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Augusta Ave. Athens, Georgia
Written by: Miss Grace McGune Research Worker Federal Writers' Project Athens, Georgia
WPA Residency No. 6 April 6, 1938
The cold, rainy, and altogether disagreeable weather on the outside was soon forgotten when the interviewer was admitted the neat little home of Aunt Georgia Smith and found the old woman enjoying the cheerful warmth of her blazing fire.
Aunt Georgia appeared to be quite feeble. She was not only willing, but eager to talk of her experiences, and explained that her slow and rather indistinct articulation is one of the several bad after effects of her recent stroke of paralysis.
"My pappy was Blackstone Smith, and he b'longed to Marse Jeb Smith. My mammy was Nancy Chappell, owned by Mistus Peggis Chappell.
"I stayed wid my mammy on Mistus Chappell's plantation in Oglethorpe County, near old Antioch Church. W'en I was 'bout five or six years ole my mammy died. Den my pappy done come an' got me, an' I was to stay wid 'in on Marster Smith's place. Dey was good to me dar, but I warn't satisfied, am' I cried for old Mistus.
"I'd jes' go 'roun' snifflin', an' not eatin' nuffin', an' one day w'en us was pickin' peaches, Marster Smith tole my pappy he better take dat chile back to her old mistus, 'fo' she done git sick for sho'.
"Hit was de next day w'en day ax me did I went to see Old Mistus an' I jes' cry an' say, 'yassum.' Don Marster say: 'Blackstone, hitch a mule to dat wagon, an' take dat chile right back to her Old Mistus.' I tell 'em I can walk, but dey made me ride in de wagon, an' I sho' was glad I was goin' back home.
"I seed Old Mistus 'fo' I got dar, an' jumped out of de wagon an' run to 'er. W'en she seed me, she jes' grabbed me, an' I thought she was a laughin', but when I seed dat she was cryin', I tole 'er not to cry, dat I warn't goin' to leave 'er no mo'.
"Mistus sho' was good to me, but she was good to all 'er niggers, an' dey all loved 'er. Us allus had plenny of evvything, she made us wear plenny of good warm clo'es, an' us wo'e flannel petticoats when his was vole weather. Chillun don't wear 'nuff clo'es dese days to keep 'em warm, an nuffin' on deir legs. Hits a wonder dey doan' freeze.
"I diden' stay at de quarters with de udder niggers. Mistus kep' me in de big 'ouse wid 'er, an' I slep' on a cotton mattress on de floor by de side of 'er bed. She had a stick dat she used to punch me wid when she wannid someping in de night, an' effen I was hard to wake, she she' could punch wid dat stick.
"Mistus diden' ever have us niggers whipped 'lessen it Jest had to be done. An' if us chilluns was bad, fussin' am' fightin', Mistus would git 'er a stick, but us would jes' run an' hide, an' Mistus would forgit all 'bout it in jes' a little w'ile.
"Marster was dead, an' us had a overseer, but he was good to us jes' lak' Mistus was. Hit was a big old plantation, wid lots of niggers. W'en de overseer would try to larn de chilluns to plow an' dey diden' want to larn, dey would jes' play 'roun'. Sometimes dey snuck off to de udder side of de fiel' an' hunnid for lizards. Dey would hold a lizard's head wid a stick, an' spit 'bacco juice in 'is mouf an' turn 'im loose. De 'bacco juice would make de lizard drunk, and he would run 'roun' an' 'roun'. Dey would cotch snakes, kill dem an' hang de skins on trees so hit would rain an' dey wouldn't have to wuk in de fiel'.
"De quarters was built away f'um de big 'ouse. Dey was cabins made of logs an' day all had dey own gardens whar day raised all kinds of vegetables an' allus had plenny of hog meat. De cookin' was done on a big fireplace an' in brick ovens. 'Taters was baked in de ashes, an' dey sho' was good.
"Dey had big times huntin' an' fishin' w'en de wuk was over. Dey cotch lots of 'possums, an' had big 'possum suppers. De 'possums was roasted with plenny of 'taters, butter an' red pepper. Us would eat an' dance most of de night w'en us had a 'possum supper.
"De rabbits was so bad in de gardens dat dey tuk white rags an' tied 'em on sticks stuck up in de ground. Rabbits woulden' come 'roun' den, cyaze dey was 'fraid of dem white rags flyim' on de sticks.
"Mistus b'lieved in lookin' atter her niggers w'en dey was sick. She would give 'em medicine at home. Candy an' tea, made wid ho'e houn' an' butterfly root tea was good for worms; dewberry wine, lak'wise dewberry root tea was good for de stomach achs; samson snake root an' poplar bark tea was good medicine for coles an' so'e th'oats, an' w'en you was in pain, de red pepper bag would sho' help lots sometimes. If de homemade medicine diden' cyore 'em, den Mistus sont for de doctor.
"Slaves went to de white folkses church an' set up in de gallery. Dey stayed all day at chu'ch, an' had big dinners on de groun'. Dem was sho' 'nough good dinners. Us had big times on mestin' days.
"Our slaves had prayer meetin' twict a week in deir quarters, 'til dey got 'roun' to all de cabins den dey would start over again. Dey prayed an' sung all de old songs, and some of 'em as I 'member are: 'Roll Jordan Roll,' - 'Better Mind How you Step on de Cross,' - 'Cause You ain' Gon'er be Here Long,' - 'Tell de Story Bye an' Bye.' - 'All God's Chilluns are a Gatherin' Home,' an' 'We'll Understand Better Bye an' Bye.' Dey really could sing dem old songs. Mistus would let me go to dem cabin prayer meetin's an' I sho' did enjoy 'em.
"W'en slaves died dey jes' tuk 'em off an buried 'em. I doan' 'member 'em ever havin' a funeral, 'til way atter freedom done come an' niggers got dey own chu'ches.
"I 'member one night dey had a quiltin' in de quarters. De quilt was up in de frame, an' dey was all jes' quiltin' an' singin', 'All God's Chilluns are a Gatherin' Home,' w'en a drunk man wannid to preach, an' he jumped up on de quilt. Hit all fell down on de flo', an' dey all got fightin' mad at 'im. Dey locked 'im in de smokehouse 'til mornin', but dey diden' nobody tell Mistus nuffin' 'bout it.
"Us chilluns had to pick peas; two baskets full 'fo' dinner an' two 'fo' night, an' dey was big baskets too. I 'member dere was a white widow 'oman what lived near our place, an' she had two boys. Mistus let dem boys pick 'em some peas w'en us would be pickin', an' us would run 'em off, cause us diden' lak' po' white trash. But Mistus made us let 'em pick all dey wannid.
"I was 'bout twelve years old w'en freedom come, an' was big 'nough to wait on Mistus good den. I 'member how I used to run to de spring wid a little tin bucket w'en she wannid a fresh drink of water.
"Mos' of de slaves stayed with Mistus atter freedom come, 'cause dey all loved her, an' dey diden' have no place to go. Mistus fed 'em jes' lak' she had allus done and paid 'em a little money too. Us diden' never have no fussin' an' fightin' on our place, an' de Ku Klux Klan never come 'roun' dar, but de niggers had to have a ticket if dey lef' de place on Sunday. Dat was so de paddyrollers woulden' whip 'em if dey cotch 'em.
"All de niggers on de udder places, called us free niggers long 'fo' freedom come, 'cause we diden' have no whippin' post, an' if any of us jes' had to be whipped, Mistus would see dat dey warn't beat bad 'nough to leave no stripes.
"My pappy left de old Smith plantation, soon atter he got 'is freedom, an' went to Augusta, Georgia whar he died in jes' 'bout two years.
"I waked up one mornin' an' heered Mistus makin' a funny fuss. She was tryin' to git up an' pullin' at her gown. I was plum skeert an' I runned atter some of de udder folkses. Dey come a runnin' but she never did speak no mo', an' diden' live but jes' a few hours longer. De white folkses made me go to 'er funeral. Dere sho' was a big crowd of folkses dar, 'cause evvybody loved Mistus; she was so good to evvybody. Dey diden' preach long, mos'ly jes' prayed an' sung Mistus' favorite songs: 'All God's Chillun are a Gatherin' Home,' an', 'We'll Understand Bye an' Bye.'
"I lef' de old place not long atter Mistus died, 'cause hit was too lonesome dar an' I missed her so much. I come to town an' jes' wukked for white folkses. I doan' 'member all of 'em. But I cain' wuk no mo' now, an' hit woan' be so long 'til I see my old Mistus again, an' den I can still wait on her, an' we woan' have to part no mo'."
Ex-slave, Hawkinsville, Georgia (Interviewed in 1936)
Bern Elsie Moreland and a chattel of Mr. Jack Moreland, a planter of Mouston County, the subject is now known as simply "Aunt Elsie". Her story indicates that her mother was born in Virginia where, when she was sold into Georgia, she left a number of children born to her in her native state. These Virginia children --- half brothers and sisters of Elsie --- were never brought to Georgia, hence she never knew them. Apparently "Aunt Elsie" is about 85 years of age, and probably a little older than that. She was too young to marry until some time after freedom, but had a Georgia sister that married during slavery days. This sister, says she, was not married by a preacher or any one else, but simply went to housekeeping for a man, that then being the common custom of slave marriage on Mr. Moreland's plantation. Elsie's mother died when she --- the baby --- was too young to remember anything about her, though she well remembers her father --- a carpenter --- a valuable slave whom Mr. Moreland often hired out to other planters.
Her master, as she recalls, was a very kind man, though he and his wife "brushed" the little "Niggers" when they needed it --- as indeed "all children need brushing now and then" and he had his overseer use a whip on the grown-up slaves when they "needed" it.
As Mr. Moreland was a Methodist, all his slaves were Methodists, and the church was the only place --- beyond the plantation --- that they could go without a pass.
Of course, many of the Negroes took chances by often leaving home without procuring passes, trusting to luck to be able to dodge and outrun the "patarolers." In these particulars, they often exercised great cunning and developed wonderful speed. Since freedom, "Aunt Elsie" has "drifted around" quite a bit, living a normal ex-slave's life. Her husband is dead, and her children --- if she has any living --- are all gone from her, hence she is new completely alone in her old age. But, she is still spry enough to earn, as a laundress, sufficient to pay house rent and buy her modest necessities of life.
Matilda Mumford 1122 Marrison Street, Augusta, Ga. 92 years old (Barragan - Redford Interviewers)
