Name: McCree, Ed

Address: 543 Reese Street Athens, Georgia

Age: 76

Written by:Sadie B. Hornsby (White) Athens

Edited by: Leila Harris (Augusta) and John N. Booth (District Supervisor Federal Writers' Project Residencies 6 & 7)

Citation: Federal Writers' Project: Slave Narrative Project, Vol. 4, Part 3, Kendricks-Styles (1936), Library of Congress, Manuscript/Mixed Material. https://www.loc.gov/item/mesn043/

Interview

Ed McCree's home was pointed out by a little albino Negro girl about 10 years
old. The small front yard was gay with snapdragons, tiger lilies, dahlias, and other
colorful flowers, and the two-story frame house, painted gray with white trimmings
seemed to be in far better repair than the average Negro residence.

Chewing on a cud of tobacco, Ed answered the knock on his front door. "Good
evenin' Lady," he said. "Have a cheer on de porch whar it's cool." Ed is about five feet,
six inches in height, and on this afternoon he was wearing a blue striped shirt, black vest,
gray pants and black shoes. His gray hair was topped by a soiled gray hat.
Nett, his wife, came hobbling out on the porch and sat down to listen to the
conversation. At first the old man was reluctant to talk of his childhood experiences, but
his interest was aroused by questioning and soon he began to eagerly volunteer his
memories. He had just had his noon meal and now and then would doze a little, but was
easily aroused when questions called him back to the subject.

"I was borned in Oconee County," he said, "jus' below Watkinsville. My Ma and
Pa was Louisa and Henry McCree, but Old Marster called Pa 'Sherm' for short. Far as I
ever heared, my Ma and Pa was borned and brung up right dar in Oconee County. Dere
was six of us chillun: Silas, Lumpkin, Bennie, Lucy, Babe, and me. Babe, she was borned
a long time atter de war.

"Little Niggers, what was too young to wuk in de fields, toted water to de field
hands and waited on de old 'omans what was too old to wuk in de craps. Dem old 'omans
looked atter de babies and piddled 'round de yards.

"Slave quarters was lots of log cabins wid chimlies of criss-crossed sticks and
mud. Pore white folks lived in houses lak dat too. Our bed was made wid high posties
and had cords, what run evvy which a-way, for springs. 'Course dey had to be wound
tight to keep dem beds from fallin' down when you tried to git in 'em. For mattresses, de
'omans put wheat straw in ticks made out of coarse cloth wove right dar on de plantation,
and de pillows was made de same way. Ole Miss, she let her special favorite Niggers,
what wuked up at de big house, have feather mattresses and pillows. Dem other Niggers
shined dey eyes over dat, but dere warn't nothin' dey could do 'bout it 'cept slip 'round and
cut dem feather beds and pillows open jus' to see de feathers fly. Kivver was 'lowanced
out evvy year to de ones what needed it most. In dat way dere was allus good kivver for
evvybody.

"Grandma Liza b'longed to Marse Calvin Johnson long 'fore Marse John McCree
buyed her. She was cook at de big house. Grandpa Charlie, he b'longed to Marse Charlie
Hardin, but atter him and Grandma married, she still went by de name of McCree.

"Lawdy Miss! Who ever heared of folks payin' slaves to wuk? Leastwise, I never
knowed 'bout none of 'em on our place gittin' money for what dey done. 'Course dey give
us plenty of somepin' t'eat and clothes to wear, and den dey made us keep a-humpin' it. I
does 'member seein' dem paper nickels, dimes, and quarters what us chillun played wid
atter de war. Us used to pretend us was rich wid all dat old money what warn't no good
den.

"'Bout dem eatments, Miss, it was lak dis, dere warn't no fancy victuals lak us
thinks us got to have now, but what dere was, dere was plenty of. Most times dere was
poke sallet, turnip greens, old blue head collards, cabbages, pess, and 'taters by de
wholesale for de slaves to eat and, onct a week, dey rationed us out wheat bread, syrup,
brown sugar, and ginger cakes. What dey give chillun de most of was potlicker poured
over cornbread crumbs in a long trough. For fresh meat, outside of killin' a shoat, a lamb,
or a kid now and den, slaves was 'lowed to go huntin' a right smart and dey fotch in a
good many turkles (turtles), 'possums, rabbits, and fish. Folks didn't know what iron
cookstoves was dem days. Leastwise, our white folks didn't have none of 'em. All our
cookin' was done in open fireplaces in big old pots and pans. Dey had thick iron skillets
wid heavy lids on 'em, and dey could bake and fry too in dem skillets. De meats,
cornbread, biscuits, and cakes what was cooked in dem old skillets was sho' mighty good.
"De cotton, flax, and wool what our clothes was made out of was growed, spun,
wove, and sewed right dar on our plantation. Marse John had a reg'lar seamster what
didn't do nothin' else but sew. Summertime us chillun wore shirts what looked lak
nightgowns. You jus' pulled one of dem slips over your haid and went on 'cause you was
done dressed for de whole week, day and night. Wintertime our clothes was a heap better.
Dey give us thick jeans pants, heavy shirts, and brogan shoes wid brass toes.
Summertime us all went bar'foots.

"Old Marster John McCree was sho' a good white man. I jus' tells you de truf,
'cause I ain't in for tellin' nothin' else. I done jus' plum forgot Ole Miss' fust name, and I
can't git up de chilluns' names no way. I didn't play 'round wid 'em much nohow. Dey
was jus' little young chillun den anyhow. Dey lived in a big old plank house - nothin' fine
'bout it. I 'members de heavy timbers was mortised together and de other lumber was put
on wid pegs; dere warn't no nails 'bout it. Dat's all I ricollects 'bout dat dere house right
now. It was jus' a common house, I'd say.

"Dere was a thousand or more acres in dat old plantation. It sho' was a big piece
of land, and it was plumb full of Niggers - I couldn't say how many, 'cause I done forgot.
You could hear dat bugle de overseer blowed to wake up de slaves for miles and miles.
He got 'em up long 'fore sunup and wuked 'em in de fields long as dey could see how to
wuk. Don't talk 'bout dat overseer whuppin' Niggers. He beat on 'em for most anything.
What would dey need no jail for wid dat old overseer a-comin' down on 'em wid dat
rawhide bull-whup?

"If dey got any larnin', it was at night. Dere warn't no school'ouse or no church on
dat plantation for Niggers. Slaves had to git a pass when dey wanted to go to church.
Sometimes de white preacher preached to de Niggers, but most of de time a Nigger wid a
good wit done de preachin'. Dat Nigger, he sho' couldn't read nary a word out of de Bible.
At de baptizin's was when de Nigger boys shined up to de gals. Dey dammed up de crick
to make de water deep enough to duck 'em under good and, durin' de service, dey sung:
It's de Good Old Time Religion.

"When folks died den, Niggers for miles and miles around went to de funeral.
Now days dey got to know you mighty well if dey bothers to go a t'all. Dem days folks
was buried in homemade coffins. Some of dem coffins was painted and lined wid cloth
and some warn't. De onliest song I ricollects 'em singin' at buryin's was: Am I Born to
Lay Dis Body Down? Dey didn't dig graves lak dey does now. Dey jus' dug straight down
to 'bout five feet, den dey cut a vault to fit de coffin in de side of de grave. Dey didn't put
no boards or nothin' over de coffins to keep de dirt off.

"'Bout dem patterollers! Well, you knowed if dey cotched you out widout no pass,
dey was gwine to beat your back most off and send you on home. One night my Pa
'lowed he would go to see his gal. All right, he went. When he got back, his cabin door
was fastened hard and fast. He was a-climbin' in de window when de patterollers got to
him. Dey 'lowed: 'Nigger, is you got a pass?' Pa said: 'No Sir.' Den dey said: 'Us can't beat
you 'cause you done got home on your marster's place, but us is sho' gwine to tell your
Marster to whup your hide off. But Old Marster never tetched him for dat.

"Atter dey come in from de fields, dem Niggers et deir supper, went to deir
cabins, sot down and rested a little while, and den dey drapped down on de beds to sleep.
Dey didn't wuk none Sadday atter dinner in de fields. Dat was wash day for slave 'omans.
De mens done fust one thing and den another. Dey cleant up de yards, chopped wood,
mended de harness, sharpened plow points, and things lak dat. Sadday nights, Old
Marster give de young folks passes so dey could go from one place to another a-danoin'
and a-frolickin' and havin' a big time gen'ally. Dey done most anything dey wanted to on
Sundays, so long as dey behaved deyselfs and had deir passes handy to show if de
patterollers bothered 'em.

"Yessum, slaves sho' looked forward to Christmas times. Dere was such extra
good eatin's dat week and so much of 'em. Old Marster had 'em kill a plenty of shoats,
lambs, kids, cows, and turkeys for fresh meat. De 'omans up at de big house was busy for
a week ahead cookin' peach puffs, 'tater custards, and plenty of cakes sweetened wid
brown sugar and syrup. Dere was plenty of home-made candy for de chilluns' Santa
Claus and late apples and peaches had done been saved and banked in wheat straw to
keep 'em good 'til Christmas. Watermelons was packed away in cottonseed and when dey
cut 'em open on Christmas Dey, dey et lak fresh melons in July. Us had a high old time
for a week, and den on New Year's Day dey started back to wuk.

"Come winter, de mens had big cornshuckin's and dere was quiltin's for de
'omans. Dere was a row of corn to be shucked as long as from here to Milledge Avenue.
Old Marster put a gang of Niggers at each end of de row and it was a hot race 'tween dem
gangs to see which could git to de middle fust. Dere was allus a big feast waitin' for 'em
when de last ear of corn was shucked. 'Bout dem quiltin's!' Now Lady, what would a old
Nigger man know 'bout somepin' dat didn't nothin' but 'omans have nothin' to do wid?

"Dem cotton pickin's was grand times. Dey picked cotton in de moonlight and den
had a big feast of barbecued beef, mutton, and pork washed down wid plenty of good
whiskey. Atter de feast was over, some of dem Niggers played fiddles and picked banjoes
for de others to dance down 'til dey was wore out.

"When slaves got sick, our white folks was mighty good 'bout havin' 'em keered
for. Dey dosed 'em up wid oil and turpentine and give 'em teas made out of hoarhound for
some mis'ries and bone-set for other troubles. Most all the slaves wore a sack of assfiddy
(asafetida) 'round deir necks all de time to keep 'em from gittin' sick.

"It was a happy day for us slaves when news come dat de war was over and de
white folks had to turn us 'loose, Marster called his Niggers to come up to de big house
yard, but I never stayed 'round to see what he had to say. I runned 'round dat place ashoutin'
to de top of my voice. My folks stayed on wid Old Marster for 'bout a year or
more. If us had left, it would have been jus' lak swappin' places from de fryin' pan to de
fire, 'cause Niggers didn't have no money to buy no land wid for a long time atter de war.
Schools was soon scattered 'bout by den Yankees what had done sot us free. I warn't big
enough den to do nothin' much 'cept tote water to de field and chop a little cotton.

"Me and Nettie Freeman married a long time atter de war. At our weddin' I wore a
pair of brown jeans pants, whits shirt, white vest, and a cutaway coat. Nettie wore a black
silk dress what she had done bought from Miss Blanche Rutherford. Pears lak to me it
had a overskirt of blue what was scalloped 'round de bottom."

At this point, Nettie, who had been an interested listener, was delighted. She
broke into the conversation with: "Ed, you sho' did take in dat dress and you ain't forgot it
yit."

"You is right 'bout dat, Honey," he smilingly replied, "I sho' ain't and I never will
forgit how you looked dat day.

"Miss Blanche give me a pair of white silk gloves to wear wid dat dress," mused
Nettie.

"Us didn't have no sho' 'nough weddin'," continued Ed. "Us jus' went off to de
preacher man's house and got married up together. I sho' is glad my Nett is still a-livin',
even if she is down wid de rheumatiz."

"I'm glad I'm livin' too," Nettie said with a chuckle.

Ed ignored the question as to the number of their children and Nettie made no
attempt to take further part in the conversation. There is a deep seated idea prevalent
among old people of this type that if the "giver'ment folks" learn that they have able
bodied children, their pensions and relief allowances will be discontinued.
Soon Ed was willing to talk again. "Yessum," he said. "I sho' had ruther be free. I
don't never want to be a slave no more. Now if me and Nett wants to, us can set around
and not fix and eat but one meal all day long. If us don't want to do dat, us can do jus'
whatsomever us pleases. Den, us had to wuk whether us laked it or not.

"Lordy Miss, I ain't never jined up wid no church. I ain't got no reason why, only I
jus' ain't never had no urge from inside of me to jine. 'Course, you know, evvybody ought
to lissen to de services in de church and live right and den dey wouldn't be so skeered to
die. Miss, ain't you through axin' me questions yit? I is so sleepy, and I don't know no
more to tell you. Goodbye."

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