FREEDOM AFTER SLAVERY.
* * * * *
COMING NORTH.
As before stated, we arrived in Memphis on the Fourth of July, 1865. My
first effort as a freeman was to get something to do to sustain myself
and wife and a babe of a few months, that was born at the salt works. I
succeeded in getting a room for us, and went to work the second day
driving a public carriage. I made enough to keep us and pay our room
rent. By our economy we managed to get on very well. I worked on, hoping
to go further north, feeling somehow that it would be better for us
there; when, one day I ran across a man who knew my wife's mother. He
said to me: "Why, your wife's mother went back up the river to
Cincinnati. I knew her well and the people to whom she belonged." This
information made us eager to take steps to find her. My wife was
naturally anxious to follow the clue thus obtained, in hopes of finding
her mother, whom she had not seen since the separation at Memphis years
before. We, therefore, concluded to go as far as Cincinnati, at any
rate, and endeavor to get some further information of mother. My wife
seemed to gather new strength in learning this news of her mother,
meager though it was. After a stay in Memphis of six weeks we went on to
Cincinnati, hopeful of meeting some, at least, of the family that,
though free, in defiance of justice, had been consigned to cruel and
hopeless bondage--bondage in violation of civil as well as moral law. We
felt it was almost impossible that we should see any one that we ever
knew; but the man had spoken so earnestly and positively regarding my
mother-in-law that we were not without hope. On arriving at Cincinnati,
our first inquiry was about her, my wife giving her name and
description; and, fortunately, we came upon a colored man who said he
knew of a woman answering to the name and description which my wife gave
of her mother, and he directed us to the house where she was stopping.
When we reached the place to which we had been directed, my wife not
only found her mother but one of her sisters. The meeting was a joyful
one to us all. No mortal who has not experienced it can imagine the
feeling of those who meet again after long years of enforced separation
and hardship and utter ignorance of one another's condition and place of
habitation. I questioned them as to when and where they had met, and how
it happened that they were now together. My mother-in-law then began the
following narrative:
"When I was sold from the Memphis trader's yard I was bought by a man
who lived not far from Memphis. I never heard of any of the children,
and knew nothing as to what had become of them. After the capture of
Memphis by the Union army, the people to whom I belonged fled from their
home, leaving their slaves; and the other slaveholders of the
neighborhood did the same. The slaves, left to themselves, at once
departed for Memphis, and I among the number. When I had been there but
a short time a call was made for nurses to go into the hospital; and,
after thinking of it for a few minutes, I concluded to answer the call,
and was speedily installed in the work. When I had been there a short
time I found, to my great surprise and delight, my eldest daughter was
also employed there. She had come to Memphis as I had, because her
master's family had fled; and, hearing the call for nurses, had entered
the service at once. I can not tell my pleasure in meeting one of my
children, for I had never expected to see any of them again. We
continued our work in the hospital until Generals Sheridan and Grant
said the city was getting too crowded with colored people--there was not
room for them; some must be removed. So, large numbers of them were sent
to Cincinnati, and my daughter and I were among them. This is why you
see us here together."
When she had finished telling this story my wife and I were shedding
tears of joy. My sister-in-law, Mary Ellen, whom Boss bought at the same
time that he bought my wife, was with us; thus the mother and three
daughters had met again most unexpectedly, and in a way almost
miraculous. This meeting again of mother and daughters, after years of
separation and many vicissitudes, was an occasion of the profoundest
joy, although all were almost wholly destitute of the necessaries of
life. This first evening we spent together can never be forgotten. I can
see the old woman now, with bowed form and gray locks, as she gave
thanks in joyful tones yet reverent manner, for such a wonderful
blessing.
* * * * *
IN CANADA.
We did not remain long in Cincinnati, as houses were so scarce we could
not get a place to stop in. My wife's mother had but one room, and we
could not stay there. We went on to Hamilton, but stayed there only two
months. I worked at whatever I could get to do--whitewashing and odd
jobs of any kind. The women managed to get washing to do, so that we got
on very well. Our aim was when we left Memphis to get to Canada, as we
regarded that as the safest place for refugees from slavery. We did not
know what might come again for our injury. So, now, as we had found some
of my wife's people, we were more eager to go; and, as I could not get
any steady work in Hamilton, we made ready to move on. We went straight
to Detroit, and crossed over the river to Windsor, Canada, arriving
there on Christmas 1865. I succeeded in getting work as a porter at the
Iron House, a hotel situated near the landing. Here my wife also was
employed, and here we remained until spring; when, as the wages were so
small in Windsor, I went over to Detroit to seek for more profitable
employment. After some effort, I succeeded in securing a situation, as
waiter, in the Biddle House, and remained there two years, when the
manager died, and it changed hands; and, much as I disliked to make a
change in my work, I found it necessary. An opportunity soon offered of
a position as sailor on the steamer Saginaw, which ran from Green Bay to
Escanaba, in connection with the railroad.
* * * * *
A CLEW TO MY BROTHER WILLIAM.
While I was on this boat, one of the men who worked with me said to me,
one day: "Have you a brother, Hughes?" I said, "Yes, but I don't know
anything about him. We were sold from each other when boys." "Well,"
said he, "I used to sail with a man whose name was Billy Hughes, and he
looked just like you." I told him there were three boys of us; that we
were sold to different parties, and that I had never seen either of my
brothers since. One brother was named William, but went by the nickname
of Billy. "Has this man had his forefinger cut off," asked I. "Oh!"
replied he, "I don't know, Hughes, about that." "Well," said I, "this is
all I remember about Billy. I accidentally chopped off his forefinger
one day, when we were small boys in Virginia. This is the only thing by
which I could identify my brother William." Nothing more was said upon
the matter, and it dropped out of my mind. I did not realize how
important were the words of this man. It never occurred to me that he
held the clew that might bring us together again.
* * * * *
WORK IN CHICAGO.
When the sailing season had ended, the steamer tied up at Chicago for
the winter. Upon going ashore, I at once tried to get something else to
do, for I could not afford to be idle a day. One of the first men I met
in Chicago was my old friend and fellow-servant Thomas Bland. He was
glad to see me, and told me all about his escape to Canada, and how he
had met Will McGee, at Niagara Falls. He was working at the Sherman
House, having charge of the coat room. I told him that I had been
sailing during the summer, but that the boat was now laid up, and that I
was anxious for another job. He said he would try and see what he could
do for me. He went to the proprietor of the hotel, Mr. Rice; and, to my
surprise and delight, he was so fortunate as to secure me a position as
porter and general utility man. My family were still at Windsor, Canada;
and, when I had secured this place, I got leave of absence to make them
a visit, and went there at once. Two babies had been born only a day
before my arrival. I had hoped to be there on the interesting occasion,
but was too late. However, I was pleased to find two bright little girls
to aid in the family greeting, which was delightful after the months of
separation. My wife, her sister Mary and her two children, her mother
and the sister we found at Cincinnati were all still here living
together.
* * * * *
ATTENDING NIGHT SCHOOL.
After a visit of two weeks with my family, I returned to Chicago, and
began my work at the Sherman House. I was full of energy and hope, and
resolved to put forth every effort to make a man of myself, and to earn
an honest living. I saw that I needed education, and it was one of the
bitterest remembrances of my servitude that I had been cheated out of
this inalienable right--this immeasurable blessing. I, therefore,
determined to do what was in my power to gain something of that of which
I had been cruelly defrauded. Hence I entered the night-school for
freedmen, which had been established in the city, and faithfully
attended its sessions during the months it was kept open.
* * * * *
I SETTLE IN MILWAUKEE.
I worked at the Sherman House until August 1868, and, during this time,
saw many travelers and business men, and made some lasting friends among
them. Among these was Mr. Plankinton. He seemed to take a fancy to me,
and offered me a situation in the Plankinton House, soon to be opened in
Milwaukee. I readily accepted it for I was not getting a large salary,
and the position which he offered promised more. The Plankinton House
was opened in September, and I was placed in full charge of the coat
room; and, after I had been there some time, I had, in connection with
my coat room duties, charge of the bell stand. My wife had charge of the
waiter's rooms, a lodging house situated on Second street, one door from
Grand Avenue. This was a brick building that stood where the west
portion of the Plankinton now stands. The second floor was used as our
living rooms; the third and fourth floors constituted the sleeping
apartments of the hotel waiters. My wife looked after these apartments,
saw that they were clean, and had a general supervision of them.
* * * * *
BEGIN BUSINESS FOR MYSELF IN A SMALL WAY.
After the hotel had been running a little over a year, I saw there was
a chance for me to make something at laundry work. I was allowed to take
washing from any of the guests who desired their work done privately. In
this way I worked up quite a business. I still continued my coat room
duties, as my wife managed the laundry work. Our laundry business
increased so rapidly I deemed it best to change our quarters from Second
street to 216 Grand avenue, which seemed better suited for our purpose.
Here the business continued to grow until it reached proportions of
which we had little idea when we began it.
* * * * *
MEETING RELATIVES OF MY OLD MASTER.
One day while I was at the Plankinton I happened to be coming through
the hall, when whom should I meet but Col. Hunting, son-in-law of old
Master Jack McGee, of Mississippi. We came face to face, and I knew him
at once, but he only partially recognized me. He said: "I know your
face, but can not recall your name." I said: "Don't you know Louis
McGee?" He then remembered me at once. "Why," said he, "my wife, my
brother and all his family are here. There is a party of us on a
pleasure trip through the north." I soon learned that they had visited
at Waukesha springs, and had been at the hotel only a few hours, waiting
for the boat for Grand Haven. I hastened to bring my wife to see them
and got back with her just in time. They were already in the 'bus, but
waited for us. We very cordially shook hands with them. They asked me
why I had come so far north, and I replied that we kept traveling until
we found a place where we could make a good living. They wished us
success and the 'bus rolled away.
* * * * *
FINDING MY BROTHER WILLIAM.
While I was at the Plankinton House many of the traveling men seemingly
liked to talk with me when they came to the coat room to check their
things. I remember one day when conversing with one of these gentlemen,
he asked, all of a sudden: "Say, Hughes, have you a brother?" I
answered: "Yes, I had two, but I think they are dead. I was sold from
them when a mere lad." "Well," said he, "if you have a brother he is in
Cleveland. There is a fellow there who is chief cook at the Forest City
Hotel who looks just like you." I grew eager at these words, and put the
same question to him that I did to the man on the steamer when I was
sailing: "Has he one fore-finger cut off?" He laughed and answered:
"Well, I don't know, Hughes, about that; but I do know this: His name
is Billy and he resembles you very much. I'll tell you what I'll do,
when I go back to Cleveland on my next trip I'll look and see if that
fore-finger is off." Now that the second person had called my attention
to the fact that there was a man in Cleveland who looked very much like
me, I became deeply interested--in fact, I was so excited I could hardly
do my work. I awaited the agents return with what of patience I could
command; and, at last, one day, when I was least expecting him, I was
greeted with these words: "Hello, Hughes! I have good news for you." I
grew so excited I could hardly stand still. "Well," he said, "you told
me that you had a brother whose name was William, but called Billy for
short?" "Yes," I said. "Did your brother Billy have his fore-finger
chopped off by his brother Louis, when, as boys, they were one day
playing together?" "Yes," I replied. "Then I have found your brother,"
he said. "I have seen the man in Cleveland, and he corroborates your
story in every particular. He says that he was born in Virginia, near
Charlottesville, and was owned by one John Martin." I knew now, beyond
question, that this was my brother William. Words failed me to express
my feelings at this news. The prospect of seeing my brother, lost so
many years before, made me almost wild with joy. I thanked the agent for
the interest he had taken in me, and for the invaluable and
comprehensive information he had brought. He could hardly have done me a
greater favor, or bound me to him by a more lasting obligation.
My first step was to arrange for a leave of absence from my work, which
I found no difficulty in accomplishing, and by night I was aboard the
express going to Cleveland. My excitement did not diminish as I sped on
my journey, and the speed of the express was too slow for my eager
anticipations. Upon reaching Cleveland I went directly to the hotel
where I was told my brother was employed, and inquired at the office for
Billy Hughes. A bell boy was summoned to take me around to the
department where he was. When we met neither of us spoke for some
moments--speech is not for such occasions, but silence rather, and the
rush of thoughts. When the first flash of feeling had passed I spoke,
calling him by name, and he addressed me as brother. There seemed to be
no doubt on either side as to our true relationship, though the
features of each had long since faded forever from the memory of the
other. He took me to his house; and each of us related his story with
such feelings as few can fully appreciate. He told me that he had never
heard anything of our mother or brother. He went back to the old home in
Virginia, after the close of the rebellion, but could get no trace of
her.
As we related our varied experiences--the hardships, the wrongs and
sorrows which we endured and at last the coming of brighter days, we
were sad, then happy. It seemed, and indeed was, wonderful that we
should have met again after so long a separation. The time allotted to
my visit with him passed most pleasantly, and all too quickly; and, as I
looked into the faces of his wife and children, I seemed to have entered
a new and broader life, and one in which the joys of social intercourse
had marvelously expanded. When I came to saying good-bye to him, so
close did I feel to him, the tie between us seemed never to have been
broken. That week, so full of new experiences and emotions can never be
erased from my memory. After many promises of the maintenance of the
social relations thus renewed, we parted, to take up again the burdens
of life, but with new inspiration and deeper feeling.
I came back to my work with renewed vigor, and I could not but rejoice
and give praise to God for the blessings that I had experienced in the
years since my bondage, and especially for this partial restoration of
the broken tie of kindred. I had long since learned to love Christ, and
my faith in him was so firmly established that I gave him praise for
each and every ray of happiness that came into my life.
* * * * *
GROWTH OF THE LAUNDRY BUSINESS.
I continued the laundry work, in connection with that at the hotel,
until 1874. I had been in the Plankinton House then six years and a
half. The laundry business had increased to such an extent that my wife
could not manage it all alone. I, therefore, gave up my position at the
hotel, and went into the laundry work on a somewhat larger scale than
that upon which we had been conducting it. We were still doing business
at 216 Grand avenue, and there we remained until 1876; when we removed
to more commodious quarters at 713 on the avenue. But we remained there
only a few mouths, when we removed to 134 Fourth street in the rear. The
establishment here was fitted up with all modern appliances; but I was
not so successful as I anticipated. My losses were heavy; and though
the facilities for doing the work were much better than those which we
had before possessed, the location was not so accessible or inviting.
We, therefore, went back to our former location at 713 on the avenue.
* * * * *
EMPLOYED AS A NURSE.
Not long after this, Dr. Douglas, a prominent physician of the city at
that time, was in failing health, and, wishing a nurse, I was
recommended to him for this service by a friend. I served the doctor in
this capacity every night for three months. I then went with him to
McComb, a village in southern Mississippi, which had been, in the days
of slavery, a somewhat famous resort, but which had lost its prestige,
and entered upon a general decline; the hotel and all its surroundings
presenting the appearance of general dilapidation. I remained here with
the doctor for two weeks--until they succeeded in getting another person
to care for him. I then took a run down to New Orleans.
* * * * *
A TRIP SOUTH.
On this southern trip I had the opportunity of observing the condition
of the country through which we passed. Many of the farms seemed
neglected, the houses dilapidated, or abandoned, the fields either
uncultivated and overgrown with bushes, or the crops struggling with
grass and weeds for the mastery, and presenting but little promise of a
paying harvest. In some places the bushes and other undergrowth were
fifteen feet high, and the landscape was peculiar and by no means
inviting. I could remember the appearance of the cotton farms in slavery
days; but how changed were things I now saw! They did not look at all
like those which I had been accustomed to see. Everything was dismal and
uninviting. The entire country passed through in Mississippi looked like
a wilderness. This deterioration was the natural result of the
devastating war which had swept the country, and to the industrial
revolution which followed and to which affairs had not been adjusted.
When I arrived at New Orleans I found the levee filled with fruit.
Oranges and bananas were piled in masses like coal, and the scenes in
this portion of the city were very different from anything one sees in
the north. Among the many places of interest in the city were the
cemeteries. Owing to the low level of the ground and its saturation with
water, burials are seldom made in graves, but instead in tombs built of
brick or marble or other stone, in which are constructed cells running
back from the front and of a size and shape sufficient to admit a
coffin. Then, as soon as filled, they are sealed up. These tombs contain
from two to six or eight, or even more of these cells, and their general
appearance from the front is not unlike that of a section of mail boxes
in a postoffice. Other places of interest were the old French market,
the public squares and gardens, the old Catholic churches, and some of
the relics of slavery days in the shape of pens where slaves were
exposed for sale. One of these was in the basement of the Hotel Royal,
which would contain several hundred at once, and from which hundreds
went to a bondage bitterer than death, and from which death was the only
relief.
* * * * *
I MAKE NURSING MY REGULAR BUSINESS.
I came back to Milwaukee with a new idea. I liked nursing--it was my
choice from childhood. Even though I had been deprived of a course of
training, I felt that I was not too old to try, at least, to learn the
art, or to add to what I already knew. Dr. Douglas gave me a splendid
recommendation, and had some cards printed, bearing my name and address.
These I distributed, and thus began the business which I have followed
steadily since that time. Dr. Marks very kindly recommended me to well
known men needing the service of a nurse, and to his professional
associates; and through this means, and through his continued kindness
and interest, I have been almost constantly engaged in this work. I am
also indebted to Drs. Fox and Spearman and other prominent physicians
for recommendations which have resulted in securing me employment which
has proved remunerative to me, and which seemed to give entire
satisfaction to the sick and their friends. This is no small part of the
compensation in the difficult, often wearing, and always delicate duties
of the nurse in the sick room. To every true man or woman it is one of
the greatest satisfactions to have the consciousness of having been
useful to his fellow beings. My duties as nurse have taken me to
different parts of the state, to Chicago, to California and to Florida;
and I have thus gained no little experience, not only in my business,
but in many other directions.
I have endeavored, in the foregoing sketch, to give a clear and correct
idea of the institution of human slavery, as I witnessed and experienced
it--its brutality, its degrading influence upon both master and slave,
and its utter incompatibility with industrial improvement and general
educational progress. Nothing has been exaggerated or set down in
malice, although in the scars which I still bear upon my person, and in
the wounds of spirit which will never wholly heal, there might be found
a seeming excuse for such a course. Whatever of kindness was shown me
during the years of my bondage, I still gratefully remember, whether it
came from white master or fellow slave; and for the recognition which
has been so generously accorded me since the badge of servitude was
removed, I am profoundly and devoutly thankful.