upworthy

black history

Identity

Formerly enslaved man's response to his 'master' wanting him back is a literary masterpiece

"I would rather stay here and starve — and die, if it come to that — than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters."

GOOD

A photo of Jordan Anderson.

In 1825, at the approximate age of 8, Jordan Anderson (sometimes spelled "Jordon") was sold into slavery and would live as a servant of the Anderson family for 39 years. In 1864, the Union Army camped out on the Anderson plantation and Jordan and his wife, Amanda, were liberated. The couple eventually made it safely to Dayton, Ohio, where, in July 1865, Jordan received a letter from his former owner, Colonel P.H. Anderson. The letter kindly asked Jordan to return to work on the plantation because it had fallen into disarray during the war.

On Aug. 7, 1865, Jordan dictated his response through his new boss, Valentine Winters, and it was published in the Cincinnati Commercial. The letter, entitled "Letter from a Freedman to His Old Master," was not only hilarious, but it showed compassion, defiance, and dignity. That year, the letter would be republished in theNew York Daily Tribune and Lydia Marie Child's The Freedman's Book.

The letter mentions a "Miss Mary" (Col. Anderson's Wife), "Martha" (Col. Anderson's daughter), Henry (most likely Col. Anderson's son), and George Carter (a local carpenter).

Dayton, Ohio,
August 7, 1865
To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee

Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jordon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy, — the folks call her Mrs. Anderson, — and the children — Milly, Jane, and Grundy — go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve — and die, if it come to that — than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant,
Jordon Anderson

Learn more about Jordan Anderson here.


This article originally appeared eight years ago.


From Your Site Articles
history
Education

A teen student delivered a masterclass on the true history of the Confederate flag

Christopher Justice broke it down into incredible details most of us probably weren't even aware of.

SM East/YouTube

Christopher Justice schools his classmates.

Six years ago, a high school student named Christopher Justice eloquently explained the multiple problems with flying the Confederate flag. A video clip of Justice's truth bomb has made the viral rounds a few times since then, and here it is once again getting the attention it deserves.

Justice doesn't just explain why the flag is seen as a symbol of racism. He also explains the history of when the flag originated and why flying a Confederate flag makes no sense for people who claim to be loyal Americans.

But that clip, as great as it is, is a small part of the whole story. Knowing how the discussion came about and seeing the full debate in context is even more impressive.


In 2015, a student at Shawnee Mission East High School outside of Kansas City came up with the idea to have student journalists document students engaging in open discussions about various topics. In support of this idea, history teacher David Muhammad helped arrange a debate about the use of the Confederate flag in American society in his classroom.

According to the Shawnee Mission Post, Muhammad had prepared a basic outline and some basic guiding questions for the discussion, but mainly let the students debate freely. The result was one of the most interesting debates about the Confederate flag you'll ever see—one that both reflects the perspectives in American society at large and serves as an example of how to hold a respectful conversation on a controversial topic.

The full discussion is definitely worth a watch. Justice had quite a few Confederacy defenders to contend with, and he skillfully responded to each point with facts and logic. Other students also chimed in, and the discussion is wildly familiar to anyone who has engaged in debate on this topic. For his part, Mr. Muhammad did an excellent job of guiding the students through the debate.

"I had Chris in class, so I knew he was super intelligent and that he read a lot," Muhammad told the Shawnee Mission Post in 2018. "But that really came out of left-field. He was never out there very much socially, so I didn't expect for him to want to speak in front of a crowd like that."

(In case you're wondering, according to his LinkedIn, Christopher Justice graduated from Wichita State University in 2023 with a BS in Political Science and Government. David Muhammad is now Dean of Students at the Barstow School as well as Co-Director of Inclusion, Diversity, and Equity.)

Thanks, SM East, for documenting and sharing such a great discussion.


This article originally appeared three years ago.

From Your Site Articles
culture
Race & Ethnicity

Elizabeth Eckford made history at age 15. Here's the full story behind the iconic photo.

She faced the angry white mob—and the Arkansas National Guard—alone on her first day of high school in 1957. But that was only the beginning.

@ayealiah/Twitter

15-year-old Elizabeth Eckford was one of the Little Rock Nine who attended the first integrated high school in Arkansas.

On September 4, 1957, nine students arrived at Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas for their first day of school. They were bright students, chosen for their academic excellence to attend the most prestigious school in the state. They were there to learn—and to make history as the first Black students to attend the previously all-white school.

They wouldn't enter the school that day, nor for weeks after. Their entrance was barred not only by an angry white mob but by the Arkansas National Guard who were called in by the governor to prevent the students from integrating the school.

Eight of the nine arrived together that first day in a carpool arranged by the local NAACP chapter. One student, 15-year-old Elizabeth Eckford, didn't have a telephone at home and was unable to be reached to learn about the carpool plan. She took the city bus, which dropped her off within two blocks of the school. As she approached, she faced the racist crowd alone.

One photo encapsulated much—but not all—of the moment. We see Eckford being followed by a group of angry white segregationists, but we can't see that they were yelling, "Lynch her! Lynch her!" We can see the Arkansas National Guard, but we can't see that President Eisenhower would have to call in federal troops weeks later to finally get the students into the building. We see Elizabeth Eckford walking with her head high, but we can't see the courage and resolve it took her not to walk through a crowd of people threatening to kill her just for wanting to go to school.

We see a snapshot of a horrific moment in American history, but we can't see what happened after.

After being barred entrance to the school, Eckford tried to return home, but she was unable to go back to the bus stop where she'd been dropped off due to the 250 or so angry white people behind her. She decided to try to get to the next bus stop a block ahead of her.

Buddy Lonesome of the St. Louis Argus described what he had witnessed at the scene: "The mob of twisted whites, galvanized into vengeful action by the inaction of the heroic state militia, was not willing that the young school girl should get off so easily. Elizabeth Eckford had walked into the wolf's lair, and now that they felt she was fair game, the drooling wolves took off after their prey. The hate mongers, who look exactly like other, normal white men and women, took off down the street after the girl."

She would get home eventually. At first, she sat on the edge of the bus stop bench as someone yelled "Drag her over to this tree!" A small group of journalists formed a makeshift barrier between her and the crowd. New York Times reporter Benjamin Fine sat down next to her, put his arm around her and said, "Don't let them see you cry." Later, after being asked if he'd overstepped his professional bounds, Fine replied, "A reporter has to be a human being."

A white woman, Grace Lorch, escorted Eckford onto the bus, but not before she told the crowd that they'd all be ashamed of themselves someday. Eckford was relieved when Lorch got off the bus; her help, though undoubtedly well-intentioned, had only inflamed the hatred of the crowd. (Lorch and her husband would eventually move their family to Canada after facing harassment, job losses, and accusations of being communists for their civil rights activism.)

After exiting the bus, Eckford immediately went to find her mother. She fell into her arms and the two cried together, neither saying a word.

What about the student yelling at Eckford in the photo? Her name was Hazel Bryan—later becoming Hazel Massery. She was the daughter of parents who were unabashed about their racism.

Massery would have a change of heart in the years that followed. She became a follower of the civil rights movement and began to understand how wrong she had been. In 1962 or 1963, she called Eckford to apologize. But she didn't stop there. She left her intolerant church, volunteered with projects to serve underprivileged Black students and single Black mothers, read the works of Cornel West and Shelby Steele and argued about racial issues with her mother.

Eventually, Massery and Eckford realized they had a lot in common as individuals and became friends. They even appeared together on The Oprah Winfrey Show and talked about reconciliation. But the friendship did not last. The rest of the Little Rock Nine had never been fans of the friendship, nor of Massery's appearance at public events about their history. Massery seems to have felt frustrated that Eckford wouldn't absolve her completely of her past racist behavior, and she ultimately cut off ties with her.

Ten years ago, David Margolick, who had interviewed both women multiple times over the years, asked Eckford and Massery to pose together for one last photo. Eckford agreed, but Massery refused.

Both Eckford and Massery are still alive. Eckford celebrated her 80th birthday in October with a small celebration in front of Central High School, with student members of the Civil Rights Memory Project and faculty there to honor her. This is not history from some far distant era. People are alive who saw it happen with their own eyes.

And this isn't even the full scope of the story. The Little Rock Nine spent the school year being brutally harassed even after they were finally allowed into the building. And both Eckford and Massery's stories include many more details, which David Margolick has covered in Vanity Fair and Slate. His storytelling illustrates how the story behind the iconic photo is worse (at the time) and more complex (in the long run) than the simplistic narratives we often hear about the civil rights era and are definitely worth a read.

How does Eckford feel about the photo? She told the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette that she sometimes feels nothing when she sees it and sometimes it bowls her over. But she's never felt good about the photo, nor does she see herself in it the way others do.

"They talk about it as strength," she said, "But I've never considered myself a strong person."

Fair enough. No one should ever have to be strong like that in the first place, especially at 15. May we all remember and learn from this history, and keep working toward a future where racism is truly and fully overcome.


This article originally appeared on 2.5.22

From Your Site Articles
history
Education

The enslaved man who stole a Confederate ship, sailed to freedom and became a U.S. Congressman

In a unanimous bipartisan move, South Carolina will honor Robert Smalls with the state's first statue of a Black American.

Library of Congress (Public Domain)

Robert Smalls led an extraordinary life.

South Carolina's statehouse boasts some two dozen statues honoring individuals from statesmen to "heroes" of the Confederacy, but there's a glaring omission from the lineup. Up until now, the former Confederate state—where the Civil War began at Fort Sumter and where approximately 1 in 4 residents is Black—has never erected an individual monument of a Black American.

In a unanimous bipartisan decision led by Republican Rep. Brandon Cox, Robert Smalls will become the first to be honored in this way, and his heroic life certainly earned him the accolade. As Cox told the Associated Press, "We’ve got a lot of history, good and bad. This is our good history."

Smalls was born into slavery in Beaufort, South Carolina, in 1839. He and his mother lived together in a small cabin behind their enslaver's mansion until Smalls was sent to Charleston at age 12 to be hired out. When the Civil War broke out in 1861, he was in his early 20s and soon found himself an enslaved crewmember of a ship that was contracted out to the Confederate Army. There he was, an enslaved man sailing a steamboat for an army that was fighting to keep him enslaved.


Robert Smalls dressed in a suitRobert Smalls, S.C. M.C. Born in Beaufort, SC, April 1839Library of Congress

Late one night, when the white crewmembers had all gone ashore, Smalls and the other enslaved crewmembers stole the ship with Smalls as pilot. They sailed to a wharf where they picked up their family members, then they made their way north. The sixteen enslaved people aboard managed to sail right on past Fort Sumter and Fort Moultrie, where Confederate forces were stationed, thanks to Smalls donning a captain's hat and knowing the proper signals to give as they passed. He steered the ship to the naval blockade and turned the ship over to the U.S. Navy.

The enslaved crew and their families were now free Americans.

But Smalls didn't stop there. He provided valuable intelligence to the Union since he knew the Confederate waters well and served for the remainder of the war. He became the first Black person to serve as a pilot for the U.S. Navy and fought 17 Civil War battles as the captain of the very ship he has stolen.

His status as war hero was solidified. But he didn't stop there, either.

large white plantation homeRobert Smalls' house in Beaufort, South CarolinaPublic Domain

He returned to Beaufort in 1864 and used the reward money he's received from turning over the Confederate ship to buy the home of his former enslaver at a tax auction. In just three years, Smalls had gone from enslaved man to war hero and owner of his former owner's property.

And he became well known for it. He started his own business and advocated for public education. The people of Beaufort saw him as a leader and he began to rise politically. He served as a delegate to the State Constitutional Convention in 1868, then as a state representative, then state senator, then as a delegate to the Republican National Convention, and finally as a representative in the U.S. Congress.

He ended up serving five terms in the House of Representatives during the Reconstruction Era, when Black Americans voted in large numbers for the first time and were elected to government positions. According to the National Parks Service, Beaufort was viewed as a symbol of successful Reconstruction policies, with formerly enslaved people engaging in education, politics, and land ownership in the former Confederate county.

- YouTubeyoutu.be

However, the glory of that era didn't last as white Southerners regained political power. By the time Smalls died in 1915, segregation laws were widespread and the freedom that had been so hard won for Black Americans in the South had been curtailed. Even Smalls' incredible life story was largely forgotten by the "Lost Cause" rewriting of Civil War history.

However, the 21st century has seen historians setting the record straight and uplifting heroes like Robert Smalls who have not gotten the national recognition they deserve. After years of lobbying by the community of Beaufort to have Smalls and the reality of the Reconstruction Era recognized, January 2017, President Barack Obama issued an executive order establishing Reconstruction Era National Monument (now known as Reconstruction Era National Historical Park) in Beaufort County in January 2017.

And now South Carolina will erect a statue in Smalls' honor on the grounds of the statehouse. It's worth noting that the idea has been floated for years with bipartisan and biracial support, but had always faced some quiet opposition. Now it looks like everyone's on board, so it's just a matter of working out the exact design and location for the statue.

It's been a long time coming, but South Carolina is finally highlighting history we can all be proud of—a historic step in the right direction.

From Your Site Articles
history
Trending Stories