From the WPA Slave
Narratives:
Prince Johnson
"Yes, mam, I sure can tell you all about it 'cause I was there when it all
happened. My grandfather Peter, Grandmother Millie, my Father, John, and my
Mother, Frances, all came from Alabama to Yazoo County, Mississippi, to live
in the Love family. There names were Dennis when they came but after the
custom of them days, they took the name of Love from their new owner. Me and
all of my brothers and sisters were born right there. There were eleven head
of us. I was the oldest. Then came Harry, John, William, Henry, Phillis,
Polly, Nellie, Virginia, Millie, and the baby Ella. We all lived in the
quarters and our beds were home made. They had wooden legs and canvas
stretched across. I can't remember so much about the quarters because about
that time the young Miss married Col. Johnson and moved to his place in
Carroll County. She carried with her over one hundred head of darkies and our
names was changed from Love to Johnson. My new master was sure a fine
gentleman and he lived in a big white house that had two stories on it, and
big white posts in front. There were flowers all around it that just set it
off.
Master took me for the house boy, and I carried my head high. He would say to
me. "Prince, do you know who you were named for", and I would say to him, "Yes
sir, Prince Albert." And then he would say to me, "Well, always carry yourself
like he did." To this good day I holds myself like Master said.
On certain days of the week one of the old men on the place took us house
servants to the field to learn us to work. We was brought up to know how to do
anything that came to hand. Master would let us work at odd times for out
siders and we could use the money we made for anything we pleased. My
grandmother sold enough corn to buy her two feather beds. We always had plenty
to eat. The old folks did the cooking for all the field hands, 'cept on Sunday
when each family cooked for his self. Old Miss would come every Sunday morning
with sugar and white flour. We would most generally have fish, rabbits,
'possums or coons. Lord Child! those possums was good eating. I can tate them
now. Folks these days don't know nothing about good eating. My master had a
great big garden for every body and I ain't never seen such sweet 'tatoes as
grew in that garden. They were so sweet the sugar would bust right through the
peeling when you roast them on the hearth. Old Aunt Emily cooked for all the
children on the place. Half an hour by the sun, they were all called in to
supper. They had pot licker and ash cake and such things as would make them
grow to be strong and healthy. Those children didn't know nothing about all
those fancy ailments what children have now. They ran and played all day in
their shirt tails in the summer time, but when winter came they had good warm
clothes same as us older ones. One day Master's children and all the colored
children slipped off to the orchard. They were eating green apples fast as
they could swallow, when who should come riding up but Master himself. He
lined them all up, black and white alike, and cut a keen switch and there was
not a one in that line that didn't get a few licks. Then he called the old
doctor woman and made her give them every one a dose of medicine. There wasn't
one of them that got sick. Master and old Miss had five children. They are all
dead and gone now, and I am still here. One of his sons was a Supreme Judge
before he died. My folks were sure quality. Master bought all the little
places around us so he wouldn't have no poor white trash neighbors. Yes sir!
he owned about thirty-five hundred acres and at least a hundred and fifty
slaves. Every morning about four o'clock we could hear that horn blow for us
to get up and go to the field. We always quit work before the sun went down,
and never worked at night. The overseer was a white man. His name was Josh
Neighbors, but the driver was a colored man, "Old Man Henry." He wasn't
allowed to mistreat nobody. If he got too upety they called his hand right
now. The rule was if a nigger wouldn't work he would be sold. Another rule on
that place was that if a man got dissatisfied he was to go to old Master and
ask him to put him in his pocket. That meant he wanted to be sold, and the
money he brought to be put in the pocket. I ain't never known of but two
asking to be put in the pocket, and both of them was put in.
They had jails in those days but they were built for white folk. No colored
person was ever put in one of them 'till after the War. We didn't know nothing
about them things. 'Course old Miss knowed about them 'cause she knowed
everything. I recollect she told me one day that she had learning in five
different languages. None of us didn't have no learning at all. That is, we
didn't have no book learning. There wasn't no teachers or anything of that
kind, but we sure were taught to be Christians. Everything on that place was a
blue stocking Presbyterian. When Sunday came we dressed all clean and nice and
went to Church. There wasn't no separate church for the colored. We went to
the white folks church and set in the gallery. We had a fine preacher. His
name was Cober. He could sure give out the words of wisdom. We didn't have big
baptizings like was had on heaps of the places, 'cause Presbyterians don't go
down under the water like the Baptist does. Old Miss wouldn't stand for no
such things as voodoo and "hants". When she inspected us once a week, you
better not have no charm round your heck. She would not as much as let us wear
a bag of asafetida, and most folks believed that would keep off sickness. She
called such as that superstition and she says we was enlightened Christian
Presbyterians and as such we must conduct ourselves. She didn't want to hear
of no stories being told 'bout "hants" and ghosts cause there wan't no such
things. I speck she was right 'cause I ain't never seed one in all the ninety
years I've been living. If one of the slaves died he was sure given a grand
Christian funeral. All of us mourners were there. Services were conducted by
the white preacher. Just before the war came on, my Master called me to him
and told me he was going to take me to North Carolina to his brother for safe
keeping. Right then I knowed something was wrong, and I was wishing from the
bottom of my heart the 'Publicans would stay out of our business and not get
us all 'sturbed in the mind.
Nobody worked after dinner on Saturday. We took that time to scrub ourselves
and our houses so as to be ready for inspection Sunday morning. Some Saturday
nights we had dances. The same old fiddler played for us that played for the
white folks. And could he play! When he got that old fiddle out you couldn't
keep your foots still. When Christmas came that was the time of all times on
that old plantation. They don't have no such as that now. Every child brought
a stocking up to the big house to be filled. They all wanted one of Old
Miss'es stockings cause now she weighted near on to three hundred pounds.
Candy was put in piles for each person. When their names were called they
walked up and got it, and everything there was for him besides. We didn't work
on New Year's day. We could go to town or anywhere we liked, but we didn't
have no kind of celebration. The most fun a person can have is at a "corn
shucking". You have two captains and they each choose the ones they want on
their side. Then the shucking begins. The last one I 'tended, the side I was
on beat by three barrels. We put our Captain on our shoulders and rode him up
and down while every body cheered and clapped their hands like the world was
coming to an end. You can't make mention of nothing good that we didn't have
to eat after the "shucking." I studies about those days now. The big parties
at the white folks house, and me all dressed up with tallow on my face to make
it shine, serving the guests. Just when everything was going on fine a sad
thing happened. A thing I ain't never made mention of before. My young Misses,
Miss Farrell, the one named for her Ma, ups and runs off and marries the son
of the Irish ditcher that dug all the ditches on the place. My Miss wouldn't
have done that if they had let her married the man she wanted to. They didn't
think he was good enough for her, so just to spite them, she marries the son
of the Irish ditcher. Old Miss wouldn't have nothing more to do with her, same
as if she wasn't her own child, but I would go over to see her, and carry her
milk, and things out of the garden. It was pitiful to see my Miss poor and
when I couldn't stand it no longer, I walks right up to Old Miss, and I says,
"Old Miss, does you know Miss Farrell ain't got no cow." She just set there
like she ain't heard me, and put her lips together tight as she could, but she
won't say nothing, so I couldn't do no more but walk off and leave her. Pretty
soon she called, "Prince!" I says, "Yes, mam". She says, "Seeing you is so
concerned 'bout Miss Farrell not having no cow you better take one to her." I
says, "Where is the rope." She says, "I don't know nothing 'bout no rope." I
found the rope and carried the best cow and calf in the lot to Miss Farrell.
Shortly after that I left with Old Master to go to North Carolina.
Things went on on his brother's place pretty much as they did at home. I
stayed there all four years of the war, and longer. I couldn't leave because
the men folks all went to war and I had to stay and protect the women folks.
The day peace was declared wagon loads of people rode all through the place
telling us we was free, and that we didn't have no more Miss and Master. The
old Colonel was killed in battle and his wife had died. The young Master
called us in and said it was all true, that we were free as he was, and we
could leave when ever we got ready. He said his money wasn't good any more and
he didn't have no other money to pay us with. I can't recollect whether he got
new money and paid us or not, but I do 'member we every last one of us stayed.
I never left that place till my young master, Mr. Jim Johnson, the one that
was the Supreme Judge, came for me. He was living then in South Carolina. He
took us all home with him. We got there in time to vote for Gov. Wade
Hamilton. We put him in office too. I have seen a many patrol in my life time,
but they never did have enough nerve to come on uses place. Now the Ku Klux
was different. I have ridden with them a many a time. It was the only way in
them days to keep order. When I was about twenty-two years old, I married
Clara Breaden. I had two children by her, Diana, and Davis. My second wife's
name was Annie Bet Woods. I had six children by her. Mary, Ella, John D.,
Claud, William, and Prince, Jr. Three boys and two girls are still living. I
live with my daughter Claud who is farming a place about five miles from
Clarksdale. I have about fifteen head of grandchildren and ever last one of
them is farmers. Things is all peaceful now, but the world was sure stirred up
when Abraham Lincoln was elected. I remember well when they killed him. We had
a song about him that went like this:
"Jefferson Davis rode the milk white steed,
Lincoln rode the mule,
Jef Davis was a mighty fine man,
And Lincoln was a fool."
One of the little girls was singing that song one day and she mixed them names
up. She had it that Davis was the fool. I have laughed about that a many a
time. When Misses finished with her she had sure broke her from sucking eggs.
When things all got peaceful like I begun yearning to get back to my old home
in Mississippi, so I came and I been here ever since. Maybe things is better
as they is today. Most folks says so any way, but if Old Master was living, I
for one would be better off. I can hear him say to me now, "Prince Albert, who
is you named for. Well then hold your head high so folks can see you is
aristocratic."
When I got back to Mississippi, I went in with a man named Mr. Jim Somerville.
The first thing I done was to join the Democrat Club at Carrollton. Yes Sir, I
joined that Club, put on the red shirt, and hoped them run all of the
scalawags away from there. My young master had always told me to live for my
country. I had seed too much of that war, not to know all about what was going
on. For three years of the time, I had hauled food for the soldiers. I went
behind old Uncle Joe, who had charge of it, and it was him who corrected me
but I sure did that for three years. After everything got quiet and peaceful
like in Mississippi, I started farming on Mr. Armstrong's place. He was a big
rich man what lived near Vaiden. He sure treated the folks on his place fair
and square. I bought 360 acres of land from him. I is a nigger what has sure
been prosperous in my life. Besides the land I had, I owned 30 head of cattle,
14 mules and 60 hogs. Every year I was making 125 bales of cotton. I was
bringing up my family right; teaching my children to be good Blue Stocking
Presbyterians. For thirty years I stayed right there, always making a good
living. All around the country I was knowed and everybody had confidence in
me.
Every year I would take five of the white misses over to French Camp to
school. We traveled in a wagon. The trip was too long to make in one day. We
would stop at Mr. Stone's house where the young ladies would spend the night
and I stayed with a friend of mine nearby. Early the next morning we would get
started and continue on our journey to the school. I sure did take just as
good care of those young Misses as their mother could have. In all the trips I
made with them, there ain't never so much as a hair in one of their heads been
harmed. I 'spected to spend the rest of my days right there on the same place,
but you never can tell in this life whats going to happen. During the
Cleveland Administration, cotton went to a nickle a pound. That was the year I
lost my land. Mr. Armstrong went broke, and I went right down with him. We was
both plumb busted. I crossed over the creek and bought me a place for $1,500,
trying to see if I couldn't get on my feet again. That man I bought from sure
did treat me bad. My young master came to see 'bout me, and he told me there
warn't no use my paying no more on that place 'cause they ain't never made me
out no bond for title.
No matter how much I paid it wouldn't do no good without the bond for title.
Any man what would do the like of that can't 'speck their children to come to
no good. I left that place and went to the Dike plantation near Drew. I was
anxious to get to the Delta 'cause the boll weevil was getting bad where I
was. I made two crops there in the year 1922-23. They treated me bad there
too. I made 76 bales of cotton, and didn't get my seed money. From there we
went from place to place, working as share croppers. Things was so bad during
the depression it was hard to make a living anywhere. Four or five years ago
we moved on this place with Mr. Mays, and we is getting along tollible well
here. My crop is good and I's got a nice garden. Them nice tender greens what
you see there I planted on the last day of August.
You was asking me about the slave uprisings. I knows what you mean about that,
and thats all. Never in my life has I seed anything like that. Never, never,
never! Where I was brought up, the white man knowed his place, and we knowed
ours. Both of us stayed in our place, and we didn't have no lynchings.
Suppose from the way he used the expression, he meant common sense.
I show do know all about Booker T. Washington. He came to Mississippi once and
held his meeting in Jackson. Me and my Presbyterian Minister went to Jackson
to that meeting. He made a grand talk. Everything he said was helpful to the
colored race. If we had taken his teaching we would have been better off
today. He made mention about putting money in the Bank. Said every darkie from
a cook on should save some money. Lots of darkies made memberance of that, and
did it. He also told us the first thing for us to learn was to work. He says
all the schooling in the world won't help none if you ain't got no mother wit*
and if you didn't know how to meet a good hog when you sees one. All his
teachings was rightful not only to the colored, but white folks says so too.
Its a pity we ain't got more folks like Booker T. to guide us now that we
ain't got no Old Miss and Master to do so.
Interviewer: Unknown
Transcribed by Ann Allen Geoghegan
Mississippi Narratives
Prepared by
The Federal Writer’s Project of
The Works Progress Administration
For the State of Mississippi
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"If you teach them where they come from, they won't need as much help finding where they are going!" Cordelia Carothers " Aunt Dee" Geoghegan (1894-1987)
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