Name/Title
Uncle Jake's Freedom, Short Story by Mary Alicia OwenEntry/Object ID
AM2013.3.71Scope and Content
Uncle Jake's Freedom, Short Story by Mary Alicia Owen. About a black butler in St. Joseph. 2 handwritten pages and 13 typewritten.
For Transcript, click on the Multimedia button on top menu, then open the Word File.Context
Uncle Jakes Freedom
There was in our Town until a few years ago, a colored gentleman- I use the term advisedly-whose place we cannot fill. It is not alone that we have no one to act as butler protem at our dinner and teas with the dignity of an Anglican bishop; nor that there is now, no high steward of our church festivals who can be relied on to keep an eye on borrowed flat silver and return it to the respective owners without the displacement of a single teaspoon; nor that we can have the nonchilance of security that if the church went up in flames or the funnel of a cyclone and the register with it all the missing data of births, baptism, marriages, and deaths could be supplied by Uncle Jake; We have, in addition lost our last pre-war chroicler. Facts remain to us in the pages of industrious historians but they are dead and dry, not the dramatic recitals that held breathless the boys and girls of successive generation. Compare them, for instance, with his back-porch Odyssey of the evening hour, when our beloved "uncle" relaxed from his official dignity:
"Is yo' gwine to quit yo' havishness, or is yo' aint? Ef yo' aint, I is aimin' to tip back my cheer an' git me some restiveness in a nap. Sich scuffin' an' scrougin' aint de way yo' pas an' mass was cussomed to act when dey useter 'semmle round me terlissen 'bout ole times.
"Yo' is gwine to mind yo' manners like ez if yo' was degenerated from de' quality 'stid o' de harf-strainer, is you? Well den! I reckin I mought perceed to preamble 'bout how I 'arned my freedom an' my fambly's 'thout pesticatin' Mist' Linkum none.
"I aint layin' off to menander much, but I'se jist nachelly boun' to menander 'way back to Ferginny whah my Marse Tomlinson an' me was borned, bofe on de same day, jist lak two colts, in de springtime o' de year. We was named on dat same day, lak-all-wisw, bofe foh our daddies-him foh Majah Bedford an' me foh Unc Jake. We was bofe de onlist sons, too, 'caze Miss Ma'y Calline was risin fo'teen when Marse Tomlinson was bornded, an' she was de sole lonesome chile Marse Majah an' Ole Mistis had up to date time, an' me, I was de onliest chile Unc Jake evvah did have, all dem lil' niggahs older'n me 'longin' to Mammy's fust an' secon' husbuns, Mammy pickin' an leavin' husbuns des ez she felt lak, pon 'count o' bein' han'some ez a June-apple an' cook up at de big house whah dee was heaps o' fine leavin's. "'Scusin' me, chilluns, what was I at? When de ole man gits his min' a-ram'lin'an' a scram'lin' erroun' on good ole days he jist nachelly gits all fogged up. Well! ez I was a-sayin', Marse Tomlinson an' me, we growed up back dar in Mason County, an', des, befo' de big doin's dat was to cilebration Marse Tomlinson being' twenty-one, Marse Majah Tomlinson Bedford, he up an' died! Yes, suhs, he did! Fell right offen his hawse at de hitchin' block an' was stone-daid when dey car'd him into de house.
"Ole Mistis, she des tuck one look at 'im an' walked out o' de room an' hed Nancy-dat was huh own ppussonal yaller gal-putt to baid, f'om which she nevvah did git up, dough she hung on foh mos' a yeah.
"Arter she was token, Marse Augustine Bland, whut hed ma'ied Miss Ma'y Calline an' gone back to Page County an' he would, twell he got hit wound up so tight hit wouldn't go any mo', an' Marse Tominson, he foun' he didn't have much o' anythin' lef' but his huntin' hawse, a long red silk moneypuss his ma knit him, an' me.
"'I'll buy dat wufless niggah offen yo' an' teach 'im to wuk', says Marsh Augustine.
"somehow, I nevvah tuck to dat man!
"He was o' de fust famblies same ez we all was-we nevvah let no half-strainehs in 'mongst us-but, I nevvah tuck to 'im. Nur to Miss Ma'y Calline neider, to tell de trufe. Seem lak she jealoused Marsh Tomlinson, huh havin' had huh own way so long an' den him a-comin' de honed-foh boy at las'. Many
s de time I is seed huh obfusticatin' huh min' wid de black t'oughts, but Marse Tomlinson nevvah did. He was des lak se sunshiny day he was borned on.
"'No, I wont sell Jake', says Marsh Tomlinson. "I'll sell my hawsw, an' we'll git out o' hyeah.
"Which we done, right off, gettin' to de Ohio Ribber in de stage, 'stid o' gallopadin' on hawseback lak we done befo' we got wound up. Yessuhs, an' den Marse Augustine otter a seed de' wufless niggah' gittin'big wages on de steamboats atter givin' Marse Tomlinson de hints notter let on to de captains an' mates dat I was hisn, lessen dey' clects offen us foh my espenses 'stid o' payin' me good money.
"Yessuhs, we want a-puffin' an a-peraudin' down two ribbers an' up on, an' thas how come we is landed at St. Joe whah is livin' Marse Billy Bedford. I reckon I aint esplain dat Marse Billy, he is de on writin' to Marse Tomlinson while de windin' I done tole you 'bout was gwine on, to come out into de new lan' an' make hiss'ef a forchin. Yessucks, he de ve'y one done dat, an' he was down dar at de levee when de boat wa'ped in an' token us home 'ith 'im, him des lately gittin' ma'ied to Miss Millie Stewaht an' settin' up housekeepin'.
"Lawd, Lawd, dat's a long way back!
"Marse Tomlinson, he mighty soon 'cepted a persition wif Mist' Hull and Mist' Cyartah foh to write out all dat dey tcuk in an' sold out, an' de same gent'mens guv me de job o'haulin' de goods back an' fo'th twixt de steamboats an' stages an' de place whah de freight teams sot out f'om.
"Dem was de stirrin' times, sho nuff, an' when I shet eyes I c'n see em yit, plain ez plain. 'Twas in de fall o' eighteen hundred an' fawty-nine, an dat's why I been called a Fawty-nineh eevah sence. Hit seem lak de whole worl' done 'sem'le heah to but outfittin', ez dey name hit, an' de 'casion ob hit was dat de word been passed erroun' dat dey was gold des-a-stickin' up outen de ground 'way out in Californy on Kunnel Sutter's place an' findins was keepins, because de kunnel was so rich he didn't pesticate hisse'f to bend his back an' pick none o' dem noggets up. Yessuhs, hit sho was mighty lively. Sto'keepers dat use ter bin satisfied to sell caliker an' chinches by de yahd an' sen' a boy to pack home de bunnel, was sellin by de bolt an' bale an' ez uppity 'bout lettin' folks ez ef day was givin' de goods away. De steamboats was puffin' in by de dozen, bring' folks dey was no room foh an' freight dat de sto'keepehs was full to bustin' an' sidsen dat folks was in tents down in de low groun' des lak de army o' de wah dat come lateh, on'y mo' ob a crowd an' wif women an' chilluns an' grammawa an' grampas lookin' lak Mefuzelum. My soul, yes! an' some ob' em' got away wif dey big white top wagins an' hawses an' oxen an' dry vittles, an' some ob 'em didn't. I seed mo' dan one big man bust right out a-crying' when told dey was nothin' for him yit an' groan out dat he dunno' whut in Gord's name he gwine ter do, he done sold his home an' his bizniz, an' he got his fambly along usin' up what dey hed foh outfittin' an' dey cain't go back an' dey cain't be forrids.
Well, suhs! fust t'ing I knowed Marse Tomlinson, he ketched de fevah f'om Marse Billy. He'd been a-plannin' we-d save up an' go home an' buy back Beauty, owah huntin' hawse, an' s'prise de folks, an'
'nen he des nachilly quit an' gun ter talk erbout de lan' o' gold des ez ef he uz kotin' de bible an' he follored dat up ith talk o' de climick gittin' onhealthy an' de s'picion dat cholera was on de way.
"I seen whut was in de wind. 'Twuzzen't no supprise to me when he says, "Git yo' duds into yo' cyarpit-bag an' hurry Jake. We've had de luck to jine a train an' ouah agins is at de ferry right now.'
"We went, but we hed bad luck f'om de staht. Fust off, de folkswhut run de ferry gun us some mighty ompleasant news ez we hilt de hawses an' oxen onter de boat. Dey said de kentry-hit's Kansas now, but 'twas Injun Te'ito'y den-wuz mighty putty in de Spring, but all wizzled up by de dryniss come Fall, an' dat de Injuns was a-sayin' dat dey done been scrouged offen one side de Missouri Ribber an' now de white folks was aimin' to scrouge 'em offen de turrer, an' dey aint gwine ter stan' hit. Yessuhs! an' den dey went on progrosticatin' date f we 'scaped de Injuns an' don' git pizend to def by de watteh in dem dirty lil ribbers, we gwine to freeze to def when we git to de mountins, 'case hit's snowin' dar now.
"Talk don't break no bones, but happens do. We haint been on de way mo' 'n a week when Marse Billy an' a fine young gent'man by de name o' Loan bofe tuck sick in de night an' was bofe daid by de broke o' day, an' we wropped 'em in blankets an' bu'ied 'em den an' dar, lessen de folks git skeered dat dey hed cholera an' hit ketchin'.
"Dat wasn't a patch on de quilt to whut was on de way.
"Dat se'f same day, long todes evenin', Miz Simmons, de wife o'de man dat druv de team nex' mine, she up an' died an' de po' lil baby, too, an' we bu'ied 'em whilst de res' was eatin' suppeh.
"I kep' a-baiggin' an' a-baiggin' to tuhn back an' Marsh Tomlison kep' a refusin' an' refusin'.
"Cousin Mollie haz gone to Kaintucky', he tole me, an' she'll not know 'bout Billy twell nex' Spring. Meanwhiles, I got to go git de gole an' 'vide wif huh, for most all Billy hed was 'vested in dis hyuh train. I'se wishin' foh de eend my ownse'f, so don't pesticate me mo'n I kin stand'.
"Well, suhs, de eend was right dar!
"We was past de Blue Ribber an' settled down foh de night nigh to dat lil branch dat runs f'om de west into de Blue. De oomans an' de chilluns an' de ve'y ole mens was in de middle ob de camp, nex' was de wagins an' de beasties an' o de outside was de fightin' men eif guns. De cookin' fiahs was lighted an' one o' de cooks gun me two big tin pails an' tole me go git watteh foh to make de coffee. De sun was set, but, dez ez I was goin' ter scoff up de watteh in de fust pail, I seed one o' dese hyur gray moccasin snakes a-swinnin' dar. 'fo do Lawd! I see ter myse'f, 'I don' want no coffee made f'om whu a snake's hed a baf in', so, I crope a good piece up-stram, holdin' to de bushes an' tryin' not ter git my feet wet.
"All on de sudden, dey was de turriblest soun's. Dey was de Injuns wah-cries, but I aint knowed hit den. I 'gun ter scammle, but befo' I c'd git up de bank dey was de shout, 'Injuns! Injuns!' an' de poppin' o' guns, de squealin' o' hawses, de bawlin' o' cattle an; de screamin' o' de oomans an' chilluns.
I was dat skeered I rolled down de bank and plum in the de watteh. Mebbe, I laid dar, I dunno. Whut I knows is dat when I made out ter dcammle up de bank a ways I aint heah nuffin 'cept de Injuns.
"Bime-by, de sky is all lit up wif red fiah-flame, an' I sensed the dey was buhnin' up whut dey aintgot no use foh.
"Dey hollerins an' gwines-on kep' up mos' all night.
"Den, de flame an' de ruckus died down an' putty soon I heahed 'em gallopadin' off.
"I des stuck whah I was at, twell daylight, in de bushes, down de bank.
"Den I crope up an' peeped oveh de aige.
"Den, I riz up an' tuck a look!
:Des one look an' I was so sick I axed de Lawd might I die!
"Hit was a long time twell I went a trimblin' forrads, an' den 'twas becase I seen a big black buhd (bird) was gwine ter' 'light.
"I fiun' Marse Tomlinson an' some yutheh gent'mens at de haid o' de gully dat hilt de oomans an' chilluns.
"Daid?- Yessuhs. Don' ax me whut else is don on dem corpuses.
"I didn't had no spade, no nuffin ter dig with, but I went back to de crick an' fotched de big pail an' scoofed up dry dust an' ashes an' kivehed up all dem in de gully de bes' whut I could.
"Dey was one mo' dat I kiverd, an' den I des' nachilly runned off. Dat one was Mist' Stratton, brother-in-Law to Majah Billy Richardson whut kep' de new hotel in St. Joe. Miz Stratton, she died, so lef' de baby wif huh susteh dat was Miz Richardson an' went foh ter seek his fochin, an' beholes! dis was hit. He was tied ter a wagin-wheel dat was hilt up by a broke axle, an' he was buhnt to def, but dey was 'nuff lef' so dat I knowed 'im. Yessuhs, I kivehed him, an' den, I runned away.
"What did I run? I dunno. I was 'stracted. Someun on a wagin headed dis way, seen me a-layin' on de ground an' picked me up for an' fotched me hyeah, an' Doc Silas McDonald tuck'n kyored me up. Yessyhs, an' den, Majah Richardson, he sont foh me an' atter I done tole 'im 'bout Mist' Stratton dat was lil Marse Billy Stratton's pa, he gimme de job o' waitin' on de cook-fetchin' in the wood, scourin knives, sassin' de butcheh-boy when de eat was tough, an' de likes.
"Hit was de pleasant doin's, but I had ter quit. I heh Doc Sykes a-sayin', 'Whut's ter be done, I dunno! Dem folks down in de camp is dyin' lak flies, 'ith de cholera, an' nobody dast ter bu'y 'em.' At dat, I got studin' 'bout dem I runned off an' lef' out yondah, an' I says, 'I'm willin' ter bu'y 'em, Doctah.' I t'ought ef so be I he'p out now, hit 'ud make up foh dat.
"Dey was des two ob us went down dar, ma an' a Irisher. Mike Mack, he gun is s'ef de intitlement, an' his blood was red ez his head, I boun' yo', foh he tuck de lead whah I was putty nigh skeered ter foller.
"We didn' haf ter do ni diggin'. Plenty 'ud dig de pits when de wind didn' blow f'om de camp, but go fetch de corpuses, 'r fill up de pits, dey 'ud not.
"De cemetery was a strip o' sandy lan' bechuxt a lil grove an' deribber. Hit was choosed bekase de s'le was not stiff lak de black gumbo futheh oveh. Mike Mack an' me, we tucken de bodies dar in de middle o' de night. We went ter de campwif a strecheh on a dray an' we druv slow thisaway an' thataway, a-callin' out.
"'Bring o-u-t ua' daid! Bring o-u-t ya' daid!'
"Sometimes, we hed ter go in when nobody was in a tent but a ooman, ur a lantern buhnin' by de daid an' de livin' runned away.
"At de fust, we hed pine coffins, but when hit was at de worst we des wropped 'em in blankets an' bu'ied 'em des so. Well, nemmine' de ribber got 'em all. She changed huh co'se an' washed in de cemetery an' de lil grove, too."I aint sayin' all de folks was skeered o' de po' campehs. Doc Sykes, Doc Blake, Doc McDonald, Doc Crane an' some I fegit 'tended 'em, an' some o' ladies cyar'd 'em sick vittles, whut wasn' no 'count, I s'pect, foh de good intintions. Dey was Miz Cargill an Miz Kempeh, an' Miz Sykes an' mo' dat I don' 'rickollect.
"Wehn I was th'u' down dar, I hed de bigges' scare, yit. I was a-stannin' on de corndeh 'cross f'om de hotel, an' a big man in a big wagin druv up an' says ter me, says he, 'Hi, boy, you is a stray, an' strays b'longs in de pound, but I is intioned ter save you f'om dat an' set you a-wuhkin' in de hemp-fiel'. Git in de wagin an' be quick erbout hit.' I aint know ef dat's de law, but I is mighty onwillin' ter 'base myse'f inter a common niggah fiel' han, so I thanked de good Lawd when I seed Majah Richardson come out de hotel do', an' I runned clippity-clip 'cross ter him an' axed is I boun' ter go. He was so 'stonished dat he drapped his seegar an' den he says I is free, free bekase I airnt freedom, whut was mo'n most folks done.
Dat sot me a-studyin', I been meanin' ter go back an' but Beauty wif de money de dotehs hed de city pay me foh de bu'yin's, but now I feared. Whut ef Marse Augustine tuck me up foh a stray!
"No, suhs, I des stay whah I is at!
"Nex' off, I ma'ies Mist' Shadrack Wages' Lucy.
"De nex' yeah, we hez a son. In cose, dey is des one name foh him, but atter he's babsized I 'gun ter feel quambly. Heaps o' boys goes wrong, an' 'twould' neveh do ter peerade de name o' Tomlinson in de tenpenchery ur de calaboose. Howsomedevveh, he hilt de name squar'ly an' is teachin' school to dis day.
De hyea atter dat, come Mefoozelum, name pon count he so stout he look lak he gwine live ez long ez a profick. I t'ought he'd preach de gospel, but, shuckins! Dey aint nuffin in a name. He makes de beds in a sleepin'-cyah.
"When Mefoozelum gits ter walkin' mighty airly an' I was feelin' putty biggity, all on a suddint somepin des hit me lak a brick. Says me ter mys'f, 'Jake, yo' bodacious simppyton, dem sassy young un saint yo'n. De coolts goes wif de dam. De chilluns yo' is so uppity erbout is de pussonal propity o' Mist' Wages.'
"I didn' sleep none dat night.
"De nex' day, in de dull time, soon atter dinneh whut de ladies calls 'ruch' dese days, I got de hair cook ter 'scuse me- I was riz up ter secon' cook by dat time-an' sot out ter fin' Mist' Wages. He wasn't at de stables whah at he kep' his trottin' hawses, an' one o' de cuffehs tole me dat he was home packin' up ter move back ter Ole Kaintucky.
"Den, I des loped!
"I found' 'im on de back steps, smokin' lak a chimly.
"'Mist' Wages' I says, ''scuse me me foh disruptin yo', but de wo'd been pass eroun' dat yo' is gwine back ter Kaintucky.'
" 'Dat's de trufe', he says. 'My grampa lef' me a prop'ity an' I is gwine back ter manage hit. Want toe go 'long?
" 'No, suh, Mist' Wages, I aint cravin' ter go nowhurs', I 'spons back. 'I got sumfin diffunt terax yo'.'
" 'Go ahead', he says, when i des stood theh, a-swallerin'.
" 'Mist' Wages', I fetches out, atter tryin' atime ur two, 'yp' hez a cullud gal name Lucy'.
"I is o' de same opinion as yo' spressify', he says back.
" 'An' she hez a couple o' chilluns', I says, an' 'nen stops foh ter mop off my face 'ith my big bandanny han'kercher.
" 'I s'picioned ez much', he says, 'when I seed two lil niggahs rollickin' round in my back yahd.'
" 'Dem chilluns aint valuesome a tall, 'deed dey aint, Mist' Wages, dey's got de hookin' cough', I says. "Ef dey live ter git th'ough hit, dey's gwine ter be a mos' onouseless espense ter yo'.'
" 'Is yo' wantin me ter sell yo' dey hides?' Mist Wages axes des dry so.
" 'Shoh! Mist' Wages, I know you des a-foolin'. I says. ' "In cose, I don' want 'em shun, I des want ter take 'em offen yo' han's an' save yo' trob', but de main puppose o' de hinterveiwins is ter git de reaomblest price foh Lucy an' save de 'noyunce o' totin' huh ter Kaintucky. What am de lowes' figgah foh dat gal, please, suh?"
" 'She was wuth fo' hun'erd dollahs, yiste'day, he 'spon's, 'but, she felled offen a step-laddeh, dis mawnin, an' bustid huh laig an' twustid huh wris'. I reckon yo' know dat.'
" "I didn' know dat an' I tole 'Im so an' stahted foh de cabin down at de foot o' de gyahdin, whah she slep.'
"He hollered at me ter come back, she was all splinched up by de doctah an' feelin' easy, so, back I scuffled an' bought huh offen 'im an' de chilluns th' owed in' seein' she caynt possumbly be moved 'ith huh white folks.
"I gun a hund'ed dollahs foh de lot, an' was might proud dat I git sitch a bahgain, seein' dat Lucy an' de chilluns was bofe ez good ez new in less's six weeks, but, when de wah comed on an' all de niggahs was sot free, I was mad dat I was'e my money.
"Well! countin' spent money is des a plum loss o' time, an' Lucy's been wuf a heap mo'n ten gole pieces ter me. I boun' yo' she hez ez good a ha'p an' crown ez ennybuddy up dar.
"Whut comed o' Miz Mollie Bedford, is yo, axin' me? W-e-e-ll! I don' des prezackly know. She ma'ied a ve'y rich name o' McLaughlin. He wasn' o' one o' de famblies ouah folks was 'customed ter ma'y, so I des drapped de' quaintence.Lexicon
Search Terms
St. Joseph Legends, St. Joseph History, Owen Sisters, St. Joseph AuthorsRelationships
Related Person or Organization
Person or Organization
Mary Alicia Owen
