"Aftuh ah come back heah tuh Commerce Ah started a school, Ah called it 'Select School' an' they each paid fifty cents a month—grown folks come tuh mah school some o' em fifty an sixty year old an ah had all ah cud take caah of—Latuh, Ah taught school out in the country.
"Why do they call me doctuh? See that diploma on the wall! I got that fum a school of hypnotism. Yes'm a correspondence course. No'm, I nevuh practised it much, jes a little now an then for fun.
"One time the Ku Klux come aroun. They knock on the doah, then they say 'Please give me a drink, Ah ain't had a drink since the battle o' Shiloh.' What fo' they say that? Why, you see, they wants us tuh think they's the spirits a' the sojers killed at Shiloh an they been in hell so long they drinks all the water they kin git. This one man make us carry him five buckets of water, an' it look like he drink em but nex mahnin' theys a big mud puddle side thu doah."
[Alice Sewell]
Interview with Alice Sewell,
St. Louis, Missouri.
She Never Attended School
Never having attended school a day in her 86 years of life has not cramped the style of Alice Sewell, one of St. Louis' former Negro slaves. Alice lives with a married daughter, Mattie Hill, and a grandson, Henry Morse, at 329 South Ewing Avenue.
Spotlessly dressed, much after the fashion of a nurse, and weighing less than 100 pounds, Alice presents a pleasing picture as she chats interestingly with visitors. Her mind is keenly alive to what is going on in the world. She is much annoyed by the roistering younger folks, as she outlines in her observations in the following chat:
"I was born in Montgomery, Alabama, November 13, 1851, the daughter of Rhoda and Edmond Carey. I have three brothers and two sisters dead. I am the only child living. I ain't never been in a school house in my life and I never did learn how to read or write. I recollect three of my overseers. The first one's name Elik Clayton, the second one named Mofield and the third one named Pierson. I was 13 years old time de third one got me and de war had started, so we had to pack all de cotton up in bales, and in sun face houses and sun face cribs to be out of the weather. The seed cotton was kept in de gin house, 'cause dey didn't had no time to fool wid dat. Den dey up and bought spinning wheels and cards, so us women could spin it to make cloth, and make clothes at home, and would not have to go to de factory to buy clothes.
"Dey had to keep de money to care for de families de soldiers left behind, and send corn by de loads to de battlefield to feed de horses. Dey stopped raising cotton after de war started, and just raised food stuff 'cause dey had to send food to de battlefield for de soldiers. De poor white folks what lived up in de hilly country, too poor to own slaves, while de war was going on, had to come down out of de hilly country. Dey lived on government land and dey had to have food for dem and der children. Der men folks was taken away from dem to war. Dey was called counterscript soldiers, and if dey refused to go to war dey got shot down like a dog. So de most of 'em rather go on and take chances of de war missing 'em dan get shot widout a doubt. Dey use to say dey had to go and fight a rich man's war but dey couldn't help demselves no better'n us slaves could.
"My owner was very rich. He owned four plantations of slaves. He had two plantations on de Tallapoosa River, one named Jedkins upper ferry plantation and de other Jedkins Mill Place and the third plantation was called The Bradshaw Place. It was out from de river and de fourth one was called De High Log Plantation. He was always fairly kind to his slaves. He didn't believe in abusing dem less he couldn't help it, and when he'd find out de overseers beat 'em widout a cause, he'd fire 'em right away, and git somebody else. Dat's why he so prosperous, 'cause he was fair. He never even 'lowed overseers on his plantation what had grown boys, to be runnin' round 'mongst his slaves neither, no he didn't. He didn't believe in dat intermingling, 'deed he didn't. Dey didn't 'low us to sing on our plantation 'cause if we did we just sing ourselves happy and git to shouting and dat would settle de work, yes mam.