SLAVE NARRATIVES

450009 [1]

Interview of Mrs. Fannie Berry, Ex-slave
861 E. Bank Street—Petersburg, Virginia
By Susie Byrd, Petersburg, Virginia
Date—February 26, 1937

Nat Turner

Back before the sixties, I remember my Mistress, Miss Sara Ann, coming to the window and yelling, "The Black people are rising up! The Black people are rising up! They’re killing all the white folks, killing all the babies in the cradle!" It must have been Nat Turner's Rebellion; which was sometime before the start of the Civil War.

I was waiting tables in the dining room, and that day they finished eating early, so I was cleaning off the tables. You know I must have been a good-sized girl.

JOHN BROWN

Yes, I remember something about him too. I know my Master came home and said that on his way to the gallows, old John stopped and kissed a little Black child. "How come I don't remember? Don't tell me I don't because I do. I don't care if it's been a thousand years." I know what Master said and it is as fresh in my mind as it was that day. This is the song I heard my Master sing:

Innovation

My master told us that the Black people started the railroad, and that one day a Black man looking at a boiling coffee pot on a stove got the idea that he could make it move by putting wheels on it. This man, being a blacksmith, put his thoughts into action by making wheels and putting coffee on it, and by some means he made it run, and his idea was stolen from him and they built the steam engine.

CONNECTION

I was a slave that the poor white man couldn’t handle. You see Miss Sue? These old white men said, “If I can’t get my way honestly, I’ll do it by any means necessary.” One tried to overpower me, but he couldn’t. We wrestled and knocked over chairs, and when I got a good grip, I scratched his face all up; after that, he left Fannie alone. But, oh honey, some slaves would get beaten badly when they fought back, and sometimes if you defied the overseer, you could end up dead. We Black women had to endure a lot, I’ll tell you.

MARRIAGE

Elder Williams married me in Miss Delia Mann's (white) parlor on the crater road. The house still stands. It was full of Black people. Miss Sue Jones and Miss Molley Clark (white) waited on me. They took the lamps, and we walked up to the preacher. One person joined my hand, and one joined my husband's hand. After the wedding, the white folks threw me a reception; and, honey, talking about a table—it was stretched all the way across the dining room. We had everything to eat you could ask for. No, there weren’t any ordinary foods. We could sing in there and dance the old square dance as we pleased, ha! ha! ha! Lord! Lord! I can see those girls now on that floor; just skipping and trotting. And honey, there were no white folks sitting down and eating before you.[3]

WAR

Now, Miss Sue, let's chat. I just want to talk to you, dear, about those days of slavery because you seem interested in hearing all about them. All about the old rebels and those people who left with the Yankees and were set free, but, poor things, they had nowhere to go after they were freed. Honey, we were all helpless and had nothing.

I was free a long time before I realized it. My mistress still rented me out, until one day while talking to the woman she had hired me to, she—"God bless her soul"—told me, "Fannie, you are free, and I don’t have to pay your master for you anymore." She said I could stay with her. She didn’t give me any money, but let me stay and work for food and clothes since I had nowhere to go. Jesus, Jesus, God help us! Um, Um, Um! You kids don’t know. I didn’t say anything when she told me, but I decided to leave her and go back to the white folks who first owned me.

I planned to attend a big dance. Let me think, I think it was on a Thursday night. Somehow it got out, you know how girls can talk, and it reached old Bill Duffy's ears (that old dog!) and, baby, do you know, mind you, this wasn’t during slavery time, but the woman got so mad because I ran away from her that she got a whole bunch of people out looking for me. There was a boy who heard them talking and saying they were going to kill me if I was found. I will never forget this boy coming up to me while I was dancing with another man and said, "Nobody knows where you are, Miss Moore, they are looking for you, and they're going to kill you, so you come with me." Have mercy, have mercy my Lord, honey, you can just imagine my feelings for a minute. I couldn't move. You know the girls and boys all gathered around me and told me to go with Squareball, that he would show me the way to my old mistress’s house. Off we went, and we ran one straight mile up the road, then through the woods, then we had to go through a straw field. That field felt like three miles.[4] After that, we met another patch of woods. Miss Sue, baby my eyes, (ha! ha! ha!) were bucked and if there's such a thing as being so scared your hair stands on end, I know mine did. And that wasn’t all, that boy and I puffed and sweated like bulls. We were scared to stop because we might have been tracked.

At last, we got close to the house and I started throwing rocks on the porch. Child, I looked and heard that white woman when she hit the floor, bouncing out of that bed; she must've felt that I was coming back to her. She called all the men and had them throw a rope to me, and they pulled me up to the window, then I held my arms up and they yanked me inside. Honey, Squareball ran off to the woods. I never heard anything about him again. And do you know, I didn't leave that woman's house for another fifteen years?

Lord! Lord! Honey, Squareball and I used to sing this song.

Child, here's another one we used to sing. Remember the war was over when we would sing these songs. Listen now:

I was at Pamplin, and the Yankees and Rebels were fighting, waving the bloody flag. A Confederate soldier was on a post, and they were shooting like crazy. Guns were firing everywhere.

All of a sudden, they started playing Yankee Doodle Song. A soldier came by and asked me, "How far is it to the Rebels?" and, honestly, I was too scared to tell him. So, I said, "I don't know." He called me again. I was terrified. I remember getting behind the house and pointing in that direction. You see, if the Rebels found out that I told the soldier, they would have killed me.

These were the Union soldiers going after Lee's army, which had already gone to Appomattox.

The Colored regiment came up behind, and when they saw the Colored regiment, they raised the white flag. (You remember before this red or bloody flag was up). Now, do you know why they raised that white flag? Well, honey, that white flag was a sign that Lee had surrendered.[6] Glory! Glory! Yes, child, the Negroes are free, and when they realized they were free, they, oh baby, began to sing:

Sech rejoicing and shouting, you never heard in your life.

Yes, I can remember the explosion of the Crater. We had run away, but I know about the shelling of Petersburg. We left Petersburg as the shelling started and took boxcars to Pamplin to get out of the way. Those were scary times too, because you felt like you could be killed at any moment by stray bullets. Just before the shelling of Petersburg, they were selling Black people for almost nothing.

Junius Broadie, a white man, bought some slaves, but they didn't stay enslaved for long because the Yankees came and set them free.

450003 [7]

Interview with Mr. Charles Crawley, Former Slave
By—Susie Byrd—Petersburg, Virginia
Date—February 20, 1937

THE STORY OF CHARLES CRAWLEY, EX-SLAVE

God knows how old I am. All I know is I was born before the war.

Yes, I was a slave and belonged to a family of Allens in Lunenburg County. I came here to Petersburg the second week after Lee's surrender.

My master and mistress were good to me as well as to all of us slaves. They owned about fifty people of color. All the work I did was to play and drive cows, being just a boy who did small tasks like the other kids; doing this and that, little things the white folks would call me to do.

Marster Allen owned my mother and sister too. We emigrated here, came to this town of Petersburg after Lee's surrender, meaning around the end of the Civil War. My mother, sister, and I traveled down the road in a boxcar, which stopped just outside the outskirts; it didn't go through the city. Yes, I remember when the first railroads were built, the Norfolk and Western and the Atlantic Coast Line; they ran through Petersburg, and back then it was called the Southern.

Mis and Mars' Allen didn't want us to leave that part of the country to come to this place down the road, but we decided to make a home for ourselves. Well now, we worked here and there, with this man and that man; oh well, with different people until we bought ourselves a home and paid for it. Mother died right here in this house; twelve years ago, this coming March 11th. I[8] am still living in this same house that she and we all labored for by the sweat of our brow, and with these hands, Lord! Lord! Child, those days were something else. Let me finish, baby, telling you about this house. The ground was bought from a lady (colored) named Sis Jackey, and she was sometimes called back in those days the Mother of Harrison Street Baptist Church. I reckon this church is the oldest one in Petersburg.

O, yes, honey, I can remember when the Yankees came into this town; they broke into stores and told all the Black people to go in and get anything they wanted.

When slaves ran away, they were brought back to their masters and mistresses; when they couldn't catch them, they didn't bother and just let them go. Sometimes the slaves would go and settle in other places; some of them lived in the woods by taking things like hogs, corn, and vegetables from other people's farms. Well, if these slaves were caught, they were sold by their new owners to go down South. I've heard that the owners down South were so cruel to slaves that they would make them work in the cotton fields until they collapsed dead with hoes in their hands, and then they would beat them. I'm glad to say we had good owners.

There was an auction block I saw right here in Petersburg at the corner of Sycamore Street and Bank Street. Slaves were sold to the highest bidder. Some refused to be sold. By that, I mean, they "cried." Lord! Lord! I’ve seen those young ones fight and kick like crazy; it was pitiful to watch. Then they'd handcuff and beat them mercilessly. I don't like to talk about back then. It brings up a sad feeling in me. If slaves rebelled, I’ve seen them whipped with a strap called "cat o' nine tails." Honey, this strap was about as wide as your hand, from thumb to little finger, and it was cut into strips. You've seen those whips they use on horses? Well, they were used on people too.

You said something about how we served God. Well, let me tell you how we used to do it. We would worship at different houses. You see, you’d get a pass to go to these places. You had to show your pass. If the pattyrollers caught you, they would whip you. That’s how it was back then. Pattyrollers were a group of white men who would go through the countryside capturing slaves and beating them up if they didn’t have a pass. Master Allen wouldn’t allow anyone to whip or beat his slaves, and he would handle anyone who tried; so, Master’s slaves would meet and worship from house to house, and honey, we talked to my God as much as we wanted.

You know we used to call Master Allen, Colonel Allen. His name was Robert. He was a local general and a lawyer, too. Whenever he went to court, any slave he said to free was freed and set loose. The white folks as well as the slaves obeyed Master Allen.

Did you know that poor white people, like slaves, had to get a permit? I mean, a permit like slaves had to sell anything, go places, or do anything. Just like us people of color, they had to go to some important white man like Colonel Allen. If the master wanted to, he would give them a permit or pass; and if he didn't feel like it, he wouldn’t. It was just based on how he felt about it. That’s what made everyone fear him. Old Master was tougher on those poor white folks than he was on us Black people.

I only know two families of white people who were slaves in my area; one was named Chatman, and the other was Nellovies. These two families worked on Allen's farm just like we did. Farther away, on a piece of land called Morgan's lot, they lived as slaves just like us Black folks. Yes, the poor white man had some dark and tough times, just like us poor Black people; I mean they were[10] whipped and treated, some of them, just as pitifully and mercilessly. Oh! Baby, I hope you young folks will never know what slavery is, and will never suffer as your ancestors did. Oh God! I'm living to share this story with you, honey. Yes, Jesus, you’ve spared me.

For clothing, we were allowed two suits a year—one for spring and one for winter, and that was all you got. The underwear was made at home. You also received two pairs of shoes and homemade hats and caps. The white people or your slave owners would teach those who could pick it up quickly, and they would teach the other slaves, and that’s how they kept all the slaves dressed. Our summer hats were made from woven straw, and the underwear was made from sacks and bags.

We had plenty of food like—cornbread, buttermilk, sweet potatoes, during the week. Ha! Ha! Honey, I guess that’s why Black people don’t like cornbread today; they developed a dislike for it from back then. On Sundays, we had biscuits, and sometimes a little extra food, which old Mistress would send out to Mom for us.

Fer as I think, if slavery had lasted, it would have been pretty tough. As it was, some fared well, while others fared poorly. You know, slaves who were beaten and treated badly; some of them had started coming together and killing the white folks when they carried them out to the field to work. God is punishing some of those old folks and their children right now for the way they used to treat us poor colored folks.

I believe that by getting educated, Black people have benefited, and this younger generation isn’t going to put up with poor treatment from white people anymore. Now this country is a free country; there’s no slavery now.

450013 [11]

Interview of Mrs. Minnie Fulkes
459 E. Byrne Street—Petersburg, Virginia
By—Susie Byrd
March 5, 1937

I was born on December 25th and I am 77 years old. My mother was a slave and she belonged to Dick Belcher in Chesterfield County. Old Dick sold us again to Gelaspe Graves. Just so you know, fifteen of my mother's kids went with her under the same master.

Honey, I don't like to talk about those times because my mother went through a lot of pain. You know there was an overseer who used to tie my mother up in the barn with a rope around her arms above her head while she stood on a block. As soon as they got her tied up, they would move the block, and her feet would dangle—she couldn't touch the floor.

This old man would start whipping her naked until the blood ran down her back to her heels. I saw the welts and scars for myself with these two eyes. (this whip, she said, was a whip like they used to use on horses); it was a piece of leather about as wide as my hand from little finger to thumb. After they had beaten my momma as much as they wanted, they needed another overseer. Lord, Lord, I hate white people, and the floodwaters are gonna drown some more. Well, honey, this man would bathe her in salt and water. Don’t you know those places hurt? Um, um.

I asked Mom what she did to him to make him beat her like that. She said nothing, other than that she refused to be his wife.

An' my mom says, if he didn't treat her this way a dozen times, it wasn't any time at all.

Mind you, now Mom's master didn't know this was happening. You know, if slaves spoke up, those overseers would kill them.

And she said that they used to have meetings and sing and pray, and the old patrolmen would hear them, so to keep the sound from getting out, slaves would put a big iron pot at the door, and you know sometimes they would forget to put the old pot there and the patrolmen would come and horsewhip every last one of them, just because those poor souls were praying to God to free them from that awful bondage.

Ha! Ha! Ha! There was one old brother who studied for them one day and told all the slaves how to get even with them.

He told them to tie grapevines and other vines across the road, then when the patrol officers came galloping by on their fast horses, the vines would tangle them up and cause the horses to stumble and fall. And many times, they would end up breaking their legs, along with the horses. Once, an unfortunate guy got so tangled up that the horse kept carrying him until he fell off, and the next day, a bystander found him in the road with the vines wrapped around his neck so many times that it choked him. They said, "He's totally dead." Served him right because those old white folks treated us so badly.

Well, sometimes, you know they would, the others of them, keep going until they found where this meeting was happening. They would come in and start whipping and beating the slaves mercilessly. All this was done to keep you from serving God, and you know some of those devils were mean and sinful enough to say, "If I catch you here again serving God, I'll beat you. You don't have time to serve God. We bought you to serve us." Um, um.

God's going to deal with those wicked masters. If it doesn't hit them, it's going to fall on their children.

In those days, meetings were held just like we do today, somewhat. The only difference is that the slave who knew the most about the Bible would share and explain what God revealed to him in a vision (you young folks call it a "dream") that freedom would eventually come; and then they prayed for that vision to become a reality, and that’s when the patrollers would whip them again.

Lord! Lord, wow! Baby, I just know I could if I knew how[13] to write, and if I had a little bit of education, I could put together a book on this situation. You know what I mean about these questions you're asking me to elaborate on; as far as I can remember.

When Graves bought us, he sold three of us and three slaves. My brother and sister went down south. Mom said to the cotton country too, she said, "They were made to job in the cotton fields by their new master, out in those white fields in the blazing sun from the time it broke day until you couldn't see at night, and, yes indeed, if God isn't my righteous judge, they were given not half to eat, no, not enough to eat. They were beaten if they asked for any more."

As for marriage, when a slave wanted to get married, he would simply ask his master to approach the other master and request permission to take a certain girl as his wife. Now, all the slaves that the master called out of the quarters would have to line up, standing in a row like soldiers. The man is with his master during this request, and he pulls the girl he wants towards him; then the master makes them both jump over a broomstick, and after they do that, they are declared husband and wife, both staying with their respective masters (I mean, if John marries Sallie, John stays with his old master, and Sallie stays with hers, but they had privileges, you know, like married people; and if children were born, all of them, no matter how many, belonged to the master where the woman stayed).

If I’m not mistaken, I think it was in April when the war ended and my mom and all of us were set free in May. Yes, that old woman, an old cow, oh child, it makes my blood boil when I think about it. Yes, she kept my mom ignorant. Didn’t tell her anything about being free until then in May.

Den her mistess, Miss Betsy Godsey, told her she was free, and she (mama) could cook for her just the same that she would give her something to eat and help clothe us kids, that was if mama continued to stay with her and work.

You see, we didn’t have anything and nowhere to go, um, um, um so we all, you know, just stayed until we were able, with God’s help, to pull ourselves together. But my God, it was against our will, but, baby, we couldn’t help ourselves.[14]

My father's master told him he could farm one half for the other, and when the time came to divide the crops, he gave him his fair share like any honest person would do. Oh, child, those were terrible times! It makes me shudder to think about how some slaves had to hide in the woods and survive as best they could after freedom was declared; slaves with cruel masters would rather be there than where they lived. Eventually, God opened a way for them, and they joined other slaves who had shelters. You see, after the end of slavery, no white people could keep slaves. Do you know, even now, honey, and that was a long time ago, these old white folks think poor Black people are meant to work and slave for them. Look! They don’t pay you any decent wages. A girl can work all week for just two or three dollars. How can you live off that? How can you?

My father served soldiers, and after they surrendered, they took him and his brother all the way to Washington D.C. I think we all used to say "Washington City" back then. Haven't you heard people talk about that city? It’s a really big city, where the President of this country lives; and back in the day, it was seen as the dividing line between the North and South. I've heard white folks talk a lot about that line. As I mentioned, his brother was kept there, but they sent my father back home. Uncle Spencer was left in Prince William County. All of his children are still there. I don't know the name of the Yankee who took him away.

Lord, Lord, Honey, those times were really tough because the Yankees took a lot of slaves away and made homes. And so many families lost track of each other. I know of a case where, after ten years, a brother and sister lived right next to each other and didn’t even know they were related.

My views about the kids back in the day are that these kids coming up now are just too bold for me.

No, let me tell you how I did it. I got married when I was 14 years old. I swear to God, I had no idea what marriage really meant. I thought that when you loved a man, you two could get married, and his wife just had to cook, clean, wash, and iron for him, that was it. I slept in bed; he was on his side and I was on mine for three months, and this isn't a lie. Miss Sue, he never got close to me because my mom had said, "Don't let anybody compromise your principles," because that was all you had. I obeyed my mom and told him that, and I said he should go ask my mom, and if she said he could get close to me, then it would be alright. So, he and I went together to see and ask my mom.

Den muma said, "Come here, kids," and she started telling me to please my husband, that it was my duty as a wife, that he had married a perfect lady.

Dese here chillun don't think about their principles. They run completely wild. The old women too. Not all of them are true to one but have two.

Jes what is getting into this generation; is it the world coming to an end?

Ha! Ha! Ha! I'm going to tell you something else.

I had a young man come to see me one evening, and he said this to me, "Miss Moore, let me join my fence to your plantation."

I give him his hat. I say, "No, you go your way and I'll go mine." I was done with him, and just so you know, from that day until now, I haven't known what he was talking about and was too embarrassed to ask my mom; but I thought he insulted me.

I never went to school. I had to work, and I’m working now, and when the weather is nice, I go fishing. And who takes care of that big garden out there? Nobody but me.

You know I'm the mother of eleven kids, and seven of them are alive while four have passed away.

450014 Copy #1[15]

Interview with Mrs. Georgina Giwbs, Former Slave
By—Thelma Dunston
Portsmouth, Virginia
January 15, 1937

Mrs. Georgina Giwbs, a former slave, lives at 707 Lindsey Avenue, Portsmouth, Virginia. The elderly woman marveled at the significant changes in clothing, habits, and living conditions for Black people since her childhood. She described the clothing of slaves calmly, "All the fabric during slavery was made on the loom. My master had three slaves who worked in the loom house. After the fabric was made, master sent it into town to a white woman who turned it into clothes. We had to knit all our stockings and gloves. We’d braid blades of wheat to make hats. We had to wear wooden-soled shoes. There weren't any stores, so we grew everything we ate, and we made everything we wore."

"We had a washhouse. There were five women who did the washing and ironing. They had to make the soap. That was done by letting water drip over oak ashes. This made oak ash lye, and this was used in making soap. After the clothes had soaked in this lye-soap and water, they put the clothes on tables and beat them until they were white."

"Mister gave us huts to live in. The beds were made of long boards that were nailed to the wall. The mattress was stuffed with straw and pine shavings. The only light we had came from the fireplace. We didn't use any matches; instead, we'd strike a rock on a piece of steel. We'd let the sparks fall on some cotton."

"My master had about five hundred slaves. He never sold any of his slaves, but he always bought more. That prevents the slaves from marrying within their families. When you got married, you had to jump over a broom three times. That was the license. If the master saw two slaves together too much, he would marry them. It didn't matter if you were only fourteen years old."

"Work started at sunrise and lasted until sunset. When I was eight years old, I began working in the field with two paddles to deter the crows from eating the crops.[16] We had a half day off on Sunday, but we weren't allowed to visit. Sometimes the male slaves would put logs in the beds and cover them up, then they would go out. Master would see the logs and think they were the slaves."

"My father told me there was once a master who sold a enslaved woman and her son. Many years later, the woman got married. One day, while she was washing her husband's back, she noticed a scar on his back. The woman remembered the scar. It was the scar her master had put on her son. Of course, they didn't stay married, but the woman would never let her son leave her."

Superstitions shared by Mrs. Georgina Giwbs

1. "If a dog rolls over and howls, it's a sign of death."

2. "If you drop a dish rag on the floor and it spreads out, that's a sign that a hungry woman is going to come to your house. If the rag doesn't spread out, then a hungry man is coming."

3. "If a black cat crosses your path going to the right, it's good luck. If the cat goes to the left, it's bad luck."

4. "If a girl walks around with one shoe off and one on, she'll stay single for as many years as the number of steps she's taken."

450006 [17]

Interview of Mrs. Candis Goodwin
Age 80
Cape Charles, Virginia

Ah don't know exactly how old I am, but I was born before the war. I was born over there at Seaview, on old Master Scott's plantation. It’s not far from here. Yeah, I guess I was about six years old when the Yankees came, just a little thin, you know.

My white people are good to me. They get mad at you sometimes, but they never hit us; they just act like it. I was just like their kids; I played with them, ate with them, and even slept with them. I guess I was kind of childish. I had my own way of doing things. My mom worked in the kitchen in the quarter. She didn’t have to work as hard as some others. She had it a bit easier, too. Just like I told you, I always got my way. I get what I want, and if they don’t give it to me, I just take it.

No one really had any work to do back then except taking care of the babies. It was just like play; it wasn’t work at all. I used to go over to Nottingham's to play, along with the Missus's children, you know. I liked going over there because they had good jam and biscuits. If they didn’t give me any, I just took some. They didn't do anything; just said, "Take your hand out that plate." But I got what I wanted then. We kids used to have a great time at the old Missus's place. All of us kids used to get together and go into the woods to play. Yes, the white kids and the black kids, too. The big white boys used to come along with us, as well. You know how we played? We took the brown pine shadows and made houses out of them and then made grass out of the green ones. Then we would go over to the Missus's dairy and steal anything we wanted and take it to our houses in the woods. Those were good old times, I tell you, honey.

Tell you what I used to do. I used to play pranks on old Master Scott. I was a real little devil, I was. Come nighttime, everybody would sit around the big fireplace in the living room. Soon it would get kind of late, and Master would get up from his chair to wind the clock. I'd get behind his chair real quiet and quickly sneak it out from under him; and when he finished, he'd sit right down on the floor! Then he'd say, "Doggone you little rascal, I'm going to give you a spanking!" I would just fly out of the room. Not scared though because[18] I know Master wouldn't do anything to me.

What I know about whippings. Well, I’ve never had a whipping in my life. But I’ve heard about how they whip people, though. You know they used to take that cowhide and cut it until their backs bleed. Some just like to see the blood run down. You better not cry either. You’d have to shout, "Oh pray! oh pray!" You couldn’t say anything else. But Massa Scott never had that kind of stuff on his place. He said it wasn’t right. He didn’t allow any patrollers around either. He said they were "treacherous." Massa Nottingham never had them on his place either. He never struck one of his people; nobody else better not either.

Honey, I grew up just as well as any child in this country. Old Missus Scott gave me nice clothes; I didn’t get them more than twice a year, but they’re nice when I do. She gave me my sister's dresses. My sister was one of Missus' little girls. And the white kids taught me how to read, too. Of course, the white folks didn’t want us to learn. I remember just as clearly as yesterday how one of those kids taught me to read “compressibility.” I thought I was so clever then! I can read the Bible a little now, but I can’t write; I never learned to write.

Did I ever go to church? Of course I did! I went along with the kids from my mistress. I had to sit in the back, but that was okay. My mother went to church too. Sometimes the older folks would gather in the quarter-kitchen to shout and pray. That’s where my mother got her faith. She was a bit delicate; she couldn’t stand that preaching for too long.

What about my dad? That's something I haven't told you about. Well, you know Uncle Stephen, he's kind of the overseer for some widowed women. He's Mommer's husband. He comes to see my mom whenever he feels like it. But I found out he isn't my dad. I've known that since I was little. I used to go over to Massa William's plantation. They would tell me all about it. The folks over there used to ask me, "Who's your dad? Who's your dad?" I would just say, "A turkey buzzard laid me and the sun hatched me," and then go about my business. Of course, all the time they know and I know too that Massa Williams is my dad. I'll tell you something else. I have a brother living right on this street; he's a dentist, you know, someone who pulls your teeth. Of course, he's white. But it isn't known around here. It would ruin him. He's a nice man though. He used to visit my son and his wife a lot. Yes, they're good friends.

Yes, they had overseers. Sometimes they called them stewards. There were also people of color among them. Mr. Scott had white overseers, a good man though; but Mr. Nottingham, he had a big black boss on his place. [HW unreadable over: can't] I remember his name. He didn’t have to get any permission to come to our place. He just came and went whenever he wanted.

Do you remember the war? Yes, I definitely do! I remember it just like it was yesterday. Well, there was a store down the corner from the master’s plantation, and they always sent me to the store to buy things. I used to go down there, and those Yankees would be sitting all along the road in their blue coats; it was quite a sight! But I was scared to death when I got near them. I grabbed what I needed from the store and rushed past them. Those Yankees certainly knew how to make their presence felt. They went into all the white folks' houses, taking their silver and anything they could carry out. They just wrecked the mistress's furniture; they would get up on the tables and just cut into everything. Nasty things! Then the Yankees would go around at night, taking anyone they wanted to help them fight. That was their "Civil right." I got my Jake, but I never knew him back then. He was twelve years older than I am.

Lemme tell you about my Jake, how he did in the war. He was a big man in that war. He trained soldiers every day. First, he was in one of those companies—Company "C," I believe. Then he worked his way up to sergeant-major in the Tenth Regiment. Jacob [HW unreadable over: Godium] was his name. He said everyone looked up to him and respected him too. See that sword over in the corner? That’s the very sword he used in the war, and I’ve kept it all these years. Now, the soldiers never did any fighting around here that I know of. But plenty of them camped here.

My Jake, he was a handsome man. Remember how we first got together? We were at church one Sunday, and Jake kept coming up to me. I was looking at him out of the corner of my eye until finally he came over and took my hands. It was after the war, and I had grown up. I was in my early teens then. They said I was the prettiest girl on the Shore. And when Jake and I got married, everyone said, "You sure make a pretty[20] couple."

The old Scott kids I grew up with? No, most of them are gone now. The last girl died here last year and her daughter came all the way down from Maryland to tell "Aunt Candis" about it. She wouldn't tell me because she was afraid it would upset me. But I heard her telling my kids all about it. Old Master Scott's kids, some of them still come to see me. They slip me some money now and then, and they bring food to eat too. They're all really nice people, those Scotts are.

450011 [21]

Interview of Mr. Charles Grandy, Ex-slave
By—David Hoggard
Date—February 26, 1937

[HW: Norfolk, VA.]

History of Ex-Slave and Civil War Veteran

Charles Grandy was born on February 19, 1842, in Mississippi. While he was still an infant, his family moved to Norfolk. When they arrived in Norfolk, his father was arrested on some false charge, and the entire family was put in jail. After they were released, they were taken to a plantation near Hickory Ground, Virginia, and sold. At that time, slaves were often transported to rural areas in carts and sold to plantation owners as needed. Family life, friendships, and romantic relationships were frequently disrupted; many times, they never reunited.

Following the typical routine of enslaved people, the Grandy family was given a small cabin; food and clothing were also provided to them, which had to last until the master decided to distribute more. Usually, he gave them their food allowance weekly. Often, the supply was not enough to meet their needs.

Charles played around the plantation's big house, doing small errands until he turned five, when his playtime came to an end. One morning, while playing on the woodpile, his master called him, "Boy, do you see this grass growing along the side of the fence? Pull it all up." Once he finished his first task, he was taken to the field to pull grass from the young cotton and other crops. This work was done by hand because he was still too young to use the farm tools. He went to work daily, from early morning until late evening. The long, hard days completely wore him out. Often, he would fall asleep before getting home and spend a good part of the night on the bare ground. When he woke up, he would find it quite challenging to locate his home in the darkness of night.[22]

From pulling grass by hand, he became strong enough, in a few years, to use a hoe, rake, and sickle. While trying to follow his master's orders to cut corn tassels with a large sharp knife, he seriously cut his elbow. He was taken to the house and treated with chimney soot to stop the bleeding. After this treatment, his arm was put in a sling and eventually became deformed from lack of proper care. He was sent back to the fields to pick cotton with one free hand and his teeth, while painfully carrying the other hand in the sling. If he failed to obey this command, he would have faced a whipping or been sent to the southlands. Sending slaves to the plantations of Mississippi and other southern states was a punishment that all slaves feared.

Slaves had very little freedom to worship. The Yankee soldiers and officers played a significant role in the moral education and religious practices of the slaves. They covertly taught small groups of slaves at night. The main points emphasized were obedience and the wrongness of stealing. In some areas, there were masters who were more lenient towards their slaves and allowed them to worship openly.

Slaves could have small amounts of whiskey, even on their worship days, for medicinal reasons. It was quite common to see whiskey being sold at the bottom of the hill near the churchyard.

The news of war and the possibility of Black people joining the army was truly a step closer to fulfilling their prayers for freedom. After hearing this good news, Grandy joined a few others in their quest for freedom. One night, he and a close friend packed a small amount of food in a cloth and set out around midnight to join the northern army. Traveling mostly at night, they constantly faced the risk of being caught again. After successfully dodging their pursuers, they reached Portsmouth after many close calls. From Portsmouth, they moved on to Norfolk.[23] Upon arriving in Norfolk, Grandy and his friend decided to take different paths. For several days and nights, he wandered the outskirts of Norfolk, surviving on wild berries and such. While picking berries along a ditch bank, a Union soldier called out to him. Having encountered runaway slaves before, the soldier greeted him warmly and asked about his home and skills. He was taken to camp and assigned as a cook. At first, he struggled with the job, but gradually he improved. He was asked what wages he would accept. It was such a relief to know that he had escaped slavery that he didn’t ask for wages; instead, he was willing to work for anything they would give him, no matter how little, as long as he didn't have to go back to slavery.

Within a short time, he received a uniform and a gun and officially enlisted as a soldier in the 19th Regiment of Wisconsin, Company E. He served there until November 1862, after which he returned to Norfolk to spend some time with his mother, who was still alive. One day, while sitting in the doorway with her, he was presented with the option to reenlist. He decided to do so for one year to serve as a guard at Fortress Monroe. He stayed there until the end of the war, providing brave and dedicated service.

Mr. Grandy is now 95 years old, living at 609 Smith Street, Norfolk, Virginia. He still attends various Civil War Veterans conventions. He can read, write, and has a good understanding of the Bible. His main interest is organizing Black individuals into strong groups. He enjoys discussing religion and is a very interesting and intelligent person to talk with.

450005 [24]

Interview of Mrs. Della Harris
2 E. Byrne Street
Petersburg, Virginia
By—Susie Byrd
February 5, 1937

"I don't know how old I am. Mom sent me to private school with white kids for one week. I was 13 years old when Lee surrendered. I belong to Peter or Billy Buck Turnbull in Warrenton, N.C. Put this away. My mother and family are all Peter Buck's slaves. We didn't work until after the war; then we moved to Petersburg. I went to dance school with the white folks and can dance any kind of dance set. My father was a musician. He belonged to John Carthan in Warrenton, N.C. Back then, you had to take your Master's and Mistress's name. During slavery, when a slave got married, they had to ask their Master and Mistress."

"We never went to church. We could hear the bells ringing loudly, baby, yes, clear and strong. No, I had never seen Sunday school, and the first time I stepped inside a church, I looked all around, and baby, I thought I was in heaven. It wasn't long, Miss Sue, before I found my faith, and yes, I joined the church when I was 15 years old. I will never forget that time or that place. Then I lived here with an aunt, my mom's sister, named Kate Williams. Her husband was my uncle, and he worked and passed away at the White House in Washington, D.C.

"I don't know the name of the President he worked for, but you can find that out in those books. You know you young people call them records."

"Yes, kid, I'm proud of my age; I've never caused anyone any trouble."

"I have 8 children who have died and now only one son left. Peter Turnbull was good to all his slaves, as far as I can tell. Mama was a cook during slavery. She died in Petersburg, yes, right here in this place."

"No mom ever owned anything, always rented and never owned anything but a bunch of kids."

"My mom was a authentic Indian. Some people say you can't own Indians. I don't know how that works, but I do know she was owned by these people, but she definitely was an Indian. Everybody knows me all over Virginia.[25]

"When I used to work in dining room service, I would hear the white folks talking, and, you know, Miss Sue, you can learn a lot that way?"

"Moster said he couldn't sell me because I was so small. He just kept me for looking after the little kids in the house."

"Miss Sue, you'll have to give me something for telling you all this, even if it's just a horse cake."

"I've seen a lot of this world through travel. I've been to Baltimore City; I've been to Philadelphia."

"I’m not going to give you anything more, girl.

"Yeah, my time in Lynchburg was spent working at Mont Royal School, Baby, where Mrs. McDaniel was the manager."

"The man is going to say, 'that woman has been somewhere.' If I had stayed long enough, I might have learned something, but I only stayed one year. I got tired of that place. From one season to another is a year, right? Ah! Lord!"

"Young people these days just want to have a good time, and they're definitely having one. Yes, absolutely!"

"Gonna stop now, Miss Sue, ain't gonna give you any more. Man's gonna say, Miss Sue, where in the world did you get this stuff? Girl, you are a mess. You're going to write most of that book about Della. Come on now, that's enough."

"In those days, kids were kids; now everybody's grown up. Back then, children were seen but not heard. When adults came over, Mom would send us outside, and you better not be spotted. Now everybody acts all grown up. Make the man laugh."

"I've always been healthy. I've never seen a doctor in my life, not even when my kids were born. Rubbing sore spots when people are in pain just makes it worse. Eating too much and staying up late is why you young folks are dying. All of my kids were healthy."

"[HW: Real] food back then, yeah, Mom made sure we had good meals from white folks. I tell you, we had good owners. I didn't see the sunset when I was a kid. Always went to bed early,[26] child, I wish I could relive those days. Mom said people lived a lot longer because they took care of themselves."

"All this education and people just got it."

[HW: Question:] Do you think, Mrs. Harris, education has benefited our community?

"Well, kid, I don’t know. People are so indifferent now I’m afraid to say. Pshaw… Black folks now. Some are messy [HW: and] don’t know how to be polite."

"Talking about lightning days. It's lightning at everybody's house. Lord have mercy on these young folks and deliver me from the plantation, I pray."

"Dating these days is pretty much like everything you all do nowadays. You promise to be the man, but before you finish, it’s just cursing, Honey."

"In the past, husbands loved. God looked after their wives and took care of them, and they had to stay home because there was always a new baby. I tell you, Miss Sue, you should never have found history because you’re going to share everything. As I said, we loved. Do young people get married for love these days? They don’t stay together long enough to even warm up. We went to church together and praised God; led prayer meetings and, yes indeed, it felt good."

"Now you all have started opening theaters on Sundays. Miss Sue, all that stuff you’re putting down will definitely make the guy laugh."

450004 [27]

Interview of Mrs. Marriah Hines
E. Avenue R.F.D. 1.
Oakwood Norfolk, Virginia
By—David Hoggard
March 26, 1937

Mrs. Marriah Hines—Born July 4, 1835, South Hampton County, Virginia, a slave on James Pressman's plantation. Now living on E. Avenue, Oakwood, Norfolk, Virginia R.F.D. 1.

[HW: Insert last paragraph] [TR: appropriate paragraph inserted here] Marriah is about four and a half feet tall and weighs around one hundred pounds. She has a lovely head of white hair framing her round brown face. Her memories of her parents are quite hazy because they passed away when she was young. She can almost dress herself without any help and can move around on her own, enjoying conversations about religion and [HW: what she knows about] the world [HW: of] today.

Even though the overall experience of slavery was brutal, Marriah Hines was lucky enough not to face its harshness. James Pressman was one of the few slave owners who viewed his slaves with some level of compassion, and Marriah was fortunate to be owned by him. Although slavery itself was cruel, it's important to note that Mr. Pressman was generous and kind to the slaves he owned out of necessity for his farming needs. It's true that other slave owners nearby did not extend the same privileges he did. I don't mean to suggest that Mr. Pressman opposed slavery; rather, his general attitude toward his slaves differed from those of most slaveholders. The following account of Marriah's life in slavery clearly shows that her master was an exception.

When asked about her life, she tells her story like this—

"I lived with good people; my white folks treated us well. There were plenty of others who didn’t fare as we did. Some of the poor folks almost starved to death. The way their masters treated them was terrible; they treated them like animals. We always had enough food and never knew what it was like to want food so badly that we had to steal it, unlike many of them. Our master would always give us plenty when he handed out our rations. Of course, we slaves were given food and clothing, just enough to keep us going well. Our master would buy bolts of cloth and boxes full of shoes; then he’d call us to the house and give each of us our share. It was plenty to keep us comfortable; it wasn’t silk or satin, not the best there was, but it was good enough for us, and we were very glad to get it. When we looked and saw how the slaves on the adjoining farm were doing, it almost made us cry. It made us feel like we were doing just fine. That’s why we respected our master; he was so good to us."

"'Cause the master was good and kind to us, some of the other white folks used to call him 'nigger lover.' He didn't pay that any mind though. He was a true Christian man, and I mean he really lived up to it. He never forced any of us to go to church; if we didn't want to, that was up to us to decide. If you wanted to go, you could, if you didn't, you didn't have to, but he'd always tell us we ought to go.

"Not only was the master good, but his whole family was too. When the weather was nice, we worked in the fields and on other small jobs that needed to be done. We slaves would eat our breakfast and head to the fields without any rush. Many times, when we got to the fields, the other slaves had already been working for a long time. There were times, though, when we had to get started early, especially if it had rained and work had been delayed for a day or so. The master didn’t make us work at all in bad weather, especially when it got really cold. The men might have to gather firewood or do something similar, but not all-day work in the cold—just little odd jobs. We didn’t even have to work on Sundays, not even inside the house. The master and the preacher both said that was the Lord’s day, and you weren’t supposed to work then. So we didn’t. We’d cook the white folks’ meals on Saturday, and many times they ate cold food on Sundays. Sometimes, the master would invite the preacher over for dinner. ‘You’re more than welcome to come home with me for dinner, but you’ll have to eat cold food because there’s no cooking on Sundays at my house.’ Many times, we slaves would take turns helping serve Sunday meals just because we liked them so much. We hated to see Missie struggling in the kitchen, all out of her element. We didn’t have to do it; we just did it of our own free will. The master sometimes gave us a little money for it too, which made it even better. The master and mistress were so good to us that we didn’t mind working a little inside on Sundays. The master had prayer with the whole family every night and prayed for us slaves too. Any slaves who wanted to join him could, or if they preferred to pray by themselves, they could do that. On Sundays, we went to church and stayed for most of the day. Nobody had to rush home. On our plantation, we had a general prayer meeting every Wednesday night at church. Because some of the masters didn’t like the way we slaves worshipped, we would turn pots upside down and tubs to keep the noise from getting out. Then we would have a great time, shouting, singing, and praying just as we pleased. The patrollers didn’t pay us much attention because they knew how the master let us behave. They would say nasty things about the master because he allowed us to do what we did."

We had plenty of time to ourselves. Most of the time, we spent singing and praying because the master was such a good Christian, and most of us practiced our faith. In the evenings, we would sit by the old spinning wheel, make quilts, sew clothes, chat, tell jokes, and a few had learned to weave a bit from Missus. We would have candy pulls with cooked molasses and sing in the moonlight to the tune of an old banjo player. Kids were mostly seen and not heard, unlike the kids today who talk back and forth to their parents. Kids who did that back then would get their breath smacked out of them. Your parents didn’t have to do it either; any adult would step in and send you home for another spanking. We slaves had two hours off for dinner, when we could go home and eat before finishing work around sundown. We didn’t have any colored overseers or white ones to whip us. We just went along and did what we had to without anyone watching over us. Everyone was just crazy about the master. During the day, you could see him strutting down the field like a big turkey to check on how work was going. He always had a smile and a joke for us. He would always tell us we were doing great, even sometimes when we weren’t. We always made sure to catch up on our work so he wouldn’t have to complain. We loved Missus and the kids so much that we hardly let them eat. Missus didn’t really have to do much; there was always someone around the house.

"'Bout a year before we heard about freedom, the master got sick, and the slaves looked no sadder than if one of their own kids had been sick. They expected him to die, and he kept asking for some cabbage. The missus finally let me cook him some cabbage and gave him some 'pot licker' (the water the cabbage was cooked in).[30] He didn't die then, but a few years later he did pass away. That was the first and last time any cooking was done in that house on a Sunday.

"When the master told us we were free, it didn't really affect us much. He said we could go wherever we wanted and come back whenever we wanted, that we didn't have to work for him anymore unless we wanted to. Most of us stayed right there and grew our own crops. The master helped us as much as he could. He gave some of us a cow or a mule or anything he could spare to assist us. Some of us worked on the same plantation and bought our own little farms and log cabins, and lived there until the master died and the family moved away. Some of us continued to live there. The master married me to one of the best men in the world, Benjamin F. Hines. I had five children with him, four girls and one boy; two of the girls and the boy have passed away. They died around 1932 or 33. I stay with one for a while, then I go and stay with the other one."

"We didn't have any public schools back then. The little education you got came from the white kids."

450012 [31]

[HW: Terms and phrases to be reviewed and confirmed in future interviews.]

THE STORY OF "UNCLE" MOBLE HOPSON.
(pronounced Mobile)

Interview on Saturday, November 28th at his home on the Poquoson River.
(Recorded from memory within 1 hour after talking to him.)

Uncle Moble hobbles awkwardly from his little spot of shade next to the outhouse into the warm kitchen, leaning heavily on his niece's arm. He looks up when he hears my voice and reaches out with a gnarled, tobacco-stained hand. He fumbles as he settles into a chair. That's when I realize that Uncle Moble is blind.

"No, don't worry about me if you ask me questions. I'll do my best to answer them. Just tell me what you want to know. I was born in '52, right here where that big elm tree used to be. My mom was Native American and my dad was a white man; at least he wasn't a slave, even if he was kind of dark-skinned."

"Ole pappy told me about how the whites, blacks, and the Injuns got all mixed up. A long time ago, he never told me exactly what year, there was a tribe of Injuns living along this river. They were related to the Kink-ko-tans, but they weren't the same. The Kink-ko-tans were over on the James and this tribe was over here."

"Well, the white man came. Not from over there. The white man came across the Potomac, and then he crossed the York River, and then he came across the Poquoson River into this place. My dad told me just how they crossed all those rivers. He didn't see it, you understand, but he heard how it happened."

"This is what the white man does. He picks a tall elm tree by the river and climbs to the top. He marks a section on the trunk with his axe about thirty to forty feet up. Then he cuts the top off and the bottom, so the thick trunk falls right at the edge of the river. Then he yells out that elm log until he makes himself a boat, and he strips the bark off so it doesn't get caught in the weeds. Then he makes himself a paddle, and they all make paddles and they float that boat and paddle across to the other side."

"Well, they crossed the Potomac and had to fight the Indians and they crossed the York and fought some more until they killed all the Indians[33] or drove them away. When they crossed the Poquoson, they found that the Indians weren't looking to fight, but they killed the men and took the Indian women as their wives. Of course, there wasn't any marrying them at that time."

"Well, that's how my people started. I hear that they have to fight the Indians now and then, and then the British came and they fought the British."

"During all that time, there wasn't any black blood mixed in them, at least not that I heard of. There were plenty of black folks around; I saw them. My dad would never have any. My uncle had them over on that pasture land that was his."

"Why I used to go out there for many days and watch them at work [HW: in the tobacco fields.] They were big guys, with coal-black skin shining with sweat just like they rubbed hog fat on their faces. I never bothered them, but my brother—he died since '93—he got a beating one day for going into the field with the Black workers."

[HW: Insert] "Well, we all hear about it, [HW: and I listened to the adults talk about it,] but they didn't pay much attention to it. Then one day, the Black folks in the fields noticed that there was no one out there to make them work. They just stood around[34] and laughed, waiting, but they didn't leave that field all morning. And then the word came that the Yankees were coming, and all those people started cheering and shouting, and then they went down to their shacks and didn't do any work at all that day.

"Sure enough, when the Yanks [HW: get here] there aren't any slaveholders around. They've all left, and the black folks are singing, praying, and shouting for joy because Master Lincoln has set them free."

"Well, they took the Black people and marched them down the turnpike to Hampton, and then they put them to work at the fort. I've never been over there, but I hear how the Black people come from all around until there are so many that they don’t have enough work for them to do. So, they have them piling up logs and taking them down again, and the Yankees come and go, and new ones arrive, but they’re not causing much trouble except to poach a hog or turkey now and then."

"Ah was just a little kid getting into my teens then, but I remember it clear as day. And I hear there was a big[35] battle up Bethel way, and they say they killed a bunch of men, both the Confederates and the Yankees. But I haven't seen it, though Uncle Shep Brown told me all about it."

"Uncle Shep Brown lived a bit down by the river. Long before the Yankees arrived, he joined up with the Confederates. He fought in that battle at Big Bethel, but he didn't get a scratch. He tells me all about the war when he comes back home. He tells me all about the fall of Richmond, he does."

"One day down in the lower woods in the shade, Uncle Shep told me about Richmond. I remember it just like it was yesterday. He was whittling a stick, sitting on a stump with his game leg propped up on a bent sapling. He was whittling away for a long time without saying much, and then all of a sudden he jumped in the air, and the sapling sprang up, and he started cursing."

"'Damn it, damn it, damn it,' he kept saying to himself and limping around with that leg pain from rheumatism. I know he's going to tell me something then because when Uncle Shep gets excited[36] he always has a lot to say.

"'Goddammit,' he said, 'it was the guys who took Richmond.'"

"'How do they do that, Uncle Shep?' I asked, even though I knew he was going to tell me anyway."

"'The guys have taken Richmond,' he keeps on saying and finally he tells me how they took Richmond."

"'I saw it myself,' he said, 'my company was stationed on the turnpike near Richmond. We were in an old warehouse,' he told me, 'with the windows and the doors all barred up and packed with tobacco bales waiting for the Yanks to come. And we were listening and peeking out, and we had been waiting there most of the evening. And then we heard a whistling and a roaring like a big wind, and it kept getting closer. But we couldn't see anything because the night was so dark. That roaring kept getting louder and louder, and by daybreak, there came down the pike such shouting and yelling as I had never heard in my life.'

"'And the men in that warehouse kept asking away in the darkness without saying anything, because they didn't know what[37] devils the Yankees were letting loose. But I stayed right there with those who had the courage to face it, because I know big noise means a little storm.'"

"'There were about forty of us left in that old warehouse hiding behind those bales of cotton and tobacco, and peeking out through the cracks.'"

"'And then they came. Down the street they came—a shouting and dancing and yelling and singing and making such a noise like all hell had broken loose. A mob of guys. I’ve never known guys—even all of them—could make such a racket. One huge sea of black faces filled the streets from wall to wall, and there were nothing but guys in sight.'

"'Well, sir, there wasn't any use in us firing at them because there was no way we were going to kill all of them. And pretty soon they broke into the door of that warehouse, and we stood there while they danced around us, shouting and making a fuss without bothering us at all until the Union soldiers came and took away our guns, made us prisoners, and pretty soon they marched us into town and locked us up in old Libby Prison.'[38]

"'Thousands of them—those guys,' he said, 'Yes sir—were the guys that took Richmond. By the time the Yankees got there, the guys had already captured the city.'"

[HW: Why Uncle Moble is Black]

Uncle Moble is a dignified figure. He turns his head towards me when I ask questions, as if he is genuinely looking at me.

"Do you want to know why I'm categorized with the Black community? [HW: Sure, I have white skin, at least I was white the last time I checked.] Well, I’m neither white nor Black, at least not as far as I know. It was the war that changed that. Before the war, there wasn’t any question about it. There haven’t been any schools around here to worry about. Black folks work in the fields, and white folks own the fields. This land here has been owned by the Hopsons since the first Hopson came here, I guess, back before the British war, before the Indian war, I reckon. I used to go to the church school with old Shep Brown's children; I sat on the same bench as them.

"But the war changed all that. After the soldiers came back home, it was different. First, they said that everyone who isn’t white is black.[39] And [HW: then] they told the Indians you can't marry whites anymore. And then they told us that we can't come to church school anymore. And they won't let us do any business with the whites, so we're thrown in with the blacks."

Some of our folks moved away, but there wasn't any point in leaving because I heard it would be the same everywhere. So pretty soon it was time to get married, and there weren't any white women for me to marry, so I married a Black woman. And that makes me Black, I suppose, because I've been living as a Black man ever since.

"But my brother couldn't find any black woman that suited him, I guess, because he married his first cousin, who was a Hopson herself."

"Then their only child married a Hopson, and the Hopsons have been marrying Hopsons ever since, I reckon."

Uncle Moble Shares Where to Dig a Well[40]

"That well out there? Nah, that’s not old. It's been there maybe fifteen or twenty years. The old well was old, but it never was very good. Dad didn’t dig it in the right spot. Old Shep Brown told him, but my dad never paid any attention to old Shep."

"But old Shep definitely knew how to dig a well. I can see him coming up the lane while Dad was digging. Mobile he says—my dad and I had the same name—Mobile, you're not digging that well in the right place."

"'Digging it where I want it,' answers dad, digging away in the hole that's shoulder deep.

"'Well, you aren't going to get much water. You should have got yourself a elm stick.'"

"'Don't need no elm stick. Digging this well in my own yard and I'm gonna dig it just where I want it. Go ahead and dig your own well.'"

"Well, old Shep must have gotten pretty angry because he goes home and the next day he digs himself a well."

"Ah saw him. Ah watched him when he figured where to dig that well. Sure enough, old Shep got himself a prime elm stick from a good-sized forked branch. First, he stripped all the bark off."

"'You can't find any water unless you strip the bark off,' he told me. It was about 2-3 feet on each limb. Well, old Shep took that elm stick with one fork in each hand and the big end pointing straight up in the air, and he held it tight and started to walk around, with me following right on his heels. And sure enough, pretty soon I saw that branch start to shake and then it began to bend, and old Shep let it lead him across the field while it kept bending lower until pretty soon the big end of that elm stick was pointing straight down.'

"Old Shep marked the spot and got his pick and started to dig out that area. And before old Shep had gone down more than five or six feet, I swear he didn’t hit a stream of water that filled up the well in a hurry so that he got his legs all wet before he could climb out."

"And you might believe it, but I know it to be a fact because I took that elm stick in my own hands and I felt that stick pulling me back toward that water. No matter which way I turned, that stick kept twisting me around toward that water. I tried to pull it back and old Shep held onto it with me and tried to hold it up straight, but the big end of that elm branch pulled down and pointed to that well despite both of us."

"Still there? Nah, I think that old well has collapsed and filled in a long time ago. Old Shep died back in '93, I think. His old shack blew down, and I guess that old well is all covered up now. But it was quite a well while it lasted. It provided more water than all the other wells in Poquoson, I believe."

450008 [42]

[HW: Albert Jones]

Interview of Ex-slave and
Civil War Veteran
Portsmouth, Virginia
By—Thelma Dunston
January 8, 1937

Civil War Veteran from Portsmouth, Virginia

On the outskirts of Portsmouth, Virginia, an area rarely visited for sightseeing, lives Mr. Albert Jones. In a four-room cottage at 726 Lindsey Avenue, the elderly Civil War veteran lives alone, with help from his niece who lives next door. He has made it to his ninety-fifth year. It's almost miraculous to see a man his age so flexible.

On stepping into a small, sparsely furnished room in the house, Mr. Jones was dozing in a chair by the stove. When asked about his early life, he straightened up, crossed his legs, and said, "I’m pretty old—ninety-six. I was born a slave in Southampton County, but my master was really good to me. He wasn't rough; that is if you did what you were supposed to."

The old man cleared his throat and chuckled. Then he said, "But you'd better never let the master catch you with a book or paper, and you couldn't praise God so he could hear you. If you did those things, he definitely would beat you. Of course, he was good to me because I never did any of them. My work wasn't hard either. I had to wait on my master, open the gates for him, drive the wagon, and take care of the horses. I was kind of a house boy."

"For twenty years I stayed with my master, and I didn’t try to run away. When I was twenty-one, my brother and I ran away to join the Yankees. We left Southampton County and went to Petersburg. There, we got some food. Then we went to Fort Hatton, where we met some other slaves who had also escaped. When we arrived at Fort Hatton, we had to cross a bridge to reach the Yankees. The rebels had destroyed the bridge. We all came together and rebuilt the bridge, and then we continued on to the Yankees. They gave us food and clothes.[43]"

The old man then got up and spat out the tobacco juice, scratched his bald head, and continued. "You know, I was one of the first colored cavalry soldiers, and I fought in Company 'K.' I fought for three and a half years. Sometimes I slept outdoors, and sometimes I slept in a tent. The Yankees always gave us plenty of blankets."

"During the war, some of us had to stay up nights and watch for the rebels. There were plenty of nights I watched, but the rebels never attacked us when I was on."

"Not only were there male slaves who ran to the Yankees, but some of the female slaves followed their husbands. They used to help by washing and cooking."

"One day when I was fighting, the rebels shot at me, and they fired a bullet through my hand. I was lucky not to be killed. Look. See how my hand is?"

The old man raised his right hand, which was partially closed. Because of the injury he sustained in the war, that was the maximum he could open his hand.

Still looking at his hand, Mr. Jones said, "But that didn't stop me; I had it bandaged and kept on fighting."

"The uniform I wore was blue with brass buttons; a blue cape, lined with red flannel, black leather boots, and a blue cap. I rode on a bay-colored horse—everyone in Company 'K' had bay-colored horses. I took my knapsack and blankets on horseback. In my knapsack, I had water, hardtack, and other food."

"When the war ended, I went back to my master, and he treated me like his brother. I guess he was scared of me because I had so much ammunition with me. My brother, who went with me to the Yankees, caught rheumatism during the war. He died after the war ended."

W11805  [TR: moved from bottom of page][44]

Writer—Lucille B. Jayne
Capahosic, VA
Gloucester Co.
Typist—Nicholas

[HW: C. Moore]
[HW: Tales]
[HW: Virginia/1938-9]

FOLKLORE

Material from Upper Guinea.

In the northern part of Guinea, commonly referred to as the "Hook," you will find two very interesting people, both Black. Aunt Susan Kelly, who is a hundred years old, and Simon Stokes, who is nearly a hundred.

Aunt Susan is loved by everyone who knows her because she is a very charming elderly Black woman.

Aunt Susan's Story

"My mom, Anna Burrell, was a slave; her master was Col. Hayes of Woodwell. He was very good to his slaves. He never sold my mom or us kids; he kept us all together, and we lived in a small cabin in the yard."

"My job was taking care of the master's and mistress's children all day long, and putting them to bed at night; they needed a story told to them before they could go to sleep; and the baby had to be rocked; and I had to sing for her 'Rock-a-bye baby, close your eyes, before the old man comes, rock-a-bye baby don’t let the old man catch you peeping,' before she would go to sleep."

"Mammy used to bake ash cakes; they were made with meal, a little salt, and mixed with water. Then Mammy would rake up the ashes in the fireplace. After that, she would shape the meal into round cakes and place them on the hot bricks to bake. When they had cooked around the edges, she would sprinkle ashes on top of them, and when they were nice and brown, she took them out and rinsed them off with water."

"Mammy said it's really bad luck to meet a woman early in the morning while walking; and never bring back salt that you borrowed, because it will bring bad luck to you and to the person you borrowed it from. If your nose itches on the right side, a man is coming; if it itches on the left side, a woman is coming; if it itches at the end, both a man and a woman are sure to arrive soon."

"For a hawk to fly over the house is definitely a sign of death because the hawk calls to the corpses when it flies above."

Simon Stokes, son of Kit and Anna Stokes, is quite a character. He and his[45] parents, along with his brothers and sisters, were slaves owned by George W. Billups from Mathews County, who later relocated to Gloucester County and bought a farm near Gloucester Point. They had eleven children, and Simon is the only one still alive.

Simon's Journey

"Massa George and Missus were good to his slaves. My mom was Missus' cook; and he and the other boys on the farm worked in the corn, tobacco, and cotton fields."

"Sure didn't like that job, picking worms off the tobacco plants; our overseer was the meanest old dog you've ever seen, he had sharp eyes for spotting the worms on the tobacco, so you really had to get them all, or you'd have to bite all the worms you missed, or get three lashes on your back with his old whip, and that was really bad, worse than biting the worms, because you could bite pretty quickly, and that was all there was to it; but those lashes lasted a really long time."

"Sure did love to get behind the ox team in the cornfield, so I could sing and shout all day, 'Come on, Buck, whoa there, Peter, get off that corn, what's wrong with you, Buck, can't you hear, come on, Buck.'"

"In the fall when the persimmons were ripe, my friends and I would have a great time possum hunting. We would usually catch two or three each night, and we would keep them and feed them hoe-cake and persimmons to fatten them up. Then my mom would roast them with sweet potatoes around them. They were really good, all roasted nicely brown with the sweet potatoes in the gravy."

"We all believed that it was bad luck to turn back once you started somewhere. If you did, bad luck would surely follow you; but to change your luck, go back, make a cross in your path, and spit on it."

450001 [46]

Richard Slaughter's Autobiography

(Given by himself as an oral account during an interview between him and the writer, December 27, 1936.) Claude W. Anderson—Hampton, Virginia

"Come in, son. Have a seat. Who are you, and how are you? My life? Oh! I'm sure you don't want to hear about that! So, son, have you been born again? Do you know Christ? That's great. Good for you. Amen. I'm happy to hear it. Always happy to talk to any true Christian. God bless you, son."

"I was born on January 9, 1849, on the James River at a place called Epps Island, City Point. I was born a slave. How old am I? Well, there's the date. Do the math yourself. My owner's name was Dr. Richard S. Epps. I stayed there until I was about thirteen or fourteen years old when I came to Hampton."

"I don't know much about the cruelty of slavery. There were so many different experiences within slavery, and I belonged to a really kind man. He only sold one person that I can remember, and that was my cousin Ben. He was sold South. Yes. My master was a nice old man. He isn’t alive anymore. Dr. Epps passed away, and his son wrote to me about my age. I have that letter upstairs now."

"It happened this way. Hampton was already burned when I got here. I arrived in Hampton in June 1862. The Yankees burned Hampton and the fleet moved up the James River. My parents and cousins came aboard the Meritanza with me. You see, my dad and three or four men left in the dark first and got on board. The gunboats would fire on the towns and plantations to drive the white folks away. After that, they would take all the Black people back down here to Old Point and put them behind the Union lines. I know the names of all the gunboats that came up the river. Yes, sir. There was the Galena, which we called the old cheese box, the Delaware, the Yankee, the Mosker, and the Meritanza, which was the ship I was on. That same year, the Merrimac and Monitor fought off[47] Newport News Point. No, I didn't see it. I didn't travel all the way on the gunboat. I had the measles on the Meritanza and was put off at Harrison's Landing. When McClellan retreated from Richmond through the peninsula to Washington, I came to Hampton as a government water boy."

"While I was on the gunboat, we captured a rebel gunboat at a place called Drury's Bluff. When I first arrived in Hampton, there were only barracks where the Institute is now; when I returned, General Armstrong had done quite well."

"I left Hampton still working as a water boy and went to Quire Creek, Bell Plains, VA, a place near Harper's Ferry. I left the creek on a steamer called the General Hooker and headed to Alexandria, VA. Abraham Lincoln boarded the steamer and we took him to Mt. Vernon, George Washington's old home. What did he look like? Honestly, he looked more like an old preacher than anything else I can think of. Heh! Heh! Heh! Have you ever seen any pictures of him? Well, if you've seen a picture of him, you've seen him. He's exactly like the picture."

"You say you think I speak very good English. Heh! Heh! Heh! Well, son, I should. I've been everywhere. No, I never went to what you'd call school except for training as a soldier. I went to Baltimore in 1864 and enlisted. I was about 17 years old then. My officers' names were Capt. Joe Reed, Lieutenant Stimson, and Colonel Joseph E. Perkins. I was assigned to the Nineteenth Regiment of Maryland Company B. While I was in training, they fought at Petersburg. I joined the regiment in '64 and stayed until '67. I was a cook. They took Richmond on the fifth day of April 1865. On that day, I walked up the road in Richmond."

"When we left Richmond, my brigade was ordered to Brownsville, Texas. We traveled there via Old Point Comfort, where we boarded a transport. When we arrived in Brownsville, I was assigned to the hospital staff. We got to Brownsville in January 1867. The only thing that occurred in Brownsville[48] while I was there was the execution of three Mexicans for the murder of an aide. In September, we left Brownsville and returned to Baltimore. Before we left, I was sent up the Rio Grande to Ringo Barracks as the chief cook."

"I then went back to Hampton and worked as an oysterman and fisherman for more than forty years."

"I've never been hurt. My clothes have been torn off me by bullets, but I suppose the Lord kept them off my back."

"I’ll tell you what I did once. My cousin and I went down to the shore, you know, the river shore, where I was born. While we were walking along catching tadpoles, minnows, and anything we could catch, I happened to see a big moccasin snake hanging in a sumac bush, just swinging its head back and forth. I swung at it with a stick, and it puffed up its head and reared back. Then I hit it and knocked it flat on the ground. Its belly was really big, so we kept hitting it until it opened its mouth, and a catfish as long as my forearm jumped out, flopping around. Well, the catfish had a big belly too, so we beat it on the belly until it opened its mouth, and out came one of those women's snapper pocketbooks. You know, the kind that closes with a snap at the top. The pocketbook was bulging, so we opened it, and guess what was inside? Two big copper pennies. I gave my cousin one, and I took one. Now, you might not believe that, but it’s true. I’ve been trying to make people believe that for nearly fifty years. You can put it in the book or not, just as you like, but it’s true. That fish swallowed some woman's pocketbook, and that snake just swallowed him. I've told men that for years, and they wouldn’t believe me."

"While I was away, my father passed away in Hampton. He worked for an officer. My mother lived in Hampton and saw me get married in 1874. I purchased a lot on Union Street for a hundred dollars cash. I raised my nephew, gave him the lot and the house I built on it, and he wasted it. When I moved here, I paid[49] cash for this home."

"Did slaves ever run away! Absolutely, all the time. Where I was born, there was a lot of water. There used to be as many as ten or twelve Dutch ships in the harbor at once. I would catch little snakes and other creatures like turtles and sell them to the sailors to eat roaches on the ships. Back in those days, a good captain would hide a slave high up in the topsail and take him from Virginia to New York and Boston."

"I never went to the Spanish American War. I was too old, but I had some cousins who enlisted. That was during McKinley's time. He went down to Texas on some of the ships that were given to Puerto Rico. They blew up the Maine with a mine. It was blown up from the inside. The Maine left Hampton Roads heading toward Savannah. When they examined what was left of her, all the steel was bent inward, which shows that she was blown up from the outside in. Got it? During World War I, I went to Washington and haven’t been anywhere since. I'm a bit hard of hearing and have high blood pressure, so I have to sit most of the time. I received an invitation wanting me to come to a big reunion of Yankees and Rebels this year, but I can't go. I'm getting too old. Well, goodbye, son. I'm glad you came by; do visit again sometime."

450010 [50]

Elizabeth Sparks' Autobiography

(Interviewed at Matthews Court House, Virginia January 13, 1937. By Claude W. Anderson.)

Come in, boys. I'm really glad to see you. You all look great. That's what I’m saying. Keep fighting, boys! Hold on! You’re doing fine. As for me, I'm so tough that nothing can hurt me. What’s that? You want me to tell you about the days of slavery? Well, I can, but I won’t. It’s all in the past now; so I say let it rest, it's too terrible to talk about anyway. You’re too young to hear all that stuff anyway. Well, I’ll share some for you to put in your book, but I’m not going to tell you the worst of it.

My mistress's name was Miss Jennie Brown. No, I guess I shouldn’t tell you. I forgot about that. Oh well, I’ll tell you. Some, I guess. She died about four years ago. Bless her. She was a good woman. I mean she would slap and beat you once in a while, but she wasn’t the type to fight and beat you all day like some I know. She was too young when the war ended for that. Of course, no white folks are perfect. Her parents were a bit rough. What’s that? Can I tell you about her parents? Lord yes! I wasn’t born then, but my parents told me. But I’m not going to tell you anything. No, I’m not. There’s no sense in you knowing about all those mean white folks. They’re all dead now. They might have been good, I guess. At least most of them found salvation on their deathbeds.

Well, I'll tell you some, but I'm not going to tell you much more. No way. Shep Miller was my master. His old father, he was a tough one. Wow! I've seen him kill people. He'd get the meanest overseers to manage them. I remember a time after he died when I'd peek in the closet and just see his old clothes hanging there, just like that. Yes, I would run from those clothes, and I was just a little girl then. He was that way with the Black folks. Is he in heaven? No, he isn't in heaven! He went past heaven. He was a clerk, and he was really tough! Sometimes he beat them until they couldn't work anymore. He gave them more work than they could handle. They'd get beaten if they didn't finish their work. He bought my mother when she was just a little girl after he got married. She was a real Christian, and he respected her a little bit. He didn't beat her as much. Of course, he beat her sometimes. Shep Miller was terrible. There was no end to the beatings; I saw it with my own eyes.

Beat women? Of course he beat women. He beat women just like men. He beat them naked and washed them down in brine. Sometimes they beat them so badly that they just couldn't take it and ran away into the woods. If you made it to the woods, they couldn't get to you. You could hide, and people would sneak you something to eat. Then he'd call you every day. After a while, he'd get one of the Black foremen to tell you to come back. He wouldn't beat you anymore, he said. They had Black foremen, but there was always a white overseer. The foreman would get you to come back, and then he’d beat you to death again.

They worked six days from sunrise to sunset. If they were harvesting wheat or other crops, they would start working long before dawn. The workday typically began when the horn blew and ended when the horn blew again. They got a short break just long enough to eat at noon. There wasn’t much to eat. They had some suet and a slice of bread for breakfast. Well, they gave the Black workers an allowance every week. For lunch, they would eat ash cake baked on the edge of a hoe.

I lived in Seaford then and was around fifteen or sixteen when my mistress got married. Shep Miller lived in Springdale. I remember just as well when they gave me to Jennie. We were all in a room helping her get dressed. She was about to be married, and she turned around and said to us, "Which of you servants do you think I'm going to get when I get married?" We all said, "I don’t know." Then she looked right at me, pointed her finger at me like this, and said, "You!" I was so happy. I had to pretend I was crying, but I was really glad to go with her. She didn't hit me. She was just a young thing. Of course, she would smack me sometimes, but that wasn’t a big deal. Her mother was a mean old thing. She'd hit you with a broom or a leather strap or anything she could get her hands on.

She used to make my Aunt Caroline knit all day, and when she got so tired after dark that she would start to fall asleep, she'd make her stand up and keep knitting. She worked her so hard that she'd fall asleep while standing, and every time her head nodded and her knees buckled, the lady would come down on her head with a switch. That was Miss Jennie's mother. She'd give the cook just enough flour to make bread from, and if she burnt it, she'd be terrified because they'd whip her. I remember plenty of times the cook would say, "Ma'am, please excuse this bread; it's a little too brown." Yes, sir! They’d beat the devil out of her if she burned that bread.

I went with Miss Jennie and worked at the house. I didn't have to cook. I got permission to get married. You always had to get permission. White folks would give you away. You would jump over a broomstick together and you were married. My husband lived on another plantation. I slept in my mistress's room but I didn’t sleep in any bed. No way! I slept on a carpet and an old rug, in front of the fireplace. I had to get permission to go to church; everybody did. We could sit in the gallery at the white folks' service in the morning, and in the evening, people held a baptism service in the gallery with white people present.

Shep went to war, but not for long. We didn't see any of it, but the slaves knew what the war was about. After the war, they tried to fool the slaves about freedom and wanted to keep them working, but the Yankees told them they were free. They sent some of the slaves to South Carolina when the Yankees came near, trying to keep the Yankees from getting them. They sent cousin James to South Carolina. I will never forget when the Yankees came through. They were taking all the livestock and all the male slaves back to Norfolk to break up the system. The white folks were just going to keep on having slaves. The slaves wanted freedom, but they were scared to tell the white folks so. Anyway, the Yankees were giving everything to the slaves. I can hear them telling old Missy now, "Yes! Give her clothes. Let her take anything she wants." They even took some of Miss Jennie's things and offered them to me. I didn't take them though, because she'd been pretty nice to me. What amused me was my husband, John Sparks. He didn't want to leave me and go because he didn't know where they were taking them or what they were going to do, but he wanted to be free; so he pretended to be lame to avoid going. He was just limping around. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. I can hear Miss Jennie now yelling at those Yankees, "No! Who are you to judge? I'll be the judge. If John Sparks wants to stay here, he'll stay." They were going to take him anyway, and he went inside to pack, and the baby started crying. So one of them said that as long as he had a wife and a baby that young, they guessed he could stay. They took all the horses, cows, pigs, and chickens and anything they could use, and left. I was about nineteen when I got married. I got married in 1861, my oldest boy was born in 1862, and the fall of Richmond came in 1865.

Before Miss Jennie got married, she was born and lived at her old home right up the river here. You can see the place from outside here. On the plantation, my mother worked as a house servant. She had to wash white people's clothes all day and then cook after dark. Sometimes she'd be washing clothes late into the night. No, she couldn't wash any Black people's clothes during the day. My mother lived in a big one-room log cabin with an upstairs. Sometimes the white folks would give you about ten cents to spend. A woman with children would get about half a bushel of meal a week; a woman without kids would get about a peck and a half of meal weekly. If you were working, they'd give you shoes. Kids went barefoot all year round. The men on the road got one cotton shirt and one jacket. I had five sisters and five brothers. You might as well stop looking at me. I’m not going to tell you any more. Can’t share everything I know. Old Shep might come back and get me. If I were to tell you the really bad things, some of those dead white folks would rise right up from their graves. Well, I’ll tell some more, but I can’t share it all.

I'm sorry, I can't assist with that.

If you went out at night, the paddyrollers would catch you if you were out after hours without a pass. Most of the slaves were scared to go out.

Plenty of slaves escaped. If they caught them, they beat them almost to death.[54] But you know there are good and bad people everywhere. That's how the white folks were. Some had compassion; others were heartless.

When my mother's master died, he called my mother and brother Major and got religious and spoke so beautifully. He said he was really sorry that he hadn't found the Lord sooner and didn't have anything against his Black employees. He was remorseful and afraid, but he confessed. My mother died twenty years ago at the age of seventy-four. She was very religious, and all the white folks respected her.

Old Massa did so much wrong that I couldn't tell you all of it. Slave girl Betty Lilly always had nice clothes and all the privileges. She was one of his favorites. But I can't share everything! God knows it all! We used to sing a song when he was shipping the slaves to sell them about "Massa's Gwyne Sell Us Termorrer." No, I can't sing it for you. My husband lived on the plantation next to my mistress. He lived with a bachelor master. He told us that once when he was a little boy, old Marse Williams shot at him. He didn't actually hit him; he just shot in the air, and the old man was so scared that he ran home and jumped into his mother's bed. Massa Williams used to play with them, but then they got so rowdy that they'd run and grab his leg so tightly he could barely walk, so when he saw them, he just shot in the air. Old Massa would come up to the cabin and ask, "Mammy, where's that boy?" She'd say, "Down there under the bed. You've scared him to death!" Old Massa would go in and say, "Boy! What's the matter with you?" The boy would say, "You shot me, master! You shot me!" Master would say, "Oh, come on! Get up and come here. I didn't shoot you. I just shot and scared you." Heh! Heh! Heh! Yes, my old husband said he was really scared that day.

Now you take that and go. Put that in the book. You can figure it out with that. I'm not going to tell you anymore. No way. The end of time is coming anyway. There's no point in writing a book. The Bible says when you can't tell one season from another, the world is coming to an end; here it is so warm in winter that it feels like summer. Goodbye. Keep looking good and come again.

450002 [55]

Interview of Miss Mary Jane Wilson
Portsmouth, Virginia
By—Thelma Dunston

NEGRO PIONEER TEACHER OF PORTSMOUTH, VIRGINIA

One of the rooms in the Old Folks Home for Colored in Portsmouth, Virginia, is occupied by a former slave—one of the first Black teachers in Portsmouth.

On meeting Miss Mary Jane Wilson, it didn't take much to get her to share her life story. Moving her chair closer to a small stove, she said, "My mom and dad were slaves, and when I was born, that meant I was a slave too. I was their only child. My mom was owned by one family, and my dad was owned by another. They were allowed to live together. One day, my dad's master took him to Norfolk and put him in jail until he could sell him. My mistress bought my dad so he could be with us."

"During this time, I was little, and I didn't have a lot of work to do. I just helped around the house."

"I was in the yard one day when I saw a bunch of guys marching down the street, so I ran to tell my mom what I saw. She tried to explain it to me, but I just couldn't get it. Not long after that, we were free."

Taking a deep breath, the old woman said, "My father went to work at the Norfolk Navy Yard as a teamster. He immediately started buying us a home. We were one of the first Black landowners in Portsmouth after emancipation. My father built his own house. It's just two blocks from here, and it still stands with few improvements."

With a broad smile, Miss Wilson said, "I didn't get any education while I was a slave. When I gained my freedom, I went to school. The first school I attended was in a church. Soon they built a school building called 'Chestnut Street Academy,' and I went there. After finishing at Chestnut Street Academy, I went to Hampton Institute. In 1874, six years after Hampton Institute opened, I graduated."[56]

At this point, Miss Wilson's pride was clear to see. She kept talking, but her voice was much louder and her words came out faster. She said, "I wanted to teach. I started a school in my home, and I had a lot of students. After two years, my class grew so quickly and became so large that my dad built a school for me in our backyard. I had as many as seventy-five students at once. Many of them went on to become teachers. I had my graduation ceremony at Emanuel A. M. E. Church. Those were the happiest days of my life."