It was a beautiful brisk morning in October when I turned into main street to call on one of the most unique and interesting characters that we have among our colored citizens.
Upon arriving at the house where Uncle Dave lives, I made my way through a side gate and the first thing that greeted me in his back yard was a sign, "No Truspassing." I called to a tenant who rents his home to inquire where I might find Uncle Dave. We looked about the premises, and called him, but no response. I was just about to leave in despair, when the colored girl said "maybe he can be found inside," whereupon we called him forth.
He greeted me with a deep peal of laughter, saying "now you done caught me sho, Mistiss!" I told him the story of my mission, and, after making various excuses he finally, with a studied reluctance, consented to talk to me a while. He called the colored girl and asked her to bring a chair into the yard, which he placed near his favorite out-door lounging place, and invited me to sit down. Then, with a hearty laugh he said, "now Miss, just what is it you want me to tell you?"
"I want you to tell me all about yourself back in slavery days and since, Uncle Dave."
"Miss, if I tell you all I know, then you will know as much about me as I know." Again he burst into laughter, and constrained by a high sense of propriety, but with perfect ease, he began to relate to me in a manner and style all his own, some of the facts connected with his life.
"Miss, my name is David Goodman Gullins. I was born in 1854 on the 27th day of December, in Putnam County, about 3½ miles from Eatonton, on the Greensboro Road. I was born in slavery, my father and mother being owned by Mr. J. W. Mappin. Marse Mappin was not a large slave holder, since he only had about thirty-five slaves, but he was what we call a 'coming man'. I do not remember how much land he owned, but nothing like some of the very wealthy land and slave owners. My owner was a comparatively young man, say middle aged, weighing about 190 pounds, with a fairly good education and withall a first rate man. My earliest recollection of him was his perfectly bald head. It looked like a peeled onion. He married a widow, Mrs. Elizabeth Lawson, who had two sons; one who was Judge Thomas G. Lawson of the Ocmulgee Circuit, and Zurst Lawson, who was killed in the war. My owners were very good to their slaves.
"My father's name was John Mappin. He of course went by the name of the owner. My mother's name was Catharine. She was bought from an owner by the name of Milline by my master, and she became Catharine Mappin. I know nothing of their lives, their childhood, their struggles, hardships, etc., and where they came from. There were eleven boys and one girl in our family, I being the third oldest boy born. Three brothers born after me died in infancy. My mother raised only five of her sons to manhood, and my sister is still living in Eatonton, Ga. She is Gracie Roby. I have one brother still living, W. R. Gullins, a minister. He is somewhere in North Carolina. When this brother was born, Mistress had a lot of company, and all the ladies wanted to name the new baby for their best friends. So the baby was named Willie Richard Edgar Mappin for the best friends of the young ladies. He later dropped the name Edgar and goes by the name of Willie Richard Gullins.
"Uncle David you say your owners name was Mappin, why is your name Gullins?"
"Well, Miss, I'll have to digress a little to give you the history of the name. Every effect has a cause you know, and after I got old enough to reason things out, I wondered too why my name was Gullins, so I did some investigating and the story goes like this.
"When I was a very small boy back before the war, a circus came to town. I remember the clown, whose name was Gullins. My father, John Mappin, was so much like the clown in his ways and sayings, that afterwards everyone started calling him Gullins. This soon became a sort of nickname. Some years after when slaves were freed, they were all registered, most of them taking the family name of their owners. When time came for my father to register, the Registrar says, "John, what name are you going to register under, Mappin or Gullins? Everyone calls you Gullins, and they will always call you Gullins. My father, after thinking for a moment said, "just put down Gullins." By this time I was beginning to think that Uncle Dave was pretty much of a clown himself.