Slave Narratives, Oklahoma

V >> Various >> Slave Narratives, Oklahoma

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Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]

PRINCE BEE
Age 85 yrs.
Red Bird, Okla.

I don't know how old I was when I found myself standing on the toppen
part of a high stump with a lot of white folks walking around looking
at the little scared boy that was me. Pretty soon the old master,
(that's my first master) Saul Nudville, he say to me that I'm now
belonging to Major Bee and for me to get down off the auction block.

I do that. Major Bee he comes over and right away I know I'm going to
like him. Then when I get to the Major's plantation and see his oldest
daughter Mary and all her brothers and sisters, and see how kind she
is to all them and to all the colored children, why, I just keeps
right on liking 'em more all the time.

They was about nine white children on the place and Mary had to watch
out for them 'cause the mother was dead.

That Mary gal seen to it that we children got the best food on the
place, the fattest possum and the hottest fish. When the possum was
all browned, and the sweet 'taters swimming in the good mellow gravy,
then she call us for to eat. Um-um-h! That was tasty eating!

And from the garden come the vegetables like okra and corn and onions
that Mary would mix all up in the soup pot with lean meats. That would
rest kinder easy on the stomach too, 'specially if they was a bit of
red squirrel meats in with the stew!

Major Bee say it wasn't good for me to learn reading and writing.
Reckoned it would ruin me. But they sent me to Sunday School.
Sometimes. Wasn't many of the slaves knew how to read the Bible
either, but they all got the religion anyhow. I believed in it then
and I still do.

That religion I got in them way back days is still with me. And it
ain't this pie crust religion such as the folks are getting these
days. The old time religion had some filling between the crusts,
wasn't so many empty words like they is today.

They was haunts in them way back days, too. How's I know? 'Cause I
stayed right with the haunts one whole night when I get caught in a
norther when the Major sends me to another plantation for to bring
back some cows he's bargained for. That was a cold night and a
frightful one.

The blizzard overtook me and it was dark on the way. I come to an old
gin house that everybody said was the hauntinest place in all the
county. But I went in account of the cold and then when the noises
started I was just too scared to move, so there I stood in the corner,
all the time 'til morning come.

There was nobody I could see, but I could hear peoples feet a-tromping
and stomping around the room and they go up and down the stairway like
they was running a race.

Sometimes the noises would be right by my side and I would feel like a
hot wind passing around me, and lights would flash all over the room.
Nobody could I see. When daylight come I went through that door
without looking back and headed for the plantation, forgetting all
about the cows that Major Bee sent me for to get.

When I tells them about the thing, Mary she won't let the old Major
scold, and she fixes me up with some warm foods and I is all right
again. But I stays me away from that gin place, even in the daylight,
account of the haunts.

When the War come along the Major got kinder mean with some of the
slaves, but not with me. I never did try to run off, but some of 'em
did. One of my brothers tried and got caught.

The old Master whipped him 'til the blood spurted all over his body,
the bull whip cutting in deeper all the time. He finish up the
whipping with a wet coarse towel and the end got my brother in the
eye. He was blinded in the one eye but the other eye is good enough he
can see they ain't no use trying to run away no more.

After the War they was more whippings. This time it was the night
riders--them Klan folks didn't fool with mean Negroes. The mean
Negroes was whipped and some of them shot when they do something the
Klan folks didn't like, and when they come a-riding up in the night,
all covered with white spreads, they was something bound to happen.

Them way back days is gone and I is mighty glad. The Negroes of today
needs another leader like Booker Washington. Get the young folks to
working, that's what they need, and get some filling in their pie
crust religion so's when they meet the Lord their soul won't be empty
like is their pocketbooks today!

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves

LEWIS BONNER
Age 87 yrs.
507 N. Durland
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

I was born 7 miles north of Palestine, Texas, on Matt Swanson's place
in 1850, but I kin not remember the date. My mistress was name Celia
Swanson. My mistress was so good to me till I jest loved her.

My family and all slaves on our place was treated good. Mighty few
floggings went on 'round and about. Master was the overseer over his
darkies and didn't use no other'n. I waited table and churned in the
Big House.

I ate at the table with my mistress and her family and nothing was
evah said. We ate bacon, greens, Irish potatoes and such as we git
now. Aunt Chaddy was the cook and nurse for all the chillun on the
place.

We used to hear slaves on de other places hollering from whippings,
but master never whipped his niggers 'less they lied. Sometimes slaves
from other places would run off and come to our place. Master would
take them back and tell the slave-holders how to treat them so dey
wouldn't run off again.

Mistress had a little stool for me in the big house, and if I got
sleepy, she put me on the foot of her bed and I stayed there til
morning, got up washed my face and hands and got ready to wait on the
table.

There was four or five hundred slaves on our place. One morning during
slavery, my father killed 18 white men and ran away. They said he was
lazy and whipped him, and he just killed all of 'em he could, which
was 18 of 'em. He stayed away 3 years without being found. He come
back and killed 7 before they could kill him. When he was on the place
he jest made bluing.

My mother worked in the field and weaved cloth. Shirts dat she made
lasted 12 months, even if wore and washed and ironed every day. Pants
could not be ripped with two men pulling on dem with all their might.
You talking 'bout clothes, them was some clothes then. Clothes made
now jest don't come up to them near abouts.

Doing of slavery, we had the best church, lots better than today. I am
a Baptist from head to foot, yes sir, yes sir. Jest couldn't be
nothing else. In the first place, I wouldn't even try.

I knows when the war started and ceaseted. I tell you it was some war.
When it was all over, the Yankees come thoo' singing, "You may die
poor but you won't die a slave."

When the War was over, master told us that we could go out and take
care of the crops already planted and plant the ones that need
planting 'cause we knowed all 'bout the place and we would go halvers.
We stayed on 3 years after slavery. We got a little money, but we got
room and board and didn't have to work too hard. It was enough
difference to tell you was no slaves any more.

After slavery and when I was old enough I got married. I married a gal
that was a daughter of her master. He wanted to own her, but she sho'
didn't return it. He kept up with her till he died and sent her money
jest all the time. Before he died, he put her name in his will and
told his oldest son to be sure and keep up with her. The son was sure
true to his promise, for till she died, she was forever hearing from
him or he would visit us, even after we moved to Oklahoma from Texas.

Our chillun and grandchillun will git her part since she is gone. She
was sure a good wife and for no reason did I take the second look at
no woman. That was love, which don't live no more in our hearts.

I make a few pennies selling fish worms and doing a little yard work
and raising vegetables. Not much money in circulation. When I gets my
old age pension, it will make things a little mite better. I guess the
time will be soon.

Tain't nothing but bad treatment that makes people die young and I
ain't had none.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
[Date stamp: AUG 19 1937]

FRANCIS BRIDGES
Age 73 yrs.
Oklahoma City, Okla.

I was born in Red River County, Texas in 1864, and that makes me 73
years old. I had myself 75, and I went to my white folks and they
counted it up and told me I was 73, but I always felt like I was older
than that.

My husband's name is Henry Bridges. We was raised up children together
and married. I had five sisters. My brother died here in Oklahoma
about two years ago. He was a Fisher. Mary Russell, my sister, she
lives in Parish, Texas; Willie Ann Poke, she lives in Greenville,
Texas; Winnie Jackson, lives in Adonia, Texas, and Mattie White, my
other sister, lives in Long Oak, Texas, White Hunt County.

Our Master was named Master Travis Wright, and we all ate nearly the
same thing. Such things as barbecued rabbits, coon, possums baked with
sweet potatoes and all such as that. I used to hang round the kitchen.
The cook, Mama Winnie Long, used to feed all us little niggers on the
flo', jest like little pigs, in tin cups and wooden spoons. We ate
fish too, and I like to go fishing right this very day.

We lived right in old Master Wright's yard. His house sat way up on a
high hill. It was jest a little old log hut we lived in a little old
shack around the yard. They was a lot of little shacks in the yard, I
can't tell jest how many, but it was quite a number of 'em. We slept
in old-fashion beds that we called "corded beds", 'cause they had
ropes crossed to hold the mattresses for slats. Some of 'em had beds
nailed to the wall.

Master Travis Wright had one son named Sam Wright, and after old
Master Travis Wright died, young Master Sam Wright come to be my
mother's master. He jest died a few years ago.

My mother say dey had a nigger driver and he'd whip 'em all but his
daughter. I never seen no slaves whipped, but my mother say dey had to
whip her Uncle Charley Mills once for telling a story. She say he
bored a hole in de wall of de store 'til he bored de hole in old
Master's whiskey barrel, and he caught two jugs of whiskey and buried
it in de banks of de river. When old Master found out de whiskey was
gone, he tried to make Uncle Charley 'fess up, and Uncle Charley
wouldn't so he brung him in and hung him and barely let his toes
touch. After Uncle Charley thought he was going to kill him, he told
where de whiskey was.

We didn't go to church before freedom, land no! 'cause the closest
church was so far--it was 30 miles off. But I'm a member of the
Baptist Church and I've been a member for some 40-odd years. I was
past 40 when I heerd of a Methodist Church. My favorite song is
"Companion." I didn't get to go to school 'til after slavery.

I 'member more after de War. I 'member my mother said dey had
patrollers, and if de slaves would get passes from de Master to go to
de dances and didn't git back before ten o'clock dey'd beat 'em half
to death.

I used to hear 'em talking 'bout Ku Klux Klan coming to the well to
get water. They'd draw up a bucket of water and pour the water in they
false stomachs. They false stomachs was tied on 'em with a big leather
buckle. They'd jest pour de water in there to scare 'em and say, "This
is the first drink of water I've had since I left Hell." They'd say
all sech things to scare the cullud folks.

I heerd my mother say they sold slaves on what they called an auction
block. Jest like if a slave had any portly fine looking children
they'd sell them chillun jest like selling cattle. I didn't see this,
jest heerd it.

After freedom, when I was old enough then to work in the field, we
lived on Mr. Martin's plantation. We worked awful hard in the fields.
Lawd yes'm! I've heard 'bout shucking up de corn, but give me dem
cotton pickings. Fry'd pick out all de crop of cotton in one day. The
women would cook and de men'd pick the cotton, I mean on dem big
cotton pickings. Some would work for they meals. Then after dey'd
gather all de crops, dey'd give big dances, drink whiskey, and jest
cut up sumpin terrible. We didn't know anything 'bout holidays.

I've heard my husband talk 'bout "Raw head an' bloody bones." Said
whenever dey mothers wanted to scare 'em to make 'em be good dey'd
tell 'em dat a man was outside de door and asked her if she'd hold his
head while he fixed his back bone. I don't believe in voodooing, and I
don't believe in hants. I used to believe in both of 'em when I was
young.

I married Jake Bridges. We had a ordinary wedding. The preacher
married us and we had a license. We have two sons grown living here.
My husband told me that in slavery if your Master told you to live
with your brother, you had to live with him. My father's mother and
dad was first cousins.

I can 'member my husband telling me he was hauling lumber from
Jefferson where the saw mill was and it was cold that night, and when
they got halfway back it snowed, and he stopped with an old cullud
family, and he said way in the night, a knock come at de door--woke
'em up, and it was an old cullud man, and he said dis old man commence
inquiring, trying to find out who dey people was and dey told him best
dey could remember, and bless de Lawd, 'fore dey finished talking de
found out dis old cullud man and de other cullud woman an' man dat was
married was all brothers and sisters, and he told his brother it was
a shame he had married his sister and dey had nine chillun. My husband
sho' told me dis.

I've heerd 'em say dey old master raised chillun by those cullud
women. Why, there was one white man in Texas had a cullud woman, but
didn't have no chillun by her, and he had this cullud woman and her
old mistress there on the same place. So, when old Mistress died he
wouldn't let this cullud woman leave, and he gave her a swell home
right there on the place, and she is still there I guess. They say she
say sometime, she didn't want no Negro man smutting her sheets up.

I think Abraham Lincoln was a good man, and I have read a whole lots
'bout him, but I don't know much 'bout Jeff Davis. I think Booker T.
Washington is a fine man, but I aint heerd so much about him.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
[Date stamp: AUG 16 1937]

JOHN BROWN
Age (about) 87 yrs.
West Tulsa, Okla.

Most of the folks have themselves a regular birthday but this old
colored man just pick out any of the days during the year--one day
just about as good as another.

I been around a long time but I don't know when I got here. That's the
truth. Nearest I figures it the year was 1850--the month don't make no
difference nohow.

But I know the borning was down in Taloga County, Alabama, near the
county seat town. Miss Abby was with my Mammy that day. She was the
wife of Master John Brown. She was with all the slave women every time
a baby was born, or when a plague of misery hit the folks she knew
what to do and what kind of medicine to chase off the aches and pains.
God bless her! She sure loved us Negroes.

Most of the time there was more'n three hundred slaves on the
plantation. The oldest ones come right from Africa. My Grandmother was
one of them. A savage in Africa--a slave in America. Mammy told it to
me. Over there all the natives dressed naked and lived on fruits and
nuts. Never see many white mens.

One day a big ship stopped off the shore and the natives hid in the
brush along the beach. Grandmother was there. The ship men sent a
little boat to the shore and scattered bright things and trinkets on
the beach. The natives were curious. Grandmother said everybody made a
rush for them things soon as the boat left. The trinkets was fewer
than the peoples. Next day the white folks scatter some more. There
was another scramble. The natives was feeling less scared, and the
next day some of them walked up the gangplank to get things off the
plank and off the deck.

The deck was covered with things like they'd found on the beach.
Two-three hundred natives on the ship when they feel it move. They
rush to the side but the plank was gone. Just dropped in the water
when the ship moved away.

Folks on the beach started to crying and shouting. The ones on the
boat was wild with fear. Grandmother was one of them who got fooled,
and she say the last thing seen of that place was the natives running
up and down the beach waving their arms and shouting like they was
mad. The boat men come up from below where they had been hiding and
drive the slaves down in the bottom and keep them quiet with the whips
and clubs.

The slaves was landed at Charleston. The town folks was mighty mad
'cause the blacks was driven through the streets without any clothes,
and drove off the boat men after the slaves was sold on the market.
Most of that load was sold to the Brown plantation in Alabama.
Grandmother was one of the bunch.

The Browns taught them to work. Made clothes for them. For a long time
the natives didn't like the clothes and try to shake them off. There
was three Brown boys--John, Charley and Henry. Nephews of old Lady
Hyatt who was the real owner of the plantation, but the boys run the
place. The old lady she lived in the town. Come out in the spring and
fall to see how is the plantation doing.

She was a fine woman. The Brown boys and their wives was just as good.
Wouldn't let nobody mistreat the slaves. Whippings was few and nobody
get the whip 'less he need it bad. They teach the young ones how to
read and write; say it was good for the Negroes to know about such
things.

Sunday was a great day around the plantation. The fields was
forgotten, the light chores was hurried through and everybody got
ready for the church meeting.

It was out of the doors, in the yard fronting the big log where the
Browns all lived. Master John's wife would start the meeting with a
prayer and then would come the singing. The old timey songs.

The white folks on the next plantation would lick their slaves for
trying to do like we did. No praying there, and no singing.

The Master gave out the week's supply on Saturday. Plenty of hams,
lean bacon, flour, corn meal, coffee and more'n enough for the week.
Nobody go hungry on that place! During the growing season all the
slaves have a garden spot all their own. Three thousand acres on that
place--plenty of room for gardens and field crops.

Even during the war foods was plentiful. One time the Yankee soldiers
visit the place. The white folks gone and I talks with them. Asks me
lots of questions--got any meats--got any potatoes--got any this--some
of that--but I just shake my head and they don't look around.

The old cook fixes them up though. She fry all the eggs on the place,
skillet the ham and pan the biscuits! Them soldiers fill up and leave
the house friendly as anybody I ever see!

The Browns wasn't bothered with the Ku Klux Klan either. The Negroes
minded their own business just like before they was free.

I stayed on the plantation 'til the last Brown die. Then I come to
Oklahoma and works on the railroad 'til I was too old to hustle the
grips and packages. Now I just sits thinking how much better off would
I be on the old plantation.

Homesick! Just homesick for that Alabama farm like it was in them good
old times!

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves

SALLIE CARDER
Age 83 yrs.
Burwin, Okla.

I was born in Jackson, Tennessee, and I'm going on 83 years. My mother
was Harriett Neel and father Jeff Bills, both of them named after
their masters. I has one brother, J. B. Bills, but all de rest of my
brothers and sisters is dead.

No sir, we never had no money while I was a slave. We jest didn't have
nothing a-tall! We ate greens, corn bread, and ash cake. De only time
I ever got a biscuit would be when a misdemeanor was did, and my
Mistress would give a buttered biscuit to de one who could tell her
who done it.

In hot weather and cold weather dere was no difference as to what we
wore. We wore dresses my mother wove for us and no shoes a-tall. I
never wore any shoes till I was grown and den dey was old brogans wid
only two holes to lace, one on each side. During my wedding I wore a
blue calico dress, a man's shirt tail as a head rag, and a pair of
brogan shoes.

My Master lived in a three-story frame house painted white. My
Mistress was very mean. Sometimes she would make de overseer whip
negroes for looking too hard at her when she was talking to dem. Dey
had four children, three girls and one boy.

I was a servant to my Master, and as he had de palsy I had to care for
him, feed him and push him around. I don't know how many slaves, but
he had a good deal of 'em.

About four o' clock mornings de overseer or negro carriage driver who
stayed at the Big House would ring de bell to git up and git to work.
De slaves would pick a heap of cotton and work till late on
moonshining nights.

Dere was a white post in front of my door with ropes to tie the slaves
to whip dem. Dey used a plain strap, another one with holes in it, and
one dey call de cat wid nine tails which was a number of straps plated
and de ends unplated. Dey would whip de slaves wid a wide strap wid
holes in it and de holes would make blisters. Den dey would take de
cat wid nine tails and burst de blisters and den rub de sores wid
turpentine and red pepper.

I never saw any slaves auctioned off but I seen dem pass our house
chained together on de way to be sold, including both men and women
wid babies all chained to each other. Dere was no churches for slaves,
but at nights dey would slip off and git in ditches and sing and pray,
and when dey would sometimes be caught at it dey would be whipped.
Some of de slaves would turn down big pots and put dere heads in dem
and pray. My Mistress would tell me to be a good obedient slave and I
would go to heaven. When slaves would attempt to run off dey would
catch dem and chain dem and fetch 'em back and whip dem before dey was
turned loose again.

De patrollers would go about in de quarters at nights to see if any of
de slaves was out or slipped off. As we sleep on de dirt floors on
pallets, de patrollers would walk all over and on us and if we even
grunt dey would whip us. De only trouble between de whites and blacks
on our plantation was when de overseer tied my mother to whip her and
my father untied her and de overseer shot and killed him.

Negroes never was allowed to git sick, and when dey would look
somewhat sick, de overseer would give dem some blue-mass pills and oil
of some sort and make dem continue to work.

During de War de Yankees would pass through and kill up de chickens,
and hogs, and cattle, and eat up all dey could find. De day of freedom
de overseer went into de field and told de slaves dat dey was free,
and de slaves replied, "free how?" and he told dem: "free to work and
live for demselves." And dey said dey didn't know what to do, and so
some of dem stayed on. I married Josh Forch. I am mother of four
children and 35 grand children.

I like Abraham Lincoln. I think he was a good man and president. I
didn't know much who Jeff Davis was. What I heard 'bout Booker T.
Washington, he was a good man.

Now dat slavery is over, I don't want to be in nary 'nother slavery,
and if ever nary 'nothern come up I wouldn't stay here.

Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves

BETTY FOREMAN CHESSIER
Age 94 years
Oklahoma City, Okla.

I was born July 11, 1843 in Raleigh, N. C. My mother was named Melinda
Manley, the slave of Governor Manley of North Carolina, and my father
was named Arnold Foreman, slave of Bob and John Foreman, two young
masters. They come over from Arkansas to visit my master and my pappy
and mammy met and got married, 'though my pappy only seen my mammy in
the summer when his masters come to visit our master and dey took him
right back. I had three sisters and two brothers and none of dem was
my whole brothers and sisters. I stayed in the Big House all the time,
but my sisters and brothers was gived to the master's sons and
daughters whey dey got married and dey was told to send back for some
more when dem died. I didn't never stay with my mammy doing of
slavery. I stayed in the Big House. I slept under the dining room
table with three other darkies. The flo' was well carpeted. Don't
remembah my grandmammy and grandpappy, but my master was they master.

I waited on the table, kept flies off'n my mistress and went for the
mail. Never made no money, but dey did give the slaves money at
Christmas time. I never had over two dresses. One was calico and one
gingham. I had such underclothes as dey wore then.

Master Manley and Mistress had six sons an' six darters. Dey raised
dem all till dey was grown too. Dey lived in a great big house 'cross
from the mansion, right in town before Master was 'lected Governor,
den dey all moved in dat mansion.

Plantation folks had barbecues and "lay crop feasts" and invited the
city darkies out. When I first come here I couldn't understand the
folks here, 'cause dey didn't quit work on Easter Monday. That is some
day in North Carolina even today. I doesn't remember any play songs,
'cause I was almost in prison. I couldn't play with any of the darkies
and I doesn't remember playing in my life when I was a little girl and
when I got grown I didn't want to. I wasn't hongry, I wasn't naked and
I got only five licks from the white folks in my life. Dey was for
being such a big forgitful girl. I saw 'em sell niggers once. The only
pusson I ever seen whipped at dat whipping post was a white man.

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