Emma Virgel
From:
Georgia
PLANTATION LIFE AS VIEWED BY AN EX-SLAVE
EMMA VIRGEL, Age 73
1491 W. Broad Street
Athens, Georgia
Written by:
Grace McCune
Athens
Edited by:
Sarah H. Hall
Athens
and
John N. Booth
District Supervisor
Federal Writers' Project
Residencies 6 & 7
Augusta, Ga.
[Date Stamp: MAY 13 1938]
Hurrying for shelter from a sudden shower, the interviewer heard a
cheerful voice singing "Lord I'se Comin' Home," as she rushed up the
steps of Aunt Emma's small cabin. Until the song was ended she quietly
waited on the tiny porch and looked out over the yard which was
attractive with roses and other old-fashioned flowers; then she knocked
on the door.
Dragging footsteps and the tap, tap of a crutch sounded as Aunt Emma
approached the door. "Come in out of dat rain, chile, or you sho' will
have de pneumony," she said. "Come right on in and set here by my fire.
Fire feels mighty good today. I had to build it to iron de white folkses
clothes." Aunt Emma leaned heavily on her crutch as she wielded the iron
with a dexterity attainable only by long years of experience. Asked if
her lameness and use of a crutch made her work difficult, she grinned
and answered: "Lawsy chile, I'se jus' so used to it, I don't never think
'bout it no more. I'se had to wuk all of my life, no matter what was in
de way." The comfort, warmth and cheer of the small kitchen encouraged
intimate conversation and when Aunt Emma was asked for the story of her
childhood days and her recollections of slavery, she replied: "I was too
little to 'member much, but I'se heared my Ma tell 'bout dem days.
"My Pa and Ma was Louis and Mary Jackson. Dey b'longed to Marse John
Montgomery, way down in Oconee County. Marse John didn't have no wife
den, 'cause he didn't git married 'til atter de War. He had a big place
wid lots of slaves. He was sho' good to 'em, and let 'em have plenty of
evvything. De slave quarters was log cabins wid big fireplaces, whar dey
done de cookin'. Dey had racks to hang pots on to bile and dey baked in
ovens set on de harth (hearth). Dat was powerful good eatin'. Dey had a
big old gyarden whar dey raised plenty of corn, peas, cabbages,
potatoes, collards, and turnip greens. Out in de fields dey growed
mostly corn, wheat, and cotton. Marster kep' lots of chickens, cows,
hogs, goats, and sheep; and he fed 'em all mighty good.
"Marster let his slaves dance, and my Ma was sho' one grand dancer in
all de breakdown's. Dey give 'em plenty of toddy and Niggers is dancers
f'um way back yonder while de toddy lasts.
"Slaves went to deir Marster's meetin's and sot in de back of de church.
Dey had to be good den 'cause Marster sho' didn't 'low no cuttin' up
'mongst his Niggers at de church. Ma said he didn't believe in whuppin'
his Niggers lessen it jus' had to be done, but den dey knowed he was
'round dar when he did have to whup 'em.
"Ma said when dey had big baptizin's in de river dey prayed and shouted
and sung 'Washin' 'way my Sins,'--'Whar de Healin' Water Flows,' and
'Crossin' de River Jerdan.' De white preacher baptized de slaves and den
he preached--dat was all dere was to it 'ceppen de big dinner dey had in
de churchyard on baptizin' days.
"When slaves died, dey made coffins out of pine wood and buried 'em whar
de white folkses was buried. If it warn't too fur a piece to de
graveyard, dey toted de coffin on three or four hand sticks. Yessum,
hand sticks, dat's what day called 'em. Dey was poles what dey sot de
coffin on wid a Nigger totin' each end of de poles. De white preacher
prayed and de Niggers sung 'Hark f'um de Tomb.'
"Ma said she had a grand big weddin'. She wore a white swiss dress wid a
bleachin' petticoat, made wid heaps of ruffles and a wreath of flowers
'round her head. She didn't have no flower gals. Pa had on a long, frock
tail, jim swinger coat lak de preacher's wore. A white preacher married
'em in de yard at de big house. All de Niggers was dar, and Marster let
'em dance mos' all night.
"I was de oldest of Ma's 10 chillun. Dey done all gone to rest now
'ceptin' jus' de three of us what's lef in dis world of trouble. Yessum,
dere sho' is a heap of trouble here.
"Atter de War, Ma and Pa moved on Mr. Bill Marshall's place to farm for
him and dar's whar I was born. Dey didn't stay dar long 'fore dey moved
to Mr. Jim Mayne's place away out in de country, in de forks of de big
road down below Watkinsville. I sho' was a country gal. Yessum, I sho'
was. Mr. Mayne's wife was Mrs. Emma Mayne and she took a lakin' to me
'cause I was named Emma. I stayed wid her chilluns all de time, slep' in
de big house, and et dar too, jus' lak one of dem, and when dey bought
for dey chillun dey bought for me too.
"Us wore homespun dresses and brass toed shoes. Sometimes us would git
mighty mad and fuss over our games and den Miss Emma would make us come
in de big house and set down. No Ma'am, she never did whup us. She was
good and she jus' talked to us, and told us us never would git to Heb'en
lessen us was good chillun. Us played games wid blocks and jumped de
rope and, when it was warm, us waded in de crick. Atter I was big
'nough, I tuk de white chillun to Sunday School, but I didn't go inside
den--jus' waited on de outside for 'em. I never got a chanct to go to
school none, but de white chilluns larnt me some.
"Marse Jim was mighty good to de Niggers what wukked for him, and us all
loved him. He didn't 'low no patterollers or none of dem Ku Kluxers
neither to bother de Niggers on his place. He said he could look atter
'em his own self. He let 'em have dances, and evvy Fourth of July he had
big barbecues. Yessum, he kilt hogs, goats, sheep and sometimes a cow
for dem barbecues. He believed in havin' plenty to eat.
"I 'members dem big corn shuckin's. He had de mostes' corn, what was in
great big piles put in a circle. All de neighbors was axed to come and
bring deir Niggers. De fus' thing to do was to 'lect a gen'ral to stand
in de middle of all dem piles of corn and lead de singin' of de reels.
No Ma'am, I don't 'member if he had no shuck stuck up on his hat or not,
and I can't ricollec' what de words of de reels was, 'cause us chillun
was little den, but de gen'ral he pulled off de fus' shuck. Den he
started singin' and den dey all sung in answer to him, and deir two
hands a-shuckin' corn kep' time wid de song. As he sung faster, dey jus'
made dem shucks more dan fly. Evvy time de gen'ral would speed up de
song, de Niggers would speed up deir corn shuckin's. If it got dark
'fore dey finished, us chillun would hold torch lights for 'em to see
how to wuk. De lights was made out of big pine knots what would burn a
long time. Us felt mighty big when us was 'lowed to hold dem torches.
When dey got done shuckin' all de corn, dey had a big supper, and Honey,
dem was sho' some good eatments--barbecue of all sorts--jus' thinkin'
'bout dem pies makes me hongry, even now. Ma made 'em, and she couldn't
be beat on chicken pies and sweet potato pies. Atter dey done et and
drunk all dey wanted, Marse Jim would tell 'em to go to it. Dat was de
word for de gen'ral to start up de dancin', and dat lasted de rest of de
night; dat is if dey didn't all fall out, for old time corn shuckin'
breakdowns was drag-outs and atter all dem 'freshments, hit sho' kept
somebody busy draggin' out dem what fell out. Us chillun was 'lowed to
stay up long as us wanted to at corn shuckin's, and sometimes us would
git out and try to do lak de grown-up Niggers. Hit was de mos' fun.
"Dey went huntin' and fishin' and when dey cotch or kilt much, dey had a
big supper. I 'members de fus' time I ever cooked 'possum. Ma was sick
in de bed, and de mens had done been 'possum huntin'. Ma said I would
jus' have to cook dem 'possums. She told me how to fix 'em and she said
to fix 'em wid potatoes and plenty of butter and red pepper. Den she
looked at me right hard and said dat dey had better be jus' right. Dat
skeered me so I ain't never been so I could eat no 'possum since den.
Yessum, dey was cooked jus' right, but cookin' 'em jus' once when I was
skeered cured me of de taste for eatin' 'possum.
"Us chillun didn't git out and go off lak dey does dese days. Us stayed
dar on de plantation. In winter us had to wear plenty of clothes, wid
flannel petticoats and sich lak, and us stayed in by de fire. Big boys
had clothes made out of jeans, but little boys wore homespun shirts. On
hot days us jus' wore one piece of clothes, a sort of shirt what was
made long and had a yoke in it.
"Dey made me use snuff to cure my sore eyes when I was little, and I
never could quit usin' it no more. When I was 'bout 15, Ma and Pa moved
to Athens and I went to wuk for Mr. Joe Webb's fambly. I wukked for 'em
for 30 years and raised all deir chillun. Dey was all mighty good to me
and seed dat I had plenty of evvything. I would still be dar, but de old
folkses all done died out and gone to dey rest and de younguns done
married and lef' here.
"I was wukkin' right in de house wid 'em when I 'cided to git married.
Yes Ma'am, I sho' done had one swell elegant weddin'. Jus' evvything
heart could ask for. I married at my Ma's house, but my white folkses
was all right dar, and dey had done fixed de house up pretty wid flowers
all over it. Dey give me my white flannel weddin' dress and it was sho'
pretty, but dey warn't nothin' lackin' 'bout my second day dress. My
white folkses bought dat too,--It was a bottle green silk. Lawsy, but I
was sho' one dressed up bride. It was 8 o'clock dat night when de
preacher got finished wid tyin' dat knot for me and Sam Virgel. My
sister and her fellow stood up wid us and us had a big crowd at our
weddin' supper. Dere was one long table full of our white folkses,
'sides all de Niggers, and I jus' never seed so much to eat. My white
folkses said dat Emma jus' had to have plenty for her weddin' feast and
dey evermore did lay out good things for dat supper, and dem Niggers
sho' did hide dat chicken and cake away lak dey hadn't never seed none
before.
"I wukked on for de Webbs 'til dey was all gone. De old folks is in
Heb'en whar I 'spects to see 'em some day when de Lord done called me
home. De younguns moved away, but I still loves 'em evvyone, 'cause dey
looked atter old Emma so good when dey was here. Us never had no chillun
and Sam done been gone to his res' long years ago. I'se jus' a-wukkin
and a-waitin 'til I gits called to go too. I don't have plenty all de
time now lak I used to, and nobody here looks atter old Emma no more,
but I makes out.
"I'se mighty glad it rained if dat's what sont you to my door. It's been
nice to talk wid white folkses again. I wisht I had somepin' nice for
you! Let me cut you a bunch of my flowers?" She carefully placed her
iron on the hearth and hobbled out in the yard. The May shower had been
followed by sunshine as she handed her guest a huge bouquet of roses,
Aunt Emma bowed low. "Good-bye, Missy," she said, "please come back to
see me."
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