Slave Narratives, Oklahoma

V >> Various >> Slave Narratives, Oklahoma

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I think I seen a haunt once, 'cause when I looked the second time,
what I seen the first time was gone.

When the War was over, mistress' son come home and he cleaned his guns
on my dress tail. It sho' stunk up my dress and made me sick too. He
told old mistress that niggers was free now. I went and told mammy
that old Betsy's son told her the niggers was free and what did he
mean. She said, "Shhhhhh!" They never did jest come out and tell us we
was free. We was free in July and mammy left in September. We lived in
Jordan Saline, out from Smith County. Then my mother give me to my
father 'cause she was married to another man. Her and my step-father
moved to Gilmore, Texas. They sent for me round 'bout Christmas and we
lived on Sampers' farm.

We lived so far out, we couldn't go to school, 'though they was for
us. We didn't own no land. Didn't nobody learn me to read and write.

Abe Lincoln was a good man. It was through Mr. Lincoln that God fit to
free us. I don't know much 'bout Jeff Davis and don't care nothing
'bout him. Booker T. Washington built that school through God. He used
to live in a cabin jest lak I done. He was sho' a great man.

I married Trole Kemp in 1883. I 'mind you they didn't marry in
slavery, they jest took up. Master jest give a permit. I am the mother
of 10 chillun and 5 grandchillun. Four of my chillun died young. Them
what's living is doing different things sech as: writing policy,
working on made work, housework, government clerk and hotel maid. One
is in the pen.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
[Date stamp: AUG 13 1937]

AMANDA OLIVER
Age 80 yrs.
Oklahoma City, Okla.

I 'membuh what my mother say--I was born November 9, 1857, in
Missouri. I was 'bout eight years old, when she was sold to a master
named Harrison Davis. They said he had two farms in Missouri, but when
he moved to northern Texas he brought me, my mother, Uncle George,
Uncle Dick and a cullud girl they said was 15 with 'im. He owned 'bout
6 acres on de edge of town near Sherman, Texas, and my mother and 'em
was all de slaves he had. They said he sold off some of de folks.

We didn't have no overseers in northern Texas, but in southern Texas
dey did. Dey didn't raise cotton either; but dey raised a whole lots
of corn. Sometime de men would shuck corn all night long. Whenever dey
was going to shuck all night de women would piece quilts while de men
shuck de corn and you could hear 'em singing and shucking corn. After
de cornshucking, de cullud folks would have big dances.

Master Davis lived in a big white frame house. My mother lived in the
yard in a big one-room log hut with a brick chimney. De logs was
"pinted" (what dey call plastered now with lime). I don't know whether
young folks know much 'bout dat sort of thing now.

I slept on de floor up at de "Big House" in de white woman's room on a
quilt. I'd git up in de mornings, make fires, put on de coffee, and
tend to my little brother. Jest do little odd jobs sech as that.

We ate vegetables from de garden, sech as that. My favorite dish is
vegetables now.

I don't remember seeing any slaves sold. My mother said dey sold 'em
on de block in Kentucky where she was raised.

I don't remembuh when de War broke out, but I remembuh seeing the
soldiers with de blue uniforms on. I was afraid of 'em.

Old mistress didn't tell us when he was free, but another white woman
told my mother and I remembuh. One day old mistress told my mother to
git to that wheel and git to work, and my mother said, "I ain't
gwineter, I'm jest as free as you air." So dat very day my mother
packed up all our belongings and moved us to town, Sherman, Texas. She
worked awful hard, doing day work for 50c a day, and sometimes she'd
work for food, clothes or whatever she could git.

I don't believe in conjuring though I heard lotta talk 'bout it.
Sometimes I have pains and aches in my hands, feel like sometime dat
somebody puts dey hands on me, but I think jest de way my nerves is.

I can't say much 'bout Abe Lincoln. He was a republican in favor of de
cullud folk being free. Jeff Davis? Yeah, the boys usta sing a song
'bout 'im:

Lincoln rides a fine hoss,
Jeff Davis rides a mule,
Lincoln is de President,
Jeff Davis is de fool.

Booker T. Washington--I guess he is a right good man. He's for the
cullud people I guess.

I been a Christian thirty some odd years. I've been here some thirty
odd years. Had to come when my husband did. He died in 1902. We
married in 18--I've forgot, but we went to de preacher and got
married. We did more than jump over de broom stick.

In those days we went to church with de white folks. Dey had church at
eleven and the cullud folks at three, but all of us had white
preachers. Our church is standing right there now, at least it was de
last time I was there.

I don't have a favorite song, theys so many good ones, but I like,
"Bound for the Promised Land." I'm a Baptist, my mother was a Baptist,
and her white folks was Baptist.

I have two daughters, Julia Goodwin and Bertha Frazier, and four
grandchildren, both of 'ems been separated. Dey do housework.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves

SALOMON OLIVER
Age 78 yrs.
Tulsa, Oklahoma.

John A. Miller owned the finest plantation in Washington County,
Mississippi, about 12-mile east of Greenville. I was born on this
20,000-acre plantation November 17, 1859, being one of about four
hundred slave children on the place.

About three hundred negro families living in box-type cabins made it
seem like a small town. Built in rows, the cabins were kept
whitewashed, neat and orderly, for the Master was strict about such
things. Several large barns and storage buildings were scattered
around the plantation. Also, two cotton gins and two old fashioned
presses, operated by horses and mules, made Miller's plantation one of
the best equipped in Mississippi.

Master John was quite a character. The big plantation didn't occupy
all his time. He owned a bank in Vicksburg and another in New Orleans,
and only came to the plantation two or three times a year for a week
or two visit.

Things happened around there mighty quick when the Master showed up.
If the slaves were not being treated right--out go the white overseer.
Fired! The Master was a good man and tried to hire good boss men.
Master John was bad after the slave women. A yellow child show up
every once in a while. Those kind always got special privileges
because the Master said he didn't want his children whipped like the
rest of them slaves.

My own Mammy, Mary, was the Master's own daughter! She married Salomon
Oliver (who took the name of Oliver after the War), and the Master
told all the slave drivers to leave her alone and not whip her. This
made the overseers jealous of her and caused trouble. John Santhers
was one of the white overseers who treated her bad, and after I was
born and got strong enough (I was a weakling for three-four years
after birth), to do light chores he would whip me just for the fun of
it. It was fun for him but not for me. I hoped to whip him when I grew
up. That is the one thing I won't ever forget. He died about the end
of the War so that's one thing I won't ever get to do.

My mother was high-tempered and she knew about the Master's orders not
to whip her. I guess sometimes she took advantage and tried to do
things that maybe wasn't right. But it did her no good and one of the
white men flogged her to death. She died with scars on her back!

Father use to preach to the slaves when a crowd of them could slip off
into the woods. I don't remember much about the religious things, only
just what Daddy told me when I was older. He was caught several times
slipping off to the woods and because he was the preacher I guess they
layed on the lash a little harder trying to make him give up
preaching.

Ration day was Saturday. Each person was given a peck of corn meal,
four pounds of wheat flour, four pounds of pork meat, quart of
molasses, one pound of sugar, the same of coffee and a plug of
tobacco. Potatoes and vegetables came from the family garden and each
slave family was required to cultivate a separate garden.

During the Civil War a battle was fought near the Miller plantation.
The Yankees under General Grant came through the country. They burned
2,000 bales of Miller cotton. When the Yankee wagons crossed Bayou
Creek the bridge gave way and quite a number of soldiers and horses
were seriously injured.

For many years after the War folks would find bullets in the ground.
Some of the bullets were 'twins' fastened together with a chain.

Master Miller settled my father upon a piece of land after the War and
we stayed on it several years, doing well.

I moved to Muskogee in 1902, coming on to Tulsa in 1907, the same year
Oklahoma was made a state. My six wives are all dead,--Liza, Lizzie,
Ellen, Lula, Elizabeth and Henrietta. Six children, too. George,
Anna, Salomon, Nelson, Garfield, Cosmos--all good children. They
remember the Tulsa riot and don't aim ever to come back to Oklahoma.

When the riot started in 1922 (I think it was), I had a place on the
corner of Pine and Owasso Streets. Two hundred of my people gathered
at my place, because I was so well known everybody figured we wouldn't
be molested. I was wrong. Two of my horses was shot and killed. Two of
my boys, Salomon and Nelson, was wounded, one in the hip, the other in
the shoulder. They wasn't bad and got well alright. Some of my people
wasn't so lucky. The dead wagon hauled them away!

White men came into the negro district and gathered up the homeless.
The houses were most all burned. No place to go except to the camps
where armed whites kept everybody quiet. They took my clothes and all
my money--$298.00--and the police couldn't do nothing about my loss
when I reported it to them.

That was a terrible time, but we people are better off today that any
time during the days of slavery. We have some privileges and they are
worth more than all the money in the world!

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves

PHYLLIS PETITE
Age 83 yrs.
Fort Gibson, Okla.

I was born in Rusk County, Texas, on a plantation about eight miles
east of Belleview. There wasn't no town where I was born, but they had
a church.

My mammy and pappy belonged to a part Cherokee named W. P. Thompson
when I was born. He had kinfolks in the Cherokee Nation, and we all
moved up here to a place on Fourteen-Mile Creek close to where Hulbert
now is, 'way before I was big enough to remember anything. Then, so I
been told, old master Thompson sell my pappy and mammy and one of my
baby brothers and me back to one of his neighbors in Texas name of
John Harnage.

Mammy's name was Letitia Thompson and pappy's was Riley Thompson. My
little brother was named Johnson Thompson, but I had another brother
sold to a Vann and he always call hisself Harry Vann. His Cherokee
master lived on the Arkansas river close to Webber's Falls and I never
did know him until we was both grown. My only sister was Patsy and she
was borned after slavery and died at Wagoner, Oklahoma.

I can just remember when Master John Harnage took us to Texas. We went
in a covered wagon with oxen and camped out all along the way. Mammy
done the cooking in big wash kettles and pappy done the driving of the
oxen. I would set in a wagon and listen to him pop his whip and
holler.

Master John took us to his plantation and it was a big one, too. You
could look from the field up to the Big House and any grown body in
the yard look like a little body, it was so far away.

We negroes lived in quarters not far from the Big House and ours was a
single log house with a stick and dirt chimney. We cooked over the hot
coals in the fireplace.

I just played around until I was about six years old I reckon, and
then they put me up at the Big House with my mammy to work. She done
all the cording and spinning and weaving, and I done a whole lot of
sweeping and minding the baby. The baby was only about six months old
I reckon. I used to stand by the cradle and rock it all day, and when
I quit I would go to sleep right by the cradle sometimes before mammy
would come and get me.

The Big House had great big rooms in front, and they was fixed up
nice, too. I remember when old Mistress Harnage tried me out sweeping
up the front rooms. They had two or three great big pictures of some
old people hanging on the wall. They was full blood Indians it look
like, and I was sure scared of them pictures! I would go here and
there and every which-a-way, and anywheres I go them big pictures
always looking straight at me and watching me sweep! I kept my eyes
right on them so I could run if they moved, and old Mistress take me
back to the kitchen and say I can't sweep because I miss all the dirt.

We always have good eating, like turnip greens cooked in a kettle with
hog skins and crackling grease, and skinned corn, and rabbit or possum
stew. I liked big fish tolerable well too, but I was afraid of the
bones in the little ones.

That skinned corn aint like the boiled hominy we have today. To make
it you boil some wood ashes, or have some drip lye from the hopper to
put in the hot water. Let the corn boil in the lye water until the
skin drops off and the eyes drop out and then wash that corn in fresh
water about a dozen times, or just keep carrying water from the spring
until you are wore out, like I did. Then you put the corn in a crock
and set it in the spring, and you got good skinned corn as long as it
last, all ready to warm up a little batch at a time.

Master had a big, long log kitchen setting away from the house, and we
set a big table for the family first, and when they was gone we
negroes at the house eat at that table too, but we don't use the china
dishes.

The negro cook was Tilda Chisholm. She and my mammy didn't do no
out-work. Aunt Tilda sure could make them corn-dodgers. Us children
would catch her eating her dinner first out of the kettles and when we
say something she say: "Go on child, I jest tasting that dinner."

In the summer we had cotton homespun clothes, and in winter it had
wool mixed in. They was dyed with copperas and wild indigo.

My brother, Johnson Thompson, would get up behind old Master Harnage
on his horse and go with him to hunt squirrels so they would go 'round
on Master's side so's he could shoot them. Master's old mare was named
"Old Willow", and she knowed when to stop and stand real still so he
could shoot.

His children was just all over the place! He had two houses full of
them! I only remember Bell, Ida, Maley, Mary and Will, but they was
plenty more I don't remember.

That old horn blowed 'way before daylight, and all the field negroes
had to be out in the row by the time of sun up. House negroes got up
too, because old Master always up to see everybody get out to work.

Old Master Harnage bought and sold slaves most all the time, and some
of the new negroes always acted up and needed a licking. The worst
ones got beat up good, too! They didn't have no jail to put slaves in
because when the Masters got done licking them they didn't need no
jail.

My husband was George Petite. He tell me his mammy was sold away from
him when he was a little boy. He looked down a long lane after her
just as long as he could see her, and cried after her. He went down to
the big road and set down by his mammy's barefooted tracks in the sand
and set there until it got dark, and then he come on back to the
quarters.

I just saw one slave try to get away right in hand. They caught him
with bloodhounds and brung him back in. The hounds had nearly tore him
up, and he was sick a long time. I don't remember his name, but he
wasn't one of the old regular negroes.

In Texas we had a church where we could go. I think it was a white
church and they just let the negroes have it when they got a preacher
sometimes. My mammy took me sometimes, and she loved to sing them
salvation songs.

We used to carry news from one plantation to the other I reckon,
'cause mammy would tell about things going on some other plantation
and I know she never been there.

Christmas morning we always got some brown sugar candy or some
molasses to pull, and we children was up bright and early to get that
'lasses pull, I tell you! And in the winter we played skeeting on the
ice when the water froze over. No, I don't mean skating. That's when
you got iron skates, and we didn't have them things. We just get a
running start and jump on the ice and skeet as far as we could go, and
then run some more.

I nearly busted my head open, and brother Johnson said: "Try it
again," but after that I was scared to skeet any more.

Mammy say we was down in Texas to get away from the War, but I didn't
see any war and any soldiers. But one day old Master stay after he eat
breakfast and when us negroes come in to eat he say: "After today I
ain't your master any more. You all as free as I am." We just stand
and look and don't know what to say about it.

After while pappy got a wagon and some oxen to drive for a white man
who was coming to the Cherokee Nation because he had folks here. His
name was Dave Mounts and he had a boy named John.

We come with them and stopped at Fort Gibson where my own grand mammy
was cooking for the soldiers at the garrison. Her name was Phyllis
Brewer and I was named after her. She had a good Cherokee master. My
mammy was born on his place.

We stayed with her about a week and then we moved out on Four Mile
Creek to live. She died on Fourteen-Mile Creek about a year later.

When we first went to Four Mile Creek I seen negro women chopping wood
and asked them who they work for and I found out they didn't know they
was free yet.

After a while my pappy and mammy both died, and I was took care of by
my aunt Elsie Vann. She took my brother Johnson too, but I don't know
who took Harry Vann.

I was married to George Petite, and I had on a white underdress and
black high-top shoes, and a large cream colored hat, and on top of all
I had a blue wool dress with tassels all around the bottom of it. That
dress was for me to eat the terrible supper in. That what we called
the wedding supper because we eat too much of it. Just danced all
night, too! I was at Mandy Foster's house in Fort Gibson, and the
preacher was Reverend Barrows, I had that dress a long time, but its
gone now. I still got the little sun bonnet I wore to church in Texas.

We had six children, but all are dead but George, Tish, and Annie
now.

Yes, they tell me Abraham Lincoln set me free, and I love to look at
his picture on the wall in the school house at Four Mile branch where
they have church. My grand mammy kind of help start that church, and I
think everybody ought to belong to some church.

I want to say again my Master Harnage was Indian, but he was a good
man and mighty good to us slaves, and you can see I am more than six
feet high, and they say I weighs over a hundred and sixty, even if my
hair is snow white.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves

MATILDA POE
Age 80 yrs.
McAlester, Okla.

I was born in Indian Territory on de plantation of Isaac Love. He was
old Master, and Henry Love was young Master. Isaac Love was a full
blood Chickasaw Indian but his wife was a white woman.

Old Master was sure good to his slaves. The young niggers never done
no heavy work till dey was fully grown. Dey would carry water to de
men in de field and do other light jobs 'round de place.

De Big House set way back from de road 'bout a quarter of a mile. It
was a two-story log house, and the rooms was awful big and they was
purty furniture in it. The furniture in de parlor was red plush and I
loved to slip in and rub my hand over it, it was so soft like. The
house was made of square logs and de cracks was filled out even with
the edges of de logs. It was white washed and my but it was purty.
They was a long gallery clean across de front of de house and big
posts to support de roof. Back a ways from de house was de kitchen and
nearby was de smokehouse. Old Master kept it well filled with meat,
lard and molasses all de time. He seen to it that we always had plenty
to eat. The old women done all de cooking in big iron pots that hung
over the fire. De slaves was all served together.

The slave quarters was about two hundred yards back of de Big House.
Our furniture was made of oak 'cepting de chairs, and dey was made out
of hackberry. I still have a chair dat belonged to my mammy.

The boys didn't wear no britches in de summer time. Dey just wore long
shirts. De girls wore homespun dresses, either blue or gray.

Old Master never hired no overseer for his slaves, but he looked after
'em hisself. He punished dem hisself too. He had to go away one time
and he hired a white man to oversee while he was gone. The only orders
he left was to keep dem busy. Granny Lucy was awful old but he made
her go to the field. She couldn't hold out to work so he ups and whips
her. He beat her scandalous. He cut her back so bad she couldn't wear
her dress. Old Master come home and my, he was mad when he see Granny
Lucy. He told de man to leave and iffen he ever set foot on his ground
again he's shoot him, sure!

Old Master had a big plantation and a hundred or more slaves. Dey
always got up at daylight and de men went out and fed de horses. When
de bell rang dey was ready to eat. After breakfast dey took de teams
and went out to plow. Dey come in 'bout half past 'leven and at twelve
de bell rung agin. Dey eat their dinner and back to plowing dey went.
'Bout five o'clock dey come in again, and den they'd talk, sing and
jig dance till bedtime.

Old Master never punished his niggers 'cepting dey was sassy or lazy.
He never sold his slaves neither. A owner once sold several babies to
traders. Dey stopped at our plantation to stay awhile. My mammy and de
other women had to take care of dem babies for two days, and teach dem
to nuss a bottle or drink from a glass. Dat was awful, dem little
children crying for they mothers. Sometimes dey sold de mothers away
from they husbands and children.

Master wasn't a believer in church but he let us have church. My we'd
have happy times singing an shouting. They'd have church when dey had
a preacher and prayer meeting when dey didn't.

Slaves didn't leave de plantation much on 'count of de Patrollers. De
patroller was low white trash what jest wanted a excuse to shoot
niggers. I don't think I ever saw one but I heard lots of 'em.

I don't believe in luck charms and things of the such. Iffen you is in
trouble, there ain't nothing gonna save you but de Good Lawd. I heard
of folks keeping all kind of things for good luck charms. When I was a
child different people gave me buttons to string and we called them
our charm string and wore 'em round our necks. If we was mean dey
would tell us "Old Raw Head and Bloody Bones" would git us. Grand
mammy told us ghost stories after supper, but I don't remember any of
dem.

I never did know I was a slave, 'cause I couldn't tell I wasn't free.
I always had a good time, didn't have to work much, and allus had
something to eat and wear and that was better than it is with me now.

When de War was over old Master told us we was free. Mammy she say,
"Well, I'm heading for Texas." I went out and old Master ask me to
bring him a coal of fire to light his pipe. I went after it and mammy
left pretty soon. My pappy wouldn't leave old Master right then but
old Master told us we was free to go where we pleased, so me an' pappy
left and went to Texas where my mammy was. We never saw old Master any
more. We stayed a while in Texas and then come back to de Indian
Territory.

Abe Lincoln was a good man, everybody liked him. See, I've got his
picture. Jeff Davis was a good man too, he just made a mistake. I like
Mr. Roosevelt, too.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves

HENRY F. PYLES
Age 81 yrs.
Tulsa, Okla.

Little pinch o' pepper----
Little bunch o' wool----

Mumbledy--Mumbledy----

Two, three Pammy Christy beans----
Little piece o' rusty iron----

Mumbledy--Mumbledy----

Wrop it in a rag and tie it wid hair,
Two fum a hoss an' one fum a mare----

Mumbledy, Mumbledy, Mumbledy----

Wet it in whiskey
Boughten wid silver;
Dat make you wash so hard your sweat pop out,
And he come to pass, sho'!

That's how the niggers say old Bab Russ used to make the hoodoo
"hands" he made for the young bucks and wenches, but I don't know,
'cause I was too trusting to look inside de one he make for me, and
anyways I lose it, and it no good nohow!

Old Bab Russ live about two mile from me, and I went to him one night
at midnight and ask him to make me de hand. I was a young strapper
about sixteen years old, and thinking about wenches pretty hard and
wanting something to help me out wid the one I liked best.

Old Bab Russ charge me four bits for dat hand, and I had to give four
bits more for a pint of whiskey to wet it wid, and it wasn't no good
nohow!

Course dat was five-six years after de War. I wasn't yet quite eleven
when de War close. Most all the niggers was farming on de shares and
whole lots of them was still working for their old Master yet. Old
Bab come in there from deep South Carolina two-three years befo', and
live all by hisself. De gal I was worrying about had come wid her old
pappy and mammy to pick cotton on de place, and dey was staying in one
of de cabins in the "settlement", but dey didn't live there all de
time.

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