Emmaline Kilpatrick
From:
Georgia
[HW: Dist 1
Ex-Slave #62]
EX-SLAVE INTERVIEW:
EMMALINE KILPATRICK, Age 74
Born a slave on the plantation of
Judge William Watson Moore,
White Plains, (Greene County) Georgia
BY: SARAH H. HALL
ATHENS, GA.
[Date Stamp: MAY 8 1937]
One morning in October, as I finished planting hyacinth bulbs on my
cemetery lot, I saw an old negro woman approaching. She was Emmaline
Kilpatrick, born in 1863, on my grandfather's plantation.
"Mawnin' Miss Sarah," she began, "Ah seed yer out hyar in de graveyard,
en I cum right erlong fer ter git yer ter read yo' Aunt Willie's
birthday, offen her toomstone, en put it in writin' fer me."
"I don't mind doing that for you, Emmaline," I replied, "but why do you
want to know my aunt's birthday?"
"Well," answered the old ex-slave, "I can't rightly tell mah age no
udder way. My mammy, she tole me, I wuz bawned de same night ez Miss
Willie wuz, en mammy allus tole me effen I ever want ter know how ole I
is, jes' ask my white folks how ole Miss Willie is."
When I had pencilled the birthdate on a scrap of paper torn from my note
book and she had tucked it carefully away in a pocket in her clean blue
checked gingham apron, Emmaline began to talk of the old days on my
grandfather's farm.
"Miss Sarah, Ah sho did love yo' aunt Willie. We wuz chilluns growin' up
tergedder on Marse Billie's place. You mought not know it, but black
chilluns gits grown heap faster den white chilluns, en whilst us played
'round de yard, en orchards, en pastures out dar, I wuz sposed ter take
care er Miss Willie en not let her git hurt, er nuthin' happen ter her."
"My mammy say dat whan Marse Billie cum hom' frum de War, he call all
his niggers tergedder en tell 'am dey is free, en doan b'long ter nobody
no mo'. He say dat eny uf 'um dat want to, kin go 'way and live whar dey
laks, en do lak dey wanter. Howsome ebber, he do say effen enybody wants
ter stay wid him, en live right on in de same cabins, dey kin do it,
effen dey promise him ter be good niggers en mine him lak dey allus
done."
"Most all de niggers stayed wid Marse Billie, 'ceppen two er thee brash,
good fer nuthin's."
Standing there in the cemetery, as I listened to old Emmaline tell of
the old days, I could see cotton being loaded on freight cars at the
depot. I asked Emmaline to tell what she could remember of the days whan
we had no railroad to haul the cotton to market.
"Well," she said, "Fore dis hyar railroad wuz made, dey hauled de cotton
ter de Pint (She meant Union Point) en sold it dar. De Pint's jes' 'bout
twelve miles fum hyar. Fo' day had er railroad thu de Pint, Marse Billie
used ter haul his cotton clear down ter Jools ter sell it. My manny say
dat long fo' de War he used ter wait twel all de cotton wuz picked in de
fall, en den he would have it all loaded on his waggins. Not long fo'
sundown he wud start de waggins off, wid yo' unker Anderson bossin' 'em,
on de all night long ride towards Jools. 'Bout fo' in de mawnin' Marse
Billie en yo' grammaw, Miss Margie, 'ud start off in de surrey, driving
de bays, en fo' dem waggins git ter Jools Marse Billie done cotch up wid
em. He drive er head en lead em on ter de cotton mill in Jools, whar he
sell all his cotton. Den him en Miss Margie, dey go ter de mill sto' en
buy white sugar en udder things dey doan raise on de plantation, en load
'em on de waggins en start back home."
"But Emmaline," I interrupted, "Sherman's army passed through Jewels and
burned the houses and destroyed the property there. How did the people
market their cotton then?"
Emmaline scratched her head. "Ah 'members somepin 'bout dat," she
declared. "Yassum, I sho' does 'member my mammy sayin' dat folks sed
when de Fed'rals wuz bunnin' up evvy thing 'bout Jools, dey wuz settin'
fire ter de mill, when de boss uv dem sojers look up en see er sign up
over er upstairs window. Hit wuz de Mason's sign up day, kaze dat wuz de
Mason's lodge hall up over de mill. De sojer boss, he meks de udder
sojers put out de fire. He say him er Mason hisself en he ain' gwine see
nobuddy burn up er Masonic Hall. Dey kinder tears up some uv de fixin's
er de Mill wuks, but dey dassent burn down de mill house kaze he ain't
let 'em do nuthin' ter de Masonic Hall. Yar knows, Miss Sarah, Ah wuz
jes' 'bout two years ole when dat happen, but I ain't heered nuffin'
'bout no time when dey didden' take cotton ter Jools ever year twel de
railroad come hyar."
"Did yer ax me who mah'ed my maw an paw? Why, Marse Billie did, cose he
did! He wuz Jedge Moore, Marse Billie wuz, en he wone gwine hev no
foolis'mant 'mongst 'is niggers. Fo' de War en durin' de War, de niggers
went ter de same church whar dare white folks went. Only de niggers, dey
set en de gallery."
"Marse Billie made all his niggers wuk moughty hard, but he sho' tuk
good keer uv 'em. Miss Margie allus made 'em send fer her when de
chilluns wuz bawned in de slave cabins. My mammy, she say, Ise 'bout de
onliest slave baby Miss Margie diden' look after de bawnin, on dat
plantation. When any nigger on dat farm wuz sick, Marse Billie seed dat
he had medicine an lookin' atter, en ef he wuz bad sick Marse Billie had
da white folks doctor come see 'bout 'im."
"Did us hev shoes? Yas Ma'am us had shoes. Dat wuz all ole Pegleg wuz
good fer, jes ter mek shoes, en fix shoes atter dey wuz 'bout ter give
out. Pegleg made de evvy day shoes for Marse Billie's own chilluns,
'cept now en den Marse Billie fetched 'em home some sto' bought shoes
fun Jools."
"Yassum, us sho' wuz skeered er ghosts. Dem days when de War won't long
gone, niggers sho' wus skert er graveyards. Mos' evvy nigger kep' er
rabbit foot, kaze ghosties wone gwine bodder nobuddy dat hed er lef'
hind foot frum er graveyard rabbit. Dem days dar wuz mos' allus woods
'round de graveyards, en it uz easy ter ketch er rabbit az he loped
outer er graveyard. Lawsy, Miss Sarah, dose days Ah sho' wouldn't er
been standin' hyar in no graveyard talkin' ter ennybody, eben in wide
open daytime."
"En you ax wuz dey enny thing else uz wuz skert uv? Yassum, us allus did
git moughty oneasy ef er scritch owl hollered et night. Pappy ud hop
right out er his bed en stick de fire shovel en de coals. Effen he did
dat rat quick, an look over 'is lef' shoulder whilst de shovel gittin'
hot, den maybe no no nigger gwine die dat week on dat plantation. En us
nebber did lak ter fine er hawse tail hair en de hawse trough, kaze us
wuz sho' ter meet er snake fo' long."
"Yassum, us had chawms fer heap er things. Us got 'em fum er ole Injun
'oman dat lived crost de crick. Her sold us chawms ter mek de mens lak
us, en chawms dat would git er boy baby, er anudder kind er chawms effen
yer want er gal baby. Miss Margie allus scold 'bout de chawns, en mek us
shamed ter wear 'em, 'cept she doan mine ef us wear asserfitidy chawms
ter keep off fevers, en she doan say nuffin when my mammy wear er nutmeg
on a wool string 'round her neck ter keep off de rheumatiz.
"En is you got ter git on home now, Miss Sarah? Lemme tote dat hoe en
trowel ter yer car fer yer. Yer gwine ter take me home in yer car wid
yer, so ez I kin weed yer flower gyarden fo' night? Yassum, I sho' will
be proud ter do it fer de black dress you wo' las' year. Ah gwine ter
git evvy speck er grass outer yo' flowers, kaze ain' you jes' lak yo'
grammaw--my Miss Margie."
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Frances Kimbrough
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Jennie Kendricks
