Slave Narratives, Oklahoma

V >> Various >> Slave Narratives, Oklahoma

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

I don't know whether I believed in conjure much or not in dem days,
but anyways I tried it that once and it stirred up sech a rumpus
everybody called me "Hand" after that until after I was married and
had a pack of children.

Old Bab Russ was coal black, and he could talk African or some other
unknown tongue, and all the young bucks and wenches was mortal 'fraid
of him!

Well sir, I took dat hand he made for me and set out to try it on dat
gal. She never had give me a friendly look even, and when I would
speak to her polite she just hang her head and say nothing!

We was all picking cotton, and I come along up behind her and decided
to use my "Hand." I had bought me a pint of whiskey to wet the hand
wid, but I was scared to take out of my pocket and let the other
niggers see it, so I jest set down in de cotton row and taken a big
mouthful. I figgered to hold it in my mouth until I catched up wid
that gal and then blow it on the hand jest before I tech her on the
arm and speak to her.

Well, I take me a big mouthful, but it was so hot and scaldy it jest
slip right on down my throat! Then I had to take another, and when I
was gitting up I kind of stumbled and it slip down, too!

Then I see all the others get way on ahead, and I took another big
mouthful--the last in the bottle--and drap the bottle under a big
stalk and start picking fast and holding the whiskey in my mouth this
time. I missed about half the cotton I guess, but at last I catch up
with de rest and git close up behind dat purty gal. Then I started to
speak to her, but forgot I had de whiskey in mouth and I lost most of
it down my neck and all over my chin, and then I strangled a little on
the rest, so as when I went to squirt it on de "hand" I didn't have
nothing left to squirt but a little spit.

That make me a little nervous right then, but anyways I step up behind
dat gal and lay my hand on her arm and speak polite and start to say
something, but I finish up what I start to say laying on my neck with
my nose shoved up under a cotton stalk about four rows away!

De way that gal lam me across the head was a caution! We was in new
ground, and she jest pick up a piece of old root and whopped me right
in de neck with it!

That raise sech a laugh on me that I never say nothing to her for
three-four days, but after while I gets myself wound up to go see her
at her home. I didn't know how she going to act, but I jest took my
foot in my hand and went on over.

Her old pappy and mammy was asleep in the back of the room on a
pallet, and we set in front of the fireplace on our hunches and jest
looked at the fire and punched it up a little. It wasn't cold, but de
malary fog was thick all through de bottoms.

After while I could smell the whiskey soaked up in dat "hand" I had in
my pocket, and I was scared she could smell it too. So I jest reached
in my pocket and teched it for luck, then I reached over and teched
her arm. She jerked it back so quick she knocked over the churn and
spilled buttermilk all over de floor! Dat make de old folks mad, and
dey grumble and holler and told de gal, "Send dat black rapscallion on
out of here!" But I didn't go.

I kept on moving over closer and she kept on backing away, but after
while I reach over and put my hand on her knee. All I was going to do
was say something but I shore forgot what it was the next minnit,
'cause she jest whinnied lak a scared hoss and give me a big push. I
was settin straddledy-legged on the floor, and that push sent me on my
head in the hot ashes in the fur corner of the chimney.

Then the old man jump up and make for me and I make for the door! It
was dark, all 'cepting the light from the chimney, and I fumble all up
and down the door jamb before I find de latch pin. The old man shorely
git me if he hadn't stumble over the eating table and whop his hand
right down in de dish of fresh made butter. That make him so mad he
jest stand and holler and cuss.

I git de pin loose and jerk de door open so quick and hard I knock de
powder gourd down what was hanging over it, and my feet git caught in
the string. The stopper gits knocked out, and when I untangle it from
my feet and throw it back in de house it fall in the fireplace.

I was running all de time, but I hear dat gourd go "Blammity Blam!"
and then all de yelling, but I didn't go back to see how dey git the
hot coals all put out what was scattered all over de cabin!

I done drap dat "hand" and I never did see it again. Never did see the
gal but two-three times after that, and we never mention about dat
night. Her old pappy was too old to work, so I never did see him
neither, but she must of told about it because all the young bucks
called me "Hand" after that for a long time.

Old Bab kept on trying to work his conjure with the old niggers, but
the young ones didn't pay him much mind cause they was hearing about
the Gospel and de Lord Jesus Christ. We was all free then, and we
could go and come without a pass, and they was always some kind of
church meeting going on close enough to go to. Our niggers never did
hear about de Lord Jesus until after we was free, but lots of niggers
on de other plantations had masters that told them all about him, and
some of dem niggers was pretty good at preaching. Then de good church
people in de North was sending white preachers amongst us all the time
too. Most of de young niggers was Christians by that time.

One day old Bab was hoeing in a field and got in a squabble about
something with a young gal name Polly, same name as his wife. After
while he git so mad he reach up with his fingers and wet them on his
tongue and point straight up and say, "Now you got a trick on you!
Dere's a heavy trick on you now! Iffen you don't change your mind you
going pass on before de sun go down!"

All de young niggers looked like they want to giggle but afraid to,
and the old ones start begging old Bab to take the trick off, but that
Polly git her dander up and take in after him with a hoe!

She knocked him down, and he jest laid there kicking his feet in the
air and trying to keep her from hitting him in the head!

Well, that kind of broke up Bab's charm, so he set out to be a
preacher. The Northern whites was paying some of the Negro preachers,
so he tried to be one too. He didn't know nothing about de Bible but
to shout loud, so the preacher board at Red Mound never would give him
a paper to preach. Then he had to go back to tricking and trancing
again.

One day he come in at dinner and told his wife to git him something to
eat. She told him they aint nothing but some buttermilk, and he says
give me some of that. He hollered around till she fix him a big ash
cake and he ate that and she made him another and he ate that. Then he
drunk the rest of de gallon of buttermilk and went out and laid down
on a tobacco scaffold in de yard and nearly died.

After while he jest stiffened out and looked like he was dead, and
nobody couldn't wake him up. 'Bout forty niggers gathered round and
tried but it done no good. Old mammy Polly got scared and sent after
the white judge, old Squire Wilson, and he tried, and then the white
preacher Reverend Dennison tried and old man Gorman tried. He was a
infidel, but that didn't do no good.

By that time it was getting dark, and every nigger in a square mile
was there, looking on and acting scared. Me and my partner who was a
little bit cripple but mighty smart come up to see what all the rumpus
was about, and we was jest the age to do anything.

He whispered to me to let him start it off and then me finish it while
he got a head running start. I ast him what he talking about.

Then he fooled round the house and got a little ball of cotton and
soaked it in kerosene from a lamp. It was a brass lamp with a hole and
a stopper in the side of the bowl. Wonder he didn't burn his fool head
off! Then he sidle up close and stuck dat cotton 'tween old Bab's
toes. Old Bab had the biggest feet I ever see, too.

'Bout that time I lit a corn shuck in de lamp and run out in de yard
and stuck it to de cotton and jest kept right on running!

My partner had a big start but I catch up wid him and we lay down in
de bresh and listened to everybody hollering and old Bab hollering
louder than anybody. Old Bab moved away after that.

All that foolishness happen after the War, but before de War while I
was a little boy they wasn't much foolishness went on I warrant you.

I was born on de 15th of August in 1856, and belonged to Mister
Addison Pyles. He lived in town, in Jackson, Tennessee, and was a old
man when de War broke. He had a nephew named Irvin T. Pyles he raised
from a baby, and Mister Irvin kept a store at de corner of de roads at
our plantation. The plantation covered about 300 or 400 acres I
reckon, and they had about 25 slaves counting de children.

The plantation was about 9 miles north of Red Mound, close to
Lexington, Tennessee, and about a mile and a half from Parker's
Crossroads where they had a big battle in de War.

They wasn't no white overseer on the place, except Mister Irvin, and
he stayed in de store or in town and didn't bother about the farm
work. We had a Negro overlooker who was my stepdaddy. His name was
Jordan, and he run away wid de Yankees about de middle of de War and
was in a Negro Yankee regiment. After he left we jest worked on as
usual because we was afraid not to. Several of de men got away like
that but he was de only one that got in de army.

They was a big house in de middle of de place and a settlement of
Negro cabins behind and around it. We called it de settlement, but on
other plantations where white folks lived there too they called it de
quarters. We always kept this big house clean and ready, and sometimes
de white folks come out from town and stay a few days and hunt and
fish and look over de crops.

We all worked at farm work. Cotton and corn and tobacco mostly. We all
laid off Sunday after noontime, but we didn't have no church nor
preaching and we didn't hear anything 'bout Jesus much until after de
emancipation.

I reckon old Master wasn't very religious, 'cause he never tell us
'bout the Holy Word. He jest said to behave ourselves and tell him
when we wanted to marry, and not have but one wife.

We had little garden patches and cotton patches we could work on
Sunday and what de stuff brung we could sell and keep the money. Old
Master let us have what we made that way on Sunday. We could buy
ribbons and hand soap and coal oil and such at de store. Master Irvin
was always honest 'bout continuing de money, too.

We didn't have no carders and spinners nor no weavers on de
plantation. They cost too much money to buy just for 25 niggers, and
they cost a lot more than field niggers. So we got our clothes sent
out to us from in town, and sometimes we was give cloth from de store
to make our clothes out of.

We got de shorts and seconds from de mill when we had wheat ground,
and so we had good wheat bread as well as corn pone, and de big
smokehouse was on de place and we had all de meat we wanted to eat.
Old Master sent out after de meat he wanted every day or so and we
kept him in garden sass that way too.

We was right between de forks of Big Beaver and Little Beaver and we
could go fishing without getting far off de place. We couldn't go far
away without a pass, though, and they wasn't nobody on the place to
write us a pass, so we couldn't go to meeting and dances and sech.

But de niggers on de other plantations could get passes to come to our
place, and so we had parties sometimes there at our place. We always
had them on Sundays, 'cause in the evening we would be too tired to
work if we set up, and the other masters wouldn't give passes to their
niggers to come over in de evening.

We had a white doctor lived at de next plantation, and old Master had
a contract with old Dr. Brown to look after us. He had a beard as long
as your arm. He come for all kinds of misery except bornings. Then we
had a mid-wife who was a white woman lived down below us. They was
poor people renting or living on war land. Nearly all de white folks
in that country been there a long time and their old people got de
land from de government for fighting in the Revolutionary War. Most
all was from North Carolina--way back. I think old Master's pappy was
from dere in de first place.

Old Master had two sons named Newton and Willis. Newton was in de War
and was killed, and Willis went to war later and was sick a long time
and come home early. Old Master was too old to go.

There was two daughters, Mary, de oldest, married a Holmes, and Miss
Laura never did marry I don't think.

My mammy's name was Jane, and she was born on de 10th day of May in
1836. I know de dates 'cause old Master kept his book on all his
niggers de same as on his own family. Mammy was the nurse of all de
children but I think old Master sent her to de plantation about the
time I was born. I don't think I had any pappy. I think I was jest one
of them things that happened sometimes in slavery days, but I know old
Master didn't have nothing to do with it--I'm too black.

Mammy married a man named Jordan when I was a little baby. He was the
overlooker and went off to de Yankees, when dey come for foraging
through dat country de first time.

He served in de Negro regiment in de battle at Fort Piller and a lot
of Sesesh was killed in dat battle, so when de War was over and Jordan
come back home he was a changed nigger and all de whites and a lot of
de niggers hated him. All 'cepting old Master, and he never said a
word out of de way to him. Jest told him to come on and work on de
place as long as he wanted to.

But Jordan had a hard time, and he brung it on his self I reckon.

'Bout de first thing, he went down to Wildersville Schoolhouse, about
a mile from Wildersville, to a nigger and carpet bagger convention and
took me and mammy along. That was de first picnic and de first brass
band I ever see. De band men was all white men and they still had on
their blue soldier clothes.

Lots of de niggers there had been in de Union army too, and they had
on parts of their army clothes. They took them out from under their
coats and their wagon seats an put them on for de picnic.

There was a saloon over in Wildersville, and a lot of them went over
there but they was scared to go in, most of them. But a colored
delegate named Taylor and my pappy went in and ordered a drink. The
bartender didn't pay them no mind.

Then a white man named Billy Britt walked up and throwed a glass of
whiskey in Jordan's face and cussed him for being in de Yankee army.
Then a white man from the North named Pearson took up the fight and
him and Jordan jumped on Billy Britt, but de crowd stopped them and
told pappy to git on back to whar he come from.

He got elected a delegate at de convention and went on down to
Nashville and helped nominate Brownlow for governor. Then he couldn't
come back home for a while, but finally he did.

Old Master was uneasy about de way things was going on, and he come
out to de farm and stayed in de big house a while.

One day in broad daylight he was on de gallery and down de road come
'bout 20 bushwhackers in Sesesh clothes on horses and rid up to de
gate. Old Master knowed all of them, and Captain Clay Taylor, who had
been de master of de nigger delegate, was at the head of them.

They had Jordan Pyles tied with a rope and walked along on de ground
betwixt two horses.

"Whar you taking my nigger?", Old Master say. He run down off de
gallery and out in de road.

"He ain't your nigger no more--you know that", old Captain Taylor
holler back.

"He jest as much my nigger as that Taylor nigger was your nigger, and
you ain't laid hands on him! Now you jest have pity on my nigger!"

"Your nigger Jordan been in de Yankee army, and he was in de battle at
Fort Piller and help kill our white folks, and you know it!" Old
Captain Taylor say, and argue on like that, but old Master jest take
hold his bridle and shake his head.

"No, Clay", he say, "that boy maybe didn't kill Confederates, but you
and him both know my two boys killed plenty Yankees, and you forgot I
lost one of my boys in de War. Ain't that enough to pay for letting my
nigger alone?"

And old Captain Taylor give the word to turn Jordan loose, and they
rid on down de road.

That's one reason my stepdaddy never did leave old Master's place, and
I stayed on dere till I was grown and had children.

The Yankees come through past our place three-four times, and one time
they had a big battle jest a mile and a half away at Parker's
Crossroads.

I was in de field hoeing, and I remember I hadn't watered the cows we
had hid way down in de woods, so I started down to water them when I
first heard de shooting.

We had de stock hid down in de woods and all de corn and stuff hid
too, 'cause the Yankees and the Sesesh had been riding through quite a
lot, and either one take anything they needed iffen they found it.

First I hear something way off say "Br-r-rump!" Then again, and again.
Then something sound like popcorn beginning to pop real slow. Then it
git faster and I start for de settlement and de big house.

All Master's folks was staying at de big house then, and couldn't git
back to town 'count of de soldiers, so they all put on they good
clothes, with de hoop skirts and little sunshades and the lace
pantaloons and got in the buggy to go see de battle!

They rid off and it wasn't long till all the niggers was following
behind. We all got to a hill 'bout a half a mile from the crossroads
and stopped when we couldn't see nothing but thick smoke all over de
whole place.

We could see men on horses come in and out of de smoke, going this way
and that way, and then some Yankees on horses broke through de woods
right close to us and scattered off down through de field. One of de
white officers rid up close and yelled at us and took off his hat, but
I couldn't hear nothing he said.

Then he rid on and catch up with his men. They had stopped and was
turning off to one side. He looked back and waved his hat again for us
to git away from that, and jest then he clapped his hand to his belly
and fell off his hoss.

Our white folks turned their buggy round and made it for home and no
mistake! The niggers wasn't fur behind neither!

They fit on back toward our plantation, and some of the fighting was
inside it at one corner. For three-four days after that they was
burying soldiers 'round there, and some of de graves was on our old
place.

Long time afterwards people come and moved all them to other
graveyards at Shiloh and Corinth and other places. They was about a
hundred killed all around there.

After de War I married Molly Timberlake and we lived on there 'til
1902, when we come to Indian Territory at Haskell. They wasn't no
Haskell there then, and I helped to build dat town, doing carpenter
work and the like.

We had two boys, Bill and Jim Dick, and eight daughters, Effie, Ida,
Etta, Eva, Jessie, Tommie, Bennie and Timmie. Her real name is
Timberlake after her mammy. They all went to school and graduated in
the high schools.

My wife has been dead about ten years.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
10-13-37
[Date stamp: NOV 5 1937]

CHANEY RICHARDSON
Age 90 years
Fort Gibson, Okla.

I was born in the old Caney settlement southeast of Tahlequah on the
banks of Caney Creek. Off to the north we could see the big old ridge
of Sugar Mountain when the sun shine on him first thing in the morning
when we all getting up.

I didn't know nothing else but some kind of war until I was a grown
woman, because when I first can remember my old Master, Charley
Rogers, was always on the lookout for somebody or other he was lined
up against in the big feud.

My master and all the rest of the folks was Cherokees, and they'd been
killing each other off in the feud ever since long before I was
borned, and jest because old Master have a big farm and three-four
families of Negroes them other Cherokees keep on pestering his stuff
all the time. Us children was always afeared to go any place less'n
some of the grown folks was along.

We didn't know what we was a-feared of, but we heard the Master and
Mistress keep talking 'bout "another Party killing" and we stuck close
to the place.

Old Mistress' name was Nancy Rogers, but I was a orphan after I was a
big girl and I called her "Aunt" and "Mamma" like I did when I was
little. You see my own mammy was the house woman and I was raised in
the house, and I heard the little children call old mistress "mamma"
and so I did too. She never did make me stop.

My pappy and mammy and us children lived in a one-room log cabin close
to the creek bank and jest a little piece from old Master's house.

My pappy's name was Joe Tucker and my mammy's name was Ruth Tucker.
They belonged to a man named Tucker before I was born and he sold them
to Master Charley Rogers and he just let them go on by the same name
if they wanted to, because last name didn't mean nothing to a slave
anyways. The folks jest called my pappy "Charley Rogers' boy Joe."

I already had two sisters, Mary and Mandy, when I was born, and purty
soon I had a baby brother, Louis. Mammy worked at the Big House and
took me along every day. When I was a little bigger I would help hold
the hank when she done the spinning and old Mistress done a lot of the
weaving and some knitting. She jest set by the window and knit most
all of the time.

When we weave the cloth we had a big loom out on the gallery, and Miss
Nancy tell us how to do it.

Mammy eat at our own cabin, and we had lots of game meat and fish the
boys get in the Caney Creek. Mammy bring down deer meat and wild
turkey sometimes, that the Indian boys git on Sugar Mountain.

Then we had corn bread, dried bean bread and green stuff out'n
Master's patch. Mammy make the bean bread when we git short of corn
meal and nobody going to the mill right away. She take and bile the
beans and mash them up in some meal and that make it go a long ways.

The slaves didn't have no garden 'cause they work the old Master's
garden and make enough for everybody to have some anyway.

When I was about 10 years old that feud got so bad the Indians was
always talking about getting their horses and cattle killed and their
slaves harmed. I was too little to know how bad it was until one
morning my own mammy went off somewhere down the road to git some
stuff to dye cloth and she didn't come back.

Lots of the young Indian bucks on both sides of the feud would ride
around the woods at night, and old Master got powerful oneasy about my
mammy and had all the neighbors and slaves out looking for her, but
nobody find her.

It was about a week later that two Indian men rid up and ast old
master wasn't his gal Ruth gone. He says yes, and they take one of the
slaves along with a wagon to show where they seen her.

They find her in some bushes where she'd been getting bark to set the
dyes, and she been dead all the time. Somebody done hit her in the
head with a club and shot her through and through with a bullet too.
She was so swole up they couldn't lift her up and jest had to make a
deep hole right along side of her and roll her in it she was so bad
mortified.

Old Master nearly go crazy he was so mad, and the young Cherokee men
ride the woods every night for about a month, but they never catch on
to who done it.

I think old Master sell the children or give them out to somebody
then, because I never see my sisters and brother for a long time after
the Civil War, and for me, I have to go live with a new mistress that
was a Cherokee neighbor. Her name was Hannah Ross, and she raised me
until I was grown.

I was her home girl, and she and me done a lot of spinning and
weaving too. I helped the cook and carried water and milked. I carried
the water in a home-made pegging set on my head. Them peggings was
kind of buckets made out of staves set around a bottom and didn't have
no handle.

I can remember weaving with Miss Hannah Ross. She would weave a strip
of white and one of yellow and one of brown to make it pretty. She had
a reel that would pop every time it got to a half skein so she would
know to stop and fill it up again. We used copperas and some kind of
bark she bought at the store to dye with. It was cotton clothes winter
and summer for the slaves, too, I'll tell you.

When the Civil War come along we seen lots of white soldiers in them
brown butternut suits all over the place, and about all the Indian men
was in it too. Old master Charley Rogers' boy Charley went along too.
Then pretty soon--it seem like about a year--a lot of the Cherokee men
come back home and say they not going back to the War with that
General Cooper and some of them go off the Federal side because the
captain go to the Federal side too.

Somebody come along and tell me my own pappy have to go in the war and
I think they say he on the Copper side, and then after while Miss
Hannah tell me he git kilt over in Arkansas.

I was so grieved all the time I don't remember much what went on, but
I know pretty soon my Cherokee folks had all the stuff they had et up
by the soldiers and they was jest a few wagons and mules left.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24