Abolition

by Tim Black

  “’And I will be heard,’” Heather interjected, finishing Garrison’s famous words which he printed in the first edition of The Liberator in 1831.

  Mr. Greene winced at Heather’s remark, but Garrison smiled in appreciation of Heather’s acknowledgement.

  “Well, my child, I see that you have read my newspaper,” Garrison said.

  “Yes, Mr. Garrison,” Heather said, which was not technically a lie, because Mr. Greene had provided the students with a facsimile of the front page of the first edition of The Liberator in preparation for the Document Based Question on the United States Advanced Placement exam. The teacher felt that the DBQ would pertain to slavery, but he was wrong. The DBQ for Heather and Samuel’s A.P. exam was on the Articles of Confederation, but Heather had aced it anyway.

  “That is gratifying… Mr. Greene, if you would be so kind as to deliver my message to the offices of The Liberator, my printer should be at his post.

  “My pleasure, Mr. Garrison.”

  “I don’t believe I have seen you in Boston before, sir,” Garrison said.

  “No, this is our first time,” Mr. Greene said, a bit nervously. “We are on our way to Washington City. We sail in the morning.”

  “God speed then,” Garrison said. He began to say something else when Maria Chapman burst into the jail demanding to see Garrison. Several women followed her. Suddenly, the jail was crowded, and Maria elbowed her way past Mr. Greene to speak to the newspaper editor.

  “Mr. Garrison! Thank providence that you are alive. My poor man, they beat you savagely, the cursed brutes! You are full of bumps and bruises.”

  “That is a result of my head bouncing on the cobblestone, Mrs. Chapman. But I am still here. Safe and sound.”

  “And in jail. The effrontery of it all. These men have not heard the last of Maria Chapman,” she promised.

  As Garrison chatted with the leader of the Boston Female Anti-Slavery Society, Mr. Greene gestured to his students that it was time to leave.

  After delivering Garrison’s message to the printer at the newspaper office, the group headed toward the portable.

  “Today, was a sad day for freedom of the press in the United States,” Mr. Greene said. “Now we are going to see how a former President of the United States was silenced in the House of Representatives. Do you remember that, Mr. Bridenbaugh?”

  “Of course, Mr. Greene,” the historian replied. “Eight years of silence.”

  *

  Mr. Tesla set the portable down on the outskirts of Washington City in 1836. He turned on the cloaking device. Washington City was the name of the nation’s capital before it became Washington, District of Columbia, or Washington, D.C.

  Minerva looked out the window. The view shocked her. There was no Lincoln Memorial, no Washington Monument. It really wasn’t much of a city, Minerva thought. It was a large town with dirt streets.

  “It is May 26, 1836, and we are about to witness the end of freedom of speech in the United States House of Representatives.”

  “I don’t recall you teaching us that, Mr. Greene,” Bette said.

  “I didn’t, Bette. I looked back over my lesson plans and realized I omitted the infamous ‘gag rule’ that southerners passed to keep anyone from speaking out against slavery. I am going to rectify that for we are going to sit in the visitors’ gallery and watch and listen to the end of freedom of speech in the House of Representatives.”

  Nikola Tesla, curious about what was about to occur, joined Professor Bridenbaugh, the teacher and the students of Cassadaga Area High School, as they trudged along the road to the Capitol. The iconic rotunda of the Capitol was missing, its completion not coming until the Civil War.

  A lovely spring day, Minerva thought, but it was somewhat ruined by the swine running wild in the streets. And after sticking her shoe in animal dung at Jamestown, Minerva was very cautious as she walked the streets of Washington, avoiding the horse droppings, which littered the way.

  “Back in the 1830s, before decent ventilation, Washington in the summer was like an oven,” said Mr. Greene. He looked at Victor and smiled. “Like summer in Gainesville, eh Victor?”

  “Pretty hot then, Mr. Greene. That’s for sure. Thank the Lord for A.C.,” he added.

  Mr. Greene nodded. “So, Congress usually adjourned for the summer. Today they are going to debate some of their last business before they take off for their home districts. I think what you will see and hear will give you a new appreciation for the 1st Amendment to the United States Constitution and how easily it can be circumvented by politicians.”

  The group climbed the marble steps to the Capitol, following Mr. Greene who led the group into the wing of the Capitol that contained the House of Representatives. They ascended the stairs to the second floor and took seats in the visitors’ gallery, which was sparsely populated on such a lovely spring day in Washington City. Representatives were milling about the floor, speaking to one another, when a man of slight physical stature took a seat at the Speaker of the House’s desk in the House chamber.

  Mr. Greene whispered to the group, “The Speaker of the House is James K. Polk who in eight years will be elected President of the United States and lead the country into war with Mexico. He is a slave owner from Tennessee and the only Speaker of the House to later go on to be elected President of the United States. He also settled the border dispute with Canada and the border remains the longest unfortified border between two nations in the world. So, he had his ups and downs as President. But he was all for the annexation of Texas and the extension of slavery. Today, at the urging of Senator John C. Calhoun of South Carolina, a former Vice President and a notorious ‘fire eater’ as secessionists were labeled, we are going to witness a suspension of the Constitution in the House of Representatives of the United States.”

  “How was that possible, Mr. Greene?”

  “Well, because of the Missouri Compromise of 1820, the slave states and the free states were equal in number. But because of the original three-fifth compromise in which slaves were counted as three-fifths of a person, southern states often had more representatives than northern states. In other words, they controlled most votes in the House of Representatives. So, they passed a rule forbidding abolition from being discussed on the floor of the House. It is really an interesting exchange when the future President of the United States silenced a former President of the United States, John Quincy Adams,” Mr. Greene said. He pointed to a man of average height for a 19th century American male, perhaps 5'8". “Look at the old guy with the gray sideburns in the well of the House below the Speaker’s dais. That is John Quincy Adams. He left the presidency in 1829 after being defeated by Andrew Jackson. He then served seventeen years in the House of Representatives. In our time, that would be like George Bush or Barack Obama being elected to Congress after their presidencies,” he explained. “Adams was a strong abolitionist who also believed in universal education. He was a firm proponent of freedom of speech and earned the nickname ‘Old Man Eloquent’ while he served his tenure in Congress.”

  James K. Polk called the House of Representatives to order. “The clerk will read the resolution of the House and the voting will commence by roll call,” the Speaker said.

  The clerk took a sip of water and began the reading: “All petitions, memorials, resolutions, propositions or papers, relating in any way, or to any extent whatsoever, to the subject of slavery or the abolition of slavery, shall, without either being printed or referred, be laid upon the table and…no further action whatever shall be had thereon.”

  The clerk of the House ended his reading and Speaker Polk announced the roll call vote.

  “This is total b. s., Mr. Greene,” said Bette Kromer.

  Mr. Greene was philosophical. “Today, perhaps Democrats and Republicans fight like cats and dogs, but before the Civil War, Congress could be just as dysfunctional as today. The Whigs and the Democrats were the two major parties, but slavery would first split the Baptist church in two over slave
ry, with the Southern Baptists in favor of bondage, and the Baptists of the North opposed. After the Baptist church split, so did the Whigs, and the Republican Party was born in Wisconsin in 1854 as a regional, anti-slavery party. The Democrats supported slavery and even the Northern Democrats gave tacit support to Southern slavery. But that is eighteen years from now, isn’t it?”

  As the clerk continued with the roll call vote, John Quincy Adams stood up and proclaimed over the clerk’s roll call, “I hold the resolution to be a direct violation of the Constitution of the United States.”

  Speaker Polk hit his gavel on his dais desk. “The gentleman from Massachusetts is out of order. He will take his seat.”

  Adams responded, “I am aware that there is a slave-holding Speaker in the chair,” the former President said in a bit of snark.

  To which the future President retorted with a slam of his gavel and a shout, “The gentleman from Massachusetts shall take his seat!”

  Adams remained standing. “I have here an anti-slavery petition from the people of my district, exercising their 1st Amendment right to petition the government…”

  “The gentleman from Massachusetts shall take his seat!” said Polk, his face turning red.

  “Mr. Speaker, am I gagged or not?” Adams said evenly.

  Polk ignored him and turned to an ally, Henry Pinckney of South Carolina. “The chair recognizes the gentleman from South Carolina.” Shouts of hurrah followed Polk’s silencing of John Quincy Adams.

  “This is totally amazing,” Victor said. “And they are cheering the silencing of a former President! Incredible.”

  “Yes, not only that, but Adams started getting death threats. The gag rule was counterproductive. Voters saw it as unfair. And the abolitionists who, up until this time were considered a fringe group, started getting attention when the petitions were set aside. At the start of each Congress every two years, the gag rule was renewed by a vote until it finally was repealed in 1844. The group that led the opposition to the gag rule was none other than John Quincy Adams. The gag rule on slavery was just one more thing that drove a wedge between North and South. Slavery was an emotional issue.”

  Henry Pinckney, a slave owner whose family owned hundreds of slaves, rose slowly from his seat, as if to allow the applause for Speaker Polk to continue. “Mr. Speaker,” he began. “The Constitution gave us the right to our ‘peculiar institution,’ and I see no need for there to be any discussion on the matter from today on. As the vote I am sure will show, the majority is for the resolution, and the gentleman from Massachusetts is beating a dead horse.”

  “Better than beating a slave to death,” one congressman chimed in.

  Speaker Polk exercised his gavel once again. “The gentleman from Ohio has not been recognized. Please continue, Mr. Pinckney.”

  “I think we have seen enough,” Mr. Greene said. “Time to meet Mr. Lovejoy in Illinois,” he explained as he rose to his feet.

  As she rose to her feet, Minerva glanced at an older woman intently watching the proceedings on the House of Representatives floor below. Wearing her hair in ringlets topped with a blue bonnet, the woman appeared to be with another woman, who seemed to be whispering in her ear. As he passed the woman, Mr. Greene paused, tipped his hat, and said. “Hello, Mrs. Adams.”

  Abigail Adams? Minerva wondered.

  Mrs. Adams turned her head, smiled at Mr. Greene, but returned her head to the proceedings without uttering a word.

  As they left the chamber, a curious Minerva asked her teacher, “Was that Abigail Adams, Mr. Greene?”

  “No,” Mr. Greene replied. “That was Abigail’s daughter-in-law, Louisa Adams, wife of John Quincy Adams, who was Abigail and John Adams’ son. She had been a First Lady of the United States. Her image is on a gold coin from the United States Mint, a First Spouses’ collection.”

  “First Ladies, only,” Bette said.

  “So far, anyway,” Mr. Greene said. “Louisa was a poet and a playwright and something of an early feminist. In her plays she mocked her chauvinistic husband. Her mother was English and her father a diplomat in London, where Louisa was born. She was the first wife of a President of the United States to be born abroad. I believe she is here supporting her husband. She is against slavery and for women’s rights. But although she admired strong women, she was of two minds, ambivalent about dress and manners. Somehow, she wanted to fit in and she knew that strong women were shunned by the society of her time. She didn’t show up at Seneca Falls in 1848, for example. It is too bad that Henry Adams isn’t along on this trip,” Mr. Greene said.

  “Why is that?” Minerva asked.

  “Because, the lady back there is his grandmother. She wrote a memoir of her life, Adventures of a Nobody. I was hoping to find a copy of it on Amazon, but no luck. I wouldn’t be surprised if the library at Yale didn’t have a copy, Minerva. Or Harvard, perhaps.”

  As they descended the capitol steps, Samuel asked his teacher. “Did the gag order really last for eight years, Mr. Greene?”

  “Yes, indeed, but it had the opposite effect for the slave owners. Northerners who had opposed abolition were upset that abolitionists and their petitions had been silenced in Congress. Unlike today, people back then believed that even if you did not agree with one side’s argument, they had the right to send petitions to the government. It was guaranteed by the 1st Amendment. So, abolitionists began to gather sympathy and then support for their cause, which in turn, fueled the sectional divide.”

  “It is really incredible that they suspended freedom of speech in the House of Representatives,” Victor added. “And they violated two of the five provisions of the 1st Amendment. Freedom of speech and the right to petition the government.”

  “Well, now we are going to go on to see the suppression of a third leg of the 1st Amendment, freedom of the press. In Alton, Illinois, of all places,” Mr. Greene said.

  “What is so special about Alton, Illinois, Mr. Greene?” Heather asked.

  “I was born there,” he smiled.

  “Wow,” said Bette Kromer. “I assume there is a statue or at the very least a plaque,” she smiled.

  Mr. Greene laughed. “We left when I was two,” the teacher replied. “There is a life-size statue of Robert Wadlow, the tallest man in history, who was known as the ‘Alton Giant.” He was 8'11", an inch short of nine feet tall. People like to pose with the statue for pictures. It is about the only tourist attraction in Alton, I must say.”

  “No ghosts in the high school, huh?” Bette asked.

  “I doubt it. Much too dull for the likes of Mr. Tesla and Mr. Bridenbaugh or the Beards,” Mr. Greene chuckled.

  *

  Back at the portable, Mr. Greene gave an overview of the next jump in time.

  “Elijah Parish Lovejoy was born in Albion, Massachusetts…later Maine…in 1802. As you may recall Maine was created from Massachusetts in 1820 as part of the Missouri Compromise so that there would be equal slave states and free states. Lovejoy graduated from what is now called Colby College in 1826 and went west to St. Louis to teach. In 1831, he joined the Presbyterian Church and decided to become a minister. He returned east and attended Princeton Theological Seminary. After a short stint in Philadelphia as a minister he returned to St. Louis. He became a minster in the city and started a religious newspaper, The St. Louis Observer, and advocated for the abolition of slavery. After witnessing a slave burned at the stake, his editorials against slavery grew harsher in tone and he became a pariah to slaveowners. His St. Louis press was destroyed by a mob of angry slave sympathizers in 1836 so he moved to Alton, Illinois, across the Mississippi River, because Illinois was a free state.

  “In Alton, he was selected as a minister for another Presbyterian Church. He joined the Anti-Slavery Society of Illinois. That angered the citizens of Alton. Not dissuaded from speaking out about slavery, Lovejoy started an anti-slavery paper, The Alton Observer, and continued to speak out about slavery’s ills. Mobs, on three separate occasions, destroyed three p
resses and tossed the broken presses into the Mississippi River. After each incident, he published his paper again. He was the epitome of Garrison’s slogan about being heard. This brings us, or it will soon, to the night of November 7, 1837. We are headed for the Godfrey and Gilman warehouse where a press has just arrived to replace the latest casualty from the office of The Alton Observer. Mr. Tesla, are you ready to proceed?”

  “I am, Mr. Greene,” the ghost assured him.

  “Coordinates entered?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let us be off.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. Buckle up, buckaroos,” Tesla said with a chuckle.

  The students laughed along with the dead Serbian scientist. “I’m a buckaroo,”. Heather chortled. “Yahoo!”

  *

  Nikola Tesla found a vacant lot outside of Alton, Illinois, and set the portable down softly, activating the cloaking device. By prior agreement with the dead historian, Tesla turned the computer over to Professor Bridenbaugh so that Tesla could join Mr. Greene and his students as they walked to the warehouse where the new printing press had been delivered earlier in the day via steamboat. Darkness was descending upon the Mississippi river town.

  “About two dozen of Elijah Lovejoy’s supporters gathered at the warehouse to guard the new printing press, delivered only a few hours before. The plan was to install the new printing press at the offices of The Alton Observer on the next morning.”

  “Isn’t this a bit dangerous, Mr. Greene?” Samuel asked.

  “Yes,” Mr. Greene replied. “I want you to proceed by your own volition. If you do not wish to continue, I won’t criticize you, especially you, Samuel, after what happened in Jerusalem. I am sure Professor Bridenbaugh would welcome the company.”

  “No,” Samuel said. “I need to see this, Mr. Greene.”

  “Alright then, let us proceed.”

  A group of men had gathered in the street outside the warehouse. As Mr. Greene and his students passed through the crowd, Minerva could smell the alcohol on the breath of many of the men. A drunken, proslavery mob, she thought. This really could be dangerous, she told herself. She reached out and took Victor’s hand. He turned his head and saw the concern on Minerva’s face. He drew her closer to him and put his arm around her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his waist. Minerva could feel her anxiety level dissipate, but another feeling replaced it. It had been too long since Victor put his arm around her. She whispered a sigh. But Victor didn’t notice. She smiled. He never did notice things, she thought. Typical guy.