Tag Archives: UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

DAY 15 — Mary Ellen Pleasant

Mary Ellen Pleasant - Investor in Good Trouble

All of the money in California might not have been enough to buy freedom for black Americans still enslaved and oppressed in the mid-to-late 1800s.

But free woman Mary Ellen Pleasant sure had enough to try.

Through an early life enshrouded in mystery and speculation, by the 1840s, a twenty-something Mary Ellen was coming into her own and creating her story, both literally and figuratively. Mary Ellen and her first husband James, both born from mixed-raced parents, could easily pass for white, but rather than benefit selfishly, they put themselves at risk freeing the enslaved. With the fortune James inherited from his white father, he and his “white” wife financed all manner of slave escapes – purchasing their deeds only to release them later, funding their travels along the Underground Railroad, and even providing shelter in the couple’s own home, a monstrous Virginia plantation with no staff because they’d all been set free.

When James died only 4 years after they were married, Mary Ellen embraced her newfound freedom, living her life in a way that only a single woman with light skin, lots of money, and a little backbone could. She and James had been rebellious, but Mary Ellen became an unrepentant renegade who preferred to dress in disguise and concoct elaborate back stories that allowed her to “steal” slaves right off the plantation. Her brilliant surprise attacks were the stuff of legend, but after 4 years of these ruses, she was infamous among southern plantation owners and had to make an escape of her own.

Slowly moving west in the direction of growing cities and eventually remarrying along the way, Mary Ellen was soon forced to pick up the pace by the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850. Although she’d never technically been a slave (Massachusetts was a free state when she lived there as an indentured child servant instead), she also didn’t have the necessary papers to prove her freedom should anyone question her skin color and lineage. In a stroke of extraordinary luck, the free state of California was in the infancy of a Gold Rush and she had an eye on growing her fortunes. So with all of her money and her moxie, Mary Ellen landed in San Francisco, where she only became an even more formidable woman.

Gliding effortlessly between both white and black communities, Mary Ellen amassed millions. When she arrived in San Francisco, surveillance was her top priority. A brilliantly clever and well-educated woman, she relied on her domestic skills and society’s traditional gender roles to blend into the background of the upper-crust homes and restaurants she worked, knowing that no man would pay much attention to a servant woman, white or black, while discussing important financial business.

A photo of the home Mary Ellen shared with her business partner and also rented out for secondary income, reveals a sprawling property overlooking early San Francisco.

Her eavesdropping paid off extravagantly, granting her insider information on precious metals, natural resources and the stock market. Though she had to combine her investments with that of a white partner, since women – especially those masquerading as white – still didn’t have full property or financial rights, Mary Ellen’s savvy made them both rich to the tune of $30 million ($327 million today).

But Mary Ellen wasn’t the only transplant growing wealthy from California’s bounty. Southern slaveowners were migrating too, and though California was a free state, that didn’t apply to those who came as slaves. Her riches were propelling her rapid rise in San Francisco society, but Mary Ellen couldn’t overlook those who didn’t have the luxury of freedom she enjoyed.

Instead, she used her money and power to take her abolition efforts to the next level: California law. When black citizens were discriminated against on San Francisco’s trolleys, she sued on their behalf, winning multiple cases against the city and the state over the course of the 1860s. Forbidden from testifying in California courts, black defendants often found themselves robbed of any chance of a fair trial, an injustice that Mary Ellen saw to in 1863, successfully repealing the law. Those who needed the means to escape could rely on her to front the money, transportation, food and any other necessities. She was so beloved among the black citizens of California that they soon called her home “The Black City Hall.”

When Mary Ellen’s white partner suffered an untimely death, all of that began to change. His wife ran a full-page smear campaign on Mary Ellen in the San Francisco Chronicle that destroyed what was left of her fast-crumbling reputation. After the Civil War and free from any fear of retribution (or so she thought), Mary Ellen stunned all of San Francisco when she submitted her census documents with an extravagant checkmark through the box labeled “black.” Racist rumors circulated about voodoo and black magic being the source of her wealth and social graces, and soon, unable to defend against the crushing public opinion or to distinguish her finances from her partner’s, she was left destitute and living with friends, where she died in 1904 at the age of 90.

As civil rights were won though, the details of Mary Ellen’s philanthropic and strategic impacts on black communities nationwide finally began to be revealed. All of her efforts in aiding the black people of California came to light, but on her deathbed, Mary Ellen still had one more secret to share with the world. When abolitionist John Brown – famous for the 1859 rebellion in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia where he and a small group of enslaved men stormed a confederate arsenal – was captured & hanged, a coded letter was found crumpled in his front pocket. “The ax is laid at the foot of the tree. When the first blow is struck, there will be more money to help,” it read. It was she who’d written that note, Mary Ellen revealed, and the “more money” she’d promised was in addition to the already $30,000 invested in Brown’s cause, just shy of $90K by today’s standards.

Her life of covert deeds now public knowledge and the record of her reputation set straight, the woman who once presided over “Black City Hall” and defiantly told those who tried to deter her she’d “rather be a corpse than a coward” is now known to all as “The Mother of California Civil Rights” and the “Harriet Tubman of the California Underground.”

Mary Ellen Pleasant’s contributions to California civil rights were memorialized in this Pacific Heights plaque reading:
”Mary Ellen Pleasant Memorial Park 1814 – 1904
Mother of Civil Rights in California
She supported the Western Terminus of the Underground Railway for fugitive slaves 1850-1865. This legendary pioneer once lived on this site and planted these six trees.
Placed by the San Francisco African American Historical and Cultural Society.”

KEEP GOING BLACK IN HISTORY:

The New York Times briefly chronicled Mary Ellen’s dramatic and eventful life in their “Overlooked” series.

Read more about Mary Ellen’s powerful sway in San Francisco and the wild scandals that led to her downfall in the Paris Review.

DAY 11 — Seneca Village

Seneca Village - Central Park’s Stolen Foundation

There’s a dark secret buried beneath the greenery of Central Park.

In the mid-1850s, New York was was just beginning to blossom into the global city it’s now become. Brimming with tourists, businessmen and immigrants from around the world, the city needed a grand outdoor space to rival those of London, Paris and other European metropolises, according to New York’s officials and prominent residents too.

Where they didn’t have space to build, city planners took what they needed from the nearby “shanty wasteland” inhabited by “insects, squatters, and bloodsuckers,” as the local papers characterized the small enclave of Seneca Village and its people.

But those descriptions couldn’t have been further from the truth. No one was more invested in the well-being and upkeep of their small corner of the Big Apple than Seneca Village’s own citizens – it had stood as New York’s first community of free black people for 30 years.

Despite the fact that the state of New York didn’t officially free slaves until 1827 and the United States didn’t follow until 1863, the free black men and women of Seneca Village established their middle-class settlement by purchasing adjacent plots of property in 1825. But so much more than pride bound them so fiercely to their estates. In those days, black men were only eligible to vote if they owned at least $250 of land. Of the nearly 14,000 black people documented in New York at the time, only 91 had voting rights and of those, 10 lived in Seneca Village. For their small town, preservation was power.

Albro and Mary Beth Lyons were two prominent abolitionists who were also known citizens of Seneca Village.

But unbeknownst to all of them, just two weeks before the church’s cornerstone was set, city officials had ordered the entire village, from 81st to 89th Streets between 7th and 8th Avenues (near what’s now Central Park West), condemned to make space for their vanity.

With 3 churches, 3 schools, 2 cemeteries and dozens of free-standing homes up to three stories tall, Seneca Village was a thriving community with nearly 600 total residents during the 3 decades it existed. And they had plans for greater longevity. When the cornerstone for their First African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church was laid in 1853, a time capsule was placed inside to preserve the significance for future residents. As a suspected Underground Railroad stop due to the presence of so many abolitionists and the constant influx of new residents, it had become a place of hope for all who passed through and a realized vision of what free black people could be.

An article from the New York Herald documents the coffins unearthed in 1871, noting that they had not been there just 5 years before when trees were planted in the park. Unlikely, as excavations later established it as the location of one of Seneca Village’s cemeteries. (Also note the coffin’s description.)

4 years later in 1857, it was all gone. Despite protests from the citizens and lawsuits that they brought against the city for failing to pay what the property was worth, if they paid anything at all, the then 300 or so men, women and children of Seneca Village didn’t stand a chance against New York’s elite.

It wasn’t just black history that was destroyed either. By the time it was razed, Seneca Village was a shining example of an integrated community, with as many as 30% of its residents having been Irish or German, all attending the same schools, churches and local gatherings.

Seneca Village was only one of many black communities, cemeteries and landmarks lost to the rise of New York, and the city has begun to address this shameful history through places like the African Burial Ground National Monument and historical markers. But some mistakes can never be undone. As signified on the plaque where Seneca Village once stood, after their property and voting rights were lost, Seneca Village was never rebuilt, and while remains have been unearthed there sporadically since 1871, not a single living descendant of the community’s black citizens has ever been found. to make something brand new.

Where Seneca Village would have stood today

KEEP GOING BLACK IN HISTORY:

Explore the study & excavation of this historic community at Columbia University’s Seneca Village Project.