Tag Archives: slavery

Visiting The Liberty Bell

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Seeing the Liberty Bell in person has long been a bucket list item so I was grateful that we had a good experience visiting last Saturday. I wanted to go because it is incredibly symbolic in US history and rightfully so. In case you don’t remember from school, the Liberty Bell was commissioned by the Pennsylvania Assembly in 1751 to mark the 50th anniversary of William Penn’s Charter of Privileges. This is the bell that rang on July 8, 1776 to summon Philadelphia citizens for the public reading of the Declaration of Independence.

The bell is easily recognizable for its iconic crack and attracts millions of people each year. Today, it is available for public viewing in a nice building across the cobblestone street from its original location – the bell tower in the former Pennsylvania State House which we now call Independence Hall.

No living person knows exactly when the crack began and none have heard it ring with its clapper. The US Park Service says the crack likely formed in the 1840s and that local metal workers attempted to repair the bell in 1846. The repair attempt actually made the situation worse and a second crack formed, silencing the bell forever. 

These are the stories we are taught here in America. 

Ironically, 1846 was the same year that a Pennsylvania representative named David Wilmot proposed legislation meant to bar the expansion of slavery into lands acquired after the Mexican American War. The legislation failed and worsened North-South tensions around the same time the symbol for national liberty was irreversibly damaged. 

What we don’t consider is how the LIberty Bell is viewed by others. The NPS does a decent job of suggesting that it has meant different things to different groups of American people. A photo of Chief LIttle Bear with the Liberty Bell at the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition in San Francisco tells a much different story than the narrative of freedom and liberty for all. This member of the Blackfeet Tribe stares at the camera with piercing eyes that suggest he didn’t care much for the American notion that segregation or assimilation that suppressed his people’s cultural practices were the only options for coexisting.

An iron collar and chains used to literally hold slaves in bondage tells another story as well. 

Social movements including Women’s Suffrage and Civil Rights embraced the Liberty Bell for protest and celebration, giving the bell increasingly profound meaning as groups that were not given freedoms by the founding fathers labored to claim what was rightfully theirs.

I found myself feeling some mixture of shame and pride for my country’s choices across the centuries and something akin to bittersweet as I began to drill down to the changing importance of this national symbol. 

Americans and people of many other nationalities were there that morning – some looked bored, others excited. Many seemed to just want an Instagram photo while others wanted to linger. But nothing prepared me for the amount of people from other countries and the excitement they held for being so close to the Liberty Bell. 

I overheard an elderly man who spoke good English with an Indian accent ask a question of a park ranger. He told the ranger that he had dreamed of seeing the Liberty Bell and could hardly believe he was there. I overheard a dad and young daughter speaking a language I did not recognize. He was pointing excitedly and she was smiling as he told her some story. I still wish I knew what they were saying. 

It made me wish more American families showed such interest in our own nation’s history. 

Our good experience was made possible by our being early risers and curious people who believe you can always sleep when you get home from a trip. We were in line right after they opened and it took just 2-3 minutes to get through security. From there, we took our time studying everything on display and waited for a couple of other parties to take their pictures before we got ours. 

This was a stark contrast to the line we saw later in the day. It extended well down the sidewalk and the view through the window showed a line of people simply streaming past the bell. In other words, go early to avoid the crowds and have a much richer experience. 

This was a good start to the day. From here, we went on to the Ben Franklin Museum, the Betsy Ross House, Christ Church and Independence Hall with numerous stops to look at other things along the way. It was a busy day and one I won’t soon forget. 

Keep coming back. There are more stories to tell!

Looking Back

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A recent trip to the John Gee Black Historical Center got me thinking about this story from Concord Church near Frankfort, Ohio two years ago. It’s a moving place and worth a revisit. Click here to have a read and give it some thought.

John Gee Black Historical Center

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Everyone has a story to tell. Every person living or dead has something valuable to share. It’s those stories that make up the fabric of who we are as people and as a culture. That’s what history is about.

History class teaches us to learn names and dates but memorizing facts isn’t what makes history meaningful. It’s the stories of the people, both the extraordinary and the ordinary, that make our history rich.

Perhaps that’s why I was so taken with the John Gee Black Historical Center in Gallipolis. It’s located in the John Gee African Methodist Episcopal Chapel near downtown.

The church and its builder have entire stories of their own which I will share another day. For today’s purpose, what you need to know is that this lovely old church was transformed into a history center.

Let’s start with some questions.

Have you ever heard of Ohio’s Black Laws? Did you know that blacks once had to register to live in Ohio? Did you know that schools, movie theaters and swimming pools in Ohio were segregated just the same as those in the south? Have you ever heard of blue vein laws?

Have you ever considered the terror that an escaped slave felt when they stood on the shores of the Kanawha River and fled to Ohio in search of freedom? Where did they go? Who helped them?

These are just a few of the things you will learn about when you visit.

I really didn’t know what to expect when I walked through those doors. What I found were two lovely ladies who welcomed me like an old friend.

The walls are lined with glass cases, photos and artifacts. The ladies accompanied me, telling me about John Gee who was considered a respectable black man, a great carpenter and a community minded citizen. What most people didn’t know is that he spent his free time and his own resources aiding folks on the run.

They shared stories about artifacts and gave an overview of what it was like to be a black person in Ohio in the nineteenth century. Ohio was a free state but it wasn’t a welcoming state. In fact, our government made it difficult and expensive for a black person to become established. So they were ok to pass through as long as they didn’t think about staying which is why so many chose Canada as their fresh start destination.

The Center has all kinds of interesting things including an exhibit about the Tuskegee Airmen. This includes the uniform of Major Henry A. Norman, a local gentleman who was a Tuskegee pilot.

See an exhibit on how quilts were used as a means of communication, aiding escaped slaves along their journey to freedom. Learn about education during segregation and about the local Lincoln Colored School.

They have a handwritten letter that verified the freedom of a former slave. This document had clearly been folded and carried, the very lifeline necessary to maintain his freedom.

They also have copies of classified ads from the Gallipolis newspaper in the early nineteenth century. These ads describe escaped slaves much the same as you would describe a lost dog or cat.

As my guides talked, I marveled at the wealth of information before me and at the tone of the conversation. In a world where dividing people because of their politics or race is common, the conversations are often overpowered by emotion rather than fact. I feel overwhelmed by people who spit out their opinions without knowing enough facts to even have an opinion. I am discouraged by people who shrug off the problems in this country today because it happened a long time ago and it wasn’t their fault.

My guides told me stories. Their stories were about the black experience in America and specifically in Ohio over a period of many years. These stories are so different than my own and they are a far cry from what kids learn in history class.

We teach history like it was a long time ago but, the truth is, the Civil War and slavery are not so far removed from us today. They live on through stories and prejudices handed down by our grandparents who heard them from their grandparents. Segregation was a reality for many folks living today as was the Civil Rights movement.

Remnants of these events echo through our country today and we still live with their consequences – both good and bad.

No one made me feel guilty for being white. They made me feel welcome. They were eager to have an audience willing to learn. I was glad to learn about people whose stories have been lost to time or blatantly ignored by textbooks. The history taught here is all our histories.

Other volunteers arrived for a shift change before I left so I got to meet more people. One gentleman recalled a teacher he had in the fifties who referred to black students as “descendants of ex slaves.”

I was incredulous that this is the terminology a teacher would choose. He said she was an older woman at the time. It’s hard to tell what other terrible things she thought and what stories had been handed down to her from parents and grandparents who remembered how things were before the war.

Friends, I learned so much that I can’t begin to share it all here. It’s this kind of learning that excites me and that I think makes us all better citizens of the world. It’s when we consider someone else’s perspective that we truly begin to understand our own.

At one point, I knelt down to study pictures of children in segregated schools and my mind inexplicably wandered back to Virginia where I toured a plantation home in 2020.

That story never made this blog because I was so taken aback that I couldn’t bring myself to write it.

That plantation was built and run by slaves. It wouldn’t have existed without them. Somehow, our tour guide managed to show us around almost the entire home without mentioning the slave experience. It wasn’t until we reached the kitchen that he told us about the slave woman who raised a dozen or more children while cooking for the family and everyone who lived here.

The guide spoke for a few minutes about what it was like to run such a kitchen. Then he clapped his hands together and exclaimed “but no one came here to talk about slavery” before ushering us out the door.

I was too appalled at the time to even know what to say because I did visit that plantation to hear about slavery. Why else would you go to a plantation? Of all places, that historic site has an opportunity to start a productive dialog about things that are challenging to discuss in normal daily life.

These conversations can be uncomfortable but the folks at the John Gee Black Historical Center illustrate just how meaningful it can be when we have them.

As a personal favor to me, walk through those doors and listen. Look around. Learn. Make friends. The world would be a better place if we could normalize learning from one another.

I adored these people and this place and hope to go back another day. I had so many questions that I didn’t get around to asking or couldn’t quite verbalize at the time. Plus, I heard and saw more than I could absorb in a day.

Another time.

Meanwhile, you can find them on Facebook and visit their website. Rest assured, I’ll write more about this place. They are typically open on Friday and Saturday but check their Facebook page to make sure they are open the day you plan to go. Admission is free but I encourage you to drop a few bucks in their donation box.

George Washington’s Mount Vernon

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The love of my country will be the ruling influence of my conduct… George Washington

I got to touch George Washington’s handrail while climbing the stairs at his Virginia home Mount Vernon. George Washington walked these stairs and maybe touched this handrail himself.

To be fair, everyone on the tour did the same and you could too. In fact, people have probably been touching Washington’s handrail since the house became a tourist destination over 150 years ago.

Even knowing that it’s an option available to the masses, it still felt like a special experience. After all, when you go on historic home tours you are typically asked to refrain from touching or photographing anything. In fact, they would likely prefer you didn’t breathe in some of those houses if that were a reasonable request.

Yet Mount Vernon is incredibly accessible. Tours are small and non-flash photography is encouraged. They invite guests to sit a spell on the back porch – listen to how Appalachian I am! They call it a piazza.

While Washington is the quintessential founding father of our nation, it is women who have protected and preserved his home for the public to enjoy all these years after his death.

The Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association acquired the home in 1858. They bought it from Washington’s great-grand nephew and have since set the gold star for preservation, restoration and public accessibility for important historic homes.

A century later, those ladies caught wind that an oil tank farm was rumored for the banks of the Potomac River. This development would destroy the incredible view from the mansion’s piazza. Mrs. Frances Payne Bolton, Vice Regent for Ohio of the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association, purchased nearly 500 acres of that land which led her to organize one of the nation’s earliest land trusts.

President Kennedy would later sign into law the creation of the Piscataway National Park thus preserving this spectacular shoreline.

Restoration work is still constant and there is a great sense of care about the work being done here.

All walks of life tour this site every year. You hear lots of accents and other languages here. When my friend and I emerged from the path that leads from the visitor center to the home we were staring at the view made so famous by postcards, movies, textbooks and even commemorative plates.

We stood there absorbing the moment, each of us likely revisiting memories of what the house means to us. I was grateful to still have this place with its stately design and driveway lined with enormous old trees. It feels historic and it feels important.

This home, the estate and the man mean different things to different people. Washington is immortalized in a familiar portrait on our money and in a host of other ways. He was a smart man, always thinking and evolving, and not afraid to change his mind when new information became available.

There are many stories I could tell you from my visit here and some that I may circle back to another day. However, one thing that stands out in my memories is standing inside a building used for slave quarters. I believe it held bunk beds for ten. The space was sparse and depressing, fitting for a place that once held humans in bondage.

I cannot fathom what it was like to live here. I cannot imagine what it was like to be a wealthy white person whose livelihood and success, whose everyday life depended on the institution of slavery.

Everything they had, everything they hoped to be was possible because of the hundreds of enslaved souls who worked here throughout Washington’s life.

I read that Washington accepted slavery when he was a young man but began to question it after the Revolutionary War. He chose to keep his thoughts to himself for fear of dividing our young country. In his will, Washington ordered that his slaves be freed following his wife Martha’s death. I can’t help but wonder how things might be different had he expressed his views during his lifetime.

The tour here is exceptional. I appreciate that they tackle some tough issues factually and without apology while defining Washington’s place in our history.

If you go, there’s a great museum that I’ll tell you about another day. You can visit the final resting place of the President and First Lady while touring the grounds. There’s a cafe and a food truck and a fantastic gift shop with an amazing book section.

You could literally spend an entire day here if you wish and I wouldn’t blame you because it’s so well done.