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Slave Narrative of Charlie Barbour

Interviewer: Mary A. Hicks
Person Interviewed: Charlie Barbour
Date of Interview: May 20, 1937
Location: Smithfield, North Carolina
Age: 86

I belonged ter Mr. Bob Lumsford hyar in Smithfield from de time of my birth. My mammy wuz named Candice an’ my pappy’s name wuz Seth. My brothers wuz Rufus, William an’ George, an’ my sisters wuz Mary an’ Laura.

I ‘minds me of de days when as a youngin’ [HW correction: youngun’] I played marbles an’ hide an’ seek. Dar wuzn’t many games den, case nobody ain’t had no time fer ‘em. De grown folkses had dances an’ sometimes co’n shuckin’s, an’ de little niggers patted dere feets at de dances an’ dey he’p ter shuck de co’n. At Christmas we had a big dinner, an’ from den through New Year’s Day we feast, an’ we dance, an’ we sing. De fust one what said Christmas gift ter anybody else got a gif’, so of cou’se we all try ter ketch de marster.

On de night ‘fore de first day of Jinuary we had a dance what lasts all night. At midnight when de New Year comes in marster makes a speech an’ we is happy dat he thanks us fer our year’s wuck an’ says dat we is good, smart slaves.

Marster wucked his niggers from daylight till dark, an’ his thirteen grown slaves had ter ten’ ’bout three hundred acres o’ land. Course dey mostly planted co’n, peas an’ vege’ables.

I can ‘member, do’ I wuz small, dat de slaves wuz whupped fer disobeyin’ an’ I can think of seberal dat I got. I wuz doin’ housewuck at de time an’ one of de silber knives got misplaced. Dey ‘cused me of misplacin’ it on purpose, so I got de wust beatin’ dat I eber had. I wuz beat den till de hide wuz busted hyar an’ dar.

We little ones had some time ter go swimmin’ an’ we did; we also fished, an’ at night we hunted de possum an’ de coon sometimes. Ole Uncle Jeems had some houn’s what would run possums or coons an’ he uster take we boys ‘long wid him.

I ‘members onct de houn’s struck a trail an’ dey tree de coon. Uncle Jeems sen’s Joe, who wuz bigger den I wuz, up de tree ter ketch de coon an’ he warns him dat coons am fightin’ fellers. Joe doan pay much mind he am so happy ter git der chanct ter ketch de coon, but when he ketched dat coon he couldn’t turn loose, an’ from de way he holler yo’ would s’pose dat he ain’t neber wanted ter ketch a coon. When Joe Barbour wuz buried hyar las’ winter dem coon marks wuz still strong on his arms an’ han’s an’ dar wuz de long scar on his face.

I ‘members onct a Yankee ‘oman from New York looks at him an’ nigh ’bout faints. ‘I reckon’, says she, dat am what de cruel slave owner or driver done ter him’.

Yes mam, I knows when de Yankees comed ter Smithfield. Dey comed wid de beatin’ of drums an’ de wavin’ of flags. Dey says dat our governor wuz hyar makin’ a speech but he flewed ‘fore dey got hyar. Anyhow, we libed off from de main path of march, an’ so we ain’t been trouble so much ‘cept by ‘scootin’ parties, as my ole missus call’ em.

Dey am de darndest yo’ eber seed, dey won’t eat no hog meat ‘cept hams an’ shoulders an’ dey goes ter de smoke house an’ gits ‘em ‘thout no permission. Dey has what dey calls rammin’ rods ter dere guns an’ dey knock de chickens in de haid wid dat. I hyard dem say dat dar warn’t no use wastin’ powder on dem chickens.

Dey went ober de neighborhood stealin’ an’ killin’ stock. I hyard ’bout ‘em ketchin’ a pig, cuttin’ off his hams an’ leave him dar alive. De foun’ all de things we done hid, not dat I thinks dat dey am witches, but dat dey has a money rod, an’ ‘cides dat some of de slaves tol’ ‘em whar marster had hid de things.

Yes ‘um, I reckon I wuz glad ter git free, case I knows den dat I won’t wake up some mornin’ ter fin’ dat my mammy or some ob de rest of my family am done sold. I left de day I hyard ’bout de surrender an’ I fared right good too, do’ I knows dem what ain’t farin’ so well.

I ain’t neber learn ter read an’ write an’ I knows now dat I neber will. I can’t eben write a letter ter Raleigh ’bout my ole man’s pension.

I ‘members de days when mammy wored a blue hankerchief ’round her haid an’ cooked in de great house. She’d sometimes sneak me a cookie or a cobbler an’ fruits. She had her own little gyardin an’ a few chickens an’ we w’oud ov been happy ‘cept dat we wuz skeered o’ bein’ sold.

I’se glad dat slavery am ober, case now de nigger has got a chanct ter live an’ larn wid de whites. Dey won’t neber be as good as de whites but dey can larn ter live an’ enjoy life more.

Speakin’ ’bout de Ku Klux dey ain’t do nothin’ but scare me back in ’69, but iffen we had some now I thinks dat some of dese young niggers what has forgot what dey mammies tol’ ‘em would do better.

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