Perched on an embankment high above the street level is the four-room frame cottage where Addie Vinson lives with her daughter. The visitor scrambled up the steep incline to the vine covered porch, and a rap on the front door brought prompt response. "Who dat?" asked a very black woman, who suddenly appeared in the hall. "What you want?... Yassum, dis here's Addie, but dey calls me Mammy, 'cause I'se so old. I s'pects I'se most nigh a hunnert and eight years old."
The old Negress is very short and stout. Her dark blue calico dress was striped with lines of tiny polka dots, and had been lengthened by a band of light blue outing flannel with a darker blue stripe, let in just below the waist line. Her high-topped black shoes were worn over grey cotton hose, and the stocking cap that partially concealed her white hair was crowned by a panama hat that flopped down on all sides except where the brim was fastened up across the front with two conspicuous "safety-first" pins. Addie's eyesight is poor, and she claims it was "plum ruint by de St. Vitus's dance," from which she has suffered for many years. She readily agreed to tell of her early life, and her eyes brightened as she began: "Lawsy, Missy! Is dat what you come 'ere for? Oh, dem good old days! I was thinkin' 'bout Old Miss jus' t'other day.
"I was borned down in Oconee County on Marse Ike Vinson's place. Old Miss was Marse Ike's mother. My Mammy and Pappy was Peter and 'Nerva Vinson and dey was both field hands. Marse Ike buyed my Pappy from Marse Sam Brightwell. Me and Bill, Willis, Maze, Harrison, Easter, and Sue was all de chillun my Mammy and Pappy had. Dere warn't but four of us big enough to wuk when Marse Ike married Miss Ann Hayes and dey tuk Mammy wid 'em to dey new home in town. I stayed dar on de plantation and done lots of little jobs lak waitin' on table; totin' Old Miss' breakfast to her in her room evvy mornin', and I holped 'tend to de grainery. Dey says now dat folkses is livin' in dat old grainery house.
"Dat was a be-yootiful place, wid woods, cricks, and fields spread out most as fur as you could see. De slave quarters would'a reached from here to Milledge Avenue. Us lived in a one-room log cabin what had a chimbly made out of sticks and mud. Dem homemade beds what us slep' on had big old high posties wid a great big knob on de top of each post. Our matt'esses was coarse home-wove cloth stuffed wid field straw. You know I laked dem matt'esses 'cause when de chinches got too bad you could shake out dat straw and burn it, den scald de tick and fill it wid fresh straw, and rest in peace again. You can't never git de chinches out of dese cotton matt'esses us has to sleep on now days. Pillows? What you talkin' 'bout? You know Niggers never had no pillows dem days, leaseways us never had none. Us did have plenty of kivver dough. Folkses was all time a-piecin' quilts and having quiltin's. All dat sort of wuk was done at night.
"Pappy's Ma and Pa was Grandma Nancy and Grandpa Jacob. Day was field hands, and dey b'longed to Marse Obe Jackson. Grandma Lucy and Grandpa Toney Murrah was owned by Marse Billy Murrah. Marse Billy was a preacher what sho could come down wid de gospel at church. Grandma Lucy was his cook. Miss Sadie LeSeur got Grandma Lucy and tuk her to Columbus, Georgy, and us never seed our grandma no more. Miss Sadie had been one of de Vinson gals. She tuk our Aunt Haley 'long too to wait on her when she started out for Europe, and 'fore dey got crost de water, Aunt Haley, she died on de boat. Miss Sarah, she had a time keepin' dem boatsmens from th'owing Aunt Haley to de sharks. She is buried in de old country somewhar.
"Now Missy, how was Nigger chillun gwine to git holt of money in slavery time? Old Marse, he give us plenty of somepin t'eat and all de clothes us needed, but he sho kep' his money for his own self.
"Now 'bout dat somepin t'eat. Sho dat! Us had plenty of dem good old collards, turnips, and dem sort of oatments, and dar was allus a good chunk of meat to bile wid 'em. Marse Ike, he kep' plenty of evvy sort of meat folkses knowed about dem days. He had his own beef cattle, lots of sheep, and he killed more'n a hunnert hogs evvy year. Dey tells me dat old bench dey used to lay de meat out on to cut it up is standin' dar yet.
"'Possums? Lawd, dey was plentiful, and dat ain't all dere was on dat plantation. One time a slave man was 'possum huntin' and, as he was runnin' 'round in de bresh, he looked up and dar was a b'ar standin' right up on his hind laigs grinnin' and ready to eat dat Nigger up. Oh, good gracious, how dat Nigger did run! Dey fetched in 'possums in piles, and dere was lots of rabbits, fixes, and coons. Dem coon, fox and 'possum hounds sho knowed deir business. Lawsy, I kin jus' smell one of dem good old 'possums roastin' right now, atter all dese years. You parbiled de 'possum fust, and den roasted him in a heavy iron skillet what had a big old thick lid. Jus' 'fore de 'possum got done, you peeled ash-roasted 'taters and put 'em all 'round da 'possum so as day would soak up some of dat good old gravy, and would git good and brown. Is you ever et any good old ashcake? You wropped de raw hoecake in cabbage or collard leafs and roasted 'em in de ashes. When dey got done, you had somepin fit for a king to eat.
"De kitchen was sot off a piece from de big house, and our white folkses wouldn't eat deir supper 'fore time to light de lamps to save your life; den I had to stan' 'hind Old Miss' cheer and fan her wid a turkey-feather fan to keep de flies off. No matter how rich folkses was dem days dere warn't no screens in de houses.
"I never will forgit pore old Aunt Mary; she was our cook, and she had to be tapped evvy now and den 'cause she had de drapsy so bad. Aunt Mary's old man was Uncle Harris, and I 'members how he used to go fishin' at night. De udder slaves went fishin' too. Many's de time I'se seed my Mammy come back from Barber's Crick wid a string of fish draggin' from her shoulders down to de ground. Me, I laked milk more'n anything else. You jus' oughta seed dat place at milkin' time. Dere was a heap of cows a fightin', chillun hollerin', and sich a bedlam as you can't think up. Dat old plantation was a grand place for chillun, in summertime 'specially, 'cause dere was so many branches and cricks close by what us chillun could hop in and cool off.