I's borned in grimes County, ninety years ago. Dat am long tine, child. It am heap of change since den. We couldn't see dem airplanes flyin' in de air and hear folks sing and talk a thousand miles away.  hen I's de young'un de fartheres' you could hear anybody am 'bout a quarter mile and den dey has to holler like a stuck hawg. My massa's name am John Mueldrew and he have a small plantation near Navasota, and 'bout twenty cullud folks, mos' of 'em 'lated to each other. There was seven chillen in mammy's family and I's de baby. Pappy dies when I's a year old, so I don't 'member him. Dey larnt me to weave cloth and sew, and my brudder am de shoemaker. My mammy tend de cows and Uncle John am de carpenter. De Lawd bless us with de good massa. Massa John die befo' de war and Missie Mary marries Massa Mike Hendricks , and he good, too. But him die and young Massa Jim Mueldrew take charge, and him jus' as kind as he pappy. Nother thing am change a heap. Dat buyin' all us wears and eats. Gosh 'mighty, when I's de gall, it am awful li'l us buys. Us raise nearly all to eat and wear, and has good home-raised meat and all de milk and butter us wants, and fruit and 'lasses and eggs and tea and coffee onct a week. Now I has to live on $7.00 a month and what place am I bes' off? Sho', on de massa's place.   We'uns has Sundays off and goes to church. Old men Buffington preaches to us after dinner. Dere am allus de party, on Saturday night on our place or some other place nearby. We gits de pass and it say what time to be home. It de rule, twelve o'clock. We dances de quadrille and sings and sich. De music am fiddles. But de big time and de happy time for all us cullud folks am Christmas De white folks has de tree in de big house and somethin' for all us. When Missie Mary holler, 'Santa Claus 'bout due,' us all gathers at de door and purty soon Santa 'pears with de red coat and long, white whiskers, in de room all lit with candles. He gives us each de sack of candy and a pair of shoes from de store. Massa never calls for work from Christmas to New Years, 'cept chores. Dat whole week am for cel'bration. So you sees how good massa am.

Young Massa Jim and Sam jines de army and I helps make dere army clothes. I's 'bout fourteen den. Lots of young men goes and lots never comes back. Sam gits his right leg shot off and dies after he come home, but Jim lives. Den surrender come and Massa Jim read de long paper. He say. 'I 'splain to yous. It de order from de gov'ment what make it 'gainst de law to keep yous slaves.' You should seed dem cullud folks. Dey jus' plumb shock. Dere faces long as dere arm, and so pester dey don't know what to say or do. Massa never say 'nother word and walks away. De cullud folks say, 'Where we'uns gwine live? What we'uns gwine do?' Dey frets all night. Nex' mornin' massa say. 'What you'uns gwine do?' Uncle John say. 'When does we have to go?' Den massa laughs hearty and say dey can stay for wages or work on harves. Well, sar, dere a bunch of happy cullud folks after dey larnt dey could stay and work, and my folks stays nearly dey could stay and work, and my folks stays nearly two years after 'mancipation. Den us all move to Navasota and hires out as cooks. I cooks till I's eighteen and den marries John Love . He am de carpenter and right off builds a house on land he buy from Dr. Terrell , he old massa. I has four chillen, and dey all dead now. He died in 1881, 'way from home. He's on his way to Austin and draps dead from some heart mis'ry. Dat am big sorrow in my life. There I is, with chillen to support, so I goes to cookin 'gain and we has some purty close times, but I does it and sends dem to school. I don't want dem to be like dey mammy, a unknowledge person. After eight years I marries Dave Reece and has two chillen. He am de Baptis' preacher and have a good church till he died, in 1923. Den soon after I gits de letter from old Missie Mary , and she am awful sick. She done write and visit me all dem years since I lef' de old plantation. I draps everything and goes to her and she am awful glad to see me. She begs me not to go back home, and one day she dies sudden-like with a heart mis'ry. She de bes' friend I ever has. I comes to Fort Worth in 1926 and lives with my daughter. I's paralyze in de right side and can't work no more, and it am fine I has de good daughter.

                                                    
Elsie Reece , 90, 5236 Fletcher St., Ft. Worth, Tex., was born a slave to Mr. John Mueldrew , who owned Elsie's parents with three slave families and a small farm in Grimes Co., Tex. Elsie's father died when she was an infant. She was the youngest of seven children. Elsie's mother and her children remained a year and a half on the farm after Emancipation, then moved to Navasota, Tex. Elsie married John Love in 1867. Four children were born to them before his death in 1882. She married Dave Reece in 1890. Two children were born to them before his death in 1923. Elsie came to Ft. Worth in 1926 to reside with her only remaining child, Mrs. Luffin Baker . She receives a $7.00 monthly pension from the State of Tex. Her story:

Ise bo'n in Grimes County, 90 yeahs ago. Dat am long time, chil's. Yas sar, 90 yeahs, an' Ise see f'om slave-time 'til now. It am heap of change, an' Lawd, how diffe'nt. Heah dat airplane gwine in de air? Well, Co'se, w'en Ise bo'n, weuns don't have sich, an' don't dream of it. If weuns wants to go somewhar, 'tis wid de ox team, an' de big fo'ks have de hosses. Ise 'membahs once Ise lookin' at de hawk flyin', an' says to mammy, Mammy, Ise wish Ise could fly. Hush chil's, if de Lawd wants fo'ks to fly, He would give dem wings lak de birds. Don't wish fo' what de Lawd don't want yous to have", she tells me. Now look Ise sat right heah an' see de fo'ks flyin' in de air, an' right heah, Ise sat an' listen to de radio, an' heah fo'ks sing an' talk a thousand miles away an' it sounds lak 'tis in de next room. W'en Ise a younguns, de fartherest yous could heah a person am 'bout half mile, an' den deys have to holler lak a stuck hawg. Ise wish Ise could live 'nother 90 yeahs to see what's a-comin'. My Marster's name am John Mueldrew . He had a small plantation neah Navasota. Thar whar only three fam'lies on de place, an' 'twas 'bout 20 cullud fo'ks. 'Twarnt lak tudder plantations 'round thar. Weuns am lak one big fam'ly, an' mostest of de cullud fo'ks am related. Deys am uncles, aunts, brothers an' sis's. Thar whar seven chilluns in weuns fam'ly, an' Ise de baby. My pappy died w'en Ise 'bout a yeah old, so Ise don't 'membahs him. My mammy an' weuns had one cabin, 'twas a two room cabin built of logs. Ise learnt to weave cloth, sew an' make clothes. My brother am de shoemaker. My mother's duty am 'tendin' to de cows, an' Uncle John am de carpenter. Now, all of dem wo'k in de field 'sides thar special duty 'cept me. De housewo'k am what Ise do all de time 'sides de weavin' an' spinnin' an' sich. De Lawd bless me wid de awful good Marster. Weuns had three diffe'nt Marsters. Marster John died 'way befo' de wah. Missie Mary mai'ied Marster Mike Hendricks afterwards, an' he died 'bout two yeahs after de weddin'. All dat happens befo' de wah. Den young Marster Jim Mueldrew tooks charge, an' him am jus' as kind as his pappy. Thar am tudder thing dat changed a heap. 'Tis de buyin' all weuns wear an' eat now. Gosh fo' mighty, w'en Ise a gal on de Marster's place, 'twas awful little dat am bought. What weuns eat an' wears, am raised an' fixed by de cullud fo'ks, an' de eats am bettah den sich weuns buys now, an' weuns had all weuns wanted. 'Twas good home-raised an' cured meat, all de milk an' buttah weuns wanted, veg'tables, fruit, co'n meal, honey, 'lasses, brown sugar, eggs, tea once a day, an' coffee once a week. Now, Ise have to live on $7.00 pension dat de State sends me once a month.

Now, what place am Ise best off? Sho, on de Marster's place. De Marster don't overwo'k weuns, but demands jus' reasonable wo'k. Now, lak wid me w'en Ise spend de day weavin'. Ise s'posed to weave fouah yards of cloth. Dat am not hard to do. If Ise hurry, Ise could weave five, or six yards. Weuns have Sundays off f'om wo'k, an' in de wintah time, 'tis Saturday afternoon off too. On Sunday afternoon, weuns goes to chu'ch. 'Twas old man Buffington dat preaches to weuns. He preached to de white fo'ks in de mo'nin', an' de cullud fo'ks after dinner. Weuns always have some party on Saturday nights. 'Twas on weuns place, or on some tudder place in de neighborhood. De Marster gives weuns de pass, an' it says on that the time weuns am to be home. 'Twas de rule, 12 O'clock. Weuns dance de quadrille, an' sing an' sich. De music am fiddles. Gwan man, Ise not able to sing any of de songs. Sho, Ise give some of de words. Now, let me see. Well, dis am one of de songs; "Oh Suzanna, don't cry fo' me", an a tudder am "Rise, shine, give God de glory". Now, de big time an' de happy time fo' allus cullud fo'ks am on Christmas, 'cause de white fo'ks have de tree in de house, an' 'round dat tree am something fo' ever' cullud person. W'en Missie Mary holler, "Santa Clause 'bout due", weuns all gather at de dooah, an' den purtty soon, Santa 'pears wid de red coat an' long white whiskers, in de room all lit wid candles. Den he calls, "Sue, Jane, Elsie," an' so on. W'en our name am called, weuns step inside an' gits de present. Thar am sack of candy fo' ever' chil's, an' jus' sho as Christmas comes, weuns gits a pair of store shoes. Dem am fo' to wear to chu'ch, an' parties. De Marster never calls fo' wo'k f'om Christmas to New Years, 'cept de chores. De whole week am fo' celeb'ation. So yous see, 'twas a good Marster weuns have. Ise 'membahs de wah time good.

Sho do, 'cause young Marster Jim , an' Marster Sam , jines de army. Ise he'p make de cloth an' de clothes dey wears to de army. Ise 14 yeahs old den. Missie Mary sho am pa'ticular 'bout how de suits am made. She helps me wid de wo'k, an' weuns all sho proud w'en de two young Marsters am dressed in de suits. Thar am lots of men in de neighborhood goes an' jines de army. Lots of dem never comes back, but Jim an' Sam comes home befo' de wah am over. Sam gits his right leg shot off, an' Sam gits sick an' comes home on furlough. 'Twarnt long after he comes home 'til he dies. Ise 'membahs w'en Sam dies, 'twas awful moanin' 'mong de nigger fo'ks. Weuns all lak him jus' de same lak he weuns brother. He was awful kind, an' always happy lak, an' he always tries to make tudder fo'ks happy. W'en de funeral tooks place, weuns all goes to de graveyard, an' w'en dey lowers de coffin in de ground, ever'one bust out a mou'nin' an' weepin'. Ise feel sho Ise gwine to choke. It jus' seem dat it couldn't be dat him am dead. Twarnt long after sam dies 'til surrendah comes to weuns. 'Twas on a Saturday, an' weuns am a-fixin' fo' a party dat night. Marster Jim calls weuns together, an' he reads a long paper. W'en he gits through, he says, "Yous don't know what dat means, so Ise 'splain it to yous. 'Tis de ordah f'om de Gov'ment dat make it 'gainst de law fo' me to keep yous as slaves. So now, Ise can't keep yous on de place". Well, yous should see dem cullud fo'ks. Deys jus' plum shocked. Thar faces am long as thar arm, an' so pestered deys don't know what to say or do. De Marster never says a further word, but walks away. De cullud fo'ks starts talkin' 'twix one an' de tudder 'bout what to does. Dey says, "Well, weuns can't stay heah, 'cause de Marster says 'tis 'gainst de ordah. Now, what weuns gwine to do? Whar weuns gwine to live?" Dey talks dat away, an' frets all night. Thar am no dance that night. No sar! Deys sat 'round frettin' 'bout what de Marster says, an' Ise guess de grown fo'ks don' sleep dat night, 'cause 'tis de fust thing Ise heahs de next mo'nin'. De Marster calls all weuns together after breakfas' on Sunday mo'nin' 'gain an' says, Well, what yous niggers gwine to do? Ise don't know, Ise don't know", come f'om ever'one, one after de tudder. Yous bettah know, 'cause Ise not gwine to break de ordah", he tells dem. My Uncle John speaks up an' says, Marster, how long do weuns have to stay? A tudder day. Dat am de mostest time Ise can give yous", he says. Den de Marster laugh hearty, an' 'splains how 'twas. He told dem deys could all stay if dey wants to, but 'rangement must be made fo' de wages, or dat deys can wo'k land an' git half of what dey makes. He told dem deys all have to buy thar own rations, an' clothes an' sich.

Well sar, thar whar a bunch of happy cullud fo'ks after deys learnt deys could stay fo' to wo'k, an' wo'k land an' git half. My fo'ks stayed fo' neahly two yeahs. Den weuns all moved to Navasota an' hired out. Mammy an' Ise gits jobs as cooks. Ise stayed cookin' 'til Ise 18 yeahs old, den Ise gits mai'ied to John Love . He am a carpenter, an' weuns right off, builds a house on land my husband bought f'om Doctor Terrell. He was my husband's Marster. Ise had fouah chilluns by John Love . Deys all dead now. He died in 1881, away f'om home. He was on his way to Austin, an' draps dead f'om some heart misery. Deys brings him home, dead. Dat am big sorrow in my life. Thar Ise was, wid chilluns to s'port. Ise goes to wo'k cookin' 'gain, an' Ise finish raisin' my chilluns. Weuns had some purtty close times, but Ise does it, an' sends dem to school. Yas sar, Ise sends dem to school. Ise don't want my chilluns to be lak deys mother, a non-knowledge person. Twas eight yeahs aftah dat Ise mai'y Dave Reece . Weuns have two chilluns. Marster Reece am a Baptist preacher, an' had a good chu'ch in Navasota 'til he died in 1923. Twarnt long after my husband died 'til Ise gits a letter f'om Missie Mary , an' she writes dat she am awful sick. Yous see, weuns always writes an' visits f'om de time weuns leaves de plantation. W'en Ise gits dat letter, Ise drapped ever'thing, an' goes to her. W'en Ise gits thar, she am awful glad to see me, an' says to me, "Ise sho feel bettah now since yous come. Yous am true friend, an' don't fo'git me". She feels bettah next day, an' thar am hopes she am gwine to git well. My chilluns am home an' need me. Thar am nothin' Ise could do, so Ise goes to Missie an' told her; Ise can't do nothin' heah. Yous have mo' help dan am needed, so Ise gwine home to my chilluns". Elsie , don't go", she pleads. "Ise feel queer, an' feel lak Ise want yous heah". If it makes yous feel bettah, Ise sho stay heah, an' sat right 'side yous if yous want me to", Ise told her. Ise stayed an' de next day, jus' befo' dinnah, Ise a-talkin' to her, an' she told me, "Elsie , go git yous dinnah, an' den come back. Ise wants to tell yous something". Ise goes to dinnah, an' while Ise eatin', she dies suddenly. 'Twas some kind of heart misery she have. Ise often wonder what 'tis she wants to tell me. Ise wanted to do something fo' her, oh so bad, but 'twarnt nothin' Ise could do 'cept pray fo' her. Dat Ise do lots. 'Twas de best friend Ise ever had, dat Ise lost an' Ise feel it. Ise come heah to Fort Worth in 1926 to live wid my daughter, Mrs. Luffin Baker . Ise gits paralyzed in de right side so Ise can't wo'k anymo', an' has to sat all de time an' wait fo' someone to wait on me. 'Tis good dat Ise have a good daughter dat waits on me lak Ise her baby. If 'twarnt fo' her, Lawd only knows what or how dis cullud person would live. Ise have a good life 'til Ise gits paralyzed. Never any troubles dat 'mounts to anything befo' dat 'cept deaths. Klux troubles? No sar, not even sich troubles Ise have. Thar whar Klux in Navasota, but weuns am never bothered by dem. Weuns am all wo'kin' fo' white fo'ks, an' don't run 'round nights. 'Twas de cullud fo'ks dat run 'round nights widout de pass f'om de one deys wo'ks fo', dat gits in trouble wid de Ku Klux Klan.  not much, 'cause Ise don't pay any mind to sich. My husband voted. Ise know dat 'cause Ise heah de men fo'ks talk 'bout votin' de 'Publican ticket. De women can't vote den, so Ise pays it no mind. Ise gwine to leave it to de Lawd to 'tend to my part of it. 'Tis as He wants, anyway.