Quaker
Life
September 1997
An "Underground" History
By Ken and Katharine Jacobsen
Ethel Caffie-Austin: "My grandfather was a slave and later
became a free man. And my father was born in 1893.
"Olney Friends School's oral history project sought to find and
record as many authentic, local stories of the underground railroad as
possible. Living encounters with American history such as this one took
place many times during Olney's 1996 spring term, and all participants
and witnesses knew that they were experiencing something of lifetime significance.
Most often the interviewees were Black Americans, whose forebears returned
to eastern Ohio after the Emancipation Proclamation because people had
been kind to them there.
Michael Nobel Kline: "How did the Underground Railroad work,
based on what you've heard your father and grandfather talk about?"
Ethel Caffie-Austin: "It worked in secrecy. In our family
there were a lot of secrets. That was another code of a black family,
really. Not only my family, but older black people; when you go back to
thgenerations that are now seventy, eighty and ninety years old, you'll
find they're very secretive about a lot of things, and that was because
they were taught, you don't say everything. You have to make certain that
some things are kept quiet." My parents would always talk about Miss
Ann and Mr. Charlie. I didn't know who Miss Ann was. And they would tell
stories about being in conflict with Miss Ann, or talk about what Miss
Ann thought she was. And I used to say, "Well who is Miss Ann?"
For a long time they wouldn't tell me. I was almost an adult until they
finally revealed to me that Miss Ann was the term given to the white woman
for whom they worked, or prior to that, of course, the slave master's
wife. And Mr. Charlie was a white man. They used those terms and would
even have conversations in front of the people. And they, of course, would
not even have an inkling that they were being made fun of, or being talked
about terribly, right in front of their faces. So when you talk about
the Underground Railroad the first thing that comes to mind is secrecy
and the coded way- the very ingenious way-that blacks had of getting around
what the master or the white man thought he already had control of."
The narratives, which told of almost unbelievable risk and hardship,
were laced with rich music. Plantation work songs and spirituals, "soul
music" of an earlier time, filled the meetinghouse again and again.
We learned how such songs as "Follow the Drinking Gourd,"
"Lead Kindly Light," "Wade in the Water," and "Go
Down Moses" served both to hearten the famished and bruised travelers
and direct them away from danger as they moved slowly northward along
the Ohio River Valley ridges and ravines in the dark of night.
Ethel Caffie-Austin: "My daddy used to show me the stars.
And he showed me where the North Star was when I was a little child. Of
course, I didn't see the significance of it then, but after learning about
the song, 'Follow the Drinking Gourd,' and finding out that that was a
song that was used as a means of indicating to those who were trying to
escape that they needed to watch the North Star and the drinking gourd,
I found out that was very significant. It was definitely something used
as a code for those who were about to leave so they would know: 'Watch
the sky.' 'If you get there before I do, tell all of my friends I'm coming
too' did not necessarily mean that they were talking about going to Heaven."
Friends from Ohio Yearly Meeting shared their family stories, and we
realized that we were hearing accounts that had been kept secret for
generations. Participation in the underground railroad was highly controversial
among Friends. Those involved were cautious about sharing details with
anyone. To our knowledge no Friend ever turned another one in, but the
opposition to what was seen as illegal action was often very bitter.
Local historians such as Bruce Yarnall, editor of the Barnesville Enterprise
at the time, shared research on other Belmont County Quakers who were
active abolitionists. We learned of the unity of purpose of Hicksites
such as Dr. William Schooley of Somerton, who transported men, women
and children in his hay wagon night after night, and Orthodox Quakers
such as William Bundy, whose farm not far from Barnesville served as
the next safe spot on routes from Somerton toward Mount Pleasant and
Salem.
The blessings from the project are very real. For one thing Olney has
learned that the spoken word, as opposed to the written word, deserves
to be an acknowledged part of scholarship, particularly among Friends.
People who are raised in family circles emphasizing the spoken word
often have a uniquely descriptive way of speaking, as well as access
to parts of their own memory which may be hidden to those who rely on
writing down events and looking up information in books.
The second very genuine blessing came from the conversations which
followed the formal parts of the interviews. Olney students were privileged
to live into, to experience the lives and times, the struggles and the
faith, of those who were being ierviewed.As an example of just such
a memorable conversation, an Olney senior, Stefan Hannevig, asked William
Taber in the question and answer period following his interview why
it took Quakers so long to decide that slavery was wrong. His earnest
question, one which had troubled him for years, moved Bill to lead the
group in an unforgettable lesson in the meaning of Quaker process.
William Taber: "I start here with a pause. And that pause
is important. When a serious question comes up, the typical Quaker response
is not a quick answer. We must wait a while and feel from where the right
answer must come. If we are truly following Quaker process, we are trying
to discern what God would have us do. That's a very sacred thing. We dare
not move too fast because we might be making a mistake."
John Woolman, the Quaker who worked all of his life against slavery,
was a marvelous example of this. He had a passionate concern against slavery.
And he traveled in this concern, often walking on foot through the slave
states to preach to Quakers against slavery. He walked because he thought
he had to do so to stay humble.
When he stayed in the home of a Quaker slaveholder, and was waited on
by slaves, he either gave the slaves money for waiting on him, because
he knew they were not being paid, or he would go to the slave owner, give
him the money and ask him to give it to the slaves.
"But...John Woolman, this man with a passion against slavery, would
never speak against it when he visited a Quaker meeting for business in
the south, unless he felt the rising of the spirit of God within him to
do so. He could not just speak from the top of his head or even from his
heart. He had to speak from that place which was coming from God.
"I give you one example: John Woolman was in a meeting in the south
where he wept because he could not speak. He wanted so much to speak against
slavery in that meeting; it was in North Carolina. Finally, near the end
of the meeting, a local Friend got up and said, 'I have been thinking.
I think we should be doing more to give good education to our Negro slaves.'"
That opened a concern in the meeting. It wasn't as far as John Woolman
wanted to go, but he knew that having a local person speak this way opened
a door which he could not have opened. Somehow the Holy Spirit kept him
from speaking."
Discerning what God would have us do takes time. Quakers talk and pray
and talk again, until there is a sense of unity. It often takes much longer
than a voting process. Taking a vote will result in a decision but it
does not result necessarily in unity. It's much harder to walk together
with real force if you do not have that deep unity. There is a power in
this slowness.
If the Quakers had taken a vote on slavery, say around 1730 or 1740,
maybe they would have been ready to outlaw slavery in the Society of Friends.
But some Friends were not ready to give up their slaves and would not
have done so. Ultimately there was unity-and it came relatively early.
Almost one hundred years before slaves were freed by violence in this
country, American Quakers released their slaves, often providing them
resources for the years ahead. So...even if it took us a long time, we
got there before most of the rest of the country."
As the oral history project unfolded in the spring and summer of 1996,
many such gifts of living history arose from heart-to-heart encounters
between these bearers of history and their listeners. There were lessons
on all aspects of the underground railroad, both heartbreaking and heartening;
tales of racial enmity and reconciliation, of unjust law and unlawful
justice, of cruelty and mercy.
Ethel Caffie-Austin: "I was a child, living in Fayette
County. The saddest part was they taught us you couldn't stand near a
window during the night time. You had to have shades or venetian blinds.
And they had to be closed as soon as it got dusk because several of the
Caffies lost their lives by sitting by a window. The shadow or the images
of the individual on the blind was an image that was shot at, and people
got killed. Even in West Virginia they still had that tradition that they
carried from the South because of their lives so frequently being just
like a jack rabbit's. Shoot to kill."
Those of us who participated in the project are left with the prayer
and the assurance that the power of conscience may continually overcome
the darkness of the human heart.
Ken and Katharine Jacobsen have recently returned to Richmond, Indiana,
after several years at Olney Friends School. Two, hour-long, commercial
quality audio tapes have been produced and may be obtained from Olney
Friends School, Barnesville OH 43713 for $10.00 ea. The first, which includes
stories and music of the underground railroad, is called "Riding
Freedom's Train." The second, primarily music, is called "I
Hear Angels Singing."
Copyright 1997, Friends United Meeting
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