PLANTATION LIFE as viewed by Ex-Slave
TOM HAWKINS
163 Bremen Street
Athens, Georgia.
Written by: Sadie B. Hornsby
Athens —
Edited by: Sarah H. Hall
Athens —
Leila Harris
Augusta, Ga.
TOM HAWKINS
Ex-Slave—Age 75.
Tom was nowhere to be seen when the interviewer mounted the steps of his cabin. Daisy, his wife, was ironing on the back porch and when she learned the object of the proposed interview, she readily agreed to induce Tom to talk. She approached a basement door and called: "Tom, here's one of dem giver'ment ladies what's come to hear you talk 'bout slavery days." Tom replied: "All right, Miss Daisy, I'se a-comin'." The old man soon appeared feeling his way with his cane carefully before each hesitant step. Tom is blind. Established comfortably in his favorite chair, he talked freely.
"I was borned on Marse Johnny Poore's plantation 'bout four miles f'um Belton, South Callina. Marse Johnny owned my Ma, Mornin' Poore, and all three of her chillun. Dey was me and Johnny, and Mollie. My Pa was Tom Hawkins and he was named for his owner. De Hawkins plantation was 'bout a mile f'um de Poore place. Atter Ma married Pap, dey each one had to stay on wid deir own Marster. Dey couldn't stay on de same plantation together. I don't 'member much 'bout Gran'ma Jennie Poore 'cept dat she was de cook at de big house. Gran'pa Wade Poore was de blacksmith and Marse Johnny got a big price when he sold him to Dr. Chandler. Some of de slaves made demselfs corded beds and others jus' had makeshifts. De beds and cabins was good 'nough for de Niggers den, 'cause dey never had knowed no better. Gangs of slaves slept together lak hogs in dem dirt-floored log cabins.
"Chilluns what was big 'nough to do anything had to wuk. I was a moughty little chap when dey started me in as houseboy. I slept on a trun'le (trundle) bed in Miss Annie's room. In de daytime my little trun'le bed was rolled back out of sight under Miss Annie's big old four poster teester bed. I kep' a fire burnin' in her room winter and summer. Night times she would call me. 'Tom! Tom!' Sometimes I was so soun' asleep I didn't answer. Den pop, she would hit me on de head wid her long stick. Den I knowed hit was time to fire up her pipe. She smoked dat pipe a pow'ful lot atter Marse Johnny died.
"Grown slaves made a little money, but I never got none 'til atter de war. I didn't have no cause to want no money. Miss Annie, she give me evvything I needed.
"Oh, but us had plenty of good things to eat on de Poore plantation—meat and bread wid lots of turnips and 'tatoes. 'Bout once a month dey give us lallyhoe. Dey calls dat 'lasses now. Us et our breakfast and dinner out of wooden bowls. Under a long shed built next to de kitchen was a long trough. At night dey crumbled cornbread in it, and poured it full of buttermilk. Grown folks and chilluns all gathered 'roun' dat old trough and et out of it wid deir wooden spoons. No Ma'am, dere warn't no fightin' 'roun' dat trough. Dey all knowed better'n dat.
"Us got 'possums and rabbits de best ways us could—cotch 'em in traps, hit 'em wid rocks, and trailed 'em wid dogs. Us lakked 'possums baked wid 'tatoes, but most of de rabbits was stewed wid dumplin's. All our cookin' was done on big open fireplaces. Dey didn't fry nothin' dem days; leastwise dey never give de slaves no fried victuals. Grown folks seined for fish in Big Crick and Saluda River at night, 'cause dey couldn't git away f'um field wuk in de day. Chillun cotch a heap of fish wid hook and line. De river and crick bofe run thoo' Miss Annie's plantation so us didn't have to ax for a pass evvy time us went a fishin'. Us allus had to have a pass if us left de plantation for anything or de patterollers was apt to git you and look out den, for you was sho' to git a larrupin' if dey cotch you off f'um home widout no pass.
"Dere warn't but one gyarden on de Poore plantation, and it was big enough to feed all de white folks and slaves too. Two whole acres of dat gyarden was sowed down in turnips.
"Chilluns didn't wear but one piece of clothes in summer; dat was a shirt. In winter dey doubled up on us wid two shirts. I 'members how dem shirt tails used to pop in de wind when us runned fast. Us chillun used to tie up de 'bacco, what us stole f'um Miss Annie, in de under-arm part of de long loose sleeves of our shirts. Us didn't git no shoes for our foots, winter or summer, 'til us was ten years old.