Phoebe Banks
From:
Oklahoma
Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
10-19-1938
1,428 words
PHOEBE BANKS
Age 78
Muskogee, Oklahoma.
In 1860, there was a little Creek Indian town of Sodom on the north
bank of the Arkansas River, in a section the Indians called Chocka
Bottoms, where Mose Perryman had a big farm or ranch for a long time
before the Civil War. That same year, on October 17, I was born on the
Perryman place, which was northwest of where I live now in Muskogee;
only in them days Fort Gibson and Okmulgee was the biggest towns
around and Muskogee hadn't shaped up yet.
My mother belonged to Mose Perryman when I was born; he was one of the
best known Creeks in the whole nation, and one of his younger
brothers, Legus Perryman, was made the big chief of the Creeks (1887)
a long time after the slaves was freed. Mother's name was Eldee; my
father's name was William McIntosh, because he belonged to a Creek
Indian family by that name. Everybody say the McIntoshes was leaders
in the Creek doings away back there in Alabama long before they come
out here.
With me, there was twelve children in our family; Daniel, Stroy,
Scott, Segal, Neil, Joe, Phillip, Mollie, Harriett, Sally and Queenie.
The Perryman slave cabins was all alike--just two-room log cabins,
with a fireplace where mother do the cooking for us children at night
after she get through working in the Master's house.
Mother was the house girl--cooking, waiting on the table, cleaning the
house, spinning the yarn, knitting some of the winter clothes, taking
care of the mistress girl, washing the clothes--yes, she was always
busy and worked mighty hard all the time, while them Indians wouldn't
hardly do nothing for themselves.
On the McIntosh plantation, my daddy said there was a big number of
slaves and lots of slave children. The slave men work in the fields,
chopping cotton, raising corn, cutting rails for the fences, building
log cabins and fireplaces. One time when father was cutting down a
tree it fell on him and after that he was only strong enough to rub
down the horses and do light work around the yard. He got to be a good
horse trainer and long time after slavery he helped to train horses
for the Free Fairs around the country, and I suppose the first money
he ever earned was made that way.
Lots of the slave owners didn't want their slaves to learn reading and
writing, but the Perrymans didn't care; they even helped the younger
slaves with that stuff. Mother said her master didn't care much what
the slaves do; he was so lazy he didn't care for nothing.
They tell me about the war times, and that's all I remember of it.
Before the War is over some of the Perryman slaves and some from the
McIntosh place fix up to run away from their masters.
My father and my uncle, Jacob Perryman, was some of the fixers. Some
of the Creek Indians had already lost a few slaves who slip off to the
North, and they take what was left down into Texas so's they couldn't
get away. Some of the other Creeks was friendly to the North and was
fixing to get away up there; that's the ones my daddy and uncle was
fixing to join, for they was afraid their masters would take up and
move to Texas before they could get away.
They call the old Creek, who was leaving for the North, "Old Gouge"
(Opoethleyohola). All our family join up with him, and there was lots
of Creek Indians and slaves in the outfit when they made a break for
the North. The runaways was riding ponies stolen from their masters.
When they get into the hilly country farther north in the country that
belong to the Cherokee Indians, they make camp on a big creek and
there the Rebel Indian soldiers catch up, but they was fought back.
Then long before morning lighten the sky, the men hurry and sling the
camp kettles across the pack horses, tie the littlest children to the
horses backs and get on the move farther into the mountains. They kept
moving fast as they could, but the wagons made it mighty slow in the
brush and the lowland swamps, so just about the time they ready to
ford another creek the Indian soldiers catch up and the fighting begin
all over again.
The Creek Indians and the slaves with them try to fight off them
soldiers like they did before, but they get scattered around and
separated so's they lose the battle. Lost their horses and wagons, and
the soldiers killed lots of the Creeks and Negroes, and some of the
slaves was captured and took back to their masters.
Dead all over the hills when we get away; some of the Negroes shot and
wounded so bad the blood run down the saddle skirts, and some fall off
their horses miles from the battle ground, and lay still on the
ground. Daddy and Uncle Jacob keep our family together somehow and
head across the line into Kansas. We all get to Fort Scott where there
was a big army camp; daddy work in the blacksmith shop and Uncle Jacob
join with the Northern soldiers to fight against the South. He come
through the war and live to tell me about the fighting he been in.
He went with the soldiers down around Fort Gibson where they fight the
Indians who stayed with the South. Uncle Jacob say he killed many a
man during the war, and showed me the musket and sword he used to
fight with; said he didn't shoot the women and children--just whack
their heads off with the sword, and almost could I see the blood
dripping from the point! It made me scared at his stories.
The captain of this company want his men to be brave and not get
scared, so before the fighting start he put out a tub of white liquor
(corn whiskey) and steam them up so's they'd be mean enough to whip
their grannie! The soldiers do lots of riding and the saddle-sores get
so bad they grease their body every night with snake oil so's they
could keep going on.
Uncle Jacob said the biggest battle was at Honey Springs (1863). That
was down near Elk Creek, close by Checotah, below Rentiersville. He
said it was the most terrible fighting he seen, but the Union soldiers
whipped and went back into Fort Gibson. The Rebels was chased all over
the country and couldn't find each other for a long time, the way he
tell it.
After the war our family come back here and settle at Fort Gibson, but
it ain't like the place my mother told me about. There was big houses
and buildings of brick setting on the high land above the river when I
first see it, not like she know it when the Perrymans come here years
ago.
She heard the Indians talk about the old fort (1824), the one that rot
down long before the Civil War. And she seen it herself when she go
with the Master for trading with the stores. She said it was made by
Matthew Arbuckle and his soldiers, and she talk about Companys B, C,
D, K, and the Seventh Infantry who was there and made the Osage
Indians stop fighting the Creeks and Cherokees. She talk of it, but
that old place all gone when I first see the Fort.
Then I hear about how after the Arbuckle soldiers leave the old log
fort, the Cherokee Indians take over the land and start up the town of
Keetoowah. The folks who move in there make the place so wild and
rascally the Cherokees give up trying to make a good town and it
kinder blow away.
My husband was Tom Banks, but the boy I got ain't my own son, but I
found him on my doorstep when he's about three weeks old and raise him
like he is my own blood. He went to school at the manual training
school at Tullahassee and the education he got get him a teacher job
at Taft (Okla), where he is now.
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