Quintin Boldin

Quintin Boldin , eighty-six, was born a slave in 1852, he believes. Be doesn't remember where he was born, and to whom he belonged. He says he has never celebrated a birthday, because he never did know on which day he was born. Quintin's mother was Teena Boldin , who was a cook and field hand for several masters. A Mr. Boldin owned her at one time, he believes. Teena had nine children, five boys and four girls. Quintin's father was Quintin Boldin . Quintin believes he was thirty years old when he was married to Molly Cleveland . They had no children. At that time he worked in the lime kilns and quarry, which were located in the cedar brakes west of Austin. He owns his own shanty in these cedar brakes, and receives a monthly pension of twelve dollars from the state.

His story: "She's been dead so long ago, mama has, dat I kain't even remembah when it was. I know dat I was standin' by her bed, when she died. She had dropsy. Befo' she died she told us dat she wanted us to be good chillun. Dem was de last words dat I remembah. I had come into de room, and all of de rest of 'em was cryin'. Den I stood by mama's bed and her breath was leavin' her den she was dead. "Mama had been sich a good worker. She could pick four or five hunnert pounds of cotton a day. Durin' slavery she was most a field hand. But mama, whose name was Teena Boldin , was also a good cook. After slavery she cooked, washed and ironed fo' many a fambly. One was de Frank Brown fambly, and he worked in de Travis Courthouse. "I do think dat mama was bawn somewheres up in East Texas. She was de slave of Mawster Quintin Boldin , I believe. Mama had nine chillun. Dere was, let me see, David , Lee , Sherman , Dick and me. Den dere was Ella , Clara , and dere was Julia and Lizzie . I think dat two girls and one boy is still livin' somewheres. I ain't sure 'cause I ain't heard f'om 'em in a long time. "Quintin Boldin was papa's name. Papa was jes' a field hand in slavery time. After slavery papa cooked fo' a Jedge Robinson . He nussed near all of dem Robinsons . He died sometime after mama died. "My name is Quintin Boldin . I reckon I'm about eighty-six years old. I don't know jes' how old I am. I don't celebrate no birthdays, 'cause I don't know when it is. I believe dat I heard dat somehow mama was over in Louisiana fo' awhile and dat I was bawn dere  "Durin' slavery time de white folks treated us all right, fur as I kin recollect. When I was a boy, I had to do field work. I didn't have to do no certain task a day 'cause I'd go ahead and do my work. I was jes' a boy but I could pick my three and four hunnert pounds of cotton a day. We'd pick wid baskets and pocket-sacks. De pocket-sacks was used by de young folks. "I don't remembah de day when I was set free. I jes' kin recollect how one day mama told me dat I was free. "After slavery me and de folks done any kind of work dat come to hand. I know dat we got paid fo' our work. I don't know how much, 'cause papa took all of de money. "Many was de time dat I'd ask papa to give me fo' bits 'cause I wanted to buy some candy and tobacco. "He'd give me dat much and den he'd say, 'Now fo' de other money dat yo'-all made, I'se goin' to buy yo' some boots and clothes.' "But I sure was hongry. A white man always went around town sellin' dem good fineycopes, dey was lak pies, with a lot of sugar and stuff on 'em. Dey sure was good, and I was hongry. "'Wanta buy a fineycope today?' de man asked us. "Papa looked at me and asked me, 'Now, do yo'-all want dem boots, or do yo'-all want some fineycopes?' "'Papa I want de fineycope,' I said "Den when I et 'em I wanted my boots. Big like I was, I musta been over sixteen, papa whooped me right on de street in Austin. So I got my fineycopes and boots and a good whoopin'. "I think dat I was about thutty years old when I got married to Molly Cleveland . She was a cook when I married her. We never had no chillun a-tall. Me and Molly has don disband, but I think dat she is still livin'. "When I got married I worked in de lime kilns and rock quarry. Dey was out in de cedar brush, jes' west of my place here. I helped break up big rocks and dey was den hauled in a two-wheel cart to de kilns. A hoss pulled de cart and de small rocks was dumped out backward. At one time dere was four lime kilns out dere. Many was de time dat I had to fire de kilns.  "Old man P. C. Taylor , he's done cashed in now, had a one story roomin' house out dere fo' de workers dat wanted to stay dere. "I think dat we got about a dollah and a quarter a day fo' our work. Dat was big wages in dem days, about forty years ago.  "Even in de winter time, and we sure had de cold winters at dat time, it was so hot at de lime kilns, dat yo' could sleep on a blanket on de floor about twenty-five feet away, and it would still be wahm. Dere was times when dem kilns was worked day and night. Dere was lime dust all around us but it looked to me lak it was healthy fo' us. Of course, when it got wet it would of burned yo'. One day a wagonload of dat lime was caught in de rain, and de wagon burned up. De feller dat was drivin' it got his shovel out and tried to shovel out de burnin' paht to save his wagon. "Plenty of dat lime was sold in dem days. Sometimes six wagon loads was sold f'om each kiln in a day. Dere was times when I drove a wagon out of town, and I wouldn't git back till midnight. To come back, all I had to do was give dem four mules dere way and dey would know how to come back. "One day another one of our bosses, Mr. Walsh , bought four barrels of wine. Dat wine was shipped all de way f'om California, and some of it was nine years old. When yo' drank it it sure made you feel lak fightin'. "One time dat old Irishman Walsh was so drunk dat he fell into a cistern. "'Hey,' he hollered, 'throw me a rope, I wanta put it around my horns.' "Dat Irishman never had no horns, but he sure seemed to lak dat cool water in de cistern durin' de summer. He was jes' enjoyin' hissef, dat's all. "Other times he would yell at us, 'Hey did yo' go down wid Scotty ?' "Dere was somebody in de Civil War dat must of beat him up; and when we'd say yes, we sure had a fight on our hands. "Dat's been over forty years ago now dat dem kilns has closed down. Dere is a lahge cave on de old Walsh place and dey say dat it runs all de way to Congress Avenue, in Austin. Walsh's foreman used to store his powder in dere. Dat cave was opened at one time, so people could go into it, but den dey had to close it 'cause it was too dangerous. "Once after slavery I went to school fo' about two months. Dat was right here in Austin. Me and a gal got to lovin' and fightin' and her brothaw jumped me. Teachah den fired me. Den I come home and papa fired me, wid a big brogan shoe. Dat was de last time dat I went to school, but it wasn't de last time dat I got a whoopin'. One day papa whooped me fo' runnin' away, he put my head between his legs, and den he stahted in on me. I sure did git some whoopin's. Only two months in school and I kain't read or write to dis day. Folks has to read de paper to me."