Salomon Oliver
From:
Oklahoma
Oklahoma Writers' Project
Ex-Slaves
SALOMON OLIVER
Age 78 yrs.
Tulsa, Oklahoma.
John A. Miller owned the finest plantation in Washington County,
Mississippi, about 12-mile east of Greenville. I was born on this
20,000-acre plantation November 17, 1859, being one of about four
hundred slave children on the place.
About three hundred negro families living in box-type cabins made it
seem like a small town. Built in rows, the cabins were kept
whitewashed, neat and orderly, for the Master was strict about such
things. Several large barns and storage buildings were scattered
around the plantation. Also, two cotton gins and two old fashioned
presses, operated by horses and mules, made Miller's plantation one of
the best equipped in Mississippi.
Master John was quite a character. The big plantation didn't occupy
all his time. He owned a bank in Vicksburg and another in New Orleans,
and only came to the plantation two or three times a year for a week
or two visit.
Things happened around there mighty quick when the Master showed up.
If the slaves were not being treated right--out go the white overseer.
Fired! The Master was a good man and tried to hire good boss men.
Master John was bad after the slave women. A yellow child show up
every once in a while. Those kind always got special privileges
because the Master said he didn't want his children whipped like the
rest of them slaves.
My own Mammy, Mary, was the Master's own daughter! She married Salomon
Oliver (who took the name of Oliver after the War), and the Master
told all the slave drivers to leave her alone and not whip her. This
made the overseers jealous of her and caused trouble. John Santhers
was one of the white overseers who treated her bad, and after I was
born and got strong enough (I was a weakling for three-four years
after birth), to do light chores he would whip me just for the fun of
it. It was fun for him but not for me. I hoped to whip him when I grew
up. That is the one thing I won't ever forget. He died about the end
of the War so that's one thing I won't ever get to do.
My mother was high-tempered and she knew about the Master's orders not
to whip her. I guess sometimes she took advantage and tried to do
things that maybe wasn't right. But it did her no good and one of the
white men flogged her to death. She died with scars on her back!
Father use to preach to the slaves when a crowd of them could slip off
into the woods. I don't remember much about the religious things, only
just what Daddy told me when I was older. He was caught several times
slipping off to the woods and because he was the preacher I guess they
layed on the lash a little harder trying to make him give up
preaching.
Ration day was Saturday. Each person was given a peck of corn meal,
four pounds of wheat flour, four pounds of pork meat, quart of
molasses, one pound of sugar, the same of coffee and a plug of
tobacco. Potatoes and vegetables came from the family garden and each
slave family was required to cultivate a separate garden.
During the Civil War a battle was fought near the Miller plantation.
The Yankees under General Grant came through the country. They burned
2,000 bales of Miller cotton. When the Yankee wagons crossed Bayou
Creek the bridge gave way and quite a number of soldiers and horses
were seriously injured.
For many years after the War folks would find bullets in the ground.
Some of the bullets were 'twins' fastened together with a chain.
Master Miller settled my father upon a piece of land after the War and
we stayed on it several years, doing well.
I moved to Muskogee in 1902, coming on to Tulsa in 1907, the same year
Oklahoma was made a state. My six wives are all dead,--Liza, Lizzie,
Ellen, Lula, Elizabeth and Henrietta. Six children, too. George,
Anna, Salomon, Nelson, Garfield, Cosmos--all good children. They
remember the Tulsa riot and don't aim ever to come back to Oklahoma.
When the riot started in 1922 (I think it was), I had a place on the
corner of Pine and Owasso Streets. Two hundred of my people gathered
at my place, because I was so well known everybody figured we wouldn't
be molested. I was wrong. Two of my horses was shot and killed. Two of
my boys, Salomon and Nelson, was wounded, one in the hip, the other in
the shoulder. They wasn't bad and got well alright. Some of my people
wasn't so lucky. The dead wagon hauled them away!
White men came into the negro district and gathered up the homeless.
The houses were most all burned. No place to go except to the camps
where armed whites kept everybody quiet. They took my clothes and all
my money--$298.00--and the police couldn't do nothing about my loss
when I reported it to them.
That was a terrible time, but we people are better off today that any
time during the days of slavery. We have some privileges and they are
worth more than all the money in the world!
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Phyllis Petite
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Amanda Oliver
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