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Miscellaneous Transcriptions of Federal Writers' Project: Slave Narrative Project (1937)
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Transcription from: Federal Writers' Project: Slave Narrative Project, Vol. 17, Virginia, Berry-Wilson. 1937.
Manuscript/Mixed Material, images 4-9. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, .
Interview of Mrs. Fannie Berry, Ex-slave
861 E. Bank Street - Petersburg, Virginia
By Susie Byrd, Petersburg, Virginia
Date-----February 26, 1937
NAT TURNER
Back 'fore the sixties, I can 'member my Mistress, Miss Sara Ann,
comin' to de window an' hollerin', "De niggers is arisin'! De niggers is
arisin'! De niggers is killin' all de white folks, killin' all de babies
in de cradle!" It must have been Nat Turner's Insurrection; which wuz
sometime 'fo de breakin' of de Civil War.
I wuz waitin' on table in dinin' room an' dis day dey had finished
eatin' early an' I wuz cleanin' off table. Don't you know I must have
been a good size gal.
JOHN BROWN
Yes, I 'member somethin' 'bout him too. I know my Master came home
an' said, dat on his way to de gallows ole John stopped an' kissed a
little nigger child. "How com' I don't 'member? Don't tell me I don't
'cause I do. I don't care if its done bin a thousand years." I know
what Master said an' it is as fresh in my mind as it wuz dat day. Dis is
de song I herd my Master sing:
Old John Brown came to Harpers Ferry Town,
Purpose to raise an insurrection;
Old Governor Wise put the specks upon his eyes
An' showed him the happy land of Canaan.
INVENTION
My Master tole us dat de niggers started the railroad, an' dat a
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nigger lookin' at a boilin' coffee pot on a stove one day got the idea
dat he could cause it to run by putting wheels on it. Dis nigger being
a blacksmith put his thoughts into action by makin' wheels an' put coffee
on it, an' by some kinder means he made it run an' the idea wuz stole
from him an' dey built de steamengine.
RELATIONSHIP
I wuz one slave dat de poor white man had his match. See Miss Sue?
Dese here ol' white men said, "what I can't do by fair means I'll do by
foul." One tried to throw me, but he couldn't. We tusseled an' knocked
over chairs an' when I got a grip I scratched his face all to pieces; an
dar wuz no more bothering Fannie from him; but oh, honey, some slaves
would be beat up so, when dey resisted, an' sometimes if you'll 'belled
de overseer would kill yo'. Us Colored women had to go through a plenty,
I tell you.
MARRIAGE
Elder Williams married me in Miss Delia Mann's (white) parlor on de
crater road. The house still stands. The house wuz full of Colored people.
Miss Sue Jones an' Miss Molley Clark (white), waited on me. Dey took de
lamps an' we walked up to de preacher. One waiter joined my han' an' one
my husband's han'. After marriage de white folks give me a 'ception; an',
honey, talkin' 'bout a table--- hit wuz stretched clean 'cross de dinin'
room. We had everythin' to eat you could call for. No, didn't have no
common eats. We could sing in dar, an' dance ol' squar' dance all us choosed,
ha!ha!ha! Lord! Lord! I can see dem gals now on dat flo'; jes skippin' an' a
trottin'. An' honey, dar wuz no white folks to set down an' eat 'fo yo&.
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WAR
Now, Miss Sue, take up. I jes' like to talk to you, honey 'bout dem
days ob slavery; 'cause you look like you wan'ta hear all 'bout 'em. All
'bout de ol' rebels; an' dem niggers who left wid de Yankees an' were sat
free, but, poor things, dey had no place to go after dey got freed. Baby,
all us wuz helpless an' ain't had nothin'.
I wuz free a long time 'fo' I knew it. My Mistess still hired me out,
'til one day in talkin' to de woman she hired me to, she, "God bless her
soul", she told me, "Fannie yo' are free, an' I don't have to pay your Mas-
ter for you now." You stay with me. She didn't give me no money, but let
me stay there an' work for vitals an' clothes 'cause I ain't had no where
to go. Jesus, Jesus, God help us! Um, Um, Um! You Chillun don't know.
I didn't say nothin' when she wuz tellin' me, but done 'cided to leave her
an' go back to the white folks dat furst own* me.
I plan' to 'tend a big dance. Let me see, I think it wuz on a Thurs-
day night. Some how it tooken got out, you know how gals will talk an' it
got to ol' Bil Duffeys ears (ol' dog ) an', baby do you know, mind you
'twont slavery time, but de 'oman got so mad cause I runned away from her
dat she get a whole passel of 'em out looking for me; Dar wuz a boy, who
heard 'em talkin' an' sayin' dey wuz goin' to kill me if I were found. I
will never forget dis boy com' up to me while I wuz dancin' wid another
man an' sed, "nobody knowes where you ar', Miss Moore, dey is lookin' fer
you, an' is gwine kill you, so yo'come on wid me." Have mercy, have mercy
my Lord, honey, you kan jes 'magin' my feelin' fer a minute. I couldn't
move. You know de gals an' boys all got 'round me an' told me to go wid
Squareball, dat he would show me de way to my old Mistess house. Out we
tack, an' we ran one straight mile up de road, den through de woods, den
we had to go through a straw field. Dat field seem' like three miles.
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After den, we met another skit of woods. Miss Sue, baby my eyes, (ha!ha!ha!)
wuz bucked an' too if it is setch a thin' as being so scared yo' hair stand
on yo' head, I know, mine did. An' dat wasn't all, dat boy an' me puffed
an' sweated like bulls. Was feared to stop, cause we might have been
tracked.
At last we neared de house an' I started throwin' rocks on de porch.
Child I look an' heard dat white 'oman when she hit dat floor, bouncin' out
dat bed she mus' felt dat I wuz comin' back to her. She called all de men
an' had 'em throw a rope to me an' day drawed me up a piece to de window,
den I held my arms up an' dey snatched me in. Honey, Squareball fled to
de woods. I ain't never heard nothin' 'bout him. An' do you know, I didn't
leave day 'omen's house no more for fifteen years?
Lord! Lord!honey, Squreball an' I use to sing dis song.
"Twas 1861, the Yankees made de Rebels run
We'll all go stone blin'
When de Johny's come a marchin' home.
Child an' here's another one we use to sing. 'Member de war don'
bin when we would sing dese songs. Listen now:
Ain't no more blowin' of dat fo(?)
day horn
I will sing, brethern, I will sing.
A col' frosty mornin' de nigger's
mighty good
Take your ax upon your shoulder.
Nigger talk to de woods,
Ain't no mor' blowin' of dat fo(?)
day horn.
I will sing brethern, I will sing.
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SONG
Kimo, Kimo, dar you are
Heh, ho, rump to pume did'dle.
Set back pinkey wink,
Come Tom Nippecat
Sing song Kitty cat, can't
You carry me o'er?
2
Up de darkies head so bold
Sing song, Kitty, can't you
Carry me O'er?
Sing Song, Kitty, can't yo'
Carry me home?
I waz at Pamplin an' de Yankees an' Rebels were fightin' an' dey
were wavin' the bloody flag an' a confederate soldier wuz upon a post an'
they were shootin' terribly. Guns were firin' everywhere.
All a sudden dey struck up Yankee Doodle Song. A soldier came along and
called to me, " How far is it to the Rebels", an I honey, wuz feared to
tell him; So, I said, "I d on't know", He called me again. Scared to
death I was. I recollect gittin' behind the house an' pointed in the direction.
You see, ef de Rebels knew dat I told the soldier, they would have killed
me.
These were the Union men goin' after Lee's army which had don' bin
'fore dem to Appomattox.
The Colored regiment came up behind an' when they saw the Colored
regiment they put up the white flag. ( Yo' 'menber 'fo' dis red or bloody
flag was up). Now, do you know why dey raised dat white flag? Well,
honey, dat white flag wuz a token dat Lee, had surrendered.
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Glory! Glory! yes, child the Negroes are free, an' when they knew dat
dey were free dey, Oh! Baby! began to sing:
Mamy don't yo' cook no mo',
Yo' ar' free, yo' ar' free.
Rooster don't yo' crow no, mo',
Yo' ar' free, yo' ar' free,
Ol' hen, don't yo' lay no mo' eggs,
Yo' free, yo' free.
Sech rejoicing an' shoutin', you never he'rd in you' life.
Yes, I can recollect de blowin' up of the Crater. We had fled, but
I do know 'bout the shellin' of Petersburg. We left Petersburg when de
shellin' commenced an' went to Pamplin in box cars, gettin' out of de
way. Dem were scared times too, cause you looked to be kilt any minute
by stray bullets. Just before the shellin' of Petersburg, dey were sellin'
niggers for little nothin' hardly.
Junius Broadie, a white man bought some niggers, but dey didn't
stay slave long, cause de Yankees came an' sot 'em free.
Transcription from: Federal Writers' Project: Slave Narrative Project, Vol. 17, Virginia, Berry-Wilson. 1937.
Manuscript/Mixed Material, images 10-13. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, .
Interview of Mr. Charles Crawley, Ex-slave
By Susie Byrd Petersburg, Virginia
Date: February 20, 1937
7
THE STORY OF CHARLES CRAWLEY, EX-SLAVE
God knows, how old I am, All I know is, I wuz born 'fore de
war.
Yes, I wuz a slave an' belonged to a family of Allen's in
Luenburg County, came here to dis Petersburg de second week of
Lee's surrender.
My Marster and Mistess wuz good to me as well as all us
slaves. Dey owned 'bout fifty head of Colored People. All de work
I did wuz to play an' drive cows, being only a boy worked around as
chillun; doin' dis, an' dat, little things de white folks would
call me to do.
Marster Allen, owned my Mother, an' sister too; we emigrant
(emigrated) here, came to dis town of Petersburg after Lee's sur-
render, I mean you now de ending of de Civil War. My mother,
sister, and I came on down de road in a box car, which stopped out-
side de outskirts; hit didn't go through de city. Yes, I know when
de first railroads were built, de Norfolk and Western an' de
Atlantic Coast Line dey wer run through Petersburg an' in dem days
it wuz called de Southern.
Mis and Mars' Allen didn't want us to leave dat part of de
Country to come to dis here place down de road, but we comed our-
selves to make a home fo' ourselves. Well now, we worked here an'
dar, wid dis here man an' dat man; O, well, wid different people 'til
we bought us selves a home an' paid for it. Mother died right here
in dis here house; twelve years ago, dis comin' March 'leventh. I
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am yet livin' in dis same house, dat she an' us all labored an'
worked fo' by de sweat of our brow, an' wid dese hands, Lord! Lord!
Child dem days wuz some days. Le' me finish, baby, tellin' you 'bout
dis house. De groun' wuz bought from a lady (Colored) name Sis
Jackey, an' she wuz sometimes called in dem days de Mother of Har-
rison Street Baptis' Church. I recon dis church is de ol'est one
in Petersburg.
O, yes, honey, I can 'member when de Yankees came into dis town;
day broke in stores an' told all de niggers to go in an' git anything
dey wanted.
When slaves ran away dey wer brought back to their Master and
Mistess; when dey couldn't catch 'em they didn't bother, but let 'em
go. Sometimes de slaves would go an' take up an' live at tother
places; some of 'em lived in de woods off of takin' things, sech as
hogs, corn, an' vegetables from other folks farm. Well, if dese slaves
wuz caught, dey wer sold by their New Masters to go down South. Dey
tell me dem Masters down South, wuz so mean to slaves dey would let
'em work dem cotton fields 'til dey fall dead wid hoes in dare hands,
'en would beat dem. I'm glad to say, we had good owners.
There wuz a auction block, I saw right here in Petersburg on the
corner of Sycamore street and Bank street. Slaves were auctioned off
to de highest bidder. Some refused to be sold, By dat, I mean, "cried".
Lord! Lord! I done seen dem young'uns fout an d kick like crazy folks;
Child it wuz, pitiful to see 'em. Den dey would handcuff an' beat 'em
unmerciful. I don' like to talk 'bout back dar. It brun' a sad feelin'
up me. If slaves 'belled, I done seed dem whip 'em wid a strop cal'
"cat mine tails." Honey, dis strop wuz 'bout broad as yo' hand, from
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thum' to little finger, an' 'twas cut in strips up. Yo' done seen dese
whips dat they whip horses wid? Well dey wuz used too.
You sed somethin' 'bout how we served God. Um, um, child, I tell
you jest how we use to do. We use to worship at different houses. You
see you would git a remit to go to dese places. You would have to show
your remit. If de Pattyrollers, caught you dey would whip yo'. Dats
de wa' dey done in dem da's. Pattyrollers, is a gang of white men git-
ting together goin' through de country catching slaves, an' whipping an'
beatin' 'em up if dey had no remit. Marster Allen wouldn't 'llow no
one to whip an' beat his slaves, an' he would handle anybody if dey did;
so, Marster's slaves met an' worshipped from house to house, an honey,
we talked to My God all us wanted.
You know we use to call Marster Allen, Colonel Allen. His name wuz
Robert. He wuz a home general, an' a lawyer, too. When he went to court
any slave he said to free, wuz freed an' turned aloose. De white fo'ks
as, well as slaves obeyed Marster Allen.
Did you know poor whites like slaves had to git a pass? I mean, a
remit like as slaves, to sell anythin' an' to go places, or do anythin'.
Jest as we Colored People, dey had to go to some big white man like
Colonel Allen, dey did. If Marster wanted to, he would give dem a remit
or pass, an' if he didn't feel like it, he wouldn't do it. It wuz jes as
he felt 'bout hit. Dats what made all feared him. Ol' Marster wuz
more hard on dem poor white folks den he wuz on us niggers.
I don't know but two sets of white folks slaves up my way; one wuz
name Chatman, an' de tother one Nellovies. Dese two families worked on
Allen's farm as we did. Off from us on a plot called Morgan's lot,
there dey lived as slaves jes like us Colored fo'ks. Yes de poor white
man had some dark an' tough days, like us poor niggers; I mean wer'
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lashed an' treated, some of 'em, jes as pitiful an' unmerciful. Lord!
Lord! baby, I hope yo' young fo'ks will never know what slavery is, an'
will never suffer as yo' foreparents. O God! God! I'm livin' to tell
de tale to yo', honey. Yes, Jesus, yo've spared me.
For clothin' we wer' 'llowed two suits a year - one fer spring, an'
one fer winter, wuz all yo' had. De underclothes wer' made at home.
Yo' also got two pairs of shoes an' homemade hats an' caps. The white
fo'ks or your slave owners would teach dem who could catch on easy an'
dey would teach de other slaves, an' dats how dey kept all slaves
clothed. Our summer hats wer' made out of plaited straw, Underclothes
made out of sacks an' bags.
We had plenty of food sech as 'twas, cornbread, butter milk, sweet
potatoes in week days. Ha! Ha! honey, guess dats why niggers don't
like cornbread today; dey got a dislike for dat bread from back folks.
On Sunday we had biscuits, and sometimes a little extra food, which ol'
Mistess would send out to Mother fer us.
Fer as I think, if slavery had lasted, it would have been pretty
tough. As it wuz, some fared good, while others fared common. You know,
slaves who wer' beat an' treated bad; some of dem had started gittin' to-
gether an' killin' de white folks when dey carried dem out to de field to
work. God is punishin' some of dem ol' suckers an' their chillun right
now fer de way dey use to treat us poor Colored fo'ks.
I think by Negro gittin' educated he has profited, an' dis here
younger generation is gwine to take nothin' off dese here poor white folks
when dey don't treat dem right, cause now dis country is a free country; no
slavery now.
Transcription from: Federal Writers' Project: Slave Narrative Project, Vol. 17, Virginia, Berry-Wilson. 1937.
Manuscript/Mixed Material, images 14-18. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, .
Interview of Mrs. Minnie Fulkes - 459 E Byrne Street
Petersburg, Virginia
By -- Susue Byrd
March 5, 1937
I was born the twenty fifth of December and I am 77 years old. My mother
was a slave and she belonged to Dick Belcher in Chesterfield County. Old Dick
sold us again to Gelaspe Graves. 'Rember now fifteen of mother's chillun went
with her having de same master.
Honey, I don't like to talk 'bout dem times, 'cause my mother did suffer
misert. You know dar wuz an' overseer who use to tie mother up in de barn with
a rope aroun' her arms up over her head, while she stood on a block. Soon as dey
got her tied, dis block was moved an' her feet dangled, yo' know, couldn't tech
de flo'.
Dis ol' man, now, would start beatin' her nekkid 'til the blood run down
her back to her heels. I took an' seed th' whelps an' scars fer my own self wid
dese here two eyes. (This whip she said, "was a whip like dey use to use on
horses); it wuz a peice of leather 'bout as wide as my han' from little finger to
thumb. After dey had beat my muma all dey wanted another overseer. Lord, Lord, I
hate white people and de flood waters gwine drown some mo. Well honey dis man
would bathe her in salt and water. Don't you kno' dem places wuz a hurtin'.
Um, um.
I asked mother, what she done fer 'em to beat and do her so? She said,
"nothin'", tother than she refused to be wife to dis man."
An' muma say, "If he didn't treat her dis way a dozen times, it wasn't
nary one."
Mind you, now muma's marster didn't know dis wuz going on. You know, if
slaves would tell, why dem overseers would kill 'em.
An' she sed dat dey use to have meetings an' sing and pray an' th' ol'
paddy rollers would hear dem, so to keep th' sound from goin' out, slaves would
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put a great big iron pot at the door, an' you know some times dey would fer git
to put ol' pot dar an' the paddy rollers would come an' horse whip every las' one
of 'em, jes cause poor souls were praying to God to free 'em from dat awful bondage.
Ha! ha! ha! dar wuz one ol' brudder who studied fer 'em one day an' tol
all de slaves how to git even wid 'em.
He tol' 'em to tie grape vines an' other vines across th' road, den when de
Paddy rollers come galantin' wid their horses runnin' so fast you see dem vines
would tangle 'em up an' cause th' horses to stumble and fall. An' lots of times,
badly dey would break dere legs and horses too; one interval one ol' poor devil
got tangled so an' de horse kept a carryin' him, 'til he fell off horse and next
day a sucker was found in road whar dem vines wuz wind aroun' his neck so many
times yes had chok ed him, dey said, "He totely dead. Serve him right 'cause dem
ol' white folks treated us so mean.
Well, sometimes, you know dey would, the others of 'em, keep going 'til
dey fin' whar dis meeting wuz gwine on. Dey would come in and start whippin' an'
beatin' the slaves unmerciful. All dis wuz done to keep yo' from servin' God; an'
do you know some of dem devils wuz mean an' sinful 'nough to say. "Ef I ketch you
here agin servin' God I'll beat you. You haven't time to serve God. We bought you
to serve us. Um, um.
God's gwine 'rod dem wicket marsters. Ef hit 'taint 'em whut gits hit,
hits gonna fall on deir chillun.
In dem back days child, meetings wuz carried on jes like we do today, some-
whatly. Only difference is the slave dat knowed th' most 'bout de Bible would tell
and explain what God had told him in a vision (yo' young folks say, "dream")
dat dis freedom would come to pass; an' den dey prayed fer dis vision to come to
pass, an' dars whar de paddy rollers would whip 'em ag'in.
Lord! Lord dey, pew! pew! pew! Baby, "I jes kno' I could if I knowed how
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to write, an' had a little learning I could put off a book on dis here situation.
Yo' kno what I mean 'bout dese way back questions yo' is a asking me to tell yo'
'bout; as fer as I can recollect in my mind.
When Graves bought us, he sold three of us an' three slaves. My brother an'
sister went down south. Muma sed to de cotton country an' too, she say, "they were
made to wrok in th' cotton fields by their new marster, out in dem white fields in
th' brawlin' sun from th' time it breaked day 'till yo' couldn't see at night an',
yes indeedy, an' if God isn't my right'ous judge they were given not half to eat,
no not 'nough, to eat. Dey wuz beaten ef dey ask'd for any mo'".
As to marriage, when a slave wanted to marry, why he would jes ask his marster
to go over and ask de tother marster could he take unto himself dis certain gal
fer a wife. Mind you now, all de slaves dat marster called out of quarters an' he'd
make 'em line up see, stand in a row like soldiers, and de slave man is wid his
marster when dis askin' is gwine on, and he pulls de gal to him he wants; an' de
marster den make both jump over broom stick an' after dey does, dey is pronounced
man an' wife, both stayin' wid same marsters (I mean ef John Harris Sallie-John
stay wid his ol' marster an' Sal' wid hers, but had privileges, you know, like
married folks; an' ef chillun were born all of 'em, no matter how many, belonged
to de marster whar de woman stayed.
If I aint made a mistake, I think it wuz in April when de war surrendered
an' muma an' all us wuz turned aloose in May. Yes dat ol' wench, a ol' heifer,
oh child, it makes my blood bile when I think 'bout it. Yes she kept muma igrunt.
Didn't tell her nuthing 'bout being free 'til den in May.
Den her mistress, Miss Betsy Godsey, tol' her she wuz free, an' she (muma)
coul' cook fer her jes th' same dat she would give her something to eat an' help
clothe us chillun, dat wuz ef muma continual' to sta wid her an' work.
You see, we didn't have nuthin' an' no whar to go, um,um,um so we all, you
know, jes took en stayed 'til we wuz able wid God's help to pull us selves to-
gether. But my God it wuz 'ginst our will, but, baby, couldn't help ourselves.
-4-
My fathers master tol' him he could farm one haf fer th' tother an'
when time rolled 'roun' fer dem 'viding crops he took an' give to him his part
like any honest man would do. Ah, Lord child, dem wuz terrible times too, oh!
it makes me shudder when I think of some slaves had to stay in de woods an' git
long best way dey could after freedom done bin' clared; you see slaves who had
mean master would rather be dar den whar dey lived. By an' by God opened a way
an' dey got wid other slaves who had huts. You see, after th' render no white
folks could keep slaves. Do yo' know even now, honey, an' dat done bin way bac'
yonder, dese ol' white folks think us poor colored people is made to work an'
slave fer dem, look! dey aint give you no wages worth nuthin'. Gal cook all week
fer two an' three dollars. How can you live off it, how kin, you kin yo'?
My father waited on soldiers and after de s'render dey carried him an'
his brother as fer as Washington D.C. I think we all use to say den, "Washington
City. Aint you done heard folks talk 'bout dat city? 'Tis a grade big city,
daus whar de President of dis here country stay; an' in bac' days it wuz known
as 'vidin' lin' fer de North an' South. I done hear dem white folks tell all
'bout dem things dis line. As I wuz tellin' you, hos brother wuz kept, but dey
sent father bac' home. Uncle Spencer wuz left in Prince Williams County. All
his chillun ar' still dar. I don't know de name of Yankee who carried him off.
Lord, Lord, Honey, dem times too over sad 'cause Yankees took lots of
slaves away an' dey made homes, An' whole heap of families lost sight of each
other. "I know of a case whar after hit wuz ten years a brother an' sister
lived side by side an' didn't know dey wuz blood kin.
My views 'bout de chillun in dem bac' days is dat dese here chillun
what is now comin' up is too pisen brazen fer me.
Now jes lem me tell you how I did I married when I wuz 14 years old.
So help me God, I didn't know what marriage meant. I had an idea when you loved
de man, you an' he could be married an' his wife had to cook, clean up, wash,
an' iron fer him was all. I slept in bed he on his side an' I en mine fer
-5-
three months an' dis aint no lie. Miss Sue, he never got close to me 'cause
muma had sed "Don't let no body bother yo' principle, 'cause dat wuz all yo'
had. I 'bey my muma, an' tol' him so, and I said to go an' ask muma an' ef she
sed he could get close to me hit was alright. An" he an' I went to gether to see
and ask muma.
Den muma said "Come here chillun," and she began tellin' me to please my husband,
an' 'twas my duty as a wife, dat he had marred a pu'fect lady."
Dese here chillun don't think ef deir principle. Run purfectly wild. Old
women too. Dey ain't all 'em true to one, but have two.
Jes what is gittin' in to dis generation; is hit de worl' comin' to an end?
Ha! ha! ha! I goin' tel' yo' som'thin' else.
I had a young man to come to see me one evenin' an' he sed dis to me,
"Miss Moore" "Let me jin my fence to your plantation."
I give him his hat. I say, "no" yo' go yo' way an' I go mine. I wuz through
wid him, an' mind yo' I from dat da' 'til dis aint knowed what he wuz talkin'
'bout an' wuz ashamed to ask muma; but I thought he insulted me."
I didn't never go to school. Had to work an' am working now an' when hit
breaks good weather, I go fishing. And who works dat big garden out dar? No body
but me."
You know I'm mother of eleven chillun, an' 'tis seven living an' four of
dem ded.
Transcription from: Federal Writers' Project: Slave Narrative Project, Vol. 17, Virginia, Berry-Wilson. 1937.
Manuscript/Mixed Material, images 28-30. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, .
24
Interview of Mrs. Della Harris
2 - E Byrne Street
Petersburg, Virginia
By -- Susie Byrd
February 5, 1937
I don't know just how old I is. Muma sent me to private school wid white
chillun fo' one week. I was 13 years old at de time uh Lee's surrender. I belong
to Peter or Billy Buck Turnbull Warrenton, N.C. Put this down. My mother and family
all belong to Peter Buck as his slaves. We didn't work until after the war; then we
came to Petersburg. I went to dancing school wid the white folks and can dance any
kind of dance sets. My father was a musicianer. He belonged to John Carthan, in
Warrenton, N.C. In dem days you had to take your Master's and Mistess' name. In slavery
time when a slave married he had to ask his Master and Mistess.
"We never went to church. We used to hear de bells ringing loud, baby, yes,
clear and strong. No, never seen no Sunday school, and the first time I went in a church
I looked all around, and baby, I thought dat I was in heaven. It wasn't long, Miss
Sue, before I got 'legeon, and, yes, I jined de church, 15 years old I wuz. Never will
forget the time, or dat place. Den I lived here with an ant, muma's sister, who was
named Kate Williams. Her husband wuz my uncle, and he worked and died at de White
House in Washington City.
" I don't know de name of de President he worked for, but you can find dat
out on dem books. You know you young folks calls um records.
"Yes child I'm proud of my age never gave no body no trouble.
I have 8 children dead and now only one son living. Peter Turnbull was good
to all his slaves, as far as I know. Mama was a cook in slavery time. She died in
Petersburg, yes, right here in dis hole.
"No muma never owned any thing, always rented and aint never owned nothing but
a passel of children.
"My muma was a geniune Indian. Some people day you can't own Indians. I don't
know how cum, but I do know she was owned by these people, but she surely was an
Indian. Every body knows me all over in Virginia.
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"When I use to be in dining room service I would hear de white folks talk,
and, do you know, Miss Sue you can hear a lot that way?
"Moster said he couldn't sell me 'cause I was so little. Just kept me fur to
wait on de little chillun in de house.
"Miss Sue, you'll have to give me something for telling you all dis here, if
it aint nothing but a horse cake.
"I've seen lots of dis world in travel. Done bin to Baltimore City; done bin
to Philadelphia.
"I aint gwine give you no more, gal.
"Yes, to Lynchburg, den I worked at Mont Royal School, Baby , where Mrs
McDaniel was manager.
"The man gwine say, "dat woman bin some where." If I stayed long enough I
mighta got some learning but I stayed only one year. Got tired of that place. From
one season to another is a year, aint it? Ah ! Lord!
"Young folks now adays are just fur a good time, and a good time too they have.
Yes, Siree Bob!
"Gwine stop now, Miss Sue, aint gwine give you no mo'. Man gwine say, Miss Sue,
where in the devil did you get this stuff?. Gal, you are a mess. You gonna write most
all dat book about Della. Go on now, dats nough.
"In dem days chillun were chillun, now every body is grown. Chillun then were
seen and not heard. When old persons came around muma sent us out and you better not
be seen. Now every body act grown. Make the man laugh.
"I've always enjoyed good health. Never had a Doctor in my life, not even when
my chillun wuz born. Dis rubbing when people got pain just rubs it in. Eating so
much and late hours is cause you young folks dying. All muma's chillun wuz healthy.
"Real food in dem days, yes, muma fed us good vituals from white folks. I tell you,
we had good owners. I didn't see sun set when I wuz a child. Always went to bed early,
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child, I wish I could call back dem days, Muma said people lived so much longer
because they took care of themselves.
"All dis here education an' people just now got it."
Question: Do you think, Mrs. Harris, education has helped our race?
"Well, child, I don't know. Folks are so indifferent now I am afraid to say.
Pshaw.. Colored folks now, Some are messy, an' don't know how to be polite.
"Talking about lightning days, Its lightning at every bodys house. Lord have
mercy on dese here young folks and deliver me from the plantation, I pray.
"Courting dem days wuz like everything I reckon you all do now adays.
You promise to 'bey the man, but before you finish it its cussing, Honey.
In olden days husbands loved. Sho God did tend to wife and took care of
them and they had to stay home cause it wuz always a new baby. I tell you, Miss
Sue, man ought not never had you to find history 'cause you gwine tell it all.
As I said, we loved . Is de young folks marrying fur love? Dey don't stay to-
gether long enough to warm hands. We went to church together and praised God;
led prayer meetings and, yes siree, would feel good.
Now you all done start opening theatres on Sunday. Miss Sue, all dat stuff
you putting down will sure make the man laugh.
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