WILLIS BENNEFIELD, HEPHZIBAH, GA., Born 1835.

[TR: "Uncle Willis" in individual interviews.]

"Uncle Willis" lives with his daughter Rena Berrian, who is 74 years old. "I his baby," said Rena, "all dead but me, and I ain't no good for him now 'cause I can't tote nothin'."

When asked where Uncle Willis was, Rena looked out over the blazing cotton field and called:

"Pap! Oh—pappy! Stop pickin' cotton and come in awhile. Dey's some ladies wants to see you."

Uncle Willis hobbled slowly to the cabin, set in the middle of the cotton patch. He wore clean blue overalls, obviously new. His small, regular features had high cheekbones. There was a tuft of curly white hair on his chin, and his head was covered with a "sundown" hat.

"Mawnin," he said, "I bin sick. So I thought I might git some cotton terday."

Willis thinks he is 101 years old. He said, "I was 35 years old when freedom delcared." He belonged to Dr. Balding Miller, who lived on Rock Creek plantation. Dr. Miller had three or four plantations, Willis said at first, but later stated that the good doctor had five or six places, all in Burke County.

"I wuk in de fiel'," he went on, "and I drove de doctor thirty years. He owned 300 slaves. I never went to school a day in my life, 'cept Sunday school, but I tuk de doctor's sons fo' miles ev'y day to school. Guess he had so much business in hand he thought the chillun could walk. I used to sit down on de school steps 'till dey turn out. I got way up in de alphabet by listenin', but when I went to courtin' I forgot all dat."

Asked what his regular duties were, Willis answered with pride:

"Marster had a cay'age and a buggy too. My father driv' de cay'age and I driv de doctor. Sometimes I was fixing to go to bed, and had to hitch up my horse and go five or six miles. I had a regular saddle horse, two pairs for cay'age. Doctor were a rich man. Richest man in Burke County. He made his money on his farm. When summertime come, I went wid him to Bath, wheh he had a house on Tena Hill. We driv' down in de cay'age. Sundays we went to church when Dr. Goulding preach. De darkies went in de side do'. I hear him preach many times."

Asked about living conditions on Rock Creek plantation, Willis replied:

"De big house was set in ahalf acre yard. 'Bout fifty yards on one side was my house, and fifty yards on de udder side was de house of granny, a woman that tended de chillun and had charge of de yard when we went to Bath," Willis gestured behind him, "and back yonder was de quarters, a half mile long; dey wuz one room 'crost, and some had shed room. When any of 'em got sick, Marster would go round to see 'em all."

Asked about church and Bible study, Willis said:

"I belongst to Hopeful Church. Church people would have singin' and prayin', and de wicked would have dancin' and singin'. At dat time I was a regular dancer" Willis chuckled. "I cut de pigeon wing high enough! Not many cullud people know de Bible in slavery time. We had dances, and prayers and sing too," he went on, "and we sang a song, 'On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, and cast a wishful eye.'"

"How about marriages?" he was asked.

"Colored preacher marry 'em. You had to get license and give it to the preacher, and he marry 'em. Then de men on our plantation had wives on udder plantations, dey call 'em broad wives."

"Did you give your wife presents when you were courting?" he was asked.

"I went to courtin' and never give her nuthin' till I marry her."

As to punishment, Willis said that slaves were whipped as they needed it, and as a general rule the overseer did the whipping.

"When darky wouldn't take whippin' from de overseer," he said, he had to cay'y dem to de boss; and if we needed any brushin' de marster brush 'em. Why, de darkies would whip de overseer!"

Willis was asked to describe how slaves earned money for personal use, and replied:

"Dey made dey own money. In slavery time, if you wanted four or five acres of land to plant anything on, marster give it to you, and whatever dat land make, it belong to you. You could take dat money and spend it any you wanted to. Still he give you somethin' to eat and clothe you, but dat patch you mek cotton on, sometimes a whole bale, dat money yours."

Willis thought the plantation house was still there, "but it badly wounded," he said. "Dey tell me dere ain't nobody living in it now. It seven miles from Waynesboro, south."

"When de soldiers come thoo'," continued Willis, "dey didn't burn dat place, but dey went in dere and took out ev'thing dey want, and give it to de cullud people. Dey kep' it till dey got free. De soldiers tuk Dr. Millers horses and carry 'em off. Got in de crib and tuk de corn. Got in de smoke'ouse and tuk de meat out. Old Marssa bury his money and silver in a iron chist. Dey tuk it 300 yards away to a clump of trees and bury it. It tuk fo' men to ca'y it. Dere was money without mention in dat chist! After de soldiers pass thoo, de went down and got it back."

"What did you do after freedom was declared?"

Willis straightened up.

"I went down to Augusta to de Freedmen's Bureau to see if twas true we wuz free. I reckon dere was, over a hundred people dere. The man got up and stated to de people, "you is jus' as free as I am. You ain't got no mistis and no marster. Work wheh you want." On Sunday morning old Marster sent de house girl and tell us to all come to de house. He said:

"What I want to send for you all, is to tell you you are free. You hab de privilege to go anywhere you want, but I don't want none of you to leave me now. I wants you-all to stay right wid me. If you stay, you you mus' sign to it' I asked him: "What you want me to sign for?, I is free." 'Dat will hold me to my word, and hold you to yo' word,' he say. All my folks sign it, but I wouldn't sign. Marster call me up and say: 'Willis, why wouldn't you sign?' I say: 'If I already is free, I don't need to sign no paper. If I was working for you, and doing for you befo' I got free, I can do it still, if you want me to stay wid yo'.' My father and mother tried to git me to sign, but I wouldn't sign. My mother said: 'You oughter sign. How you know Marster gwine pay?' I said: 'Den I kin go somewhere else.' Marster pay first class hands $15.00 a month, other hands $10.00, and den on down to five and six dollars. He give rations like dey always. When Christmas come, all come up to be paid off. Den he call me. Ask whar is me? I wus standin' roun' de corner of de house. 'Come up here,' he say, 'you didn't sign dat paper, but I reckon I have to pay you too.' He paid me and my wife $180.000. I said: 'Well, you-all thought he wouldn't pay me, but I got my money too.' I stayed to my marster's place one year after de war den I lef'dere. Nex' year I decided I wuld quit dere and go somewhere else. It was on account of my wife. You see, Marster bought her off, as de highes', and she hadn't seen her mother and father in Waynesboro for 15 years.

When she got free, she went down to see 'em. Waren't willin' to come back. T'was on account Mistis and her. Dey bofe had chilluns, five-six years old. De chillun had disagreement. Mistis slap my girl. My wife sass de Mistis. But my marster, he was as good a man as ever born. I wouldn't have lef' him for anybody, just on account of his wife and her fell out."

"What did your marster say when you told him you were going to leave? Was he sorry?"

"I quit and goes over three miles to another widow lady house, and mek bargain wid her," said Willis. "I pass right by de do'. Old boss sitting on de pi-za. He say: 'Hey, boy, wheh you gwine?' I say; 'I 'cided to go.' I was de fo'man of de plow-han' den. I saw to all de locking up, and things like dat. He say: 'Hold on dere.' He come out to de gate. 'I tell you what I give you to stay on here, I give you five acre of as good land as I got, and $30.00 a month, to stay here and see to my bizness.'"

Willis paused a moment, thinking back on that long distant parting.

"I say," he went on, "I can't, Marster. It don't suit my wife 'round here, and she won't come back, and I can't stay.' He turn on me den, and busted out crying. 'I didn't tho't I could raise up a darky that would talk thataway,' he said to me. Well, I went on off. I got de wagon and come by de house. Marster says: 'Now you gwone off, but don't forget me, boy. Remember me as you always done.' I said: 'All right.'"

Willis chewed his tobacco reflectively for a few minutes, spat into the rosemary bush, and resumed his story:

"I went over to dat widow lady's house and work. Along about May I got sick. She say: 'I going to send for de doctor.' I said: 'Please ma'am, don't do dat.' I thought maybe he kill me 'cause I lef' him. She say: 'Well, I gwine send fo' him.' I in desprut condition. When I know anything, he walk up in de do'. I was laying wid my face toward de do' and I turn over.

"Doctor come up to de bed. 'Boy, how you getting on?' 'I bad off,' I say. He say: 'I see you is. 'yeh.' Lady say: 'Doctor, what you think of him?' 'Mistis, it mos' too late,' he say, 'but I do all I kin.' She say: 'Please do all yo' kin, he 'bout de bes' han' I got.'

"Doctor fix up med'cine and tole her to give it to me. She say: 'Uncle Will, tek dis med'cine.' I 'fraid to tek it, 'fraid he wuz tryin' to kill me. Den two men, John and Charles, come in. Lady say: 'Get dis med'cine in Uncle Will.' One of de men hold my hand, one hold my head, and dey gagged me and put it in me. Nex few days I kin talk, and ax for somethin' to eat, so I git better. I say: 'Well, he didn't kill me when I tuk de Med'cine.'

"I stayed dere wid her. Nex' yar I move right back in two miles other side wheh I always live, wid anudder lady. I stay dere three years. Got along all right. When I lef' from there, I lef' dere wid $300.00 and plenty corn and hog. Everything I want, and three hundred dollars cash in my pocket!"

(It was plain that in his present status of relief ward, Uncle Willis looked back on that sum of money as a small fortune. He thought about it awhile, spat again, and went on:)

"Fourth year I lef' and went down to de John Fryer place on Rock Creek. I stayed dere 33 years in dat one place."

"Uncle Willis, did you ever see the doctor again?"

"He die 'fore I know it," he replied, "I was 'bout fifteen miles from him and be de time I hear of his death, he bury on plantation near Rock Creek."

Willis was asked about superstitions, and answered with great seriousness:

"Eberybody in de worl' have got a spirit what follow 'em roun' and dey kin see diffrunt things. In my sleep I hab vision."

"Pappy, tell de ladies 'bout de hant," urged Aunt Rena from her post in the doorway, and Willis took up the story with eagerness:

"One night I was gwine to a lady's store, riding a horse. De graveyard was 100 yards from de road I wuz passing. De moon was shining bright as day. I saw somethin' coming out of dat graveyard. It come across de road, right befo' me. His tail were dragging on de ground, a long tail. He had hair on both sides of him, laying down on de road. He crep' up. I pull de horse dis way, he move too. I pull him dat way, he move too. I yell out: 'What in de name o' God is dat?' And it turn right straight 'round de graveyard and went back. I went on to de lady's store, and done my shoppin'. I tell you I was skeered, 'cause I was sho' I would see it going back, but I never saw it. De horse was turrible skeered of it. It looked like a Maryno sheep, and it had a long, swishy tail."

Uncle Willis was asked if he had ever seen a person "conjured" and he answered:

"Dey is people in de worl' got sense to kill out de conjur in anybody, but nobuddy ever conjur me. I year 'um say if a person conjur you, you'll git somethin' in you dat would kill you."

Asked to what he attributed his long, healthy life, he raised his head with a preaching look and replied:

"I tell you, Missis, 'zactly what I believe. I bin tryin' to serve God ever since I come to be a man of family. I bin trying to serve de Lawd 79 years, and I live by precepts of de word. Until today nobuddy can turn me away from God business. I am a man studying my gospel. I ain't able to go to church, but I still keep serving God."

A week later Uncle Willis was found standing in the cabin door.

"Do you want to ride to the old plantation to-day?" he was asked. His vitality was almost too low form to grasp the invitation.

"I'se might weak today," he said in a feeble voice. "I don't feel good for much."

"Where is Aunt Rena?" he was asked. "Do you think she would mind your taking an automobile trip?"

"She gone to town on de bus, to see de Fambly Welfare."

"Have you had breakfast?" His weak appearance indicated lack of food.

"I had some coffee, but I ain't eat 'none."

"Well, come on, Uncle Willis. We'll get you some breakfast, and then we'll take you to the plantation and take your picture in the place where you were born 101 years ago."

Uncle Willis appeared to be somewhat in a daze as he padlocked the cabin door, put on his "sundown" hat, took up his stout stick and tottered down the steps. He wore a frayed sweater, with several layers of shirts showing at the cuffs. On the way he recalled the first railroad train that passed through Burke County.

"I kinder scared," he recollected, "we wuz all 'mazed to see dat train flyin' long 'thout any horses. De people wuz all afraid."

"Had you hear of airplanes before you saw one, Uncle Willis?"

"Yes, ma'am. I yeared o' them, but you couldn't gimme dis car full of money to fly, they's too high off de ground. I never is gwine in one."

Uncle Willis was deposited on the porch of one of the remaining slave cabins to eat his "brekkus," while his kidnappers sought over hill and field for "the big house," but only two cabins and the chimney foundation of a large burned dwelling rewarded the search.

He was posed in front of the cabin, just in front of the clay and brick end chimney, and took great pleasure in the ceremony, rearing his head up straight so that his white beard stuck out.

The brutal reality of finding the glories of Rock Creek plantation forever vanished must have been a severe blow for the old man, for several times on the way back he wiped tears from his eyes. Once again at his cabin in the cotton field, his vitality reasserted itself, and he greeted his curious dusky neighbors with the proud statement:

"Dey tuk me wheh I was bred and born. I don't ax no better time."

His farewell words were:

"Goo'bye. I hopes you all gits to Paradise."

FOLKLORE
Interviews obtained from:
MRS. EMMALINE HEARD, 239 Cain St. NE
MRS. ROSA MILLEGAN, 231 Chestnut Ave. NE
MR. JASPER MILLEGAN, 231 Chestnut Ave. NE
Atlanta, Ga.
[Date Stamp: MAY 12 1937]
[MRS. EMMALINE HEARD]

Mrs. Emmaline Heard, who resides at 239 Cain St. NE has proved to be a regular storehouse for conjure and ghost stories. Not only this but she is a firm believer in the practice of conjure. To back up her belief in conjure is her appearance. She is a dark brown-skinned woman of medium height and always wears a dirty towel on her head. The towel which was at one time white gives her the weird look of an old-time fortune teller.

Tuesday, December 8, 1936 a visit was made to her home and the following information was secured:

"There wuz onct a house in McDonough and it wuz owned by the Smiths that wuz slave owners way back yonder. Now, this is the trufe cause it wuz told ter me by old Uncle Joe Turner and he 'spirience it. Nobody could live in this house I don't care how they tried. Dey say this house wuz hanted and anybody that tried to stay there wuz pulled out of bed by a hant. Well, sir, they offered the house and $1,000 to anyone who could stay there over night. Uncle Joe said he decided to try it so sho nuff he got ready one night and went ter this house to stay. After while, says he, something come in the room and started over ter the bed, but fore it got there, he said, "What in the name of the Lord you want with me." It said, 'follow me. There is a pot of gold buried near the chimney; go find it and you won't be worried with me no more.' Der next morning Uncle Joe went out there and begin ter dig and sho nuff he found the gold; and sides that he got the house. Dis here is the trufe. Uncle Joe's house is right there in McDonough now and anybody round there will tell you the same thing cause he wuz well-known. Uncle Joe is dead now.

"Anudder story that happened during slavery time and wuz told ter me by father wuz this; The master had a old man on his plantation named Jimson. Well, Jimson's wife wuz sick and had been fer nearly a year. One day there she wanted some peas, black eyed peas; but old man Harper didn't have none on his plantation, so Jimson planned ter steal off that night and go ter old Marse Daniel's farm, which wuz 4 miles from Marse Harper's farm, and steal a few peas for his wife. Well, between midnight and day he got a sack and started off down the road. Long after while a owl started hootin, sho-o-o are-e-e, who-o-o-o-, and it wounded jest lak someone saying 'who are you.' Jimson got scared, pulled off his cap and run all the way to old man Daniel's farm. As he run he wuz saying, "Sir, dis is me, old Jimson" over and over again. Now, when he got near the farm Old Daniel heard him and got up in the loft ter watch him. Finally old Jimson got dar and started creeping up in the loft. When he got up dar, chile, Marse Daniel grabbed his whip and 'most beat Jimson ter death.

"This here story happened in Mississippi years ago, but den folks that tell it ter me said it wuz the trufe. 'There wuz a woman that wuz sick; her name wuz Mary Jones. Well, she lingered and lingered till she finally died. In them days folks all around would come ter the settin-up if somebody wuz dead. They done sent some men after the casket. Since they had ter go 30 miles they wuz a good while getting back, so the folkses decided ter sing. After while they heard the men come up on the porch and somebody got up ter let 'em in. Chile, jest as they opened the door that 'oman set straight up on that bed; and sech another runnin and getting out of that house you never heard; but some folks realized she wuzn't dead so they got the casket out der way so she wouldn't see it, cause they wuz fraid she would pass out sho nuff; jest the same they wuz fraid of her, too. The man went off and come back with postols, guns, sticks, and everything; and when this 'oman saw 'em she said, 'don't run, I won't bother you.' but, chile, they left there in a big hurry, too. Well, this here Mary went to her sister's house and knocked on the door, and said: 'Let me in. This is Mary. I want to talk to you and tell you where I've been.' The sister's husband opened the door and let her in. This 'oman told 'em that God had brought her to and that she had been in a trance with the Lord. After that every one wuz always afraid of that 'oman and they wouldn't even sit next ter her in the church. They say she is still living.

"This happened right yonder in McDonough years ago. A gal went to a party with her sweet'art and her ma told her not ter go. Well, she went on anyhow in a buggy; when they got ter the railroad crossing a train hit the buggy and killed the gal, but the boy didn't git hurted at all. Well, while they wuz sittin up with this dead gal, the boy comes long there in his buggy with anudder gal, and do you know that horse stopped right in front uv that house and wouldn't budge one inch. No matter how hard he whip that horse it wouldn't move; instid he rared and kicked and jumped about and almost turned the buggy over. The gal in the buggy fainted. Finally a old slavery time man come along and told him to git a quart of whiskey and pour it around the buggy and the hant would go away. So they done that and the sperit let 'em pass. If a hant laked whisky in they lifetime, and you pour it round where they's at, they will go away."

The following are true conjure stories supposedly witnessed by Mrs. Heard: "There wuz a Rev. Dennis that lived below the Federal Prison. Now, he wuz the preacher of the Hardshell Baptist Church in this community. This man stayed sick about a year and kept gittin different doctors and none uv them did him any good. Well, his wife kept on at him till he decided ter go ter see Dr. Geech. His complaint wuz that he felt something run up his legs ter his thighs. Old Dr. Geech told him that he had snakes in his body and they wuz put there by the lady he had been going wid. Dr. Geech give him some medicine ter take and told him that on the 7th day from then that 'oman would come and take the medicine off the shelf and throw it away. Course Rev. Dennis didn't believe a thing he said, so sho nuff she come jest lak Dr. Geech said and took the medicine away. Dr. Geech told him that he would die when the snakes got up in his arm, but if he would do lak he told him he would get all right. Dis 'oman had put this stuff in some whiskey and he drunk it so the snakes breed in his body. After he quit taking the medicine he got bad off and had ter stay in the bed; sho nuff the morning he died you could see the snake in his arm; the print uv it wuz there when he died. The snake stretched out in his arm and died, too.

"I got a son named Jack Heard. Well, somebody fixed him. I wuz in Chicago when that happened and my daughter kept writing ter me ter come home cause Jack wuz acting funny and she thought maybe he wuz losing his mind. They wuz living in Thomasville then and every day he would go sit round the store and laugh and talk, but jest as soon as night would come and he would eat his supper them fits would come on him. He would squeal jest lak a pig and he would get down on his knees and bark jest lak a dog. Well, I come home and went ter see a old conjure doctor. He says ter me, 'that boy is hurt and when you go home you look in the corner of the mattress and you will find it. 'Sho nuff I went home and looked in the corner of the mattress and there the package wuz. It wuz a mixture of his hair and bluestone wrapped up in red flannel with new needles running all through it. When I went back he says ter me, 'Emmaline, have you got 8 dimes?' No, I said, but I got a dollar. 'Well, get that dollar changed into 10 dimes and take 8 of 'em and give 'em ter me. Then he took Jack in a room, took off his clothes and started ter rubbin him down with medicine; all at the same time he wuz saying a ceremony over him; then he took them 8 dimes, put 'em in a bag and tied them around Jack's chest somewhere so that they would hang over his heart. 'Now, wear them always,' says he ter Jack. Jack wore them dimes a long time but he finally drunk 'em up anyway, that doctor cured him cause he sho would a died."

The following aroma [HW: is a] few facts as related by Mrs. Heard concerning an old conjure doctor known as Aunt Barkas [TR: Darkas throughout rest of story].

"Aunt Darkas lived in McDonough, Ga. until a few years ago. She died when she wuz 128 years old; but, chile, lemme tell you that 'oman knowed just what ter do fer you. She wuz blind but she could go ter the woods and pick out any kind of root or herb she wanted. She always said the Lord told her what roots to get and always fore sun-up you would see her in the woods with a short handled pick. She said she had ter pick 'em for sun-up; I don't know why. If you wuz sick all you had ter do wuz go ter see Aunt Darkas and tell her. She had a well and after listening to your complaint she would go out there and draw a bucket of water and set it on the floor, and then she would wave her hand over it and say something. She called this healing the water. After this she would give you a drink of water. As she hand it ter you, she would say, 'now drink, take this and drink.' Honey, I had some of that water myself and blieve me it goes all over you and makes you feel so good. Old Aunt Darkas would give you a supply of water and tell you ter come back fer more when that wuz gone. Old Aunt Darkas said the Lord gave her power and vision, and she used to fast for a week at a time. When she died there wuz a piece in the paper bout her.

"This here is sho the trufe, and if you don't believe it, go out ter Southview Cemetery and see Sid Heard, my oldest son; he been out there over 20 years as sexton and bookkeeper. Yessir, he tole it ter me and I believe it. This happen long ago, 10 or 15 years. There wuz a couple that lived in Macon, Ga., but their home wuz in Atlanta and they had a lot out ter Southview. Well, they had a young baby that tuck sick and died so they had the baby's funeral there in Macon; then they put the coffin in the box, placed the label on the box, then brought it ter Atlanta. Folkes are always buried so that they head faces the east. They say when Judgment Day come and Gabriel blow that trumpet everybody will rise up facing the east. Well, as I wuz saying, they came here. Sid Heard met 'em out yonder and instructed his men fer arrangements fer the grave and everything. A few weeks later the 'oman called Sid Heard up long distance. She said, 'Mr. Heard.' Yesmam, he said. 'I call you ter tell you me and my husband can't rest at all.' 'Why?' he asked. 'Because we can hear our baby crying every night and it is worrying us ter death. Our neighbors next door say our baby must be buried wrong.' Sid Heard said, Well, I buried the baby according ter the way you got the box labeled. 'I am not blaming you, Mr. Heard, but if I pay you will you take my baby up?' Yesmam, I will if you want me to; jest let me know the day you will be here and I'll have everything ready. Alright, said she.

'Well,' said Sid Heard, 'the day she wuz ter come she wuz sick and instead sent a car load of her friends. The men got busy and started digging till they got ter the box; when they took it up sho nuff after they opened it, they found the baby had been buried wrong; the head was facing the west instead of the east. They turned the box around and covered it up. The folks then went on back to Macon. A week later the 'omen called up again. 'Mr. Heard,' she says. Yesmam, says he. 'Well, I haven't heard my baby cry at all in the past week. I wuzn't there but I know the exact date you took my baby up, cause I never heard it cry no more.'