David Goodman Gullins
From:
Georgia Narratives, Part 2
[HW: David Goodman Gullins]
SUBJECT REMINISCENCES OF SLAVERY DAYS
DISTRICT NO. 1 W.P.A.
EDITOR AND RESEARCH RUTH A. CHITTY
SUPERVISOR J. E. JAFFEE
October 16, 1936.
REMINISCENCES OF SLAVERY DAYS
It was a beautiful brisk morning in October when I turned into main
street to call on one of the most unique and interesting characters that
we have among our colored citizens.
Upon arriving at the house where Uncle Dave lives, I made my way through
a side gate and the first thing that greeted me in his back yard was a
sign, "No Truspassing." I called to a tenant who rents his home to
inquire where I might find Uncle Dave. We looked about the premises, and
called him, but no response. I was just about to leave in despair, when
the colored girl said "maybe he can be found inside," whereupon we
called him forth.
He greeted me with a deep peal of laughter, saying "now you done caught
me sho, Mistiss!" I told him the story of my mission, and, after making
various excuses he finally, with a studied reluctance, consented to talk
to me a while. He called the colored girl and asked her to bring a chair
into the yard, which he placed near his favorite out-door lounging
place, and invited me to sit down. Then, with a hearty laugh he said,
"now Miss, just what is it you want me to tell you?"
"I want you to tell me all about yourself back in slavery days and
since, Uncle Dave."
"Miss, if I tell you all I know, then you will know as much about me as
I know." Again he burst into laughter, and constrained by a high sense
of propriety, but with perfect ease, he began to relate to me in a
manner and style all his own, some of the facts connected with his
life.
"Miss, my name is David Goodman Gullins. I was born in 1854 on the 27th
day of December, in Putnam County, about 3-1/2 miles from Eatonton, on
the Greensboro Road. I was born in slavery, my father and mother being
owned by Mr. J. W. Mappin. Marse Mappin was not a large slave holder,
since he only had about thirty-five slaves, but he was what we call a
'coming man'. I do not remember how much land he owned, but nothing like
some of the very wealthy land and slave owners. My owner was a
comparatively young man, say middle aged, weighing about 190 pounds,
with a fairly good education and withall a first rate man. My earliest
recollection of him was his perfectly bald head. It looked like a peeled
onion. He married a widow, Mrs. Elizabeth Lawson, who had two sons; one
who was Judge Thomas G. Lawson of the Ocmulgee Circuit, and Zurst
Lawson, who was killed in the war. My owners were very good to their
slaves.
"My father's name was John Mappin. He of course went by the name of the
owner. My mother's name was Catharine. She was bought from an owner by
the name of Milline by my master, and she became Catharine Mappin. I
know nothing of their lives, their childhood, their struggles,
hardships, etc., and where they came from. There were eleven boys and
one girl in our family, I being the third oldest boy born. Three
brothers born after me died in infancy. My mother raised only five of
her sons to manhood, and my sister is still living in Eatonton, Ga. She
is Gracie Roby. I have one brother still living, W. R. Gullins, a
minister. He is somewhere in North Carolina. When this brother was born,
Mistress had a lot of company, and all the ladies wanted to name the
new baby for their best friends. So the baby was named Willie Richard
Edgar Mappin for the best friends of the young ladies. He later dropped
the name Edgar and goes by the name of Willie Richard Gullins.
"Uncle David you say your owners name was Mappin, why is your name
Gullins?"
"Well, Miss, I'll have to digress a little to give you the history of
the name. Every effect has a cause you know, and after I got old enough
to reason things out, I wondered too why my name was Gullins, so I did
some investigating and the story goes like this.
"When I was a very small boy back before the war, a circus came to town.
I remember the clown, whose name was Gullins. My father, John Mappin,
was so much like the clown in his ways and sayings, that afterwards
everyone started calling him Gullins. This soon became a sort of
nickname. Some years after when slaves were freed, they were all
registered, most of them taking the family name of their owners. When
time came for my father to register, the Registrar says, "John, what
name are you going to register under, Mappin or Gullins? Everyone calls
you Gullins, and they will always call you Gullins. My father, after
thinking for a moment said, "just put down Gullins." By this time I was
beginning to think that Uncle Dave was pretty much of a clown himself.
"Now Uncle Dave tell me your early impressions of your mother and
father."
"Miss, my mother was one of the best women God ever made. Back in
slavery time I recall the trundle bed that we children slept on. In the
day it was pushed under the big bed, and at night it was pulled out for
us to sleep on. All through cold, bitter winter nights, I remember my
mother getting up often to see about us and to keep the cover tucked in.
She thought us sound asleep, and I pretended I was asleep while
listening to her prayers. She would bend down over the bed and
stretching her arms so as to take us all in, she prayed with all her
soul to God to help her bring up her children right. Don't think now
that she let God do it all; she helped God, bless your life, by keeping
a switch right at hand."
"Uncle Dave you didn't have to be chastised, did you?"
"I got two or three whippings every day. You see my mother didn't let
God do it all. You know if you spare the rod you spoil the child, and
that switch stimulated, regulated, persuaded and strengthened my memory,
and went a long way toward making me do the things my mother told me to
do. Hurrah for my mother! God bless her memory!"
"What about your father, Uncle Dave?"
"My father was a good man; he backed my mother in her efforts to bring
us up right. He told me many a time, 'Boy, you need two or three
killings every day!'"
"Uncle Dave why were you so obstreperous?"
"Miss, you see I was the baby in the family a long time, as three
brothers born after me died in infancy. I was petted and spoiled, and
later on they had to whip it out of me.
"Of course the slavery question was fast drawing to its climax when I
was born. Already war clouds seemed to cast a shadow. While freedom was
not had in Georgia until 1865, I was hardly old enough to remember very
much about the early customs of slavery in pre-war days. We had
comfortable quarters in which to live. Our houses were built in long
rows, house after house. My father was carriage driver and foreman of
the other niggers. His title was B.N."
"Uncle Dave what does B.N. stand for?"
With this question to answer, Uncle Dave broke into a spasm of laughter,
bending double first, then rocking from side to side, all the time
laughing while I waited anxiously to know the secret. Then, throwing
his head back, he came forth with great emphasis--"Why, he was what we
called 'Big Nigger'." Then we both laughed.
"Uncle Dave what were the duties of your mother as a slave?"
"Every slave had his task, and my mother was cook for the family and the
weaver. All of the clothing was made on the plantation from cotton and
wool. The cotton was carded, spun and woven into cloth and died.
Likewise, woolen garments was made from the wool clipped from the sheep
raised for this purpose. All these garments were made right on the
plantation."
"Uncle Dave what did you do when you were a little slave?"
"Well, there was a whole drove of us little niggers. We had lots of
chickens, cattle, hogs, sheep, etc. I had to help get up the eggs, drive
cattle, open gates, go on errands for Marster, and Marster most always
took me on trips with him, letting me ride in the foot of his buggy. I
was his favorite little pet nigger."
"You must have been the Little Big Nigger, Uncle Dave."
"I was always pushing an investigation, so when Marse Mappin take me on
trips with him that was my favorite time to ask questions. I remember
one hot August day we were driving along, and I had already asked
numerous questions, and Marse had already told me to shut up. I remained
quiet for a time, but the temptation was too great, and while Marse was
wiping the perspiration off his bald head, I said, 'Marster, may I ask
you one more question?' 'Yes, what is it David?' 'If a fly should light
on your head wouldn't he slip up and break his neck?' When Marster
shouted 'Shut up,' I did shut up. He used to tell his wife, Miss
Elizabeth, 'You know Elizabeth, my little nigger, Dave, drives me nearly
crazy asking questions about the stars, moon, sun, and everything.'
"My family lived continuously on the Mappin plantation until after the
war. Perhaps the most grievous fault of slavery was its persistent
assault upon the home life. Fortunately, none of our family was ever
sold, and we remained together until after the war. Marster Mappin was
far above the average slave owner; he was good to his slaves, fed them
well, and was a very humane gentleman. We had such quantities of
food--good rations, raised on the plantation. We had cattle, goats,
hogs, sheep, chickens, turkeys, geese, all kinds of grain, etc. Very
often a beef was butchered, we had fresh meat, barbecued kids, plenty
vegetables, in fact just plenty to eat, and the slaves fared well. On
Sundays we had pies and cakes and one thing and another. A special cook
did the cooking for the single slaves. I'll say our rations were 150%
fit. Everyone had certain tasks to perform, and all that was done above
certain requirements was paid for in some way. We always had meat left
over from year to year, and this old meat was made into soap, by using
grease and lye and boiling all in a big iron pot. After the mixture
become cold, it was a solid mass, which was cut and used for soap. Those
were good old days. Everybody had plenty of everything.
"There were strict rules governing slaves, but our master was never
brutal. I being a child, never received any punishment from any one
except my mother and my Mistress. Punishment was inflicted with a raw
cow hide, which was cut in a strip about three inches wide, one end
being twisted. This made a very powerful and painful weapon. There were
unruly slaves, what we called desperadoes. There were 'speculators',
too, who would get possession of these, and if a slave come into
possession of one of these speculators, he either had to come under or
else he was sure to die. The Lynch law was used extensively. Those
slaves committing crimes against the state were more often considered
unworthy of trial, though some were brought to trial, punishment being
so many licks each day for so many days or weeks, or capital punishment.
It is true that many crimes were put upon the slaves when the white man
was guilty.
"We had plenty of amusements in those days, such as corn shuckings,
dances, running, jumping and boxing contest. Saturday was the big
frolicking time, and every body made the most of it. Slaves were allowed
to tend little patches of their own, and were often given Saturday
afternoons off to work their crops, then when laying-by time came, we
had more time for our patches. We were allowed all we could make over
and above our certain tasks. Marster used to buy me candy when he take
me with him, but I can't remember him giving me spending money.
"We were not compelled to attend church on Sundays, but most of the
slaves went from time to time. I was a Baptist, my family being Baptist,
but I have long since put Christianity above creeds. I learned too, many
years ago, that we can find in the contents of that old book we call the
Bible, a solution to every problem we run up against."--Uncle Dave is a
learned theologian, and has served many years as a minister, or Doctor
of Divinity. He is very modest, and says that he wants no titles on his
name. He believes that every man and every woman gets all the credit
they deserve in this world. "Going back to the church services, we
slaves attended the white folks churches. There were galleries built for
the slaves in some of the churches, in others, there was space reserved
in the back of the church for the colored worshippers. It was a custom
to hold prayer meetings in the quarters for the colored sick. One of
the slaves named Charity had been sick a long time, just wasting away.
One beautiful spring morning they came running for my mother saying that
Charity was dying. I was a very small child, and ran after my mother to
Charity's house. It was a very harrowing experience to me, as it
required three women to hold Charity on the bed while she was dying. I
became so frightened, I slipped into unconsciousness. They took me home,
and after hours went by I still was unconscious, and Marster became so
alarmed about me that they sent for Dr. Cogburn. He said that it was a
thousand wonders that I ever came back, but he gave me some medicine and
brought me around. About a year later, my hair turned white, and it has
been white ever since. They used to gather herbs and one thing and
another from the woods for simple maladies, but Marster always send for
the doctor when things looked serious to him.
"In 1863, Miss Elizabeth was going to have big company at her house, and
she was saving her strawberries for the occasion. I spied all these
nice, ripe strawberries through the paling fence, and the whole crowd of
us little niggers thought they needed picking. We found an opening on
the lower side of the fence and made our way in, destroying all of those
luscious ripe strawberries. When we had about finished the job, Mistress
saw us, and hollered at us. Did we scatter! In the jam for the fence
hole I was the last one to get through and Mistress had gotten there by
that time and had me by the collar. She took me back to the house, got
the cow hide down, and commenced rubbing it over me. Before she got
through, she cut me all to pieces. I still have signs of those whelps on
me today. In the fight I managed to bite her on the wrist, causing her
to almost bleed to death. I finally got away and ran to a hiding place
of safety. [HW: I] They used soot and other things trying to stop the
bleeding.
"When Marster come home he saw Miss Elizabeth with her hand all bandaged
up, and wanted to know what the trouble was. He was told the story, so
he came out to look for me. He called me out from my hiding place, and
when he saw me with those awful whelps on me, and how pitiful looking I
was, he said, "Elizabeth, you done ruint my little nigger, David." "I
wouldn't have him in this fix for all the strawberries." I was very fond
of strawberries in those days, but that experience put an end forever to
my taste for them. So much for the strawberry business!
"Even a dog [HW: likes] kind treatment. Some days Mistress was good and
kind to us little niggers, and she would save us the cold biscuits to
give us when we brought in the eggs. Sometime, she would go two or three
days without giving us any biscuits then she didn't get no eggs. We
rascals would get up the eggs and go off and have a rock battle with
them. Every effect has a cause--then Miss would wonder why she didn't
get any eggs and call us all in for cold biscuits, then the eggs would
come again. Of course we had our game of "tell". If one of the gang
threatened to tell, then we all would threaten to tell all we knew on
him, and somehow we managed to get by with it all.
"After the war, my father stayed on with Marster Mappin as a cropper
running a two horse farm for himself. In the early 70's my father bought
12 acres of land from Judge Lawson near Eatonton, which was later sold
in lots to different colored people, and became known as Gullinsville,
and is still so called by some.
"In 1876, 26 day of November, I left my folks and came to Milledgeville
to live. I worked for Mr. Miller S. Bell in the livery stable for $7.00
per month. Of this amount I sent $3.50 home to my parents. The next year
I went on a farm with Mr. John Wall for $8.00 per month. The next year I
had a better offer with Mr. R. N. Lamar to farm and act as general handy
man for $9.00 per month. I saved my money and worked hard, and I would
lend Mr. Lamar my yearly income at interest. In 1882, Mr. Lamar
negotiated a trade with Mr. Samuel Evans for this piece of property
right here. When they found out a Negro wanted to buy the property,
there was more or less argument, but I sat right still and let Mr. Lamar
handle the trade for me. I have owned other property, but I have sold
everything else I had. My health failed, and I just settled down here to
be quiet. I owned property on Chestnut Street in Atlanta and in Putnam
County also. I have been saving all my life, everything."
On looking about me, I concluded he was indeed a thrifty person. An
accumulation of every conceivable thing (junk) that had been discarded
by others, Uncle Dave had brought home and carefully and neatly stored
it away for subsequent use.
"Uncle Dave tell me something about your education."
"Well, when I was a boy back in Putnam County I went to night school.
For a long time I was the only Negro in the class. My foundation work I
got under a Mr. Whitfield, Mr. John Nix, and we had a Yankee teacher,
Miss Claudia Young. In September 1885 I went to Atlanta and entered the
academic department of what is now Morehouse College. I was graduated in
academics in 1889 as valedictorian of the class--my subject being "We
Are Coming", which was a theme on the progress of the Negro race. In
1891 I was graduated from the theological department as valedictorian,
my subject then being "Why Do Nations Die".
"Now Miss, you ask me if I am superstitious. I show am. When I hear
these owls at night I just get up and get me some salt and a newspaper
and burn this, and I don't never hear that same owl again. Some folks
say tie knots in the sheet, but I burn salt. I think the bellowing or
lowing of cows and oxen or the bleating of sheep is a bad omen." Then
Uncle David took me way back in the Bible and recited how the king was
commanded to slay all the cattle and everything and they kept out some
of the oxen and sheep. "I believe you should turn a clock face to the
wall when a person dies. I believe in signs, yes mam!"
"Marster was good to his niggers, but they had to have a pass to leave
the plantation. There were patrolers to look after the slaves and see
that they did not run around without a pass. If they found one without a
pass, he was strapped then and there by the patrolers. Of course I was
too young in those days to run around at night, and my mother always had
us in bed early. It was long after the war that I did my courting. I was
to have married a girl before I went to Atlanta in the 80's, but she
died. I later married a Yankee nigger in Atlanta. She belonged to the
400, and some how, she never could get used to me and my plain ways. We
had four children, three boys and one girl. Two of the boys died, and I
have living today, one daughter married and living in Washington, D.C.
and my son and his family live in Alabama.
"My Marster did not go to the war, but we all worked at home preparing
food and clothes and other things for those who did go. Some of the
slaves went as helpers, in digging ditches and doing manual labor. The
Yankee soldiers visited our territory, killing everything in sight. They
were actually most starved to death. Marster was all broken after the
war. He had planned to buy another plantation, and increase his
holdings, but the war sorter left us all like the yellow fever had
struck.
"After a number of years in Mission work and in the ministry I was
compelled to retire on account on my broken health. I owe my long life
to my mother's training in childhood. There are four things that keep
old man Gullins busy all the time--keeping out of jail, out of hell, out
of debt, and keeping hell out of me. I learned to put my wants in the
kindergarten, and if I couldn't get what I wanted, I learned to want
what I could get. I believe it is just as essential to have jails as to
have churches. I have learned too, that you can't substitute anything
for the grace of God."
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Milton Hammond
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Minnie B Ross
