Texas Slave Narratives

Texas Slave Narrative

  Salah Berliner
Slave Owner

Sarah L. Johnson Berliner , 97, was raised on a plantation owned by her father, Dr. Johnson , located in the N.W. corner of Nacogdoches Co. and extending into Cherokee co., Tex. Dr. Johnson came to this uncleared country bankrupt, and after clearing away some acreage established the plantation. Beginning with two slaves, he owned 65 by the close of the Civil War. Being an adept surgeon, Dr. Johnson recuperated his fortune. He traveled extensively taking Sarah with him; and on one of his trips to Washington, D.C., Sarah was introduced to Ex-President John Quincy Adams who, upon request, wrote in her autograph album, over his signature, a beautiful poem. The album has remained in her possession, and is one of her most treasured belongings. When the Civil War began, Dr. Johnson threw his entire resources to the Confederate Army. Sarah presented flags to two companies while her father was a staff surgeon in Tolliver's regiment, in Sibley's Army. At the close of the war, her mother, and other neighboring women, fed the homeward bound soldiers passing their plantation. Bankrupt again, Dr. Johnson moved his family to Fort Worth, Tex., where the family lived through the dark days of reconstruction, and where she continued to live until she moved to the Home for Aged Masons, about 12 mi. from Fort Worth, Aug. 3, 1937. Her story:

"So you want to know about Slavery Time? Well, well, I believe I'm in a mighty good position to tell you a good deal about those times, being they were the happiest days of my life. Now, I'm bound to forget a whole lot of it, because I'm an old woman. There was some paper in San Antonio, not long ago, that traced my history 'way back; and they printed a whole lot about me, saying that I was the oldest Eastern Star and Rebecca in the world. I don't know what that's good for, but it's something to think about. "I don't recollect the place I was born, but I do know that my daddy, the best daddy ever was, took his family to Nacogdoches county when I was about four years old. Some kind of a money business had broke him, and he had to start a plantation in a country that had never been worked. The trees and all were up just like they'd always been, and they had to be cut down before any crops could be planted. "I'm telling you this from the things my daddy recounted to me, since I was too young to recollect much about it. He said that he only had two niggers to start work with, old Sam and Isaac . I well remember them; they were the blackest things I ever saw, but the best to me that ever was. They'd do anything for me if I asked them, and many's the thing they did without me ever asking for it. For instance: they always had me a good swing, and built me several small log houses to play house in. Of course, that was after I'd gotten old enough to appreciate such things, and there were other niggers on the place to do their work while they fixed for me."Now, my father was a good surgeon and had lots of people come for miles to see him. He was always called 'Dr. Johnson '; and he sometimes took trips to Washington, D.C., and other places."I can't give you the exact dates when he acquired the other niggers on the place, but before the end of the Civil War we had 65 of them on our place; and there were two and a half leagues of land, located in the northwestern corner of Nacogdoches county and extending over into Cherokee county."One of the things I can recollect is the home-made cotton compress, where the niggers toted the cotton up a ladder and dumped it in a big box. I was never allowed to stay around the compress, so I can't tell you any more about it than that. Another thing we had was a hand-mill on a post, to grind corn into meal. Our housekeepers, Harriet and Adline , attended to the grinding for us, but the niggers all did their own grinding as they needed it."Of course, the food proposition was a big one for so many people, but it was well handled; and everyone had a plenty to eat, since nearly everything was either grown or made on the place. Nigger Jim was in charge of the commissary, and he doled out the rations to the niggers as needed. Jim was an unusual nigger; he was taught to read and write before father bought him, somewhere in Alabama. His ability to read and write cost father quite a bit extra, but it was worth it since he was able to put Jim in charge of the commissary. Jim kept the records on everything each nigger family got. They were allowed to get anything they wanted, at any time, provided it was a reasonable request. This made our place one of the most unusual in the country, and several big Eastern newspapers of that time wrote articles that father gave them while in the East.   "All of the neighboring plantations were good to their niggers in every way, but they didn't handle the food proposition like we did. They either had a central cook shack where all the help ate, or they doled out so much each week. On our place, the help got what they wanted at any reasonable time just by going to the commissary and asking for what they wanted. "Another thing, the harder working niggers were allowed to have their own hogs, cows, and chickens. Father did this to encourage the slow ones to make better hands of themselves. All in all, our niggers got the best treatment possible while in slavery. Then, too, our niggers didn't want freedom, because they were treated so well and they knew it. Freedom was forced on them by a squad of Union soldiers, who came to our place and told them that the proper thing for them to do was to get out for themselves; and, not realizing what rustling for themselves meant, they left. Most of them came back, but we weren't able to care for them; so they had to keep moving 'til they found a place to work. "On one of my father's trips back East, he took me to Washington, D.C. I went everywhere he did, so I got to meet some famous men in those days. One day, at a business conference, my father introduced me around to the men. I always carried an album with me, to have friends I made to write something in it. One of the men present at this conference was named Adams . I passed it to him and he wrote the following poem. Here it is in the album:

"'Lady, to me, thou art a sprite
A vision of the fancy's

Thy form shall never bless my sight
Unless by the veriest chances
But - hast thou brother - loves - friend
Whose soul is wrapt in thee
The vow to Heaven that he shall send
O, durn it - sent by me.
John Quincy Adams
Washington--23rd April, 1832'

"Now, I can't explain about that date. I know it's wrong, because it was written along in '45, but I do know that the man I thought was the Ex-President, and to whom I was introduced, wrote just what you see. Might have been that the men were discussing something that happend in '32, who knows? I do know that nobody noticed the date much 'til years afterwards. Then, when it was too late, the date was discovered to be wrong. Never mind, it satisfies me, and it's my book that he wrote it in, and that's good enough for me. "The time of my life that stands out the most was along when the war was about to be declared, and when it was declared. I can well recollect when, for weeks and weeks, men gathered at our house about twice a week, to begin with; then, as the time grew closer, they gathered everytime anybody found out anything new. Our sources of news were the newspapers from New Orleans, and other big cities, and men who took a trip out, then brought back all they heard. "I well recollect how the plantation men were of the firm opinion that the South would win the war without too much trouble. They didn't believe that the North could hire enough foreigners to whip the South, much less do it by themselves. Ah, those were stirring times. The white men didn't talk the situation around where the niggers could hear; but, knowing that the nigger is a natural news ferret, and the biggest gossiper that ever was, they knew that everything they said finally reached the niggers' ears. The one thing about it was that very few niggers in the whole South ever let on that they knew anything about it all. They just kept their mouths shut, and their eyes and ears open. "I've often took a walk outside the house; and if I went out one door and came in another, I'd always see a form slipping away through the crepe myrtle hedge we had around the house. I knew what was up, and it never crossed my mind as to whether it was a thief or not. Well, we never had but mighty little trouble with thieves, in those days, because there was a plenty of everything. "Finally came the day when the neighborhood men were to sign up to fight. My father took a big part in everything, and he helped everywhere to get the work going good. Then, he was assigned as a staff surgeon to Tolliver's regiment, in Sibley's Army of Virginia. "I presented a flag to Capt. Tullous ' company at Sumpter, in Trinity county, and one to Howard Ballinger's company, which was the second made up at Sumpter, Tex. I don't have the words I used at the first two presentations, but I preserved the third in my album. Here it is. I said: "'The stars and stripes represent the States and their fidelity to each other, and to all treaty stipulations. The red and white bars indicate our devotion to the arts of civilization, and peace, and our ability to maintain our rights in war. I present you this flag, the production of a moment and of scant means, confidently believing you will never suffer it's folds to trail in the dust, nor surrender to the foe. In advance of the hardships, privations, and trials of your campaign, accept the assurance of our prayers, our sympathies, and our tears--Prayer for your success, sympathy for your sufferings, and tears for your misfortunes. In the hour of battle, may this flag be conspicuous, and remembering your homes, your wives, little ones, and your sweethearts, strike the enemy a most deadly blow.'Strike 'til the last armed man expires! Strike for your alter and your fires! Strike for the green graves of your sires!
Strike for God and your native land!' "Lawd! I thought I was some guns, then!

"After the boys all left, the women, and all on the plantations, went to work in the fields and anywhere the men formerly were used. My mother took charge of the place and used Jim as the overseer. My father's last words to my mother were to send the army everything we didn't have to have to keep going. The women that didn't go into the fields made socks for the soldiers. I carded cotton rolls so fast that I kept the spindles going. One of the men in the field that I kept supplied with socks was T.P. Sanford , a lieutenant in Burnett's company. One of his buddies sent me this, and I fixed it into my album. In a separate sheet, his buddy told me that T.P . wrote this while lying on the battlefield at Sharpsburg, Va., mortally wounded. He laid there for eight days without medical attention, then died. I did have a button from his coat, too, but it's misplaced somewhere. Here, I want you to read it

"'I go the red battlefield
To stand by my brother and yours,
Nor return 'til freedom has sealed
With blood that generously pours
From the hearts of her own gallant band
The blest fate of our sunny land'
'I go- but fair friend, 'tis of thee
My thoughts shall most frequently be,

Though wildly my memories roam
Through the mystical realms of the past-
Around thy name, they cluster at last.'
'I go- and I bid thee farewell.
May pleasures uncounted be thine-
May hope in thy heart ever dwell,
Thy brow with her garland entwine;
May the bright flowers bloom at thy feet,
And the joys, as clear waters, meet."

"Now, about the rest of the war, I guess our experiences were about the same as everybody else's that you've heard about. When the close of the war came, thousands of soldiers were muster out at Houston, and had to march back home a-foot. Our plantation was in the line of march for most of them, so all the ladies of the neighborhood gathered at our place and decided to feed all of them that came by. "We had a big, grassy lawn, with wide-spreading trees that shaded a big part of our yard. Long tables were set up in this yard, and the women set about to serve the food. Our niggers didn't know about freedom 'til after the soldiers got past our place, then they were told. However, as I said before, I don't believe they'd have left then, but the Union men told them it was best for them. "These soldiers, when they had walked from Houston to our place, all had big blisters on their feet. We had some extra fine soap that dad bought in Brownsville, Tex., and we gave each one a real thin slice of this soap to put on their blisters when they started out the next day. Those were tempestous days, while the soldiers were with us, because we had to keep going as long as we could stand up to it, to take care of them. We'd just fall into bed at night; and it seems like we'd never wake up in the mornings. "The niggers were faithful on through it all; but when they learned that they were free, they'd sing a song they had evidently known for sometime. It went like this: 'Marster went and set me free,' etc.
"Father couldn't get home for awhile after surrender; but, after reading about what a hard time we were having, he wrote us and suggested that we just throw up everything and go to Fort Worth, where I could go to a better school and all, so we did as he said. When we got to Fort Worth, there weren't but 220 families here. Everybody seemed to live on sweet potatoes, cornbread, and coffee. Our diet changed after dad got home, though, because he knew how to get out and make money. "About the first change we had was when dad let our wooden axled buggy go, and bought an iron axled, Studebaker surrey. Talk about stepping in high cotton! We did it. I thought that thing was the prettiest sight on earth, and used to keep it shiney and clean all the time. I was always dusting it off. The next step was to get me a pony to go to school on. I was surely proud of the little old pony. I had five or six girl friends who had ponies, and we'd all go a-riding over the countryside. One day, we'd ridden out towards Dallas, when Alice Barkley and four other girls came up upon the most gruesome sight I ever beheld. Six young men were hanging from the big oak tree that can be seen now at Dalworth. We found out, later, that there names were 'Record ', and were known as the 'Record Boys '. "Well, we didn't delay, none at all, even though there was a sign on the tree which read, 'Anybody bothering will share a like fate'. You see this old hatchet here? Well, I always kept a hatchet with me, wherever I went, just figuring on having to use one some day. It don't hurt none to go prepared for trouble. I climbed up in that tree and cut those fellows down. Then we buried them, digging their graves with this same hatchet. It was slow work, but it had to be done, and we knew no one else would bother to bury them. "You talk about a hullaballoo! Folks sure raised it. Judge A.B. Norton offered a $500.00 reward for any information leading to the arrest of the parties that cut the boys down; and there were State militia, with home guards running around all over creation. Rumor got out that the boys were Confederate spies, but I guess they just didn't kow-tow to the Northern men, and it made 'em mad. I'll always believe that daddy suspected my part in it, but he never said a word and the trouble just died out. "Along about this time, I got to sparking the boys. One of them that I chased around with was Little Eph Dagett . One day, we were hunting and chasing rabbits, in a wagon. We got after one and the wagon struck a rut, knocking Little Eph out on the ground. When I got the wagon stopped, and looked at him, I found that he'd broken a leg. Since my dad was a surgeon, and I was interested in things like that, I tore my skirt up, made bandages, took the splints out of my bonnet, and fixed him up right. You know, the old time bonnets had wooden splints in them, to hold them out straight. Nowadays, the women use starch. After I got Little Eph fixed up, I raced that team back to Fort Worth and took him to the Daggett family's regular doctor. Do you know, that doctor wouldn't touch the job I'd done, saying that it was already fixed up as good as he could fix it? Not only that, but the break healed up in such a way that Little Eph could walk with but the slightest limp; and, unless you knew about the break, you'd never suspect it. Little Eph later entered the livestock business, and created one of the biggest companies in the Southwest."I mention these things to you for one purpose, and that is to show you that the plantation women weren't the ladies history would have you believe they were. They were ladies in their place; but when action was needed, they jumped into the middle of everything. There were a good many women that operated plantations by themselves, before the war. During the war, there were so few white men in the country that it was kind of dangerous, but the women never flinched. Instead, they shouldered the burden, and took the place of their men, 'til the men could return. "And the slavery time niggers: they were, on the whole, a better race of people than the present day niggers. The slavery time niggers appreciated everything that was done for them, and expressed their appreciation. Today, the niggers have the best chance they'll ever have, and they misbehave all the time.




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