Name: Singleton, Tom

Address: "Brooklyn section of Athens"

Age: 94

Written by: Sadie B. Hornsby (Research Worker Federal Writers' Project Athens, Georgia)

Edited by: Lelia Harris (Editor Federal Writers' Project, Augusta, Georgia)

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

Uncle Tom lives alone in a one room cabin, about two and one half miles from
town, on Loop-de-Loop road, not far from the Brooklyn section of Athens. He states that
He lives alone because: "I was raised right and de Niggers dis day and time ain't had no
raisin'. I just can't be bothered wid havin' 'em 'round me all de time. Dey ain't my sort of
folkses." Uncle Tom says he will be 94 years old on May 15th or this year, but many
believe that he is much older.

When asked if he felt like talking about his experiences and observances while he
was a slave, he said: "I don't know, Missie; I got a pow'ful hurtin' in my chest, and I'm
too old to 'member much, but you ax me what you want to know and I'll try to tell you. I
was born in Lumpkin County on Marster Joe Singleton's place. My ma was named Nancy
Early, and she belonged to Marster Joe Early what lived in Jackson County. My pa's
name was Joe Singleton. I don't 'member much 'bout my brothers and sisters. Ma and Pa
had 14 chillun. Some of deir boys was me and Isaac, Jeff, Moses, and Jack; and deir gals
was: Celia, Laura, Dilsey, Patsey, Frankie, and Elinor. Dese was de youngest chillun. I
don't 'member de fust ones. I don't ricollect nothin' t'all 'bout my grandma and grandpa,
cause us was too busy to talk in de caytime, and at hight us was so whupped out from
hard wuk us just went off to sleep early and never talked much at no time. All I knows
'bout 'em is dat I heared folkses say my gran'pa was 107 years old when he died. Folkses
don't live dat long now-a-days.

"De slave quarters was in rows and had two rooms and a shed. Dey had beds
made out of poles rastened together wid pegs and 'cross 'em was paid de slates what dey
spread de wheat straw on. Us had good Kivver 'cause our Marster was a rich man shu he
believed in takin' keer or his Niggers. Some put sheets dut was white as snow over de
straw. Dem sheets was biled wid home-made soap what kept 'em white lak dat. Under
folkses put quilts over de straw. At de end of de slave quarters was de barns and cow
sheds, and a little beyond dem was de finest pasture you ever seed wid clear water abubblin'
out of a pretty spring, and runnin' thoo' it. Dar's whar dey turned de stock to
graze when dey warn't wukkin' 'em."

When Tom was asked if he ever made any money, a mischievous smile illumined
his face. "Yes ma'am, you see I plowed durin' de day on old Marster's farm. Some of de
white folks what didn't have many Niggers would ax old Marster to let us help on dey
places. Us had to do dat wuk at night. On bright moonshiny nights, I would cut wood, fix
fences, and sich lak for 'em. Wid de money dey paid me I bought Sunday shoes and a
Sunday coat and sich lak, cause I was a Nigger what always did lak to look good on
Sunday.

"Yes ma'am, us had good clo'es de year 'round. Our summer clothes was white,
white as snow. Old Marster said dey looked lak linen. In winter us wore heavy yarn what
de women made on de looms. One strand was wool and one was cotton. Us wore our
brogan shoes evvy day and Sunday too. Marster was a merchant and bought shoes from
de tanyard. Howsomever, he had a colored man on his place what could make any kind of
shoes.

"Lawdy! Missie, us had evvytain' to eat; all kinds of greens, turnips, peas, 'tatoes,
meat and chickens. Us was plumb fools 'bout fried chicken and chicken stew, so Marster
'lowed us to raise plenty of chickens, and sometimes at night us Niggers would git
together and have a hee old time. No Ma'am, us didn't have no gyardens. Us didn't need
none. Old Marster give us all de vittuls us wanted. Missie, you oughta seed dem big old
iron spiders what dey cooked in. 'Course de white folkses called 'em ovens. De biscuits
and blackberry pies dey cooked in spiders, dey was somethin' else. Oh! don't talk 'bout
dem 'possums! Makes me hongry just to think 'bout 'em. One night when pa and me went
'possum huntin', I put a 'possum what us cotched in a sack and flung it 'cross my back.
Atter us started home dat 'possum chewed a hole in de suck and bit me square in de back.
I 'member my pa had a little dog." here he stopped talking and called a little black and
white dog to him, and said: "He was 'bout de size of dis here dog, and pa said he could
natchelly jus' make a 'possum de way he always found one so quick when us went
huntin'." The old man sighed, and looking out across the field, continued: "Atter slav'ry
days, Niggers turned dey chilluns loose, an' den de 'possums an' rabbits most all left, and
dere ain't so many fishes left in de rivers neither."

Tom could not recall much about his first master: "I was four year old when
Marster Dr. Joe Singleton died. All I 'members 'bout him; he was a big man, and I sho'
was skeered of him. When he cotch us in de branch, he would holler at us and say: 'Come
out of dar 'fore you git sick.' he didn't 'low us to play in no water, and when he hollered,
us lit a rag. Dere was 'bout a thousand acres in Marse Joe's plantation, he owned a gold
mine and a copper mine too. Old Marster owned 'bout 65 Niggers in all. He bought an'
sold Niggers too. When Old Marster wanted to send news, he put a Nigger on a mule an'
sont de message.

"Atter Marse Joe died, old Mist'ess run de farm 'bout six years. Mist'ess' daughter,
Miss Mattie, married Marster Fred Lucas, an' old Mist'ess sold her share in de plantation
den. My pa, my sister, an' me was sold on de block at de sheriff's sale. Durin' de sale my
sister cried all de time, an' Pa rubbed his han' over her head an' face, an' he said: 'Don't
cry, you is gwine live wid young Miss Mattie.' I didn't cry none, 'cause I didn't care.
Marse Fred bought us, an' tuk us to Athens to live, an' old Mist'ess went to live
wid her chilluns.

"Marse Fred didn't have a very big plantation; jus' 'bout 70 or 80 acres I guess, an'
he had 'bout 25 Niggers. He didn't have no overseer. My pa was de one in charge, an' he
tuk his orders from Marse Fred, den he went out to de farm, whar he seed dat de Niggers
carried 'em out. Pa was de carriage driver too. It was his delight to drive for Marster and
Mist'ess.

"Marster and Mist'ess had eight chillun: Miss Mattie, Miss Mary, Miss Fannie,
Miss Senie, Mr. Dave, Mr. Joe, Mr. Frank and Mr. Freddy. Dey lived in a big house,
weather-boarded over logs, an' de inside was ceiled.

"Marster an' Mist'ess sho' was good to us Niggers. Us warn't beat much. De
onliest Nigger I 'member dey whupped was Cicero. He was a bad boy. My Marster never
did whup me but onct. Mist'ess sont me up town to fetch her a spool of thread. I got to
playin' marbles an' 'fore I knowed it, it was dinner time. When I got home, Mist'ess was
mad sho' 'nough. Marster cotch me an' wore me out, but Mist'ess never touched me. I
seed Niggers in de big jail at Watkinsville an' in de calaboose in Athens. Yes Ma'am! I
seed plenty of Niggers sold on de block in Watkinsville. I ricollects de price of one
Nigger run up to $15,000. All de sellin' was done by de sheriffs an' de slave Marsters.

"Marster Fred Lucas sold his place whar he was livin' in town to Major Cook, an'
moved to his farm near Princeton Factory.

Atter Major Cook got kilt in de War, Marse Fred come back to town an' lived in
his house again.

"No Ma'am, dey warn't no schools for Niggers in slav'ry time. Mist'ess' daughters
went to Lucy Cobb. Celia, my sister, was deir nurse, an' when all our little missies got
grown, Celia was de house gal. So when our little missies went to school dey come home
an' larnt Celia how to read an' write. 'Bout two years atter freedom, she begun to teach
school herself.

"Us had our own churches in town, an' de waite folkses furnished our preachers.
Once dey baptised 75 in de river below de Check Factory; white folkses fust, and Niggers
last.

"Oh! dem patterrollers! Dey was rough mens. I heared 'em say dey would beat de
stuffin' out of you, if dey cotch you widout no pass.

"Yes Ma'am! dar always was a little trouble twixt de white folkses an' Niggers;
always a little. Heaps of de Niggers went Nawth. I was told some white men's livin' in
town hyar helped 'em git away. My wife had six of 'er kinfolkses what got clean back to
Africa, an' dey wrote back here from dar.

"Us had parties an' dances at night. Sometimes Mist'ess let Celia wear some of de
little missies' clo'es, 'cause she wanted her to outshine de other Nigger gals. Dey give us a
week at Christmas time, an' Christmas day was a big day. Dey give us most evvythin': a
knot of candy as big as my rist, an' heaps of other good things. At corn shuckin's Old
Marster fotched a gallon keg of whiskey to de quarters an' passed it 'roun'. Some just got
tipsy an' some got low down drunk. De onliest cotton pickin' us knowed 'bout was when
us picked in de daytime, an' dey warn't no good time to dat. A Nigger can't even sing
much wid his head all bent down pickin' cotton.

"Folkses had fine times at weddin's dem days. Dar was more vittuls dan us could
eat. Now dey just han' out a little somethin'. De white folkses had a fine time too. Dey let
de Niggers git married in deir houses. If it was bad weather, den de weddin' was most
genully in de hall, but if it was a pretty day, dey married in de yard.

"I can't 'member much 'bout de games us played or de songs us sung. A few of de
games was marbles, football, an' town ball. 'Bout dem witches, I don't know nothin'.
Some or de folkses wore a mole foot 'roun' dey neck to keep bad luck away: some wore a
rabbit's foot fer sharpness, an' it sholy did fetch sharpness. I don't know nothin' 'tall 'bout
Rawhead and Bloody Bones, but I heared tell he got atter Mist'ess' chillun an' made 'em
be good. Dey was pow'ful skeert of 'im.

"Old Marster an' Mist'ess looked atter deir Niggers mighty well. When dey got
sick, de doctor was sont for straight away. Yes Ma'am, dey looked atter 'em mighty well.
Holly leaves an' holly root biled together was good for indigestion, an' blackgum an'
blackhaw roots biled together an' strained out an' mixed wid whiskey was good for
diffunt mis'ries. Some of de Niggers wore little tar sacks 'roun' dey necks to keep de fever
'way.

"Yes Ma'am.' I was in de War 'bout two years, wid young Marster Joe Lucas. I
waited on him, cooked for him, an' went on de scout march wid him, for to tote his gun,
an' see atter his needs. I was a bugger in dem days!

"I 'members I was standin' on de corner of Jackson Street when dey said Freedom
had come. Dat sho' was a rally day for de Niggers. 'Bout a thousand in all was standin'
'roun' here in Athens dat day. Yes Ma'am, de fust time de yankees come thoo' dey robbed
an' stole all dey could find an' went on to Monroe. Next to come was de gyards to take
charge of de town, an' dey was s'posed to set things to goin' right.

"Atter de War I stayed on wid Marse Fred, an' wukked for wages for six years, an'
den farmed on halves wid him. Some of de Niggers went on a buyin' spree, an' dey
bought land, hand over fist. Some bought eight an' nine hundred acres at a time.
When asked to tell about his wedding, a merry twinkle shone in his eyes: "Lawdy,
Missie, dis ole Nigger nebber married 'til long atter de War. Us sho' did cut up jack. Us
was too old to have any chillun, but us was so gay, us went to evvy dance 'til 'bout six
years ago. She died den, an' lef' me all by myse'f.

"Dat Mr. Abyham Lincoln was a reg'lar Nigger god. Us b'lieved dat Mr. Jeff.
Davis was all right too. Booker Washin'ton give a speech here onct, an' I was dar, but de
Niggers made sich a fuss over him I couldn't take in what he said.

Asked what he thinks about slavery, now that it is over, he replied: "I think it is all
right. God intended it. De white folks run de Injuns out, but dey is comin' back for sho'.
God said every nation shall go to deir own land 'fore de end.

"I just jined de church right lately. I had cut de buck when I was a young chap,
and God has promised us two places, heb' en an' hell. I thinks it would be scand'lbus for
anybody to go to hell, so I 'cided to jine up wid de crowd goin' to neb'en."

After the interview, he called to a little Negro boy that had wandered into the
house: "Moses! gimme a drink of water! Fotch me a chaw of 'bacco, Missie done tuck me
up de crick, down de branch, now she's a gwine 'roun'. Hurry! boy, do as I say, gimme
dat water. Nigger chillun, dis day an' time, is too lazy to earn deir bread. I was sorry to
see you come, Missie 'cause my chest was a hurtin' so bad, but now I'se sorry to see you
go." Out of breath, he was silent for a moment, then grinned and said: "I was just lookin'
at de Injun on dis here nickle, you done gimme. He looks so happy! Good-bye, Missie,
hurry an' come back! You helped dis old Nigger lots, but my chest sho' do hurt."

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