By Allison Silverman, B.A. in History and Museum Studies, Christopher Newport University (’25), and Sheri Shuck-Hall, PhD, Professor of History, Christopher Newport University
When you think about the Revolutionary War, what historical figures come to mind? Typically, people envision famous Patriots like George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and Paul Revere. However, these famous Founding Fathers were not the only people who fought in the conflict. One often-overlooked group was enslaved Black men. Enslaved individuals fought on both sides of the war, and many used their military service to seek freedom. Among these individuals were Ned Streater, Harry Washington, William “Billy” Lee, Cesar Tarrant, and James Armistead Lafayette.[1]
Ned Streater: Reserved Resistance and the Quiet Power of Legal Action
Ned Streater fought in the American Revolution on the side of the Patriots. In his early twenties, he was sent to serve in the Nansemond County Militia as a substitute for his enslaver, Willis Streater. He served with the militia during the Battle of Great Bridge in 1775 and again during the Virginia campaign of 1780–1781. From 1780 to 1781, he served under Captain Elvinton Knott in the counties of Nansemond and Norfolk for twelve months before receiving an honorable discharge.
During his service, he fought in the Battle of Great Bridge in Norfolk County (December 9, 1775) and in a skirmish at “Pip Pot Swamp” in Nansemond County. Streater was wounded at Pip Pot Swamp, leaving his leg severely deformed and permanently disabled. After his discharge, he remained enslaved by the Streater family until Willis Streater’s death in 1792. Afterward, he was enslaved by Stephen Graham until Graham’s death in 1810.[2]
Ned Streater sued for his freedom in 1814, leveraging his honorable Revolutionary War service under an Act of Assembly passed in October 1783. This act emancipated enslaved people who had served successfully as substitutes for free persons but had been forced back into bondage after the war. Streater won his case, secured his emancipation, and was awarded $165 in damages. In 1824, he sued for compensation for the years he was unlawfully enslaved after the passage of the 1783 act, winning an additional $105 for the years 1783 to 1792. The court also awarded Streater $210 for his unlawful enslavement from 1792 to 1810. Finally, in 1833, his pension application was approved, granting him $112.55. He passed away just one month later at the age of 78.[3]
Choice, Resistance, and Individual Legacy
Streater was given no choice in his initial military service, as he was forced to take his enslaver’s place. However, he chose exactly how to resist his condition after the war. By leveraging his military record in the courtroom, he successfully fought for his emancipation. He then continued his legal battle to secure financial compensation for the decades of his life stolen by unlawful enslavement. Ultimately, Streater’s legacy is defined by his honorable wartime service and his relentless determination to use the American legal system to secure the freedom and restitution that were rightfully his.
Harry Washington: Resistance on the Run
Harry Washington was purchased by George Washington in 1763 and worked for a time on his Mount Vernon plantation. In 1771, Harry made his first attempt to escape, but he was captured and returned to the plantation within a few weeks.[4]
In late 1775, Lord Dunmore, Virginia’s British colonial governor, issued a proclamation offering freedom to enslaved people belonging to rebellious colonists if they were willing to fight for the Crown. The proclamation stated:
“And I do hereby further declare all indentured Servants, Negroes, or others, (appertaining to Rebels,) free that are able and willing to bear Arms, they joining His Majesty’s Troops as soon as may be…”[5]
Within a month of the proclamation, a Black loyalist regiment known as “Dunmore’s Ethiopian Regiment” was formed.[6]
In the summer of 1776, Harry escaped from Mount Vernon again, and this time he did not go back. He successfully reached British lines and enlisted in the Ethiopian Regiment to secure his freedom. Not long after, Patriot forces pushed the British out of Virginia. Many members of the Ethiopian Regiment were left behind due to a deadly smallpox outbreak, but Lord Dunmore’s remaining forces, including Harry, evacuated to New York to join the main British army. Following the disbandment of the Ethiopian Regiment, Harry became a corporal in the Black Pioneers, a British military unit dedicated to engineering, building fortifications, and providing vital logistical support.[7]
When the war ended, Harry evacuated to Nova Scotia alongside other British loyalists. Though granted his freedom and a plot of land, he and other Black Loyalists faced severe discrimination and poor conditions from white loyalists. Seeking a better life, Harry and about half of the Black Loyalists in Nova Scotia chose to migrate to Sierra Leone in West Africa to establish a new settlement. Harry flourished there for a time, but when he participated in a rebellion to liberate the inhabitants from the oppressive rule of the British Sierra Leone Company, he was captured and exiled.[8]
Choice, Resistance, and Individual Legacy
Harry Washington chose to flee his enslaver and join the British Army to seize his independence. This choice set him on a historic trajectory where he built fortifications for the Crown, actively opposed the military forces of his former enslaver, George Washington, and helped establish a colony of free Black settlers in Africa. Harry resisted slavery by directly dismantling his own bondage and taking up arms against the society that oppressed him. Though his resistance did not bring about a British victory, it secured his personal emancipation and left a legacy of unyielding resistance in the global fight for human liberty.
William “Billy” Lee: Relationships as Resistance
William “Billy” Lee was purchased by George Washington in 1768 from Mary Ball Lee, the widow of Colonel John Lee. Billy served as George Washington’s valet and personal servant. When Washington assumed command of the Continental Army, Billy accompanied him to the front lines, remaining by his side for nearly the entire war. In addition to his duties as a valet, Billy was entrusted with managing Washington’s important military papers and equipment. This service kept Billy away from Mount Vernon for eight long years.[9]
Following the war, Billy returned to Mount Vernon in 1783 to continue his service. Over time, he became a well-known figure, and visitors to the estate often requested to meet him due to his famous wartime service. Later in life, Billy suffered an unfortunate series of accidents that broke both of his knees, leaving him permanently disabled. Despite these severe injuries, Billy insisted on traveling with Washington to New York for his presidential inauguration. However, the rigorous journey aggravated his condition, forcing him to halt in Philadelphia to recover. Washington eventually had him sent back to Mount Vernon. Though Billy partially recovered and received specialized leg braces that allowed him to walk to a limited degree, he was ultimately unable to keep up with the fast-paced demands of the presidential household and returned permanently to Mount Vernon.[10]
Because of Billy’s long-standing loyalty, George Washington grew deeply appreciative of his service and found it difficult to deny his requests. For instance, when Billy asked if his wife, Margaret Thomas—a free Black woman from Philadelphia—could live with him at Mount Vernon, Washington agreed to arrange her travel despite his personal reservations about her. Washington noted that he could not deny the request since Billy had “lived with me so long and followed my fortunes through the War with fidility.”[11]
This enduring gratitude was officially codified in Washington’s will. While Washington directed that the enslaved people he owned be freed only after the death of his wife, Martha Washington, Billy was the sole exception. He was granted immediate freedom upon George Washington’s death, along with an annual annuity of thirty dollars. Washington wrote:
“…this I give him as a testimony of my sense of his attachment to me, and for his faithful services during the Revolutionary War.”[12]
Billy’s final years were plagued by health problems and severe alcoholism, which he likely used to cope with the chronic pain in his knees. He began to suffer from fits of delirium tremens, and one morning in 1810, a servant sent to assist him during a fit discovered that Billy had passed away.[13]
Choice, Resistance, and Individual Legacy
William “Billy” Lee chose to stay by Washington’s side through the hardships of the war, intentionally forging a close, indispensable relationship with the Commander-in-Chief. This strategic closeness provided him with autonomy, influence, and leverage unavailable to other enslaved people. Billy left a unique legacy of working toward his independence within the narrow margins of his reality, utilizing his proximity to power to secure personal freedom and economic stability.
Commander Cesar Tarrant: Freedom for One, the Separation of a Family
Cesar Tarrant was an enslaved Virginian who fought on the Patriot side during the American Revolution. During the war, the Virginia State Navy frequently employed enslaved maritime laborers as pilot-boat captains, and Cesar became one of their most accomplished commanders. Before the war, his enslaver had trained him as a ship’s pilot, a common practice in the coastal Hampton Roads area. When the conflict began, Cesar entered the naval service and was stationed aboard the state schooner Patriot, engaging British vessels near Hampton. While commanding the Patriot, he famously captured the Fanny, a British brig carrying vital military supplies intended for the British forces occupying Boston.[14]
In 1789, several years after the war ended, the Virginia General Assembly officially purchased Cesar from his enslaver and manumitted him in recognition of his “meritorious services” as a naval pilot.[15] While this was a monumental victory for Cesar, his freedom was bittersweet: his wife and children remained enslaved. Cesar spent the remainder of his life working to purchase his family’s freedom. He successfully bought the freedom of his wife and his daughter, Nancy. Sadly, he passed away before he could secure the funds to free his other daughter, Liddy, and her young son, Sampson.[16]
Choice, Resistance, and Individual Legacy
Cesar Tarrant chose to deploy his exceptional skills as a maritime pilot to advance the Patriot cause, guiding the Patriot to strategic victories and eventually earning his legal freedom. His resistance was defined by his tireless effort to build a secure life for his family. Unfortunately, his story highlights the brutal realities of the post-war era: despite his heroic naval service, the institution of slavery kept his family fractured. Tarrant leaves a legacy of extraordinary bravery at sea, tempered by a poignant reminder of the enduring structural battles enslaved veterans faced to protect those they loved.
James Armistead Lafayette: Reconnaissance, Risk, and Reward
James Armistead was an enslaved man who became one of the most successful spies of the American Revolution. Originally enslaved by William Armistead in New Kent County, James received his enslaver’s permission to enter the service of the Marquis de Lafayette in 1781. As the war entered its final phase in the South, Patriot commanders desperately needed to know whether British General Charles Cornwallis would march north to New York, head south to reinforce British troops in the Carolinas, or fortify a position in Virginia. Operating as a double agent, James risked his life by entering the British camp at Portsmouth under the guise of a runaway slave looking to assist the Crown. Because the British did not suspect him, James moved freely through their camps and gathered critical intelligence. He successfully conveyed detailed information regarding Cornwallis’s movements and eventual fortification of Yorktown to Lafayette, enabling the allied French and American forces to trap the British and win the decisive Battle of Yorktown.[17]
In 1786, James Armistead petitioned the Virginia General Assembly for his freedom. He detailed his extensive service to the Patriot cause, emphasizing that he had gathered essential intelligence “at the peril of his life.”[18] Supported by a strong letter of recommendation written by Lafayette himself, the legislature granted his petition, purchasing him from his enslaver and declaring him a free man. In honor of his commander and friend, James adopted the general’s surname, presenting himself to the world as James Armistead Lafayette.[19]
Choice, Resistance, and Individual Legacy
James Armistead Lafayette chose to undertake a highly dangerous espionage mission that directly altered the course of global history. He brilliantly turned the racial biases of the British military against them, using his status as an enslaved man as the perfect cover to gather intelligence without arousing suspicion. Without his actions, the decisive victory at Yorktown might never have happened. He left a legacy as a master of intelligence operations and a pivotal figure in securing American independence.
Seeking Freedom on Both Sides
Whether by choice or by coercion, enslaved individuals were active participants on both sides of the Revolutionary War. Thousands of individuals accepted Lord Dunmore’s offer to join British lines, while others cast their lot with the Patriots, using their military records to demand their natural rights from post-war legislatures. Regardless of the uniform they wore, these men shared a common objective: navigating a brutal war to escape the institution of slavery.
Collective Legacy
These individuals leave behind a collective legacy of tactical resistance against human bondage. While their political allegiances differed, their true battle was always for personal autonomy and the preservation of their families. Their contributions proved vital to the operational success of both armies, demonstrating that the story of American independence cannot be fully understood without acknowledging the Black veterans who fought for a freedom of their own.
What would you have done if you had been placed in their position? Would you have joined the British or the Patriots? How would you have navigated the narrow paths available to resist slavery?
Their stories remind us that there are many ways to fight against oppression. Though the individuals in this exhibit fought on opposing sides of a geopolitical war, they were ultimately allies in the same human cause: the pursuit of liberty.
Allison Silverman graduated with a B.A. in History and minors in Museum Studies and Leadership Studies from Christopher Newport University in 2025. Allison completed this exhibit as a service-learning project in partnership with the Christopher Newport University Public History Center. During her time at CNU, she also completed an internship with the Poquoson Museum, gaining experience in collections care, historical research, and artifact cataloging. She plans to pursue a career in public history.
Notes
[1] Willard M. Wallace, “American Revolution: Conflict Begins in Massachusetts,” Encyclopædia Britannica, April 21, 2025.
[2] Will Graves, “Pension application of Ned Streater S7645,” Southern Campaigns Revolutionary War Pension Statements & Rosters, 1–3, Historical Text Archive.
[3] Graves, “Pension application of Ned Streater S7645,” 1–3.
[4] Judith L. Van Buskirk, Standing in Their Own Light: African American Patriots in the American Revolution (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2017), 56.
[5] Woody Holton, Black Americans in the Revolutionary Era: A Brief History with Documents (Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2009), 53–55.
[6] Van Buskirk, Standing in Their Own Light, 54.
[7] Van Buskirk, Standing in Their Own Light, 55–56; Alan Gilbert, Black Patriots and Loyalists: Fighting for Emancipation in the War for Independence (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012), 37; Simon Schama, Rough Crossings: Britain, the Slaves, and the American Revolution (New York: HarperCollins, 2006), 9.
[8] Van Buskirk, Standing in Their Own Light, 56; Schama, Rough Crossings, 9.
[9] Mary V. Thompson, “William Lee & Oney Judge: A Look at George Washington & Slavery,” Journal of the American Revolution, June 19, 2014, JAR Archive; Gilbert, Black Patriots and Loyalists, 108.
[10] Thompson, “William Lee & Oney Judge.”
[11] Thompson, “William Lee & Oney Judge.”
[12] Thompson, “William Lee & Oney Judge.”
[13] Thompson, “William Lee & Oney Judge.”
[14] Gilbert, Black Patriots and Loyalists, 170; Kolby Bilal, “Black Pilots, Patriots, and Pirates: African-American Participation in the Virginia State and British Navies during the Revolutionary War in Virginia” (master’s thesis, William & Mary, 2000), 13–14, W&M ScholarWorks.
[15] “An act for the purchase and manumitting negro Caesar,” in Hening’s Statutes at Large, ed. William Waller Hening (Richmond: Samuel Pleasants, 1823), 13:102, VAGenWeb Archive; Van Buskirk, Standing in Their Own Light, 187.
[16] Gilbert, Black Patriots and Loyalists, 170; Van Buskirk, Standing in Their Own Light, 173, 187.
[17] Gilbert, Black Patriots and Loyalists, 169; Van Buskirk, Standing in Their Own Light, 187.
[18] Van Buskirk, Standing in Their Own Light, 187.
[19] Van Buskirk, Standing in Their Own Light, 187; Gilbert, Black Patriots and Loyalists, 169.
By Cassandra Vay, B.A. in History and Museum Studies, Christopher Newport University (’26), and Sheri Shuck-Hall, PhD, Professor of History, Christopher Newport University
Following the French and Indian War, Great Britain found itself deeply in debt. To recoup these losses, Parliament passed a series of levies on everyday goods in the American colonies, culminating in the controversial Tea Act of 1773. Because colonists were taxed without representation in Parliament, protests erupted across the thirteen colonies against what they viewed as an unjust overreach of power.
Tensions escalated as British troops began patrolling colonial streets. The tipping point arrived on April 19, 1775, when British regulars attempted to disarm colonial militias at Lexington and Concord, sparking the Revolutionary War. Recognizing that the colonies needed a unified front to withstand the British military, the Continental Congress established the Continental Army in June 1775 and appointed George Washington as Commander in Chief.[1] This exhibit explores the daily life of a Continental soldier through the clothing, gear, and personal items they wore and carried.
The “Common” Soldier
The Continental Army consisted mostly of civilian farmers with little to no military training, typically aged 15 to 40. Joseph Plumb Martin, a Massachusetts farmer who grew up as the imperial crisis deepened, serves as an excellent example of the common soldier. Martin enlisted in the 8th Connecticut Regiment in 1776 and served until the war ended in 1783.
Years later, Martin published his experiences in A Narrative of Some of the Adventures, Dangers, and Sufferings of a Revolutionary Soldier. His memoir vividly details the harsh realities of camp life: chronic sleep deprivation, dwindling food rations, and rampant disease. Because Martin served for the entirety of the war and meticulously recorded his experiences—including an inventory of his knapsack and firsthand accounts of the battlefield—his work stands as an invaluable record of the common soldier’s plight.[2]
From Enslavement to Enlistment
Initially, the Continental Congress and individual colonies barred enslaved men from enlistment. White leaders feared arming enslaved individuals, worried they might turn those weapons against their enslavers. However, as casualties mounted and enlistment numbers dwindled, desperation forced a change in policy. In 1778, Rhode Island passed an act allowing the enlistment of enslaved men, offering them freedom in exchange for their service. This led to the reorganization of the 1st Rhode Island Regiment, which became famous for its high concentration of African American soldiers. Other state militias integrated around this time as well. Tragically, some white enslavers sent enslaved men to serve as substitutes, only to force them back into bondage once their enlistment expired. This history underscores a profound irony: while the United States was founded on the ideals of freedom and liberty, many African American veterans were denied those rights for nearly a century. Nevertheless, their courage and sacrifice proved vital to the American victory.[3]
Threads of the Revolution
At the war’s outbreak, the Continental Army’s uniforms were anything but uniform. Many recruits arrived wearing the civilian clothes on their backs. To remedy this, the linen hunting shirt quickly became a staple of the army’s attire. Hunting shirts were cheap, comfortable in unpredictable weather, and deeply symbolic. General Washington strongly endorsed them, hoping British regulars would mistake any man wearing one for an expert frontier rifleman. This resourcefulness helped a civilian army project strength against highly trained British forces. Hunting shirts remained standard issue for much of the conflict until a more systematic supply chain emerged.[4]
In October 1779, General Washington officially authorized standardized uniforms for the Continental Army. These consisted of blue wool regimental coats, which explicitly distinguished American troops from the British “Redcoats.” To foster regional pride, coats featured distinct colored facings on the collars and cuffs. For instance, regiments from Virginia, Delaware, Pennsylvania, and Maryland wore red trim, while New England units wore white. Despite these regional variations, the matching blue coats unified the army and boosted morale.[5]
A dependable pair of shoes was equally critical. The army issued soldiers a single pair of black buckle shoes, either crafted by local cobblers or imported. However, supply lines rarely kept pace with wear and tear. Chronic transportation breakdowns frequently left troops barefoot, most famously during the winter encampment at Valley Forge. Marching through mud, gravel, and snow without proper footwear caused severe foot injuries, rendering many soldiers immobile and unfit for duty.[6]
Essentials of War: What Soldiers Carried
While the Continental Army tried to supply uniforms, rations, knapsacks, and weapons, keeping soldiers equipped was a constant struggle. Revolutionary knapsacks were typically constructed of canvas or leather and fitted with shoulder straps to distribute heavy loads. A standard knapsack had to be large enough to hold weapon accessories, a wool blanket, sparse food rations, and small personal belongings. In addition to their packs, soldiers slung a water canteen and a cartridge box over their shoulders while carrying a heavy flintlock musket.[7]
Constantly exposed to the elements, soldiers relied on army-issued wool blankets for survival. When fast-moving campaigns prevented regiments from setting up proper encampments, soldiers slept directly on the bare ground, using their blankets as makeshift beds. Though a wool blanket offered some relief, sleeping exposed to rain and snow was hazardous. Despite these severe conditions, the blanket remained an essential piece of survival gear, often doubling as bedding and emergency shelter.[8]
Starving for Liberty: The Reality of Rations
Official Continental Army rations consisted of salted meats, hard bread (hardtack), beans, and occasional rations of rum or whiskey. Soldiers also received bags of flour, which they mixed with water to bake crude “firecakes” directly on campfire stones. These provisions were chosen because they could be preserved for long periods and easily stored in a knapsack. Unfortunately, logistical failures meant soldiers rarely received full rations. In one notable setback at Fort Lee, a shortage of transport wagons forced troops to abandon thousands of barrels of provisions to the advancing enemy. Because the army continually struggled with distribution, soldiers suffered from severe caloric deficits. While troops occasionally successfully foraged the countryside, chronic malnutrition left them vulnerable to starvation and fatal diseases.[9]
Clean drinking water was equally scarce on the march. Soldiers relied heavily on local streams, creeks, and rivers. Many of these water sources were contaminated by nearby camps, causing widespread waterborne illnesses. Some soldiers mistakenly believed that mixing rum into their canteens would kill harmful germs—a common misconception of the era. Despite the risks, these waterways were their only option for drinking, cooking, bathing, and washing clothes. To carry their supply, each soldier was issued a wooden canteen that held roughly one quart of water, fitted with a leather or hemp strap for easy transport.[10]
Fighting with Flintlocks
The flintlock musket was the standard infantry weapon for both sides during the Revolutionary War. While the British carried the famous “Brown Bess,” Continental soldiers primarily carried the French Charleville musket, supplied in large quantities following the 1778 alliance with France. The Charleville fired a round lead ball with an effective range of about eighty yards. Because smoothbore muskets were highly inaccurate, tactics required regiments to stand in tight formations and fire at close range. Joseph Plumb Martin recalled that their orders “were not to fire till we could see the buttons upon their clothes.”[11] This style of close-combat warfare resulted in devastating casualties. Furthermore, the muskets were roughly five feet long and weighed nearly ten pounds—an exhausting additional burden for soldiers already weighed down by heavy packs.[12]
To feed these weapons, soldiers carried ammunition in a leather cartridge box. Each paper cartridge contained a pre-measured charge of gunpowder and a lead musket ball. To load the weapon, a soldier had to bite off the folded top of the paper cartridge, pour a small amount of powder into the priming pan, dump the rest down the barrel, and ram the ball home. An experienced soldier could reload and fire about three to four times a minute. Maintaining a rapid rate of fire was imperative given the terrifying proximity of Revolutionary battlefields.[13]
Currency, Compensation, and the Cost of Liberty
The Continental Army scaled wages by rank. A colonel—the highest rank below general—earned 60 dollars (450 shillings) a month, while a private received just 6 2/3 dollars (50 shillings). Compounding the low pay, individual states issued their own distinct paper currencies and silver coins. This hyperinflation and variation made it incredibly difficult for soldiers to purchase supplies when marching through different regions. To survive, many soldiers resorted to bartering valuable personal items, such as metal coat buttons or their own meager flour rations, with local shopkeepers. Soldiers who managed to keep their wages safe typically stored them in leather pocketbooks tucked deep inside their knapsacks.[14]
Leisure Behind the Lines
Though soldiers spent most of their time drilling, marching, or fighting, they occasionally had downtime. To pass the hours and combat homesickness, men engaged in leisure activities such as playing board games, practicing musical instruments, reading, and writing letters to loved ones. Many carried playing cards or dice in their knapsacks. Although General Washington strictly prohibited gambling in camp to prevent fights, soldiers frequently wagered their meager currency on card games anyway. These pastimes offered a vital, temporary escape from the grim realities of war, fostering camaraderie and boosting morale when it was needed most.[15]
The Things They Carried—And the Things That Carried Them
Each of these artifacts offers an intimate window into the daily trials of the Continental soldier during the long struggle for American independence. From weapons of war to simple playing cards, every object carried a specific purpose designed to keep a soldier alive in camp and effective on the battlefield.
The endurance of this ragtag civilian army ultimately culminated in the defeat of British forces at the Battle of Yorktown in 1781, effectively securing American independence. These simple objects belonged to real people who fought and died to build a new nation. While military technology, uniforms, and gear have evolved significantly over the last two hundred and fifty years, the fundamental needs of the soldier remain unchanged; modern American troops still rely on the same basic wartime essentials—canteens, blankets, and packs—that carried the Continental Army to victory.
To learn more about the material culture of the Revolutionary War, visit the American Revolution Museum at Yorktown and the Virginia War Museum in Newport News, Virginia.
Acknowledgements
We would like to thank Gabrielle Pressley, Museum Education Coordinator at the Virginia War Museum, and Felicia Abrams, School Programs Manager at the Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation, for spearheading this exhibit, sharing their historical expertise, and supplying educational replicas.
About the Author
Cassandra Vay graduated with a B.A. in History and Museum Studies in 2026 from Christopher Newport University. She plans to pursue a career in public history.
Notes
[1] Charles P. Neimeyer, The Revolutionary War (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2007), x–8.
[2] James Kirby Martin, Ordinary Courage: The Revolutionary War Adventures of Joseph Plumb Martin (Newark: John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated, 2012), 26.
[3] Noel B. Poirier, “A Legacy of Integration: The African American Citizen–Soldier and the Continental Army,” Army History, no. 56 (2002): 17–22.
Olivia Brubaker, B.A. in History, Christopher Newport University (Class of 2024)
Sheri Shuck-Hall, Ph.D., Professor of History, Christopher Newport University
Housed in Virginia’s Gloucester Museum of History, there is a special collection of Black educators’ applications for teaching positions at the Gloucester Training School. Local Black leader, T.C. Walker, and fellow community members founded the Rosenwald school in 1921 to improve the lives of Black children for generations. It was the first public secondary school to provide free education for Blacks in Gloucester County in a time when access to schools was not guaranteed. Featuring these teacher applications, this exhibit reveals a story of persistence—a history of Black educators in Virginia who fought for equal access to education.
T.C. Walker and the Gloucester Training School
Thomas Calhoun Walker was born into slavery on June 16, 1862, in Gloucester County, Virginia. On January 1, 1863, the Emancipation Proclamation freed him and his family, but they remained in Gloucester. Walker assumed many roles over the course of his lifetime; he was a teacher, principal, lawyer, and government official. While these are significant accomplishments on their own, their weight is elevated with the knowledge that Walker received a very minimal education during his childhood. Yet, despite the barriers, Walker persisted in securing his education. Although he failed the entrance exam, Walker worked out a deal with Samuel Chapman Armstrong, founder of the Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute (1868), to take classes at night in exchange for working on the campus farm during the day. Following his graduation from the Hampton Institute, Walker returned to Gloucester County and taught at Old Poplar School for six years.[1]
Photograph of T.C. Walker. “Frontispiece Photograph in Thomas Calhoun Walker Manuscript (ca.1950).” Special Collections Research Center, Earl Gregg Swem Library, College of William and Mary.
Even after leaving the classroom, Walker remained committed to improving Black education. Prior to the founding of the Gloucester Training School, very few Blacks in the county received an education past the 5th grade. Walker sought to build a new school that would teach students through the 7th grade. However, Walker was met with some resistance from the county’s school board, emphasizing that Blacks did not require an education beyond basic literacy, let alone exposure to more advanced material. The school board consequently denied Walker monetary assistance. Walker had to find funding on his own.[2]
Julius Rosenwald and Booker T. Washington at Tuskegee Institute, 1915. Courtesy of Special Collections Research Center, University of Chicago Library.
In 1917, Julius Rosenwald, a Progressive Jewish American businessman, philanthropist, and the president and CEO of Sears, Roebuck, established the Rosenwald Fund that provided matching funds for the construction of Black schools in Southern communities that needed it the most. The Rosenwald school building program initially began in Alabama with the help of Rosenwald’s trusted friend and colleague, Booker T. Washington, who had been T.C. Walker’s mentor at Hampton Institute. After Washington’s death, the program developed into a fund that continued to help Black communities build schools despite continuing discrimination in the South. Walker convinced Rosenwald that Blacks in Gloucester County would benefit immensely with advanced education and secured the grant.[3]
Superintendent Kelly, Mr. Gresham, Principal T. C. Walker, Miss Smith, and others standing outside of Gloucester Training School (c. 1923). Jackson Davis, photographer. “Rosenwald School Superintendent Kenney, Mr. Gresham, Principal Walker, Miss Smith. Building Construction. Gloucester County Training School.” Photograph, c. 1923. Jackson Davis Collection of African American Photographs. Courtesy of the University of Virginia Special Collections.
The Rosenwald Fund required community buy-in and local government support. To receive the money, the white school board had to manage it once built and work with the local Black community to raise matching funds. Blacks also had to contribute their own money or provide labor towards the building’s construction. Rosenwald’s challenge grants motivated Black and white cooperation, as well as aid from local governments and school boards. T.C. Walker took the lead and obtained large private donations and fundraised within the Black community to help secure the matching funds necessary to open the school. Fundraising was significant in that it acutely depicts the extent to which Black schools relied upon financial support from benefactors and the local community.[4]
Students and teachers standing in front of the finished Gloucester Training School, 1921. Courtesy of the Gloucester Museum of History.
With the support of the Rosenwald Fund, it was the first time that Black children in the county could receive free education at the secondary level. A quote from Walker best summarizes the significance that this school had on Gloucester’s Black community:
“The Training School was the only place in Gloucester where our boys and girls could go beyond the seventh grade…. But so eager were our people to take advantage of what the school offered that many pupils came from twenty or twenty-five miles in motor trucks or automobiles. Others drove from twelve to fifteen miles a day in buggies.”[5]
This willingness to travel such distances to the Gloucester Training School displays not only the need for the school in the area, but also the widespread desire for advanced education.[6]
T.C. Walker and a group of builders from both the Black and white Gloucester community outside of the Gloucester Training School. Jackson Davis, photographer. “Gloucester County Training School, Group of builders at work,” Photograph, c. 1921. Jackson Davis Collection of African American Photographs. Courtesy of the University of Virginia Special Collections.
Struggle in the Pursuit of Expanding Education
The barriers in establishing the Gloucester Training School were deeply imbedded in a separate but unequal system of education that had roots in the early 1800s. The topic of Black education was highly convoluted and opinions on the matter varied greatly. The 19th century witnessed many policies and beliefs that produced varying results including, but not limited to, state laws prohibiting the education of enslaved people, the establishment of public and private schools for Black children, and white campaigns in support of and in opposition to Black access to education. The mixed messages expressed by white reformers reveals their opposing beliefs that education would foster the transformation of freed people into responsible citizens and their fear of creating a system in which Blacks would lack self-reliance and depend upon whites. Yet even with their emancipation secured with the passage of the 13th Amendment in 1865, Blacks were denied the same educational opportunities as their white counterparts moving forward.[7]
Charles Paxton, photographer. “[Learning is wealth. Wilson, Charley, Rebecca, and Rosa. Slaves from New Orleans.]” Photograph. New York, 1880. Courtesy of the Library of Congress, Gladstone Collection of African American Photographs.
The federal government during the Reconstruction era (1865-1877) reserved some funds towards the education of newly emancipated Blacks. However, providing a proper education proved to be an uphill battle because of the lack of school buildings, educational materials, and available teachers, let alone animosity from many white communities throughout the rest of the 19th century. In the Supreme Court ruling, Homer A. Plessy v. John H. Ferguson in 1896, the “separate but equal” clause legitimized separating Blacks and whites if accommodations were comparable, which they were not. School segregation along with Jim Crow laws continued to deepen the disparity. Blacks also had little to no voice in the oversight of their own schools. The naming of the Gloucester Training School demonstrates this imbalance. Many schools specializing in the higher education of Blacks used terms such as “training school” or “institute” in their names rather than high school or secondary school to distinguish them from white high schools, which received substantially more funding and support.[8]
Students outside of Gloucester Training School dormitory. Jackson Davis, photographer. “[Dormitory, Gloucester Training School.]” Photograph, c. 1925. Jackson Davis Collection of African American Photographs. Courtesy of the University of Virginia Special Collections.
Once built, institutional and financial barriers created many obstacles for Black schools, and the educators experienced these difficulties first-hand. Black educators lacked sufficient supplies, taught in dilapidated and overcrowded classrooms, and received substantially less pay than their white counterparts. Although the wage gap differed from district to district, there was a connection between teachers’ salaries and their level of training. Educational backgrounds and prior experience were often significant factors in the hiring process. In the case of the Gloucester Training School, applications asked candidates for their education, including high school, university, and summer schools attended, as well as their prior teaching experience in terms of grade levels and subjects. In the American South, white teachers often had more years of education compared to Black teachers based on access, providing school authorities with justification for the discrepancy in pay among teachers. However, these disparities were not proportional to the differences in years of training received, meaning that Black teachers were still comparatively underpaid in their positions.[9]
Lillian Lemon’s application for a teaching position at the Gloucester Training School, 1922. She had 19 years of teaching experience. She had to indicate whether she could teach sewing, cooking, basketry, drawing, and singing, as well as provide references to her “moral character.” Courtesy of the Gloucester Museum of History.
White school authorities were not ignorant of their control over the Black education system. This much is evident in a statement from Jackson Davis, the white supervisor of rural elementary schools in Virginia, when he declared in 1913: “The school is almost the only point where conscious effort is made by the white people to influence and develop the Negro race, and here is a great opportunity for constructive work.”[10] Though these words seemed to demonstrate white commitment to Black education, they contained pejorative and condescending assumptions. Such leaders used control over the school system to their advantage, particularly in the hiring process of Black teachers. Common instances of misconduct included hiring candidates for personal reasons, or purposefully rejecting educators with more training experience to justify the discriminatory wage gap present between white and Black teachers. The immense emphasis that was placed on teacher salary is evident in the Gloucester Training School applications that asked candidates to provide information such as their present, expected, and lowest salaries that they would accept. In the American South, these corrupt hiring practices and low wages drove many qualified teachers from the profession, adding to the overall poor impressions of Black educators and the distrust of their qualifications.[11]
Lucile Lowry’s application for a teaching position at the Gloucester Training School, 1922. Note the questions asking, “present monthly salary, monthly salary expected, and least you will except.” Courtesy of the Gloucester Museum of History.
In addition to tackling underfunding and discriminatory salaries, Black teachers also served their community beyond the classroom. They had the responsibility of not only advocating for improvements to the school, but also convincing Black families to send their children there. Black activists and politicians, including T.C. Walker, placed these expectations on educators. Grounded in the principle of self-help, a popular philosophy during the early 20th century, it promoted the idea that the best way for Blacks to advance in society was to advocate for themselves. Many Black teachers therefore sought to uphold these principles through education, showing positive outcomes of Blacks working to transform their communities. Walker also stressed that Black educators should act as ambassadors for their race, seeking affluent whites for support. Yet these educators were not always successful in transforming the ideals into reality as many of their efforts fell on deaf ears.[12]
Teachers at the Gloucester Training School and Principal Walker (far right) in front of the school. Jackson Davis, photographer. “Gloucester County Training School, Group of Teachers.” Photograph, c. 1921. Jackson Davis Collection of African American Photographs. Courtesy of the University of Virginia Special Collections.
Education Politics
Black educators often found themselves caught in a Catch-22, between the competing sides of expanding opportunities for Blacks and keeping the status quo. Black educators’ positions promoted change towards an equal education system, but the fate of their jobs still rested in the hands of white school authorities who often resisted. These authorities discouraged progressive changes and sometimes would call upon teachers to act as informers in the Black community. As a result, there was no consensus among schoolteachers. Rather, some attempted to exert influence and promote progress, producing little change, while others begrudgingly accepted the status quo and abandoned—at least temporarily—the movement for equality. In addition to this difficult situation, some Black teachers also faced criticism in their own Black communities. Key reasons included the general fear of white backlash, or the lack of education compared to Black teachers. Reports described how some Blacks viewed teachers as pretentious, especially when they adopted a manner of speech that was too much like that of whites. As a result, some teachers felt alienated and encountered resistance when trying to convince parents to send their children to school. No matter what road teachers took, it was full of obstacles and a long way towards equality.[13]
“Gloucester County Training School.” Photograph. c. 1928. Courtesy of the Library of Virginia: School Buildings Service Photographs Collection.
By the end of World War II, separate but unequal remained the norm. Yet in 1948, the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) supported three legal cases in Virginia, claiming that school systems fostered racial inequality and violated the Fourteenth Amendment. In the Supreme Court case, Alice Lorraine Ashley v. School Board of Gloucester County, Virginia, and J. Walter Kenny, Division Superintendent, the plaintiff sued over the lack of equitable facilities at the Gloucester Training School compared to nearby white schools. Compelling pictures submitted in the case included the lack of indoor plumbing and a clean water source, and an outhouse instead of indoor stalls. The ruling acknowledged that discrimination against Blacks had occurred but failed to offer solutions or enforce any changes.[14]
“Student drawing water from unsanitary well at Gloucester County Training School (note pool of dirty water at entrance that drains back into the well).” Photograph, 1948. Plaintiff’s Exhibit No. 9 for the civil rights case, Alice Lorraine Ashley, et al. v. School Board of Gloucester Co. and J. Walter Kenny, Division Superintendent. Courtesy of the National Archives.Photograph of a bathroom at Gloucester Training School, 1948. Plaintiff’s Exhibit No. 42 for the civil rights case, Alice Lorraine Ashley, et al. v. School Board of Gloucester Co. and J. Walter Kenny, Division Superintendent. Courtesy of the National Archives.Photograph of girl’s bathroom at Botetourt High School, Gloucester, Virginia, 1948.” Plaintiff’s Exhibit No. 28 for the civil rights case, Alice Lorraine Ashley, et al. v. School Board of Gloucester Co. and J. Walter Kenny, Division Superintendent. Courtesy of the National Archives.
It would take more trials in the latter half of the 20th century to begin to uproot the deeply embedded system of discrimination and inequality in Black education—eventually moving towards social progress. In 1954, the Supreme Court ruled in Oliver Brown, et al. v. Board of Education of Topeka, et al. that the segregation of schools was unconstitutional because of its inherent inequality. The slow integration of schools began shortly after, with Blacks facing a new set of challenges, eventually leading to greater, positive changes with the Civil Rights Movement. Yet educational inequalities in the U.S. remain. According to a study in 2019, many schools are not yet fully integrated; over half of K-12 students nationwide live in racially based school districts, many of which continue to struggle with funding disparities.[15]
“Nettie Hunt and daughter Nickie sit on steps of the Supreme Court building on May 18, 1954, the day following the Court’s historic decision in Brown v. Board of Education. Nettie is holding a newspaper with the headline “High Court Bans Segregation in Public Schools.” Courtesy of Brown v. Board (tmcsh.org).
Many of the experiences told here mirror those around the country, yet we do not know the full history due to a general lack of records. The educators’ accounts and their applications serve as important documents, working to tell the stories of individuals who faced many hardships, yet persevered in the effort to improve Black education and the lives of so many children and future generations. To learn more about the history of this school or to view one of the applications in person, please visit the Gloucester Museum of History located at 6539 Main Street in Gloucester, Virginia.
Acknowledgements
We would like to give special thanks to Robert Kelly, Director of the Gloucester Museum of History, for inspiring this exhibit. He graciously allowed Olivia to search through the museum’s special collections to research this service-learning project. We would also like to thank Dr. Beth Wood, Instructor of History at Christopher Newport University, who kindly offered her expertise and peer-reviewed this exhibit.
About the Author
Olivia Brubaker will earn her B.A. in History with minors in Literature, Leadership, and Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies in Spring 2024. She completed this exhibit as a service-learning project in partnership with the Gloucester Museum of History and CNU’s Public History Center. While earning her degree, Olivia interned at Ivy Creek Natural Area and Historic River View Farm in Charlottesville, Virginia, where she gave tours and researched the Carr-Greer family and the farm’s history. She plans to pursue a career in public history.
Notes
[1] T.C. Walker, “Thomas Calhoun Walker Autobiography.” Manuscript. Special Collections Research Center, College of William and Mary Libraries, 22-3, 36, 72.
[3] Peter M. Ascoli, Julius Rosenwald: The Man Who Built Sears, Roebuck and Advanced the Cause of Black Education in the American South (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006), 149-151, 297-299; Walker, “Thomas Calhoun Walker Autobiography,” 171-2.
[7] James D. Anderson, The Education of Blacks in the South, 1860-1935 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1988), 2; See Evelyn Brooks Higgenbotham, Righteous Discontent: The Women’s Movement in the Black Baptist Church, 1880-1920 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2003).
[8] Lester C. Lamon, “Black Public Education in the South, 1861-1920: By Whom, For Whom and Under Whose Control?” Journal of Thought 18, no. 3 (Fall 1983): 76-90, 84-5; Walker, “Thomas Calhoun Walker Autobiography,” 172; Michael Fultz, “Teacher Training and African American Education in the South, 1900-1940.” The Journal of Negro Education 64, no. 2 (Spring 1995): 196-210, 203; Case File for Homer A. Plessy v. John H. Ferguson, inNational Archives NextGen Catalog. Accessed 19 February 2024.
[9] Michael Fultz, “African American Teachers in the South, 1890-1940: Powerlessness and the Ironies of Expectations and Protest.” History of Education Quarterly 35, no. 4 (Winter 1995): 401-422, 403-404; Fultz, “Teacher Training and African American Education in the South,” 200-201.
[10] Jackson Davis, “Practical Training in Rural Negro Schools,” The Hampton Bulletin 9, no. 6 (1913).
[11] Fultz, “African American Teachers in the South,” 414-416.
[12] Fultz, “African American Teachers in the South,” 409-411; Eric Anderson, Alfred A. Moss, and Alfred A. Moss Jr., Dangerous Donations: Northern Philanthropy and Southern Black Education, 1902-1930 (Columbia: University of Missouri, 1999), 38.
[13] Fultz, “African American Teachers in the South, 417-418; Adam Fairclough, A Class of Their Own: Black Teachers in the Segregated South (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2007), 15-17.
[14] Case File for Alice Lorraine Ashley, et al. v. School Board of Gloucester Co. and J. Walter Kenny, Division Superintendent in National Archives NextGen Catalog. Accessed 20 February 2024.
By Kathryn Allen, B.A. in History, Christopher Newport University (’24), and Sheri Shuck-Hall, PhD, Professor of History, Christopher Newport University
Almost 250 years ago, on November 25, 1775, the first Black regiment in English-speaking North America fought for their freedom. They followed the offer of Lord Dunmore, Royal Governor of Virginia, who proclaimed in 1775 that any enslaved person willing to fight for the British would be freed. Despite being on the opposing side of the Americans, these formerly enslaved men understood the revolutionary principles of liberty and wanted it for themselves. Known as the Ethiopian Regiment, the Black soldiers engaged in several raids and battles on behalf of Lord Dunmore. Yet the culmination of their British military service was in Chesapeake, Virginia, where the Great Bridge Battlefield & Waterways Museum is today. This exhibit explores the history of the Ethiopian Regiment and how their determination led to enslaved resistance throughout the colonial South in pursuit of independence.
“Liberty to Slaves”
Since the first enslaved Africans arrived in 1619 at Point Comfort (present-day Fort Monroe) in Virginia, the institution of slavery continued to spread along with white settlement. Southern landowners focused on cash crops like tobacco that demanded intensive, exploitative labor. By the eve of the American Revolution in 1775, slavery had saturated the South. In the 1750s, Virginia had a population of around 100,000 enslaved Blacks; by the 1780s the number had doubled. Those in bondage eagerly anticipated the day where they would be free because the system of slavery was violent, dehumanizing, and unjust.[1]
The plantation owner sits and smokes while enslaved Blacks harvest tobacco. George Arents Collection, The New York Public Library. “Ford’s Virginia at the Dagger upon Bread-Street-Hill near Queen-Hith, London, 1745.” Courtesy of New York Public Library Digital Collections.
The American Revolution created both chaos and opportunity for the enslaved to escape and gain their freedom. By 1775, war between the colonists and Great Britain was imminent. Major conflicts over taxation, representation, and western expansion led to rebellion, commencing at the Battles of Lexington and Concord on the 19th of April. The ‘shot heard round the world’ resulted in an American victory as they forced British troops back to Boston. In Virginia’s capital at Williamsburg, Royal Governor John Murray, Fourth Earl of Dunmore, plotted to thwart Patriot advances. Two days after the first British defeat, Lord Dunmore ordered the Royal Marines to take the gunpowder from the magazine in Williamsburg. When local enslaved Blacks heard of his plans, they came to Lord Dunmore to offer their services.[2]
Word spread quickly that Lord Dunmore planned to arm Blacks in the British defense of Virginia. Enslaved people from all over the South made their way to the Virginia coastline where Dunmore sought refuge in his ship, the H.M.S. Fowey, in the York River. Lists of runaways littered the Virginia Gazette. Reports of slave insurrections in Norfolk, Chesterfield County, and Prince Edward County fueled Black resistance.[3]
Allan Ramsey, “Portrait of Lord John Murray (1711-1787), 1743.” Oil on canvas in painted oval. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
On the first of May 1775, Dunmore wrote to William Legge, the 2nd Earl of Dartmouth, explaining that he would begin accepting Blacks into his ranks. Yet he only took Blacks from Patriot lines; he refused refugees from the Loyalists. The rising number of Black soldiers struck fear in the colonial South. George Washington, General of the Continental Army who owned a plantation built and operated by enslaved Blacks, admitted that Lord Dunmore was the greatest threat to the American cause. Spring brought war, but it also provided hope to Blacks who had escaped bondage, and the British grew stronger.[4]
After his letter to Dartmouth in May, Dunmore spent the summer recruiting soldiers and raiding the Virginia coastline in Hampton Roads. As the British conducted raids against colonial settlements, more enslaved Blacks sought freedom and joined the British. On November 7, 1775, Lord Dunmore wrote “A Proclamation,” and published it eight days later. He wrote that he had hoped for a resolution to the conflict between the colonists and the British, but seeing no solution, Dunmore proclaimed:
“And I do hereby further declare all indented Servants, Negroes, or others, (appertaining to Rebels,) free that are able and willing to bear Arms, they joining His Majesty’s Troops as soon as may be, for the more speedily reducing this Colony to a proper Sense of their Duty, to His Majesty’s Crown and Dignity.”[5]
John Murray, “Dunmore’s Proclamation, signed November 7, 1775.” Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
This document provided incentive for many enslaved people to escape, but it was at a significant risk. If caught, they would receive severe punishment. Lord Dunmore’s proclamation was so effective in motivating Blacks to cross British lines that many neutral Southerners became Patriots as they feared widespread slave revolts.[6]
While Lord Dunmore’s proclamation targeted able-bodied Black men, even more ran towards his offer. Women, children, and the elderly fled to Dunmore’s ships in search of freedom. Within just a week of Dunmore’s proclamation, around 100 Blacks had fled to Dunmore’s encampment. Those who could not serve as soldiers joined the war effort in other ways; for example, women served as washers and tended to the uniforms of British soldiers.[7]
According to Patriot reports in the Virginia Gazette, soldiers of the Ethiopian Regiment had “Liberty to Slaves” painted across their uniforms. Courtesy of the National Park Service.
Shortly after issuing the proclamation, Lord Dunmore established the Ethiopian Regiment, constituting around 200 to 300 men. Unlike their namesake, these men were mostly American-born or from West Africa. The Black soldiers began their work immediately though they lacked military training. On November 15, the Ethiopian Regiment joined the British troops and other Loyalists at the skirmish of Kemp’s Landing in present-day Kempsville. The Virginia militia’s ambush failed, so the British troops marched on to Norfolk County (present-day Chesapeake) to Fort Murray, a small stockade north of Great Bridge.[8]
“Part of the Province of Virginia. American Revolution and Its Era: Maps and Charts of North America and the West Indies, 1750 to 1789,” The bottom of the map indicates north. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.
The Battle of Great Bridge
Great Bridge was a terrain that had strategic significance. The Elizabeth River guarded on both sides a small strip of land connecting northeast North Carolina to the port of Norfolk. The low-lying Virginia land was a marsh, and the causeway was only large enough to hold five- or six-men side-by-side. It provided the only land route towards Dunmore’s Norfolk holdings and protected his supply lines. Animosity between the Patriots and Loyalists quickly intensified. On December 9, Dunmore took the offensive despite being at a defensive advantage.[9]
A sketch of the 1775 Battle of Great Bridge, Virginia. Lord Rawdon, “A view of the Great Bridge near Norfolk in Virginia where the action happened between a detachment of the 14th Regt: & a body of the rebels.” Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
The combined fear of advancing militiamen and incorrect information from a spy that Patriot forces were only 300-strong prompted Dunmore to move. The Ethiopian Regiment was there to draw the American troops away from the front lines. However, this did not go to plan, and the Patriot militiamen thwarted British forces. The Patriots moved east to take the British on two sides, and Virginia Colonel William Woodford forced British Captain Samuel Leslie, who ordered the attack, into a retreat. Under the cover of darkness, the British withdrew to their ships in Norfolk harbor. The Battle of Great Bridge was the first Patriot victory in the Virginia colony. [10]
Between 62 and 102 British troops were killed, captured, or wounded. According to Dunmore, confirmed British casualties included Captain Charles Fordyce, two other officers, and 17 enlisted men. It is unknown how many died from the Ethiopian or Loyalist Regiments. The Americans only reported one wounded soldier with no casualties on their side. The preemptive attack by the British at Great Bridge cost Dunmore control over Norfolk, Virginia, and the South. Virginians who captured Black soldiers at the battle sold them back into slavery. The loss at Great Bridge forced Dunmore to abandon Norfolk and resigned the regiment to the seas, where they would continue raiding coastal settlements. Yet fear of the Ethiopian Regiment’s power had already permeated throughout the South. The possibility of a slave revolt terrified white plantation owners, while those in bondage kept alive the hope of freedom.[11]
Leaving Virginia Behind
From Great Bridge, the remnants of the Ethiopian Regiment made their way to Lord Dunmore’s ship. Shortly after, the soldiers became extremely ill with smallpox or fever. Dunmore began searching for a place to rest and recuperate, finally settling on Gwynn’s Island at the mouth of the Rappahannock River. For months, the troops remained on the island. Their presence led many more Black refugees to join their cause, but also left them exposed to frequent Patriot attacks. They eventually left the island, where over half of the soldiers were too sick or incapacitated to fight.[12]
Aerial shot of Gwynn’s Island by Bob Tanner, 2001. In “Battle of Gwynn’s Island: Lord Dunmore’s Last Stand in Virginia, Journal of the American Revolution. www.allthingsliberty.com
After leaving the Chesapeake Bay, the Ethiopian Regiment headed to New York. The soldiers officially disbanded on August 13, 1776, on Staten Island. The British appointed those that remained to the Black Pioneers; they were not a combat unit, but a construction crew tasked to build temporary housing. British General Samuel Birch gave each Black soldier of the former Ethiopian Regiment (and any other refugees who joined the British cause) a certificate that listed them as a member of the British forces. Classified as a Loyalist, the document guaranteed their freedom and passage to Nova Scotia. General Birch issued around 3,000 certificates to formerly enslaved people. Only one certificate survives today, bearing the name of Cato Ramsey. Ramsey’s information can be found in the logbook entitled, The Book of Negroes, which was a log of every man, woman, and child who was leaving for Nova Scotia.[13]
“Certificate of Freedom for Cato Ramsey.” Samuel Birch, Book of Negroes, 1783. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
After the British defeat in 1781 at Yorktown and the signing of the Peace of Paris in 1783, the Loyalist evacuation of the former American colonies began. The exodus from New York to Nova Scotia was slow and continued for 3 years. Black Loyalists settled the towns of St. John, Port Roseway, Birchtown, and others. Unfortunately, the land given to Black settlers was not fertile. Many fell victim to famine, forcing them to become indentured servants. Unrest spread among those formerly enslaved as their status in Nova Scotia started to mirror the life that they had escaped. Disgusted with their conditions, many Black people began searching for a way out. Thomas Peters, a former sergeant in the Black Pioneers, transported willing settlers in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick to Freetown in Sierra Leone, Africa. David George, a Black Loyalist who founded the first all-Black Baptist church in America and Canada, published in 1793 a memoir of their long struggle, ending in Africa. His work, along with the story of the Ethiopian Regiment, led to the growing abolitionist movement throughout Europe and the United States.[14]
Cornelis Apostool, “A View of the New Settlement in Sierra Leone, 1790, before the re-settlement of the Nova Scotian Black Loyalists.” Maps, 117.100. Courtesy of the British Library.
A Revolution of Ideas and the Significance of Freedom
The American Revolutionary War sparked the beginning of what is now known as the Age of Revolutions. Taking examples from American ideals and experiences, other countries across the world began to challenge and fight against oppressors. After Americans won their independence, the revolutionary ideas expressed by the Patriots about freedom and equality led many to question slavery and pushed for emancipation. Debates of whether to support, limit, or eradicate the institution of slavery brimmed at the surface of founding political decisions that would forever impact the course of U.S. history. Abolitionist societies continued to flourish in Great Britain and the North, creating a movement that only began the long struggle for freedom in America. While the surviving soldiers of the Ethiopian Regiment escaped bondage, as did thousands of others, slavery was still a supported institution around the world by the close of the American Revolution. The fight for independence was not over yet; it was just beginning for enslaved people.[15]
Josiah Wedgwood (1730-1795), “Official medallion of the British Anti-Slavery Society, 1795.” Wedgwood, a staunch British abolitionist, created this jasper-ware cameo to support the cause. It became the emblem of many Abolitionist societies in the early 19th century. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
Some may ask why Americans would commemorate a regiment of opposing soldiers who fought against American independence from Great Britain. Yet the Black soldiers in the Ethiopian Regiment believed in the principle of liberty and made tremendous sacrifices for themselves and future generations. It is important to commend the bravery of enslaved people who risked their lives in search of freedom. Their story is at the core of our nation’s history.
To learn more about the Ethiopian Regiment and the beginnings of the American Revolution, visit the Great Bridge Battlefield & Waterways Museum in Chesapeake, Virginia. The museum sits next to a recreation of the bridge on which the battle took place. The grounds include monuments, an interpretive historical trail, and a stunning view of the Albemarle and Chesapeake Canal. The Foundation aims to preserve and protect the site where so many died in search of freedom. As an institution, the museum and park provide year-round educational programs to learn about the American Revolution and its diverse history.
We would like to give special thanks to Elizabeth Goodwin, the Executive Director of the Great Bridge Battlefield & Waterways History Foundation, who inspired this exhibit. We are grateful for the invaluable opportunities she has provided for our history students. We would also like to thank Dr. Phillip Hamilton, Professor of History at Christopher Newport University and author of The Revolutionary War: Lives and Letters of Lucy and Henry Knox and Justifying Revolution: Law, Virtue, and Violence in the American War of Independence, and Jon Stull of the Great Bridge Battlefield and Waterways Museum, who kindly offered their expertise and peer-reviewed this exhibit.
About the Author
Kathryn Allen will be graduating with a B.A. in History and a minor in Museum Studies from Christopher Newport University in Spring 2024. She completed this exhibit as a service-learning project for Great Bridge Battlefield & Waterways Museum in partnership with the CNU Public History Center. While at CNU, she interned at Bluebird Gap Farm in Hampton, Virginia, where she traced its early history and archaeology. She also serves as the student assistant of the CNU Department of History. She plans to pursue a career in public history.
Notes
[1] By the American Revolution, around 80 percent of enslaved Blacks in the British colonies were born in America, not Africa. In 1790, the first federal census reported 292,000 enslaved Blacks in Virginia. Herbert S. Klein, Slavery in the Americas: A Comparative Study of Virginia and Cuba (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1967), 177; Peter Kolchin, American Slavery, 1629-1877 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1993), 49, 168.
[2] Simon Schama, Rough Crossings: Britain, the Slaves and the American Revolution (United Kingdom: HarperCollins, 2006), 62-65; Silvia Frey, Water from the Rock: Black Resistance in a Revolutionary Age (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1991), 55; Kate Gruber, “The Gunpowder Incident,” American Battlefield Trust. Accessed 1 February 2024. The Gunpowder Incident | American Battlefield Trust (battlefields.org)
[7] Frey, Water from the Rocks, 63; Holton, Black Americans in the Revolutionary Era, 54-55; Donald Gara, “Loyal Subject of the Crown: The Queen’s Own Loyal Virginia Regiment and Dunmore’s Ethiopian Regiment, 1775-76,” Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research 83, no. 333 (Spring 2005): 32-34; Justin Iverson, “Liberty to Slaves: Lord Dunmore’s Ethiopian Regiment, 1775-1776,” in Rebels in Arms: Black Resistance and the Fight for Freedom in the Anglo-Atlantic (Georgia: University of Georgia Press, 2022), 64, 80.
[8] Iverson, “Liberty to Slaves,” 68; Schama Rough Crossings, 79; John Selby, The Revolution in Virginia, 1775-1783 (Virginia: The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1988), 70.
[13] Gara, “Loyal Subject of the Crown,” 41; Schama, Rough Crossings, 150-152; Alan Edward Brown and Graham Russell Gao Hodges, The Book of Negroes: African Americans in Exile after the American Revolution (New York: Fordham University Press, 2021), 39.
[14] David George recounted his early struggles under slavery. Born in Virginia, George had started his journey early on, by founding the first black Baptist church in Silver Bluff, South Carolina. During the Revolutionary War, he and his family made their way to the British lines to take their claim to freedom. Eventually they ended up in New York, and later, Nova Scotia. While in Canada, he searched for audiences to preach to, but he faced severe backlash from white neighbors. Thus, he decided to immigrate to Sierra Leone, where he lived out the rest of his life. George’s story is just one of many that travelled to Sierra Leone in search of the freedom promised by the British. See David George and John Rippon, ed. “An Account of the Life of Mr. David George, from Sierra Leone in Africa; Given by Himself in a Conversation with Brother Rippon of London, and Brother Pearce of Birmingham.” Baptist Annual Register 1 (1793); Holton, Black Americans in the Revolutionary Era, 112-118; Frey, Water from the Rocks, 172-196.
[15] While the exact number cannot be determined, Thomas Jefferson estimated that up to 100,000 enslaved Blacks escaped during the American Revolution, though many historians believe this number is too high. Iverson, “Liberty to Slaves,” 84.
By Mariah Payne, B.A. in History, Christopher Newport University and Sheri Shuck-Hall, Ph.D., Professor of History, Christopher Newport University
River View Farm is a rare example of the thriving late 19th century Black farming and trade community, Union Ridge and Hydraulic Mills in Albemarle County, Virginia. The farm comprised of roads, fields, a barn and house, a family cemetery, and other small structures. Today the historic farm is located in the Ivy Creek Natural Area, a parkland owned jointly by the City of Charlottesville and Albemarle County that is stewarded by the Ivy Creek Foundation, a non-profit organization dedicated to preserving its rich history. In 2020, River View Farm was added to the National Register of Historic Places for its great historical significance in American history. This is the story of an African American family who survived slavery, purchased land, created a working farm, and forged ahead to ensure economic security for future generations.
River View Farm, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.
The Difficult Road to Independence
Throughout U.S. history, owning land has been a status symbol for wealth and power, as well as independence. Landowners in early America, typically white men, benefitted not only economically, but also politically. For example, those who owned land in the South during the 18th century were the only ones who could vote or hold political office. Forcibly brought to the English colonies in North America beginning in the early 17th century, most Blacks were enslaved and forbidden to own land. Before the American Civil War, enslavers forced African Americans to work on labor camps, called plantations, barring them from reaping the rewards of their own labor. After the Emancipation Proclamation in 1862 that freed all those in bondage, African Americans hoped for land reform that would allow them finally to own land. Yet such freedom to secure land was not guaranteed. Any gains during Reconstruction quickly gave way to ineffective laws and a retreat from the idea of redistributing land in the South to help African Americans obtain an economic foothold. Left with little alternatives, the lack of federal support forced many Southern Blacks back into working the land of former enslavers through sharecropping or debt peonage. Such disadvantageous systems prohibited Black independence and economic prosperity.[1]
Hugh Carr circa 1883, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.
Hugh Carr, born to Thomas and Fannie Carr at the Woodlands Plantation under slavery around 1840, was among the newly emancipated African Americans who searched for better opportunities after the Civil War. Like so many others, he initially became a sharecropper, receiving a small share of the crops, like tobacco, corn, and wheat, in exchange for his labor. Finding it difficult to prosper, he became a farm manager for his former enslaver at the Woodlands Plantation. In 1870, Hugh Carr saved enough money and started to buy property near Ivy Creek. He acquired the land through multiple purchases and by 1890, he owned about 125 acres of land, becoming one of the largest African American landowners in Albemarle County. Hugh Carr worked extremely hard and took advantage of this rare opportunity as many other African Americans still had great difficulty obtaining land. Because he could not read or write, he signed the property deeds with an “X.” By 1880, Hugh Carr built a two-story house where he and his future wife, Texie Mae Hawkins, would live. He finally had the ability to own land and utilize it in any way that he wanted, symbolizing newfound independence.[2]
Hugh Carr’s 1870 Land Purchase, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.
Texie Mae Hawkins (born in 1865) married Hugh Carr in 1883 and had their first child, Mary Louise Carr, in 1884 with six more following soon after. All seven of their children attended nearby schools. Hugh Carr instilled in them the importance of obtaining an education and learning how to read and write, which led many of his children to become teachers and community leaders. Only 34 years old, Texie Mae Hawkins died in 1899, forcing Mary Carr to step into her late mother’s role by taking care of her younger siblings. When she was able, however, Mary Carr began attending Virginia Normal and Industrial Institute (now Virginia State University) in Petersburg. Here, she met her future husband, Conly Greer (born in 1883).[3]
Texie Mae Hawkins circa 1883, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.
Leadership, Education, and Determination
As Hugh Carr aged and all his children moved away, Mary returned home with her husband, Conly Greer, to take care of her father in 1913 and continued to live at River View Farm after his death in 1914. That same year, she began teaching home economics, history, and government at the segregated Albemarle Training School. During this time, Mary and Conly Greer had their only child, Evangeline, born on April 25, 1916. Eventually, Mary Carr Greer became the first female principal at the school, working in the position from 1930 to 1950. Like her father, she encouraged the schoolchildren to continue with their education and see it through to the end. She also encouraged extracurricular activities, assisting students in the 4-H club and in events such as Field Day and the Father-Son Banquet. Through her leadership, Mary Carr Greer became an important pillar within the community.[4]
Mary Louise Carr Greer, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.
Conly Greer also became an influential community leader, serving as the first African American extension agent in Albemarle County. Having received a Bachelor of Science in Agriculture from the Virginia Normal and Industrial Institute, Conly Greer was the perfect candidate. The segregated extension agent program taught crop diversification and the science of food preservation to Black farmers to “develop self-sufficiency and insulation from white commercial society.”[5] Traveling around Albemarle County to visit other farms, Conly Greer demonstrated how to achieve productive farming practices, identify plants and animals, preserve their farm-grown produce, and improve soil for planting. Around 1937 to 1938, Greer built a sanitation barn for milk production on River View Farm using wood from the property. Following more hygienic practices, the barn floor was made of concrete and the cows were separated from all the other animals in order to keep the milk sanitary.[6]
River View Farm Barn, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.Conly Greer with Grandson Hinton on John Deere tractor, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.
Hugh Carr’s ability to buy land after emancipation gave him and his family more opportunities and control over their lives in many ways. For example, a property deed dated in 1917 divided Hugh Carr’s land among his heirs after his death in 1914 and provided space for a family cemetery. Within the cemetery’s surrounding wall are the graves of Charles Whitten (a grandson of Texie Mae and Hugh Carr), Texie Mae Hawkins, Hugh Carr, Marshall Carr (the son of Texie Mae and Hugh Carr), as well as Conly Greer and Mary Carr Greer. Near the cemetery are two unmarked stones, believed to be unknown graves.[7]
It is important to understand that for enslaved people, being with one’s family was essential but especially hard because the institution of slavery led to the destruction and separation of many families. Moreover, when family members died, many of the enslaved did not have a say in where their loved ones were buried. Some enslaved people were buried without headstones and far away from the enslavers’ family burial sites. After the Civil War and through the discriminatory Jim Crow era, graves of the enslaved were hardly maintained and largely forgotten. For the newly emancipated, having a family cemetery on their own land allowed them to respectfully honor the dead. The ability to create special headstones with engravings, as Mary Carr Greer did, and to preserve it was significant, especially as it was not commonplace during slavery.[8]
River View Farm Cemetery, including unknown headstones, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.
Mary and Conly Greer also maintained a garden on the property, which demonstrates the significance of Black land ownership. Enslaved people were forced to work grueling hours picking cotton, tobacco, and other cash crops all for the benefit of their enslavers. For Mary Carr Greer and her father, land ownership allowed them to obtain the fruits of their own labor. African Americans who owned land could now fully rely on themselves rather than other people, deciding what they wanted to grow, how much they wanted to sell, and for what price.[9]
Mary Carr Greer with granddaughter circa 1940s, Theodosia, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.
Conly Greer’s work as an extension agent also symbolized growing autonomy for African Americans. He not only used his barn to house livestock for his own family, but he also taught others how to farm the land they acquired. Farming was a popular profession in Albemarle County. Between 1914 and 1915, 386,491 out of the 480,000 acres that comprised Albemarle County were farms. However, African American farmland had less value compared to white farmland; white farmers’ value reached $426,455 while African American farmers reached only $25,862. Despite the disparity, Conly Greer’s teachings guided and trained local farmers, allowing them to yield more successful harvests and to better maintain their land. These improvements provided more financial independence for Black farmers as well as the opportunity to work and to stay on their own land. However, as an African American extension agent working in a segregated field, Conly Greer was heavily discriminated against as the program received fewer resources than the white equivalents. Not surprisingly, separate was not equal. After Conly Greer’s death in 1956, Mary Carr Greer continued to live at the farm, leasing the land to local farmers. Upon her death in 1973, the Ivy Creek Foundation and The Nature Conservancy worked together to preserve the land and its historic buildings.[10]
Black farmers receiving instruction from extension agent on how to improve their crop production. W.B. Mercier, “Extension Work Among Negros 1920,” Photograph, Washington D.C., U.S. Department of Agriculture, 1921.“Field instruction in the root system and the proper tillage of cotton.”W.B. Mercier, “Extension Work Among Negros 1920,” Photograph, Washington D.C., U.S. Department of Agriculture, 1921.“The Jesup wagon en route to farmers’ conference.” W.B Mercier, “Extension Work Among Negros 1920,” Photograph, Washington D.C., U.S. Department of Agriculture, 1921.
The Struggle Continues
Black farm ownership has dwindled in the past century since peaking in 1920 with nearly a million African American farmers. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, Black-owned farms increased from 13.4% in 1900 to 14.7% in 1920. As decades passed, however, the numbers decreased drastically; African Americans went from a ratio of one in seven farmers in 1920 to one in sixty-seven in 1982. Many reasons, especially practices of discrimination, have led to this reduction. For example, the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) has been exposed for its discriminatory practices. In a 1990 investigation of the USDA, Congress found that it lacked “effective procedures for ensuring civil rights enforcement,” that “contributed to a decline in farms operated by African American farmers.”[11] Specifically, the USDA denied or slowed down loans, credits, and benefits to black farmers (especially those who supported civil rights), while also filing complaints very slowly.[12]
“Black farmers protest at Lafayette Park across from the White House in Washington, D.C. on September 22, 1997. Protesters alleged the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) denied black farmers equal access to farm loans and assistance based on their race. North Carolina farmer Timothy Pigford and 400 other black farmers filed the Pigford v. Glickman (Pigford I) class-action lawsuit against USDA in 1997. The USDA settled Pigford I in 1999.” USDA, Photo by Anson Eaglin.
In response to decades of abuse and inequality, a group of Black farmers fought back by filing a $3.5 billion class action lawsuit against the USDA in 1996 alleging “discriminatory actions such as denial of loans, disaster relief, etc.”[13] This prominent court case against the USDA, Pigford v. Glickman (1999), focused on the prejudicial practices of the 1980s and 1990s, though discrimination had occurred for many decades prior. The case uncovered that the USDA failed to help many Black farmers when they sought financial assistance and loans. To add further damage, in 1983 the USDA disbanded their Office of Civil Rights. With nowhere else to turn in the face of financial hardship and discrimination, many African Americans gave up their farmland for good. In 1999, the case was settled out of court with $1 billion in compensation.[14]
Unfortunately, barriers like these have led to a significant decline of the number of Black farmers and Black-owned farmland in the South. Between 1920 and 1997, Black farmers in the U.S. have declined by 98%.[15] Moreover, Black farmers accounted for only 1.4% of the 3.4 million farmers in the U.S. in a 2017 census of agriculture. During the pandemic, disparity continued. According to a USDA official, the Coronavirus Food Assistance Program in 2020 that offset farmers’ financial losses were issued “disproportionately to white producers compared with those of color.”[16] The American Rescue Plan of 2021 hoped to take steps towards correcting past abuses by providing $5 billion in aid to disadvantaged farmers, specifically people of color.[17]
African Americans were largely excluded from owning land during slavery. Even after emancipation, they faced discrimination and the lack of capital to purchase land. Hugh Carr, however, was able to buy land in 1870, giving him and his family more opportunities than ever seen before. While living at River View Farm, the family could keep or sell whatever they planted and become more financially independent. Both Mary Carr Greer and Conly Greer became influential community leaders, helping other African Americans achieve financial success through farming and education. The Carr-Greer story demonstrates the importance and positive impact of Black land ownership in the community. Today, however, there continues to be many setbacks and challenges for African American farmers. Moving forward, policy changes within the USDA and other institutions will hopefully lead to better opportunities, equality, and social progress.
As part of the Ivy Creek Foundation’s mission of “connecting people to the past and present by honoring the land, history, and community,” it is important to engage the public by talking about these issues in history and how it impacts us today.[18] The Ivy Creek Foundation hosts many virtual and in-person programs that focus on the historical aspects of the land, and actively work with Carr-Greer descendants and the local community to educate the public about a formerly enslaved family who bought this land and made it a home. For more information about Ivy Creek Natural Area and Historic River View Farm’s educational events, visit their website at Ivy Creek Foundation and view the video, River View Farm celebrates historic milestone (nbc29.com).
River View Farmhouse today, Courtesy of Ivy Creek Foundation.
Acknowledgments
We would like to give a very special thanks to Sue Erhardt, the Executive Director of the Ivy Creek Foundation, for sponsoring Mariah Payne’s public history internship and providing her with this amazing opportunity to work at River View Farm and research the Foundation’s archives. We are especially grateful to Susie Farmer, Director of Education, who mentored Mariah and provided her expertise to this project. We also thank the peer-reviewers of this exhibit.
About the Author
Mariah Payne graduated with the honors magna cum laude, Omicron Delta Kappa, and Service Distinction from Christopher Newport University in December 2022. She received a B.A. in History, minoring in Museum Studies and Psychology. She enjoyed her time interning with Susie Farmer at River View Farm, and even learned more about her own family’s history. In a surprising twist, Mariah discovered that Texie Mae Hawkins (wife of Hugh Carr and mother of Mary Carr Greer) was her 3rd great aunt. Currently, Mariah lives in Charlottesville but will be moving to New York City in the fall. She hopes to continue working for non-profits, looking to pursue a career in the museum field.
Notes
[1] Donald Ratcliffe, “The Right to Vote and the Rise of Democracy, 1787—1828,” Journal of the Early Republic 33, no. 2 (2013): 220; Stephen Carpenter, “The USDA Discrimination Cases: Pigford, In Re Black Farmers, Keepseagle, Garcia, and Love,” Drake Journal of Agricultural Law 17, no. 1 (Spring 2012): 3-4; “River View Farm,” National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form (Washington, DC: U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park Service, 2020). For an excellent source on Reconstruction and the struggle for African Americans to gain independence, see: Eric Foner, A Short History of Reconstruction (New York: Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2015).
[2] Samuel T. Bitting, Rural Land Ownership Among the Negroes of Virginia (Library of Congress, 1915), 59; “River View Farm,” National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form.
[3] “River View Farm,” National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form.
[4] “River View Farm,” National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form.
[5] Bruce J. Reynolds, Black Farmers in America, 1865-2000: The Pursuit of Independent Farming and the Role of Cooperatives (USDA, 2002), 8, https://www.rd.usda.gov/files/RR194.pdf.
[6] “River View Farm,” National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form.
[7] “River View Farm,” National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form.
[8] Daniel P. Bigman, “Mapping Social Relationships: Geophysical Survey of a Nineteenth-Century American Slave Cemetery,” Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences 6, (2014). https://doi.org/10.1007/s12520-013-0119-6; “River View Farm,” National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form.
[9] “River View Farm,” National Register of Historic Places Nomination Form.
[10] Stephen Carpenter, “The USDA Discrimination Cases: Pigford, In re Black Farmers, Keepseagle, Garcia, and Love,” Drake Journal of Agricultural Law 17, no. 1 (Spring 2012): 61; Waymon R. Hinson and Edward Robinson, “‘We Didn’t Get Nothing:’ The Plight of Black Farmers.” Journal of African American Studies 12, no. 3 (2008): 292; Ivy Creek Foundation | River View Farm.
[12] U.S. Census Bureau, “Number of Farm Operators in the United States, with Percent Distribution, By Race, 1900 to 1920,” Table 1, Farm Statistics by Race, Nativity, and Sex of Farmer. 293; Vera J Banks, Black Farmers and Their Farms (USDA, 1986), 14, 17. https://permanent.fdlp.gov/gpo36617/AGE86929124.pdf; Bitting, 8; Hinson and Robinson, 293.
[14] Roy W. Copeland, “In the Beginning: Origins of African American Real Property Ownership in the United States.” Journal of Black Studies 44, no. 6 (2013): 656. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24572860.
