Florida Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews with Former Slaves

"I kaint tell nothin bout slavery times cept what I heared folks talk about. I was too young to remember much but I recleck seein my granma milk de cows an do de washin. Granpa was old, an dey let him do light work, mosly fish an hunt. "I doan member nothin bout my daddy. He died when I was a baby. My stepfather was Stephen Anderson, an my mammy's name was Dorcas. He come fum Vajinny, but my mammy was borned an raised in Wilmington. My name was Josephine Anderson fore I married Willie Jones. I had two half-brothers youngern me, John Henry an Ed, an a half-sister, Elsie. De boys had to mind de calves an sheeps, an Elsie nursed de missus' baby. I done de cookin, mosly, an helped my mammy spin. "I was ony five year old when dey brung me to Sanderson, in Baker County, Florida. My stepfather went to work for a turpentine man, makin barrels, an he work at dat job till he drop dead in de camp. I reckon he musta had heart disease. "I doan recleck ever seein my mammy wear shoes. Even in de winter she go barefoot, an I reckon cold didn't hurt her feet no moran her hands an face. We all wore dresses made o' homespun. De thread was spun an de cloth wove right in our own home. My mamy an granmamy an me done it in spare time. "My weddin dress was blue—blue for true. I thought it was de prettiest dress I ever see. We was married in de court-house, an dat be a mighty happy day for me. Mos folks dem days got married by layin a broom on de floor an jumpin over it. Dat seals de marriage, an at de same time brings em good luck. "Ya see brooms keeps hants away. When mean folks dies, de old debbil sometimes doan want em down dere in da bad place, so he makes witches out of em, an sends em back. One thing bout witches, dey gotta count everthing fore dey can git acrosst it. You put a broom acrosst your door at night an old witches gotta count ever straw in dat broom fore she can come in. "Some folks can jes nachly see hants bettern others. Teeny, my gal can. I reckon das cause she been borned wid a veil—you know, a caul, sumpum what be over some babies' faces when dey is borned. Folks borned wid a caul can see sperrits, an tell whas gonna happen fore it comes true.

Now, Miss Sue, take up. I jes' like to talk to you, honey 'bout dem days ob slavery; 'cause you look like you wan'ta hear all 'bout 'em. All 'bout de ol' rebels; an' dem niggers who left wid de Yankees an' were sat free, but, poor things, dey had no place to go after dey got freed. Baby, all us wuz helpless an' ain't had nothin'. I wuz free a long time 'fo' I knew it. My Mistess still hired me out, 'til one day in talkin' to de woman she hired me to, she, "God bless her soul", she told me, "Fannie yo' are free, an' I don't have to pay your Master for you now." You stay with me. She didn't give me no money, but let me stay there an' work for vitals an' clothes 'cause I ain't had no where to go. Jesus, Jesus, God help us! Um, Um, Um! You Chillun don't know. I didn't say nothin' when she wuz tellin' me, but done 'cided to leave her an' go back to the white folks dat fus own me. I plan' to 'tend a big dance. Let me see, I think it wuz on a Thursday night. Some how it tooken got out, you know how gals will talk an' it got to ol' Bil Duffeys ears (ol' dog!) an', baby do you know, mind you 'twont slavery time, but de 'oman got so mad cause I runned away from her dat she get a whole passel of 'em out looking for me. Dar wuz a boy, who heard 'em talkin' an' sayin' dey wuz goin' to kill me if I were found. I will never forget dis boy com' up to me while I wuz dancin' wid another man an' sed, "nobody knowes where you ar', Miss Moore, dey is lookin' fer you, an' is gwine kill you, so yo' come on wid me." Have mercy, have mercy my Lord, honey, you kin jes 'magin' my feelin' fer a minute. I couldn't move. You know de gals an' boys all got 'round me an' told me to go wid Squreball, dat he would show me de way to my old Mistess house. Out we took, an' we ran one straight mile up de road, den through de woods, den we had to go through a straw field. Dat field seem' like three miles. After den, we met another skit of woods. Miss Sue, baby my eyes, (ha! ha! ha!) wuz bucked an' too if it is setch a thin' as being so scared yo' hair stand on yo' head, I know, mine did. An' dat wasn't all, dat boy an' me puffed an' sweated like bulls. Was feared to stop, cause we might have been tracked. At last we neared de house an' I started throwin' rocks on de porch. Child I look an' heard dat white 'oman when she hit dat floor, bouncin' out dat bed she mus' felt dat I wuz comin' back to her. She called all de men an' had 'em throw a rope to me an' day drawed me up a piece to de window, den I held my arms up an' dey snatched me in. Honey, Squreball fled to de woods. I ain't never heard nothin' 'bout him. An' do you know, I didn't leave day 'oman's house no more for fifteen years?

"I was born right here and was about four years old at de time of de war. We was owned by the Hills at Farmington. My mother plowed in the fields, and hauled wood in de snow. We had no shoes and made tracks of blood in de snow. Us little tots had to go all over de field and pick up feathers. De mistress would go along with a stick and say, 'Here is another feather to pick up.' "When de soldiers came we had a good meal. De soldiers had on blue coats, and when dey came we would be switching off de flies with a long pole with paper on the end. De soldiers would then say 'We don' need that, come on and eat with us.' "We wore linsey dresses and all slept together and were bound to keep warm. When de war was over we was free to go but de only thing we had was a few rags. So we walked to Valle Mines, twenty-four miles north in Jefferson County. We walked it twice 'cause we would carry a few rags a little piece and den go back after de rest. "At Valle Mines we could make a little money digging ore and selling it to de store. De mines were on de surface and mother dug in de mines. After we had gone to Valle Mines, Overton Hill, de son of de Hills, came up dere and asked mother where she had hid de money and silver during de war. She told him but after three weeks he came back in a buggy and took mother with him to de plantation and she showed Overton where to dig close to a cedar tree to find de money and silver."

"Marse Glenn had 64 slaves. On Sat'day night, de darkies would have a little fun on de side. A way off from de big house, down in de pastur' dar wuz about de bigges' gully what I is ebber seed. Dat wuz de place whar us collected mos' ev'ry Sa'day night fer our lil' mite o' fun frum de white folks hearin'. Sometime it wuz so dark dat you could not see de fingers on yo' han' when you would raise it fo' your face. Dem wuz sho' schreechy nights; de schreechiest what I is ever witnessed, in all o' my born natu'al days. Den of cose, dar wuz de moonlight nights when a darky could see; den he see too much. De pastur' wuz big and de trees made dark spots in it on de brightest nights. All kind o' varmints tuck and hollered at ye as ye being gwine along to reach dat gully. Cose us would go in droves sometime, and den us would go alone to de gully sometime. When us started together, look like us would git parted 'fo we reach de gully all together. One of us see som'tin and take to runnin'. Maybe de other darkies in de drove, de wouldn't see nothin' jes den. Dats zactly how it is wid de spirits. De mout (might) sho de'self to you and not to me. De acts raal queer all de way round. Dey can take a notion to scare de daylights outtin you when you is wid a gang; or dey kin scare de whole gang; den, on de other hand, dey kin sho de'self off to jes two or three. It ain't never no knowin' as to how and when dem things is gwine to come in your path right fo your very eyes; specially when you is partakin' in some raal dark secret whar you is planned to act raal sof' and quiet like all de way through. "Dem things bees light on dark nights; de shines de'self jes like dese 'lectric lights does out dar in dat street ever' night, 'cept dey is a scaird waary light dat dey shines wid. On light nights, I is seed dem look, furs dark like a tree shad'er; den dey gits raal scairy white. T'aint no use fer white folks to low dat it ain't no haints, an' grievements dat follows ye all around, kaise I is done had to many 'spriences wid dem. Den dare is dese young niggers what ain't fit to be called darkies, dat tries to ac' eddicated, and says dat it ain't any spe'rits dat walks de earth. When dey lows dat to me, I rolls my old eyes at dem an' axes dem how comes dey runs so fas' through de woods at night. Yes sirree, dem fool niggers sees dem jes as I does. Raaly de white folks doesn't have eyes fer sech as we darkies does; but dey bees dare jes de same.

On June 8, 1883, Rev. Elisha Green was traveling by train from Maysville to Paris, Kentucky. At Millersburg, about forty students from the Millersburg Female College crowded onto the train, accompanied by their music teacher, Frank L. Bristow, and the college president, George T. Gould. Gould grabbed the reverend by the shoulder and ordered him to give up his seat. When Green refused, Bristow and Gould assaulted him until the conductor intervened and ordered the assailants to stop or he would throw them off of the train. Friends advised Green to take legal action, and he did, winning his case against his assailants in March 1884, though with only token compensation. The significance of this case lies not only in the prevailing justice of the 1800s, but also in the fact that a black man won a lawsuit against two white men. In The Assault on Elisha Green: Race and Religion in a Kentucky Community, historian Randolph Paul Runyon recounts one man's pursuit of justice over violence and racism in the nineteenth century. He tells the story of Green's life and follows the network of relationships that led to the event of the assault. Tracing these three men's lives brings the reader from the slavery era to the eve of the First World War, from Kentucky to New Mexico, from Covington to the Kentucky River Palisades, with particular focus on Mason and Bourbon Counties. In this engagingly written tale, Runyon masterfully interweaves background information with the immediacy of the harrowing attack and its aftermath, revealing the true character of the primary actors and the racial tensions unique to a border state.

The evolving technology of the looking glass -- First glimpses : mirrors in seventeenth-century New England -- Looking glass ownership in early America -- Reliable mirrors and troubling visions : nineteenth-century white -- Understandings of sight -- Fashioning whiteness -- Mirrors in black and red -- Epilogue

This important illustrated social history of slavery tells what life was like for bond servants in Florida from 1821 to 1865, offering new insights from the perspective of both slave and master. Starting with an overview of the institution as it evolved during the Spanish and English periods, Larry E. Rivers looks in detail and in depth at the slave experience, noting the characteristics of slavery in the Middle Florida plantation belt (the more traditional slave-based, cotton-growing economy and society) as distinct from East and West Florida (which maintained some attitudes and traditions of Spain). He examines the slave family, religion, resistance activity, slaves’ participation in the Civil War, and their social interactions with whites, Indians, other slaves, and masters. Rivers also provides a dramatic account of the hundreds of armed free blacks and runaways among the Seminole, Creek, and Mikasuki Indians on the peninsula, whose presence created tensions leading to the great slave rebellion, the Second Seminole War (1835-42). Slavery in Florida is built upon painstaking research into virtually every source available on the subject--a wealth of historic documents, personal papers, slave testimonies, and census and newspaper reports. This serious critical work strikes a balance between the factual and the interpretive. It will be significant to all readers interested in slavery, the Civil War, the African American experience, and Florida and southern U.S. history, and it could serve as a comprehensive resource for secondary school teachers and students.

"Well-crafted and in-depth, They Dared to Dream has moved women, their experiences, and their contributions to the forefront of Florida's history and heritage. This is a long-overdue and much-needed turning point in understanding our state's past and present."--Canter Brown Jr., coeditor of The Varieties of Women's Experiences "Represents a leap forward in the study of Florida history. Weatherford has done an outstanding job of researching and writing about Florida women, from paupers to queens, elevating their status to a level of equality within the overall story of Florida."--Rodney Kite-Powell, Saunders Foundation Curator of History at the Tampa Bay History Center and editor of Tampa Bay History "Exhaustively researched, well written, and engaging, They Dared to Dream breaks new ground in the study of Florida. Doris Weatherford's ambitious history of women in Florida will be widely read and discussed. From Princess Ulele to Alex Sink, from the role of criollas in Colonial St. Augustine to the struggles of women in the twenty-first century, Weatherford chronicles their lives in the Sunshine State."--Gary Mormino, author of Land of Sunshine, State of Dreams In this extensive portrayal of Florida's guiding matriarchs, Doris Weatherford highlights the myriad contributions women have made throughout Florida's history. From the select few who traveled with Ponce de Leon to the state's first female mayor Marion H. O’Brien, Weatherford sheds light on the roles these pioneering women played in the shaping of the Sunshine State. They Dared to Dream reveals the lifestyles and achievements of women throughout landmark moments in history, including Native civilizations before the arrival of European colonists; early Spanish, British, and French exploration, the Civil War era, Reconstruction, the early twentieth century, and the population explosions post-World War II. Featuring often-celebrated personalities--including Mary Martha Reid, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton--alongside the lesser-known lives of Princess Murat, lighthouse keeper Barbara Mabrity, Florida Memorial College founder Sarah Ann Blocker, and others--this pivotal examination of Florida's female agents of change draws attention to women's instrumental roles in the historical events that defined the Sunshine State. From prehistoric times to the space age, the female half of the population has made giant, but too often unacknowledged, contributions to Florida history. Countless women have overcome great obstacles and yet are often left out of historical accounts. They Dared to Dream aims to fill in some of these gaps by celebrating the many successes women have made. Because without women, there is no history--nor any future. Doris Weatherford is the author of A History of the American Suffragist Movement and other reference guides on American women’s history. The Florida Commission on the Status of Women Foundation, Inc., is dedicated to empowering women and girls in our state by supporting educational, entrepreneurial and self sufficiency programs and initiatives through grants, mentoring, and other opportunities. The FCSW Foundation supports the work and programs of the Florida Commission on the Status of Women, including the Florida Women's Hall of Fame. The Florida Commission on the Status of Women Foundation, Inc. dedicates this book to: the women of the past who struggled to achieve gender equality and showed the path, the women of the present who continue with the same goal, and the women of the future who will carry the baton and make us proud.--Dr. Mona Jain Acknowledgments, by the Florida Commission on the Status of Women Foundation, Inc The Florida women’s history book project could not have been completed without the cooperation and support of many people. To thank all of them who made it possible would be nearly impossible. We would, however, like to express our sincere appreciation to those who have helped take this endeavor "from dream to reality." First and foremost, we are indebted forever to our nine founding members as well as to the generous donors to the History Book Project. Next, our thanks go to the charter members: Nancy Acevedo, Claudia Kirk Barto, Susanne Hebert, Laura McLeod, Dr. Jeanne O’Kon, Laurie Pizzo, Blanca Bichara, Dr. Mona Jain, Carrie Lee, and Kathleen Passidomo, Esq., who freely gave their time and talents. Our heartfelt thanks to Kelly Sciba and Michele Manning, who spent many, many hours of their own time to see that the project was moving forward smoothly. Special mention is also made here for the assistance given by Kimberly Mehr and Veronica Vasquez. We gratefully acknowledge Doris Weatherford for writing this comprehensive Florida women’s history book. We are also grateful to the University Press of Florida for publishing the book as well as for valuable editorial help and comments. Our special thanks to each and every one who played a part in discovering the stories behind the women that makes them unique and trailblazers. These notable women have created history. We are also thankful to many women and men for their well wishes and encouragement in order to fill a void in the history of the Sunshine State. Together we empower each other. Last but not least the foundation members offer our deepest sense of appreciation to our families for believing in us as well as for their unwavering moral support. To all others we have omitted inadvertently, please accept our sincere apologies and thanks. According to the old saying, "To err is human and to forgive is divine." Florida Commission on the Status of Women Foundation, Inc. Founding Members, "Visionaries" Blanca C. Bichara, Miami Cheryl Holley, Tampa Dr. Anila Jain, Bradenton-Sarasota Dr. Mona Jain, Bradenton-Sarasota Carrie E. Lee, Gainesville Marie Flore Lindor-Latortue, Miami Janet Mabry, Gulf Breeze Representative Kathleen Passidomo, Esq., Naples Debbie Sembler, Pinellas Park Donors, from "Vision" to "Reality" This Florida Women’s History Book Project has been made possible due to the generosity of the following: Hawa Allarakhia, Bradenton Blanca C. and Ricardo Bichara, Miami Eugenia Price Joyce Blackburn Foundation Brighthouse Networks of Manatee County for Rose Carlson, Bradenton Leah Brown, Bradenton Betty Chambliss, Bradenton LaDonna Cloud, Sarasota Community Foundation of Tampa Bay for Alex Sink, CFO Representative Faye Culp, Tampa Lynn and Dr. Arthur Guilford, Sarasota Gini Hyman, Sarasota Dr. Mona and Kailash Jain, Bradenton-Sarasota Kappa Delta Foundation, Inc. for Dr. Anila Jain, Chair, Bradenton-Sarasota Carrie E. and Dennis Lee, Gainesville Manatee and Sarasota Commissions on the Status of Women Miami-Dade Commission for Women Dorothy Middleton, Bradenton JoAnn Morgan, Melbourne Representative Kathleen Passidomo, Esq., Naples Mary Runnells, Bradenton Linda Simmons, Tampa St. Petersburg Times Fund (Lynda Keever) Mariamma and Dr. George Thomas, Bradenton University of South Florida for Dr. Judy Genshaft, President Amy VanDell, Bradenton Anne Voss, Tampa Renee Warmak, Tampa Senator Marlene Woodson-Howard, Bradenton

The only mention of Jude in Nova Scotia’s official history relates to her death: a slave-owning family was brought to trial for her murder in 1801. They were acquitted despite overwhelming evidence that they were guilty. Sharon Robart-Johnson pays tribute to such archival glimpses of enslaved people by re-creating the fullness of sisters Jude and Diana’s survival, emphasizing their joys alongside their hardship. She stories their movements through the U.S. to Nova Scotia, Canada, with the arrival of the United Empire Loyalists in 1783. As a child, Jude is sold away and then, by a lucky turn of fate, reunited with her fiercely loving family. Jude’s experiences harden her into a rebel who resists injustice without heeding consequences, and after her death, Diana is left alone to deal with racist and sexual violence. Through Robart-Johnson’s research, we experience nineteenth-century Nova Scotia, when political debates about abolishing slavery were just beginning to emerge. Through Robart-Johnson’s creativity, we enter the historical fiction of Jude and Diana and their strong familial bonds, each character developed with nuance and care. While chronicling the cruelty they endured, Robart-Johnson’s storytelling powerfully honours their humour, strength, and shining dignity.