Anson Harp
From:
South Carolina
Project #1655
Stiles M. Scruggs
Columbia, S.C.
ANSON HARP
EX-SLAVE 87 YEARS OLD.
Anson Harp, eighty-seven years old, lives out in the country on Route
#3. He still works on the few acres he owns, raising vegetables for
himself and a few baskets to sell. He is a gray-haired, medium sized man
and his geniality is frequently noticed by white and Negro friends who
know him.
"I was born in Mississippi in 1850, on a big plantation dat b'long to
Master Tom Harp. I can see dat big rushin' river now, 'ceptin' the
mosquitoes. My daddy and mammy b'long to Master Harp and we live in a
cabin 'bout a mile from the big house of my master's home.
"One day when the slaves was choppin' cotton, a strange white man come
and watch us, and in a day or two me and three other chillun was called
in the yard of the big house and told we goin' to git to go wid the
stranger. My daddy and mammy and the other chillun's daddy and mammy all
cry when we was put in a big wagon and carried 'way to somewhere.
"We gits plenty of rations on the way and when we gits to Aiken one
mornin', we was told we was close to home and soon we was on the big
plantation of Master James Henry Hammond. We find other boys there, too.
We go to the fields and chop cotton, after we rest up. No sah, we wasn't
flogged often. One time the grown men and women was choppin' two rows to
our one, and a straw-boss slave twit us and call us lazy. The white
overseer, who was riding by, heard him. He shake his whip at the
straw-boss and tell him: 'The young niggers not yet 'spected to make a
half hand and you do pretty well to 'tend to your own knittin'.
"I been there for a pretty long time befo' I really talks to my great
white master, James Henry Hammond. He not at home much, and when he was
home, many big white men wid him 'most every day.
"One Saturday, we always had a half holiday on Saturday, me and my
friends 'bout the same age, was playin' a game on a big lot behind the
barn. We quit yellin' and playin' when we see Master Hammond and three
or four white men at the barn. They was lookin' at and talkin' 'bout
Master Hammond's big black stallion. Master Hammond lead him out of the
stall and he stand on his hind feet.
"'Well Senator,' says one big man to Master Hammond, 'I has come a long
ways to see this famous hoss. It's no wonder he was s'lected as a model
for the war hoss of General Jackson. I seen his statue in Washington and
Nashville.'
"'And I see him in New Orleans', says another big man, in a fine black
slick suit.
"'I 'clare, Governor', says the other big man, also dressed just lak he
goin' to church, 'this grand stallion look today well as he did when I
use him for my model'.
"Then they all pat the hoss's nose and stroke him down his mane, and the
big buckra hoss steps, just lak the fine gentlemen he is, back to his
stall, while all the big men wave him goodbye!
"No, I not take the name of Hammond after we free, 'cause too many of
his slaves do. I kept the name of my old master and the one my daddy and
mammy had. No, I never hear of them in Mississippi. Lak as not they was
sold and taken far away, lak me.
"I was eleven in 1861, when the war start, 'cordin' to my count. Master
Hammond was hardly ever at home no more. He, too, was angry at President
Lincoln and I love my master, so I used to wonder what sort of man the
President was. My Master Hammond sure did honor President Davis. I hear
him say once, dat President Davis was a Chesterfield and dat the
Lincoln fellow is coarse and heartless.
"In 1862 I was twelve years old, big for my age, and I do more than half
as much work as any grown slave. At dat time we see many free niggers,
and nearly all of them sorry lookin'. They eat off of slave families,
when they could git it.
"I come to Columbia in 1865, after all the niggers everywhere am set
free. I work for white folks 'bout town and when the Freedman's aid was
set up, I goes 'long wid some new found friends to the aid headquarters,
and was the last one to be heard. The others got bundles of food and I
see one git a piece of money, too. When I got to the white man in
charge, he eye me and zay: 'What damn rebel did you slave for?' I forgot
'bout what I am there for and I say: 'I never slave for no damn rebel. I
work for Governor Hammond and he is the finest buckra that is.'
"Then the aid man say: 'Dat damn rebel Hammond and all lak him yet
unhung, should be, and you wid him. Go let him feed and clothe you! When
you come here again maybe you have 'nough sense to ask for favors
decent.' I so mad, I hardly 'member just what happen, 'ceptin' I come
'way just lak I go, empty handed.
"I am now an old man, as you see, but I am happy to know dat the white
folks has always been ready to help me make a livin'. I now own a patch
of ground, where I makes a livin' on the shares. My boy, a son by my
second wife, works it, and he takes care of me now. If I had been as
big, and knowed as much at the start of the war as I did at the end of
it, I would surely have gone to the front wid my white master."
Next:
Rev Thomas Harper
Previous:
Susan Hamilton
Informational
