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In the 1930s, the Works Progress Administration commissioned an oral history of the remaining former slaves. Bullwhip Days is a remarkable compendium of selections from these extraordinary interviews, providing an unflinching portrait of the world of government-sanctioned slavery of Africans in America. Here are twenty-nine full narrations, as well as nine sections of excerpts related to particular aspects of slave life, from religion to plantation life to the Reconstruction era. Skillfully edited, these chronicles bear eloquent witness to the trials of slaves in America, reveal the wide range of conditions of human bondage, and provide sobering insight into the roots of racism in today’s society.
“Remarkably articulate . . . vivid, moving, and beautifully cadenced.” —The New Yorker
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780802191182 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Grove/Atlantic, Inc. |
| Publication date: | 11/20/2018 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 482 |
| Sales rank: | 317,787 |
| File size: | 10 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Narratives
* * *
GEORGIA BAKER MARY REYNOLDS KATIE ROWE
GEORGIA BAKER
WHAR was I born? Why I was born on de plantation of a great man. It was Marse Alec Stephens' plantation 'bout a mile and a half from Crawfordville, in Taliaferro County, Georgia. Mary and Grandison Tilly was my ma and pa. Ma was cook up at de big house and she died when I was jus' a little gal. Pa was a field hand, and he belonged to Marse Britt Tilly.
Dere was four of us chillun: me, and Mary, and Frances, and Mack. Marse Alec let Marse Jim Johnson have Mack for his bodyguard. Frances, she wukked in de field, and Mary was de baby; she was too little to wuk. Me, I was fourteen years old when de War was over. I swept yards, toted water to de field, and played round de house and yard wid de rest of de chillun.
De long log houses what us lived in was called "shotgun" houses 'cause dey had three rooms, one behind de other in a row lak de barrel of a shotgun. All de chillun slept in one end room and de grown folks slept in de other end room. De kitchen whar us cooked and et was de middle room.
Beds was made out of pine poles put together wid cords. Dem wheat straw mattresses was for grown folks mostly, 'cause nigh all de chillun slept on pallets. How-some-ever, dere was some few slave chillun what had beds to sleep on. Pillows! Dem days, us never knowed what pillows was. Gals slept on one side of de room and boys on de other, in de chillun s room. Uncle Jim, he was de bed maker, and he made up a heap of little beds lak what dey calls cots now.
Becky and Stafford Stephens was my grandma and grandpa. Marse Alec bought 'em in Old Virginny. I don't know what my grandma done, 'cause she died 'fore I was borned, but I 'members Grandpa Stafford well enough. I can see him now. He was a old man what slept on a trundle bed in de kitchen, and all he done was to set by de fire all day wid a switch in his hand and tend de chillun whilst deir mammies was at wuk. Chillun minded better dem days dan dey does now. Grandpa Stafford never had to holler at 'em but one time. Dey knowed dey would git de switch next if dey didn't behave.
Now dere you is axin' 'bout dat somepin'-t'-eat us had dem days! Oh, yessum! Marse Alec had plenty for his slaves to eat. Dere was meat, bread, collard greens, snap beans, taters, peas, all sorts of dried fruit, and just lots of milk and butter. Marse Alec had twelve cows and dat's whar I learned to love milk so good. De same Uncle Jim what made our beds made our wooden bowls what dey kept filled wid bread and milk for de chillun all day. You might want to call dat place whar Marse Alec had our vegetables raised a gyarden, but it looked more lak a big field to me, it was so big. You jus' ought to have seed dat dere fireplace whar dey cooked all us had to eat. It was one sho'-'nuf big somepin', all full of pots, skillets, and ovens. Dey warn't never 'lowed to git full of smut neither. Dey had to be cleant and shined up atter evvy meal, and dey sho' was pretty hangin' dar in dat big old fireplace.
Marse Alec growed all his corn on his Cougar Crick plantation. He planned for evvything us needed and dere warn't but mighty little dat he didn't have raised to take keer of our needs.
On Sundays, whenever Marse Alec was home, he done lots of readin' out of a great big old book. I didn't know what it was, but he was pow'ful busy wid it. He never had no parties or dancin' dat I knows 'bout, but he was all de time havin' dem big 'portant mens at his house talkin' 'bout de business what tuk him off from home so much. I used to see Lawyer Toombs dere heaps of times. He was a big, fine-lookin' man. Another big lawyer was all de time comin' dar too, but I done lost his name. Marse Alec had so awful much sense in his haid dat folkses said it stunted his growin'. Anyhow, long as he lived he warn't no bigger den a boy.
De fust time I ever seed Marse Alec to know who he was I warn't more'n six years old. Uncle Stafford had went fishin' and cotched de nicest mess of fish you ever seed. He cleant 'em and put 'em in a pan of water, and told me to take 'em up to de big house to Marse Alec. I was skeered when I went in de big house yard and axed what looked like a little boy whar Marse Alec was. And I was wuss skeered when he said, "Dis is Marse Alec you is talkin' to. What you want?" I tole him Uncle Stafford sont him de fishes, and he tell me, "Take 'em to de kitchen and tell Liza to cook 'em for me. " I sho' ain't never gwine to forgit dat.
One day, dey sent me wid a bucket of water to de field, and I had to go through de peach orchard. I et so many peaches I was 'most daid when I got back to de house. Dey had to drench me down wid sweet milk, and from dat day to dis I ain't never lakked peaches. From den on, Marse Alec called me "de peach gal."
Marse Alec warn't home much of de time, but when he was dar he used to walk down to de cabins and laugh and talk to his niggers. He used to sing a song for de slave chillun dat run somepin' lak dis:
Walk light ladies, De cake's all dough, You needn't mind de weather, If de wind don't blow.
Us didn't know when he was a-singin' dat tune to us chillun dat when us growed up us would be cakewalkin' to de same song.
George and Mack was de hunters. When dey went huntin' dey brought back jus' evvything: possums, rabbits, coons, squirrels, birds, and wild turkeys. Yessum, wild turkeys is some sort of birds, I reckon, but when us talked about birds to eat, us meant part'idges. Some folkses calls 'em quails. De fishes us had in summertime was a sight to see. Us sho' et good, dem days. Now us jus' eats what-some-ever us can git.
Summertime, us jus' wore what us wanted to. Dresses was made wid full skirts gathered onto tight-fittin' waisties. Winter clothes was good and warm; dresses made of yarn cloth made up jus' lak dem summertime clothes, and petticoats and draws made out of osnaburg. Chillun what was big enough done de spinnin', and Aunt Betsey and Aunt Finny, dey wove most evvy night till dey rung de bell at ten o'clock for us to go to bed. Us made bolts and bolts of cloth evvy year.
Us went bar' foots in summer, but bless your sweet life us had good shoes in winter and wore good stockins, too. It tuk three shoemakers for our plantation. Dey was Uncle Isom, Uncle Jim, and Uncle Stafford. Dey made up holestock shoes for de 'omans [women] and gals and brass-toed brogans for de mens and boys. Lordy, didn't I tell you what sort of shoes holestock shoes is? Dey was de shoes de 'omans wore, and dey had extra pieces on de sides so us wouldn't knock holes in 'em too quick.
Us had pretty white dresses for Sunday. Marse Alec wanted evvy-body on his place dressed up dat day. He sent his houseboy, Uncle Harris, down to de cabins evvy Sunday mornin' to tell evvy slave to clean hisself up. Dey warn't never give no chance to forgit. Dere was a big old room set aside for a washroom. Folkses laughs at me now 'cause I ain't never stopped takin' a bath evvy Sunday mornin'.
Did I tell you dat de man what looked atter Marse Alec's business was his fust cousin? Marse Lordnorth Stephens was de boss on Marse Alec's plantation. 'Course, Marse Alec owned us and he was our sho'-'nuf marster. Neither one of 'em ever married. Marse Lordnorth was a good man, but he didn't have no use for 'omans. He was a sissy. Dere warn't no marster nowhar no better den our Marse Alec Stephens, but he never stayed home enough to tend to things hisself much, 'cause he was all de time too busy on de outside. He was de President* or somepin' of our side durin' de War.
Uncle Pierce went wid Marse Alec evvywhar he went. His dog "Rio" had more sense den most folkses. Marse Alec, he was all de time havin' big mens visit him up at the big house. One time, out in de yard, him and one of dem 'portant mens got in a argyment 'bout somepin'. Us chillun snuck up close to hear what dey was makin' such a ruckus 'bout. I heared Marse Alec say, "I got more sense in my big toe dan you is got in your whole body." And he was right: he did have more sense den most folkses. Ain't I been a-tellin' you he was de President or somepin' lak dat, dem days?
Ma, she was Marse Alec's cook and looked atter de house. Atter she died, Marse Lordnorth got Mrs. Mary Berry, from Habersham County, to keep house at de big house, but Aunt Liza, she done de cookin' atter Mis' Mary got dar. Us little niggers sho' did love Mis' Mary. Us called her "Mammy Mary" sometimes. Mis' Mary had three sons and one of 'em was named Jeff Davis. I 'members when dey come and got him and tuk him off to war. Marse Lordnorth built a four-room house on de plantation for Mis' Mary and her boys. Evvybody loved our Mis' Mary, 'cause she was so good and sweet, and dere warn't nothin' us wouldn't have done for her.
No, Lord! Marse Lordnorth never needed no overseer or no carriage driver neither. Uncle Jim was de head man what got de niggers up evvy mornin' and started 'em off to wuk right. Marse Lordnorth never had no certain early time for his slaves to git up nor no special late time for 'em to quit wuk. De hours dey wukked was 'cordin' to how much wuk was ahead to be done. Folkses in Crawfordville called us "Stephens' free niggers."
De big house sho' was a pretty place, a-settin' up on a high hill. De squirrels was so tame dar dey jus' played all round de yard. Marse Alec's dog is buried in dat yard.
No, m'am, I never knowed how many acres dere was on de plantation us lived on, and Marse Alec had other places, too. He had land scattered evvywhar. Lord, dere was a heap of niggers on dat place, and all of us was kin to one another. Grandma Becky and Grandpa Stafford was de fust slaves Marse Alec ever had, and dey sho' had a passel of chillun.
One thing sho': Marse Lordnorth wouldn't keep no bright-colored nigger on dat plantation, if he could help it. Aunt Mary was a bright-colored nigger and dey said dat Marse John, Marse Lordnorth's brother, was her pa; but anyhow Marse Lordnorth never had no use for her, 'cause she was a bright-colored nigger.
Us minded Marse Lordnorth — us had to do dat — but he let us do pretty much as us pleased. Us never had no sorry piece of a marster. He was a good man and he made a sho'-'nuf good marster. I never seed no nigger git a beatin', and what's more, I never heared of nothin' lak dat on our place. Dere was a jail in Crawfordville, but none of us niggers on Marse Alec' place warn't never put in it.
No, Lord! — none of us niggers never knowed nothin' 'bout readin' and writin'. Dere warn't no school for niggers, den, and I ain't never been to school a day in my life. Niggers was more skeered of newspapers dan dey is of snakes now, and us never knowed what a Bible was, dem days.
Niggers never had no churches of deir own den. Dey went to de white folkses' churches and set in de gallery. One Sunday, when me and my sister Frances went to church, I found fifty cents in Confederate money and showed it to her. She tuk it away from me. Dat's de onliest money I seed durin' slavery time. 'Course, you knows dey throwed Confederate money away for trash atter de War was over. Den us young chaps used to play wid it.
I never went to no baptism's nor no funerals neither, den. Funerals warn't de style. When a nigger died dem days, dey jus' put his body in a box and buried it. I 'members very well when Aunt Sally and Aunt Catherine died, but I was little den, and I didn't take it in what dey done 'bout buryin' 'em.
None of Marse Alec's slaves never run away to no North, 'cause he was so good to 'em dey never wanted to leave him. De onliest nigger what left Marse Alec's place was Uncle Dave, and he wouldn't have left 'cept he got in trouble wid a white 'oman. You needn't ax me her name, 'cause I ain't gwine to tell it, but I knows it well as I does my own name. Anyhow, Marse Alec give Uncle Dave some money and told him to leave, and nobody never seed him atter dat.
Oh, yessum! — us heared 'bout 'em, but none of us never seed no patterollers* on Marse Alec's plantation. He never 'lowed 'em on his land, and he let 'em know dat he kept his slaves supplied wid passes whenever dey wanted to go places, so as dey could come and go when dey got good and ready. Thursday and Sa'day nights was de main nights dey went off. Uncle Stafford's wife was Mis' Mary Stephens' cook, Uncle Jim's wife lived on de Finley place, and Uncle Isom's belonged to de Rollises; so dey had regular passes all de time and no patterollers never bothered 'em none.
Whenever Marse Alec or Marse Lordnorth wanted to send a message, dey jus' put George or Mack on a mule and sont 'em on. But one thing sho': dere warn't no slave knowed what was in dem letters.
Most times, when slaves went to deir quarters at night, de mens rested, but sometimes dey holped de 'omans cyard [card] de cotton and wool. Young folkses frolicked, sung songs, and visited from cabin to cabin. When dey got behind wid de field wuk, slaves sometimes wukked atter dinner Sa'days, but dat warn't often.
But, oh, dem Sa'day nights! Dat was when slaves got together and danced. George, he blowed de quills,* and he sho' could blow good dance music on 'em. Dem niggers would jus' dance down. Dere warn't no foolishment 'lowed atter ten o'clock no night. Sundays we went to church and visited round, but folkses didn't spend as much time gaddin' 'bout lak dey does now' days.
Christmas Day! Oh, what a time us niggers did have dat day! Marse Lordnorth and Marse Alec give us evvything you could name to eat: cake of all kinds, fresh meat, lightbread, turkeys, chickens, ducks, geese, and all kinds of wild game. Dere was allus plenty of pecans, apples, and dried peaches, too, at Christmas. No, m'am, us never knowed nothin' 'bout Santa Claus till atter de War.
Marse Alec would call de grown folkses to de big house early on Christmas mornin' and pass round a big pewter pitcher full of whiskey. Den he would put a little whiskey in dat same pitcher and fill it wid sweetened water and give dat to us chillun. Us called dat "toddy" or "dram." Marse Alec allus had plenty of good whiskey, 'cause Uncle Willis made it up for him and it was made jus' right.
De night atter Christmas Day, us pulled syrup candy, drunk more liquor, and danced. Us had a big time for a whole week, and den, on New Year's Day, us done a little wuk jus' to start de year right. Us feasted dat day on fresh meat, plenty of cake, and whiskey. Dere was allus a big pile of ash-roasted taters on hand to go wid dat good old baked meat. Us allus tried to raise enough taters to last all through de winter, 'cause niggers sho' does love dem sweet taters.
No, m'am, dere warn't no special corn-shuckin's and cottonpickin's on Marse Alec's place. But, of course, dey did quilt in de winter, 'cause dere had to be lots of quiltin' done for all dem slaves to have plenty of warm kivver. And you know, lady, 'omans can quilt better if dey gits a passel of 'em together to do it. Marse Alec and Marse Lordnorth never 'lowed deir slaves to mix up wid other folkses' business much.
Oh, Lord! — us never played no games in slavery times, 'cept jus' to run around in a ring and pat our hands. I never sung no songs, 'cause I warn't no singer. And don't talk 'bout no Raw Head and Bloody Bones* or nothin' lak dat. Dey used to skeer us chillun so bad 'bout dem sort of things dat us used to lay in bed at night ashakin' lak us was havin' chills.
I've seed plenty of ha'nts right here in Athens. Not long atter I had left Crawfordville and moved to Athens, I had been in bed jus' a little while one night and was jus' dozin' off to sleep when I woke up and sat right sprang up in bed. I seed a white man, dressed in white, standin' before me. I sho' didn't say nothin' to him, for I was too skeered. De very last time I went to a dance, somepin' got atter me and skeered me so my hair riz up till I couldn't git my hat on my haid, and dat cyored [cured] me of gwine to dances. I ain't never been to no more sich doin's.
Old Marster was powerful good to his niggers when dey got sick. He had 'em seed atter soon as it was 'ported to him dat dey was ailin'. Yessum, dere warn't nothin' short 'bout our good marsters, 'deed dere warn't! Grandpa Stafford had a sore laig and Marse Lordnorth looked atter him and had Uncle Jim dress dat pore old sore laig evvy day. Slaves didn't git sick as often as niggers does now'days. Mammy Mary had all sorts of teas made up for us, 'cordin' to whatever ailment us had. Boneset tea was for colds. De fi?st thing dey allus done for sore throat was to give us tea made of red oak bark wid alum. Scurvy grass tea cleant us out in de springtime, and dey made us wear little sacks of assfiddy† round our necks to keep off lots of sorts of miseries. Some folkses hung de left hind foot of a mole on a string round deir babies' necks to make 'em teethe easier. I never done nothin' lak dat to my babies 'cause I never believed in no such foolishment. Some babies is jus natchelly gwine to teethe easier den others, anyhow.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Bullwhip Days"
by .
Copyright © 1988 James Mellon.
Excerpted by permission of Grove Atlantic, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
List of Illustrations,
Introduction,
Narratives:,
Georgia Baker,
Mary Reynolds,
Katie Rowe,
Voices:,
Slave Children, Food and Cooking, Stealing, and Fading Remembrances of Africa,
Narratives:,
Thomas Cole,
William Adams,
Fanny Cannady,
Voices:,
Ghosts and Conjuring,
Narratives:,
Charley Williams,
Jack and Rosa Maddox,
Rose Williams,
Voices:,
Plantation Life, Poor White Folks, Classes of Slaves, Patrollers, Christmas on the Plantation, Dancing, Corn-shuckings, Hog-killings, Music, Slave Marriages, and Forced Breeding,
Narratives:,
Calvin Moye,
Isaac Stier,
Charlie Moses,
Voices:,
Religion and Education,
Narratives:,
Rachel Cruze,
Jacob Manson,
Martin Jackson,
Josh Horn,
Voices:,
Bullwhip Days,
Narratives:,
George Fleming,
Arnold Gragson,
Cato Carter,
Elmo Steele,
Voices:,
Slave Auctions, Forced Breeding, Rape, and Runaways,
Narratives:,
John Crawford,
Lulu Wilson,
William Moore,
Voices:,
The Civil War and Statutory Freedom,
Narratives:,
Neal Upson,
Charlie Davenport,
Ellen Betts,
Voices:,
The Reconstruction Era, Sharecropping, Voting, and the Ku Klux Klan,
Narratives:,
Mary Grayson,
William Colbert,
Mollie Dawson,
Voices:,
The Younger Generation, Reflections and Conclusions,
