Narratives
NEAL UPSON
CHARLIE DAVENPORT
ELLEN BETTS
NEAL UPSON
GOOD morninâ, Miss. How is you? Won't you come in? I would ax you to have a cheer [chair] on the porch, but I has to stay in de house âcause de light hurts my eyes.
Miss, Iâs mighty glad you come today, âcause I does git so lonesome here by myself. My old âoman wuks up to de court'ouse, cookinâ for de folkses in jail, and it's allus late when she gits home. âScuse me for puttinâ my old hat back on, but dese old eyes jusâ can't stand de light even in de hall, âless I shades âem.
Lawsy, Missy, does you mean dat you is willinâ to set and listen to old Neal talk? âTain't many folkses what wants to hear us old niggers talk no more. I jusâ loves to think back on dem days, âcause dem was happy timesâso much better'n times now. Folkses was better den. Dey was allus ready to help one another, but jusâ look how dey is now!
I was borned on Marster Frank Upson's place down in Oglethorpe County, nigh Lexin'ton, Georgy. Marster had a plantation, but us never lived dar, for us stayed at de home place what never had more'n âbout eighty acres of land round it. Us never had to be trottinâ to de stoâ evvy time us started to cook, âcause what warn't raised on de home place, Marster had âem raise out on de big plantation. Evvthing us needed t'eat and wear was growed on Marse Frank's land.
Harold and Jane Upson was my daddy and mammy; only folkses jusâ called Daddy âHal.â Both of âem was raised right dar on de Upson place whar dey played together whilst dey was chillun. Mammy said she had washed and sewed for Daddy ever since she was big enough, and when dey got grown dey jusâ up and got married. I was deir only boy and I was de baby chile, but dey had four gals older'n me. Dey was: Cordelia, Anne, Perthene, and Ella. Ella was named for Marse Franks onliest chile, little Misâ Ellen, and our little misâ was shoâ a good little chile.
Daddy made de shoes for all de slaves on de plantation and Mammy was called de house âoman. She done de cookinâ up at de big âouse and made de cloth for her own fambly's clothes, and she was so smart us allus had plenty t'eat and wear. I was little and stayed wid Mammy up at de big âouse and jusâ played all over it, and all de folkses up dar petted me.
Aunt Tama was a old slave too old to wuk. She was all de time cookinâ gingerbread and hidinâ it in a little trunk what sot by de fireplace in her room. When us chillun was good, Aunt Tama give us gingerbread, but if us didn't mind what she said, us didn't git none. Aunt Tama had de rheumatiz and walked wid a stick, and I could git in dat trunk jusâ âbout anytime I wanted to. I shoâ did git âbout evvything dem other chillun had, swappinâ Aunt Tama's gingerbread. When our white folkses went off, Aunt Tama toted de keys, and she evermore did make dem niggers stand round. Marse Frank jusâ laughed when dey made complaints âbout her.
In summertime dey cooked peas and other veg'tables for us chillun in a washpot out in de yard in de shade, and us et out of de pot wid our wooden spoons. Dey jesâ give us wooden bowls full of bread and milk for supper.
Marse Frank said he wanted âem to learn me how to wait on de white folksesâ table up at de big âouse, and dey started me off wid de job of fanninâ de flies away. Mist'ess Serena, Marse Frank's wife, made me a white coat to wear in de dininâ room. Missy, dat little old white coat made me git de onliest whuppinâ Marse Frank ever did give me. Us had comp'ny for dinner dat day and I felt so big showinâ off âfore âem in dat white coat dat I jusâ couldn't make dat turkey wing fan do right. Dem turkey wings was fastened on long handles, and atter Marster had done warned me a time or two to mind what I was âbout, the old turkey wing went down in de gravy bowl, and when I jerked it out it splattered all over de preacher's best Sunday suit. Marse Frank get up and tuk me right out to de kitchen, and when he got through brushinâ me off I never did have no more trouble wid dem turkey wings.
Evvybody cooked on open fireplaces, dem days. Dey had swinginâ racks what dey called cranes to hang de pots on for b'ilinâ. Dere was ovens fer bakinâ, and de heavy iron skillets had long handles. One of dem old skillets was so big dat Mammy could cook thirty biscuits in it at one time. I allus did love biscuits, and I would go out in de yard and trade Aunt Tama's gingerbread to de other chilluns for deir sheer of biscuits. Den dey would be skeered to eat de gingerbread, âcause I told âem I'd tell on âem. Aunt Tama thought dey was sick and told Marse Frank de chilluns warn't eatinâ nothinâ. He axed âem what was de matter and dey told him dey had done traded all deir bread to me. Marse Frank den axed me if I warn't gittinâ enough t'eat, âcause he âlowed dere was enough dar for all. Den Aunt Tama had to go and tell on me. She said I was wuss den a hog atter biscuits, so our good marster ordered her to see dat li'l Neal had enough t'eat.
PLATE 32: Slaves cooked for their owners at kitchen fireplaces like this one.
I ain't never gwine to forgit dat whuppinâ my own daddy give me. He had jusâ sharpened up a fine new ax for hisself, and I traded it off to a white boy named Roar what lived nigh us when I seed him out tryinâ to cut wood wid a sorry old dull ax. I sold him my daddy's fine new ax for five biscuits. When my daddy found out âbout dat, he âlowed he was gwine to give me somepinâ to make me think âfore I done any more tradinâ of his things. Mist'ess, let me tell you, dat beetinâ he give me evermore was a-layinâ on of de rod.
I used to cry and holler evvy time Misâ Serena went off and left me. Whenever I seed âem gittinâ out de carriage to hitch it up, I started begginâ to go. Sometimes she laughed and said, âAll right, Neal.â But when she said, âNo, Neal,â I snuck out and hid under de high-up carriage seat and went along jusâ de same. Mist'ess allus found me âfore us got back home, but she jusâ laughed and said, âWell, Neal's my little nigger, anyhow.â
Dem old cord beds was a sight to look at, but dey slept good. Us cyarded [carded] lint cotton into bats for mattresses and put âem in a tick what us tacked so it wouldn't git lumpy. Us never seed no iron springs, dem days. Dem cords, crisscrossed from one side of de bed to de other, was our springs, and us had keys to tighten âem wid. If us didn't tighten âem ewy few days, dem beds was apt to fall down wid us. De cheers was homemade, too, and de easiest-settinâ ones had bottoms made out of rye splits. Dem oak-split cheers was all right, and sometimes us used cane to bottom de cheers, but evvybody lakked to set in dem cheers what had bottoms wove out of rye splits.
Marster had one of dem old cotton gins what didn't have no engine. It was wukked by mules. Dem old mules was hitched to a long pole what dey pulled round and round, to make de gin do its wuk. Dey had some gins in dem days what had treadmills for de mules to walk in. Dem old treadmills looked sorter lak stairs. But most of dem gins was turned by long poles what de mules pulled. You had to feed de cotton by hand to dem old gins, and you shoâ had to be keerful or you was gwine to lose a hand and maybe a arm. You had to jump in dem old cotton presses and tread de cotton down by hand. It tuk most all day long to gin two bales of cotton, and if dere was three bales to be ginned, us had to wuk most all night to finish up.
Dey mixed wool wid de lint cotton to spin thread to make cloth for our winter clothes. Mammy wove a lot of dat cloth and de clothes made out of it shoâ would keep out de cold. Most of our stockin's and socks was knit at home, but now and den somebody would git hold of a sto'-bought pair for Sunday-go-to-meetinâ wear.
Colored folkses went to church wid deir own white folkses and set in de gallery. One Sunday, us was all settinâ in dat church listeninâ to de white preacher, Mr. Mansford, tellinâ how de old Debil was gwine to git dem what didn't do right.
Missy, I jusâ got to tell you âbout dat day in de meetin'ouse. A nigger had done run off from his marster and was hidinâ out from one place to another. At night he would go steal his somepin'-t'-eat. He had done stole some chickens and had âem wid him up in de church steeple whar he was hidinâ dat day. When daytime come, he went off to sleep lak niggers will do when dey ain't got to hustle, and when he woke up, Preacher Mansford was tellinâ âem âbout how de Debil was gwine to git de sinners.
Right den a old rooster, what he had stole, up and crowed so loud it seemed lak Gabriel's trumpet on Judgment Day. Dat runaway nigger was skeered, âcause he knowed dey was gwine to find him shoâ, but he warn't skeered nuffinâ compared to dem niggers settinâ in de gallery. Dey jusâ knowed dat was de voice of de Debil what had done come atter âem. Dem niggers never stopped prayinâ and testifyinâ to de Lord, till de white folkses had done got dat runaway slave and de rooster out of de steeple. His marster was dar and tuk him home and give him a good, sound thrashinâ.
Slaves was âlowed to have prayer meetinâ on Tuesday and Friday round at de diffunt plantations whar deir marsters didn't keer, and dere warn't many what objected. De good marsters all give deir slaves prayer meetinâ passes on dem nights so de patterollers wouldn't git âem and beat âem up for beinâ off deir marsters lands. Dey most nigh kilt some slaves what dey cotch out, when dey didn't have no pass.
White preachers done de talkinâ at de meetin'ouses, but at dem Tuesday and Friday night prayer meetin's, it was all done by niggers. I was too little to âmember much âbout dem meetin's, but my older sisters used to talk lots âbout âem, long atter de War had brung our freedom. Dere warn't many slaves what could read, so dey jusâ talked âbout what dey had done heared de white preachers say on Sunday. One of de fav'rite texties was de third chapter of John, and most of âem jusâ âmembered a line or two from dat.
Missy, from what folkses said âbout dem meetin's, dere shoâ was a lot of good prayinâ and testifying âcause so many sinners repented and was saved. Sometimes at dem Sunday meetin's at de white folksesâ church, dey would have two or three preachers de same day. De fust one would give de text and preach for at least a hour, den another one would give a text and do his preachinâ, and âbout dat time another one would rise up and say dat dem fust two brudders had done preached enough to save three thousand souls, but dat he was gwine to try to double dat number. Den he would do his preachinâ, and atter dat one of dem others would git up and say, âBrudders and sisters, us is all here for de same and only purposeâdat of savinâ souls. Dese other good brudders is done preached, talked, and prayed, and let the gap down. Now I'm gwine to raise it. Us is gwine to git âligion enough to take us straight through dem pearly gates. Now, let us sing whilst us gives de new brudders and sisters de right hand of fellowship.â One of dem old songs went sort of lak dis:
Must I be born to die
And lay dis body down?
When dey had done finished all de verses and choruses of dat dey started:
Amazinâ grace, how sweet de sound
Dat saved a wretch lak me.
âFore dey stopped dey usually got round to singinâ:
On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye,
To Canaan's fair and happy land,
Whar my possessions lie.
Dey could keep dat up for hours, and it was shoâ good singinâ, for dat's one thing niggers was born to doâto sing when dey gits âligion.
When old Aunt Flora come up and wanted to jine de church, she told âbout how she had done seed de hebbenly light and changed her way of livinâ. Folkses testified den âbout de goodness of de Lord and His many blessins what He give to saints and sinners, but dey is done stopped givinâ him much thanks anymore. Dem days, dey âzamined folkses âfore dey let âem jine up wid de church. When dey started âzamininâ Aunt Flora, de preacher axed her, âIs you done been borned again, and does you believe dat Jesus Christ done died to save sinners?â Aunt Flora, she started to cry, and she said, âLordy, is He daid? Us didn't know dat. If my old man had done scribed for de paper lak I told him to, us would have knowed when Jesus died.â Missy, ain't dat jusâ lak one of dem old-time niggers? Dey jusâ tuk dat for ign'ance and let her come on into de church.
Dem days, it was de custom for marsters to hire out what slaves dey had dat warn't needed to wuk on deir own land, so our marster hired out two of my sisters. Sisâ Anna was hired to a fambly âbout sixteen miles from our place. She didn't lak it dar, so she run away and I found her hid out in our tater âouse. One day when us was playinâ, she called to me right low and soft lak and told me she was hongry and for me to git her somepin'-t'-eat, but not to tell nobody she was dar. She said she had been dar widout nothinâ t'eat for several days. She was skeered Marster might whup her. She looked so thin and bad I thought she was gwine to die, so I told Mammy. Her and Marster went and brung Anna to de âouse and fed her. Dat pore chile was starved most to death.
Marster kept her at home for three weeks and fed her up good. Den he carried her back and told dem folkses what had hired her dat dey had better treat Anna good and see dat she had plenty t'eat. Marster was drivinâ a fast hoss dat day, but bless your heart, Anna beat him back home. She cried and tuk on so, begginâ him not to take her back dar no more, dat he told her she could stay home. My other sister stayed on whar she was hired out till de War was over and dey give us our freedom.
Daddy had done hid all Old Marster's hosses when de Yankees got to our plantation. Two of de ridinâ hosses was in de smokehouse and another good trotter was in de hen'ouse. Old Jake was a slave what warn't right bright. He slepâ in de kitchen and he knowed whar Daddy had hid dem hosses, but dat was all he knowed. Marster had give Daddy his money to hide, too, and he tuk some of de plasterinâ off de wall in Marster's room and put de box of money inside de wall. Den he fixed dat plasterinâ back so nice you couldn't tell it had ever been tore off.
De night dem Yankees come, Daddy had gone out to de wuk âouse to git some pegs to fix somepin'âus didn't have no nails, dem daysâwhen de Yankees rid up to de kitchen door and found Old Jake by hisself. Dat pore old fool was skeered so bad he jusâ started right off babblinâ âbout two hosses in de smoke'ouse and one in de hen'ouse, but he was tremblinâ, so he couldn't talk plain. Old Marster heared de fuss dey made and he come down to de kitchen to see what was de matter. De Yankees den ordered Marster to git dem his hosses. Marster called Daddy and told him to git dem his hosses, but Daddy, he played foolish lak and stalled round lak he didn't have good sense. Dem sojers raved and fussed all night long âbout dem hosses, but dey never thought about lookinâ in de smoke'ouse and hen'ouse for âem, and âbout daybreak dey left widout takinâ nothinâ. Marster said he was shoâ proud of my Daddy for savinâ dem good hosses for him.
Marster had a long pocketbook what fastened at one end wid a ring. One day, when he went to git out some money, he dropped a roll of bills dat he never seed, but Daddy picked it up and handed it back to him right away. Now, my Daddy could have kept dat money jusâ as easy, but he was a âceptional man and believed ewybody ought to do right.
One time Marster missed some of his money and he didn't want to âcuse nobody, so he âcided he would find out who had done de debbilment. He put a big rooster in a coop wid his haid stickinâ out. Den he called all de niggers up to de yard and told âem somebody had been stealinâ his money, and dat evvybody must git in line and march round dat coop and tetch it. He said dat when de guilty ones fetched it, de old rooster would crow. Evvybody fetched it âcept one old man and his wife; dey jusâ wouldn't come nigh dat coop whar dat rooster was a-lookinâ at evvybody out of his little red eyes. Marster had dat old man and âoma...