Richard C Moring
From:
North Carolina
N.C. District: No. 2
Worker: Mary A. Hicks
No. Words: 944
Subject: RICHARD C. MORING
Story teller: Richard C. Moring
Editor: Daisy Bailey Waitt
RICHARD C. MORING
Ex-Slave Story
An interview with Richard C. Moring 86 of 245 E.
South Street, Raleigh, N.C.
"My mammy wus Cherry, an' my pappy wus Jacob. Mr. Anderson Clemmons
owned mammy, an' Mr. Fielding Moring owned pappy.
"I doan know much 'bout Mr. Moring, case we stayed wid Mr. Clemmons
near Apex, in dis same county.
"Mr. Clemmons owned less'n a dozen slaves, but he wus good ter 'em. De
oberseer, Mr. Upchurch, whupped de slaves some, but not very much.
"We had nuff ter eat an' w'ar an' we wuck hard, but no harder dan we
has since dat time. Marster 'lowed us our own gyarden an' tater patch,
we also had our own hawgs.
"Dey 'lowed us some fun lak dancin', wrestlin' matches, swimmin',
fishin', huntin' an' games. We also had prayer meetin's at our cabins.
"When dere wus a weddin' dar wus fun fer all, case hit wus a big
affair. Dey wus all dressed up in new clothes, an' marster's dinin'
room wus decorated wid flowers fer de 'casion. De ban' which wus
banjoes, an' fiddles 'ud play an' de neighborin' folks 'ud come.
"De preacher married 'em up good an' tight jist lak he done de white
folks, an' atter hit wus ober an' de songs wus sung marster's dinin'
table wus set an' dar was a weddin' supper fer all.
"I doan 'member so much 'fore de war but I 'members dat de Rebs go by
an' dat de Yankees chase 'em. (I is on Mr. Morings' place den clost ter
Morrisville.)
"De Yankees am so busy chasin' de Rebs dat dey doan stop ter bodder us
much, 'cept ter kill de chickens an' so on.
"Dar's a place out from Morrisville whar de Yankees an' de Rebels had
er little skirmish on dat trip. We could hyar de guns go boomin', an'
atter hit wus ober we chilluns went dar an' pick up de balls an' boxes
of dese hardtacks whar de soldiers had fit.
"I fergit ter tell you 'bout de fust gang o' Yankees what come by. Dey
wus lookin' fer food an' when dey got ter our place dey comes in an'
he'ps dereselbes ter marster's stuff. Dey kilt all de live things, took
all de hams an' sich, an' dey foun' 'bout a bushel o' aigs. Dey put 'em
in de big wash pot an' biled 'em an' dey goes ter de spring house an'
gits seben er eight poun's o' butter. When de aigs am biled dey splits
'em open an' puts de butter on 'em an' eats 'em dat way. Dat's de fust
aigs dat eber I tasted, an' dey shore give me all I wants.
"We went back ter Mr. Clemmons' 'fore de surrender, case when dat
happen Mis' Jane Clemmons tells us'n herself dat we am free. All o' we
chilluns, Duncan, Candice, Mariah, Len, Willis, William, Sidney, Lindy,
Mary, Rilda, an' me, all of mammy's chilluns was dar at de en' of de
war.
"We stayed on at Mr. Clemmons fer seberal years, in fac' till de ole
folks died. My young Missus Mis' Katy Ellis lives on Hillsboro Street,
an' I often goes ter see her an' she sometimes gives me money, so you
sees de feelin' dat 'zists twixt me an' my white folkses.
"I'll tell you de story 'bout de witch at de mill iffen you wants ter
hyar hit, I hyard my grandmammy tell hit when I wus a little feller."
THE WITCH AT THE MILL
"Onct dar wus a free nigger what ownes a mill an' he am makin' a heap
o' money. He married a han'some nigger wench an' hit 'peared lak his
luck all went bad. De folkses quit bringin' dere co'n ter be groun' an'
he 'gan ter git pore.
"'Long in dem times de slaves sometimes runned away from deir cruel
marsters an' dey'd go ter dis nigger at de mill. He'ud put 'em ter
sleep in de mill, but dey can't sleep on de 'count of fusses an'
scratchin'.
"'Last one night a nigger what has runned away comed ter spen' de
night, an' he sez dat he am not skeerd o' nothin' De owner can put him
ter sleep in de house if he wants ter, case his wife am spendin' de
night wid a friend of hern, but he 'sides ter put him in de mill.
"He tells de runaway nigger 'bout de witch, but atter de nigger gits
hisself a butcher knife he ain't skeered no mo' an' he goes on ter de
mill.
"'Way in de night de nigger sees somethin', an' de whites o' his eyes
shines lak lamps. De things comes nearer an' nearer an' he sees dat hit
am a big black cat wid de savage notion o' eatin' him.
"De nigger swings his knife an' off comes one of de ole cat's feets.
She gives a awful screech an' goes outen de winder.
"De nex' mornin' de owner's wife am sick in de bed an' she' fuses ter
git up. De man tells her ter git up an' cook his breakfas', but she
'fuses ter stir.
"'You better git up, you lazy trollop', de man shouts an' wid dat he
drags de 'oman outen de bed. He am 'mazed when he sees dat her han' am
cut off, an' he yells fer de neighbors.
"When de neighbors gits dar dey makes a big bresh pile an' dey ties her
on hit an' burns her up. Atter dat de man had good luck, eben atter he
married ag'in."
Note: This witch story is a variant of The Old Brownrigg
Mill by Doctor Richard Dillard.
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Julius Nelson
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Fannie Moore
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