMANDA OLIVER
Age 80 yrs. Oklahoma City, Okla.
I 'membuh what my mother say--I was born November 9, 1857, in Missouri. I was 'bout eight years old, when she was
sold to a master named Harrison Davis. They said he had two farms in Missouri, but when he moved to northern Texas
he brought me, my mother, Uncle George, Uncle Dick and a cullud girl they said was 15 with 'im. He owned 'bout
6 acres on de edge of town near Sherman, Texas, and my mother and 'em was all de slaves he had. They said he sold
off some of de folks.
We didn't have no overseers in northern Texas, but in southern Texas dey did. Dey didn't raise cotton either; but
dey raised a whole lots of corn. Sometime de men would shuck corn all night long. Whenever dey was going to shuck
all night de women would piece quilts while de men shuck de corn and you could hear 'em singing and shucking corn.
After de cornshucking, de cullud folks would have big dances.
Master Davis lived in a big white frame house. My mother lived in the yard in a big one-room log hut with a brick
chimney. De logs was "pinted" (what dey call plastered now with lime). I don't know whether young folks
know much 'bout dat sort of thing now.
I slept on de floor up at de "Big House" in de white woman's room on a quilt. I'd git up in de mornings,
make fires, put on de coffee, and tend to my little brother. Jest do little odd jobs sech as that.
We ate vegetables from de garden, sech as that. My favorite dish is vegetables now.
I don't remember seeing any slaves sold. My mother said dey sold 'em on de block in Kentucky where she was raised.
I don't remembuh when de War broke out, but I remembuh seeing the soldiers with de blue uniforms on. I was afraid
of 'em.
Old mistress didn't tell us when he was free, but another white woman told my mother and I remembuh. One day old
mistress told my mother to git to that wheel and git to work, and my mother said, "I ain't gwineter, I'm jest
as free as you air." So dat very day my mother packed up all our belongings and moved us to town, Sherman,
Texas. She worked awful hard, doing day work for 50¢ a day, and sometimes she'd work for food, clothes or
whatever she could git.
I don't believe in conjuring though I heard lotta talk 'bout it. Sometimes I have pains and aches in my hands,
feel like sometime dat somebody puts dey hands on me, but I think jest de way my nerves is.
I can't say much 'bout Abe Lincoln. He was a republican in favor of de cullud folk being free. Jeff Davis? Yeah,
the boys usta sing a song 'bout 'im:
Lincoln rides a fine hoss, Jeff Davis rides a mule, Lincoln is de President, Jeff Davis is de fool.
Booker T. Washington--I guess he is a right good man. He's for the cullud people I guess.
I been a Christian thirty some odd years. I've been here some thirty odd years. Had to come when my husband did.
He died in 1902. We married in 18--I've forgot, but we went to de preacher and got married. We did more than jump
over de broom stick.
In those days we went to church with de white folks. Dey had church at eleven and the cullud folks at three, but
all of us had white preachers. Our church is standing right there now, at least it was de last time I was there.
I don't have a favorite song, theys so many good ones, but I like, "Bound for the Promised Land." I'm
a Baptist, my mother was a Baptist, and her white folks was Baptist.
I have two daughters, Julia Goodwin and Bertha Frazier, and four grandchildren, both of 'ems been separated. Dey
do housework.
SALOMON OLIVER
Age 78 yrs. Tulsa, Oklahoma.
John A. Miller owned the finest plantation in Washington County, Mississippi, about 12-mile east of Greenville.
I was born on this 20,000-acre plantation November 17, 1859, being one of about four hundred slave children on
the place.
About three hundred negro families living in box-type cabins made it seem like a small town. Built in rows, the
cabins were kept whitewashed, neat and orderly, for the Master was strict about such things. Several large barns
and storage buildings were scattered around the plantation. Also, two cotton gins and two old fashioned presses,
operated by horses and mules, made Miller's plantation one of the best equipped in Mississippi.
Master John was quite a character. The big plantation didn't occupy all his time. He owned a bank in Vicksburg
and another in New Orleans, and only came to the plantation two or three times a year for a week or two visit.
Things happened around there mighty quick when the Master showed up. If the slaves were not being treated right--out
go the white overseer. Fired! The Master was a good man and tried to hire good boss men. Master John was bad after
the slave women. A yellow child show up every once in a while. Those kind always got special privileges because
the Master said he didn't want his children whipped like the rest of them slaves.
My own Mammy, Mary, was the Master's own daughter! She married Salomon Oliver (who took the name of Oliver after
the War), and the Master told all the slave drivers to leave her alone and not whip her. This made the overseers
jealous of her and caused trouble. John Santhers was one of the white overseers who treated her bad, and after
I was born and got strong enough (I was a weakling for three-four years after birth), to do light chores he would
whip me just for the fun of it. It was fun for him but not for me. I hoped to whip him when I grew up. That is
the one thing I won't ever forget. He died about the end of the War so that's one thing I won't ever get to do.
My mother was high-tempered and she knew about the Master's orders not to whip her. I guess sometimes she took
advantage and tried to do things that maybe wasn't right. But it did her no good and one of the white men flogged
her to death. She died with scars on her back!
Father use to preach to the slaves when a crowd of them could slip off into the woods. I don't remember much about
the religious things, only just what Daddy told me when I was older. He was caught several times slipping off to
the woods and because he was the preacher I guess they layed on the lash a little harder trying to make him give
up preaching.
Ration day was Saturday. Each person was given a peck of corn meal, four pounds of wheat flour, four pounds of
pork meat, quart of molasses, one pound of sugar, the same of coffee and a plug of tobacco. Potatoes and vegetables
came from the family garden and each slave family was required to cultivate a separate garden.
During the Civil War a battle was fought near the Miller plantation. The Yankees under General Grant came through
the country. They burned 2,000 bales of Miller cotton. When the Yankee wagons crossed Bayou Creek the bridge gave
way and quite a number of soldiers and horses were seriously injured.
For many years after the War folks would find bullets in the ground. Some of the bullets were 'twins' fastened
together with a chain.
Master Miller settled my father upon a piece of land after the War and we stayed on it several years, doing well.
I moved to Muskogee in 1902, coming on to Tulsa in 1907, the same year Oklahoma was made a state. My six wives
are all dead,--Liza, Lizzie, Ellen, Lula, Elizabeth and Henrietta. Six children, too. George, Anna, Salomon, Nelson,
Garfield, Cosmos--all good children. They remember the Tulsa riot and don't aim ever to come back to Oklahoma.
When the riot started in 1922 (I think it was), I had a place on the corner of Pine and Owasso Streets. Two hundred
of my people gathered at my place, because I was so well known everybody figured we wouldn't be molested. I was
wrong. Two of my horses was shot and killed. Two of my boys, Salomon and Nelson, was wounded, one in the hip, the
other in the shoulder. They wasn't bad and got well alright. Some of my people wasn't so lucky. The dead wagon
hauled them away!
White men came into the negro district and gathered up the homeless. The houses were most all burned. No place
to go except to the camps where armed whites kept everybody quiet. They took my clothes and all my money--$298.00--and
the police couldn't do nothing about my loss when I reported it to them.
That was a terrible time, but we people are better off today that any time during the days of slavery. We have
some privileges and they are worth more than all the money in the world!
