Addie Vinson
From:
Georgia
PLANTATION LIFE AS VIEWED BY AN EX-SLAVE
ADDIE VINSON, Age 86
653 Dearing Street
Athens, Georgia
Written By:
Mrs. Sadie B. Hornsby
Athens, Georgia
Edited By:
Mrs. Sarah H. Hall
Athens, Georgia
and
John N. Booth
WPA Residency No. 6 & 7
August 23, 1938
Perched on an embankment high above the street level is the four-room
frame cottage where Addie Vinson lives with her daughter. The visitor
scrambled up the steep incline to the vine covered porch, and a rap on
the front door brought prompt response. "Who dat?" asked a very black
woman, who suddenly appeared in the hall. "What you want?... Yassum,
dis here's Addie, but dey calls me Mammy, 'cause I'se so old. I s'pects
I'se most nigh a hunnert and eight years old."
The old Negress is very short and stout. Her dark blue calico dress was
striped with lines of tiny polka dots, and had been lengthened by a band
of light blue outing flannel with a darker blue stripe, let in just
below the waist line. Her high-topped black shoes were worn over grey
cotton hose, and the stocking cap that partially concealed her white
hair was crowned by a panama hat that flopped down on all sides except
where the brim was fastened up across the front with two conspicuous
"safety-first" pins. Addie's eyesight is poor, and she claims it was
"plum ruint by de St. Vitus's dance," from which she has suffered for
many years. She readily agreed to tell of her early life, and her eyes
brightened as she began: "Lawsy, Missy! Is dat what you come 'ere for?
Oh, dem good old days! I was thinkin' 'bout Old Miss jus' t'other day.
"I was borned down in Oconee County on Marse Ike Vinson's place. Old
Miss was Marse Ike's mother. My Mammy and Pappy was Peter and 'Nerva
Vinson and dey was both field hands. Marse Ike buyed my Pappy from Marse
Sam Brightwell. Me and Bill, Willis, Maze, Harrison, Easter, and Sue was
all de chillun my Mammy and Pappy had. Dere warn't but four of us big
enough to wuk when Marse Ike married Miss Ann Hayes and dey tuk Mammy
wid 'em to dey new home in town. I stayed dar on de plantation and done
lots of little jobs lak waitin' on table; totin' Old Miss' breakfast to
her in her room evvy mornin', and I holped 'tend to de grainery. Dey
says now dat folkses is livin' in dat old grainery house.
"Dat was a be-yootiful place, wid woods, cricks, and fields spread out
most as fur as you could see. De slave quarters would'a reached from
here to Milledge Avenue. Us lived in a one-room log cabin what had a
chimbly made out of sticks and mud. Dem homemade beds what us slep' on
had big old high posties wid a great big knob on de top of each post.
Our matt'esses was coarse home-wove cloth stuffed wid field straw. You
know I laked dem matt'esses 'cause when de chinches got too bad you
could shake out dat straw and burn it, den scald de tick and fill it wid
fresh straw, and rest in peace again. You can't never git de chinches
out of dese cotton matt'esses us has to sleep on now days. Pillows? What
you talkin' 'bout? You know Niggers never had no pillows dem days,
leaseways us never had none. Us did have plenty of kivver dough. Folkses
was all time a-piecin' quilts and having quiltin's. All dat sort of wuk
was done at night.
"Pappy's Ma and Pa was Grandma Nancy and Grandpa Jacob. Day was field
hands, and dey b'longed to Marse Obe Jackson. Grandma Lucy and Grandpa
Toney Murrah was owned by Marse Billy Murrah. Marse Billy was a preacher
what sho could come down wid de gospel at church. Grandma Lucy was his
cook. Miss Sadie LeSeur got Grandma Lucy and tuk her to Columbus,
Georgy, and us never seed our grandma no more. Miss Sadie had been one
of de Vinson gals. She tuk our Aunt Haley 'long too to wait on her when
she started out for Europe, and 'fore dey got crost de water, Aunt
Haley, she died on de boat. Miss Sarah, she had a time keepin' dem
boatsmens from th'owing Aunt Haley to de sharks. She is buried in de old
country somewhar.
"Now Missy, how was Nigger chillun gwine to git holt of money in slavery
time? Old Marse, he give us plenty of somepin t'eat and all de clothes
us needed, but he sho kep' his money for his own self.
"Now 'bout dat somepin t'eat. Sho dat! Us had plenty of dem good old
collards, turnips, and dem sort of oatments, and dar was allus a good
chunk of meat to bile wid 'em. Marse Ike, he kep' plenty of evvy sort of
meat folkses knowed about dem days. He had his own beef cattle, lots of
sheep, and he killed more'n a hunnert hogs evvy year. Dey tells me dat
old bench dey used to lay de meat out on to cut it up is standin' dar
yet.
"'Possums? Lawd, dey was plentiful, and dat ain't all dere was on dat
plantation. One time a slave man was 'possum huntin' and, as he was
runnin' 'round in de bresh, he looked up and dar was a b'ar standin'
right up on his hind laigs grinnin' and ready to eat dat Nigger up. Oh,
good gracious, how dat Nigger did run! Dey fetched in 'possums in piles,
and dere was lots of rabbits, fixes, and coons. Dem coon, fox and
'possum hounds sho knowed deir business. Lawsy, I kin jus' smell one of
dem good old 'possums roastin' right now, atter all dese years. You
parbiled de 'possum fust, and den roasted him in a heavy iron skillet
what had a big old thick lid. Jus' 'fore de 'possum got done, you peeled
ash-roasted 'taters and put 'em all 'round da 'possum so as day would
soak up some of dat good old gravy, and would git good and brown. Is you
ever et any good old ashcake? You wropped de raw hoecake in cabbage or
collard leafs and roasted 'em in de ashes. When dey got done, you had
somepin fit for a king to eat.
"De kitchen was sot off a piece from de big house, and our white folkses
wouldn't eat deir supper 'fore time to light de lamps to save your life;
den I had to stan' 'hind Old Miss' cheer and fan her wid a
turkey-feather fan to keep de flies off. No matter how rich folkses was
dem days dere warn't no screens in de houses.
"I never will forgit pore old Aunt Mary; she was our cook, and she had
to be tapped evvy now and den 'cause she had de drapsy so bad. Aunt
Mary's old man was Uncle Harris, and I 'members how he used to go
fishin' at night. De udder slaves went fishin' too. Many's de time I'se
seed my Mammy come back from Barber's Crick wid a string of fish
draggin' from her shoulders down to de ground. Me, I laked milk more'n
anything else. You jus' oughta seed dat place at milkin' time. Dere was
a heap of cows a fightin', chillun hollerin', and sich a bedlam as you
can't think up. Dat old plantation was a grand place for chillun, in
summertime 'specially, 'cause dere was so many branches and cricks close
by what us chillun could hop in and cool off.
"Chillun didn't wear nothin' but cotton slips in summer, but de winter
clothes was good and warm. Under our heavy winter dresses us wore
quilted underskirts dat was sho nice and warm. Sunday clothes? Yes
Mar'm, us allus had nice clothes for Sunday. Dey made up our summertime
Sunday dresses out of a thin cloth called Sunday-parade. Dey was made
spenser fashion, wid ruffles 'round de neck and waist. Our ruffled
petticoats was all starched and ironed stiff and slick, and us jus'
knowed our long pantalettes, wid deir scalloped ruffles, was mighty
fine. Some of de 'omans would wuk fancy eyelets what dey punched in de
scallops wid locust thorns. Dem pantalettes was buttoned on to our
drawers. Our Sunday dresses for winter was made out of linsey-woolsey
cloth. White ladies wore hoopskirts wid deir dresses, and dey looked lak
fairy queens. Boys wore plain shirts in summer, but in winter dey had
warmer shirts and quilted pants. Dey would put two pair of britches
togedder and quilt 'em up so you couldn't tell what sort of cloth dey
was made out of. Dem pants was called suggins.
"All de Niggers went barfoots in summer, but in winter us all wore
brogans. Old Miss had a shoe shop in de cellar under de big house, and
when dem two white 'omans dat she hired to make our shoes come, us
knowed wintertime was nigh. Dem 'omans would stay 'til day had made up
shoes enough to last us all winter long, den dey would go on to de next
place what dey s'pected to make shoes.
"Marse Ike Vinson was sho good to his Niggers. He was de hanger, 'cept
he never hung nobody. Him and Miss Ann had six chillun. Dey was Miss
Lucy, Miss Myrt, Miss Sarah, Miss Nettie, Marse Charlie, and Marse Tom.
Marse Ike's ma, Old Miss, wouldn't move to town wid him and Miss Ann;
she stayed on in de big house on de plantation. To tell de truf I done
forgot Old Miss' name. De overseer and his wife was Mr. Edmond and Miss
Betsey, and dey moved up to de big house wid old Miss atter Marse Ike
and Miss Ann moved to town. Stiles Vinson was de carriage driver, and he
fotched Marse Ike out to de plantation evvy day. Lord! Gracious alive!
It would take a week to walk all over dat plantation. Dere was more'n a
thousand acres in it and, countin' all de chillun, dere was mighty nigh
a hunnert slaves.
"Long 'fore day, dat overseer blowed a bugle to wake up de Niggers. You
could hear it far as High Shoals, and us lived dis side of Watkinsville.
Heaps of folkses all over dat part of de country got up by dat old
bugle. I will never forgit one time when de overseer said to us chillun,
'You fellows go to do field and fetch some corn tops.' Mandy said: 'He
ain't talkin' to us 'cause us ain't fellows and I ain't gwine.' Bless
your sweet life, I runned and got dem corn tops, 'cause I didn't want no
beatin'. Dem udder 'chillun got deir footses most cut off wid dem
switches whan dat overseer got to wuk to sho 'em dey had to obey him.
Dat overseer sho did wuk de Niggers hard; he driv' 'em all de time. Dey
had to go to de field long 'fore sunup, and it was way atter sundown
'fore dey could stop dat field wuk. Den dey had to hustle to finish deir
night wuk in time for supper, or go to bed widout it.
[HW sidenote: Beating]
"You know dey whupped Niggers den. Atter dey had done wukked hard in de
fields all day long, de beatin' started up, and he allus had somepin in
mind to beat 'em about. When dey beat my Aunt Sallie she would fight
back, and once when Uncle Randall said somepin he hadn't oughta, dat
overseer beat him so bad he couldn't wuk for a week. He had to be grez
all over evvy day wid hoalin' ointment for a long time 'fore dem gashes
got well.
"Rita and Retta was de Nigger 'omans what put pizen in some collards
what dey give Aunt Vira and her baby to eat. She had been laughin' at a
man 'cause his coattail was a-flappin' so funny whilst he was dancin',
and dem two Jezebels thought she was makin' fun of dem. At de graveyard,
'fore dey buried her, dey cut her open and found her heart was all
decayed. De overseer driv dem 'omans clear off de plantation, and
Marster, he was mighty mad. He said he had done lost 'bout $2,000. If he
had kotched dem 'omans he woulda hung 'em, cause he was de hanger. In
'bout two weeks dat overseer left dar, and Old Marse had to git him
anudder man to take his place.
"Sho! Dere was a jail for slaves and a hangin' place right in front of
de jail, but none of Old Marster's Niggers warn't never put in no
jailhouse. Oh God! Yes, dey sold slaves. My own granddaddy was made to
git up on dat block, and dey sold him. One time I seed Old Marse buy
four boys." At this point the narrative ceased when Addie suddenly
remembered that she must stop to get supper for the daughter, who would
soon be returning from work.
The visitor called early in the morning of the following day, and found
Addie bent over her washtubs in the back yard. "Have dat cheer," was the
greeting as the old Negress lifted a dripping hand to point out a chair
under the spreading branches of a huge oak tree, "You knows you don't
want to hear no more 'bout dat old stuff," she said, "and anyhow, is you
gittin' paid for doin' dis?" When the visitor admitted that these
interviews were part of her salaried work, Addie quickly asked: "What is
you gwine to give me?"
When the last piece of wash had been hung on the line and Addie had
turned a large lard can upside down for a stool, she settled down and
began to talk freely.
"No Ma'm, dey didn't low Niggers to larn how to read and write. I had to
go wid de white chillun to deir school on Hog Mountain road evvy day to
wait on 'em. I toted water for 'em kep' de fire goin', and done all
sorts of little jobs lak dat. Miss Martha, de overseer's daughter, tried
to larn me to read and write, but I wouldn't take it in.
"No Ma'm dere warn't no churches for Niggers in slavery time, so slaves
had to go to deir white folkses churches. Us went to church at Betty
Berry (Bethabara) and Mars Hill. When time come for de sermon to de
Niggers, sometimes de white folkses would leave and den again dey would
stay, but dat overseer, he was dar all de time. Old man Isaac Vandiver,
a Nigger preacher what couldn't read a word in de Bible, would git up in
dat pulpit and talk from his heart. You know dere's heaps of folkses
what's got dat sort of 'ligion--it's deep in deir hearts. De Reverend
Freeman was de white folkses' preacher. I laked him best, for what he
said allus sounded good to me.
"At funerals us used to sing Hark From De Tomb A Doleful Sound. I
never went to no funerals, but Old Marster's and Aunt Nira's, 'fore de
end of de war.
"When Old Marster went off to de war, he had all his slaves go to de
musterin' ground to see him leave. He was captain of his company from
Oconee County, and 'fore he left he had de mens in dat company bury deir
silver and gold, deir watches, rings, and jus' anything dey wanted to
keep, on Hog Mountain. Ha lef' a guard to watch de hidin' place so as
dey would have somepin when dey come back home, den dey marched back to
de musterin' ground dat was twixt de Hopkins' plantation and Old
Marster's place. Uncle Solomon went along to de war to tote Marster's
gun, cook for him, and sich lak. It warn't long 'fore old Marse was kilt
in dat war, and Uncle Solomon fetches him back in a coffin. All de
slaves dat went to de buryin' jus' trembled when guns was fired over Old
Marster's grave. Dat was done to show dat Old Marster had been a
powerful high-up man in de army.
"Good Gracious! Dere didn't nary a Nigger go off from our place to de
North, 'cause us was skeered of dem Yankees. Dere was a white
slave-trader named McRaleigh what used to come to Old Marster's
plantation to buy up Niggers to take 'em to de Mississippi bottoms. When
us seed him comin' us lit out for de woods. He got Aunt Rachel; you
could hear her hollerin' a mile down de road.
"Oh! Good Lord! Dem patterollers was awful. Folkses what dey cotched
widout no paper, dey jus' plum wore out. Old man John was de fiddler on
our place, and when de patterollers cotched him dey beat him up de wust
of all, 'cause him and his fiddle was all de time drawin' Niggers out to
do dances.
"If Old Marster wanted to send a massage he sont Uncle Randall on a mule
named Jim. Sometimes dat old mule tuk a notion he didn't want to go; den
he wouldn't budge. I ricollects one time dey tuk a bundle of fodder and
tied it to Old Jim's tail, but still he wouldn't move. Old Marster kep'
a special man to fetch and carry mail for de plantation in a road cyart,
and nobody warn't 'lowed to go nigh dat cyart.
"When slaves got in from de fields at night dey cooked and et deir
supper and went to bed. Dey had done been wukin' since sunup. When dere
warn't so much to do in de fields, sometimes Old Marster let his Niggers
lay off from wuk atter dinner on Saddays. If de chinches was most eatin'
de Niggers up, now and den de 'omans was 'lowed to stay to de house to
scald evvything and clear 'em out, but de menfolkses had to go on to de
field. On Sadday nights de 'omans patched, washed, and cut off peaches
and apples to dry in fruit season. In de daytime dey had to cut off and
dry fruit for Old Miss. When slaves got smart wid deir white folkses,
deir Marsters would have 'em beat, and dat was de end of de matter. Dat
was a heap better'n dey does now days, 'cause if a Nigger gits out of
place dey puts him on de chaingang. [TR: 'Whipping' written in margin.]
"Sunday was a day off for all de slaves on our plantation. Cause, de
mens had to look atter de stock in de lot right back of de cabins. De
'omans cooked all day for de next week. If dey tuk a notion to go to
church, mules was hitched to wagons made lak dippers, and dey jigged off
down de road. Us had four days holiday for Christmas. Old Miss give us
lots of good things to eat dem four days; dere was cake, fresh meat, and
all kinds of dried fruit what had been done stored away. All de Niggers
tuk dat time to rest but my Mammy. She tuk me and went 'round to de
white folkses' houses to wash and weave. Dey said I was a right smart,
peart little gal, and white folkses used to try to hire me from Old
Miss. When dey axed her for me, Old Miss allus told 'em: 'You don't want
to hire dat gal; she ain't no 'count.' She wouldn't let nobody hire her
Niggers, 'cept Mammy, 'cause she knowed Mammy warn't gwine to leave her
nohow. On New Year's Day, if dere warn't too much snow on de ground, de
Niggers burnt brush and cleared new ground.
"When Aunt Patience led de singin' at cornshuckin's, de shucks sho'ly
did fly. Atter de corn was shucked, dey fed us lots of good things and
give us plenty of liquor. De way cotton pickin' was managed was dis:
evvybody dat picked a thousand pounds of cotton in a week's time was
'lowed a day off. Mammy picked her thousand pounds evvy week.
"Dances? Now you's talkin' 'bout somepin' sho' 'nough. Old John, de
fiddler man, was right dere on our plantation. Niggers dat had done
danced half de night would be so sleepy when de bugle sounded dey
wouldn't have time to cook breakfast. Den 'bout de middle of de mawnin'
dey would complain 'bout bein' so weak and hongry dat de overseer would
fetch 'em in and have 'em fed. He let 'em rest 'bout a hour and a half;
den he marched 'em back to de field and wuked 'em 'til slap black dark.
Aunt Sook was called de lead wench. If de moon warn't out, she put a
white cloth 'round her shoulders and led 'em on.
"Didn't none of Old Marsters chillun marry in slavery time, but Old
Miss, she let us see a Nigger gal named Frances Hester git married. When
I sot down to dat weddin' supper I flung de chicken bones over my
shoulder, 'cause I didn't know no better. I don't 'member what gals
played when I was little, but boys played ball all day long if dey was
'lowed to. One boy, named Sam, played and run so hard he tuk his bed
Monday and never got up no more.
"I heared tell of Raw Haid and Bloody Bones. Old folkses would skeer us
most nigh to death tellin' us he was comin'. Mankind! Us made for de
house den. Missy, please mam, don't ax me 'bout dem ha'nts. I sees 'em
all de time. Atter she had done died out, Old Miss used to come back all
de time. She didn't lak it 'cause day wropped her in a windin' sheet and
buried her by de doorsteps, but I reckon dey done fixed her by now,
'cause she don't come back no more. Dere's a house in Athens, called de
Bell House, dat nobody kin live in, 'cause a man run his wife from home
and atter she died, she come back and ha'nted dat house.
"Lawd have mercy! Look here, don't talk lak dat. I ain't told you before
but part o' dis here yard is conjured. A man comes here early evvy
mornin' and dresses dis yard down wid conjuration. Soon as I sot down
here to talk to you, a pain started in my laigs, and it is done gone all
over me now. I started to leave you and go in de house. Come on. Let's
leave dis yard right now. Hurry!" On reaching the kitchen Addie hastily
grasped the pepper box and shook its contents over each shoulder and on
her head, saying: "Anything hot lak dis will sho drive dis spell away.
De reason I shakes lak I does, one day I was in de yard and somepin
cotch me. It helt fast to my footses, den I started to shake all over,
and I been shakin' ever since. A white 'oman gimme some white soap, and
evvy mornin' I washes myself good wid dat soap 'fore I puts on my
clothes."
Leaving the kitchen, Addie entered the front room which serves as a
bedroom. "Lawdy, Missy!" she exclaimed, "Does you smell dat funny scent?
Oh, Good Lawd! Jus' look at dem white powders on my doorstep! Let me git
some hot water and wash 'em out quick! Now Missy, see how dese Niggers
'round here is allus up to deir meanness? Dere's a man in de udder room
bilin' his pizen right now. I has to keep a eye on him all de time or
dis here old Nigger would be in her grave. I has to keep somepin hot all
de time to keep off dem conjure spells. I got three pids of pepper most
ready to pick, and I'se gwine to tie 'em 'round my neck, den dese here
spells folkses is all de time tryin' to put on me won't do me no harm."
Addie now lowered her voice to a stage whisper. "I found a folded up
piece of white paper under our back doorstep dis very mornin'. Bless
your life, I got a stick from de kitchen quick and poked it in a crack
in de steps and got it out 'fore I put my foots down on dem steps. I sho
did."
Here Addie reverted to her story of the plantation. "Old Marster was
mighty good to his Niggers," she said. When any of 'em got sick Old Miss
sont to town for him, and he allus come right out and fetched a doctor.
Old Miss done her very best for Pappy when he was tuk sick, but he died
out jus' de same. Pappy used to drive a oxcart and, when he was bad off
sick and out of his haid, he hollered out: 'Scotch dat wheel! Scotch dat
wheel!' In his mind, he was deep in de bad place den, and didn't know
how to pray. Old Miss, she would say: 'Pray, Pete, Pray.' Old Miss made
a heap of teas from diff'unt things lak pennyroyal, algaroba wood,
sassafras, flat tobacco, and mullein. Us wore rabbits foots, little bags
of asfiddy (asafetida), and garlic tabs 'round our necks to keep off
mis'ries. I wishes I had a garlic tab to wear 'round my neck now.
"One day Old Miss called us togedder and told us dat us was free as jay
birds. De Niggers started hollerin': 'Thank de Lawd, us is free as de
jay birds.' 'Bout dat time a white man come along and told dem Niggers
if he heared 'em say dat again he would kill de last one of 'em. Old
Miss axed us to stay on wid her and dar us stayed for 'bout three years.
It paid us to stay dere 'stead of runnin' off lak some udder Niggars dat
played de fool done. T'warn't long 'fore dem Yankees come 'long, and us
hustled off to town to see what dey looked lak. I never seed so many
mens at one time in my life before. When us got back to de plantation de
overseer told us not to drink no water out of de well, 'cause somebody
had done put a peck of pizen in dar. He flung a whole bushel of salt in
de well to help git rid of de pizen.
"Atter de end of de war, I went to wuk as a plow-hand. I sho did keep
out of de way of dem Ku Kluxers. Folkses would see 'em comin' and holler
out: 'De Ku Kluxers is ridin' tonight. Keep out of deir way, or dey will
sho kill you.' Dem what was skeered of bein' cotched and beat up, done
deir best to stay out of sight.
"It was a long time atter de war was done over 'fore schools for Niggers
was sot up, and den when Nigger chillun did git to go to school dey
warn't 'lowed to use de old blue-back spellin' book 'cause white folkses
said it larn't 'em too much.
"It was two or three years atter de war 'fore any of de Niggers could
save up enough money to start buyin' land, and den, if dey didn't watch
dey steps mighty keerful, de white folkses would find a way to git dat
land back from de Niggers.
"What! Is I got to tell you 'bout dat old Nigger I got married up wid? I
don't want to talk 'bout dat low down, no 'count devil. Anyhow, I
married Ed Griffeth and, sho dat, I had a weddin'. My weddin' dress was
jus' de purtiest thing; it was made out of parade cloth, and it had a
full skirt wid ruffles from de knees to de hem. De waist fitted tight
and it was cut lowneck wid three ruffles 'round de shoulder. Dem puff
sleeves was full from de elbow to de hand. All dem ruffles was aidged
wid lace and, 'round my waist I wore a wide pink sash. De underskirt was
trimmed wid lace, and dere was lace on de bottom of de drawers laigs.
Dat was sho one purty outfit dat I wore to marry dat no 'count man in. I
had bought dat dress from my young Mist'ess.
"Us had seven chillun and ten grandchillun. Most of 'em is livin' off up
in Detroit. If Ed ain't daid by now he ought to be; he was a good match
for de devil.
"I reckon Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Jeff Davis done right as fur as dey knowed
how and could. If dem northern folkses hadn't fotched us here, us sho
wouldn't never have been here in de fust place. Den dey hauled off and
said de South was mean to us Niggers and sot us free, but I don't know
no diffunce. De North sho let us be atter dat war, and some of de old
Niggers is still mad 'cause dey is free and ain't got no Marster to feed
'em and give 'em good warm clothes no more.
"Oh! You gits happy when you jines up wid de church. I sho don't want to
go to de bad place. Dere ain't but two places to go to, Heaven and hell,
and I'se tryin' to head for Heaven. Folkses says dat when Old Dives done
so bad he had to go to de bad place, a dog was sot at his heels for to
keep him in dar. No Mam, if it's de Good Lawd's will to let me git to
Heaven, I is sho gwine to keep out of hell, if I kin.
"Goodbye, Missy. Next time you comes fetch me a garlic tab to keep de
conjure spells 'way from me," was Addie's parting request.
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Emma Virgel
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John F Van Hook
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