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(Mobile, AL. Francois Ludgere Diard, John Morgan Smith, Federal Writers' Project. May 28, 1937)
"I was born in de year 1845, white folks," said Aunt Clara, "on de Mosley plantation in Bellvy jus' north of Monroeville. Us had a mighty pretty place back dar. Massa Mosely had near 'bout five hundred acres an' mos' near to one hundred slaves.
"Was Marse Moseley good to us? Lor', honey, how you talk. Co'se he was! He was de bes' white man in de lan'. Us had ev'y thing dat we could hope to eat: turkey, chicken, beef, lamb, vegetables, fruits, eggs, butter, milk...we jus' had eveything, white folks, ev'ything. Dem was de good ole days. How I longs to be back dar wid my ole folks an' a playin' wid de chilluns down by de creek. 'Tain't nothin' lak it today, nawsuh. When I tell you 'bout it you gwine to wish you was dar too.
"White folks, you can have your automobiles an' paved streets an' electric lights. I don't want 'em. You can have de busses an' street cars an' hot pavements an' high buildin' 'cuz I ain't got no use for 'em no way. But I'll tell you what I does want. I wants my ole cotton bed an' de moonlight nights a shinin' through de willow trees an' de cool grass 'neath my feets as I runned aroun' ketchin' lightnin' bugs. I wants to hear de sound of de hounds in de woods atter de 'possum, an' de smell of fresh mowed hay. I wants to feel de sway of de ol' wagon a-goin' down de red, dusty road an' listen to de wheels groanin' as dey rolls along. I wants to sink my teeth into some of dat good ol' ash cake, an' stick de good ol' sorghum in my mouth. White folks I wants to see de boats a passin' up an' down de Alabamy river an' hear de slaves a singin' at dere work. I wants to see de dawn break over de black ridge an' de twilight settle over de place spreadin' a sort of orange hue over de place. I wants to walk de paths th'ew de woods an' see de rabbits an' watch de birds an' listen to frogs at night. But dey tuk me away f'm dat a long time ago. 'Twarn't long befo' I ma'ied an' had chilluns, but don't none of 'em 'tribute to my succote now. One of 'em was killed in de big war wid Germany and de res' is all scattered out...eight of 'em. Now I jus' live f'm han' to mouth; here one day, somewhere else de nex'. I guess we's all a-goin' to die iffen dis 'pression don't let us 'lone. Maybe someday I'll git to go home. Dey wells me dat when a puhson crosses dat river, de Lawd gives him whut he wants. I done tol' de Lawd I don't want nothin' much, only my home, white folks. I don't think dats much to ax for. I suppose he'll sen' me back dar. I been a-waitin' for him to call."
(Wash. Copy, D. L.D., 3-4-37)
[Note: The following excerpts were taken from another interview conducted with the preceding person. All repeated information has been omitted.]
Aunt Clara says she has no home, but just lives from hand to mouth and place to place sleeping here or there and sometimes "de white ladies in dere rich 'mobiles calls me tuh dem an' dey gibs me a nickel or dime." She also stated she was married in 1885 at the age of twenty years to a negro named Davis, whom she bore eleven children for, seven of these children are living today and do not contribute a penny toward her support. Some of the seven children she knows where they are, but not the others. Her youngest son went to the late world war, and where ever he is, is receiving compensation from either being gassed or wounded.
Aunt Clara has applied for an old age pension, but says that while some of the officials in charge believe her more than seventy-five years, others say she is younger. According to her statement that she was born June, 1865, makes her eligible for same. She says every time she goes out to the old Relief building, "dey tells me when dey calls mah name tuh 'sit down', an' den when I gits up again dey shouts out at me 'tuh sit down'. Lor', chile, I'se jest don't kno' what tuh do when eber I goes dere."
From Aunt Clara Davis' appearance her wonderful ante-bellum personality, her bandana kerchief around her head under her broad field straw hat, her neat check apron and her slave-like, yet venerable, stride, displayed many fine traits of the before the Civil War. Her very manner shows that both Archie and Mary Moseley, her parents, had raised her well. As for "Marster Moseley", the latter's master, he himself must have been typical of the old-time before the war planters, who never censored but lectured his slaves with kindness, and even after the war was long forgotten those that remained he paid well. He had come to Alabama in the early 1830's from Virginia and settled at Bellvy just north of Monroeville, Monroe County, bringing with him Archie and Mary Moseley. As his cotton plantation needed it, he bought other slaves until he had, according to Aunt Clara, over forty slaves, who occupied quarters to themselves. Aunt Clara says she remembers that the happiest moments of her life was to hear ex-slaves of Marster Moseley tell of the Indians and General George S. Gaines, the Indian factor, who had his headquarters at St. Stephens at one time. She also recalled the yearly 'possum hunts and the wild turkey and squirrel hunts and the cat-fishing on the Alabama river, when the darkies would stretch a trot line completely across the river on a quiet night and then go the next morning in their boats for "de catch", when "dere wud be nine or ten an' sumtimes more cat fish weighing nigh up to sixty an' seventy pounds."
The writer asked her how the ex-slaves cooked the cat fish, and she replied: "Well, honey, some niggers just skin dem an' fries de steak part, while odders cut dem up fine an' stews dem wid 'taters and tumatters an' seas'ning. Mah ma wud bake dem wide tumatter gravy an' sweet 'taters."
Several prominent Mobile ladies have urged Aunt Clara Davis to continue going to see the "old age officials" at the old Mobile County Relief building, so she can have proper sustenance and permanent place to stay, since her children have all deserted her and she is enfeebled with rheumatism in her right knee. Aunt Clara has been in Mobile since during the 1890's, her husband being a dining room man on several of the Alabama steamers between Mobile and the upper landings and towns.
