Charley Barber
From:
South Carolina
Project #1655
W. W. Dixon
Winnsboro, S. C.
CHARLEY BARBER
EX-SLAVE 81 YEARS OLD.
Charley Barber lives in a shanty kind of house, situated on a plot of
ground containing two acres all his own. It is a mile and a half
southeast of Winnsboro, S. C. He lives with an anaemic daughter, Maggie,
whose chief interests are a number of cats, about the premises, and a
brindled, crumple-horned cow that she ties out to graze every morning
and milks at evening.
Charley is squat of figure, short neck, popeyed, and has white hair. He
tills the two acres and produces garden truck that he finds a sale for
among the employees of the Winnsboro mills, just across the railroad
from his home. He likes to talk, and pricks up his ears,(so to speak),
whenever anything is related as having occurred in the past. He will
importune those present to hear his version of the event unusual.
"Well sah, dis is a pleasure to have you call 'pon me, howsomever it be
unexpected dis mornin'. Shoo! (driving the chickens out of the house)
Shoo! Git out of here and go scratch a livin' for them chickens, dat's
followin' you yet, and you won't wean and git to layin' again. Fust
thing you know you'll be spoilin' de floor, when us is got company dis
very minute. Scat! Maggie; git them cats out de chairs long 'nough for
Mr. Wood to set in one whilst he's come to see me dis mornin'.
"And dat's it? You wants me to talk over de days dat am gone? How dis
come 'bout and how dat come 'bout, from de day I was born, to dis very
hour? Let's light, up our smokestacks befo' us begin. Maybe you wants a
drink of, water. Maggie, fetch de water here!
"How old you think I is, sixty-five? My goodness! Do you hear dat
Maggie? (Rubbing his hands; his eyes shining with pleasure) Take another
look and make another guess. Seventy-five? You is growin' warm but
you'll have to come again!
"Bless your soul Marse Wood, you know what old Mudder Shifton say? She
'low dat: 'In de year 1881, de world to an end will surely come'. I was
twenty-five years old when all de niggers and most of de white folks was
believin' dat old lady and lookin' for de world to come to an end in
1881. Dat was de year dat I jined de church, 'cause I wanted to make
sure dat if de end did come, I'd be caught up in dat rapture dat de
white Methodist preacher was preachin' 'bout and explainin' to my
marster and mistress at deir house on de piazza dat year.
"I is eighty-one years old. I was born up on de Wateree River, close to
Great Falls. My marster was Ozmond Barber. My mistress was name Miss
Elizabeth; her de wife of Marse Ozmond. My pappy was name Jacob. My
mammy went by de name of Jemima. They both come from Africa where they
was born. They was 'ticed on a ship, fetch 'cross de ocean to Virginny,
fetch to Winnsboro by a slave drover, and sold to my marster's father.
Dat what they tell me. When they was sailin' over, dere was five or six
hundred others all together down under de first deck of de ship, where
they was locked in. They never did talk lak de other slaves, could just'
say a few words, use deir hands, and make signs. They want deir
collards, turnips, and deir 'tators, raw. They lak sweet milk so much
they steal it.
"Pappy care-nothin' 'bout clothes and wouldn't wear shoes in de winter
time or any time. It was 'ginst de law to bring them over here when they
did, I learn since. But what is de law now and what was de law then,
when bright shiny money was in sight? Money make de automobile go. Money
make de train go. Money make de mare go, and at dat time I 'spect money
make de ships go. Yes sir, they, my pappy and mammy, was just smuggled
in dis part of de world, I bet you!
"War come on, my marster went out as a captain of de Horse Marines. A
tune was much sung by de white folks on de place and took wid de
niggers. It went lak dis:
'I'm Captain Jenks of de Horse Marines
I feed my horse on corn and beans.
Oh! I'm Captain Jenks of de Horse Marines
And captain in de army!'"
"When de Yankees come they seem to have special vengeance for my white
folks. They took everything they could carry off and burnt everything
they couldn't carry off.
"Mistress and de chillun have to go to Chester to git a place to sleep
and eat, wid kinfolks. De niggers just lay 'round de place 'til master
rode in, after de war, on a horse; him have money and friends and git
things goin' agin. I stay on dere 'til '76. Then I come to Winnsboro and
git a job as section hand laborer on de railroad. Out of de fust
money,--(I git paid off de pay train then; company run a special pay
train out of Columbia to Charlotte. They stop at every station and pay
de hands off at de rear end of de train in cash). Well, as I was a
sayin': Out de fust money, I buys me a red shirt and dat November I
votes and de fust vote I put in de box was for Governor Wade Hampton.
Dat was de fust big thing I done.
"De nex' big thing I done was fall in love wid Mary Wylie. Dat come
'bout on de second pay day. De other nigger gals say her marry me for my
money but I never have believed it. White ladies do dat 'kalkilating'
trick sometime but you take a blue-gum nigger gal, all wool on de top of
her head and lak to dance and jig wid her foots, to pattin' and fiddle
music, her ain't gonna have money in de back of her head when her pick
out a man to marry. Her gonna want a man wid muscles on his arms and
back and I had them. Usin' dat pick and shovel on de railroad just give
me what it took to git Mary. Us had ten chillun. Some dead, some marry
and leave. My wife die year befo' last. Maggie is puny, as you see, and
us gits 'long wid de goodness of de Lord and de white folks.
"I b'longs to de St. John Methodist Church in Middlesix, part of
Winnsboro. They was havin' a rival (revival) meetin' de night of de
earthquake, last day of August, in 1886. Folks had hardly got over de
scare of 1881, 'bout de world comin' to an end. It was on Tuesday night,
if I don't disremember, 'bout 9 o'clock. De preacher was prayin', just
after de fust sermon, but him never got to de amen part of dat prayer.
Dere come a noise or rumblin', lak far off thunder, seem lak it come
from de northwest, then de church begin to rock lak a baby's cradle.
Dere was great excitement. Old Aunt Melvina holler: 'De world comin' to
de end'. De preacher say: 'Oh, Lordy', and run out of de pulpit.
Everbody run out de church in de moonlight. When de second quake come,
'bout a minute after de fust, somebody started up de cry: 'De devil
under de church! De devil under de church! De devil gwine to take de
church on his back and run away wid de church!' People never stop
runnin' 'til they got to de court house in town. Dere they 'clare de
devil done take St. John's Church on his back and fly away to hell wid
it. Marse Henry Galliard make a speech and tell them what it was and beg
them to go home. Dat Mr. Skinner, de telegraph man at de depot, say de
main part of it was way down 'bout Charleston, too far away for anybody
to git hurt here, 'less a brick from a chimney fall on somebody's head.
De niggers mostly believes what a fine man, lak Marse Henry, tell them.
De crowd git quiet. Some of them go home but many of them, down in de
low part of town, set on de railroad track in de moonlight, all night. I
was mighty sleepy de nex' mornin' but I work on de railroad track just
de same. Dat night folks come back to St. John's Church, find it still
dere, and such a outpourin' of de spirit was had as never was had befo'
or since.
"Just think! Dat has been fifty-one years ago. Them was de glorious
horse and buggy days. Dere was no air-ships, no autos and no radios.
White folks had horses to drive. Niggers had mules to ride to a baseball
game, to see white folks run lak de patarollers (patrollers) was after
them and they holler lak de world was on fire."
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Ed Barber
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William Ballard
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