Jane Mickens
From:
Georgia
[HW: Dist 1
Ex-Slave #107]
JANE MICKENS TOOMBS OF WASHINGTON-WILKES
Age approx. 82
by
Minnie Branham Stonestreet
Washington-Wilkes
GEORGIA
[Date Stamp: JAN 26 1937]
[Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]
A story of happiness and contentment on a big plantation where there
were "a heap of us slaves" is told by Jane Mickens Toombs who said she
was "five er six years ole when de Wah come on (1860), or maby a lit'le
ol'er."
She is a bright old woman, well and spry despite the fact she "wuz
conjured onst when I wuz young an' dat lef' me lame an' dis eye plum'
out an' de t'other bad."
When asked about the conjuring she said: "No'm, I don't 'zackly know how
t'wuz, but enyhow somebody whut knowed how ter 'wu'k roots' got me lame
on dis side, an' my eye out, jess kase I wuz a decent, nice lookin' gal,
an' went on 'tendin' ter my business an' payin' dem no mind. Dat's de
way dey done in dem days, jess jealous of nice colored niggers. Yassum,
I wuz sick fer nigh on ter two years an' de doctuhs never knowed what
ailed me. Dey done everything dey could, but I wuz conjured an' dey
couldn't hep' me. A doctuh-man frum up yander in New Yalk cum down here
ter see his folks, an' he tried to kure [HW: cyore] me, but doctuhs
kain't [HW: kaan't] kure [HW: cyore] conjured folks, so I had ter lay
an' suffer 'til de conjure wore out. Dem whut done dat knowed dey done
me wrong, but I kep' trustin' in my Lawd, an' now dey's gone an' I'se er
stumblin' roun' yit. No mam, I never knowed jess whut dey done ter me,
but hit wuz bad, I kin tell yer dat, hit might nigh kilt me."
Aunt Jane was born on the Gullatt Plantation on the line of Wilkes and
Lincoln counties. Her Mother was Liza Gullatt and her father John
Mickens who belonged to Mr. Augustus McMekin. "Yassum, my Pa wuz John
'Mickens an' his Marster bought him in Alabamy. All de slaves whut
belonged to de McMekins called dey selves 'Mickens. I wuz one of fifteen
chillun an' cum er long in betweenst de oldest 'uns an' de youngest
sum'ers. I wuz named fer my Mistess Jane Gullatt whut died. Young Marse
George Gullatt choosed me out, dough, an' I'd er been his'en ef Freedom
hadn't er come. You know dat's de way dey use ter do back in slavery
time, de young Mistesses an' Marsters choosed out de little niggers dey
wanted fer their'n."
This is another case where the father and mother belonged to different
families. The father had a pass to go and come as he pleased, although
his family lived a little distance away. Jane said her father's master
would have bought her mother if the War hadn't come on and they were set
free.
Jane told of the log cabins in the Quarters where all the negroes lived.
She said they were all in a row "wid er street in de front, er wide
street all set thick wid white mulberry trees fer ter mak' shade fer de
chillun ter play in." They never had any punishment only [HW: except]
switchings by their Mistess, and that was not often. They played dolls,
"us had home-made rag dolls, nice 'uns, an' we'd git dem long grass
plumes (Pampas grass) an' mak' dolls out'n dem too. Us played all day
long every day. My Mistess' chillun wuz all growed up so jess us little
niggers played tergether.
"My Mother spun an' wove de cloth, an' dyed hit, but our Mistess made
our clothes. My Grandma, Nancy, wuz de cook an' she fed all de little
'uns in de big ole kitchen whut sot out in de yard. She had a tray she
put our victuals on an Uh, Uh, whut good things we had ter eat, an' er
plenty of everything! Us et jess whut our white folks had, dey didn't
mak' no difference in us when hit cum ter eatin'. My Grandaddy looked
atter de meat, he done everything 'bout dat, an' he sho' knowed how ter
fix it, too.
"De fust thing I recollects is bein' round in de kitchen when dey wuz
makin' ginger cakes an' my Mistess givin' me de pan she made 'em in fer
me ter sop hit out. Dey ain't nothin' whut smells good lak' de cookin'
in dem days, I kain't smell no victuals lak' dat now. Everything wuz
cooked on a big ole open fire place in one end of de kitchen. Dem good
ole days done gone now. Folkes done got wiser an' wickeder--dey ain't
lak' dey use ter be."
At Christmas Santa Claus found his way to the Quarters on the Gollatt
plantation and each little slave had candy, apples, and "sich good
things as dat." Aunt Jane gave a glowing description of the preparation
for the Christmas season: "Lawdy, how de folks wu'ked gittin' ready fer
Chris'mus, fer three er fo' days dey stayed in de kitchen er cookin' an'
er bakin'--daye wuz de bes' light bread--great big loaves baked on de
fire place, an' cakes an' mo' good ginger cakes. Dey wuz plenty cooked
up to las' er long time. An' another thing, dare want no cookin' on
Sunday, no mam, no wu'k of no kind. My Mistess had de cook cookin' all
day Fridays an' Saddays so when Sunday come dare wuz hot coffee made an'
dat wuz all, everything else wuz cooked up an' cold. Everybody went to
Church, de grown folks white and black, went to de preachin' an' den all
de little niggers wuz called in an de Bible read an' 'splained ter dem.
"Dare wuz preachin' down in de Quarters, but dat wuz at night an' wuz
led by de colored preachers. I recollects one night dare wuz a service
gwine on in one of de cabins an' all us wuz dare an' ole Uncle Alex
Frazier wuz up a linin' off a hymn 'bout
'Broad is de road dat leads ter Death
An' there an' here we travel.'
when in come some mens atter a colored feller whut had stole some sheep
an' hogs. Dey kotch 'im, but sho broke up de meetin'. In de hot summer
time Uncle George Gullatt use ter preach ter de slaves out under de
trees. Uncle George waz a kind of er preacher.
"My Pa didn't 'low his chillun ter go 'roun'. No'm, he kep' us home
keerful lak. Young folks in dem days didn't go all over de country lak
dey does now, dey stayed at home, an' little chillun wuz kep' back an'
dey didn' know no badness lak de chillun do terday. Us never even heared
de ole folks talk nothin' whut we oughtn't ter hear. Us jess played an'
stayed in a child's place. When we wuz sick de white folks seed dat we
wuz 'tended to. Dey use ter mak Jerusalem Oak candy an' give us. Dey
took de leaves of dat bush an' boiled 'em an' den use dat water dey wuz
boiled in an' put sugar 'nough in hit ter mak candy. An dey used plenty
of turpentine on us too--plenty ov hit, an' I believes in dat terday,
hit's er good medicine."
When asked about the War, Aunt Jane said she didn't remember much about
it. "But dare's one thing 'bout hit I sho' does 'member, an' dat's my
young Mistess Beckie's husband, Mr. Frazier, being off fightin' in de
Wah, an' she gittin' er letter frum him sayin' he wuz comin' home sich
an' sich er day. She wuz so happy she had all de grown slaves wu'kin'
gittin' ready fer him. Den dey brung her er letter sayin' he had been
kilt, an' she wuz in de yard when she read hit an' if dey hadn't er
kotch her she'd ov fell. I 'members de women takin' her in de house an'
gittin' her ter bed. She wuz so up sot an' took hit so hard. Dem wuz
sho' hard times an' sad 'uns too. 'Course I wuz too small ter know much
whut wuz gwine on, but I could tell hit wuz bad frum de way de older
folks looked.
"I recollects when dey say Freedom had cum. Dare wuz a speakin' fer de
slaves up here in town in Barnett's Grove. Dat mornin' Ole Miss sont all
de oldes' niggers to de speakin' an' kep' us little 'uns dat day. She
kep' us busy sweepin' de yards an' sich as dat. An' she cooked our
dinner an' give hit to us herself. I 'members de grown folks leavin'
early dat mornin' in a great big waggin.
"A while after de Wah, Pa took us over to de McMekins place an' we lived
dare fer a long time. He died an' lef' us an' den us had ter do de bes'
we could. Col. Tolbert hired me fer ter nuss his chillun an' I went over
ter his place ter live."
Aunt Jane said she isn't superstitious, but likes to see the new moon
clear and bow to it for good luck. She said it is better to show it a
piece of money, but as she doesn't always have money handy, she "jess
bows to hit nice an' polite". She keeps up with the weather by her
rheumatism and the cat: "Ef I has de reumatics I knows hit's gwine ter
rain, an' when de cat comes 'round an' sets washin' her face, look fer
rain, kase hit's er comin'. I've heared folks say dat hit's bad luck ter
stump yo' lef' foot, but I don't know boud dat. But I tell yer, when I
meets er cat I allus turns er round 'fore I goes on, dat turns de bad
luck er way."
When 19 years of age Jane married Albert Toombs. He belonged to the
Toombs family of Wilkes county. Aunt Jane said Albert brought her many
gifts while he was courting: "He warnt much on bringin' candy an'
nothin' lak dat ter eat, but he brung me shawls an' shoes--sumpin' I
could wear." They had four children, but only one is living.
"When I wuz a growin' up", said Aunt Jane, "folks had ter wu'k." She
worked on the farm, spun, wove, "done seamster wu'k" and knitted
stockings, sox and gloves. She said she carded too, "an' in dem times ef
a nigger wanted ter git de kinks out'n dey hair, dey combed hit wid de
cards. Now dey puts all kinds ov grease on hit, an' buy straightenin'
combs. Sumpin' dat costs money, dat's all dey is, old fashion cards'll
straighten hair jess as well as all dis high smellin' stuff dey sells
now."
Aunt Jane likes to tell of those days of long ago. Her memory is
excellent and she talks well. She says she is living out her Miss Jane's
time. "Yassum, my Miss Jane died when she wuz so young, I specks I jess
livin' out her days kase I named fer her. But I does miss dem good ole
days whut's gone. I'se hungry fer de sight ov a spinnin' wheel--does you
know whare's one? Things don't look lak' dey use ter, an' as fer whut we
has ter eat, dare ain't no victuals ever smelled an' et as good as dem
what dey use ter have on de plantation when I wuz a comin' on. Yassum,
folkes has got wiser an' know mo' dan dey did, but dey is wickeder--dey
kills now 'stid er conjurin' lak' dey did me."
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