Charles Anderson lived in enslavement Kentucky before and during the Civil War. In this excerpt, he describes witnessing a woman being auctioned off to enslavers who wanted females who could conceive and raise children to be enslaved in the future.
I seen a woman sold. They had on her a short dress, no sleeves, so they could see her muscles, I reckon. They would buy them and put them with good healthy men to raise young slaves. I heard that. I was very small when I seen that young woman sold and years later I heard that was what was done.
Interviewee Formerly enslaved person
Birth Year (Age)
Interviewer WPA Volunteer
Enslaver’s Name
Charles Anderson
Unknown (77 or 78)
Irene Robertson
Isaac and Davis Stone
Interview Location
Residence State
Birth Location
Helena, AR
Arkansas
Nelson County, Kentucky
Themes & Keywords
Additional Tags:
Gender/Gender Roles, Intersectionality
First Person, Witnessed Extreme Cruelty, Slaver Father
Master Bogie owned about 200 acres of land in the eastern section of the county, and as far as I can remember there were only four slaves on the place. We lived in a one-room cabin, with a loft above, and this cabin was an old fashioned one about hundred yards from the house. We lived in one room, with one bed in the cabin. The one bed was an old fashioned, high post corded bed where my father and mother slept. My sister and I slept in a trundle bed, made like the big bed except the posts were made smaller and were on rollers, so it could be rolled under the big bed. There was also a cradle, made of a wooden box, with rockers nailed on, and my mother told me that she rocked me in that cradle when I was a baby. She used to sit and sing in the evening. She carded the wool and spun yarn on the old spinning wheel. My grandfather was a slave of Talton Embry, whose farm joined the Wheeler farm. He made shingles with a steel drawing knife that had a wooden handle. He made these shingles in Mr. Embry’s yard. I do not remember my grandmother, and I didn’t have to work in slave days, because my mother and father did all the work except the heavy farm work. My Mistus used to give me my winter clothes. My shoes were called brogans. My old master had shoes made. He would put my foot on the floor and mark around it for the measure of my shoes.
Most of the cooking was in an oven in the yard, over the bed of coals. Baked possum and groundhog in the oven, stewed rabbits, fried fish and fried bacon called streaked meat all kinds of vegetables, boiled cabbage, pone cornbread, and sorghum molasses. Old folks would drink coffee, but children would drink milk, especially buttermilk.
Dan Bogie lived in enslavement on a small plantation with few enslaved persons. In this excerpt, he describes the relationship he developed with the enslavers’ children, as well as his first experiences with education and religion.
There were four slaves. My mother did cooking and the men did the work. Bob Wheeler and Arch Bogie were our masters. Both were good and kind to us. I never saw a slave shipped, for my boss did not believe in that kind of punishment. My master had four boys, named Rube, Falton, Horace, and Billie. Rube and me played together and when we acted bad old Master always licked Rube three or four times harder than he did me because Rube was older. Their daughter was named American Wheeler, for her mother.
White folks did not teach us to read and write. I learned that after I left my white folks. There was no church for slaves, but we went to the white folks’ church at Mr. Freedom. We sat in the gallery. The first colored preacher I ever heard was old man Leroy Estill. He preached in the Freedom meeting house (Baptist). I stood on the banks of Paint Lick Creek and saw my mother baptized, but do not remember the preacher’s name or any of the songs they sang.
We did not work on Saturday afternoon. The men would go fishing, and the women would go to the neighbors’ and help each other piece quilts. We used to have big times at the corn shuckings. The neighbors would come and help. We would have campfires and sing songs, and usually a big dance at the barn when the corn was shucked. Some of the slaves from other plantations would pick the banjo, then the dance. Miss America married Sam Ward. I was too young to remember only that they had good things to eat.
Easter Sudie Campbell was born near the end of the Civil War. She describes her many experiences as a free midwife in Kentucky. Here, she describes several experiences she has had supporting women during pregnancy and while giving birth.
When I go on a baby case, I just let nature have its way. I always test the baby, the first thing I do is blow my breath in the baby’s mouth. I spank it just a little so it will cry and I give it warm catnip tea so if it is going to have the hives they will break out on it. I always have my own catnip and sheep balls, for some cases need one kind of tea and some another. I give sink field tea for the colic. It is just good for a young baby’s stomach. I have been granning for nigh under forty years and I only lost two babies that were born alive. One of these was the white man’s fault, this baby was born with the jaundice and I told this white man to go to the store and get me some calomel and he says, whoever heard of giving a baby such truck, and so that baby died.
Of course you can tell whether the baby is going to be a boy or girl before he is born. If the mother carries that child more on the left and high up, that baby will be a boy; and if she carries it more to the middle, that will be a girl. Mothers ought to be more careful while carrying their children not to get scared of anything, for they will sure mark their babies with terrible ugly things. I know once a young woman was expecting and she went blackberry hunting and a bull cow with long horns got after her and she was so scared that she threw her hands over her head. And when that baby boy was born he had two nubs on his head just like horns beginning to grow. So I had her call her doctor and they cut them off. One white woman I waited on liked hot chocolate and she always wanted more, she never had enough of that stuff, and one day she spills some on her leg and it just splotched and burned her and when that gal was born, she had a big brown spot on her leg just like her mammy’s scar from the burn. Now you see, I know you can mark the babies.
There was a colored woman once I waited on that had to help the white folks kill hogs and she never did like hog liver but the white folks told her to take one home and fix it for her supper. Well, she picked that thing up and started off with it and it made her feel creepy all over. And that night her baby was born, a gal child, and the print of a big hog-liver was standing out all over one side of her face. That side of her face is all blue and purplish and just the shape of a liver. And it’s still there.
I grannied over three hundred children and I know what I’m talking about.
A cruel master enslaved Ellen Cave before and during the Civil War. Her recollections of cruel treatment by her enslaver are recorded in this excerpt. Especially notable is the example of the children or enslavers and their enslaved being sold to other plantations.
Mrs. Cave told of seeing wagon loads of slaves sold down the river. She, herself was put on the block several times but never actually sold, although she would have preferred being sold rather than the continuation of the ordeal of the block.
Her master was a “mean man” who drank heavily, he had twenty slaves that he fed now and then, and gave her her freedom after the war only when she would remain silent about it no longer.
. . . Mrs. Cave said that her master’s father had many young women slaves and sold his own half-breed children down the river to Louisiana plantations where the work was so severe that the slaves soon died.
While in slavery, Mrs. Cave worked as a maid in the house until she grew older when she was forced to do all kinds of outdoor labor. She remembered sawing logs in the snow all day. In the summer she pitched hay or any other man’s work in the field. She was trained to carry three buckets of water at the same time, two in her hands and one on her head, and said she could still do it.
On this plantation, the chief article of food for the slaves was bran-bread, although the master’s children were kind and often slipped them out meat or other food.
Frank Cooper was a child when he first spoke to his mother about her experiences being enslaved. This excerpt starts with her reaction to he and his siblings asking her about scars on their backs. After she has given them a taste of her experiences, she goes on to tell them of a time when she was whipped and severely beaten by her enslavers. The excerpt ends with her enslaver attempting to auction her off, only to stop the sale to an enslaver who only wanted to punish her.
First person, whipped, witnessed extreme cruelty, slave traders, sold (family)
Excerpt:
One day while my mammy was washing her back my sistah noticed ugly disfiguring scars on it. Inquiring about them, we found, much to our amazement, that they were mammy’s relics of the now gone, if not forgotten, slave days.
This was her first reference to her misery days that she had ever made in my presence. Of course we all thought she was telling us a big story and we made fun of her. With eyes flashing, she stopped bathing, dried her back and reached for the smelly ole black whip that hung behind the kitchen door. Bidding us to strip down to our waists, my little mammy with the boney bent-over back, struck each of us as hard as ever she could with that black-snake whip, each stroke of the whip drew blood from our backs. Now, she said to us, you have a taste of slavery days. With three of her children now having tasted of some of her misery days she was in the mood to tell us more of her sufferings; still indelibly impressed in my mind.
‘My ole back is bent over from the quick-tempered blows feld by the red-headed Miss Burton. At dinner time one day when the churning wasn’t finished for the noonday meal, she said with an angry look that must have been reborn in my mammy’s eyes—eyes that were dimmed by years and hard living, three white women beat me from anger because they had no butter for their biscuits and cornbread. Miss Burton used a heavy board while the missus used a whip. While I was on my knees begging’ them to quit, Miss Burton hit the small of my back with the heavy board.I knew no more until kind Mr. Hamilton, who was staying with the white folks, brought me inside the cabin and brought me around with the camphor bottle. I’ll always thank him—God bless him—he picked me up where they had left me like a dog to die in the blazing noonday sun.
‘After my back was broken it was doubted whether I would ever be able to work again or not. I was placed on the auction block to be bidded for so my owner could see if I was worth anything or not. One man bid $1700 after putting’ two dirty fingers in my mouth to see my teeth. I bit him and his face showed anger. He then wanted to own me so he could punish me. Thinking his bid of $1700 was official, he unstrapped his buggy whip to beat me, but my master saved me. My master declared the bid unofficial. At this auction my sister was sold for $1900 and was never seen by us again.’
Julia King lived with her entire family on the same plantation. When she was very young, her father, mother and sister all ran away and escaped via the Underground Railroad. Here, she tells the tale, as she knows it, of her mother’s escape.
Mamma was keeping house. Papa paid the white people who owned them, for her time. He left before Mamma did. He ran away to Canada on the Underground Railroad.
My mother’s mistress—I don’t remember her name—used to come and take Mary with her to market every day. The morning my mother ran away, her mistress decided she wouldn’t take Mary with her to market. Mamma was glad, because she had almost made up her mind to go, even without Mary.
Mamma went down to the boat. A man on the boat told Mamma not to answer the door for anybody, until he gave her the signal. The man was a Quaker, one of those people who says ‘Thee’ and ‘Thou’. Mary kept on calling out the mistress’s name and Mamma couldn’t keep her still.
When the boat docked, the man told Mamma he thought her master was about. He told Mamma to put a veil over her face, in case the master was coming. He told Mamma he would cut the master’s heart out and give it to her, before he would ever let her be taken.
She left the boat before reaching Canada, somewhere on the Underground Railroad—Detroit, I think—and a woman who took her in said: ‘Come in, my child, you’re safe now.’ Then Mamma met my father in Windsor. I think they were taken to Canada free.
Lucy Warfield spent her childhood and young adult life enslaved. She doesn’t know her age, but she was an adult and married when the Civil War broke out. In this excerpt, she describes why she doesn’t know when she was born, as well as the difficulty of the work she was given as an enslaved person. She finishes by describing how one of her mother’s sisters was able to escape to Canada.
Lordy child, I’ve been old so long that the affliction of years makes me forget lots and lots I might tell you. I was born in Jessamine County, Kentucky, but I can’t say what year, because White folks didn’t keep count of their slaves’ ages. They were just like chickens- like so many chickens.
I know I was a married woman when the war came, and they say I am more than a hundred, Nannie says I’m about 117. But I just don’t know. Anyhow, I know that God’s been awful good to me.
. . . They never did give me a whipping, but they sure worked me hard. I did a man’s work on the place; putting’ up stone fences and rail fences, splitting’ rails, breaking hemp, plowing fields, doing corn planting’, and anything the men were supposed to do, and I was supposed to say nothing. The good Lord only knows just what I’ve been through.
I remember when one of my mother’s sisters ran off and got safe into Canada. She was a fine woman and she didn’t care for anything except to be free. She did what more of them ought to have done – me, too, because I was grown in size long time before we were free- but they were just afraid.
Sarah Waggoner was a 93 year old formerly enslaved person. She remembers a great deal about her life of enslavement. In this excerpt she first describes how her enslaver worked her much harder late in the Civil War because she knew the enslaved were likely to be freed. She then goes on to describe the work and the life she lived inside her enslavers’ house.
During the war, Old Miss kept telling me I had to help her put new cloth in the loom and when little Jane, that’s her little girl, wanted me to play, her mother would say, ’Sarey has to work fast now, because she is going to be free’. Oh Lord, Miss, Sarey will never be free. But I was freed.
Now I am going to tell you about home life. I worked in the house for Old Miss, and we had plenty to do and plenty to eat. When the white folks were through eating, I got a pan and got the grub, and sat on the floor and ate it.
Oh Lordy, but I worked hard since I was twelve years old. But not in the fields. Old Miss said there was plenty for me to do in the house, and there was, sure enough. I washed and cooked for all of us. And ironed too. I’d heat the irons, great big old irons, in the fireplace. I ironed on a quilt spread out on the floor, and I ironed just as nice as anybody. I lived right in the house with the white folks. In summer we slept, my brother Henry and me, in a trundle bed in the kitchen; and in the winter made a pallet beside the fireplace. Old Pap was good to us. He kept up a fire all night when it was cold. I never saw a cooking stove or a lace shoe until I was freed. We just had to burn our faces cooking over the fireplace. I milked eight cows and then put the milk away. That took a long time. They didn’t have horses then, much. They had a yoke of oxen. Sometimes some of us were hired out to work but we didn’t get any money for that ourselves. They drawed the wages.
Amy Elizabeth Patterson was born into enslavement, where her mother served as a personal maid and wet nurse for the enslaver’s children. This third person narrative retells Patterson’s experiences as the daughter of an enslaver’s maid, as well as her mother’s experiences giving birth to and raising children for her enslavers.
Louisa Street, the mother of Amy Elizabeth Patterson, was a housemaid at the Street home and her firstborn daughter was fair with gold-brown hair and amber eyes. Mr. and Mrs. Street always promised Louisa they would never sell her as they did not want to part with the child, so Louisa was given a small cabin near the master’s house. The mistress had a child near the age of the little mulatto and Louisa was a wet nurse for both children as well as a maid to Mrs. Street. Two years after the birth of Amy Elizabeth, Louisa became the mother of twin daughters, Fannie and Martha Street, then John Street decided to sell all his slaves as he contemplated moving into another territory.
The slaves were auctioned to the highest bidder and Louisa and the twins were bought by a man living near Cadiz but Mr. Street refused to sell Amy Elizabeth. She showed promise of growing into an excellent housemaid and seamstress and was already a splendid playmate and nurse to the little Street boy and girl. So Louisa lost her child but such grief was shown by both mother and child that the mother was unable to perform her tasks and the child cried continually. Then Mr. Street consented to sell the little girl to the mother’s new master.
Louisa Street became the mother of seventeen children. Three were almost white. Amy Elizabeth was the daughter of John Street and half-sister of his children by his lawful wife. Mrs. Street knew the facts and respected Louisa and her child and, says grandmother Patterson, “That was the greatest crime ever visited on the United States. It was worse than the cruelty of the overseers, worse than hunger, for many slaves were well fed and well cared for; but when a father can sell his own child, humiliate his own daughter by auctioning her on the slave block, what good could be expected where such practices were allowed?”
Interviewee Formerly enslaved person
Birth Year (Age)
Interviewer WPA Volunteer
Enslaver’s Name
Amy Elizabeth Patterson
1850 (87)
Lauana Creel
John Street
Interview Location
Residence State
Birth Location
Vanderburgh County, IN
Indiana
Kentucky
Themes & Keywords
Additional Tags:
Gender/gender roles, family
Third person, Sold (self or family), Enslaver father, slave traders
Patterson_A_1
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