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710 Griffin Place, N. W. Atlanta, Ga. July 25, 1930 by Geneva Tonsill AH ALAYS HAD A HARD TIME
Aunt Sally rocked back and forth incessantly. She mopped her wrinkled face with a dirty rag as she talked. "Ah was born fo' miles frum Commeron, Georgia, and was thirteen year old at surrender. Ah belonged to the Nash fambly -three ole maid sisters. My mama belonged to the Nashes and my papa belonged to General Burns; he was a officer in the war. There was six of us chilluns, Lucy, Malvina, Johnnie, Callie, Joe and me. We didn't stay together long, as we was give out to different people. The Mashes didn't believe in selling slaves but we was known as their niggars. They sold one once 'cause the other slaves said they would kill him 'cause he had a baby by his own daughter. So to keep him frum bein' kilt. they sold him.
"My mama died the year of surrender. Ah didn't fare wall after her death, Ah had sicha hard time. Ah was give to the Mitchall fambly and they done every cruel thing they could to me. Ah slept on the fle' nine years, winter and summer, sick or well. Ah never wore anything but a cotton dress, a shimmy and draw's. That 'oman didn't care what happened to the niggers. Sometime she would take us to church. We'd walk to the church house. Ah never went nowhere else. That 'oman tock delight in sellin' slaves. She'd lash us with a cowhide whip. Ah had to shift fur herself.
"They didn't mind the slaves matin', but they wanted their niggers to marry only amongst them an their place. They didn't 'low 'em to mate with other slaves from other places. When the wimmen had babies they was treated kind and they let 'em stay in. We called it 'lay-in', just about lak they do now. We didn't go to no herspitals as they do now. We jest had our babies and had a granny to catch 'em. We didn't have all the pain-easin'
medicines then. The granny would put a rusty piece of tin or a ax under the mattress and this would ease the pains.
The granny put a ax under my mattress once. This was to out off the after-pains and it she did too, honey. We'd set up the fifth day and after the 'layin-in' time wus up we was 'lowed to walk out doors and they tole us to walk around the house jest once and come in the house. This was to keep us frum takin' a 'lapse.
"We wuzn't 'lowed to go around and have pleasure as the folks does today. We had to have passes to go wherever we wanted. When we'd git out there was a bunch of white man called the 'patty rollars'. They'd come in and see if all us had passes and if they found any who didn't have a pass he was whipped; give fifty or more lashes---and they'd count the lashes. If they said a hundred you got a hundred. They was somethin' lak the Klu Klux. We was 'fraid to tell our masters about the patty rollers because we was skeered they'd whip us again, fur we was tole not to tell. They'd sing a little ditty. Ah wish Ah could remember the words, but it want somethin' lak this:
'Run, Niggah, run, de Patty Rollers'll git you, Run Niggah, run, you'd bettah git away.'
"We was 'fraid to go any place.
"Slaves were treated in most cases lak cattle. A man went about the country buyin' up slaves lak buyin' up cattle and the like, and he was called a 'speculater', then he'd sell 'em to the highest bidder. Oh! it was pitiful to see chil'en taken from their mothers' breast, mothers sold, husbands sold frum wives. One 'oman he wus to buy had a baby. of course the baby come befo' he bought her and he wouldn't buy the baby; said he hadn't bargained to buy the baby too, and he jest wouldn't. My uncle was married but he was owned by one master and his wife was owned by another. He was 'lowed to visit hie wife on Wednesday and Saturday, that's the onliest time he could git off.
He went on Wednesday and when he went back on Saturday his wife had been bought by the speculator and he never did know where she was.
"Ah worked hard always. Honey, you can't 'magine what a hard time Ah had. Ah split rails lak a man. How did Ah do it? Ah used a huge glut, and a iron wedge drove into the wood with a maul, and this would split the wood.
"Ah help spin the cotton into thread fur our clothes. The thread wus made into big broaches --- four broaches made four outs, or one bank. After the thread was made we used a loom to weave the cloth. We had no sewin' machins---had to sew by hand. My mistress had a big silver bird and she would always catch the cloth in the bird's bill and this would hold it fur her to sew.
"Ah didn't git to handle money when I was young. Ah worked from sunup to sundown. We never had overseers lak some of the slaves. We was give so much work to do in a day and if the white folks went off on a vacation they would give us so much work to do while they was gone and we better have all of that done too when they'd come home. Some of the white folks was very kind to their slaves. Some did not believe in slavery and some freed then befo' the war and even give 'em land and homes. Some would give the niggers meal, lard and lak that. They made me hoe when Ah was a chile and Ah'd keep rat up with the others, 'cause they'd tall me that if Ah got behind a run-a-way nigger would git me and split open my head and git the milk out'n it. Of course Ah didn't knew then that wuzn't true --- Ah believed everything they tole me and that made me work the harder.
"There was a white man, Mister Jim, that was very mean to the slaves. He'd go 'round and beat 'em. He'd even go to the little homes, tear down the chimneys and do all sorts of cruel things. The chimneys was made of mud 'n straw 'n sticks; they was powerful strong too. Mister Jim was jest a mean man, and when he died we all said God got tired of Mister Jim being so mean and kilt him. When they laid him out on the coolin' board, everybody was settin' 'round, moanin' ever his death, and all of a sudden Master Jim rolled off'n the coolin' board, and sich a runnin' and gittin' out'n that room you never saw. We said Mister Jim was tryin' to run the niggars and we was 'fraid to go about at night. Ah believed it then; now that they's 'mbalmin' Ah know that must have been gas and he was purgin', fur they didn't know nothin' 'bout 'mbalmin' then. They didn't keep dead folks out'n the ground long in them days.
"Doctors wusn't so plentiful them. They'd go 'round in buggies and on hosses. Them that rode on a hoss had saddle pockets jest filled with little bottles and lots of them. He'd try one medicine and if it didn't do not good he'd try another until it did do good and when the doctor went to see a sick pusson he'd stay rat there until he was better. He didn't jest come in and write a 'scription fur somebody to take to a drug store. We used herbs a lots in them days. When a body had dropsy we'd set him in a tepid bath made of mullein leaves. There was a jinson wood we'd use fur rheumatism, and fur astha we'd use tea made of chestnut leaves. We'd sit the chestnut leaves, dry them in the sun jest lak sun leaves, and we wouldn't let them leaves git wet fur nothin' in the world while they was dryin'. We'd take pcke saled roots, boil them and then take sugar and make a syrup. This was the best thing fur asthma. It was known to cure it too. Fur colds and sich we used he'hound; made candy out'n it with brown sugar. We used a lots of reek candy and whiskey fur colds too. They had a remedy that they used fur consumption - take dry cow manure, make a tea of this and flaver it with mint and give it to the sick person. We didn't need many doctors them fur we didn't have so much sickness in them days, and nachally they didn't die so fast; folks lived a long time then. They used a lot of peachtree leaves too for fever, and when the stomach got upset we'd crush the leaves, pour water over them and wouldn't let them drink any other kind of water 'till they was better. Ah still believes in them ole he'made medicines too and Ah don't believe in so many doctors.
"We didn't have stoves plentiful them; just evens we set in the fireplace. Ah's toted a many a armful of bark _ good ole hickory bark to cook with. We'd cook light broad - both flour and corn. The yeast fur this bread was made frum hops. Coals of fire was put on top of the oven and under the bottom, too. Everything was cooked on coals frum a wood fire - coffee and all. Wait, let me show you my coffee tribet. Have you ever seen one? Well, Ah'll show you mine." Aunt Sally got up and hobbled to the kitchen to get the trivet. After a few moments search she came back into the room.
"No, it's not there. Ah guess it's been put in the basement, Ah'll show it to you when you come back. It's a rack made of iron that the pot is set on befo' puttin' it on the fire coals. The victuals was good in them days; we got our vegetables out'n the garden in season and didn't have all the hothouse vegetables. Ah don't eat many vegetables now unless they come out'n the garden and I know it. well, as I said, there was racks fitted in the fireplace to put pots on. Once there was a big pot settin' on the fire, jest bilin' away with a big roast in it. As the water boiled, the meat turned over and over, comin' up to the top and goin' down again. Ole Sandy, the dog, come in the kitchen. He sot there a while and watched that meat roll over and over in the pot, and all of a sudden-like he grabbed at that meet and pulls it out'n the pot. 'Course he couldn't eat it 'cause it was hot and they got the meat befo' he et it. The kitchen was away from the big house, so the vistuals was cooked and carried up to the house. Ah'd carry it up mahse'f. We didn't eat all the differentt all of vistuals the white folks et and one mornin' when I was carryin' the big pot to the big home we had waffles that was a pretty golden brown and pipin' hot. They was a picture to lock at and Ah jest couldn't keep frum takin' one, and that was the hardest waffle far me to eat bafe' I got to the big homes I ever saw. Ah jest couldn't git rid of that waffle 'cause my conscience whipped me so.
"They taught me to de everything. Ah'd use battlin' blocks and battlin' sticks to wash the clothes; we all did. The clothes was taken out of the water on put on the black ant bent with a battlin' stick, which was made like a puddle. On much days you could hear then battlin' sticks poundin' every which-away. we made our own soap, used ole meat and grease, and poured water over wood ashes which was kept in a rack-like thing and the water would drip through the ashes. This made strong lye. We wood a lot 'o sich lye, too. to bile with.
"Sometimes the slaves would run away. Their masters was mean to them that caused them to run away. Sometimes they would live in caves. How did they get along? Well, chile, they got along all right-what with other people slippin' things in to 'em. And, too, they'd steal hogs, chickens, and anything else they could git their hands on. Some white people would help, too, fur there was some white people who didn't believe in slavery. Yes, they'd try to find them slaves that run away and if they was found they'd be beat or sold to somebody else. My grandmother run away frum her master. She stayed in the woods and she washed her clothes in the branches. She use sand fur soap. Yes. chile, I reckon they got 'long all right in the caves. They had babies in thar and raised 'em, too.
"Ah stayed with the Mitchells 'til Miss Hannah died. Ah even helped to lay her sat. Ah didn't go to the graveyard though. Ah didn't have a home after she died and Ah wandered frum place to place, stayin' with a white fambly this time and then a nigger fambly the next time. Ah moved to Jackson County and stayed with a Mister Frank Dowdy. Ah didn't stay there long though. Them Ah moved to Winder, Georgia. They called it 'Jug Tavern' in them days, 'cause jugs was made there. Ah married Green Hinton in Winder. Got along well after marryin' him. He farmed for a livin' and made a good livin' fur me and the eight chillun, all born in Winder. The chillun was grown nearly when he died and was able to help me with the smalles ones. Ah got along all right after his death and didn't have sich a hard time raisin' the chilluns. Then Ah married Jim Brown and moved to Atlanta. Jim farmed at first fur a livin' and then he worked on the railroad _ the seabound. He helped to grads the first railroad track for that line. He was a sand-dryer."
Aunt Sally broke off her story here. "Lord, honey, Ah got sich a pain in mah stomach Ah don't believe Ah can go on. It's a gnawin' kind 'e pain. Jest keeps me weak all over." Naturally I suggested that we complete the story at another time. So I left, promisin' to return in a few days. A block from the house I stepped in a store to order some groceries for Aunt Sally. The propriotree, a Jewish woman, spoke up when I gave the delivery address. She explained in broken English that she knew Aunt Sally.
"I tink you was very kind to de dis for Aunt Sally. She needs it. I often gif her som food. He's very old and feeble. He passes here yesterday and he look so wasted and hungry. His stomick look like it was drawn in, you knew. I gif him some fresh hocks. I knew day could not eat all of them in a day and I'm afrait it won't be good far dem today. I was trained to help people in need. It's part of my religion. See, if we sit on de stritcar and an olt person comes in and finis no seat, we got up and gif him one. If we see a person loaded vid bundles and he is old and barley able to go, we gif a hand. See, ve Jews --- you colored --- but we knew me difference. Anyvon neeting help, ve gif."
A couple of days later I was back at Aunt Sally's. I had brought some groceries for the old woman. I knockd a long time on the front door, and, getting me answer, I picked my way through the rank growth of weeds and grass surrounding the house and went around to the back door. It opened into the kitchen, where Aunt Sally and her son were having breakfast. The room was small and dark and I could hardly see the couple, but Aunt sally welcomed me. "Land, honey, you come right on in. I tole John I heard somebody knockin' at the do'."
"You been hearin' things all morin'," John spoke up. He turned to me, "You must've been thinkin' about momma just when we started eatin' breakfast because she asked me did I hear somebody call her. I tole her the Lawd Jesus is always a-callin' poor niggers, but she said it sounded like the lady's voice who was here the other day. Wall I didn't hear anything and I tole her she she mus' be hearin' things."
I'd put the bag of groceries on the table unobtrusively, but Aunt Sally wasn't one to let such gifts pass unnoticed. Eagerly she tore the bag open and began pulling out the packages, "Lawd bless you, chile, and He sho will bless you? I feals rich seain' what you brought me. Jest look at this -- Lawdyy marcy? -- rolls, butter, milk, balogney Oh, this balogney, jest locky there! You must a knowed what I wanted!" She was stuffing it in her mouth as she talked. "And those aigs...! Honey, you knows Ced is gain' to bless you and let you live long. Ah'se goin' to cook one at a time. and Ah she been wantin' some milk. Ah'se gonna cook me a hoecake right now."
She went about putting the things in little cans and placing them on shelves or in the dilapidated little cupboard that stood in a corner. I sat down near the door and listened while she rambled on.
"Ah used to say young people didn't care bout ole folks but Ah is takin' that back now. Ah jest tole my sen the other day that its turned round, the young folks thinks of the ole and tries to help 'em and the ole folks don't try to think of each other; some of them, they is too mean. Ah can't understand it; Ah jest know I heard you call me when Ah started to eat, and tale my son so. Had you been to the de' befo'? She talked on not waiting for a reply. "Ah she did enjoy the victuels you sent day before" yistidy. They sand me surplus food frum the gove'nment but Ah don't like what they send. The skim milk gripes me and Ah don't like that yellow meal. A friend brought me some white meal t'ether day. And that wheat cereal they send! Ah eats it with water when Ah don't have milk and Ah don't like it but when you don't have nothin' else you get to eat what you have. They send me 0.75 ever two weeks but that don't git very fur. Ah ain't complainin' fur Ah'm thankful fur what Ah git.
"They sand a girl to help me around the house, too. She's frum the housekeepin' department. She's very nice to me. Yes, she sho'ly is a sweet girl, and her foreman is sweet too. She comes in now 'm than to see me and see how the girl is gittin' along. She washes, tee. Ah's been on relief a long time. How when Ah first got en it was when they first started givin me. They give me planty of anything Ah asked fur and my visitor was Mrs. Tompkins. She was so good to me. Well they stopped that and then the DPW (Department of Public Welfare) took care of me. Then they first started Ah get more than I do now and they've cut me down 'till Ah gits only a mighty little.
"Yes, Ah was talkin' about my husband when you was here t'other day. He was killed em the railroad. After he moved here he bought this home. Ah'se lived here twenty years. Jim was comin' in the railroad yard one day and stopped off the little engine they used for the workers rat in the path of the L.& H. train. He was out up and crushed to pieces. He didn't have a sign of a head. They used a rake to git up the pieces they did git. A man brought a few pieces out hers in a bundle and Ah wouldn't even look at them.
Ah got a little money from the railroad but the lawyer got most of it. He brought me a few dollars out and tole me not to discuss it with anyone nor tell how much Ah got. Ah tried to git some of the men that worked with him to tell me just how it all happened, but they wouldn't talk, and it was sound'less how them niggers held their peace and wouldn't tell me anything. The boss man come out later but he didn't seem intrusted in it at all, so Ah got little or nothing fur his death. The lawyer got it fur hisse'f.
"All my chilluns died 'sept my son and he is ole and sick and can't do nothin' fur me or hisse'f. He gets relief too,
0.75 every two weeks. He goes 'round and people gives him a little t'eat. We has a hard time tryin' to git 'long.
"Ah had a double bed in t'other room and let a woman have it so she could git some of the delegates to the Baptist World Alliance and she was goin' to pay me fur lettin' her use the bed, but she didn't git anybody 'cept two. They came there on Friday and left the next day. She was tole that they didn't set right 'bout the delegates and lots of people went to the expense to prepare fur them and didn't git a one. Ah was sorry, fur Ah intended to use what she paid me for my water bill. Ah owes $5.00 and had to give my deeds to my house to a lady to pay the water bill fur me and it worries me 'cause Ah ain't got me money to pay it, fur this is all Ah got and Ah hates to loose my house. Ah wisht it was some way to pay it. Ah ain't been able to do fur mahse'f in many years new, and has to depend on what others gives me.
"Tell you mo' about the ole times? Lawd, honey, times has changed so frum when Ah was young. You don't hear of haints as you did when I grewed up. The Lawd had to show His work in miracles 'cause we didn't have learnin' in them days as they has now. And you may not believe it but them things happened. Ah knews a old man what died, and after his death he would come to our house where he always cut weed, and at night we could hear a chain bein' drug along in the yard, jest as if a big log-chain was bein' pulled by somebody. It would drag on up to the woodpile and stop, then we could hear the thump-thump of the ax on the wood. The woodpile was near the chimney and it would chop-chop on, then stop and we could hear the chain bein' drug back the way it come. This went on fur several nights until my father got tired and one night after he head it so long, the chop-chop, papa got mad and hollered at the haint, 'G--- D... you, go to hell!!!' and that spirit went off and never did come back!
"We'd always know somebody was goin' to die when we heard a owl come to a house and start screechin'. we always said, 'somebody is gwine to die!' Honey, you don't hear it now and it's good you don't fur it would skeer you to death nearly. It sounded so mo'nful like and we'd put the poker or the shovel in the fire and that always run him away; it burned his tongue out and he couldn't holler no more. If they'd let us go out lak we always wanted to, Ah don't 'spects we'd a-done it, 'cause we was too skeered. Lawdy, chile, them was tryin' days. Ah sho is glad God let me live to see these 'une.
"Ah tried to git the ole-age pension fur Ah sho'ly needed it and wiz 'titled to it too. Sho was. But that visitor jest wouldn't let me go through. She acted lak that money belonged to her. Ah 'plied when it first come out and shoulda been one of the first to get one. Ah worried powerful much at first fur Ah felt how much better off Ah'd be. Ah wouldn't be so dependent lak Ah'm is now. Ah 'spects you knows that 'oman. She is a big black 'oman --- was named Smith at first befo' she married. She is a Johns now. She sho is a mean 'oman. She jest wouldn't do no way. Ah even tole her if she let me go through and Ah got my pension Ah would give her some of the money Ah got, but she jest didn't do no way. She tole me if Ah was put on Ah'd get no more than Ah was gittin'. Ah sho believes them thats on gits more'n 0.75 every two weeks. Ah sho had a hard time and a roughety road to travel with her my visitor until they sent in the housekeeper. Fur that head 'oman jest went rat out and got me some clothes. Everything Ah needed. When Ah tole her how my visitor was doin' me she jest went out and cone rat back with all the things Ah needed. Ah don't know why my visitor done me lak that. Ah said at first it was because I had this house but honey what could Ah do with a house when Ah was hongry and not able to work. Ah always worked hard. 'Course Ah didn't git much fur it but Ah lak to work fur what Ah gits."
Aunt Sally was beginning to repeat herself and I began to suspect she was talking just to please me. So I arose to go.
"Lawsy mercy, chile, you sho is sweet to set here and talk to a ole 'oman lak me. Ah sho is glad you come. Ah tole my son you was a bundle of sunshine and Ah felt so much better the day you left - and heah you is again! Chile, my nose wuzn't itchin' fur nothin'! You come back to see me real soon. Ah'se always glad to have you. And the Lawd's gonna sho go with you fur bein' so good to me."
My awareness of the obvious fulsomeness in the old woman's praise in no way detracted from my feeling of having done a good deed. Aunt Sally was a clever psychologist and as I carefully picked my way up the weedy path toward the street, I felt indeed that the "Lawd" was "sho goin'" with me.
EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW"
