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Ruth A. Chitty - Research Worker
(Ruth A. Chitty, Research Worker)
SLAVERY DAYS AS RELATED BY SNOVEY JACKSON
Aunt Snovey Jackson, crippled and bent with rheumatism, lives in a cabin set in the heart of a respectable white neighborhood. Surrounded by white neighbors, she goes her serene, independent way. The years have bequeathed her a kindly manner and a sincere interest in the fairness and justice of things. Wisdom and judgment are tempered with a sense of humor.
"My name is Snovey Jackson - S-n-o-v-e-y, dat's the way I spells it. O' ain't nary 'nother Snovey Jackson in de South. I was bawned in Clarksville, Va., and owned by one Captain Williams of Virginia. I don' know jes' 'zackly how old I is, but I must be 'bout 80.
"I was jes' a small chap 'bout three or fo' years old when my folks 'cided to come to Georgia to raise cotton. You see we didn't raise no cotton in Virginia - nutten' 'cept wool and flax. De people in Virginia heard 'bout how cotton was growed down here and how dey was plenty o' labor and dey come by the hund'eds to Georgia. Back in dem days dey warn't no trains, and travel was slow, so dey come in gangs down here. Jes' like dey had de boom down in Florida few years back, dat's de way people rushed off to Georgia to git rich quick on cotton.
"When they got here it warn't nutten' like dey thought it was go'n be. Dey thought dey could make cotton 'dout no trouble, and dey'd rake in de money. My folks lef' me in Virginia 'cause I was too li'l' to be any help, and dey thought dey could get plenty o' cheap labor here. (I'se talkin' 'bout fo' de war broke out.) Of course Virginia was a slave breedin' state, and niggers was sold off jes' like stock. Families was all broke up and never seed one 'nother no mo'.
"I don't even know who my mother and father was. I never knowed what 'come of 'em. Me and my two little brothers was lef' in Virginia when Captain Williams come to Georgia. De specalators got hol' o' us, and dey refugeed us to Georgia endurin' o' de war. Niggers down here used to be all time axin' me where my folks was, and who dey was - I jes' tell 'em de buzzards laid me and de sun hatch me.
"After we was brought to Georgia Mr. James Jackson bought me. I never knowed what 'come of my brothers. The specalators had tried to keep us together, but we got all separated. I ain't got no kin in the world today dat I knows 'bout.
"De Jacksons owned a plantation in Baldwin County, out dey sold it and moved to LaGrange, Georgia. We lived dere 'til after de war was on, den dey move back to Baldwin County. Old Miss lost her son-in-law, and later her husband died, den her daughter died. She had a little grandchild, a boy, her daughter's child, to raise. She used to say she had two pets, one pet black child and one pet white child. She was good to me. I never got no punishin's.
"Old Miss had a lot of kin folks here - high class folks. Dey was stomp down Virginians, too. Dey use to call me dey kin. Miss Kizzie Weiderman was a niece o' old Miss Jackson's, and she used to come down the street and say, 'Look here, ain't dat some o' my kin?. - Come shake hands wid me.' Miss Kizzie was a sight. She alluz say when she die she want all her nigger kin to come and look on her dead body.
"Finally old Miss got dissatisfied and she 'cided de best thing for her to do was to sell her home and farm here and go to Chicago to live wid her son. Dat lef' me to seek 'nother home, 'cause I didn't want to go off up dere. So we parted.
"I come to town den('it was in 1877) and found work wid de
Agent o' the Central o' Georgia Railroad here in Milledgeville. My Mistis den was Mrs. Ann Bivins. She was good to me, and when they went away, she say, 'Snovey, ef'n I had the money, nuttin' but death could separate me and you.' Den the Nesbits was made de Agent, and I work fifty years at dat Central depot. I used to get up eve'y mawnin' and cook breakfas' for all de section hands, den I'd go to de house and cook for de family. Child, I jes' worked myself to death. All my folks gone away now. De Nesbits live in Florida. I sends 'em a bag o' nuts eve'y Christmas, and dey sends me a box o' oranges. Sometime dey comes here to see me.
"I mus' tell you how de Yankees done when dey come th'ough here. I was wid old Miss Jackson at dat time. We live over de river. I was a small chap not big enough to do nothing much 'cept nuss old Miss. We heerd de Yankees was comin', and did dey ruin eve' thing! Why Milledgville ville was jes' tore up; twon't nuttin mo'n a cow pasture when de Yankees got th'ough wid it. Dey tuck all de stock and cattle what folks had, and burned and 'stroyed eve'ything. After de war was breakin' up, we heerd de soldiers was comin' through here and was go'n pass Town Creek on de way to Sparta, and on from Sparta to Warrenton, and from Warrenton to Augusta. I lost record after dat. Some said it was go'n be 15,000 soldiers passing th'ough. We all wanted to see them. I axed old Miss to lemme go to Sand Town to see 'em. She lemme go. Hit was a crowd of us went in a big wagon. We did see 'bout 5,000 soldiers. I was 'bout 8 or 9 years old. I 'members jes' as well how dey looked - some of 'em had canteens. Dey was tryin' to git back home. Dey seemed all bewildered like. I had alluz been skeered o' soldiers, but after I seen dem I warn't skeered no mo'.
"I had alluz wanted to own a little piece of land, and have me a one room hut like other niggers had. After I started to cookin' for de white folks at de Central depot, I 'cided I'd buy me a home. So I got my eyes on a piece of property I wanted and I started to 'vestigatin' it. It seemed like a heap o' money and me making sech a li'l' bit. I found out Mrs. Ann duBignon owned de square I wanted, so I went to see her son, de lawyer. He say, 'Snovey, you can't buy dat lot. You ain't got a chance in de world to pay for it.'
"I warn't satisfied wid dat, so I walked out to where old Miss Ann lived at Scottsboro, and I talked to her. She say she was anxious to git a buyer, but she didn't want to worry wid small payments on it, and if I could finance it, she'd sell. Well, I studied and studied, and I figgered and figgered, and my little wages for a whole year, even if I didn't spend a penny for nuttin', was mighty little. So I went down to see Mr. Samuel Walker. He owned jes' 'bout all de land in Baldwin County what he had got by loans to people dat give de land as security and never could pay off. So we talked things over, and he let me have de money to pay Miss for de square. Mind you dis here was all jes' a field and woods den. Look at it now!" She proudly pointed out the modern homes and streets.
"At de end of dat fus' year, here come Mr. Walker. 'Well, Snovey, how you gittin' 'long?' he say.
"'I'se gittin' 'long fine Mr. Walker.'
"'Well, what you go'n' do 'bout dis land?'
"I was ready for him. He thought he was go'n' come down and take de land, 'cause he knowed I didn't have de money to pay off. But I was waitin' fer him.
"'I'se ready, Mr. Walker, to settle up.' Was he surprised! He sho' was disappointed. Lot o' folks has wanted my property. Finally Judge Allen persuaded me to sell him enough to build his home. Den Mr. Bone come 'long, and he wanted to build here. So you see I done sold off several lots, and I still owns part o' my square. Dis here old nigger been de foundation of dem homes you see dere.
"I could be a grand counselor now. If I could live my days over I'd show 'em all sumpin'. Like a rollin' stone, up and down, so de world go'n' move on. I been a heap o' help to folks in my day. I done made a way out o' no way.
"I ain't never married, never had no chillun, and de niggers says I alluz been a house-bird. I suffers a heap wid rheumatism now.' Dat's de reason you see me all bent over disaway. I can't hardly raise up from my waist. I looks mighty feeble but I done out-lived a lot o' 'em. Some years ago when dey was buildin' dat fine home up dere on de lot they bought from me, de contractor boarded right across dere from me wid Mrs. Sims, and he used to say, 'Aunt Snovey, how 'bout sellin' me dis corner lot to build me a marble house on? You might not be here much longer, and I sho' love to have dis corner lot.'
"I used to laugh and tell him I might eat de goose dat ate de grass dat growed on his grave. Sho' 'nough, he died here some years ago."
"Aunt Snovey, what are you going to do with all your property - you have no family and no relatives?"
"Well, dis property was here when I come here."
"Haven't you made a will?"
"Me? No mam. Some fellow'll git it. I can't say who'll git it. I better not say."
"Aunt Snovey, I would like so much to have these old chairs you have here - how about selling them to me?"
"Child, I can't tell you de folks is wanted dem chairs. I has to have sumpin' to use. Folks done traded me out o' fust one thing then another. You see dat table? Mrs. Bone up here swapped me one she had for one I had she wanted. I ain't worrying about what's go'n' become o' things when I'se gone. It was all here when I come here, and it'll be here when I die.
"I'se a old-fashioned Missionary Baptis'. I used to go to de white folks' church. Dat's where I got my dip. We fared a heap better back in dem times dan we does now."
"Aunt Snovey do you have any pet superstitions?"
"Go on way from here, child, I ain't got nuttin' to do wid superstitions. My old Miss never 'lowed me to believe in no signs and sech like. I could dig up a lot of sorrow in my life, but dat wouldn't do no good.
"I never did believe in bumpin' 'bout, so dat's why I settled down here and made up my mind to have me a home. You see dis ain't no fine home, but it's mine and it's paid for. Some day when I can afford it, I'se go'n' try to finish de inside o' dis house. I got one room ceiled, and maybe some day I can finish it. I don't believe in taking on no bigger load dan I can git up de hill wid. I'se seed folks go th'ough de machinery o' extravagance, and it'll eat you up sho'. I'se skeerd o' debts as I is o' a rattlesnake, but debts in de right sense makes you industrious, And I'se learned dis much - that a line fence and a dog creates more fuss dan anything in de world."
(DIST. 4., Louise McKinney, "Uncle Jake", Ex. Slave)
