Solbert Butler
From:
South Carolina
Project #-1655
Phoebe Faucette
Hampton County
Approx. 800 Words
SOLBERT BUTLER EX-SLAVE OF 82 YEARS
Miles from the highway old Solbert Butler lives alone under the shadow
of the handsome winter home of an aged northerner upon the same soil
that he has seen pass from Southerner to Negro, to Southerner, to
Northerner. Though shrunken and bent with age he still enjoys talking.
"I lives in de Deer Country. A couple of months ago, I saw eight in a
drove at one time, like a drove of sheep, or sech like. You can't raise
nuthin' 'round here. Dey'll eat up your garden. And de wild turkey! And
de partridge! But you can't shoot 'em without de Cassels give you a
license to do it. Now he comin' next month and dere'll be more shootin'!
But he aint able to hunt none hisself. He kin ride 'bout in de woods in
de car. Dey are blessed people, though!
"Dis used to be de Bostick place. Old Massa Ben Bostick lived fourteen
miles from here. Dere was Ben Bostick, Iva Bostick, Joe Bostick, Mr.
Luther, Eddie Bostick, an' Jennie Jo Bostick. De place was divided up
between 'em. O-oh! I couldn't number de plantations old Mr. Bostick
owned. I think he owned fifteen plantations! He was de millinery
(millionaire)! Oh, de Bosticks, O-oh!! De house dey live in, dey call
um--what was it dey call um--de Paradise house. No one go to dat house
but only de rich.
"At Christmas dey'd go up dere. And oh, I couldn't number it! Oh, it was
paradise. He was good to 'em. An' he whip 'em good, too! Tie 'em to de
fence post and whip 'em. But I didn't' have anythin' of dat. I was a
little boy. Jes' 'bout six year old when de war broke out. But I got
plenty of whippin's all right.
"Massa take me as a little boy as a pet. Took me right in de carriage!
Had a little bed right by his own an' take care of me. Every morning dey
bring in dey tray, an' go back. My uncle was a carriage man. Dey kept
two fine horses jes' for de carriage. Massa'd come up to de Street every
Monday morning with big trays of rations. He'd feed his colored folk,
den go on back."
(Another old ex-slave from the same plantation had said that on Mondays
the week's rations were given out.)
"Dey planted cotton, corn, peas, potatoes, rice--an' dey'd lick you! All
de time, dey'd lick you. After dey'd lick 'em until de blood come out,
den dey'd rub de red pepper and salt on 'em. Oh, my God! Kin you say dem
as done sech as dat aint gone to deir reward? My uncle was so whip he
went into de woods, an' live dere for months. Had to learn de
independent life. Mr. Aldridge was de overseer. Old Mr. Aldridge gone
now. But dere can't be no rest for him. Oh my God no! He do 'em so mean
dat finally ole Massa hear 'bout it. And when he do hear 'bout it, he
discharged him. He had everything discharged--to de colored driver. Den
he got Mr. Chisolm. After Mr. Chisolm come in, everythin' jes' as sweet
an' smooth as could be! Dere's a nice set of people for you--de
Chisolms. Two of 'em livin' now. One at Garnett, an' one at Luray, I
believe.
"I refugeed wid Massa. Dey come together in Virginia. Dey surrendered in
Virginia. Set de house afire. And set all dey houses. Dey burned Massa's
cotton. Over 200 bales! But if'n de colored folks begged for some, dey
let 'em have some. I stayed right wid Massa. He carried me everywhere he
went. Carried me all de way to Mill Haven, Georgia.
"After de war de colored folks jes' took an' plant de crop an' make de
livin' wid de hoe. Didn't have no mule, no ox, or thin' like dat. When
ole Massa come back, he took de cotton, an' give de colored folks de
corn. De Yankees kill all de hog. Kill all de cow. Kill all de fowl.
Left you nothin' to eat. If de colored folk had any chicken, dey jes'
had to take dat an' try to raise 'em somethin' to eat.
"I'se a Methodist. I was converted under Elder Drayton--come from
Georgia at St. Luke Methodist Church on de Blake Plantation. De Blake
Plantation right dere. It jines dis one. De ole Methodist white folk's
church where I was baptized been take down. It was called de Union
Church. But de cemetery still dere. It right up dere not a mile down de
road. Dere was a good ole preacher name of Rev. Winborn Asa Lawton. An'
de camp meetin'! Oh, Lord, Lord! Dey had over a thousand dere. Come from
Orangeburg. Come from Aiken! An' come way from Cheraw! Come from
Charleston, Beaufort, and Savannah! De colored folks got a church now
up here on what used to be de Pipe Creek place of ole Ben Bostick where
de white folks used to have a Baptist church. De colored folks church
call it Kenyon Church. Dat's de church dey white folks moved to
Lawtonville, den to Estill. But when de colored folks built, dey built
de church to face de East. Built on de same foundation; but face it
east, facing a little road dat had sprung up and wind 'round dat way
right in close to de church. But de white folks church was face west,
facing de Augusta road. Dat big space twixt de road and de church was a
grove.
"Ghosts? I used to 'em. I see 'em all de time. Good company! I live over
dere by myself, an' dey comes in my house all de time. Sometime I walk
along at night an' I see 'em. An' when you see 'em you see a sight. Dey
play. Dey dance 'round an' 'round. Dey happy all right. But dey'll devil
you, too. When dey find out dat you scary, dey'll devil you. Dey don't
do nothin' to me. Only talk to me. I'll be in my house an' dey'll come
talk to me. Or I'll be walkin' down de road, an' meet 'em. Dey'll pass
de time of day wid me, Like:
'Hey, Solbert! How far you goin', Solbert?'
'I'se jes' goin' down de road a little piece,' I'll say.
'Uh-huh'.
"Or sometime dey'll say, 'Mornin', Solbert. How you feeling?'
'I'se jes' so so'.
'Uh-huh'.
"Dey all favors. Dey all looks alike. You remembers when dat car come
down de road jes' now? Well, I see a bunch of 'em right den! Dey get out
de road for dat car to pass. Oh, you can't see 'em. No matter how much I
shows 'em to you--you can't see 'em. But me! Dey swell wid me. I see 'em
all de time. De big house up dere. It full of 'em. De white folks see
'em, too. Dat is some of de white folks. I see de other day a white man
dat has to work up here start toward de house when de ghosts was comin'
out thick. When I tell him you ought to see him turn an' run. One of 'em
push me over in de ditch one time. I say,
'Now what you done dat for?'
'Well, dat aint nothin''
'Aint nothin'. But don't you do dat no more.'
"I talks to 'em jes' de same as if dey was somebody. Some folks outgrows
'em. But not me. You have to be born to see 'em. If'n you be born
wrapped in de caul, you kin see 'em. But if you aint, you can't see
'em."
Source: Solbert Butler, 82 years, R. F. D. Scotia, S. C.
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