A school house bell is very much needed to secure promptness in our scholars. Will some friend send us one?
We feel that successful schools are reconstructing the power of Kentucky and such we must have at Lexington.73
Hale's tenure at the Howard School lasted only two years (he moved to Cleveland, Ohio, and opened a country store), but he contributed tremendously to the development of Lexington's African American community, and many of the children he taught would achieve great things in the latter part of the nineteenth century. Unfortunately, Hale's efforts to move the race forward would be forgotten by the end of the century, a casualty of the times.
The official records of the Freedmen's Bureau show that between 1866 and the end of 1867, the thirteen schools in Kentucky funded by the bureau had close to 10,000 students enrolled. The Howard School could boast of having at least 1,121 black students during that same period. In December 1868 Oberlin graduate John G. Hamilton joined the staff of the Howard School as its principal, after serving in the same capacity at the Ely Normal School in Louisville for six months. We do not know the reason for his short tenure at the Ely School, but reports from T. K. Noble, assistant to the chief superintendent of schools, document Hamilton's early success in Lexington.74 Unfortunately, Hamilton's long-term impact on the Lexington community would be connected to his position as cashier for the Freedmen's Bank and the drama that followed the financial crash of 1873 and the bank's collapse in 1874.
Besides the Howard School, there were five other schools in Lexington that served the educational needs of African American children and adults. Under Hale's guidance, the number of schools in Kentucky grew exponentially between 1867 and 1869, especially in the larger cities and more populated areas, where teachers could be recruited and whites tolerated the presence of an educated black populace. Still, the black leadership constantly lobbied for state support; they organized themselves into a powerful body politic capable of arguing for the needs of the black masses. One of the most impressive demonstrations of this emerging power occurred in the summer of 1869.
On July 14 in Louisville, Kentucky, more than 2,000 people jammed the streets between Fourth and Jefferson, near the Benson Theater, to attend the Colored Educational Convention. The stifling 100-degree temperature did not deter those concerned about the future of their children and the race from attending one of the most important public meetings held in postbellum Kentucky.75 The standing-room-only crowd was anxiously anticipating the speechifying of prominent guests from around the country, including the Reverend John G. Fee, black Civil War veteran and civil rights activist Martin Delany, and distinguished black representative of the Federal government John Mercer Langston. At 2:00 that afternoon, one of the main organizers, Colonel Benjamin Runkle of the Freedmen's Bureau, addressed the impressive crowd: “You have come up through oppression, darkness and slavery to civil liberty,” he began. “And you are yet to be respected by all the good people of this country. Gathered together as you are, with labor and education for your motto, and justice and equal rights as your aim, you must succeed, and I know you will yet become equal to any people within the domain of the land—the home of all the oppressed of the earth.” The sweltering mass of black folks received Runckle's words with the enthusiasm of a revival; applause and shouts of “Amen” followed his remarks as he sat and listened attentively to the rest of the program.76
There were 230 delegates present at the convention, representing almost every county in the state. Lexington's contingency included Henry King, James Turner, John Tandy, and E. R. Wells. The delegates endured the oppressive conditions in the hope of ensuring the education and full citizenship of all black Kentuckians and ending the violence against them. After the formal nomination and election of officials, including the selection of King and Tandy as vice presidents and Wells as the sergeant at arms, the president-elect, Elder H. J. Young of the Quinn Chapel of Louisville, addressed the assemblage. He reminded those present why they had come together under the banner of Christian brotherhood, justice, and the future of the race. Young suggested that the “two most important duties of the Convention was to petition the United States Congress to make further appropriations for the education of the colored people in Kentucky; and second, to petition the State Legislature to give them assistance.”77
On day two of the convention, while the delegates and word-smiths agonized over language, intent, and a united vision for the future, spectators in the Benson Theater were treated to a magnificent display of oration by several speakers, including John Mercer Langston (the great-uncle of Langston Hughes). A man possessing tremendous knowledge of politics, culture, and human nature, Langston wove a tapestry composed of notions of their collective destiny, using their emancipation from slavery as a point of departure for his discussion of the direction in which “the race” was heading. Recalling the 20,000 slaves gathered outside Louisville on the Fourth of July, 1865, to hear General John Palmer read the Emancipation Proclamation and declare them free men and women, and the sound of those men and women thanking God for deliverance, Langston reminded his audience that the journey was far from over. The current denials of their citizenship, their right to a quality progressive education, and their right to testify in court were battles yet to be fought. More important, they were battles that needed to be won. Indeed, the future of the race hinged on what he identified as the true “test of equality,” which he believed, quite plainly, was achievement. Langston argued that there “has been no change made by God since our emancipation. No man is called of the brotherhood that is not equal in the measure of arms, of muscles, in the measure of bodily strength, in demonstration of vigorous intellect.” For Langston, equality was not a status conferred by men based on socially constructed definitions; it was a common humanity shaped by the “hands of his Maker.”78
On the final day of the convention, the executive board read the seven resolutions that, among other things, demanded equal representation, support for education, and protection under the law. The resolutions also recognized the benevolent societies that supported the freedmen and their transition from slavery to freedom. Finally, the delegates implored the young men and youth of the state of Kentucky to “learn trades and engage in agricultural pursuits as a proper mode of supporting themselves and giving encouragement to mechanics and agriculture,” which would provide for their families.79 Besides the unified position taken in the resolutions, what stood out was the unity demonstrated by the 230 delegates from across the state who had come together to serve the social and political needs of African Americans. At the end of the three-day conference, spectators in attendance, especially those from urban parts of the state, had been whipped into a jubilant frenzy of anticipation: they would gain access to education for their children and themselves, win the franchise, and be recognized as fully vested Americans. Unlike the spectators, however, the reform-minded delegates knew their job was not over. The hard part would be convincing the Kentucky legislature of the merits of providing access to equal education, establishing viable businesses to support the development of an independent class of freedmen, and giving them a political voice. For the freedmen, achievement might be the true “test of equality,” but resilience and vigilance would be the true test of courage and manhood.
Eternal Striving as the Price of Liberty and Success
If the success of the 1869 Colored Educational Convention was an indicator of the will of black Kentuckians, the same could be said of the Colored Fair Association, founded in the fall of the same year. Within a month of the Louisville convention and four days after the solar eclipse of August 7, 1869, two of Lexington's convention delegates, Henry King and James Turner (one of the men responsible for acquiring the building for the Howard School), assembled African American leaders from their community to create a business in support of the resolutions proposed during the Colored Educational Convention. W. D. Johnson describes the founding of the Colored Fair Association:
On August 11, 186
9, a mass meeting was held at Ladies’ Hall in the city of Lexington. Henry King, from his active and earnest work and enthusiasm in the enterprise, was made Chairman, and Henry Britton, Secretary. The object of the meeting being stated by the chairman a permanent organization was formed. Henry King was elected President; H. H. Harvey, Vice President; James Turner, Treasurer; Henry Scroggins, Secretary; and a Board of Directors, consisting of five members, James Harvey, Thomas Slaughter, George Perry, E. G. Smoot and Theodore Clay. These were the first to be thus honored by this enterprise.80
At the initial meeting, the board developed a mission and vision for the organization, which was no doubt directly in line with the Louisville convention's mandate to change the circumstances of colored people throughout the state of Kentucky. The members decided to offer a limited number of shares, at $10 per share, to outside investors; this not only expanded the funds available to the organization but also allowed individuals to invest their hard-earned money in the development of their community. Indeed, in addition to using their capital to expand opportunities for freedmen in the region, the board created a tool for racial uplift and local pride.81
Under the leadership of Henry King, George Perry, James Turner, and Henry Scroggins, the organization generated the necessary momentum to demonstrate racial progress in agricultural and mechanical enterprises, animal husbandry, and entrepreneurship, giving Lexington the prestige of being the most successful black community in the state. The association's first fair was held October 6 to 9 on rented land outside Lexington, near Newtown Pike Road. From all accounts, the event was a success, showcasing local produce and livestock raised by black farmers; women's proficiency in preserving, baking, sewing, and knitting; and an array of entertainments, ranging from horse and trotting races, band performances, and speakers—most of whom pontificated on the importance of republican values, temperance, and gaining the vote. Although exact numbers are unavailable, evidence suggests that between 2,000 and 6,000 visitors attended the fair over the four-day period, with an estimated net profit of $1,368.82
Over the course of twenty-five years, the breadth and depth of Lexington's Colored Fair Association grew, attracting tens of thousands of visitors to the Bluegrass to witness one of the finest displays of achievement “among the Afro-American race.”83 In ways both intended and unintended, the entire African American community benefited from the annual fairs. Exhibitors displayed their wares, crops, and skills, competing for hundreds of dollars in premiums; the city's hack drivers, porters, food and drink hawkers, and artisans plied their trades and generated income. Certainly, black business leaders took advantage of the annual fairs to generate income, demonstrate their usefulness in industry and agriculture, and distinguish themselves from the less reliable and less vigilant. The leadership of Lexington's Colored Fair Association promoted eternal striving as the price of liberty and success.84 By the end of the 1860s, black Lexington was coming alive, and individuals were working together to increase their communal wealth.
By 1869, America Murphy had made the transition from a rural to an urban existence. Records show that between 1866 and 1869, America moved her family from one end of the city to the other, no doubt in search of stability. After leaving the Jordans’ home on Third Street and Corporate Line, she moved to 17 Jordan's Row;85 apparently, America moved her family as often as needed to maintain a roof over their heads. Over that four-year period, Isaac might have attended one or more of the schools in Lexington: the Howard School, on Church Street between Upper and Mulberry; the school at Pleasant Baptist Church, on the southeast corner of Lower and Maxwell; the Talbott School, on Upper Street between Third and Fourth Streets; the First African Baptist Church school, in the building on the southwest corner of Short and Dewees; the Methodist Episcopal church school, on the south side of Water Street near Ayres Alley; or the Christian church school on Fourth, between Upper and Mulberry.
In the fall of 1867 the Howard School had more than 500 students attending classes, and six-year-old Isaac might have been among them. Through the guidance of Howard's qualified teaching staff, children like Isaac had every opportunity to develop a deep sense of morality and discipline, while acquiring the virtuous character traits needed to succeed. Most important, teachers such as Samuel Hale and Belle Mitchell would have reinforced the lessons Isaac's mother had instilled in him during the waning years of slavery and after their move to Lexington.
There is documentation that on April 19, 1869, America applied for her late husband's pension through the Pension Bureau Office in Lexington.86 Unfortunately, we do not know whether she could support her claim to the bureau's satisfaction. Indeed, because slave marriages were not recognized as legal and binding, and because of the complex nature of slavery, former slaves might have several spouses and numerous children from different relationships. Therefore, a pension claim for a black Civil War soldier likely required a rigorous examination of the facts. If she managed to prove her claim through an array of self-generated and corresponding documentation—applications, letters from character witnesses, and affidavits—America would have received payments of $10 a month—a significant amount of money for a woman trying to survive in a postslavery society where friends could be hard to come by.
As noted earlier, sometime between the winter of 1868 and the spring of 1869, America's daughter died. Tax records indicate that America, one child, and a male over the age twenty-one lived together at an undisclosed residence in Lexington. There are two plausible explanations for this living arrangement. The first is that America found a new male companion, and she and her son took up residence with him. This could have been Simon Williams, who is listed on the 1870 census as the head of household at the First Ward residence where America, three of her siblings (Anne, James, and another sister named Anne), and her son Isaac all lived. Williams, a Civil War veteran who had served in the Twelfth U.S. Colored Heavy Artillery at the Battle of Richmond, returned to Camp Nelson at the end of the war to await his discharge from the army. There is a good chance that America knew Williams from Camp Nelson. After mustering out on April 4, 1866, Williams likely arrived in Lexington and became acquainted (or reacquainted) with America. With both of them seeking shelter and companionship, they may have decided to move in together.
The second explanation is that America, who had been born in Lexington, reunited with her father, Green Murphy. Evidence suggests that Green was none other than Jeremiah Murphy, the white livery stable owner who, years earlier, had defended preacher London Ferrill from Harry Quills. One of the first innkeepers in Lexington, Jeremiah Murphy established his business on Mulberry Street in 1806. Within ten years, he purchased several pieces of property throughout the Bluegrass, including a stable “next to the county jail,” where he maintained horses for leisure and business activities.87 Although not on record as a turfman of any significance, he was involved in the early development of the industry west of the Allegheny Mountains.88 In 1834 he sold a portion of his landholdings to the Kentucky Association, established to “improve the breed of horses by encouraging the sports of the turf.”89 Records from 1840 indicate that a Jeremiah Murphy owned three female slaves on his Scott County farm, right outside Lexington, near Georgetown Pike. One of these women might have been a slave named Anne, America's mother.
In the 1859 Lexington Directory, Jeremiah Murphy is listed as the proprietor of a livery stable on the east side of Mulberry between Main and High Streets.90 Based on the location of his stable, his involvement with horses, and his long history in the Lexington community, he likely had access to the living accommodations at 17 Jordan's Row (where America moved with her family), the building that once housed Henry Clay's law office and would later house the offices of Benjamin Gratz (B. G.) Bruce's Kentucky Livestock Record, an early authority on Thoroughbreds and horse racing. What is more, Murphy owned the lot near Cedar and Broadway that America would eventually purchase. Thus, it seems likely that Jeremiah and Green Murphy were one and the same—and America's father�
�and he was probably the adult male living with her in 1869. Besides shelter and protection, this arrangement would have allowed eight-year-old Isaac to get to know his grandfather, listen to his stories from the past, and ask questions about his family: Who were his relatives? What was his grandmother like? And perhaps other, more uncomfortable questions about race, slavery, and the selling of human beings. We will never know, but this void in the historical narrative is ripe for inquiry.
Based on different accounts, we have an image of Green Murphy as a central figure in the everyday life of early antebellum Lexington. An acquaintance of Robert Todd, Henry Clay, and John Wesley Hunt, Murphy was a businessman who loved horses. He was probably responsible for introducing Isaac to horses and discussing the beautiful beasts with the boy. One might assume that having a grandfather who wanted him to become a jockey—a story corroborated by Eli Jordan—shaped Isaac's destiny. But it is reasonable to believe that because of his small size, he eventually would have been recruited by turfmen to ride their horses as an exercise boy. Clearly, living in Lexington—one of the centers of Thoroughbred horses and racing prior to the Civil War—provided the perfect opportunity for Isaac to pursue a career as a jockey. It is possible that in addition to encouraging Isaac's career, Green Murphy influenced his work ethic and character, helping to make Isaac the exemplar of virtue and eloquence he would be known for.
In addition to his grandfather, young Isaac was watched over by his mother, his other kinfolk, and community members who knew that the temptations and distractions of urban life could easily lead even the most well-mannered child astray, into a world of frivolity and mischief. In Lexington, the burgeoning black community worked hard to establish the infrastructure necessary to support the concept of respectability as an invaluable currency gained through education, temperance, and achievement. This infrastructure functioned to communicate a sense of success that all could admire and aspire to. In other words, Murphy's future success as a jockey, how he carried himself, and how he was perceived by his peers were connected to the sense of racial destiny being infused in the first generation of black children able to attend school and grow to maturity with confidence in the Bluegrass region.
The Prince of Jockeys Page 16
