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"I IS A BAPTIST"
(Georgia)
Tom's note:
I was unable to compare the transcription of this Life History to the
original typewritten pages, so the article here is the best corrected
version I could make based on the Library of Congress transcription.
"Yes 'um, here I is!" said Wesley
Anthony, a venerable Wilkes County Negro, as he entered the office in
response to my "come in." A perfect picture of ante bellum politeness he
made as he stood, hat in hand, his snowy white head slightly bowed in
respect; with coat and tightly buttoned vest of shiny black, gray trousers
and much worn shoes, all neatly brushed. From under a frayed white shirt
collar a rather sober tie was knotted, and a gay studded pin stuck in as
an afterthought completed his carefully made toilet. At his wrists there
peeped stiff white cuffs. His eyes twinkled and there was a broad grin as
I asked him in and remarked upon how dressed up he was.
In a softly modulated voice he replied, "Yes 'um, I put on these Sunday
clo's kase you is to take my picture - that was, you said ef'n it warn't
cloudy, but it is gittin' clouded up powerfully bad, an' I don't 'spose
you kin do it now?"
The disappointment in his answer as it ended in a question, was almost
childlike, so I hastened to promise to take the much coveted picture
sometime soon on a pretty sunshiny day. Greatly pleased he sat down
somewhat stiffly in the offered chair and said, "I'se ready to talk to you
now like you asked me to."
As I was writing "Wesley Anthony" preparatory to taking the interview, I
said, almost to myself, "A good old Methodist name." "I is a Baptist
though," quickly corrected the old man, straightening almost rigidly in
his chair, "and a Baptist preacher at that."
"You are?" I exclaimed with feigned surprise. "That is fine. Then I'm sure
you have something interesting to tell of your religious experience."
With the question as to denomination settled satisfactorily, the aged
shoulders drooped again and settled back comfortably. With dignity and an
air of grave importance he slowly started his story, carefully choosing
his words:
"I'se goin' to start at the very beginnin', Mistess, and tell you all that
is 'portant."
"That is just what I would like for you to do" I replied.
Thus assured, he cleared his throat: "I was borned the middle of a January
on a Thursday, so I was told. The Bible what had the dates in it got
burned up, and it was endurin' slavery times. I was borned belongin' to
Mr. Marse John Anderson, a big merchant in Danbu'g, Wilkes County, Georgy.
"He, Marse John, bought my Mother from his Pa's estate, givin' one
thousand dollars in money for her, and she not but 11 years old! Yes 'um,
$1,000! He bought my Father from Mrs. Anthony after she ceasted. She left
it so her darkies could choose out who they wanted to buy them and he
choosed out Marse John kase he such a great man - the greatest thing of
all was that he was a Baptist and had a christian heart and he proved it
to the whole world. He was as great a man as was in all Georgy, and he was
a big merchant and it was natural he had 700 customers at a time, and over
4,000 acres of land when he died. When he finished his days on yearth he
left for the Glory Land, he did.
He didn't believe in ever owin' nobody nothin', and he raised me like
that. Why I been goin' all 'round on the streets this evenin' lookin' for
Mr. R. Wynne to pay him my house rent for last mont'." He laughed heartily
over this, as though the idea of having to go out and find someone he owed
these hard times amused him.
Thinking a minute with his head bowed to find the right place in his
narrative, he continued: "My Pa was a fine mechanic. Him and his brother
made the buggy Mares John went a co'tin' in. He use to make buggies and do
all kinds of work like that for peoples in Danbu'g.
"I was a little boy big enough to keep in memory my young marster gettin'
ready to go to the Confederate War. Then he come back I 'members I saw him
a comin' a long distance away, but he had on strange clo's, not his
uniform; and I runned to meet him, and he said afterwards that I jumped up
on him, I was so glad to see him, but I don't 'member that part of it.
After he come back from the War he called up all the darkies and he stood
on the porch and talked to 'em and said: 'you all is free, just as free as
I is.' But they wouldn't leave him, they all 'mained on kase he was so
good to 'em.
"In the year one-1874 - Marse John put me on a wagon to haul freight every
day from Washington to Danbu'g, 12 miles, 24 miles 'round trip. I went
every day 'scusin' Sundays. At first I driv two mules and then I got up to
four. I had to get up 'way 'fore day to make the trip on time. 'Long 'bout
that time the stagecoach quit runnin' from Washington, Georgy, to
Abbeville, South Carolina, and the folks in Danbu'g missed the mail that
the stage brought 'em. So one day Marse John and some more white
gentlemens from Danbu'g got in they buggies and come all the way here to
Washington and had me sworn in to take the mail every day. They had me
prepared, Mistess, so I could take it for 'em. After that I took the mail
every day and I was thus the first daily mail carrier in the County of
Wilkes. Yes 'um, that I was, and I is proud that the white folks trusted
me that way with their mail. 'Sides all that the men use to give me big
sums of money to bring to town for 'em, mostly to buy things for 'em. I
'members onc't, Marse John give me exactly $303.00 to bring to a man here
and I brought it to him that day, I handed it to him and told him Marse
John Anderson sont it to him. I waited respectful like and he counted it
and said, 'that's all right, Wesley, tell John you fetched it to me.'
I said 'Yes, Sir, but I wants a riceipt.' He said 'No need of one. You
brought me the money.' And I waited with my hat in my hand, and he fretted
like, 'What you waitin' for?' I said, 'My receipt.'
"With that he tore off a piece of brown paper and wrote on it and stuck it
at me and didn't say nothin'. I thanked him and went on. But I'd a waited
there all night but what I'd carried back a receipt. I warn't goin' to
have Marse John havin' to pay that $303.00 again on my account. You see, I
knowed that man and Marse John did too.
"Marse John axed him next time he saw him what made him write on brown
paper. He laughed and said, "Well, that boy you sont here with that money
has got sense.' 'Nough times I have come to this town with over $500.00 in
my vest pocket pinned up in a envelope. I would count out what it would
take to buy what was wanted at one place and go in and buy that, and then
go 'way off out of sight where nobody could see me and take out enough
money to pay for what I had to get at another place and buy that. No, Sir,
I never did let nobody see me handle all the money I had on me! Even in
them times somebody mought have knocked me out and took the white folks'
money 'way from me. I use to bring cotton too and sell it for the men. I
have brought four and five at one load many a time.
"Sixty-three years ago, come this Christmas, I married Peggy Booker. Us
married the Christmas of the year one-1877 - and been livin' together ever
since."
Here he broke into a merry laugh and said, "Yes 'um, I married Peggy and
then I quit co'tin'. Marse John let us have his nice buggy and we drive
over to Marse Preacher Fortson's - he was a brother-in-law of Marse John's
and he married us standin' up in the hall of his big house. I could have
married lots more gals if I had wanted to kase I was black and nice lookin'
and have been well brought up and knowed how to work and make a honest
livin', but I loved Peggy and I have took good care of her since. We had
15 children born to us, but didn't raise but 11 of 'em. Peggy is paralyzed
now and can't do nothin' to help herself, but she been good to me and took
care of me and the children. Now I takes care of her. I 'members the vows
what I took there 'fore Preacher Fortson when he married us, and I 'tends
to do all I can for her as long as she lives. I goes to the druggists here
and buys physic for her and they all knows me and if I don't have the
money it is just the same, I kin get what I needs kase they knows I'se
goin' to pay 'em when I gets it.
"I hauled freight and carried mail to
Danbu'g, Wilkes County, Georgy, for ten years and would have continued on,
but Peggy wanted me to give it up. She worried over it so, me havin' to
make that long trip every day and in all kinds of weather, so to 'blige
her kase she loved me and wanted to take good care of me, I give it up.
But I couldn't tell Marse John I wouldn't haul for him no more, so to get
out of it I told him I'd continue on if he would pay me $300.00 a year and
furnish me a whole lot of rations every week. I knowed all the time it was
too much and that he warn't going to do it, but that was my way of gettin'
'round hurtin' his feelin's by quittin'.
"I come off the wagon and went to farmin'. I'se a good farmer, I always
could make money out of the ground. I lived 'round first with Marse John
and then with Mr. Walter Sutton, there in Danbu'g. I kin 'er 'vided my
time twixt 'em like."
Here the old man paused as though pondering in his mind just what to say
next. Scratching his head a time or two, very slowly as though to speed up
his thinking, he resumed his story.
"I reckon 'long 'bout here is where my 'ligious 'sperience come in."
"Yes, yes," I said, "do tell me about that."
Thus encouraged he settled back in his chair, his face wreathed in smiles
as he thought back on the "greatest thing" that ever happened to him.
"On a Wednesday, when the yearthquake was 'bout 1886, I was shook up and
stirred up in my heart more greater than anything 'fore that, and I raised
up in bed that night while the yearth was a-shakin', and I promised the
Lord secretly, if he would jest not kill me then I'd serve Him long as I
lived. Mistess, I made a contract with Him that night. I went and jined
the Church that year the yearthquake was, and I felt called to preach, and
I prayed secretly to get rid of it, but God had work for me to do like
when he called Moses; and I took the job. So I prayed on and the more I
prayed the more the call come down on me, the more I was 'prest that I had
to preach, 'till on a second Sunday, when Peggy had dressed up and gone to
her church, and the children had gone over to they Grandma's, and I was at
home by myself, I took up the Bible - it was my steppa's Bible - and I
opened it like this to the first Gospel of Matthew at the 2nd chapter."
Here the old man reached over and took a book from my desk, opened it and
straightened up to his full height, holding the book at a distance from
his face, closed his faded old eyes and with a look of rapture upon his
kindly wrinkled face, he started at the beginning of that chapter and
repeated it through without hesitating for a word. Having finished, he
closed the book and laid it back in place, saying:
"And, Mistess, that was my evidence, kase I had not been to school nor
college. No'm, all the schoolin' I had was in the year one-1873. I went on
Sundays that year to learn to read and took my old Webster's blue back
spellin' book and all the farther I got in that was 'baker', and about all
I learned was my letters and figures. So when I, the first time I looked
inside of a Bible, found I could read, I knowed I was spiritually called,
but I kept prayin' and reading secretly, still I didn't know about trying
preachin' and I tried other things - playin' 'round like Jonah did, and
like him, I didn't get nowheres - lost everything most I had. So finally I
give up and went before the Church and asked to be 'zamined to preach.
They wouldn't try me, and for fifteen long years I was laid on the table
of that church - they wouldn't 'mit me kase I had never been educated,
they said. They said they wanted finished men - one what went to college -
one what knowed how to preach. Mistess, I come like the inch worm, little
by little, till I got there, and they wanted mens what come the
grasshopper way, all in one jump. I didn't have no college wings, that is
when preachers gets up and uses big words what goes flyin' ever folks'
heads, and debates the Bible and goes on all such foolishness as what half
what hears 'em don' know what he's talking 'bout, but they likes that kase
it sounds big, but there ain't nothin' to it, nothin' but sound, that's
all.
"I kep a-waitin' so they sent for me at a conference. They took me off
down to the schoolhouse, two preachers and a whole passel of deacons did,
to 'zamine me to find out if I knowed anything - they didn't think I'd
make the grade so they took me off to myself. The first question they
asked me was: 'What is preachin'?'
"I answered: 'Preachin' is the power of God unto Salvation unto all that
believeth.'" And here the patriarch threw his head back and closed his
eyes as he repeated his answer to his 'zaminers of so many years ago.
"Yes 'um, I made the grade by answerin' the first question they asked me,
they was 'stonishad then and stopped right there. They put a Bible and a
hymn book in my hand and said: 'As you have received these - go preach and
teach.'
I didn't say nothin', but I sought wisdom by prayer and readin' my Bible,
and now I been a member of the Baptist Church over 50 years and a preacher
a long time, and then I been recognized and appreciated as a man of God
all that time. The yearthquake did shake me up and start me off right. I
preaches right now when they calls on me. But I ain't one of these new
fangled preachers what uses big words and has a college education -
college wings I calls it. They think if you been to college you got
everything - can jest spread your arms and fly on, but I'se here to tell 'em
they can't. That ain't the way - you got to pray and that secretly, for
the wisdom and the power. They all cranks up and goes ridin' off to Sunday
School and Church now and don't pay no 'tention to them what can't go.
Why, I had to lecture some of the preachers and members 'bout 'glectin'
Peggy, I did. Now they comes to see her and brings her the Lord's Supper
'count of her can't go to church on 'munion days like she use to. Yes 'um,
I told 'em good 'bout it and stirred 'em up. I tells 'em when they don't
do their duty, I'se a preacher too and so I can talk plain to 'em."
After telling his religious experience, Uncle Wesley came down to earth
again and sat lost in deep reflection. After several minutes he spoke
quickly as though he had just thought of something he was about to
overlook.
"Oh, yes, there is one thing I want to tell you 'bout, something most
folks don't know happened. I recollect it good, and that was jest after
the Confederate war, there come a lot of men and camped there below
Danbu'g, and they done lots of mischief, stealin' all the horses they
could lay hands on. Why, the folks that heard they was there took all they
horses down and hid them out in the Broad River swamps - 'bout 35 or 40
fine horses was hid out all 'long down the river. These folks tooken a
rail fence down what was 'round a pasture and moved it right smack 'cross
the big public road. They done all kinds of bad things like that to pester
the good peoples of Danbu'g, Wilkes County, Georgy.
"Danbu'g folks wouldn't have nothin' to do with 'em, no sir, they
wouldn't, they was above seoch as that. But one day they come ridin' up
with great pistols on they saddles and they had fine saddles too, and they
had horses shod but wouldn't pay for it. Marse John Anderson and some more
gentlemen was at the blacksmith shop, and Marse John was fixed for 'em,
kase he warn't scared of 'em. So he went and shook his finger at 'em,
nothin' but his finger like this." Here he got up and threw his shoulders
back and took a step forward and vigorously shook the index finger of his
right hand at the imaginary marauders, and said:
"'You all is goin' 'round doin' all the mischief you can, prowlin' and
stealin' and everything like that. you is mean and low down and you ain't
nothin' but Wheeler's old cavalry, that's all you is, jest his mean old
cavalry, I know.' He quarreled with 'em and they didn't say nothin' back
to him, they took what he said and jest laughed kase they see he warn't
scared of 'em. So one day right after that they picked up and left, and as
they passed through they was singin' loud as they could:
'Here's Wheeler's cavalry,
Wheeler's in the field
If he gits wounded
It'll be by a wagon wheel.'
"Lots of darkies went off with 'em, and they went a whoopin' and a
hollerin' and a singin' that song. I 'members that jest as good and how
glad everybody was too that they had gone."
This incident reminded me of the wagon train loaded with gold that started
in 1865 from Washington-Wilkes, where the gold had been safely stored
during the dark days of the war, to Richmond, and got no farther than a
little beyond Danburg before it was robbed. Thinking Uncle Wesley might
know something about it, I asked:
"By the way, can't you tell me something about the wagons of gold that
were robbed right after the war? It was near Danburg, wasn't it?"
I soon found that I was not to find out anything about this robbery that
has remained a mystery for the 74 years since that dark night in May when
it happened.
Slowly shaking his head and in almost a whisper he said: "I 'members when
that wagon was robbed and jest where it was stopped, but I couldn't tell
who got the money. It was stole down there below Danbu'g most to the line
of Lincoln County, right at a old schoolhouse what use to stand there.
No'm, I don't know 'bout who got the money, but it sho was took. I
recollects the big stir it caused and how wild folks did talk."
Seeing that he did not wish to talk about this unfortunate happening nor
anything connected with it, I changed the subject by asking him what work
he was doing now.
"I'm doin' regular farm work, but ain't farmin' for myself. No'm, the good
white man what I worked with last wouldn't rent me no land, said I was too
old to plow. That sho did hurt my feelin's. I'se old I know, well up in
the eighties, but I'se goin' to work jest as long as I can. I walks three
miles to my work every mornin'. I gets up, eats my breakfast and reaches
up and there is my dinner bucket the children has fixed for me the night
before and I takes my stick and off I go and am at work 'fore the hands on
the farm I helps on is there. I lays younger mens than I is in the shade
too, I can do more hard work now than these ordinary Negroes what has come
on since slavery, they not taught to work, Mistess, they not bred and born
good as us what come 'long way back yonder when folks knowed how to work
and how to take care of theirselves.
"The Government started givin' me a old age pension, $5.00 a month, but
twelve months ago come this January they cut me off and said I would have
to wait a while and let some of the other old folks have some help too. I
need it mighty bad, 'specially since Peggy is sick, but I goes on and does
the best I can and trusts the Lord. Pshaw, I'se goin' to work as long as I
live - I got three homes I can go to any day, three good white mens what
knows me and wants me to come live with 'em. But I rents a little house
down here on the Augusty Highway, four miles from town, and I stays there
and pays my rent every mont'. It makes me in-de-pendent to live like that
and work for my livin' - it is more 'spectable." He stood up, and I knew
the interview was at an end. As I was thanking him for coming and telling
me so many interesting things, I noticed crepe on his left sleeve, a heart
cut out and sewed on his coat. I asked him what it meant.
Looking down at it, he said slowly and in a voice almost too low to
understand: "That is for my boy what died not long ago. He was such a good
boy to me and his mother and it hurt us so to have to give him up. He left
us for a better world though."
I hastened to say a word of sympathy, and the first daily mail carrier of
Wilkes County, bowed low and passed out into the hall where he gathered up
his overcoat and cane and, reminding me that I was to make his picture one
day soon when the sunshine was bright, he went on his way.
"I IS A BAPTIST"
Written by: Miss Minnie Stonestreet
Washington, Georgia
Edited by: Mrs. Leila H. Harris
Supervising Editor
Georgia Writers' Project
Area 7
Augusta, Georgia
December 13, 1939.
December 13, 1939
Wesley Anthony (Negro)
Augusta Highway
Washington, Georgia
Preacher and Laborer
Text from: Library of
Congress, Manuscript Division, WPA Federal Writers' Project Collection
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