Texas Slave Narrative
Annie Norton
Annie Norton , North Heights Addition, Amarillo, Texas. Age 84. Lives with her grand daughter. Born somewhere in Georgia to slave parents belonging to a Cavanaugh family. Mrs. Norton said, when first approached, she Couldn' remember nothin. Later, however, she talked at length of her childhood as a slave, but in such a low and indistinct voice that it was difficult to understand her. She, like many of her kind, is gifted in gesture and pantomime when talking; and much of the force of her conversation is lost unless one sees her as she talks. My father's name was Sampson Hunter an' mother's name was Charity Hunter . My little sister's name was Laura ; and I had two brothers, Bob and Sampson . My father was mostly a driver he drove a wagon an' hauled stuff. He use' to make hickory chairs an' baskets, too, an' sell 'em. My mother cooked and worked in the fiel's too. Our Massa an' Missus was good to us. Dey never 'lowed slaves to be beat even if dey hired dem out. De fust work I ever done was I whip' de baby. It was Missus's baby, an' jus' kep' cryin' an' I whip' it. She catch me an' say she gonna whip me for whippin' de baby, but she never did. Slaves didn' marry. No. Dey jus' took up. If two cullud folks decide dey like each other, dey jus' start livin' together. Dey jump de broomstick.
I'll say dey whipped slaves! Sometimes dey run away. I had two aunties killed. One fought back when dey start to whip her. My mammy say to her, 'You tell dem you ain' done nothin' to git a whippin' for.' She start to take her baby an' go away, and dey shot her an' took her baby an' turn it over to an ole mammy to raise. Sometimes it wuld get started aroun' that a certain niggah was a so-an'so, an' nex' thing you know he be dead. You see these holes in my ears? A white man come an' work on de plantation for awhile. He was stealin' an' eatin' chickens an' eggs. Me an' some mo' chillun tole on him. He catch us away from de house one day an' lock us up in de smokehouse an' take a big needle an' punch holes in our ears an' say, 'Let that learn you not to talk,' an' he run away. I don' remember where it hurt or not when he punched holes in my ears, but I yell' anyhow jes' as loud as I can. For a long time after dat, I run ever' time I see a white man comin'. He say to Missus he goin' kill us, an' ever' time she see a white man comin', she say, 'Git under dis po'ch,' an' we hide till he go 'way. My little sister Laura, she stutter. She don' outgrow it till she about eighteen. Folks use' to like to hear her talk. Me an' Laura play all time with Miss Della -- she our Missus's daughter. One time a white woman come to visit for a long time on de plantation. She always set outside under a window. We didn' like her, an' one day we got hot water an' pour it out de window on her head. She git mad an' say to ole Missus, 'Why don' you whip dem chillun? Dey ruin my hair an' I have to wash it.' Missus say she don' know which one us done it. This woman say she don' want Missus to let me use the scissors - say I ruin 'em. Missus say I don' cut nothin' with 'em but paper.
When 'Mancipation come, we don' know what dey mean when dey say we free. We jus' stay home an' work. White folks, some of 'em would kill de cullud folks when dey say dey free. Dey really did thin out de cullud folks den. I had thirteen chillun an' I don' know how I don' have no idea how many grand chillun and great grand chillun. One thing I remember 'bout when I little. My mammy would keep me with her when she cookin' in de kitchen. I was always askin' her for bread. She use' to wait till dey wasn' no white folks 'round, den she give me bread. Miss Della an' me meet after we was married. She have one chile an' I have two. We set aroun' an' eat an' talk all day till three o'clock in de morning. We cry an' cry when we part, an' never met each other no mo'. I hear years ago dat she dead. I cry all day when I hear it. I cooked an' et lots of 'possums in my life. Even now white folks brings 'possums to me an' pay me $1.00 and $1.50 to cook 'em. Folks ain' like dey use' to be. I remember many a ole cullud mammy back in slave days dat raise all de chillun, black or white, dey bring her. Dem white chillun love dem ole cullud mothers much as dey white ones. Dese days ever'body have to be paid for doin' any li'l ole thing. White chillun use' to say, 'It don' make no difference to me if you's black. How I know? Maybe you's sunburned.' De white folks ain' whut dey use' to be - de cullud folks ain' whut dey use' to be.
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