"No'm, dey wasn't none of us ever try to run away. We had a good home and we all stayed till dey declare peace and lots of us kept on a staying 'cause we didn't know nothing else to do. But my father was industrious—he worked hard and saved his money and in a couple of year he bought a team and we moved to a little place.
"But lots of de cullud folks had it hard dem days—dey was jest turned loose and didn't know what to do. Some of de white folks was mighty good to 'em. If they'd hear of a family being hungry dey'd send food to 'em or have 'em come to dey kitchen.
"A cose mebbe it don't sound right but in some ways I often wish we's back in dem days. We had a fine place. Every year we'd kill seventy or seventy-five hogs—and had plenty of every thing. We ate our meals in our own cabin but every morning at seven, de colored housewoman went to de smoke house to cut meat for de day. Us youngsters all ganged up round her, hoping to get something. Lotsa times missus would ask us if we's hungry and bring us into de kitchen and give us what dey had left. Sometime she have de women make up pancakes for us. Us children had de chores to do—and any work dat we's able.
"We didn't have no school. A woman come and stay all year round jest to teach little Miss Lucy and she taught some of de cullud children to read and write. Missus would have a preacher come once a month to preach. I rec'lect his name was Rev. Watts. All of us would come into de big house for meeting.
"Many a time we seen soldiers pass on de road but dey never molested us none, 'cept to come in and eat everything that was cooked—and sometime have de women cook up some more. One Sunday morning a bunch of 'em come by—dey had been over to Burfordville and burned de mill. Another Sunday a bunch of Rebs come by and camped 'bout a mile from our place. Dat night de Blue Coats ran onto 'em. Dey killed about thirty. Next morning us boys went over there and what we saw didn't suit me none. Some of de cullud men helped to bury 'em.
"We had lots a good times in dem days. Us boys played marbles and ball and other games like boys will. On Saturdays from five to nine we all had off—den we'd congregate—and have singing and dancing. At Christmas and such days we'd have a big time. When dey's a wedding missus always dressed 'em and fixed 'em up. I rec'lect one time missus sold my mother and four children but it wasn't no trade. De woman's name was Mrs. Sheppard and she was a sassy old woman. She come into my mother's cabin and grabbed her and told her she going to take her home. Mother jes' pushed her out de door and said she wouldn't go—and she told missus she wouldn't go—so dey had to call it off—it was no trade."
(Smoky Eulenberg lives about three blocks northwest of the courthouse in Jackson. The house was all nice and clean, his sheets and pillows all snowy white and freshly ironed. He has been bedfast for a long time. His wife is an interesting person, but she remembers nothing of slave days.)
[Ann Ulrich Evans]
Interview with Ann Ulrich Evans,
St. Louis, Missouri.
Wed For Economic Reasons
Although 94 years of living have dimmed her eyes a bit and the burdens she's packed through the years have bent her wiry frame Ann Ulrich Evans, a former slave, is still able to carry on. She lives in a rear apartment of the slum district at 1405 North Eighth Street with her daughter, Eliza Grant.