The Broken Harmonica

Book One

Antebellum Days

CHAPTER ONE

The old man sat in his rocking chair. There was not a sound to be heard but the slow sequential thumping as the bottom of his chair touched the wooden floor and a slow creaking of his chair as he rocked back and forth in the empty room. Silence was a sound that he had become accustomed to, for his apartment possessed no phonograph or radio. Nothing to break the silence but the sounds of his own movements coupled by the faint roar coming through an open window made by the sounds of traffic on the streets beneath his apartment building. His eyes wandered across the room. They fell upon a newspaper on his night table. The date was July 10th, 1931. In two days it would be his 98th birthday, but it made no difference. Nothing made any difference. Everyday was the same. The date, the year, all insignificant. They served only to bring him closer to his death, the only event he had left to look forward to. The loneliness had become unbearable. He wondered for what purpose had God chosen to keep him alive if only to pass his hours in boredom and isolation. When death did inevitably come, who would notice or care. The arthritis in his knees had made walking excruciating which stripped him of one of the few pleasures he had left; taking walks in the park and observing the beauty of nature. Now he had only to waddle away the hours in his tiny little apartment. The only time that he left his apartment was for his weekly trip to the grocery store which was excruciating for him even though it was only a block away. The only other time that he would leave his apartment would be to check the mailbox. The only mail he would ever receive would be the checks from his son to help pay for his expenses, and of course the bills. The money he received was gradually decreasing with each check as the Great Depression wore on. He’d tried to cut back but soon the money would not be enough to maintain his survival. The old man’s eyes were now focused on a mirror above his dresser. In it he saw the withered face of an old man who had become tired of living. The lines of time wore deep into his skin. The face of the man he saw in the mirror only bore a slight resemblance to the handsome man he had once been. His eyes turned away from the mirror and a tear trickled down his cheek.

All of a sudden an unfamiliar sound caught his ear. A sound that he almost did not recognize because he had not heard it in such a long time. There was a faint knocking sound coming from his door. At first he thought that he had imagined it. Then he heard it again. This time it was louder. There was no denying it he had visitor. His mind tried to ponder at the range of possibilities of who was behind that door- a salesman perhaps, the landlord. Could it be a member of his family? No this was inconceivable. The knock came again this time it was even louder. The old man still remained frozen in his chair in apparent disbelief. Finally he decided that he would not let this rare opportunity for social interaction slip away, whoever it was. The pain from his arthritis stricken knees radiated throughout his legs as he trudged slowly across the room and pulled open the heavy oak wood door. Standing in the doorway was a tall slender young man wearing a rust colored suit and a plaid tie. He had silky brown hair which was well trimmed and cut. In his left hand he carried some papers and notebooks.

What can I do for you young man? said the old man who had almost become unaccustomed to the sound of his own voice.

Are you Mr. Cornelius Wright? The man asked.

Yes, What can I do for you? He repeated.

My name is Robert Haldiman and I am an anthropologist from Columbia University and I am studying the lives of ex-slaves from the South. Do you know that you are one of the oldest living former slaves?

How did you ever find out about me? asked Cornelius.

Huh huh He chuckled.

I’ve been doing my homework. Can I come in please?

Certainly He said as he led the man into his tiny apartment. After disappearing into the kitchen, he re-emerged dragging an armchair which he placed directly in front of his rocking chair.

Please sit down. The young man politely obliged.

You served in the Civil War if I am correct Robert said while in the process of being seated.

Yes, that is correct came Cornelius’ reply. After a small moment of silence he added

So what would you like to know. It is true I had been a slave. Cornelius found it strange that a young man would be coming into his home wanting to know about him, but he enjoyed the opportunity for company and would do all that he could to be of use.

Well, came Robert’s reply. There was a slight pause, Everything. I am here to listen to your life’s story. I would like to know everything that happened to you from the time that you were born until now

Well that’s a mighty long story. Cornelius said.

I’ve got plenty of time. added Robert.

After releasing a long sigh, Cornelius leaned back in his rocking chair. His eyes were shut as if to indicate that his mind was making the journey back through time. Then he began rocking slowly and speaking so that his words would be enunciated correctly.

I was born nearly a century ago in the year 1833 on a large sugar cane plantation just outside of Recovery in Decatur County southern Georgia. I never knew my mother. I had been told that she was a beautiful woman. I had also been told that she died giving birth to me. My father was a tall robust figure of a man whose muscles were hardened by the labor of the fields. His name was Ethan. This was the name that I frequently heard him being called by the master and the overseer. The overseer, Xavier Thomas was the meanest, most loathsome creature that God ever had the misfortune of placing on this earth. My heart held nothing but the deepest of hatred and contempt for this man and I often wished him dead. He would often flog my father mercilessly for the slightest infraction of the rules. This was a sight that filled me with horror; to see the man who had such a powerful influence in my life dehumanized in such a way. I recall the first time I witnessed my father being flogged. He had been late to the fields because he had been preparing breakfast for me and my two siblings. I recall Xavier saying Ethan your tardiness is not to be permitted He then proceeded to have my father hung by his thumbs. He whipped my father in the most vicious, cruelest manner I had ever seen. His piercing screams remain vivid in my mind. I cried loudly as I watched and I begged the overseer to stop. This was a sight that I gradually came to accept, although it still frightened me. My father, being of the rebellious nature was frequently punished.

I began to learn that he was an unruly, not easily disciplined slave and I often remember him talking about how he hated the whites and the institution of slavery. Quite frequently in the privacy of our cabin he could curse the master and the overseer to hell. Seeing his hatred and their treatment of him forced me to adopt a pattern of fear and aversion toward those who I would hear my father condemn. I rarely would have any contact with the whites and would avoid them whenever possible. Whenever I would be forced to speak to one of them I would stutter and stammer uncontrollably. Hardly a coherent sentence would come from my lips. In spite of all of this I was still not totally aware of what is meant to be a slave. It would only be later in my life that I would come to realize this.

Our master was a wealthy planter by the name of Arthur Pelham. He was married to Margaret, an impudent woman who was very strict in her ways. Between them they had five children. All of them boys. The youngest one, Will I developed a great fondness for. He was the only one who was close enough to my age to be a playmate for me. Together we would roam about the plantation seeing what sort of mischievous acts we could get ourselves into. My realization of my different status began with the fact that I was never permitted into the main house while he would be allowed to come and go as he pleased. I would frequently have to wait outside for him to come out.

This was one of the many things that began to give me an idea of my inferior position. This restriction served to make the main house a place of intrigue for me. This heightened my curiosity and made my desire for entering the house even stronger. My opportunity came when Will snuck me inside because he wanted for me to see his bedroom which he shared with his older brother Tom. I was astonished by the beautiful oakwood furniture and paintings on the walls. All was so well kept and well preserved. It was hard to imagine that such luxury existed especially while I lived in a miserable little cabin with little furniture and a bed made of hay. Will successfully managed to sneak me past the dining area which was elaborately furnished with a heavy accent on mirrors and many candles. As we made our way up the staircase toward the bedroom, we were stopped by a voice calling from the bottom of the staircase. I turned around to see that it was Bell, the large domestic house servant.

Hey dere! She called. Don’t you know boy dat you ain’t suppose to be comin’ in da house! Da De Missus done tole me I ain’t suppose to be lettin’ you come in da house!

But Will and I ignored her and quickly ran up the stairs. I anticipated that she would come right after me, however she did not.. I successfully made it into Will’s room. I marveled at the beautiful furniture. The room contained two of everything for him and his brother. Two dressers containing large mirrors, two cabinets, two desks with customized oakwood armchairs. Two beds complete with pillow and mattress. Will’s brother Tom with whom he shared the room was twelve years old and was out playing on the plantation grounds. We left the room and descended quickly down the stairs. As we reached the dining area Ms. Margaret saw me and called out

What the hell is that nigger child doing in my house! Bell replied

But Missus Margaret I done told him to stay out but he wouldn’t listen! At this point I attempted to run out of the house but Ms. Margaret yanked me by the ear. Pulling me by the ear she took me out to the fields where my father was busy cutting sugar cane. She then proceeded to reprimand my father saying such things as You outta learn to keep a better eye on your kids! You can’t let them go roamingall over the place like that! She then proceeded to tell the overseer to flog my father. At hearing this the tears immediately swelled up in my eyes and I ran back to my cabin and remained there for the rest of the day. My sense of guilt that day was unbearable. After my father came home after the long chore of boiling the sugar cane, my shame made me incapable of even facing him. That night I received a beating that I will never forget.

So deep had my friendship with Will become that I would wait feverishly for him to come home from school so that we could play together. There was one instance where the two of us had gone to do some fishing and after having been unsuccessful in our attempts to catch fish, Will suggested the idea that we take an abandoned raft that we found tied to a post and sail it down the river. I was reluctant at first, but seeing his enthusiasm for this idea I quickly complied. After we unfastened the raft Will and I sailed down the river using a large stick to help paddle us along. For several hours we sailed down the long and winding river. The river led us into a swampy area, dense with brush. The region contained some very beautiful birds, Flamingoes I believe they were. We finally decided to go ashore when we noticed we were rapidly approaching a waterfall. Realizing that it was getting late, we decided to head back toward home. Paddling became more difficult this time since we were travelling against the current, however we persisted until we reached a fork in the river. From here, the river diverged into two separate directions. The two of us debated vehemently as to which direction to take. I perhaps having a clearer sense of direction, told Will that we emerged from the right, however Will insisted that we go to the left. We sailed for close to an hour before we went ashore because we had become frightened by the sight of an alligator in the water. We walked along the bank of the river for nearly an hour before we realized that the area that we came across bore no familiarity to from whence we came. We eventually came across an old mill which drew its power from a large wheel churning the water. We knew for certain that we had not come across this landmark on our journey. We decided to head back toward the fork in the river. The sky was now pitch black and full of stars. We were frightened by the darkness and the sounds made by strange animals in the night. We shortly became aware that we had a more serious problem besides our obvious hunger and fatigue. In order to go back in the proper direction we would have to cross the river. We had left our raft further up the river and we now knew that the river contained alligators. Walking further along the river I noticed that there was a section where the river narrowed considerably. Hardly visible in the night I noticed several rocks in the water. Stepping from one to another, it would be possible to cross over to the other side. I suggested this to Will, however reluctant as he was, he knew that there was no other alternative. I being of the more daring nature was the first one to attempt the cross. I did so successfully reaching the safety of the opposite bank. Shortly afterward Will attempted the cross. Midway to safety his foot slipped on one of the wet, slippery rocks. He pivoted, struggling desperately to maintain his balance, but he could not. Will fell into the water with a splash.

Swim Will Swim! I cried. I can’t he shouted back at me. All of sudden I noticed a large object moving in the water toward Will at an incredible speed. I did not have to wait for confirmation but knew in my heart that it was an alligator. I stepped quickly out over the rocks to where Will was located bending down, still trying to maintain my balance, I stretched out my hand toward Will. Will grabbed my hand and I tried to pull him up, but his weight forced me to lose my balance and topple over into the water. My next instinct was to wrap my arm around Will’s neck and swim toward the bank. After arriving at the shore I quickly climbed ashore and proceeded to pull Will from out of the water. Pulling him up, however I sensed that he was being held by something. That’s when I realized to my horror, that the alligator had gotten hold of Will’s foot. Will looked down at his foot and let out the most piercing scream that shattered the silence of the night. With every ounce of strength I could possibly muster, I tugged at Will’s heavy body. Then miraculously, his left shoe popped off and sank into the mouth of the mighty alligator. Will nearly came flying up into my arms. As I moved him toward safety, the alligator sank his enormous head back into the depths and disappeared. We both breathed a tremendous sigh of relief and thanked the lord for delivering us from such a horrifying experience. We momentarily hugged one another, and with Will wearing only one shoe on his foot, and with both of us sopping wet, we continued on our journey. We finally arrived at the plantation very late. We were both ecstatic with joy at the sight of the huge house. As we approached the steps to the main entrance Mrs. Margaret came running out screaming with tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.

Oh my God, Will you’re alright! Oh thank the Lord! She grabbed Will and hugged him tightly. She then led Will into the house. I followed him cautiously, seeing that Mrs. Margaret was so beside herself with joy that she would not notice my intrusion. Kneeling down and grabbing Will by the shoulders she said

Will where were you? You had us all worried half to death. Why Will, you’re all wet and what happened to your other shoe?

Well Mama we just went down that old river on a raft but then we got lost. You should’ve seen it Mama I fell in the river and a big old mean alligator had me by the foot and Cornelius here pulled me out from that mean old alligator’s mouth. My chest swelled with pride as I said

Ah it wasn’t nothin.

But Miss Margaret just looked at me and just turned to Will and said:

Boy don’t you ever do nothing like that again! You had me and your papa scared to death! Him, Ethan and Ervin have been out looking for you all night, in fact they still out looking for you right this very minute! (Ervin was domestic house slave).

Just as I was about to excuse myself and head back to my cabin, I heard the sound of a galloping horse approaching the house. A few seconds later, in walked Arthur Pelham holding a large lantern in one hand.

Oh thank heavens Will you’re alright he said running toward Will and grabbing him in his arms.

Where the hell have you been! We’ve been worried sick about you! he said kneeling.

Well me and Cornelius went fishing but since the fish weren’t biting we found ourselves a raft and sailed down the river.

You what?! His relief quickly turned to anger and he began to shake Will violently by his shoulders.

Why the hell did you do a stupid thing like that?! What in God’s name were you thinking of?! Don’t you know that river’s got gators in it!

At this point Will had began crying. He then turned to me and said

It was his idea.

Will’s father turned to me and slapped my face with such force that my head spun around with the impact.

You stupid nigger! he shouted.

I cried loudly and ran out of the house and back to my cabin. There I was hugged and consoled by my brother Latimer and my sister Harriet. They told me that my father was still looking for me and had insisted on joining in the search when he heard of my disappearance. My father came home later that night and after a brief period of relief and joy, he took the switch to my behind.

The next day I did not speak to Will for I felt a deep sense of anger toward him. I felt that he had betrayed me after I had saved him from the jaws of death. His blatant lie inflicted my master’s wrath upon me and corrupted my good honor.

I later learned that our little expedition had taken us across into Florida. This was the first time I had been out of the state of Georgia since my birth.

Several games were often played among all of the plantation children, black and white alike. Participating in them would be my older brother Latimer and my sister Harriet when she was not busy with her chores, being that she was the oldest, she was the first one to be assigned chores. Also participating would be Will’s two older brothers, Tom who was twelve and Lawrence who was thirteen. Will’s two older brothers were too well into their teens to be interested in childhood play. Children of the other slave families would also be significantly represented during these games. Among the favorites would be blind man’s bluff, hide and go seek and tag, which frequently caused friction among the players especially since the older white children did not always take to good sportsmanship when selected to be it. I recall during one of these episodes of hide and go seek Will tried to persuade me to go and hide with him in the main house, but despite my tender age, I knew better than to make the same mistake twice. I chose to hide in a more obvious place and was eventually found.

On specific weekends and such holidays as Christmas and Easter, parties would be held by the plantation slaves. On the major holidays I would be permitted to stay up and partake of these festivities. These gatherings would be a joyous occasion for both the young and the old and would often include slaves from the neighboring plantations. Music would be played and there would be much dancing. Effram, the plantation fiddler would provide the rhythm and tempo by which the slaves would gyrate violently in elaborate dances while chanting the lyrics to songs calling to God for freedom from the oppression of slavery. Alcohol would flow and many a slave would return to his cabin in drunken oblivion. This was one of the rare occasions that I would see my father transformed from a bitter miserable person into a happy joyful man who seemed to completely forget his state of oppression. He would enjoy himself, dancing with the multitude of women and drinking heavily often to the point of severe intoxication, to the point that several men would have to physically transport him back to our cabin in which we children would be forced to listen to the sounds of his regurgitations all through the night. Mornings following such episodes he would often be flogged for tardiness to the fields. I concluded that this cutting lose so to call it was my father’s antidote for the misery of slavery.

My father’s intolerance of slavery frequently caused him difficulties in his relations with the master and overseer. It was not surprising that he was among the worst treated of the slaves. He was the only slave who was courageous enough to talk back to his master which would frequently bring the lash into play. In one incident after my father had received a brutal flogging he went into a fit or anger and killed several of my master’s livestock. The master, horrified by this act, beat my father badly with a heavy wooden stick and then in a fit of uncontrollable rage, hit him over the head with a barrel rendering him unconscious. When my father did not wake up after twenty four hours there was much concern throughout the plantation. When my father finally awakened after having been several days in a coma, my master apologized for having nearly killed him. He also told him that if he did not shape up he would have him sent to another plantation. Seeming to take heed to this warning, my father’s behavior improved considerably and he was punished less frequently.

On some occasions we would have a very special visitor. I would look forward to seeing this vistor with great enthusiasm. For this visitor was my grandfather. He was a remarkable man that I admired greatly even more so than my own father. He went by the name of Ebeneezer, but he would tell us that this was not his real name. He claimed that his true name was Sumbe Umbgala and that he was an African. The children of the plantation would form a circle around him and listen in astonishment as he would tell of the great far away land. I would be the most fascinated as I listened, wide eyed as he told of how he had been a great warrior in Africa. He had been the son of tribal chief with great power. He told how he possessed three wives and many children. He told of how he had once been attacked by a leopard in the jungle and would show us the point on his leg where the ferocious animal had delved deep into his flesh. He told of when the slave traders had raided his village. This had been in the middle of the night during a victory celebration after he successfully defeated members of the Yuroba tribe whom they were repeatedly waging wars against. My grandfather tried to stay and fight off these offenders but when realizing that he could not, he fled into the jungle with his eldest son Bogi, but was pursued by several of the traders. He recalled how he cut one of the men who had captured Bogi. In the process Bogi managed to escape while he himself was captured. He recalled the sadness and terror he felt as he saw many of his fellow villagers were gathered in the middle of the night and tied together by a rope and marched together for what seemed like an endless distance. My grandfather told of how he remembers the first time that he truly realized the power of the white man. This was when a lion attempted to attack one of the traders. He pulled out a rifle and shot the animal dead. He just remembered seeing a bright light and hearing a loud noise and watching the animal fall dead. They arrived at the shore where they saw a great ship with several masts and great big sails. He remembered the pain of his branding and the lengthy trip across the Atlantic which he described as the most horrifying nightmare one could ever imagine. He was taken first to Trinidad where he cut sugar cane for a a wealthy planter who owned close to 500 slaves. The cane grew as tall as trees I remember him saying. He was later taken and sold in the continental United States after attempting to burn down his master’s house. He found himself working for a tobacco planter in Mississippi. He was sold several times in Mississippi partly due to his resistance to slavery and was then taken to Georgia. Listening to his tales of Africa gave me the first knowledge of what freedom really was. My grandfather was a very old slave, being well into his nineties and had fathered several other children on several different plantations. It had not been until he was well into his fifties that he had my father. He often talked of there having been a great war in the United States that had been fought to separate her from her mother country.

These stories would so intrigue me that I would find myself asking as many questions as possible in order to keep him in our company as long as possible.

Even though I was somewhat young being still a child, my mind began to grasp the concept that freedom meant not having to work for any man. It meant having the liberty to undertake whatever one pleased without having to devote one’s entire life servitude of a man especially because that man’s skin happened to be white and yours black. I began to realize at an early age that the world was not entirely fair and that injustices appeared to exist.

Being older than I was, I began to see my older brother Latimer assuming tasks while I would still roam about the plantation with Will. It was when I turned nine years old that my true life as a slave began when I was assigned to light chores. Among them would be taking care of the livestock, carrying water to the fields and numerous other small tasks. Will’s attitude toward my new found labor was that it began to give him a sense of understanding of his supremacy toward my position. He took this opportunity to boss me around. He would make me shine his shoes even if they were not dirty. He would make me go to the well constantly to fetch him water to drink even if he was not thirsty. When I was not busy about my chores, he always found some task for me to perform that would benefit him personally. Seeing the pleasure that he would take in making me serve him caused me to resent him. This would be the cause of the deterioration of what had once been a close friendship.

As I turned eleven I began to take on more difficult tasks such as learning how to work the plough and helping to clear the land for the harvest. Latimer who was now thirteen would accompany my father in the fields. I recall how they would work from dawn to dusk many times in the unbearable heat of the Georgia sun. They would come home at the end of the day, their bodies covered with sweat and the stench of their labor. All the while my sister Harriet was blossoming into a beautiful young woman. At the age of fourteen her breasts had become ripened and firm. Her shapely figure coupled by her light skin and adoring smile served to make her a true beauty to the eye. She was the pride and joy of my father. She served as the only true mother figure that I had ever had in my life. I admired her for her strength and courage in the way she had taken care of and looked after me and my brother while we were growing up. She would be the one responsible for the cooking of the meals that would be eaten in our quarters. She would also be the one in charge of the cleaning and sweeping of our cabin. She would also do light work in the fields. I soon began to notice however that my sister Harriet had certain privileges that other slaves did not. She was permitted to do less work in the fields. She was also the only field slave that was permitted to enter the main house without even so much as a retribution. My master seemed to value her more than the other slaves, but I sensed that this was not because of the quality or the amount of work that was done by her. I frequently noticed the way that my master would look at her during conversations with her. His eyes would be focused on the parts of her body as opposed to maintaining direct eye contact. There was one occasion where I noticed the two of them engaged in a conversation. My distance made it impossible for me to hear the words, but I noticed how his hand gently caressed her buttocks.

I recall one day in the quarters after my father and Latimer had come home after a long day’s toil in the fields. After expressing their exhaustion and hearing my father bitterly complain about the misery of slavery and once again apologizing for having bought me and my siblings into this world of oppression which he did so frequently, we sat to eat dinner which Harriet had prepared. My father said to Harriet

How come Massa Arthur like you so much? I been noticin’ how he been talkin’ to you and he even been lettin’ you git away wit doing less work than the rest of us.

Harriet took a few seconds before answering.

I been noticin’ it too. Massa Arthur have been real kind to me I don’t know why he been doin’ it, but I sures likes it. I ain’t never known him to be so kind and good.

I hope it jus kindness dat in him. said my father

Cause if he lay a hand on you..

Oh no Papa! She interrupted him. He never would do dat! He a good man Papa really he is. He ain’t been hasslin’ you no more, has he?

That’s cause I ain’t been crossin’ him no more. That man done nearly killed me. For three days I was knocked out, no one knowed if I was livin’ or dyin. That man be as evil as the day is long. He hasn’t been touchin’ you has he?!" shouted my father.

No Papa! I told you that he been gentle and kind more than any man I ever knowed ‘ceptin’ you Papa.

At this point my eleven year old mind struggled with the decision as to whether I should tell what I had witnessed. I decided that for whatever reason my sister had for not wishing to tell my father, for whatever purpose that she was trying to protect my master, it was not my place to intevene.

Then one night after the overseer’s horn sounded bedtime in the quarters, we all lay in our beds tired from the day’s toil. Out of the night my ears caught the sounds of faint footsteps headed toward our cabin. They grew louder and louder until I could sense that someone was directly outside of our cabin. The door opened slowly and I remember sitting from my bed to see who it was. I only could see in the darkness the silhouette of what appeared to be my master standing over Harriet’s bed.

What’s going on? I said. There was no reply. The next thing that I remember was my master whispering something to Harriet and then leading her out of the cabin. I still being of a tender age was naïve about such matters as sex, but sensed what they were doing was something terrible. The two of them were apparently lying in the grass outside of the cabin. I heard my sister making noises such as I never heard before. She was sobbing and I heard the sound of rustling grass as she struggled. I heard my master quietly telling her not to make any noise. All the while I heard my father shifting uncomfortably in his bed. I knew that he was not sleeping.

The next day there was a tension that hung over all of us. No one dared speak of what had happened. Everyone went about their duties in the customary fashion as if nothing had occurred. There was little doubt in my mind that my father had been awake during the incident. It was inconceivable as to how my father could have allowed for such a thing to happen. Then a week later it happened again in the exact same manner. Then it happened again the next night and the next. Each time I knew that my father was aware of what was going on. The next day the tension could be felt, but no one would breathe a word to the other. I felt as if I should say something, force them into an admission of their state, but I also felt that it was not my place to do so.

Then one night after we were all exhausted from the day’s toil, we decided to go to sleep shortly after the overseer’s horn sounded. I lay awake in my bed praying that my master would not come tonight. But my prayers went unanswered. Not much time had passed before I heard the dreaded sound of footsteps in the distance. I could hear my heart thumping loudly. Then the cabin door opened slowly to reveal my master’s silhouette. He stood over Harriet’s bed but this time I distinctly remember hearing her whispering through her sobs No please not again. He forced her out of bed and led her outside of the cabin. The sounds of her sobs and their struggling in the grass was the only sounds that could be heard in the quiet night. My father began to wrestle uncomfortably in his bed but this time he stood up. Rising from his bed he walked over to the place where he kept his machete that he used for cutting the sugar cane. He took the machete and walked toward the door and stepped outside of the cabin. The next thing that I remember hearing was the sound of wrestling bodies. Then I heard my master’s voice saying

Ethan what the..

Then I heard my sister’s voice screaming

No Pappa No!

The next thing I remember hearing was the most horrifying blood-curling scream that was loud enough to wake the dead. It did almost exactly that for the entire plantation stirred. I leapt up from my bed along with my brother Latimer who had been sleeping peacefully until then. Latimer and I ran outside of the cabin. I was terrified at what I found. Lights were on and slaves were pouring out of their cabins. Lights were also on in the main house and lanterns could be seen heading toward our direction. Then I saw my master’s body lying in the grass. Blood was still trickling from his throat soiling his shirt. My father was standing over him holding a machete still dripping with blood. Standing next to him was Harriet who was crying hysterically. By now an entire crowd had gathered around the sight including Mrs. Margaret and the five children. Miss Margaret was crying loudly and screaming loudly

You Murderer! You Murderer! You Murderer!

Then everyone started grabbing my father. He tried to struggle but he was quickly overcome. Effram the fiddler slave punched my father in the face and grabbed his machete from his hand. The slaves took him as he struggled while screaming

He was raping my daughter! He was raping my daughter! Under the direction of Miss Margaret, the slaves had him chained up and placed inside of a wooden box which was kept somewhere inside of the main house. That night I did not sleep. I lay awake in my bed crying softly. I was terrified at what might become of my father. My tears drenched the straw on my bed. Harriet came over to my bed to console me. Kneeling next to me she put her arms around my neck to comfort me.

It’s okay, it’s alright She said. I sat up in my bed.

‘Harriet I said, What’s gonna happen to Pappa?"

I don’t know Sugar, I don’t know, but I do know we still got each other. We’ve got to be strong. If not for our sake than for Papa’s sake. You knows I always gonna be here to take care of you. she said. For a fourteen year old she demonstrated remarkable bravery. I truly admired her for it.

The next day the three of us went about our plantation duties as usual trying to ignore the fact that our father was not among us. Then that night after we all lay sleeping in our beds there came a knocking upon the door. Latimer lit the lamp and opened the door. It was my father accompanied by two officers on both sides of him, each one holding onto an arm.

Pappa! We all three of us chorused together as we ran toward him hugging him tightly. At this point the two officers let go of him and he stepped into the room. The two officers stood guarding the doorway.

Children He said I is gonna be goin’ away now. I could see the tears in his eyes as he spoke.

I just wants you to know that I love y’all a lot and I would do anything in the world for you. I wants you to take care of things while I ain’t around. Harriet you look after your brothers you hear me? Latimer, Cornelius you take good care of your sister. You be treatin’ her good and kind now.

Pappa I said Are you gonna be goin’ to jail?

Well sort of He answered.

Are we gonna be seein’ you again? Asked Latimer.

Sure you will. he said. The next time you gonna be seein’ me its gonna on a higher plane and we all gonna be free men. At this moment one of the officers grabbed my father’s arm and said

Its time to go Ethan. The other officer grabbed the other arm and led him out of the cabin. I didn’t want to let go of my father but I knew that I had to. That was the last time I ever saw my father. I later learned that he was taken to prison and executed.

Miss Margaret who was in a state of mourning for her dead husband decided that she did not want to have any reminders of what my father had done. I recall having been told that she said I refuse to have anything to do with the children of such a man. Whether or not this was an act intended to punish us for what our father had done, or whether our presence truly gave her a sense of shame, hatred and/ or embarrassment, I do not know. Whatever the circumstances she decided that we would have to be sold.

CHAPTER TWO

The next thing that I remember is being on the back of a wagon with my two siblings on our way to Savannah to be sold. We all sat somber and grim throughout the journey. No one spoke a word to the other even though we knew that in all probability that this would be the last time that we would be seeing each other.

Savannah in 1844 was a bustling town which captivated me even in my grief-stricken state. This was the first time in my life that I had been to a big city. It was most unfortunate that it had to be under such circumstances. The wide streets were strewn with horse-drawn carriages and buggies as we passed the myriad of stores and shops that comprised the downtown area. The streets were filled with people walking about. Lovely damsels in their long flowing garments accompanied by their gallant mates were a common sight as well as young lads peddling their big wheeled bicycles about the streets. We arrived at the auction where we were man-handled and treated as if we were common merchandise. My sister Harriet was the first one to be sold. My heart filled with an unimaginable grief as I watched her being taken away by her new owners. My brother was next. I was last.

I was bought and taken to a cotton plantation outside of Church Hill, in north eastern Tennessee. The plantation was owned by a man named Frederick Wright who assumed the role of my new master. Because of my young age at my arrival to the plantation, my last name was changed from Pelham to Wright.

Being only 11 years old I was already ginning cotton. I was forced to stay in a large crowded cabin which was shared by three slave families. I was also forced to share my bed, if one could call it that, with total a stranger; a twelve-year-old boy by the name of Ned. I recall when I was first introduced to my cabin-mates by Miss Suzy, the lady of the house she said

This here is a new slave that we just bought. He’s from Georgia. He’s gonna be staying in here with you all,. His name is Jim.

I beggin’ your pardon Ma’m. I go by the name of Cornelius. Dat be the name my pappy give me and dat be the name I been goin’ by all my life. I said.

Oh really now, She said You’re on my plantation now and you will go by whatever name we decide to give you. If we decide to call you Jim than that’s your name. Have I made myself understood?

I don’t think my pappy, rest his soul would be ‘preciatin’ you changin’ the name that he choose to give me. I said.

Well that’s just too bad isn’t it She said. I decided not to pursue the point any further for fear of perhaps being punished on my first arrival.

My cabin had many children. There were three married couples and between them they had thirteen children. The first couple Josiah and Nellie had 5 children among them. They were Nathan, Ned, Joshua, Sam and Earl. The next couple Zacharias and Amanda also had five children. Among these were Lucius, Carlton, Shirley, Christophana and others whose names are lost to time.

The labor on the plantation was hard. I would work from sun up to sun down picking cotton, the first time that I truly felt the misery of my oppression. My first flogging came shortly after my twelfth birthday. The white members of the plantation had taken to calling me Jim, however in the quarters I kept my true name, Cornelius. My flogging resulted from my persistence in maintaining my true identity even among those superior to me. On one occasion while I was busy in the fields Damien, the overseer called me.

Jim! He called Jim! I paid him no mind for I was still relentless in my desire to be referred to by my true name. Finally he became aggravated and shouted:

Jim, Are you deaf! What’s the matter with you! He came over to me and violently grabbed me by the arm shouting:

Jim! Don’t you know you’re supposed to answer me when I call?!

I looked at him in the eye and said:

Was you talkin’ to me? I don’t see anybody around here goin’ by dat name.

Don’t get smart with me nigger! I’ll teach you to answer when I call!

He had my two arms tied together and had me hung up from the limb of a large tree. I was given ten lashes. With each one I cried out in agony as my body would be swung about with the impact of each stroke.

I recall the anger that I felt toward the overseer after the experience. Bitter rage consumed me until I felt that I must reek vengeance upon him and that I would surely kill him if he were ever to raise his whip upon me again. As time wore on my anger became subdued and I began to react less frequently with fits of bitter rage and hatred every time that I would be flogged. Also with the passage of time I greater learned the plantation ways and became more adept at learning how to avoid beatings.

With the arrival of my early adolescent years came the forming of close friendships with members of my cabin and other members of the plantation environment. Nellie, (the mother of Nathan and Ned who served as my two closest comrades throughout these years) served as a good substitute for the mother that I had been robbed of all those years. She looked after me as well as her own children. Her treatment of me would be no different than that of her own children. She would give no less to me than she would to her own. Or no more for that matter. She served as a nurturer and a confidante. She became one that I could come to in a time of crisis.

Miss Suzy, the lady of the house was a most despicable woman whom I despised greatly. I held her in contempt even more so that the feigned Miss Margaret. Her behavior toward the slaves was berating, brutal and damaging to their spirits. She seemed to amuse herself in belittling and degrading those who served her. I thank heaven that I was fortunate enough not to have been a domestic servant having to work closely with her and tolerate her insensitivity and cruelty toward our race as well as her impossible disposition which left her incapable of being satisfied. Her condescending and insufferable personality left us feeling that we were barely worthy enough to stand in her presence and that we were totally unworthy to even kiss her feet.

The Wright’s only child, a six year old daughter named Elizabeth, enjoyed considerably the company of the negroes in the quarters. She took for playmates some of the younger children within the slave population. She spent considerable amounts of time in our cabin and was cherished by all of us. The friendships she would form reminded me of my friendship with Will. It also painfully reminded me of his rejection of me after he had come to realize that I was inferior to him. Miss Suzy strongly resented her daughter’s choice of playmates and would adamantly pursue her when she was in our cabin. She pull her ears and would say such things as:

I don’t want you to play with those niggers. Elizabeth, you’re too good to be playing games with them. You’re my little daughter. If you play with them you will become like them You’ll talk like then and act like them. Why don’t you find some white children to play with. The Rosedales have a pretty little girl about your age. I’m sure you would have a lot of fun together.

Such talk however did not prevent little Elizabeth from returning to our cabin time and time again. On the one occasion that she had the opportunity to play with the Rosedale’s daughter, little Mary who was seven, they had almost immediately taken to bickering and then to physically fighting.

The Rosedales, being not as wealthy as the Wrights, had only a small Tobacco farm that was set by a picturesque pond frequented by ducks. They owned only a few slaves.

With the arrival of my mid-teens came the arousal of my interest in forming relationships with members of the opposite sex. The Rosedale plantation formed an important link in quenching these urges. I recall how at fifteen, after the overseer’s horn sounded lights out in the quarters, me Nathan and Ned would sneak out of bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. We would sneak over to the Rosedale plantation where three of the young plantation females, Mathilda, Anabella and Charlotte would be waiting diligently by the pond for our arrival. Together we would just sit there staring at the golden glitter of moonlight against the water and would look up into the vast sky with its endless amounts of stars. Mathilda had taken to Nathan, Anabella had taken to Ned, and I had taken to Charlotte, a wonderful light skinned beauty whose eyes sparkled in the moonlight. She had long silky black hair that flowed over her shoulders. Together we would sit, whispering romantically into each other’s ears while affectionately holding the hands of our sweethearts and basking in the pleasure of each other’s company and in the joy of young love. We would often fornicate right there in the grass underneath the stars, thus the creation of my first sexual encounters. I later learned that Charlotte owed her impressively beautiful light skin and her long silky black hair to her being the daughter of Mr. Rosedale himself.

I would lay awake at night thinking of her unsurpassed beauty. Then I would fall asleep and dream about her. I would dream that we were both free and that we were running hand in hand through a field of the most beautiful flowers imaginable. Tulips, Violets, and Roses would tickle our bare feet as we ran our faces beaming with our youthful exuberance and joie de vivre. I would then wake up and begin counting the hours until our next encounter. At the mere mention of her name a twinkle would loom in my eye and a smile would cross my lips.

I recall the first time that I realized that I was in love. It was when instead of our usual pondside encounters we decided to take a walk just the two of us. We walked several miles in the dark starlit night. Hand in hand, we walked until we arrived close to the home of the honorable Judge Avery Gomer. Close to his property stood three huge apple trees. We picked apples from one of them and ate giggling in our adolescent joy. She kissed me under that apple tree. There in the serenity of the Tennessee night for the first time in my life the words I love you flowed from my lips.

Then we fornicated underneath that apple tree. An apple or two would fall upon us but we would only giggle uncontrollably as we pleasured in the ecstasy given by our youthful passionate bodies. Then we noticed the approaching dawn and ran back to our plantations. The next day I was flogged by our overseer, Damien Trollup, for low performance in the fields due to exhaustion resulting from a sleepless night. This was a cold and harsh reminder of the state of my bondage. Nevertheless, the harshness of slavery seemed adequately composed now that a significant other existed in my life.

That weekend there was a plantation party. The neighboring Rosedale plantation was invited to partake of the festivities. In spite of my own personal invitation to Charlotte, she was unable to come because she was being punished by Mr. Rosedale for having been caught coming home at dawn. Nathan and Ned eagerly anticipated the arrival of their pretty young girlfriends as they made themselves handsome by wearing their finest clothes and grooming themselves meticulously. Torches lit the dark night as the slaves gathered for the festivities. With the Wright mansion looming in the distance ominously in the background, the party commenced. First, as it was customary, was the telling of tales that were meant to send chills up the spines of all its listeners. There would also be a session of riddles. Then would come the Juba. This would involve the slaves clapping their hands and striking one hand on the knee which created a rhythm by which the slaves would sing harmoniously and dance to songs such as this one:

No more rain fall for wet you Halleluyah

No more sun shone for burn you Halleluyah

Dere’s no hard trails

Dere’s no hard trails

Dere’s no whips a crackin’

No evil doer’s in the kingdom

All is gladness in the kingdom

And merrily we danced and consumed alcohol and for the first time I felt the numbness resulting from my slight intoxication. As part of the Juba ritual the slaves would form a circle and a couple would dance in the center while the rest of the slaves would continue the Juba rhythm and dance around them. After Nathan and Mathilda had entered the circle and then Ned and Anabella, I stood wondering with whom I should enter being that Charlotte, my sweetheart was not present. Upon my decision not to enter the circle, I was suddenly grabbed by the arm and led into the center by a lovely young fourteen year old by the name of Sissy. Sissy had lovely honey brown skin and the prettiest smile I had ever seen on a human being. Together we danced keeping time to the rhythm, laughing as we gained the approval of our spectators. Afterward she took me aside and said:

I is been noticin’ you ever since the day you came here as an eleven year old boy. I tried to speak with you at that corn-shucking that day but it look like that light skinned girl was all that was on your head. In all my days I ain’t never seen no boy that tickles my fancy the way that you does.

I was bewildered in my still somewhat inebriated state for it was unusual and not customary for a female to initiate courtship, however I was flattered to the utmost degree.

Sissy, I replied, You is more pretty than the leaves in Autumn and the dandelions in the Spring. From the first day I seen you as an eleven year old boy from Georgia, I knew dat someday you would grow up to be a beautiful princess and today looking at you I sees dat I was right. Seein’ you smile does somethin’ to me dat almost stop my heart from beatin.

After the festivities ended we went to the barn and fornicated passionately in the hay loft. As time wore on I began to realize that I had strong feelings for Sissy. In the meantime my encounters with Charlotte continued. This created great confusion for me as I was constantly asking my master for permission to go to the Rosedale plantation. Sissy would confront me with this situation by saying:

How come you is always going to that Rosedale plantation? You love that light skinned girl don’t you? I knowed it from the start. I was hoping that ever since you and me got together you would be forgetting her.

Sissy, I said I’ve been growin’ to care a lot about you, but I ain’t gonna lie to you, I still be lovin’ Charlotte.

Cornelius, she said What can I do to make you forget that girl? I loves you and I thought you loved me.

I do, Sissy I do I said

Well then you is just gonna have to make a choice. You can’t keep on seein’ both Charlotte and me.

Why not? I asked.

She just looked at me harshly and then turned away.

I’s be willing to wait however long it takes, but I ain’t gonna be waitin forever." She said.

Oh Sissy, I’m all mixed up. I don’t know if I can make a choice like dat. It’s kinda like choosin’ between your mammy and your pappy.

No it ain’t, you ain’t sleeping with them.

You know what I mean. I responded sounding defeated.

Well if you don’t make it Cornelius, I’m gonna have to make it for you. I’m gonna have to find me another boy. She said.

C’mon Sissy I loves you. The thought of you with another boy kills me. I said.

How do you think I feels when I sees the boy I loves with another girl. Don’t you think that kills me too. My sun rises and sets on you and you is seein’ another girl.

I knew that she was right and that what I was doing was an injustice to both of the girls and that I would have to find a way to commit myself totally to one of them. This also meant that I would have to reject one of them thus causing them great pain. I felt as though I would prefer to cause physical harm to myself than to hurt either of the girls whom I had grown to care so much for.

Later on in the cabin before bedtime, Nathan and Ned were sitting around discussing their latest female conquests with Nellie, their mother, when Ned turned in my direction