From the WPA Slave
Narratives:
Tom Wilson age 84
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"My name is Tom Wilson an' I'se eighty fo' years old. My mammy was name
Ca'line an' my pappy was Jeff Wilson. Us lived right out on de old Jim Wilson
place, right by New Zion Chu'ch. I lives than now owns me a plot of groun' an'
farms.
"Well, us b'longed to Marse Jim an' Miss Nancy Wilson. I was born right out
thar, but my mammy was brung down frum Ten'see. She come by heir to Marse Jim
but 'fo that her was sol' for ten hun'erd dollars. My mammy was a big sportly
woman an' brung a lot or money an my pappy, he brung nine hun'erd. Marse Jim
bought him offen de block, but I don't know jes whar frum. I jes 'members
'bout hearin' him tell 'bout bein' sol'.
"Bofe of dem was fiel' han's. Law, mammy could plow jes lak a man all day
long; den milk twen'y head or cows afte' she quit de fiel' at night.
"De Big House was made out'n logs an' reckin hit had 'bout seben or eight
rooms in hit, an' de kitchen sot a piece frum de mainest house. Thar was one
brick chimbly an' one dirt one to hit, an' a great big wide po'ch 'cross de
front of de house. I 'member Mis Nancy an' white folks 'ud set out thar of an
evenin' an' mek us li'l cullud chullun dance an' sing an' out capers for to
'muse 'em. Den dey had a trough, built 'bout lak a pig trough, an' dey would
mek de cook bake a gre't big slab or co'n bread an' put hit in de trough an'
po' milk or lasses over hit, an' tu'n us li'l cullud chullun loose on hit. An'
I'se tell'n y' as much of hit went in our hair an' eyes an' years as went in
our moufs.
"I reckin thar was 'bout two or three hun'erd acres in Marse Jim's place. Us
raised cotton, taters, an' hogs. No'm, slaves didn' have no plots or dey own.
Marse Jim give us our rashuns' every week. Well, mos' or de cullud people 'ud
cook dey victuals over de fire place in dey own houses. Us she' did have
'possum an' taters.
"My mammy wuked in de loom room at night by light of a pine knot. In de Big
House dey had taller (tallow) can'les 'cause I 'member my mammy moulded 'em,
No'm, de spinnin' wheels was kep' in de kitchen of de Big House. Hit had a
dirt flo'. Us jes we' li'l old suits made out'n lowell cloth whut mammy wove
on de loom. I doan 'member wearin' no shoes.
"I jes played roun' 'bout de place an' he 'ped wid de cleanin' up an' dish
washin". Kinder house boy, I was.
"When us got sick, mammy made us pills out'a herbs. She taken May apple roots
an' boiled hit down to a syrup; don she let dat dry out an' rolled hit inter
pills. Dey sho' was fin' fo' nos' anything we might have.
"Chris 'mus was a mighty glad time fo' us. Yessum, us got extra rashuns' an'
had time off ter play an' kick our heels. Gen'ly had 'bout a week off. Tell
you what Marse Jim 'ud do when Chris 'mus come 'noun'. He'd son' one or de
cullud mens out to git a log an' say, 'Now long as dis log burn, y'all kin
have off'n wuk'. Co'se us'd hunt de bigges' gum log an' den soak hit in de
stream so hit wud burn on a long time. Dey'd put hit on back or de fire an'
hit wud las' mos' a week.
"Couldn' none of us read or write, an' us wa'nt neber learned 'til afte' us
was set free. Den some went to li'l schools for de cullud people.
"I sho' has seen m' mammy an' lots mo' git whuppins. Marse Jim, he had a strop
or leather stuck in de slit end of a staff, an' he sho' did whup 'em layed
'cross a barrel. Once' m' pappy run away an' Marse Jim got de blood houn's
afte' him, an' catched him up 'fo he could git fur, an' dat day he lay him
'cross de barrel, an' whupped him frum sun up 'til sun down. When he quit off,
m' pappy couldn' talk no more'n a whisper sca'cely.
"Pattyrollers, I heard of 'em allright 'cause dey she' would git you iffen y'
went abroad widout a pass frum Marse Jim.
"One day us li'l cullud chullun was frollicin' out in de front yard an' Mis'
Nancy an' some me' was settin' on de po'ch as' all of a sudden I see somebuddy
comin' down de road an' I says 'Lock, whut's dat?'
"An' white folks run to de woods an' hid out case dey seen hit was Calv'ry
'bout a mile long comin' down de read. Sojer rid right up to me an' stuck his
bay'net at me an' says, "Boy, whar de tater house?" An' I sho' did show him
whar 'twas. Dom sojers sho' was starved. Dey take thirty tater punks, fifteen
or twenty chickens, and five hams. Den dey went in de smoke house an' grabbed
off five or ten poun's or sausage, middlin's, and sides. Dey take 'nough grub
to lead three wagons an'take hit over to New Zion Church 'bout or mile frum
us. An' right thar dey camped that night.
"That was afte' de Siege or Vicksburg. Marse Jim didn' keer, but he sont us
ober nex' mo'nin' to git de leavin's, an' thar was a wagon load or jes de
leavin's.
"I 'members when us was sot free allright. 'Twas in de middle of de winter y'
know, an' Marse Jim was so mad 'bout hit he went off down to a li'l stream or
water an' broke de ice an' jumped in, an' he died 'bout two weeks afte' of de
pewmonia.
"I was glad to git m' freedom 'cause I got out'n frum under den whuppins.
"Afte' dat us bought lan' frum de Wilsons whut was lef' an' I been a fa'min'
thar over since."
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