|
|
(Mobile, Alabama. [Photo], Ila B. Prine, Ira S. Jorden, Nubile 7.)
Charity Anderson, who believes she is 101 years old, was born at Bell's Landing on the Alabama River, where her owner, Leslie Johnson, operated a wood-yard which supplied fuel to the river teamers, and a tavern where travelers whiled away the delays of a dubious riverboat schedule.
Rheumatic and weak, she no longer ventures from her house in Toulminville, on the outskirts of Mobile, but sits with her turbaned head and bespectacled eyes, rocking the long hours away in a creaky old chair and knitting or sewing, or just gazing into a past painted by the crackling flames in the fireplace.
"I has so much trouble gittin' up and down de steps and over de groun', I jist makes myself happy heah, cause, thank de Lawd I'se on Zion's March," is her resigned comment.
"Missy, peoples don't live now; and niggers ain't got no manners, and doan' know nothin' 'bout waitin' on folks. I kin remember de days when I was one of de house servants. Dere was six of us in de ole Massa's house--me, Sarah, Lou, Hester, Jerry and Joe. Us didn' know nothin' but good times den. My job was lookin' atter de corner table whar nothin' but de desserts set. Joe and Jerry, dey was de table boys. Dey never tetched nothin' of dere hends, but used de waiter to pass things wid.
"My ole Massa was a good man. He treated all his slaves kind, and took good here of 'em. But, honey, all de white folks ain't good to dere slaves. I's seen po' niggers 'most tore up by dogs and whupped 'til dey bled when dey didn' do lak de white folks say. But, thank de Lawd, I had good white folks and dey sho' did trus' me, too. I had charge of all de keys to de house, and I waited on de Missis and de chillun. I laid out all de clo's on Sat'dy night, and den Sunday mawnins I'd pick up all de dirty things. Dey didn' have a thing to do. Us house servants had a hard job keepin' de pickaninnies out'er de dinin' room whar ole Massa et, cause when dey would slip in and stan' by his cheer, when he finished eatin' he would fix a plate for 'em and let 'em set on the hearth.
"No ma'am, Missy, I ain't never worked in de fields. Ole massa he never planted no cotton, and I ain't seen none planted 'til after I was free. But, honey, I could sho 'nuff wash, iron and knit and weave. Sometimes I weaved six or seven yards of cloth, and do my house work too. I larnt the chillun how to weave, and wash, and iron, and knit too, and I's waited on de fo'th generation of our fambly. I jes' wish I could tell dese young chillun how to go. Iffen dey
would only suffer me to talk to dem, I'd tell dem to be more 'spectful to dere mammies and to dere white folks and
say 'yes ma'am' and 'no ma'am', instid of 'yes' and 'no' lak dey do now.
"All dis generation thinks of is 'musement. I never had seen a show in my whole life 'til jes' dis pas' yeah when one of dem carnival things wid de swings, and lights, and all de doin's dey have stop right in front of our house heare!
"And I ain't never been in no trouble in all my life--ain't been in no lawsuits, and I ain't been no witness even. I allus treat everybody as good as I kin, and I uses my manners as good as I knows how, and de Lawd sho' has took good keer of me. Why, when my house burnt up, de white folks helped me so dat in no time you couldn't tell I ever los' a thing.
"But, honey, de good ole days is now gone forever. De old days was really de good times. How I wish I could go back to dem days when we lived at Johnson's landing on de river, when de folks would come to ketch de steamboats and we never knowed how many to put on breakfas', dinner, or supper fo', cause de boats might be behin' times. I ain't never had to pay a fare to ride a steamboat neither. I was a good lookin' yaller gal in dem days and ride free wherever I wanted to go.
"But whut's de use dreamin' 'bout de ole times? Dey's gone, and de world is gettin' wickeder and wickeder, sin grows bolder and bolder, and 'ligion colder and colder."
(Wash. Copy, R.L.D., 4-23-37)
