Minnie Davis
From:
Georgia
PLANTATION LIFE AS VIEWED BY AN EX-SLAVE
MINNIE DAVIS, Age 78
237 Billups St.
Athens, Ga.
Written By:
Mrs. Sadie B. Hornsby
Athens, Georgia
Edited By:
Mrs. Sarah H. Hall
Athens, Georgia
and
John N. Booth
WPA Residencies 6 & 7
August 29, 1938
The bareness of Minnie Davis' yard was relieved by a single rosebush,
and her small house might best be described as a "tumble-down shack." An
unsteady wooden box served as a step to the fragment of porch before the
front door.
"Good mornin', Mam," was the greeting of a Negro man who hastened to
answer the visitor's knock at the door. "Yes Mam, Miss Minnie's at
home." He turned, tapped on the door of one of the four rooms adjoining
the hall, and called: "Miss Minnie, a white lady wants to see you."
Minnie hobbled to the door and invited the visitor to her bedroom, where
a suite of handsome walnut furniture reflected the period when marble
tops were standard parts of dressers and washstands. A low chair, an old
table, and a rusty heater completed the furnishings of the room.
Age and ill health have not dealt kindly with Minnie, and her short-cut,
kinky hair is almost white, but her eyes and face retain a remarkably
youthful appearance. She is a small thin woman of gingercake color and,
despite the sweltering heat, she wore a pink flannel nightgown, faded
and dingy, and a pair of high top black shoes, so badly run over that
she hobbled along on the sides of them. Minnie is well educated, and she
taught school for so long that her speech is remarkably free of dialect.
When the nature of the visit was explained, Minnie said: "A white woman
has been here several times before, but I was sick and didn't understand
clearly what she wanted me to tell her." She then explained that she did
not care to talk for publication at all. She said she was hungry and had
nothing at all in the house to eat. Her nephew, Ed, an ex-postman lived
with her, she explained, and he would go for food if there was any
money. She might feel like talking a little if she had a little
something to eat. The interviewer provided the cash and Ed soon returned
with a pint of milk and some cinnamon rolls. After her repast, Minnie
began to talk, giving the impression that every word was carefully
weighed before it was uttered.
"I was born in Greene County near Penfield, Georgia," she said. "Aggie
Crawford was my mother and she was married to Jim Young. My only sister
was Mariah, and my three brothers were Ned, John, and Jim. Ned was a
mulatto. I know who his father was, but of course you won't ask me that.
I wouldn't want to expose my own mother or the man who was Ned's father.
I was quite a small child during the war period, and I can tell you very
little of that time, except the things my mother told me when I grew old
enough to remember. My mother belonged to the Crawford family in Greene
County, but when I knew anything we were living in Athens and were the
slaves of Marster John Crawford.
"As children we played around the yard; those of us who were old enough
had odd jobs to do. The unceiled house that my father and mother shared
with three other families was weatherboarded and had a chimney made of
sticks and dirt. There was a bed in each corner of the room and from one
to three children slept in the bed with their parents: the rest of the
children slept on the floor. The tall old home-made wooden beds had very
much the appearance of beds used now, except that cords were used
instead of the metal springs that came into use later. Our osnaburg
mattress ticks were filled with straw. I'm quite sure there were no
pillows. There was also a two-story house on the lot for slaves." She
was asked what she called her father and mother during slavery time, and
her reply was: "I have always said father and mother because I liked it
better, and the Bible teaches us to say that.
"Grandmother Dilsey and grandfather Levi Crawford lived in Lexington. I
saw my grandmother one time, but I don't know what she did at the white
folks' house. Grandfather was a carpenter.
"I never got any money in slavery time. If the slaves ever got any, it
was when the Yankees came through here. At that time the white people
gave their money to the slaves for safekeeping, and after the Yankees
went on it was returned to the white owners.
"My mother was the cook and looked after the house. Oh, yes indeed, we
had good food to eat. Bread, milk, meat, collard greens, turnips, and
potatoes. I would say we had just everything that was grown in the
garden and on the plantations to eat at that time. The cooking was done
in the kitchen in the yard. The fireplace was as wide as the end of this
room, and a long iron bar extended from one end to the other. The great
cooking pots were suspended over the coals from this bar by means of pot
hooks. Heavy iron skillets with thick lids were much used for baking,
and they had ovens of various sizes. I have seen my mother bake
beautiful biscuits and cakes in those old skillets, and they were ideal
for roasting meats. Mother's batter cakes would just melt in your mouth
and she could bake and fry the most delicious fish. There was no certain
thing that I liked to eat more than anything else in those days. I was
young and had a keen appetite for all good things. Miss Fannie and Miss
Susan often made candy and it was so good I could have eaten all they
made, had they given it to me. My father hired his time out; he made and
sold gingercakes on the railroad.
"In the summertime we wore homespun dresses made with a full skirt
gathered onto a tight-fitting waist. In the wintertime the dresses were
made of checked woolen material called linsey cloth. For underwear, we
wore balmoral petticoats and osnaburg drawers. We went barefooted most
of the time. I remember one particular time when the ground was frozen
and I went about without any shoes, but it didn't bother me. Barefooted
children seldom had bad colds in winter. We wore just anything on
Sunday, but we had to look nice and clean.
"Marster John Crawford, son of the distinguished William H. Crawford,
was my owner. Indeed, he was good to us. I'll tell you after awhile
about the time he wouldn't let the town marshal whip my mother. They
told me his wife was a fine woman and that she was as good to her slaves
as she could be. She died very young in life and Marse John's sisters,
Miss Fannie and Miss Susan, kept house for him after that. Marse John's
three children were Miss Fannie, Miss Rosa, and Marse Allie. Miss Rosa
married Marse Tom Golden, and Miss Fannie married a Gerdine; I've
forgotten his first name.
"Marse John may have had an overseer on one of his plantations, but I
don't remember. I do know he didn't have a carriage driver for he didn't
have a carriage. I don't believe I can describe the peculiar shape of
his fine eight-room house. It was on Dougherty Street, right back of
Scudder's School. The Crawfords were considered very uppity people and
their slaves were uppish too. Marse John didn't have many slaves and
they had to get up and get going early every morning. Marse John was
postmaster of Athens and had to be in his office by eight o'clock every
morning so he ordered that his breakfast be served regularly at
seven-thirty.
"No Mam, our white folks didn't teach their slaves to read and write
because it was against the law. However, they did read the Bible to us,
and the slaves that were smart enough, were asked to repeat the verses
they had learned from hearing Miss Fannie, Miss Sue, and Marse John
read. The Crawford children were caught teaching my mother to read and
write, but they were made to stop. Mother was quick to learn and she
never gave up. She would steal the newspapers and read up about the war,
and she kept the other slaves posted as to how the war was progressing.
She knew when the war was over, almost as soon as Marse John did.
"I don't recall any certain reason why the slaves were punished; they
needed it, I'm sure of that. Some folks need to be punished now. Miss
Sue, as we called her, whipped the slaves for misbehavior. I remember
one time there was quite a commotion. The town marshal came to our house
to whip my mother. It had been told that she had been writing letters,
asking people to buy whiskey from her, but Marse John wouldn't let the
marshal touch her. There was a jail, but I don't recall that any of
Marse John's slaves were ever put in there. I was told that his slaves
were, as a rule, well behaved and that they gave him no trouble.
"Yes Mam, we went to church, that is, those of us who cared to go did.
There wasn't any separate church for colored people in Athens, that I
can remember. We went to church and Sunday School at the First
Presbyterian Church, where the slaves were allowed to sit in the
gallery. I recall that Dr. Hoyt used to pray that the Lord would drive
the Yankees back. He said that 'Niggers were born to be slaves.' My
mother said that all the time he was praying out loud like that, she was
praying to herself: 'Oh, Lord, please send the Yankees on and let them
set us free.' I wasn't enough of a singer to have a favorite song, and I
was too happy playing with the Crawford children to be interested in
going to baptizings and funerals.
"I did go to my father's funeral. When he was taken sick Dr. Holt
attended his case, and it was not long before he told Marse John that
Father would never get well. When he died Mother hollered and screamed
something terrible. Miss Sue told her not to cry because, 'the Lord
knows best.' 'Yes, Miss Sue,' answered Mother, 'but you have never loved
a man to lose.' With that, they both cried. When anyone died in those
days, the people sat up all night and didn't go to bed until the funeral
was over. Now, no real sympathy is shown.
"I don't believe any of Marse John's slaves ever went to the war. He was
good to them and everyone of them loved him. I heard of patterollers
chasing slaves and whipping them if they were caught away from home
without a pass, and sometimes they locked them up. However, nothing of
the kind ever happened to any of Marse John's slaves. He was a highly
respected citizen and everyone in Athens knew better than to touch his
Negroes.
"After the work for the day was finished at the big house, the slaves
went to their quarters to weave cloth and sew, but when ten o'clock came
and the bell sounded, everything had to be quiet. Slaves on our place
worked Saturday afternoons the same as any other day. On Saturday nights
the young folks and a few of the older folks danced. Some of them got
passes from Marse John so they could visit around. They popped corn,
pulled candy, or just sat around and talked. Those of us who desired
went to Sunday School and church on Sundays; others stayed at home and
did their washing and ironing, and there was always plenty of that to be
done.
"Christmas was a grand time at Marse John's. We had everything good to
eat under the sun at that time and, as my mother was the cook, I was
sure of getting my share of the good things. Miss Fannie and Miss Sue
played Santa Claus to slave children. I was sorry when Mary got too
smart and peeped to see what it was all about, for after that they just
came to our house and handed us the things that would have come as Santa
Claus.
"New Year's Day was no different from other days, except that Marse John
gave the grown folks whiskey to drink that day like he did on Christmas
morning. They couldn't risk giving slaves much whiskey because it made
them mean, and then they would fight the white folks. They had to be
mighty careful about things like that in order to keep down uprisings.
"My mother went to cornshuckings, cotton pickings, and quiltings. They
must have had wonderful times, to hear her tell it. She said that after
the corn was shucked, cotton picked, or quilts quilted, they always gave
them plenty of good things to eat and drink and let them aloose to enjoy
themselves for the balance of the night. Those things took place at
harvest time, and everyone looked forward to having a good time at that
season. Mother said that Marse John was particular with his slaves, and
wouldn't let them go just anywhere to these things.
"About the only game I can remember playing as a child was a doll game.
The Crawford children would use me for the doll, and then when my turn
came to play mamma and claim one of them for my doll, Miss Fanny or Miss
Sue would appear and then I would have to be a doll for them. I didn't
mind, for I dearly loved them all.
"Now about Raw Head and Bloody Bones; I am going to tell you, Miss, my
Marster's people were cultured and refined, and they wouldn't allow such
things told to their own children or to their slaves' children. They
didn't want anything said or done to frighten any little children, and
if a nurse or anyone else was caught doing such a thing, that person was
punished for it. With the heritage of training like that I could hardly
be expected to believe in such things.
"Marse John was grand to sick slaves. He always sent for Dr. Moore, who
would make his examination and write out his prescription. When he left
his parting word was usually 'Give him a sound thrashing and he will get
better.' Of course he didn't mean that; it was his little joke. Dr.
Holt, Dr. Crawford Long, and Dr. Jones Long were sometimes called in for
consultation on particularly serious cases. We didn't like Dr. Moore and
usually begged for one of the other doctors. I don't think my white
folks used teas made of herbs, leaves or roots; they may have, but I
don't remember it. However, I do know that we wore little sacks of
asafetida around our necks to keep off diseases, and the white folks
wore it too.
"On the day we learned of the surrender, the Negroes rallied around the
liberty flag pole that they set up near where the city hall is now. All
day long they cut up and there was a song they sung that day that went
something like this:
'We rally around the flag pole of liberty,
The Union forever, Hurrah! Boys Hurrah!'
"Next morning when the Negroes got up the white folks had cut that pole
down. We were mortally afraid of the Yankees when they appeared here a
short time after the surrender. We were afraid of the Ku Klux Klan
riders too. The Negroes did act so bad; there were lots of killings
going on for a long time after the war was supposed to be over.
"Mother was glad and sorry too that she was free. Marse John had been so
good to all his slaves that none of them really wanted to leave him. We
stayed on a while, then mother left and rented a room. She worked hard
and bought a house as soon as she could; others did the same. There were
very few slaves that had any money at all to begin on.
"Immediately following the surrender northern people opened Knox
Institute. One of my teachers was Miss Dora Brooks, a white woman from
the North. The principal was a white man, he was Mr. Sortur. After I
graduated from Knox Institute, I went to the Atlanta University four
years, then came back to Athens and taught school here forty years. I
taught whatever grade they assigned me to each year, never any certain
grade from year to year. First and last, I've taught from first grade
through high school. I would be teaching now if it were not for my bad
health. I receive a teacher's pension, but have never applied for an old
age pension.
"My husband was Samuel B. Davis, publisher of the Athens Clipper. I
published this newspaper myself for a short while after his death, then
sold it. We didn't have a big wedding, just a very simple one at my
mother's house. I was married in a nice white dress, but it was nothing
fancy. Our two children were born dead. Once I had a nice home,
beautifully furnished. All I have left of it is this old house and my
good bedroom suite. The rest of my possessions have gotten away from me
during my continued illness.
"I often think of Abraham Lincoln; he did a good deed for my race. Jeff
Davis was a good man and, no doubt, he thought he was doing the right
thing. Booker T. Washington was a man of brilliant mind, but he was
radically wrong in many of his views pertaining to education of the
black race. He lectured here once, but I didn't bother to hear him
speak.
"Yes Mam, indeed I had rather be free. Oh! religion is glorious. If God
has set you free from the bonds and penalties of sin, I think you ought
to live up to your Lord's commands. I dearly love to go to church and
hear the preacher tell of God. It gives me strength to live until He is
ready for me to go.
"Now, Miss, I hope I have told you what you wanted to know, but I must
admit the things that took place way back there are rather vague in my
mind. I'm an old woman and my mind is not as clear as it once was. Next
week, if I am strong enough to make the trip, I am going to spend the
day with Mary Colbert, and go over the old times you and I have
discussed. She remembers them better than I do, because she is older."
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Ike Derricotte
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Martha Colquitt
