After freedom his mammy and daddy returned to 'ole Marster's' plantation and he and the other seven children lived with them and worked for 'Marse Bill'.
The old fellow is very superstitious and firmly believes that the "squinch" owl's note is a "sho sign o' death."
Henderson says that he is able to work and that he cleans yards, cuts wood, and does almost any kind of job [HW: that] he can find.
Henderson Harris 808 E. Slaton Avenue Griffin, Georgia September 23, 1936.
Uncle Shang Harris Toccoa, Georgia (Stephens County)
"Uncle Shang" Harris, at the age of 97, is more vigorous than many men twenty years younger. Erect and stocky, holding his white woolly head high, he retains the full favor of living. When the interviewer entered his cabin he rose from the supper table wiping from his mouth the crumbs of a hearty meal, and peered uncertainly through the gathering dark.
"Does I 'member 'bout slav'ey times?" His face relaxed into a broad smile, "G-lory, hallelujah, I sho does! I was born den and freed den. What you wanter know? I kin tell you all about it." He led the way to two chairs near the stove.
"My marster was Mr. Bob Alexander. He lived in Franklin County jes' dis side o' Carnesville. He treated me good--yes mam, he sho did. My marster didn't have no beatin' o' his niggers. I didn't do no work back in dem times--nuttin' but play. Me and my sister belonged to de youngest boy (dey was seven boys in dat family) and we jes' climbed trees and frolicked all de time. We had plenty in de eatin' line too.
"But law chile, eve'ybody didn't have dat. Some de marsters tied dey niggers to posts and whupped 'em till dey nigh killed 'em. Lots of 'em run away and hid in de woods. De marsters would put de dogs after you jes' like a coon. Dey'd run you and tree you"--imitating the sound of baying dogs--"oh, glory, hallelujah--dat's de way dey done 'em! I'se seed bare feets all cracked up wid de cold. We don't have no cold weather now. Why, I'se seed big pine trees bust wide open--done froze, and de niggers would be out in dat kind o' weather. But dey'd ruther do dat dan stay and git beat to death. Many a night jes' 'bout dark, I'd be a-settin' in my cabin wid my ole lady (dat was after I got older) and see somebody prowlin' roun' in de bushes, and I'd know hit was some po' nigger was hidin' and didn't had nuttin' to eat. My marster nuse to say, 'Harris, when you see somebody hongry, gi' 'im sumpin' to eat'. We didn't never turn 'em down even when dey look so bad dey was right scarey.