[Martha J. Jones:]

In an interview with Mrs. Martha J. Jones, she reminisced of the old Civil War days as follows:

"I was born in Buckingham County, Virginia, and later during the Civil War, I lived in Gilmer County, W. Va. My fathers name was Robert R. Turner; he was born in 1818 and my mother's name was Susan; she was born in 1821. My parents had six children and we lived on a big farm.

My father was in the legislature in W. Va. During the Civil War, I had three brother in the Southern Army. One of them died of fever, one was shot and killed in action, and the other William Wert Turner, came out of the army after the close of the war and became a lawyer. Later he went to New Castle, Kentucky, and became a prominent lawyer, where he remained until his death in 1932.

I married John R. Jones, a lieutenant in the Union Army, at Gilmer, W. Va., when I was about twenty years old, shortly after the war. We then moved to New Castle, Kentucky, Henry County. We had four children born to us, and I now have three living children; later on in years we moved to Louisville. During the days of the Civil War my father owned three slave, one was an old darkey named Alex, and the nigger mammies, were Diana and Mary Ann. My parents were always good to their slaves, and never traded or sold them. They were good workers and my father never kept many.

My Uncle, John C. Turner, had farms close to my father's in West Va., and he had fifty-two slaves when the war ended. He would buy, sell and trade them all the time. The slaves were judged by the Masters. If they were big and strong they would bring a good price, as they would be better workers for the fields, and then, I would watch my uncle swap and buy slaves, just the same as he was buying any other stock for his farm. I am getting [HW: old] now, and my memory is not so good no more, and it is hard to remember the things of so long ago. You see, I will be ninety years old, next Feb. 23rd. I was born in 1847."

FLOYD CO.
(John I. Sturgill)
Charlie Richmond:

We are unable to interview ex-slaves in Floyd County, so far as anyone we are able to contact knows, there are no living ex-slaves in the County. There are several colored people. The majority of them reside at Tram, Kentucky, Floyd County, in a kind of colored colony, having been placed there just after the Civil War. A small number of colored people live in the vicinity of Wayland, Kentucky, the original being the remains of a wealthy farmer of Civil War day, by name of Martin. The colored people were identified as "Martin's Niggers."

The last ex-slave of Floyd County, says Mr. W.S. Wallen of Prestonsburg, Kentucky, was "Uncle" Charlie Richmond, of Prestonsburg. Uncle Charlie was brought to the county by old Judge Richmond, father of I. Richmond of the Richmond Dept. Stores of Prestonsburg, about the time of the Civil War. When the war was over "Uncle" Charlie worked at Richmond's for hire and lived as a member of the family. While working on a Prestonsburg newspaper, Mr. Wallen interviewed this old ex-slave and worked him into a feature story for his paper. These old paper files were destroyed by fire about 1928.

Mr. Wallen remembers that "Uncle" Charlie Richmond, as the old ex-slave was called, died in 1910, was buried in Prestonsburg, and that he, W.S. Wallen, wrote up the old Darkey's death and funeral for his newspaper. This is the same paper who's files were destroyed by fire and which papers does not now exist.

Old Judge Richmond brought this old slave, from Virginia about 1862, along with a number of other slaves. "Uncle" Charlies was the only slave that remained in the family as a servant after the Emancipation Proclamation.

Mr. Wallen is a lawyer in Prestonsburg, Kentucky, a member of the James and Wallen Law Firm, located in the Lane Bldg., on Court St. He was born at Goodlow, Kentucky in Floyd County, March 15, 1866. He taught school in Floyd County thirteen years, took his L.L.B. at Law School in Valpariso, Ind., in 1910, and later served as representative to the Kentucky General Assembly from the 93rd District, the 1922-24 and 26 Sessions.

The List of People who owned Slaves in Floyd County include:

Sophia Lane, Lanesville.
Jim Lane, Lanesville
Gilbert Higgins, Wilson's Creek
George May, Maytown
Hi Morgan, Prestonsburg
Penny J. Sizemore, Prestonsburg
Samuel P. Davidson, Prestonsburg
I. Richmond, Prestonsburg
Valentine Mayo, Prestonsburg
---- Lanes, Prestonsburg
Kennie Hatcher, Lanesville
Morgan Clark, John's Creek
Daniel Hager, Hager Shoals near what is Auxier, Ky.
Adam Gayheart, Prestonsburg
John P. Martin, Prestonsburg
Jacob Mayo, Sr., Prestonsburg
Wm. Mayo, Jr., Prestonsburg
Johnny Martin, Wayland, Kentucky
Thomas Johns, Dwale, Ky.
Isom Slone, Beaver Creek
John Bud Harris, Emma, Kentucky
Billy Slone, Caney Fork, Right Beaver, Kentucky.

This list is as remembered by the oldest citizens, and one T.J. "Uncle" Jeff Sizemore, 94 years old Civil War Veteran and citizen of Prestonsburg, Kentucky, dictated then to the writer in just this order.

The nearest auction blocks were Mt. Sterling, Kentucky and Gladdville, Virginia. Most slaves from the present Floyd County Territory were bought and sold through auction in southwest Virginia. Other auction blocks were at Abington and Bristol, Virginia.

The negro dialect of this county is a combination of the dialect white folk use plus that of the negro of the South. The colored population is continually moving back and forth from Alabama, Georgia and North and South Carolinas. They visit a lot. Colored teachers so far have all been from Ohio. Most visiting colored preachers come from Alabama and the Carolinas. The negroes leave out their R's use an't han't gwin, su' for sir, yea for yes, dah for there and such expressions as, "I's Ye?"

The wealthiest families o' white folk still retain colored servants. In Prestonsburg, Kentucky one may see on the streets neat looking colored gals leading or wheeling young white children along. Folk say this is why so many southerners leave out their R's and hold on to the old superstitions, they've had a colored mama for a nurse-maid.

Adam Gearheart was a sportsman and used negro Jockeys. His best jockey, Dennis, was sold to Morg. Clark, John's Creek. The old race track took in part of the east end of the present Prestonsburg—from Gearheart's home East in Mayo's bottom one mile to Kelse Hollow—Jimmie Davidson now lives at the beginning of the old track, near Maple Street. Mike Tarter of Tennessee, Gearheart's son-in-law brought horses from Tennessee and ran them here. Tarter was a promoter and book-maker also. Penny J. Sizemore and Morg. Clark were other sportsmen. This was as early as 1840 up to the Civil War.

Slaves ware traded, bought and sold between owners just as domestic animals are today. Where one owned only a few servants with no families they lived in the big house—otherwise in Slave quarters, little cabins nearby.

Billy Slone just had two female servants, he bought them in Virginia 15 years old, for $1,000.00 sound.

Many folk went over to Mt. Sterling or Lexington to auctions for trading servants. (The same manner is used trading stock today).

Slave traders came into the county to buy up slaves for the Southern plantations, and cotton or sugar fields—Slave families were very frequently separated, some members mean, theiving, or running away niggers were sold (first) down the river. Sometimes good servants were sold for the price, the master being in a financial strait or dire need of money. Traders handcuffed their servants purchased, and took them by boat or horse-back down the river or over in Virginia and Carolina tobacco fields.

Good servants were usually well treated and not over-worked. Mean or contrary servants were whipped, or punished in other ways. Run-aways were hunted—dogs being used to track them at times.

OWENS CO.
(John Forsee)
George Dorsey:

Although this article is presented in narrative form and has but few characters, the writer believes it to be an excellent example of life in Owen County sixty or more years ago. With the exception of the grey eagle episode, similar events to these described were happening all over the county. There is no reason to doubt the authenticity of any part of the article. The narrator (George Dorsey, age 76 (negro) Owentown, Kentucky, born in slavery and raised by a white family) bears a good reputation and is intelligent enough to react favorably and intelligently to questions concerning the past. Further interviews concerning more general subjects are planned.

"I was born on the 16th day of June, 1860 on the ole poor house farm 'bout two miles from Owentown. My mother yousta tell me I'd be a sleepy head. I didn't know what she meant by that so finally one day, after I got to be a great big boy, I asked her what she meant.

"Well, she says, Chickens that is hatched in June jess stand 'round in the hot sun an' sleep themselves to death. So, as you was born in June, you'll jess be a sleepy head."

"My mother belonged to Sammy Duvall, the father o' little Sam Duvall who died not long ago. Little Sam usta be town marshall here and a guard at the pen over at Frankfort. I was born a slave an' stayed one till the niggers was freed.

"Bout the time the war was over I seen my first soldier. The road that passed along in front of our house was a dirt road. I'd gone with mother to watch her milk a young cow late one night, 'bout dark I guess, when I heard somebody hollerin' and yellin' an' I looked down the road an' seen 'em comin'. I was 'bout five years old then an' it looked to me like all the army was comin' up the road. The captain was on a hawse an' the men afoot an' the dust from the dirt road a flyin'. There was a moon shinin' an' you could see the muskets shinin' in the moonlight. I was settin' on a fence an' when I seen 'em it scared me so I started to run. When I jumped off I fell an' cut a hole in my for'head right over this left eye. The scar's there yet. I run in the house and hid. Mr. Sammy Duvall had to get on a hawse an' go to New Liberty an' fetch a doctor to plug up the hole in my head. I seen lots of soldiers after that an' I always run under the bed or hid in a closet or somewheres. They stayed 'round here for a long time. Finally provender got low and the soldiers took to stealing. We called it stealin', but I reckon it warn't for they come and got the stuff like meat out o' the smoke house in broad open daylight. Mr. Duvall had a chestnut earl stallion he called Drennon an' they come, or somebody did, an' got him one night. One day, ‘bout two or three weeks later, Will Duvall, a son o' Mr. Sammy Duvall, heard that the hawse was over in Henry County where the soldiers had a camp. So he went over there and found the Captain an' told him he'd come after old Drennon. The Captain said to describe him an' Will said, "Captain, he's a chestnut earl named Drennon. If'n I whistl' a certain way he' nicker an' answer me."

"Well, they went down to the stable where they had a lot of stalls like, under tents. An' when they got there, Will, he whistled, an' sure 'nough, old Drennon nickered. So the Captain, he said, That's your hawse all right. Go in an' get him an' take him on home.

Will brought the hawse home an' took him down in the woods on the creek where the water'd washed all the dirt offen a big, flat rock and we kep him hid for three or four weeks. We didn't want to loose him again.

When I was 'bout six years old we moved offen the creek to a new road up on the ridge. It was on the same farm but to another house. I had a great big, ole grey cat I called "Tom." I wanted to move him so I put him in a pillow slip so's he couldn't see where we wus takin' him so he couldn't fin' the way back. He stayed 'round his new home for a few days an' then he went back to his ole home. Mr. Duvall went and got him again for me. Not many white men would do that for a little nigger boy. He musta told Tom somethin' for he never run off no more.

Mr. Duvall usta ride a blazed-face, sarl [HW: sorrel] mare named Kit. He most al'ays taken me up behind him, 'specially if he was goin' to town. Kit was trained to hunt deer. I can't remember any deer in the country but Mr. Duvall yousta tell me 'bout 'em an 'bout the way they had their hawses trained. He said there wus a place down on Panther Lick Creek, below where we lived, that was a deer lick. The deer would come there and lick the ground close to the creek because there was salt left there by the high waters. He'd put a strap with a littel bell on 'round ole Kit's neck; an' tie her to a tree not far from this lick. Then he'd hide behin' 'nother tree close to Kit. When the deer come ole Kit'd shake her head an' the deer would raise their heads to see what the noise made by the bell was an' where it was comin' from. Then he'd shoot the deer in the head. He showed me the place where he killed the biggest buck he ever seen right here jess out o' town a little ways. He kept the horns. An' I remember seein' 'em in the attic at his house. He had an ole riffle he called "Ole Betsy" that'd been his deer rifle.

After I got to be a big boy, huntin' and fishin' was good. I never got to do any uv it except on Saturdays and Sundays. Everbody had a brush fence 'round the house to keep the stock in out o' the yard and one day I seen a big bird sail down on the fence and run under it. Mother was out in the back yard so I said to myself, I'll get the gun and kill that hawk. I taken good aim at its head and banged away. At the crack o' the gun I never heard such a flutterin' in my life. Mother come runnin' to see what was the matter and when she seen it, she said, Son, that's a pheasant. Some day you'll be a good hunter. An' guess I was for I killed lots o' pheasants, quail, squir'ls and rabbits.

Little Sammy Duvall had a pointer he called "Quail". She was the smartest dog I ever seen, but everybody had smart dogs them days. Quail'd trail birds when they was runnin' till she got clost and then circle 'round 'em an' make her stand.

Be careful there, Quail, Mr. Sammy would say. He'd nearly always get eight or ten out uv a covey an' sometimes the whole covey. I yousta go along jess to see him shoot. He hardly ever missed. There was so many quail that nobody ever thought to leave any uv a covey if he wanted that many an' they didn't get so scattered that he couldn't fin' em.

After the deer was all killed out, people trained their deer hounds to chase foxes, coons and such like. The white boys from town yousta come and get Will and young Sammy to go coon huntin'. They al'ays had ten or twelve dogs. They al'ays taken me along an' treated me jest the same as if I was as white as they was. If I got behind or out o' sight somebody was sure to say, 'Where's George'?

One night we treed three coons in a big hollow oak. They started to cut down the trees an' put me at the butt with a fire bran'. When the tree fell the coons'd come out an' I was supposed to drive 'em back with the fire, jest lettin' out one at a time so's the dogs could kill 'em. I was about half scared uv 'em and when one big feller come out I backed up an' he got by me. I throwed the fire at him an' it lit on his back an' burnt' him. I never seen a coon run so fast. But the dogs soon treed him again an' we got him. Then we come back an' the dogs picked up the trail uv another one an' we catched him. I never seed a bigger one. He was as long as this umbrella (3-1/2 ft.) The other one got away. Coon huntin' was a great sport with the boys an' men in those days.

I catched the only grey eagle that was ever seen 'round here. They was a bunch of us boys out rabbit huntin' one day one fall. The dogs got after a rabbit an' chased it across a holler out o' range. I had the only gun in the crowd an' was right after that rabbit. The dogs run over the track an' could see 'em over on the hillside jess settin' still. All at once I seen a big bird—I taken it to be a hawk, fold its wings like a man'd fold his arms 'round his body, and drop straight down on the rabbit. But the rabbit saw it too for when the eagle got there he was ten feet up the hillside. The bird hit, "boom", jest like that. But the rabbit was goin' over the hill an' the eagle musta saw him for he riz an' flew in that direction.

'You boys stay back, I'll kill that hawk. That's the biggest hawk I ever seen,' I told them. When I got to the top of the ridge I seen him settin' in the top uv a big tree. The boys stayed where I told them and I slipped along till I got pritty close enough to shoot him. He was either watchin' the rabbit or didn't think I was watchin' him for I got pritty close before he started to fly. Jess as he opened his wings I let him have it with my old muzzle loader shotgun. Down he come makin' as much noise as a whole flock o' hawks oughta made. He was alive when I got to him an' made right at me, strikin' with his claws an' bill. The dogs come when they heard the shot an' he whipped 'em off. Every time he struck one of 'em he (the dog) would holler like he'd been speared. The other boys wanted to kill it but I gotta a long pole an' got it on him so's it held him down. We'd found out by this time that one wing was broke by my shot. So we jess hold of the tips of his wings an' led him to the house. His wing spread was 'bout six or eight feet. When I got him to the house I told 'em I had the biggest hawk they ever seen. A ole man by the same of William said, "Hell that ain't no hawk, that's a grey eagle." A ole colored fiddler, named Fred Roberts, sent word he'd buy it from me. He even got so fraid he wouldn't get it that he come for it.

'What'll you take for him', he asked me, and before I could say anything he says, ‘I’ll give a dollar for him'.

That was a lot of money for me an' boy like I sold him then and there. I coulda got two or maybe three dollars for him. Fred taken him to town an' fed him live hens and raw meat. On court days or when there was a crowd in town he showed him for ten cents a look. I bet he made $50.00 on him. People yousta to come for miles to see that eagle. He finally died.

Fishin' was good too. We cut our poles in the woods an' used to flax thread for lines. Where people built water-gaps in fences that crossed the creeks the water'd fill in till it made a dam. Then the creek spread behind it. Them water holes was full o1 perch an' cat fish. They didn't get much bigger them your hand but they bit fast and we had lots o' fun catchin' 'em.

CHRISTIAN CO.
(Mamie Hanberry)
Annie B. Boyd:

[TR: Interviewer's name also spelled also spelled Hanbery.]

Annie B. Boyd, born August 22nd 1851, resides at corner of Liberty and First Street, Hopkinsville, Kentucky. Born a slave belonging to Charles Cammack near Gordonsville, Kentucky in Christian County. "My mother and me war put on de block in front of de Courthouse in Hopkinsville and sold to Mr. Newt. Catlett and we brung $500.00. Marse Catlett lived on the corner of Seventh and Clay Streets, Hopkinsville, Kentucky. Wen I was older the white folks had me foh to nurse dar chilluns. I noes wen de war broke out marse had a store and den marsa took me to his wife's kinfolks down in de country till freedom war declared den my stepfather come an' got me. Of course I hed ter work and den I went ter nurse foh Dr. Fairleigh and nussed his daughter Madge. De white folks wont good to me. My marster was a good man but my missus wont no good woman. She uster box my ears, stick pins in me and tie me ter de cedar chest and whoop me as long as she wanter. Oh, how I did hate dat woman.

"Yes, once in my life I seed a ghost. We was goin' thru de woods to a neighbors ter a prayer meeting en a man stepped out in de woad without no head wid all his clothes on en I had jes wropped my head dat day and wen I seed him all my hair strings en all jes stood straight up. I got hot den I'se got cold and he jest stepped ter de side of de road en I went by running. Yes, we got ter de prayer meeting en den we went back home de same way en did us niggers run?

"I was nurse in slave time en I carried de chilluns all ober de house en one day I had de chilluns upstars en my missus called me en I went ter see whar she wont and while I'se war gone de baby got hodter Indian Turnip an hed bit it by de time I git back dar en I called my missus en she come en made me eat de rest of de turnip en my face enall swelled up en my eyes war closed foh days. After missing de baby en tending ter de uther chilluns all de day an night wen I put de baby ter bed I bed ter knit two round ebery night en would be sleepy en my missus would reach ober en jab a pin in me to keep me awake. Now dat is what I calls a mean woman.

"I kin read en write at first of freedom I sent ter school some en learned ter read and write.

"I sho do believe in dreams. I had one once I laid down on de bed ter take er nap en den I dreamed dat somethin was a chokin me en I pulled at my dress en a big snake dropped out of my bosom rolled down on de bed. Den on de floor en when I woke up sho nuff dar war a snake on de floor by de bed en I killed it en den I knowed dat I had an enemy sho nuff in a few days a woman I thot was my friend turned gain me. By killing de snake I knowed dat I would conquer dat enemy.

"I noes wishes cen come tru seems ter me I hev but my memory aint so good but still I believes hit.

"Wen de smoke flies low hit sho is goin ter snow."

"Spilling salt or ter waste salt is bad luck. I always wen I makes my bread put de salt in de bread den I puts some of de salt in de fire ter bring me good luck.

"Sometime de moon affects people wen it changes hit makes some folks crazy en dey is hard to git alon wid."

"If you plant Irish pertatoes on de light of de moon you hev nuthin but top. Whatever ter be made underneath de ground like turnips, potatoes, onions is ter be planted by de dark of de moon. Beans, peas, corn in de light of de moon.

"Yes, spit will cure, cause I had ringworms once en in de morning wen I woke up afore I spoke ter anyone I'd take spit en put on my face en hit sho cured de ringworms."

(Signs)

"If you nail a horse shoe ober de door hits a good luck ter you.

"I thin "13" is an unlucky number I'se heard so much talk of hit till I believes hit. Breaking a mirror is sho bad luck if you break one you will hev seben years bad luck."

"Blue gummed niggers is shon bad luck wen I sees one gits as far away as I kin foh if one bites you you is a ded nigger foh dey is pizen as er diamond back."

"De white folks jes made niggers carry on like brutes. One white man uster say ter nuther white man, "My nigger man Sam wanter marry yer nigger gal Lucy what does yer say en if he said hit war all right why dat couple war supposed to be married. Den Sam would work foh his marster in de daytime en den would spend de night at Lucy's house on de next plantation."