Sarah Gudger
From:
North Carolina
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SARAH GUDGER [320005]
Ex-slave, 121 years
Investigation of the almost incredible claim of Aunt Sarah Gudger,
ex-slave living in Asheville, that she was born on Sept. 15, 1816,
discloses some factual information corroborating her statements.
Aunt Sarah's father, Smart Gudger, belonged to and took his family name
from Joe Gudger, who lived near Oteen, about six miles east of Asheville
in the Swannanoa valley, prior to the War Between the States. Family
records show that Joe Gudger married a Miss McRae in 1817, and that
while in a despondent mood he ended his own life by hanging, as vividly
recounted by the former slave.
John Hemphill, member of the family served by Aunt Sarah until
"freedom," is recalled as being "a few y'ars younge' as me," and indeed
his birth is recorded for 1822. Alexander Hemphill, mentioned by Aunt
Sarah as having left to join the Confederate army when about 25 years of
age, is authentic and his approximate age in 1861 tallies with that
recalled by the ex-slave. When Alexander went off to the war Aunt Sarah
was "gettin' t' be an ol' woman."
Aunt Sarah lives with distant cousins in a two-story frame house,
comfortably furnished, at 8 Dalton street in South Asheville (the Negro
section lying north of Kenilworth). A distant male relative, 72 years of
age, said he has known Aunt Sarah all his life and that she was an old
woman when he was a small boy. Small in stature, about five feet tall,
Aunt Sarah is rathered rounded in face and body. Her milk-chocolate face
is surmounted by short, sparse hair, almost milk white. She is somewhat
deaf but understands questions asked her, responding with animation. She
walks with one crutch, being lame in the right leg. On events of the
long ago her mind is quite clear. Recalling the Confederate "sojers,
marchin', marchin'" to the drums, she beat a tempo on the floor with her
crutch. As she described how the hands of slaves were tied before they
were whipped for infractions she crossed her wrists.
Owen Gudger, Asheville postmaster (1913-21), member of the Buncombe
County Historical Association, now engaged in the real estate business,
says he has been acquainted with Aunt Sarah all his life; that he has,
on several occasions, talked to her about her age and early
associations, and that her responses concerning members of the Gudger
and Hemphill families coincide with known facts of the two families.
Interviewed by a member of the Federal Writers' Project, Aunt Sarah
seemed eager to talk, and needed but little prompting.
SARAH GUDGER
(born September 15, 1816)
Interview with Mrs. Marjorie Jones, May 5, 1937
I wah bo'n 'bout two mile fum Ole Fo't on de Ole Mo'ganton Road. I sho'
has had a ha'd life. Jes wok, an' wok, an' wok. I nebbah know nothin'
but wok. Mah boss he wah Ole Man Andy Hemphill. He had a la'ge
plantation in de valley. Plenty ob ebbathin'. All kine ob stock: hawgs,
cows, mules, an' hosses. When Marse Andy die I go lib wif he son,
William Hemphill.
I nebbah fo'git when Marse Andy die. He wah a good ole man, and de
Missie she wah good, too. She usta read de Bible t' us chillun afoah she
pass away.
Mah pappy, he lib wif Joe Gudgah (Gudger). He ole an' feeble, I
'membahs. He 'pend on mah pappy t' see aftah ebbathin' foah him. He
allus trust mah pappy. One mo'nin' he follah pappy to de field. Pappy he
stop hes wok and ole Marse Joe, he say: "Well, Smart (pappy, he name
Smart), I's tard, wurried, an' trubble'. All dese yeahs I wok foah mah
chillun. Dey nevah do de right thing. Dey wurries me, Smart. I tell yo',
Smart, I's a good mind t' put mahself away. I's good mind t' drown
mahself right heah. I tebble wurried, Smart."
Pappy he take hole Ole Marse Joe an' lead him t' de house. "Now Marse
Joe, I wudden talk sich talk effen I's yo'. Yo' ben good t' yo' fambly.
Jest yo' content yo'self an' rest."
But a few days aftah dat, Ole Marse Joe wah found ahangin' in de ba'n by
de bridle. Ole Marse had put heself away.
No'm, I nebbah knowed whut it wah t' rest. I jes wok all de time f'om
mawnin' till late at night. I had t' do ebbathin' dey wah t' do on de
outside. Wok in de field, chop wood, hoe cawn, till sometime I feels lak
mah back sholy break. I done ebbathin' 'cept split rails. Yo' know, dey
split rails back in dem days. Well, I nevah did split no rails.
Ole Marse strop us good effen we did anythin' he didn' lak. Sometime he
get hes dandah up an' den we dassent look roun' at him. Else he tie yo'
hands afoah yo' body an' whup yo', jes lak yo' a mule. Lawdy, honey, I's
tuk a thousand lashins in mah day. Sometimes mah poah ole body be soah
foah a week.
Ole Boss he send us niggahs out in any kine ob weathah, rain o' snow, it
nebbah mattah. We had t' go t' de mountings, cut wood an' drag it down
t' de house. Many de time we come in wif ouh cloes stuck t' ouh poah ole
cold bodies, but 'twarn't no use t' try t' git 'em dry. Ef de Ole Boss
o' de Ole Missie see us dey yell: "Git on out ob heah yo' black thin',
an' git yo' wok outen de way!" An' Lawdy, honey, we knowed t' git, else
we git de lash. Dey did'n cah how ole o' how young yo' wah, yo' nebbah
too big t' git de lash.
De rich white folks nebbah did no wok; dey had da'kies t' do it foah
dem. In de summah we had t' wok outdoo's, in de wintah in de house. I
had t' ceard an' spin till ten o'clock. Nebbah git much rest, had t' git
up at foah de nex' mawnin' an' sta't agin. Didn' get much t' eat,
nuthah, jes a lil' cawn bread an' 'lasses. Lawdy, honey, yo' caint know
whut a time I had. All cold n' hungry. No'm, I aint tellin' no lies. It
de gospel truf. It sho is.
I 'membah well how I use t' lie 'wake till all de folks wah sleepin',
den creep outen de do' and walk barfoot in de snow, 'bout two mile t'
mah ole Auntie's house. I knowed when I git dar she fix hot cawn pone
wif slice o' meat an' some milk foah me t' eat. Auntie wah good t' us
da'kies.
I nebbah sleep on a bedstead till aftah freedom, no'm till [HW:
asterisk] aftah freedom. Jes' an ole pile o' rags in de conah. Ha'dly
'nuf t' keep us from freezin'. Law, chile, nobuddy knows how mean
da'kies wah treated. Wy, dey wah bettah t' de animals den t' us'ns. Mah
fust Ole Marse wah a good ole man, but de las'n, he wah rapid--- he sho
wah rapid. Wy, chile, times aint no mo' lak dey usta be den de day an'
night am lak. In mah day an' time all de folks woked. Effen dey had no
niggahs dey woked demselves. Effen de chillun wah too small tuh hoe, dey
pull weeds. Now de big bottom ob de Swannano (Swannanoa) dat usta grow
hunners bushels ob grain am jest a playgroun'. I lak t' see de chillun
in de field. Wy, now dey fight yo' lak wilecat effen it ebben talked
'bout. Dat's de reason times so ha'd. No fahmin'. Wy, I c'n 'membah Ole
Missie she say: "Dis gene'ation'll pass away an' a new gene'ation'll cum
'long." Dat's jes' it--ebbah gene'ation gits weakah an' weakah. Den dey
talk 'bout goin' back t' ole times. Dat time done gone, dey nebbah meet
dat time agin.
Wahn't none o' de slaves offen ouh plantation ebbah sold, but de ones on
de othah plantation ob Marse William wah. Oh, dat wah a tebble time! All
de slaves be in de field, plowin', hoein', singin' in de boilin' sun.
Ole Marse he cum t'ru de field wif a man call de specalater. Day walk
round jes' lookin', jes'lookin', All de da'kies know whut dis mean. Dey
didn' dare look up, jes' wok right on. Den de specalater he see who he
want. He talk to Ole Marse, den dey slaps de han'cuffs on him an' tak
him away to de cotton country. Oh, dem wah awful times! When de
specalater wah ready to go wif de slaves, effen dey wha enny whu didn'
wanta go, he thrash em, den tie em 'hind de waggin an' mek em run till
dey fall on de groun', den he thrash em till dey say dey go 'thout no
trubble. Sometime some of dem run 'way an cum back t' de plantation, den
it wah hardah on dem den befoah. When de da'kies wen' t' dinnah de ole
niggah mammy she say whar am sich an' sich. None ob de othahs wanna tell
huh. But when she see dem look down to de groun' she jes' say: "De
specalater, de specalater." Den de teahs roll down huh cheeks, cause
mebbe it huh son o' husban' an' she know she nebbah see 'em agin. Mebbe
dey leaves babies t' home, mebbe jes' pappy an' mammy. Oh, mah Lawdy,
mah ole Boss wah mean, but he nebbah sen' us to de cotton country.
Dey wah ve'y few skules back in day day an time, ve'y few. We da'kies
didn' dah look at no book, not ebben t' pick it up. Ole Missie, dat is,
mah firs' Ole Missie, she wah a good ole woman. She read to de niggahs
and t' de white chillun. She cum fum cross de watah. She wahn't lak de
sma't white folks livin' heah now. When she come ovah heah she brung
darky boy wif huh. He wah huh pussonal su'vant. Co'se, dey got diffent
names foah dem now, but in dat day dey calls 'em ginney niggahs. She wah
good ole woman, not lak othah white folks. Niggahs lak Ole Missie.
When de da'kies git sick, dey wah put in a lil' ole house close t' de
big house, an' one of the othah da'kies waited on 'em. Dey wah ve'y few
doctahs den. Ony three in de whole section. When dey wanted med'cine dey
went t' de woods an' gathahed hoahhound, slipperelm foah poltices an'
all kinds ba'k foah teas. All dis yarbs bring yo' round. Dey wah ve'y
few lawyers den too, but lawsy me, yo' cain't turn round fer dem now.
I 'membahs when mah ole mammy die. She live on Rims (Reems) Crick with
othah Hemphills. She sick long time. One day white man cum t' see me. He
say: "Sarah, did yo' know yo' manmy wah daid?" "No," I say, "but I wants
t' see mah mothah afoah dey puts huh away."
I went t' de house and say t' Ole Missie: "Mah mothah she die tofay. I
wants t' see mah mothah afoah dey puts huh away," but she look at me
mean an' say: "Git on outen heah, an' git back to yo' wok afoah I wallup
yo' good." So I went back t' mah wok, with the tears streamin' down mah
face, jest awringin' mah hands, I wanted t' see mah manmy so. 'Bout two
weeks latah, Ole Missie she git tebble sick, she jes' lingah 'long foah
long time, but she nebbah gits up no mo'. Wa'nt long afoah dey puts huh
away too, jes' lak mah mammy.
I 'membahs de time when mah mammy wah alive, I wah a small chile, afoah
dey tuk huh t' Rims Crick. All us chilluns wah playin' in de ya'd one
night. Jes' arunnin' an' aplayin' lak chillun will. All a sudden mammy
cum to de do' all a'sited. "Cum in heah dis minnit," she say. "Jes look
up at what is ahappenin'", and bless yo' life, honey, de sta's wah
fallin' jes' lak rain.[7] Mammy wah tebble skeered, but we chillun
wa'nt afeard, no, we wa'nt afeard. But mammy she say evah time a sta'
fall, somebuddy gonna die. Look lak lotta folks gonna die f'om de looks
ob dem sta's. Ebbathin' wah jes' as bright as day. Yo' cudda pick a pin
up. Yo' know de sta's don' shine as bright as dey did back den. I wondah
wy dey don'. Dey jes' don' shine as bright. Wa'nt long afoah dey took
mah mammy away, and I wah lef' alone.
On de plantation wah an ole woman whut de boss bought f'om a drovah up
in Virginny. De boss he bought huh f'om one ob de specalaters. She laff
an' tell us: "Some ob dese days yo'all gwine be free, jes' lak de white
folks," but we all laff at huh. No, we jes' slaves, we allus hafta wok
and nevah be free. Den when freedom cum, she say: "I tole yo'all, now
yo' got no larnin', yo' got no nothin', got no home; whut yo' gwine do?
Didn' I tell yo'?"
I wah gittin along smartly in yeahs when de wah cum. Ah 'membah jes' lak
yestiddy jes' afoah de wah. Marse William wah atalkin' t' hes brothah. I
wah standin' off a piece. Marse's brothah, he say: "William, how ole
Aunt Sarah now?" Marse William look at me an' he say: "She gittin' nigh
onta fifty." Dat wah jes' a lil while afoah de wah.
Dat wah awful time. Us da'kies didn' know whut it wah all bout. Ony one
of de boys f'om de plantation go. He Alexander, he 'bout twenty-five
den. Many de time we git word de Yankees comin'. We take ouh food an'
stock an' hide it till we sho' dey's gone. We wan't bothahed much. One
day, I nebbah fo'git, we look out an' see sojers ma'chin'; look lak de
whole valley full ob dem. I thought: "Poah helpless crittahs, jes' goin'
away t' git kilt." De drums wah beatin' an' de fifes aplayin'. Dey wah
de foot comp'ny. Oh, glory, it wah a sight. Sometime dey cum home on
furlough. Sometime dey git kilt afoah dey gits th'ough. Alexander, he
cum home a few time afoah freedom.
When de wah was ovah, Marse William he say: "Did yo'all know yo'all's
free, Yo' free now." I chuckle, 'membahin' whut ole woman tell us 'bout
freedom, an' no larnin. Lotta men want me t' go t' foreign land, but I
tell 'em I go live wif mah pappy, long as he live. I stay wif de white
folks 'bout twelve months, den I stay wif mah pappy, long as he live.
I had two brothahs, dey went t' Califonny, nebbah seed 'em no mo', no'
mah sistah, nuther. I cain't 'membah sech a lot 'bout it all. I jes'
knows I'se bo'n and bred heah [HW correction: here] in dese pa'ts,
nebbah been outten it. I'se well; nebbah take no doctah med'cine. Jes'
ben sick once; dat aftah freedom.
[Footnote 7: (One of the most spectacular meteoric showers on record,
visible all over North America, occurred in 1833.)]
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