Nelson Cameron
From:
South Carolina
Project #1655
W. W. Dixon,
Winnsboro, S. C.
NELSON CAMERON
EX-SLAVE 81 YEARS.
Nelson Cameron and his wife, Mary, together with a widowed daughter,
Rose, and her six children, live in a four-room frame house, two miles
south of Woodward, S. C., about sixty yards east of US highway #21. He
cultivates about eighty acres of land, on shares of the crop, for Mr.
Brice, the land owner. He is a good, respectable, cheerful old darkey,
and devoted to his wife and grandchildren.
"Marse Wood, Ned Walker, a old Gaillard nigger says as how he was down
here t'other day sellin' chickens, where he got them chickens I's not
here for to say, and say you wanna see me. I's here befo' you and pleads
guilty to de charge dat I'm old, can't work much any longer, and is poor
and needy.
"You sees dere's a window pane out of my britches seat and drainage
holes in both my shoes, to let de sweat out when I walks to Bethel
Church on Sunday. Whut can you and Mr. Roosevelt do for dis old
Izrallite a passin' thru de wilderness on de way to de Promise Land? Lak
to have a little manna and quail, befo' I gits to de river Jordan.
"My old marster name Sam Brice. His wife, my mistress, tho' fair as de
lily of de valley and cheeks as pink as de rose of Sharon, is called
'Darkie.' Dat always seem a misfit to me. Lily or Rose or Daisy would
have suited her much more better, wid her laces, frills, flounces, and
ribbons. Her mighty good to de slaves. Take deir part 'ginst de marster
sometime, when him want to whup them. Sometime I sit on de door-steps
and speculate in de moonlight whut de angels am like and everytime, my
mistress is de picture dat come into dis old gray head of mine. You say
you don't want po'try, you wants facts?
"Well, here de facts: My mammy name Clara. Don't forgit dat. I come back
to her directly. My young mistress was Miss Maggie. Her marry Marse
Robert Clowney; they call him 'Red-head Bob.' Him have jet red hair. Him
was 'lected and went to de Legislature once. No go back; he say dere too
much ding dong do-nuttin' foolishness down dere for him to leave home
and stay 'way from de wife and chillun half de winter months.
"Marse Sam never have so pow'ful many slaves. Seem lak dere was more
women and chillun than men. In them days, pa tell me, a white man raise
niggers just lak a man raise horses or cows. Have a whole lot of mares
and 'pendin' on other man to have de stallion. Fust thing you know dere
would be a whole lot of colts kickin' up deir heels on de place. Lakwise
a white man start out wid a few women folk slaves, soon him have a
plantation full of little niggers runnin' 'round in deir shirt-tails and
a kickin' up deir heels, whilst deir mammies was in de field a hoeing
and geeing at de plow handles, workin' lak a man. You ketch de point?
Well I's one of them little niggers. My pa name Vander. Him b'long to
one of de big bugs, old Marse Gregg Cameron. Marse Gregg, him 'low,
always have more money and niggers than you could shake a stick at, more
land than you could walk over in a day, and more cuss words than you
could find in de dictionary. His bark was worser than his bite, tho'. Pa
was de tan-yard man; he make leather and make de shoes for de
plantation. After freedom date, de way he make a livin' for mammy and us
chillun was by makin' boots and shoes and half solin' them for white
folks at Blackstock, S. C. Marse Sam Brice mighty glad for mammy to
contact sich a man to be de pappy of her chillun.
"Us live in a log house wid a little porch in front and de mornin' glory
vines use to climb 'bout it. When they bloom, de bees would come a
hummin' 'round and suck de honey out de blue bells on de vines. I
'members dat well 'nough, dat was a pleasant memory. Is I told you my
mammy name Clara? My brothers and sisters, who they? George dead, Calvin
dead, Hattie (name for pa's young mistress) dead, Samson, who got his
ear scald off in a pot of hot water, is dead, too. I's existing still. I
did mighty little work in slavery times. 'Members not much 'bout de
Yankees.
"Freedom come, pa come straight as a martin to his gourd, to mammy and
us pickaninnies. They send us to school at Blackstock and us walk
fourteen miles, and back, every day to school. At school I meets Mary
Stroud, a gal comin' from de Gaillard quarter. Her eyes was lak twin
stars. Her hair lak a swarm of bees. All my studyin' books was changed
to studyin' how to git dat swarm of bees in a hive by myself. One day I
walk home from school with her and git old Uncle Tom Walker to marry us,
for de forty cents I saved up. Us happy ever since. Nex' year I work for
Ben Calvin, a colored man on de Cockerell place, jinin' de Gaillard
place. Us did dat to be near her pappy, Uncle Morris Stroud.
"All thru them 'Carpet Bag' days my pappy stuck to de white folks, and
went 'long wid de Ku Kluxes. His young mistress, Miss Harriet Cameron,
marry de Grand Titan of all de Holy invisible Roman Empire. Him name was
Col. Leroy McAfee. Pappy tell me all 'bout it. Marse Col. McAfee come
down from North Ca'lina, and see Marse Feaster Cameron at old Marse
Gregg Cameron's home and want Marse Feaster to take charge down in dis
State. While on dat visit him fall in love wid Marse Feas's sister,
Harriet, and marry her. You say Marse Tom Dixon dedicate a book to her,
de Clansman? Well, well, well! To think of dat. Wish my pappy could a
knowed dat, de Sundays he'd take dat long walk to Concord Church to put
flowers on her grave. They all lie dere in dat graveyard, Old Marse
Gregg, Marse Leroy, Miss Harriet, and Marse Feas. De day they bury Marse
Feas de whole county was dere and both men and women sob when de red
earth rumbled on his coffin top. Pappy had me by de hand and cried lak a
baby, wid de rest of them, dat sad day.
"Does you 'member de time in 1884, when my pappy made you a pair of
boots for $10.00 and when you pay him, him knock off one dollar and you
pay him nine dollars? You does? Well dat is fine, for I sure need dat
dollar dis very day.
"Does I 'member de day old Marse Gregg die? 'Course I does. It happen
right here in Winnsboro. Him come down to 'tend John Robinson's Circus.
Him lak Scotch liquor; de tar smell, de taste, and de 'fect, take him
back to Scotland where him generate from. Them was bar-room days in
Winnsboro. De two hotels had bar-rooms, besides de other nine in town.
Marse Gregg had just finished his drink of Scotch. De parade of de
circus was passing de hotel where he was, and de steam piano come by a
tootin'. Marse Gregg jump up to go to de street to see it. When it pass,
him say: 'It's a damn humbug' and drop dead."
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