Name: Vinson, Addie

Address: 653 Dearing Street Athens, Georgia

Age: 86

Written by: Mrs. Sadie B. Hornsby Athens, Georgia

Edited by: Mrs. Sarah H. Hall (Athens, Georgia) and John N. Booth (WPA Residency No. 6 & 7)

Citation: Federal Writers' Project: Slave Narrative Project, Vol. 4, Part 4, Telfair-Young (1936), Library of Congress, Manuscript/Mixed Material. http://hdl.loc.gov/loc.mss/mesn.044

Interview

Perched on an embankment high above the street level is the four-room frame
cottage where Addie Vinson lives with her daughter. The visitor scrambled up the steep
incline to the vine covered porch, and a rap on the front door brought prompt response.

"Who dat?" asked a very black woman, who suddenly appeared in the hall. "What you
want?.... Yassum, dis here's Addie, but dey calls me Mammy, 'cause I'se so old. I s'pects
I'se most nigh a hunnert and eight years old."

The old Negress is very short and stout. Her dark blue calico dress was striped
with lines of tiny polka dots, and had been lengthened by a band of light blue outing
flannel with a darker blue stripe, let in just below the waist line. Her high-topped black
shoes were worn over grey cotton hose, and the stocking cap that partially concealed her
white hair was crowned by a panama hat that flopped down on all sides except where the
brim was fastened up across the front with two conspicuous "safety-first" pins. Addie's
eyesight is poor, and she claims it was "plum ruint by de St. Vitus's dance," from which
she has suffered for many years. She readily agreed to tell of her early life, and her eyes
brightened as she began: "Lawsy, Missy! Is dat what you come 'ere for? Oh, dem good
old days! I was thinkin' 'bout Old Miss jus' t'other day.

"I was borned down in Oconee County on Marse Ike Vinson's place. Old Miss
was Marse Ike's mother. My Mammy and Pappy was Peter and 'Nerva Vinson and dey
was both field hands. Marse Ike buyed my Pappy from Marse Sam Brightwell. Me and
Bill, Willis, Maze, Harrison, Easter, and Sue was all de chillun my Mammy and Pappy
had. Dere warn't but four of us big enough to wuk when Marse Ike married Miss Ann
Hayes and dey tuk Mammy wid 'em to dey new home in town. I stayed dar on de
plantation and done lots of little jobs lak waitin' on table; totin' Old Miss' breakfast to her
in her room evvy mornin', and I helped 'tend to de grainery. Dey says now dat folkses is
livin' in dat old grainery house.

"Dat was a be-yootiful place, wid woods, bricks, and fields spread out most as fur
as you could see. De slave quarters would'a reached from here to Milledge Avenue. Us
lived in a one-room log cabin what had a chimbly made out of sticks and mud. Dem
homemade beds what us slep' on had big old high posties wid a great big knob on de top
of each post. Our matt'esses was coarse home-wove cloth stuffed wid field straw. You
know I laked dem matt'esses 'cause when de chinches got too bad you could shake out dat
straw and burn it, den soald de tick and fill it wid fresh straw, and rest in peace again.
You can't never git de chinches out of dese cotton matt'esses us has to sleep on now days.
Pillows? What you talkin' 'bout? You know Niggers never had no pillows dem days,
leaseways us never had none. Us did have plenty of of kivver dough. Folkses was all time
a-piecin' quilts and having quiltin's. All dat sort of wuk was done at night.

"Pappy's Ma and Pa was Grandma Nancy and Grandpa Jacob. Day was field
hands, and dey b'longed to Marse Obe Jackson. Grandma Lucy and Grandpa Toney
Murrah was owned by Marse Billy Murrah. Marse Billy was a preacher what sho could
come down wid de gospel at church. Grandma Lucy was his cook. Miss Sadie LeSeur got
Grandma Lucy and tuk her to Columbus, Georgy, and us never seed our grandma no
more. Miss Badie had been one of de Vinson gals. She tuk our Aunt Haley 'long too to
wait on her when she started out for Europe, and 'fore dey got crost de water, Aunt Haley,
she died on de boat. Miss Sarah, she had a time keepin' dem boatsmens from th'owing
Aunt Haley to de sharks. She is buried in de old country somewhar.

"Now Missy, how was Nigger chillun gwine to git holt of money in slavery ti me?
Old Marse, he give us plenty of somepin t'eat and all de clothes us needed, but he sho
kep' his money for his own self.

"Now 'bout dat somepin t'eat. She dat! Us had plenty of dem good old collards,
turnips, and dem sort of oatments, and dar was allus a good chunk of meat to bile wid
'em. Marse Ike, he kep' plenty of evvy sort of meat folkses knowed about dem days. He
had his own beef cattle, lots of sheep, and he killed more'n a hunnert hogs evvy year. Dey
tells me dat old bench dey used to lay de meat out on to out it up is standin' dar yet.

"'Possums? Lawd, dey was plentiful, and dat ain't all dere was on dat plantation.
One time a slave man was 'possum huntin' and, as he was runnin' 'round in de bresh, he
looked up and dar was a b'ar standin' right up on his hind laigs grinnin' and ready to eat
dat Nigger up. Oh, good gracious, how dat Nigger did run! Dey fetched in 'possums in
piles, and dere was lots of rabbits, fixes, and coons. Dem coon, fox and 'possum hounds
sho knowed deir business. Lawsy, I kin jus' smell one of dem good old 'possums roastin'
right now, atter all dese years. You parbiled de 'possum fust, and den roasted him in a
heavy iron skillet what had a big old thick lid. Jus' 'fore de 'possum got done, you peeled
ash-roasted 'taters and put 'em all 'round de 'possum so as dey would soak up some of dat
good old gravy, and would git good and brown. Is you ever et any good old ashcake?
You wropped de raw hoecake in cabbage or collard leafs and roasted 'em in de ashes.
When dey got done, you had somepin fit for a king to eat.

"De kitchen was sot'off a piece from de big house, and our white folkses wouldn't
eat deir supper 'fore time to light de lamps to save your life; den I had to stan' 'hind Old
Miss' cheer and fan her wid a turkey-feather fan to keep de flies off. No matter how rich
folkses was dem days dere warn't no screens in de houses.

"I never will forgit pore old Aunt Mary; she was our cock, and she had to be
tapped evvy now and den 'cause she had de drapsy so bad. Aunt Mary's old man was
Uncle Harris, and I 'members how he used to go fishin' at night. De udder slaves went
fishin' too. Many's de time I'se seed my Mammy come back from Barber's Crick wid a
string of fish draggin' from her shoulders down to de ground. Me, I laked milk more'n
anything else. You jus' oughta seed dat place at milkin' time. Dere was a heap of cows a
fightin', chillun hollerin', and sich a bedlam as you can't think up. Dat old plantation was
a grand place for chillun, in summertime 'specially, 'cause dere was so many branches
and cricks close by what us chillun could hop in and cool off.

"Chillun didn't wear nothin' but cotton slips in summer, but de winter clothes was
good and warm. Under our heavy winter dresses us wore quilted underskirts dat was sho
nice and warm. Sunday clothes? Yes Mar'm, us allus had nice clothes for Sunday. Dey
made up our summertime Sunday dresses out of a thin cloth called Sunday-parade. Dey
was made spenser fashion, wid ruffles 'round de neck and waist. Our ruffled petticoats
was all starched and ironed stiff and slick, and us jus' knowed our long pantalettes, wid
deir scalloped ruffles, was mighty fine. Some of de 'omans would wuk fancy eyelets what
dey punched in de scallops wid locust thorns. Dem pantalettes was buttoned on to our
drawers. Our Sunday dresses for winter was made out of linsey-woolsey cloth. White
ladies wore hoopskirts wid deir dresses, and dey looked lak fairy queens. Boys wore plain
shirts in summer, but in winter dey had warmer shirts and quilted pants. Dey would put
two pair of britches togedder and quilt 'em up so you couldn't tell what sort of cloth dey
was made out of. Dem pants was called suggins.

"All de Niggers went barfoots in summer, but in winter us all wore brogans. Old
Miss had a shoe shop in de cellar under de big house, and when dem two white 'omans
dat she hired to make our shoes come, us knowed wintertime was nigh. Dem 'omans
would stay 'til dey had made up shoes enough to last us all winter long, den dey would go
on to de next place what dey s'pected to make shoes.

"Marse Ike Vinson was sho good to his Niggers. He was de hanger, 'cept he never
hung nobody. Him and Miss Ann had six chillun. Dey was Miss Lucy, Miss Myrt, Miss
Sarah, Miss Nettie, Marse Charlie, and Marse Tom. Marse Ike's ma, Old Miss, wouldn't
move to town wid him and Miss Ann; she stayed on in de big house on de plantation. To
tell de truf I done forgot Old Miss' name. De overseer and his wife was Mr. Edmond and
Miss Betsey, and dey moved up to de big house wid old Miss atter Marse Ike and Miss
Ann moved to town. Stiles Vinson was de carriage driver, and he fotched Marse Ike out
to de plantation evvy day. Lord! Gracious alive! It would take a week to walk all over dat
plantation. Dere was more'n a thousand acres in it and, countin' all de chillun, dere was
mighty nigh a hunnert slaves.

"Long 'fore day, dat overseer blowed a bugle to wake up de Niggers. You could
hear it far as High Shoals, and us lived dis side of Watkinsville. Heaps of folkses all over
dat part of de country got up by dat old bugle. I will never forgit one time when de
overseer said to us chillun: 'You fellows go to do field and fetch some corn tops.' Mandy
said: 'He ain't talkin' to us 'cause us ain't fellows and I ain't gwine.' Bless your sweet life, I
runned and got dem corn tops, 'cause I didn't want no beatin'. Dem udder chillun got deir
footses most cut off wid dem switches when dat overseer got to wuk to sho 'em dey had
to obey him. Dat overseer sho did wuk de Niggers hard; he driv' 'em all de time. Dey had
to go to de field long 'fore sunup, and it was way atter sundown 'fore dey could stop dat
field wuk. Den dey had to hustle to finish deir night wuk in time for supper, or go to bed
widout it.

"You know dey whupped Niggers den. Atter dey had done wukked hard in de
fields all day long, de beatin' started up, and he allus had somepin in mind to beat 'em
about. When dey beat my Aunt Sallie she would fight back, and once when Uncle
Randall said somepin he hadn't oughta, dat overseer beat him so bad he couldn't wuk for
a week. He had to be grez all over evvy day wid hoalin' ointment for a long time 'fore
dem gashes got well.

"Rita and Retta was de Nigger 'omans what put pizen in some collards what dey
give Aunt Vira and her baby to eat. She had been laughin' at a man 'cause his coattail was
a-flappin' so funny whilst he was dancin', and dem two Jezebels thought she was makin'
fun of dem. At de graveyard, 'fore dey buried her, dey out her open and found her heart
was all decayed.

De overseer driv dem 'omans clear off de plantation, and Marster, he was mighty
mad. He said he had done lost 'bout $2,000. If he had kotched dem 'omans he woulda
hung 'em, cause he was de hanger. In 'bout two weeks dat overseer left dar, and Old
Marse had to git him anudder man to take his place.

"Sho! Dere was a jail for slaves and a hangin' place right in front of de jail, but
none of Old Marster's Niggers warn't never put in no jailhouse. Oh God! Yes, dey sold
slaves. My own granddaddy was made to git up on dat block, and dey sold him. One time
I seed Old Marse buy four boys." At this point the narrative ceased when Addie suddenly
remembered that she must stop to get supper for the daughter, who would soon be
returning from work.

The visitor called early in the morning of the following day, and found Addie bent
over her washtubs in the back yard. "Have dat cheer," was the greeting as the old Negress
lifted a dripping hand to point out a chair under the spreading branches of a huge oak
tree, "You knows you don't want to hear no more 'bout dat old stuff," she said, "and
anyhow, is you gittin' paid for doin' dis?" When the visitor admitted that these interviews
were part of her salaried work, Addie quickly asked: "What is you gwine to give me?"
When the last piece of wash had been hung on the line and Addie had turned a
large lard can upside down for a stool, she settled down and began to talk freely.

"No Ma'm, dey didn't low Niggers to larn how to read and write. I had to go wid
de white chillun to deir school on Hog Mountain road evvy day to wait on 'em. I to ted
water for 'em kep' de fire goin', and done all sorts of little jobs lak dat. Miss Martha, de
overseer's daughter, tried to larn me to read and write, but I wouldn't take it in.

"No Ma'm dere warn't no churches for Niggers in slavery time, so slaves had to go
to deir white folkses churches. Us went to church at Betty Berry (Bethabara) and Mars
Hill. When time come for de sermon to de Niggers, sometimes de white folkses would
leave and den again dey would stay, but dat overseer, he was dar all de time. Old man
Isaac Vandiver, a Nigger preacher what couldn't read a word in de Bible, would git up in
dat pulpit and talk from his heart. You know dere's heaps of folkses what's got dat sort of
'ligion - it's deep in deir hearts. De Reverend Freeman was de white folkses' preacher. I
laked him best, for what he said allus sounded good to me.

"At funerals us used to sing Hark From De Tomb A Doleful Sound. I never went
to no funerals, but Old Marster's and Aunt Nira's, 'fore de and of de war.

"When Old Marster went off to de war, he had all his slaves go to de musterin'
ground to see him leave. He was captain of his company from Oconee County, and 'fore
he left he had de mens in dat company bury deir silver and gold, deir watches, rings, and
jus' anything dey wanted to keep, on Hog Mountain. He lef' a guard to watch de hidin'
place so as dey would have somepin when dey come back home, den dey marched back
to de musterin' ground dat was twixt de Hopkins' plantation and Old Marster's place.
Uncle Solomon went along to de war to tote Marster's gun, cook for him, and sich lak. It
warn't long 'fore old Marse was kilt in dat war, and Uncle Solomon fetches him back in a
coffin. All de slaves dat went to de buryin' jus' trembled when guns was fired over Old
Marster's grave. Dat was done to show dat Old Marster had been a powerful high-up man
in de army.

"Good Gracious! Dere didn't nary a Nigger go off from our place to de North,
'cause us was skeered of dem Yankees. Dere was a white slave-trader named McRaleigh
what used to come to Old Marster's plantation to buy up Niggers to take 'em to de
Mississippi bottoms. When us seed him comin' us lit out for we woods. He got Aunt
Rachel; you could hear her hollerin' a mile down de road.

"Oh! Good Lord! Dem patterollers was awful. Folkses what dey cotched widout
no paper, dey jus' plum wore out. Old man John was de fiddler on our place, and when de
patterollers cotched him dey beat him up de wust of all, 'cause him and his fiddle was all
de time drawin' Niggers out to do dances.

"If Old Marster wanted to send a message de sont Uncle Randall on a mule named
Jim. Sometimes dat old mule tuk a notion he didn't want to go; den he wouldn't budge. I
ricollects one time dey tuk a bundle of fodder and tied it to Old Jim's tail, but still he
wouldn't move. Old Marster kep' a special man to fetch and carry mail for de plantation
in a road cyart, and nobody warn't 'lowed to go nigh dat oyart.

"When slaves got in from de fields at night dey cooked and et deir supper and
went to bed. Dey had done been wukin' since sunup. When dere warn't so much to do in
de fields, sometimes old Marster let his Niggers Lay off from wuk atter dinner on
Saddays. If de chinches was most eatin' de Niggers up, now and den de 'omans was
'lowed to stay to de house to seald evvything and clear 'em out, but de manfolkses had to
go on to de field. on Sadday nights de 'omans patched, washed, and out off peaches and
apples to day in fruit season. In de daytime dey had to cut off and dry fruit for Old Miss.
When slaves got shart wid deir white folkses, deir Marsters would have 'em beat, and dat
was de end of de matter. Bat was a heap better'n dey does now days, 'cause if a Nigger
gits out of place dey puts him on de chaingang.

"Sunday was a day off for all de slaves on our plantation. Cause, de mens had to
look atter de stock in de lot right back of de cabins. De 'omans cooked all day for de next
week. If dey tuk a notion to go to church, mules was hitched to wagons made lak dippers,
and dey jigged off down de road. Us had four days holiday for Christmas. Old Miss give
us lots of good things to eat dem four days; dere was cake, fresh meat, and all kinds of
dried fruit what had been done stored away. All de Niggers tuk dat time to rest but my
Mammy. She tuk me and went 'round to de white folkses' houses to wash and weave. Dey
said I was a right smart, peart little gal, and white folkses used to try to hire me from Old
Miss. When dey axed her for me, Old Miss allus told 'em: 'You don't want to hire dat gal;
she ain't no 'count.' She wouldn't let nobody hire her Niggers, 'cept Mammy, 'cause she
knowed Mammy warn't gwine to leave her nohow. On New Year's Day, if dere warn't too
much snow on de ground, de Niggers burnt brush and cleared new ground.

"When Aunt Patience led de singin' at cornshuckin's, de shucks sho'ly did fly.
Atter de corn was shucked dey fed us lots of good things and give us plenty of liquor. De
way cotton pickin' was managed was dis: evvybody dat picked a thousand pounds of
cotton in a week's time was 'lowed a day off. Mammy picked her thousand pounds evvy
week.

"Dances? Now you's talkin' 'bout somepin' sho' 'nough. Old John, de fiddler man,
was right dere on our plantation. Niggers dat had done danced half de night would be so
sleepy when de bugle sounded dey wouldn't have time to cook breakfast. Den 'bout de
middle of de mawnin' dey would complain 'bout bein' so weak and hongry dat de
overseer would fetch 'em in and have 'em fed. He let 'em rest 'bout a hour and a half; den
he marched 'em bach to de field and wuked 'em 'til slap black dark. Aunt Sook was called
de lead wench. If de moon warn't out, she put a white cloth 'round her shoulders and led
'em on.

"Didn't none of Old Marsters chillun marry in slavery time, but Old Miss, she
let'us see a Nigger gal named Frances Hester git married. When I sot down to dat weddin'
supper I flung de chicken bones over my shoulder, 'cause I didn't know no better. I don't
'member what gals played when I was little, but boys played ball all day long if dey was
'lowed to. One boy, named Sam, played and run so hard he tuk his bed Monday and never
got up no more.

"I heared tell of Raw Haid and Bloody Bones. Old folkses would skeer us most
nigh to death tellin' us he was comin'.

Mankind! Us made for de house den. Missy, please mam, don't ax me 'bout dem
ha'nts. I sees 'em all de time. Atter she had done died out, Old Miss Used to come back
all de time. She didn't lak it 'cause day wropped her in a windin' sheet and buried her by
de doorsteps, but I reckon dey done fixed her by now, 'cause she don't come back no
more. Dere's a house in Athens, called de Bell House, dat nobody kin live in, 'cause a
man run his wife from home and atter she died, she come back and ha'nted dat house.

"Lawd have mercy! Look here, don't talk lak dat. I ain't told you before but part o'
dis here yard is conjured. A man comes here early evvy mornin' and dresses dis yard
down wid conjuration. Soon as I sot down here to talk to you, a pain started in my laigs,
and it is done gone all over me now. I started to leave you and go in de house. Come on.
Let's leave dis yard right now. Hurry!" On reaching the kitchen Addie hastily grasped the
pepper box and shook its contents over each shoulder and on her head, saying: "Anything
hot lak dis will sho drive dis spell away. De reason I shakes lak I does, one day I was in
de yard and somepin cotch me. It helt fast to my footses, den I started to shake all over,
and I been shakin' ever since. A white 'oman gimme some white soap, and evvy mornin' I
washes myself good wid dat coap 'fore I puts on my clothes."

Leaving the kitchen, Addie entered the front room which serves as a bedroom.

"Lawdy, Missy!" she exclaimed, "Does you smell dat funny scent? Oh, Good Lawd! Jus'
look at dem white powders on my doorstep! Let me git some hot water and wash 'em out
quick! Now Missy, see how dese Niggers 'round here is allus up to deir meanness? Dere's
a man in de udder room bilin' his pizen right now. I has to keep a eye on him all de time
or dis here old Nigger would be in her grave. I has to keep somepin hot all de time to
keep off dem conjure spells. I got three pids of pepper most ready to pick, and I'se gwine
to tie 'em 'round my neck, den dese here spells folkses is all de time tryin' to put on me
won't do me no harm."

Addie now lowered her voice to a stuge whisper. "I found a folded up piece of
white paper under our back doorstep dis very mornin'. Bless your life, I got a stick from
de kitchen quick and poked it in a crack in de steps and got it out 'fore I put my foots
down on dem steps. I sho did."

Here Addie reverted to her story of the plantation. "Old Marster was mighty good
to his Niggers," she said. When any of 'em got sick Old Miss sont to town for him, and he
allus come right out and fetched a doctor. Old Miss done her very best for Pappy when he
was tuk sick, but he died out jus' de same. Pappy used to drive a oxcart and, when he was
bad off sick and out of his haid, he hollered out: 'Scotch dat wheel! Scotch dat wheel!' In
his mind, he was deep in de bad place den, and didn't know how to pray. Old Miss, she
would say: 'Pray, Pete, Pray.' Old Miss made a heap of teas from diff'unt things lak
pennyroyal, algaroba wood, sassafras, flat tobacco, and mullein. Us wore rabbits foots,
little bags of asfiddy (asafetida), and garlie tabs 'round our necks to keep off mis'ries. I
wishes I had a garlic tab to wear 'round my neck now.

"One day Old Miss called us togedder and told us dat us was free as jay birds. De
Niggers started hollerin': 'Thank de Lawd, us is free as de jay birds.' 'Bout dat time a
white man come along and told dem Niggers if he heared 'em say dat again he would kill
de last one of 'em. Old Miss axed us to stay on wid her and dar us stayed for 'bout three
years. It paid us to stay dere 'stead of runnin' off lak some udder Niggers dat played de
fool done. T'warn't long 'fore dem Yankees come 'long, and us hustled off to town to see
what dey looked lak. I never seed so many mens at one time in my life before. When us
got back to de plantation de overseer told us not to drink no water out of de well, 'cause
somebody had done put a peck of pizen in dar. He flung a whole bushel of salt in de well
to holp git rid of de pizen.

"Atter de end of de war, I went to wuk as a plow-hand. I sho did keep out of de
way of dem Ku Kluxers. Folkses would see 'em comin' and holler out: 'De Ku Kluxers is
ridin' tonight. Keep out of deir way, or dey will sho kill you.' Dem what was skeered of
bein' cotched and beat up, done deir best to stay out of sight.

"It was a long time atter de war was done over 'fore schools for Niggers was sot
up, and den when Nigger chillun did git to go to school dey warn't 'lowed to use de old
blue-back spellin' book 'cause white folkses said it larn't 'em too much.

"It was two or three years atter de war 'fore any of de Niggers could save up
enough money to start buyin' land, and den, if dey didn't watch dey steps mighty keerful,
de white folkses would find a way to git dat land back from de Niggers.

"What! Is I got to tell you 'bout dat old Nigger I got married up wid? I don't want
to talk 'bout dat low down, no 'count devil. Anyhow, I married Ed Criffeth and, sho dat, I
had a weddin'. My weddin' dress was jus' de purtiest thing; it was made out of parade
cloth, and it had a full skirt wid ruffles from de knees to de hem. De waist fitted tight and
it was cut lowneck wid three ruffles 'round de shoulder. Dem puff sleeves was full from
de elbow to de hand. All den ruffles was aidged wid lace and, 'round my waist I wore a
wide pink sash. De underskirt was trimmed wid lace, and dere was lace on de botton of
de drawers laigs. Dat was sho one purty outfit dat I wore to marry dat no 'count man in. I
had bought dat dress from my Young Mist'ess.

"Us had seven chillun and ten grandchillun. Most of 'em is livin' off up in Detroit.
If Ed ain't daid by now he ought to be; he was a good match for de devil.

"I reckon Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Jeff Davis done right as fur as dey knowed how
and could. If dem northern folkses hadn't fotched us here, us sho wouldn't never have
been here in de fust place. Den dey hauled off and said de South was mean to us Niggers
and sot us free, but I don't know no diffunce. De North sho let us be atter dat war, and
some of de old Niggers is still mad 'cause dey is free and ain't got no Marster to feed 'em
and give 'em good warm clothes no more.

"Oh! You gits happy when you jines up wid de church. I sho don't want to go to
de bad place. Dere ain't but two places to go to, Heaven and hell, and I'se tryin' to head
for Heaven. Folkses says dat when Old Dives done so bad he had to go to de bad place, a
dog was sot at his heels for to keep him in dar. No Mam, if it's de Good Lawd's will to let
me git to Heaven, I is sho gwine to keep out of hell, if I kin.

"goodbye, Missy. Next time you comes fetch me a garlic tab to keep de conjure
spells 'way from me," was Addie's parting request.

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