When interviewed, James Childress was living with John Bell at 312 Southeast 5th Street in Evansville. According to his obituary in the Evansville Courier (December 17, 1941), he died on December 16, 1941, leaving “no known survivors.” Locally known as Uncle Jimmie, he never tired of telling stories of his childhood. Born in Nashville, Tennessee, in 1860, he remembered some exciting events of Civil War days as related to him by his own family and by the family of James Childress, his owner. He remembered sorrowful days when his Uncle Johnnie and Uncle Bob started off to war, but he also recalled happier days when the Cumberland Valley was beautifully carpeted with bluegrass and wildflowers.
Although James could not recall any occasion when his master was cruel to a slave, he remembered that the slaves always prayed to God for freedom, and that black preachers always preached about the day when the slaves would be free and happy. He sang a stanza of “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” and said that it related to God’s setting the blacks free. James’s story follows:
When I was a child, my daddy and mama was slaves, and I was a slave. A beautiful view could always be enjoyed from the hillsides, and there were many pretty homes belonging to the rich citizens. Slaves kept the lawns smooth and tended the flowers for miles around Nashville when I was a child. We was all well fed, well clothed, and lived in good cabins. The slaves at Mr. Childress’s place were allowed to learn as much as they could. Several of the young men could read and write. Our master was a good man and did no harm to anybody.
I never got a cross word from Marse John in my life. When the slaves got their freedom, they rejoiced and stayed up many nights to sing, dance, and enjoy themselves. Although they still depended on old Marse John for food and bed, they felt too excited to work in the fields or care for the stock. They hated to leave their homes, but Mr. Childress told them to go out and make homes for themselves.
Mother got work as a housekeeper and kept us all together. Uncle Bob got home from the war, and we lived well enough. I have lived at Evansville since 1881, have worked for a good many men, and John Bell will tell you I have had only friends in the city of Evansville.
My people loved God; they sang sacred songs. “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” was one of the best songs they knew.