William Mcwhorter
From:
Georgia
PLANTATION LIFE AS VIEWED BY EX-SLAVE
WILLIAM McWHORTER, Age 78
383 W. Broad Street
Athens, Georgia
Written by:
Mrs. Sadie B. Hornsby
Athens
Edited by:
Mrs. Sarah H. Hall
Athens
and
John N. Booth
District Supervisor
Federal Writers'
Project
Residencies 6 & 7
Augusta, Ga.
Sept. 30, 1938
The rambling, one-story frame building where William McWhorter makes his
home with his cousin, Sarah Craddock, houses several families and is
proudly referred to by the neighbors as "de 'partment house."
William, better known as "Shug," is a very black man of medium build. He
wore a black slouch hat pulled well down over tangled gray hair, a dingy
blue shirt, soiled gray pants, and black shoes. The smile faded from his
face when he learned the nature of the visit. "I thought you was de
pension lady 'comin' to fetch me some money," he said, "and 'stid of dat
you wants to know 'bout slavery days. I'se disapp'inted.
"Mistess, it's been a long time since I was born on Marse Joe
McWhorter's plantation down in Greene County and I was jus' a little
fellow when slavery was done over wid. Allen and Martha McWhorter was my
ma and pa. Pa, he was de carriage driver, and ma, she was a field hand.
Dey brought her here from Oingebug (Orangeburg), South Carolina, and
sold her to Marse Joe when she was jus' a little gal. Me and Annie,
Ella, Jim, and Tom was all de chillun in our fambly, and none of us
warn't big enough to do no wuk to speak of 'fore de end of de big war.
You see, Mistess, it was lak dis; Marse Joe, he owned a old 'oman what
didn't do nothin' 'cept stay at de house and look atter us chillun, and
dat was one of dem plantations whar dere was sho a heap of slave
chillun.
"'Bout our houses? Mistess, I'se gwine to tell you de trufe, dem houses
slaves had to live in, dey warn't much, but us didn't know no better
den. Dey was jus' one-room log cabins wid stick and dirt chimblies. De
beds for slaves was home-made and was held together wid cords wove evvy
which away. If you didn't tighten dem cords up pretty offen your bed was
apt to fall down wid you. Suggin sacks was sewed together to make our
mattress ticks and dem ticks was filled wid straw. Now, don't tell me
you ain't heared of suggin sacks a-fore! Dem was coarse sacks sort of
lak de guano sacks us uses now. Dey crowded jus' as many Niggers into
each cabin as could sleep in one room, and marriage never meant a thing
in dem days when dey was 'rangin' sleepin' quarters for slaves. Why, I
knowed a man what had two wives livin' in de same cabin; one of dem
'omans had all boys and t'other one didn't have nothin' but gals. It's
nigh de same way now, but dey don't live in de same house if a man's got
two famblies.
"I 'members dat my pa's ma, Grandma Cindy, was a field hand, but by de
time I was old 'nough to take things in she was too old for dat sort of
wuk and Marster let her do odd jobs 'round de big house. De most I seed
her doin' was settin' 'round smokin' her old corncob pipe. I was named
for Grandpa Billy, but I never seed him.
"Mistess, does you know what you'se axin'? Whar was slaves to git money
whilst dey was still slaves? Dere warn't but a few of 'em dat knowed
what money even looked lak 'til atter dey was made free.
"Now, you is talkin' 'bout somepin sho 'nough when you starts 'bout dem
victuals. Marse Joe, he give us plenty of sich as collards, turnips and
greens, peas, 'taters, meat, and cornbread. Lots of de cornbread was
baked in pones on spiders, but ashcakes was a mighty go in dem days.
Marster raised lots of cane so as to have plenty of good syrup. My pa
used to 'possum hunt lots and he was 'lowed to keep a good 'possum hound
to trail 'em wid. Rabbits and squirrels was plentiful and dey made
mighty good eatin'. You ain't never seed sich heaps of fish as slaves
used to fetch back atter a little time spent fishin' in de cricks and de
river.
"De kitchen was sot off from de big house a little piece, but Old
Marster had a roof built over de walkway so fallin' weather wouldn't
spile de victuals whilst dey was bein' toted from de kitchen in de yard
to de dinin' room in de big house. I don't reckon you ever seed as big a
fireplace as de one dey cooked on in dat old kitchen. It had plenty of
room for enough pots, skillets, spiders, and ovens to cook for all de
folks on dat plantation. No, mam, slaves never had no gardens of deir
own; dey never had no time of deir own to wuk no garden, but Old Marster
fed 'em from his garden and dat was big enough to raise plenty for all.
"De one little cotton shirt dat was all chillun wore in summertime den
warn't worth talkin' 'bout; dey called it a shirt but it looked more lak
a long-tailed nightgown to me. For winter, our clothes was made of wool
cloth and dey was nice and warm. Mistess, slaves never knowed what
Sunday clothes was, 'cept dey did know dey had to be clean on Sunday. No
matter how dirty you went in de week-a-days, you had to put on clean
clothes Sunday mornin'. Uncle John Craddock made shoes for all de grown
folks on our plantation, but chillun went barfoots and it never seemed
to make 'em sick; for a fact, I b'lieves dey was stouter den dan dey is
now.
"Marse Joe McWhorter and his wife, Miss Emily Key, owned us, and dey was
jus' as good to us as dey could be. Mistess, you knows white folks had
to make slaves what b'longed to 'em mind and be-have deyselfs in dem
days or else dere woulda been a heap of trouble. De big fine house what
Marse Joe and his fambly lived in sot in a cedar grove and Woodville was
de town nighest de place. Oh! Yes, mam, dey had a overseer all right,
but I'se done forgot his name, and somehow I can't git up de names of
Marse Joe's chillun. I'se been sick so long my mem'ry ain't as good as
it used to be, and since I lost my old 'oman 'bout 2 months ago, I don't
'spect I ever kin reckomember much no more. It seems lak I'se done told
you my pa was Marse Joe's carriage driver. He driv de fambly
whar-some-ever dey wanted to go.
"I ain't got no idee how many acres was in dat great big old plantation,
but I'se heared 'em say Marse Joe had to keep from 30 to 40 slaves, not
countin' chillun, to wuk dat part of it dat was cleared land. Dey told
me, atter I was old enough to take it in, dat de overseer sho did drive
dem slaves; dey had to be up and in de field 'fore sunup and he wuked
'em 'til slap, black dark. When dey got back to de big house, 'fore dey
et supper, de overseer got out his big bull whip and beat de ones dat
hadn't done to suit him durin' de day. He made 'em strip off deir
clothes down to de waist, and evvywhar dat old bull whip struck it split
de skin. Dat was awful, awful! Sometimes slaves dat had been beat and
butchered up so bad by dat overseer man would run away, and next day
Aunt Suke would be sho to go down to de spring to wash so she could
leave some old clothes dar for 'em to git at night. I'se tellin' you,
slaves sho did fare common in dem days.
"My Aunt Mary b'longed to Marse John Craddock and when his wife died and
left a little baby--dat was little Miss Lucy--Aunt Mary was nussin' a
new baby of her own, so Marse John made her let his baby suck too. If
Aunt Mary was feedin' her own baby and Miss Lucy started cryin' Marse
John would snatch her baby up by the legs and spank him, and tell Aunt
Mary to go on and nuss his baby fust. Aunt Mary couldn't answer him a
word, but my ma said she offen seed Aunt Mary cry 'til de tears met
under her chin.
"I ain't never heared nothin' 'bout no jails in slavery time. What dey
done den was 'most beat de life out of de Niggers to make 'em be-have.
Ma was brung to Bairdstown and sold on de block to Marse Joe long 'fore
I was borned, but I ain't never seed no slaves sold. Lordy, Mistess,
ain't nobody never told you it was agin de law to larn a Nigger to read
and write in slavery time? White folks would chop your hands off for dat
quicker dan dey would for 'most anything else. Dat's jus' a sayin',
'chop your hands off.' Why, Mistess, a Nigger widout no hands wouldn't
be able to wuk much, and his owner couldn't sell him for nigh as much as
he could git for a slave wid good hands. Dey jus' beat 'em up bad when
dey cotched 'em studyin' readin' and writin', but folks did tell 'bout
some of de owners dat cut off one finger evvy time dey cotch a slave
tryin' to git larnin'. How-some-ever, dere was some Niggers dat wanted
larnin' so bad dey would slip out at night and meet in a deep gully whar
dey would study by de light of light'ood torches; but one thing sho, dey
better not let no white folks find out 'bout it, and if dey was lucky
'nough to be able to keep it up 'til dey larned to read de Bible, dey
kept it a close secret.
"Slaves warn't 'lowed to have no churches of dey own and dey had to go
to church wid de white folks. Dere warn't no room for chillun in de
Baptist church at Bairdstown whar Marse Joe tuk his grown-up slaves to
meetin', so I never did git to go to none, but he used to take my ma
along, but she was baptized by a white preacher when she jined up wid
dat church. De crick was nigh de church and dat was whar dey done de
baptizin'.
"None of our Niggers never knowed enough 'bout de North to run off up
dar. Lak I done told you, some of 'em did run off atter a bad beatin',
but dey jus' went to de woods. Some of 'em come right on back, but some
didn't; Us never knowed whar dem what didn't come back went. Show me a
slavery-time Nigger dat ain't heared 'bout paterollers! Mistess, I 'clar
to goodness, paterollers was de devil's own hosses. If dey cotched a
Nigger out and his Marster hadn't fixed him up wid a pass, it was jus'
too bad; dey most kilt him. You couldn't even go to de Lord's house on
Sunday 'less you had a ticket sayin': 'Dis Nigger is de propity of Marse
Joe McWhorter. Let him go.'
"Dere warn't never no let-up when it come to wuk. When slaves come in
from de fields atter sundown and tended de stock and et supper, de mens
still had to shuck corn, mend hoss collars, cut wood, and sich lak; de
'omans mended clothes, spun thread, wove cloth, and some of 'em had to
go up to de big house and nuss de white folks' babies. One night my ma
had been nussin' one of dem white babies, and atter it dozed off to
sleep she went to lay it in its little bed. De child's foot cotch itself
in Marse Joe's galluses dat he had done hung on de foot of de bed, and
when he heared his baby cry Marse Joe woke up and grabbed up a stick of
wood and beat ma over de head 'til he 'most kilt her. Ma never did seem
right atter dat and when she died she still had a big old knot on her
head.
"Dey said on some plantations slaves was let off from wuk when de dinner
bell rung on Saddays, but not on our'n; dere warn't never no let-up 'til
sundown on Sadday nights atter dey had tended to de stock and et supper.
On Sundays dey was 'lowed to visit 'round a little atter dey had 'tended
church, but dey still had to be keerful to have a pass wid 'em. Marse
Joe let his slaves have one day for holiday at Christmas and he give 'em
plenty of extra good somepin t'eat and drink on dat special day. New
Year's Day was de hardest day of de whole year, for de overseer jus'
tried hisself to see how hard he could drive de Niggers dat day, and
when de wuk was all done de day ended off wid a big pot of cornfield
peas and hog jowl to eat for luck. Dat was s'posed to be a sign of
plenty too.
"Cornshuckin's was a mighty go dem days, and folks from miles and miles
around was axed. When de wuk was done dey had a big time eatin',
drinkin', wrestlin', dancin', and all sorts of frolickin'. Even wid all
dat liquor flowin' so free at cornshuckin's I never heared of nobody
gittin' mad, and Marse Joe never said a cross word at his cornshuckin's.
He allus picked bright moonshiny nights for dem big cotton pickin's, and
dere warn't nothin' short 'bout de big eats dat was waitin' for dem
Niggers when de cotton was all picked out. De young folks danced and cut
up evvy chanct dey got and called deyselfs havin' a big time.
"Games? Well, 'bout de biggest things us played when I was a chap was
baseball, softball, and marbles. Us made our own marbles out of clay and
baked 'em in de sun, and our baseballs and softballs was made out of
rags.
"Does I know anything 'bout ghosties? Yes, mam, I sees ha'nts and
ghosties any time. Jus' t'other night I seed a man widout no head, and
de old witches 'most nigh rides me to death. One of 'em got holt of me
night 'fore last and 'most choked me to death; she was in de form of a
black cat. Mistess, some folks say dat to see things lak dat is a sign
your blood is out of order. Now, me, I don't know what makes me see 'em.
"Marse Joe tuk mighty good keer of sick slaves. He allus called in a
doctor for 'em, and kept plenty of castor ile, turpentine, and de lak on
hand to dose 'em wid. Miss Emily made teas out of a heap of sorts of
leaves, barks, and roots, sich as butterfly root, pine tops, mullein,
catnip and mint leaves, feverfew grass, red oak bark, slippery ellum
bark, and black gum chips. Most evvybody had to wear little sacks of
papaw seeds or of assyfizzy (asafetida) 'round deir necks to keep off
diseases.
"Dey used to say dat a free Nigger from de North come through de South
and seed how de white folks was treatin' his race, den he went back up
der and told folks 'bout it and axed 'em to holp do somepin' 'bout it.
Dat's what I heared tell was de way de big war got started dat ended in
settin' slaves free. My folks said dat when de Yankee sojers come
through, Miss Emily was cryin' and takin' on to beat de band. She had
all her silver in her apron and didn't know whar to hide it, so atter
awhile she handed it to her cook and told her to hide it. De cook put it
in de woodpile. De Yankee mens broke in de smokehouse, brought out meat
and lard, kilt chickens, driv off cows and hosses, but dey never found
Miss Emily's silver. It was a long time 'fore our fambly left Marse
Joe's place.
"Marse Joe never did tell his Niggers dey was free. One day one of dem
Yankee sojers rid through de fields whar dey was wukin' and he axed 'em
if dey didn't know dey was as free as deir Marster. Dat Yankee kept on
talkin' and told em dey didn't have to stay on wid Marse Joe 'less dey
wanted to, end dey didn't have to do nothin' nobody told 'em to if dey
didn't want to do it. He said dey was deir own bosses and was to do as
dey pleased from de time of de surrender.
"Schools was sot up for slaves not long atter dey was sot free, and a
few of de old Marsters give deir Niggers a little land, but not many of
'em done dat. Jus' as de Niggers was branchin' out and startin' to live
lak free folks, dem nightriders come 'long beatin', cuttin', and
slashin' 'em up, but I 'spects some of dem Niggers needed evvy lick dey
got.
"Now, Mistess, you knows all Niggers would ruther be free, and I ain't
no diffunt from nobody else 'bout dat. Yes, mam, I'se mighty glad Mr.
Abraham Lincoln and Jeff Davis fit 'til dey sot us free. Dat Jeff Davis
ought to be 'shamed of hisself to want Niggers kept in bondage; dey says
dough, dat he was a mighty good man, and Miss Millie Rutherford said
some fine things 'bout him in her book what Sarah read to me, but you
can't 'spect us Niggers to b'lieve he was so awful good.
"Me and Rosa Barrow had a pretty fair weddin' and a mighty fine supper.
I don't ricollect what she had on, but I'se tellin' you she looked
pretty and sweet to me. Our two boys and three gals is done growed up
and I'se got three grandchillun now. Rosa, she died out 'bout 2 months
ago and I'se gwine to marry agin soon as I finds somebody to take keer
of me.
"I was happier de day I jined de church at Sander's Chapel, dan I'se
been since. It was de joyfullest day of all my life, so far. Folks ought
to git ready for a better world dan dis to live in when dey is finished
on dis earth, and I'se sho glad our Good Lord saw fit to set us free
from sin end slavery. If he hadn't done it, I sho would have been dead
long ago. Yistidday I picked a little cotton to git me some bread, and
it laid me out. I can't wuk no more. I don't know how de Blessed Lord
means to provide for me but I feels sho He ain't gwine to let me
perish."
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Matilda Mckinney
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