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Fannie McCullough Driver, 80, was born a slave on January 19, 1857, on the Ben McCullough cotton plantation,
which was located on the bank of the Guadalupe River, near Seguin, Guadalupe County. Fannie's mother, Harriet
McCullough, who was brought from Tennessee to Texas by Ben McCullough. Harriet's husband, Jim McCullough,
and her six children were also brought to Texas. Fannie is the only surviving member. She says that Ben
McCullough was a reasonable master; her last master, a Mr. Foley, had a nephew, Stewart Foley, who made life
miserable for the slaves. Fannie remained with her parents until 1877, when she married Sol Driver, who was at that
time an experienced "broncobuster". Sol and Fannie had eight children, all boys, of whom only two still are living.
Sol died more than thirty years ago. Fannie married Jim Harvard. They had no children. Jim Harvard died years ago
and Fannie still refers to herself as Fannie Driver. Fannie did not have a chance to go to school during slavery, but
was fortunate to have gone for several years after emancipation. She lives with her son, Jim Driver, at 1304 Coleto
St., Austin.
"Mammy was brought f'om Tennessee to Texas by Mawster Ben McCullough. She was married in Tennessee to a
slave, Jim McCullough. Dey brought six chillun wid 'em to Texas. Mammy was light-colored, and she was low and
chunky, and putty heavy. Mammy was good to her kids. Den while she was in Texas, she had six more chillun. I
was de oldest girl of dat bunch. I am de only one ob all ob dem chillun dat is still livin'.
"My mammy done de cookin' fo' de McCulloughs, and fo' de slaves on de big plantation. Dere was a kitchen-place
in de big house where de slaves et. De workers had all kinds ob things to eat; meat, bacon, eggs, soups ob all kinds,
biscuits and cornpones. I don't remembah dat de slaves got special food on special days.
"Jim McCullough was my pappy. He was low and chunky. He worked in de fields all ob de time. Pappy had some
Injun blood in him, but he wasn't no full-blood one. Pappy died more'n thutty years ago; and den mammy soon died
after dat.
"De folks in de early days always called me Fan, but my real name was Fannie McCullough. I'm eighty years old,
and I was bawn on January 19, 1857, on Mawster Ben McCullough's cotton plantation. Dis place was on de bank ob
de Guadalupe River, somewhere near Seguin, I think.
"When I was a child I was awful playful and sassy. Well, I didn't play no tricks. I'd play at somethin' dat would
make me happy. I had a old yaller tom cat fo' a pet. Sometimes me and my sistah would be playin' and I'd hear dat
old tom a meowin' somewhere. I liked dat old pet ob our'n. One day old tom jes' died. I reckon I did miss dat pet. I
think dat me and one ob my brothaws went out and buried him. We jes' buried him around de house somewhere. Ob
'course we was small and didn't know no bettah. When I was a little girl I had all ob my time to mysef. Dat is, I
wasn't bothered much by de old folks. Our Mawster McCullough was putty good to us, even if he did whoop some
ob de slaves sometimes. But us slaves was never allowed to learn our A B C's on de plantation.
"Dere was one ob de mawster's girls, Viney, dat tried to whoop me once. Near de big house was de rock
store-house, where de provisions was kept. Sometimes us kids got hungry befo' meal-time, and we'd try to git some
food, somehow. It was nigh supper-time, and de door to de store-house was open. I jes' walked in and was goin' to
help mysef, when I run into Viney.
"'Fan, whut is yo'-all doin' in here?' she said.
"I was sassy, so I tell her, 'jes' 'cause I want to be in here.'
"'Fan,' she says, 'I've a good mind to slap yo'."
"But I was sassy and befo' she could slap me I run out ob de door, picked up a rock, and chunked it at her. I hit her
right in de back. She stahted to cryin' and went to de big house. I sure was scared den 'cause I thought dat de older
folks was sure goin' to whoop me. But Viney didn't tell on me, and I didn't git no whoopin'.
"I kain't remembah many dates, but when it comes to somethin' dat happened to me in my life, I kin remembah back
to de time when I was jes' beginnin' to walk. I sure kin'. I remembah how I crawled to a laghe ant-hill, and was
stung by a big red ant. My uncle, Abe Wright, grabbed me and walked mighty fast to where mammy was washin'
clothes on de bank ob de Guadalupe River. Tubs had been hauled to de bank ob de river, fires was made and de
washin' was done right dere. De washed clothes was den brought back to de big house and hung up to dry. The
Guadalupe was a very dangerous-lookin' river, and de water was very blue. While de wimmen was washin' de
clothes dey would sing songs. Some ob 'em made up songs while dey washed, but I don't remembah none ob de
words. Pappy and mammy was good singers.
"Mawster McCullough den sold us to a Mawster Foley. He had a cotton plantation near Hallettsville, Lavaca
County. Mawster Foley was putty good to us, but I believe dat we was owned by him when slavery ended, and he
never did tell us about it. A bunch ob Yankee soldiers come around and told us slaves de news.
"De Mawster had a nephew, Stewart Foley, dat sure was hard on de slaves. If Stewart caught any ob de niggers
huntin' or roamin' aroun' in de bottoms, or forests along de creek, he would git mad and staht to shootin' if dey
meddled wid him. One day Stewart was mad at pappy, and tried to shoot him but de bullet wouldn't go off.
"Stewart said, 'God must be wid dat nigger.'
"Stewart den ended up a regular murderer. One day he killed some woman's girl. I don't remembah her name. I think
dat he had promised to marry de girl, but didn't. I think she was in trubble. One day Stewart took dat girl on de hoss
wid him, went down to some creek or river, and shot her dead. Stewart was tried and hung. Dat's how he ended up.
We was always scared on de Foley plantation.
"I stayed wid my parents till I was about twenty years old. Durin' dat time we moved to a lot ob other fahms. One ob
'em was near New Braunfels, in Comal County. Another one was near San Marcos, in Hays County.
"At about twenty years I got married to Sol Driver. Sol was a hoss and mule breaker, and he also fahmed. He'd do
anything. Sol would go out and break anybody's hosses or mules. I think dat it was about five dollahs dat he got fo'
breakin' each hoss and mule. He unnderstood dem hosses and mules and was never hurt by 'em, not dat I can
recollect.
"Me and Sol was married by a white preachah, by de name ob Butler. I think dat it was about twelb miles to de
preachah's house, and back to de place where we lived. We walked every step ob de way. When we got back to our
place my pappy and Sol's pappy was arguin'.
"'We left yo' all in a good humor,' I say. 'Now yo' all is quarrelin'. Whut's wrong?'
"Dey never did tell us whut was wrong. Whatever it was I reckon dey thought dat it was done too late to do
anything. Me and Sol was done married. Yo' know how men is when dey is drunk, and pappy and Sol's pappy was
drunk. Dem men would drink brandy and whiskey.
"Me and Sol den lived wid my folks, fo' awhile. We had a room in de same cabin wid 'em. We got along all right.
We had eight chillun, all boys, and no girls. Dere is only two ob de boys living. De oldest boy, Jimmy, is in de
real-estate business. I think dat Jimmy is doin' about as good as he kin. Times is a little hard, yo' know. Abe is de
other boy and he is my baby boy. Abe is a carpenter.
"Sol died more'n thutty years ago. Den I married Jim Harvard. We didn't have no chillun. Den de doctah said dat
Jim had a tumor in his stomach and dat he was too old to be operated on, and he died. I know dat Jim was too old to
be operated on, 'cause he had a daughter dat was about fifty years old.
"Even after I got married I went to de fields and picked cotton and plowed de fields wid oxen. I still remembah dat
de names of dem oxen was Bep and Red. Dey was putty good to work wid. Dey never did run away wid me. Dem
oxen belonged to de men dat rented us de fahm. His name was Robert Lay. He sure was a good man to us. De Lay
fahm wasn't fur f'om de place where I was bawn.
"I had a chance to go to school after slavery. School was held in a old house. De teacher's name was Britton, a
nigger. He was fine to me and was good to all ob de chillun. Every Friday afternoon, Britton would make us march
out ob de school and around de flag pole. We'd sing:
'We will rally around de flag pole, Union forever, hurrah, boys, hurrah!
We will rally around de flag pole, Rally once again.
"We will shout de battle cry, We will shout fo' freedom. We will rally around de flag pole, Rally once again."
"I was a poor child, but now I'll never be a slave again, Shout to de battle cry ob freedom! We will rally around de
flag pole, once again, But, wel'' never be a slave again."
"After we marched around de flag pole and done our singin' we was ready to go home till de next Monday.
"I liked school and I was a fast learner. I always wanted to be a teacher, but I didn't go long enough fo' dat.
"Our last teacher was named Ball. He come f'om Ohio. Ball would walk around de room, and he would watch de
boys and girls. He sure wouldn't allow us to chaw wax in de room. We'd use resin fo' wax. Den dere was a sort ob
wax dat we got f'om de stalks ob sunflowers. If Ball caught one ob us wid wax in our mouths, he'd whoop us right
dere in de room. De other chillum would den git scared and not try to chaw no more wax.
"Ball got married and stayed here in Texas. He was den a grown man ob about thutty-five years, and I was about
sixteen. Ball wanted to marry me. He even asked pappy if he could marry me. I reckon dat pappy told him dat I was
too young. I liked teacher Ball all right, but I didn't love him."
Dibble, Fred, P.W. Beaumont, Jefferson, Dist. #3 (August 8, 1937 (Yes))
