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LAURA CORNISH was born on the plantation of Isaiah Day, near Dayton, Texas. She "reckons I's 'bout twelve or
maybe thirteen years old when all de cullud folks was made free." Laura's memory is poor, but she made an effort to
recall slave days. She lives at 2915 Nance St., Houston, Texas.
"Lawd have mercy 'pon me, when you calls me Aunt Laura it seems jes' like you must be some of my white folks,
'cause dat what dey calls me. I mean Papa Day's chillen and dere younguns, when dey comes to see me. But it been
de long time since any of dem come to see old Aunt Laura, and I reckon dey most all gone now.
"You know where Dayton is at? Well, dat's where Papa Day's plantation was at and where I's borned. I don't know
when dat am, 'zactly, but when all de cullud folks was made free, I reckons I's 'bout twelve or thirteen years old.
"Mama's name was Maria Dunlap and daddy's name was Saul. Mamma was de seamstress and don't do nothin' but
weave cloth on de spinnin' wheel and make clothes. Daddy from Lake Providence. I heared him say, but I don't
know where at dat is. He do all de carpenter work. I has five sisters and two brothers, but dey heaps older dan me
and I don't know much 'bout dem.
"We 'longs to Papa Day, his name Isaiah, but us all call him Papa Day, 'cause he won't 'low none he cullud folks to
call him master. He say us is born free as he is, only de other white folks won't tell us so, and our souls is jes' as
white, and de reason us am darker on de outside is 'cause us is sunburnt. I don't reckon dere am anybody as good to
dere cullud folks as he was.
"Miss Martha, he wife, was mighty good, too. Does any us chillen git hurt or scratched, she fix us up and give us a
hug. I knows dey has two boys and a gal, and dey comes to see me long time after I's free and brings dere own
chillen. But my mem'ry am sort of foggy-like and I can't 'member dere names now.
"De only work Papa Day 'lows us chillen do am pick de boles close to de ground, and dat mostly fun, and us ride to
de house on de wagon what takes de pickin' at night. Papa Day don't make he cullud folks work Saturdays and
Sundays and dey can visit round on other plantations, and he say nobody better bother us none, either.
"One time us chillen playin' out in de woods and seed two old men what look like wild men, sho' 'nough. Dey has
long hair all over de face and dere shirts all bloody. Us run and tell Papa Day and he makes us take him dere and he
goes in de briar patch where dem men hidin'. Dey takes him round de knees and begs him do he not tell dere massa
where dey at, 'cause dey maybe git kilt. Dey say dey am old Lodge and Baldo and dey run 'way 'cause dere massa
whips dem, 'cause dey so old dey can't work good no more. Papa Day has tears comin' in he eyes. Dey can't hardly
walk, so he sends dem to de house and has Aunt Mandy, de cook, fix up somethin' to eat quick. I never seed sech
eatin', dey so hongry. He puts dem in a house and tells us not to say nothin'. Den he rides off on he hoss and goes to
dere massa and tells him 'bout it, and jes' dares him to come git dem. He pays de man some money and Lodge and
Baldo stays with Papa Day and I guess day thunk dey in Heaven.
"One mornin' Papa Day calls all us to de house and reads de freedom papers and say. 'De gov'ment don't need to tell
you you is free, 'cause you been free all you days. If you wants to stay you can and if you wants to go, you can. But
if you go, lots of white folks ain't gwine treat you like I does.'
"For de longest time, maybe two years, dey wasn't none of Papa Day's cullud folks what left, but den first one fam'ly
den 'nother gits some land to make a crop on, and den daddy gits some land and us leaves, too. Maybe he gits de
land from Papa Day, 'cause it ain't far from his plantation. Us sho' work hard on dat place, but I heared mama say
lots of times she wishes we stay on Papa Day's place.
"I 'member one year us don't make no crop hardly and daddy say he gwine git out 'fore us starves to death, and he
moves to Houston. He gits a job doin' carpenter work and hires me out for de housegirl. But mama dies and daddy
takes sick and dies, too. Lawd have mercy, dat sho' de hard time for me when I loses my mama and daddy, and I has
to go to Dayton and stay with my sister, Rachel. Both my husbands what I marries done been dead a long time now,
and de only child I ever had died when he jes' a baby. Now I's jes' alone, sittin' and waitin' for de Lawd to call me."
Cornish, Laura -- Additional Interview
Laura Cornish, living at 2915 Nance St., Houston, Tex., was born on the plantation of Isaiah Day, near Dayton,
Liberty Co., Texas. She does not know just when she was born, but she "reckons I'se 'bout 12 or mebbe 13 years old
when all de cullud folks was made free". She also stresses the fact that Mr. Day would allow no one to refer to the
colored people on his plantation as slaves or "niggers", insisting they were as free and white of soul as anyone, only
"jes' sunburnt on de outside".
"Lord have mercy 'pon me, when you calls me Aunt Laura it seems jes' like you mus' be some of my white folks,
'cause dat's what dey calls me,---I mean Papa Day's chillen an' dere young uns when dey use to come to see me. But
it's been a long time since any of 'em come to see old Aunt Laura, an' I reckon dey mos' all gone now.
"You know whar Dayton is at? Well, dat's whar papa Day's plantation was at an' whar at I was born. I don't know
jes' when I was born 'xactly; but when all de cullud folks was turned loose, you know, when dey was freed by de
Gov'ment, I was 'bout 12 or mebbe 13 years old.
"Mamma's name was Maria Dunlap an' daddy's name was Saul Dunlap. I don't rec'lec' whar mamma come from but
I hear her say it was somewhar here in Texas. She was de seamstress an' don't do nothin' but weave cloth on de
spinnin' wheel an' make clothes. Daddy was from Lake Providence I hear him say, but I don't know whar at dat is.
He does all de carpenter work 'round de plantation. I has five sisters an' two brothers, but dey is all lots older'n me
an' don't pay much mind to me, an' dat's 'bout all I knows 'bout my own folks. I s'pose mamma an' daddy has folks,
too, but dey wasn't on papa Day's place an' I don't rec'lec' hearin' 'em talk 'bout 'em.
"We belong to Mr. Day, his name was Isaiah Day, but we all calls him papa Day 'cause he won't 'low none of his
cullud folks to call him 'Master. He says we is born jes' as free as he is, only de other white folks won't tell us so, an'
dat our souls is jes' as white, an' de reason we is darker on de outside is 'cause we is sunburnt. I has hear of lots of
good white folks an' some bad white folks, but I don't reckon dere was anyone what was as good to de cullud folks
as he was.
"Mis' Martha, dat was his wife, was mighty good, too, an' do any of us chillen get hurt or scratched, she's de one we
goes to, an' she fixes us up with ointment or lin'ment 'pendin' on what de trouble is. Den she gives us a hug an' say
'now you be careful an' not get hurt no more'. Lord have mercy, I can hear her jes' as plain like it was only yestiddy.
I knows papa Day has two boys an' a girl, an' long time ago dey come to see me an' brings dere own chillen, but I
jes' can't 'member things so well no more an'
de Lord forgive me, but I jes' can't rec'lec' dere names now. Seems like some things I 'members all right, an' some
things I tries to think of what I has knowed 'bout is kinda foggy-like.
"I can't tell now how many cullud folks papa Day has on de plantation, but I knowed he had lots of 'em. 'Course I
was jes' young den, an' 'bout all I think of was playin' an eatin', an' we chillen sure did plenty of both of 'em. De only
work papa Day let us chillen do was in de cotton field in de Fall when de cotton was mos' picked. We picks de boles
close to de ground what was hard for de grown folks to get, an' dat wasn't much work, it's mostly fun, an' we gets to
ride to de house on de wagon what takes de pickin' in at night.
"But I rec'lec' 'sides de cotton, papa Day has lots of sugar cane, an' grinds de cane for 2 or 3 weeks an' makes de
sugar an' syrup right on de plantation. Den he raises lots of sheep an' hogs an' cattle, 'cause it takes lots to feed all de
folks on de place.
"No suh, dey ain't nobody can tell me dey has better white folks den papa Day. None of his cullud folks works
Sattidys an' Sundays. Dey has dat time off to do what dey wants to, mebbe visit 'round to de neighbor plantations,
an' we don't have to have no pass like de cullud folks do on de other plantations, I'se tellin' you de truth. An' no one
had better bother us none either, 'cause papa Day tell everyone if dey touch a hair on our head, dey better do a good
job an' kill us, 'cause he's goin' to kill de one what hurts us.
"Dey never was no whippin' on our place neither, 'cause papa Day say we is human bein's an' not beasts.
"I rec'lec's one time we chillen is playin' out near some woods whar dey is a big briar patch, an' we see two old men
what look like wild men sure 'nuff. Dey had long hair all over dere faces an' dere shirts was all bloody, an' when dey
see us lookin' dey hides down in de brush. Lord have mercy, we sure was scairt an' we run as fas' as we could to de
house an' tell pap Day what we has seen. He tells us to take him to whar we has seen de men an' we goes to de place
an' sure 'nuff dey is still dere. Papa Day goes in de briar patch an' me an' Lucy, one of de chillen I'se playin' with, go
'long, too, but de rest stays out, an' de old men takes papa Day 'round de knees an' begs him do he not tell dere
master whar dey is at 'cause dey get whipped some more an' mebbe kilt. Papa Day ask 'em who dey belong to, an'
dey say dey is old Lodge an' old Baldo an' dey has run 'way 'caused dey is old an' dere master whips 'em 'cause dey
can't work so good no more. I don't rec'lec' now who dey say dey belong to, but I 'member papa Day has tears
comin' in his eyes an' he says 'dat is de sin of sins, to bloody flesh dat way'.
"I don't know how long dey has hid in de briar patch, but dey can't hardly walk, an' papa Day sends me to de house
an' tells me to have Aunt Mandy, de cook, to fix up some food an' to hurry an' bring it back. Lord have mercy, I
never see sech eatin',---dere wasn't 'nough left for a ant to feed hisself, dey was so hungry.
"Dat's one time I see Papa Day mad. Um, um, he sure do rare. He tells de old men to stay whar dey is at 'til he gets
back, an' we goes to de house an' drives down to whar de po' old men is at an' brung 'em to de house an' doctors 'em
an' gives 'em some clean clothes. Den he tell everybody to min' dere own business an' not to stand 'round gawkin',
an' puts old Lodge an' Baldo in a house in de quarters by dere selves, an' tells us not to say nothin' to nobody 'bout
what we has seen. Den he gets on a horse an' rides off an' don't get back 'til most dark, an' you know what he done
when he ride off? He goes to de man what owned old Lodge an' Baldo an' tells him dey is at our place an' jes' dares
him to come an' try an' get 'em. Yes suh, dat's de truth 'cause Aunt Mandy hears him tell Mis' Martha 'bout it. I hears
later on he pays de man somethin' for 'em, 'cause dey stays right on our place an' jes' work a little 'round de yard. I
guess dey thought dey was in Heaven at papa Day's place.
"Now I tells you somethin' an' it's de truth, too. From way back to dat time to dis day, I can't eat no watermelon,
'cause de red meat look jes' like de bloody shirts of old Lodge an' Baldo, an' jes' to think of it 'bout makes me sick to
my stomach. Lord have mercy, dey was de awfulest sight I ever see.
"No suh, dey wasn't 'nother man in de world like papa Day. I rec'lec' in de summertime when it come 'bout 11
o'clock, he tell Aunt Mandy to ring de bell an' call de folks in from de field 'cause de sun was so hot, an' dey don't
go back to de field 'til de sun was on a good slant neither.
"On Sunday we has preachin' on de plantation. Papa Day do de preachin' an' 'fore long folks is clappin' hands an'
shoutin' an' singin'. He don't preach none 'bout us 'beyin' no white master or mistress, no suh, but he tell us we better
'bey de teachin' in de 'Good Book' an' serve de Lord. I 'members de two songs we sing de most is 'Amazin' Grace'
an' 'Am I Born to Die'. Lord have mercy, how we all sing an' thank de Lord for all de goodness.
"One mornin' papa Day calls all de folks up to de house an' reads 'em de freedom papers what de Gov'ment says to
read to all de cullud folks, an' when he finish readin' he say 'De Gov'ment don't need to tell you dat you is free,
'cause you has been free all your days. Now if you wants to stay you can, an' if you wants to go you can, but if you
go, white folks ain't goin' to treat you like I do'. Dat's jes' de words what he said.
"For de longest time, mebbe two years, dey wasn't none of papa Day's cullud folks what left, but den fust one fam'ly
den 'nother gets 'em some land to make a crop on, an' den we leaves, too, when daddy gets him some land.
"I don't rec'lec' how he gets it, mebbe from papa Day, 'cause it wasn't far from his place, but him an mamma an' me
goes to farmin' on it. My sisters an' brothers was all older'n me, an' dey was all married, an' papa Day had married
'em hisself outen de Book. Some of 'em stayed an' worked for papa Day, an' some had a place of dere own, but
daddy an' mamma an' me sure worked hard on our place, an' I hear mamma say lots of times she wish we stay on
papa Day's place.
"I don't rec'lec' jes' how long we stay on de farm, but I 'members one year we don't make no crop hardly, an' daddy
say he goin' to get out 'fore we starves to death, an' we comes to Houston. Right here whar at I lives now was jes' a
prairie den, jes' like de country. Daddy gets him a job as carpenter an' hires me out for a house girl, but I don't stay
long 'cause mamma took sick an' I had to nurse her 'til she die. Den daddy took sick right after mamma is buried an'
died of de rots. I don't 'member what else dey calls it what he died from.
"Lord have mercy, dat sure was a hard time for me when I lose my mamma an' daddy, an' I has to go back to Dayton
an' stay to my sister Rachel, an' I'se had a hard time since, 'cause both my husbands what I married has been dead a
long time, an' de only chile I had died when he was jes' a baby, an' I'se jes' alone, sittin' an' waitin' for de Lord to call
me."
B. E. Davis Madisonville, Texas District #8 (September 30, 1937 (No))
