History That Doesn't Suck - 38: The (Early) Life and Times of Frederick Douglass

Episode Date: May 13, 2019

“I am your fellow man, but not your slave, Frederick Douglass.” This is the story of self-education, self-emancipation, overcoming adversity, bad and good luck, and the abolitionist cause. Born into slavery in Maryland, Frederick is ripped from his mother, never knows his father, but quickly realizes the power of literacy. Against the odds, the Baltimore-living youth teaches himself to read and write behind his master’s back. But despite his evident natural intelligence, he’s soon sent back to the plantations of Maryland’s Eastern Shore, where Frederick endures the worst of slave life as he’s beaten weekly by “slave-breaker” Edward Covey. This only comes to an end when Frederick daringly stands up for himself, incredibly breaking the slave-breaker. The audacious young man goes to the plantation of the much kinder William Freeland, but is nonetheless determined to have his freedom, damn the consequences. And those consequences can be great. Caught runaways are often sold to even greater miseries farther south. Godspeed, Frederick--we’re rooting for you. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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What did it take to survive an ancient siege? Why was the cult of Dionysus behind so many slave revolts in ancient Rome? What's the tragic history and mythology behind Japan's most haunted ancient forest? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up

for a 7-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. Two advisories on today's episode. One, I'll be quoting first-hand accounts that include slaves speaking a dialect of American English that you'd hear on 19th century plantations. In an effort to be both true to the historical record and respectful to cultural sensitivities, I will read their words as written but will not affect any kind of accent. Two, some quotes include white Americans using a particularly offensive term for African Americans. I'll read the first syllable and will bleep it from there to avoid explicit language, but given the violence accompanying these bleeps at one particular point, listener discretion is advised.

Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. It's an early summer morning and an enslaved Maryland teenager named Frederick is out in the stables feeding horses. At this precise moment, he is, as he'lluring the young man at the top of the ladder, several feet off the ground, reaching into the loft for grass or hay, when suddenly someone seizes his legs and pulls him down, slamming him to the floor. Damn, who does that? It's the teen's wiry, greenish, gray-eyed master, Edward Covey. And as Frederick tries to suck wind amid the pain flowing through his body, Edward gleefully pulls out rope and

starts tying a slipknot around the injured youth's legs. Okay, time out. Here's some background. Frederick's actual master is Thomas Auld, but he's renting Frederick to Edward for the year. We're currently about eight months into this quote-unquote renting of Frederick, putting us in August 1834. Frederick won't recall today's exact date, but he'll always remember it's a Monday. That's because it was Friday afternoon when overworked and likely suffering from heat exhaustion, Frederick fainted while fanning, that is seed cleaning, some wheat. Edward responded by repeatedly kicking Frederick in the side and instructing him to get up. That of course didn't work, so Edward took a slat of hickory wood

and cracked him over the head. Now Edward beats Frederick weakly, but fearing for his life this time, Frederick somehow managed to get up and walk barefoot through flesh-tearing briars to his actual master's home seven miles away and ask for protection. Thomas Auld was mortified when he saw blood-soaked Frederick, but after the shock wore off, he assured Frederick that Edward is a, quote, good man, industrious, and religious, close quote, who would never kill him. Besides, Tom explained, he'd lose the rent money. So if Frederick didn't go back, Tom would beat him instead. So Frederick went back. Well, a slave named Sandy Jenkins hid him on Saturday, but Frederick returned on Sunday when falsely pious Edward acted like everything was fine.

And that brings us back to the horse-feeding, loft-reaching Frederick being thrown to the ground and tied around the legs this undated Monday morning. But as Edward works the ropes around his young, rented slave's legs, Frederick recovers enough from his violent contact with the stable floor to kick free. He then grabs Edward by the throat. Hard. To quote Frederick, I held him, uneasy, causing the blood to run where I touched him with the ends of my fingers.

Close quote. Are you going to resist, you scoundrel? Edward asks, trembling with fear. Yes, sir. Frederick, who knows full well the law is not on his side, coolly responds. Edward answers by screaming for help, and his cousin, William Hughes, appears. Now, to this point, Frederick's tried to play defense. He's still holding Edward's throat to keep him from attacking. But as this becomes two on one, Frederick has to take the offense. When attacking, William tries to tie up his right hand. Frederick makes use of the only free appendages he has, his legs, and kicks the cousin square on the ribs. That's it for William. Bent over in pain, he taps out, leaving Edward to fend

for himself. You mean to persist in your resistance? Fearful and choked, Edward inquires. I do, come what might. You have used me like a brute for six months and I am determined to be used so no longer. Frederick boldly replies. Okay then, all chips in. Frederick's iron grip still on him. Edward pulls the team toward the stable doors and reaches for a stick. Screw that. Frederick grabs at him with both hands, bringing him to the ground in the cow yard. At this point, a hired out slave named Bill happens along. Still locked in a mutual grip with Frederick, Edward calls to him for help. What shall I do, Mr. Covey? Bill asks. Let's note that Frederick tells us Bill, quote, knew precisely what Covey wished him to do. But, to continue quoting, affected ignorance.

Well played, Bill. Well played. Take hold of him! Take hold of him! Edward hollers. Indeed, Mr. Covey, I want to go to work, Bill replies. This is your work. Take hold of him, Edward angrily utters. My master hired me here to work and not to help you whip Frederick, Bill replies. Bill, don't put your hands on me, Frederick chimes in. My God, Frederick, I ain't going to touch ye. And with that, Bill walks off. Bold, huh? Thing is, Edward can't lay a finger on Bill. And to quote Frederick,

Bill knew it. Samuel Harris, to whom Bill belonged, did not allow his slaves to be beaten unless they were guilty of some crime which the law would punish. Close quote. But that's not the case with Edward's slave, Caroline. Unlike Frederick or Bill, Edward actually owns her. Furthermore, she could do some damage. Edward describes her as a powerful woman and could have mastered me very easily, exhausted as I now was. As Caroline goes to milk the cows, Edward ekes

out the same call he did to Bill. Take hold of him! Incredibly, Caroline also refuses, and she'll get whipped for this later. Some two hours have now passed since the struggle began. Edward finally lets go as he exclaims while panting with difficulty. Now, you scoundrel, go to your work. I would not have whipped you half so much as I have had you not resisted. Yeah, sorry, Edward. Frederick's not buying it. Frankly, I don't think any of the rest of us are buying it either. Frederick is only 16 years old. Well, that's his best guess. He doesn't know his birth

date. But at any rate, the law is not on his side. He could suffer severely for standing up for himself. Yet Frederick did. And in his remaining few months here, Edward will never touch him again. In fact, Frederick will never be beaten again. He tells us that after this battle, quote, I felt as I never felt before. It was a glorious resurrection from the tomb of slavery to the heaven of freedom. My long-crushed spirit rose, cowardice departed, bold defiance took its place. I now resolved that, however long I might remain a slave in form, the day had passed forever when I could be a slave in fact. I did not hesitate to let it be known of me that the white man who expected to succeed in whipping must also succeed in killing me. From this time I was never again what might be called fairly whipped,

though I remained a slave four years afterwards. I had several fights, but was never whipped. Close quote. I don't know if the first name gave it away for you or not, but today is the story of the slave who ran to freedom, joined the abolitionist movement, and became one of the most eloquent Americans ever to have lived, Frederick Douglass. Well, at least it's the first part of his story. Today we'll hear about how, despite being born an enslaved child in Maryland, Frederick becomes literate and boldly stands up for himself, just as we saw in this opening. Then we'll follow him on a daring and luck-filled escape to the north, where he joins figures like William Lloyd Garrison in the growing abolitionist fight before the Civil War. And thanks to Frederick's prolific writings, I mean the guy will write three

autobiographies, we'll not only get his story in detail, but his unique perspective as a literate ex-slave on American slavery, society, and Christianity in the mid-19th century. Shall we attempt to keep up with this tireless freedom fighter? Alright, let's go back to early 1820s Maryland and see what life is like for the enslaved young Frederick. Rewind. In a dark corner of a small dirt-floored slave hut, dark-skinned Harriet Bailey strokes the hair of her three-year-old son, Frederick Augustus Washington Bailey.

Harriet, wearing her dirt-caked, coarse linen, field laborer dress, lays by much lighter-skinned Frederick, who has nothing but a loose-fitting tunic for covering and his mother's warmth for a blanket. Once the child drifts to sleep, exhausted Harriet allows herself to claim the rest she so badly needs. Today she worked a full day in the fields of her master's plantation, then walked twelve miles just to catch a glimpse of her boy and to hold him as he sleeps. But now it's nearly dawn, so Harriet forces herself up and silently leaves the cabin and her young, slumbering son.

He doesn't stir as she begins the 12-mile return trip to the fields she works, desperately hoping she'll arrive before the sunrise in order to avoid a whipping. See, Harriet Bailey and her son, Frederick, were separated when he was a baby. We are amid the plantations found between the thick woods and small creeks on Maryland's portion of the Delmarva Peninsula, which is located on the eastern side of the Chesapeake Bay. While Frederick's story unfolds on the plantation where he is born, Harriet has been sent to another farm miles up the road from her son. Frederick remains at Captain Aaron Anthony's plantation, where his elderly grandmother tends

him and other slave children too young to toil under an overseer. Yet. His mother Harriet only receives a pass to visit Frederick every few months, so he grows up with a mere phantom connection to her. As for his father, well, he knows the man is white, probably his master Captain Aaron Anthony, but has no relationship whatsoever. To add to Frederick's weak family bonds, as I said in the opening, he doesn't know his own birth date, and he definitely can't ask his master. Frederick explains, quote, Captain Anthony deemed all such inquiries on the part of a slave improper and impertinent, and evidence of a restless spirit, close quote. Well, based on Frederick's future choices, I'd say that Aaron hit the nail on the head with him, but I'm getting ahead of

myself. I can tell you that plantation records show a baby boy born to Harriet in February 1818. So while young Frederick is denied the knowledge of his actual age, you and I have a rather accurate estimate of it. When Frederick is seven or eight, he is sent to live with Aaron's son-in-law's brother, Hugh Auld. Complicated, right? All you really need to know is that Frederick is not being sold to Hugh. He is on loan. Oh, and Hugh lives in Maryland's Seaport City of Baltimore, not on a country farm surrounded by dense woods. So Frederick's life is about to change quite a bit.

Up to this point, the scrappy, skinny kid has experienced many of the traumas common to slave life. He's been separated from his mother and wasn't even allowed to see her when she died. He's gone hungry too many times to count. He's been so cold that he's used corn sacks for blankets and his feet have deep frostbite scars. He's been beaten and witnessed the cruel whippings of his fellow slaves multiple times. So it's no surprise that Frederick doesn't shed a tear as he leaves Captain Anthony's plantation. He bluntly states, I found no severe trial in my departure. My home was charmless. My mother was dead. My grandmother lived far off, so I seldom saw her. I had two sisters and one brother that lived in the same house with me, but the early

separation of us from our mother had well nigh blotted the fact of our relationship from our memories. So when the small boat carrying Frederick to large, bustling Baltimore departs, the youth doesn't look back. He sails west on the Miles River, crosses the Chesapeake Bay, and reaches Annapolis, Maryland by nightfall. From there, he sails around Cape St. Clair, heads north up the Patapsco River, passes Fort McHenry of War of 1812 and Episode 25 fame, and lands at Smith's Wharf on Sunday morning. His new master lives in a comfortable brick house on Alice Anna Street, a few blocks from the wharf. Frederick is assigned to be the companion and aide of Hugh's young son, Thomas. This means that although Hugh Ald is technically in charge of him, Hugh's wife, Sophia, becomes Frederick's actual taskmaster.

And she is unlike any white woman that Frederick has ever known. She smiles at him. Genuinely smiles. She treats him like a person, with care and kindness. Frederick explains that this behavior is due to her background. Quote, She had never had a slave under her control previous to myself, and prior to her marriage, she had been dependent upon her own industry for a living.

She was by trade a weaver, and by constant application of her business, she had been in a good degree preserved from the blighting and dehumanizing effects of slavery. I was utterly astonished at her goodness. Though just a child, Frederick quickly learns the ropes of his new home, and Sophia soon realizes how bright he is. New to the world of slave owning and unaware of the written and unwritten rules, the kind woman starts to teach her new charge to read. Eager to learn, Frederick gets through the ABCs and the most basic phonetic words like cat, dog, boy, and girl. But when Hugh realizes what's going on, he puts a stop to it immediately.

Hugh knows the stakes of teaching a slave to read. He mansplains to Sophia that teaching a slave to read is not only illegal, but dangerous. The experienced slave owner justifies this line of thinking, saying, Now if you teach that n***a how to read, there would be no keeping him. It would forever unfit him to be a slave. He would at once become unmanageable and of no value to his master. As to himself, it could do him no good but a great deal of harm. It would make him discontent and unhappy. Close quote. I'm pretty sure the overbearing Hugh only means to put Sophia in her place,

but Frederick overhears this one-sided conversation and has an epiphany. The young slave realizes that learning to read is his ticket out of the grip of a master. So even though he has to move forward without the help of Sophia, determined Frederick, quote, sets out with high hope and a fixed purpose at whatever cost of trouble to learn to read. Close quote. The tween has to be incredibly creative, but across the next few years, Frederick sneaks newspapers and books wherever he can. With his rudimentary knowledge of phonics,

he struggles through until his reading skills are quite strong. Any of you listeners who have ever taught a child to read, either as a parent or a teacher, know what an incredible feat this is. A child with only a few beginning skills learning to read on his or her own? That is straight up amazing. But Frederick is not content with cresting this summit. When Frederick is about 12, he really starts to feel the oppressive weight of lifelong slavery on his proverbial shoulders. This motivates him to learn to write. Since Hugh and Sophia's son Thomas now goes to school,

the little boy brings home his handwriting copybooks and just leaves them lying around. Whenever Sophia goes out for the day, Frederick grabs the cast-aside books and spends hours copying and recopying the simple sentences inside. He says, quote, after a long, tedious effort for years, I finally succeeded in learning how to write. Close quote. Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for you. I'm Sean Piles, and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds, personal finance experts in credit cards, banking, investing,

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But in March 1833, through no fault or choice of his own, Frederick is sent back to the plantations in eastern Maryland. See, Frederick's current master, Hugh, gets in a fight with his brother Thomas, who, thanks to a slew of deaths, has inherited ownership of Frederick from his now-dead father-in-law, Captain Aaron Anthony. So to punish Hugh, Thomas makes him hand over Frederick. Enslaved Frederick keenly feels his own powerlessness as he becomes a plaything in a petty dispute. His situation is about to hit a new low as he leaves Hughes Baltimore home

and heads just slightly south and across the Chesapeake to live and work on Thomas Auld's plantation in St. Masters, Maryland. Captain Thomas Auld, and oh does he love to be called captain, even by his slaves, is cruel to the core. Frederick says of him,

The leading trait in his character was meanness, and if there were any other element in his nature, it was made subject to this. He was mean, and like most other mean men, he lacked the ability to conceal his meanness. This holds true even after Thomas finds God at a Methodist camp meeting in August 1833. Frederick hopes that accepting Christ will fill Thomas with enough compassion to at least be kind to his slaves if not free them outright. Instead, he finds the captain is, if anything, worse. To quote Frederick, after his conversion, he found religious sanction and support for his slave-holding cruelty. I get it if you're scratching your head wondering how the teachings of Christ can make a slave owner crueler. See, the thing is that supporters of slavery don't

only believe it's okay, they believe it is the will of God. A few select scriptures help them justify this to themselves, like Ephesians 6.5. Quote, servants, be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh with fear and trembling. Close quote. This is absolutely offensive to Frederick. A steadfast Christian since 13 years or younger, he fervently supports the teachings of Jesus while decrying this pro-slavery take on Christianity. Years from now, he'll write, I love the pure, peaceable, and impartial Christianity of Christ. I therefore hate the corrupt, slave-holding, woman-whipping, cradle-plundering, partial, and hypocritical Christianity of this land. Indeed, I can see no reason but the most deceitful one for calling the religion of this

land Christianity. Woo, Frederick! Well put, but it won't take years for Frederick's faith to get him in trouble. Shortly after the captain's August 1833 conversion, a white resident of St. Michael's named Mr. Wilson asks literate Frederick if he wouldn't mind helping him set up a Sunday school in which they would teach African Americans how to read for the purpose of reading the New Testament. Well, talk about being right up Frederick's alley. Of course he'll do it. Right out of the gate, they have over 20 or so eager to be educated students. But as soon as they get started, they get stopped. Their second meeting is interrupted by a mob led by none other than Frederick's master, Captain Thomas Auld. According to Frederick, Thomas and other slave owners,

quote, came upon us with sticks and other missiles, drove us off and forbade us to meet again. Thus ended our little Sabbath school in the pious town of St. Michael's. Close quote. Oh, I do hope you all caught Frederick's sarcastic jab in that last sentence, but the real point is this. As was the case with Hugh in Baltimore, we see once again how nothing makes slave owners as nervous as education, and particularly literacy, spreading among their slaves. And this is too much for Thomas. It's bad enough that Frederick can read, but now he's teaching other slaves to do so? He figures it's time to break this too-smart-for-his-own-good youth. So starting in January 1834, he rents Frederick to a local man

with a reputation for breaking slaves who dare to have a backbone. This man is Edward Covey. Ah yes, this is the man we met in the introduction today. Edward breaks human beings, all right. He works Frederick to the bone every day other than the Sabbath and beats him around once a week. And Frederick starts to give up on life. Of course, then we get back to that Friday, somewhere in August 1834, when Edward nearly kills him and Frederick walks back to Thomas Ault's home only to find his master won't do a damn thing to protect him. So Frederick realizes he has nothing to lose, and when Edward attacks him that Monday, well, you remember the opening. Frederick fights back and breaks the slave breaker, who never touches the scarred up youth again. By the way, if you're

wondering why Edward didn't turn to the law, which totally would have been on his side, it's likely because he didn't want to be embarrassed. As Frederick put it, quote, Mr. Covey enjoyed the most unbounded reputation for being a first-rate overseer and negro breaker. It was of considerable importance to him. That reputation was at stake. And had he sent me, a boy about 16 years old, to the public whipping post, his reputation would have been lost. So, to save his reputation, he suffered me to go unpunished. Close quote. Thankfully though, Frederick is done with Edward the broken slave breaker at the year's end. In 1835, he's sent to work for William Freeland, who I'll call by his last name because, as you'll see, there's going to be way William Freeland, who I'll call by his last name because, as you'll see,

there's going to be way too many Williams in this episode, and later I'll introduce you to the one who's Frederick's actual friend. Like Edwards, Freeland's farm is located on the Maryland side of the Delmarva Peninsula in Talbot County, near St. Michael's. It runs along the Miles River. But their commonalities end with geographical proximity. In his first autobiography, Frederick describes Freeland as one, quote, possessing some regard for honor, some reverence for justice, and some respect for humanity, close quote. Decades from now, in his later autobiographies, Frederick will add, quote, To the credit of Mr. Freeland,

irreligious though he was, it must be stated that he was the best master I ever had until I became my own master, close quote. So clearly, Freeland's kind where Edward is not. Oh yeah, Freeland's lack of religion is another difference from Edward and one that reinforces Frederick's view that American Christianity, particularly in the South, is a farce. If I may quote Frederick once again, I assert most unhesitatingly that the religion of the South is a mere covering for the most horrid crimes. Were I to be again reduced to the chains of slavery, next to that enslavement, I should regard being the slave of a religious master the greatest calamity that could befall me. Young though he is, Frederick's now 17 years old. He's well regarded by other older slaves. Remember, Frederick is literate.

That's amazing. And once again, he gets a school going, a Sabbath literacy school. Frederick is in his element as he instructs over 30 male slaves, first in the woods, then in the home of a free black man. As he teaches, Frederick is developing the oratory skills for which he'll later become renowned. But as much of an improvement as Freeland's farm is, Frederick reminds us that, quote, The kindness of the slave master only gilded the chain. It detracted nothing from its weight or strength. Close quote. And as 1835 gives way to 1836, going on 18 years, Frederick grows ashamed of having become, or at least appearing to be,

content with enslavement here. So he makes a vow. Before the year ends, he will escape or go down trying. Four fellow enslaved friends join Frederick in the daring endeavor. Charles Roberts, the Harris brothers, Henry and John, and Henry Bailey. The plan is to snag a canoe from neighboring plantation owner, William Hambleton. Ah, our second William. By the way, Frederick will later mistakenly call him Hamilton in his autobiographical work, but cut him some slack. Frederick's writing years later and can't look people up on social media. Anyway, once they have Hamilton's canoe, they'll row up the Chesapeake Bay some 70 miles to its head, then hoof it to a free state. Oh, and as a bit of insurance, literate Frederick is forging a travel pass for himself

and his four friends that claims they have permission to go to Baltimore. Ah, yet another example of why slave owners don't want their slaves to become literate. Now, before I recount to you their actual flight and its outcome, I need to impress on you just how risky this is. If these intrepid five are caught, their owners will likely beat them, yeah, almost a given, then sell them farther south to work cash crop plantations, where they will never see their friends again and possibly live even more miserable and shorter lives. They truly embody American revolutionary Patrick Henry's bold words, as Frederick will later point out in his last

autobiography, quote, give me liberty or give me death. This saying was a sublime one, even for a free man, but incomparably more sublime is the same sentiment when practically asserted by men accustomed to the lash and chain. With us, it was a doubtful liberty at best that we sought, and certain lingering death in the rice swamps and sugar fields if we failed. Close quote. Okay, you get the stakes. Let's follow these courageous five souls. It's Saturday, April 2nd, 1836, the day before Easter. Frederick, Charles, John, and both Henrys are going to run for it today, but they steal their nerves this morning and head to the fields. As they spread manure, Frederick gets a bad feeling, a sinking feeling.

He turns to his good friend, Sandy Jenkins. I'll remind you that Sandy sheltered Frederick for a day in the episode's opening and add that he had planned to run with Frederick and the other four. Because of this, Sandy knows they're running today. Frederick now says to him, Sandy, we are betrayed. Something has just told me so. Ever superstitious, Sandy replies, Man, that is strange, but I feel just as you do.

Only minutes later, a horn sounds the call to breakfast. Frederick goes to the kitchen, but soon he sees four white men riding horses with two black men behind them approaching. Then Mr. Hambleton rapidly rides up as well. The flustered old overweight man asks for Freeland. Informed by Frederick that he's in the barn, Hambleton gallops toward it. The two plantation owners soon come back together and Freeland calls for Frederick, saying some men want to see him. Stepping toward the kitchen door,

the young, liberty-seeking man is met by three of the men who rode up just before Hamilton. Turns out they are constables. They grab Frederick and tie his hands together, telling him not to resist, that he's been accused of being in a fight, and once the matter is settled, he'll be let go. Okay. They now say the same thing to the only other slave in the kitchen, one of Frederick's running accomplices, John Harris, and tie him at the hands as well for the same ostensible reason. But Hamilton now shows their real purpose, saying,

Perhaps we had now better make a search for those protections which we understand Frederick has written for himself and the rest. Oh, crap. There's the truth. Somehow the plantation owners know about the passes, about the plan to run. Frederick and John have their passes on them too. All of them do in fact. Looks like they are indeed going down trying. Or would be, but at this point, Henry Harris arrives at the kitchen. The five armed men, Hamilton, Freeland, and the three constables turn their attention to him, telling him to cross his hands so they can be tied for this whole trumped up fight investigation. Cross your hands, the constable instructs Henry. I won't. He replies with such firmness it arrests everyone's attention. Won't you cross your hands?

Constable Tom Graham asks in shock. No, I won't. Henry again responds with even greater determination. The constables swear by God, cock their pistols and aim them nearly point blank, as Frederick so poignantly puts it, quote, to the breast of the unarmed slave. Close quote. Cross your hands or I'll blow your damned heart out. Each of the angry constables says something to this effect. Shoot me. Shoot me. You can't kill me but once. Shoot. Shoot and be damned. I won't be tied. Henry responds, swinging his arms at the unsuspecting constables, knocking their guns from their hands. Henry now tries to fight off the lawman valiantly. Brave, defiant, heroic. That's how Frederick describes

Henry, even as his friend's resistance makes him feel shame for not having resisted as well. But despite his shame, Frederick makes good use of Henry's struggle. While everyone's distracted, he flings his forged travel pass into the fire. His four friends still have theirs, but at least that's one fewer passes for Hambleton and Freeland to find. And after the scuffle, the constables and masters don't bother to search for now as they tie up the remaining suspects. With all five of the would-be escaping slaves bound at the hands and tied to three horses in order to be force-marched to the county jail in Easton,

Freeland's mother comes rushing from the house with biscuits. She has a love for the Harris brothers, Henry and John. Though enslaved, they grew up in her home. It's typical, Frederick tells us, for southern matriarchs to become, quote, much attached, close quote, in such situations. She gives the two of them biscuits to eat and turns to Frederick, points an angry finger at them and shrieks, you devil, you yellow devil. It was you who put it into the heads of Henry and John to run away. Frederick stares back at the screaming, sobbing woman as she returns to the kitchen and slams the door. And with that, the five apparently doomed men begin their march. As they walk, Henry, who's tied to Frederick, asks softly, what shall I do with my

pass? Ah, that is a problem, but Frederick thinks of a solution. Eat it with your biscuit. It won't do to tear it up, he replies. Brilliant, and thank you, Mrs. Freeland. All of Frederick's companions eat their passes as all five men agree to, quote, own nothing, close quote. In other words, no one's going to confess to their foiled plans. After a few miles, they're at St. Michael's and stop in on Frederick's master, Thomas Auld. Tom tells Frederick they have ample evidence, though he also refuses to name the informant. Sadly, and this also refuses to name the informant. Sadly, and this is hard to acknowledge, the five suspect their sixth runner who dropped out,

Sandy Jenkins. But no matter, all of them stand firm against the accusations, then continue their 15-mile march to Easton as crowds gather on the road, yelling insults and calling for Frederick to be burned or hanged. And the jeers don't end with the march. Locked up behind bars in Easton's stone jailhouse, the five brave souls have new tormentors, slave traders. Ah, boys, we have got you, haven't we? So you were going to make your escape? Where are you going to? Frederick tells us the slave traders mock and ask them such questions, all while groping and shaking their bodies in order to evaluate their monetary value. The five suffer these horrors in silence, certain that they will all be separated and sold to the deep south.

But incredibly, that's not what happens. A week later, Freeland and Hambleton show up. They take Charles, John, and both Henrys back home. The plantation masters are so convinced these four only tried to run because of Frederick's influence, they don't even beat them. What of Frederick though? He sits in jail with only mocking slave traders for company for another week. Then finally, Thomas Auld arrives. Despite threatening to sell Frederick South, he doesn't. I don't know if his veneer of Christianity actually has some substance, or if knowing that Frederick is extended family got to him. But for some reason, he refuses to sell. Tom can't keep Frederick in Talbot County, though.

Hamilton plans to shoot and kill Frederick if he doesn't disappear. So Tom sends the brilliant, rebellious young man back to where he was three years ago, with Hugh Auld in Baltimore. Hugh's fortunes have gone downhill since Frederick was last here, so the master gladly hires him out to make extra coin. The young man is soon employed in the shipyard of William Gardner. His job is to run errands and help, well, everyone. Frederick is, he tells us, quote, at the beck and call of about 75 men, close quote. He gives examples of calls he remembers hearing, often simultaneously, some of which are quite awful. Quote, Fred, come help to camp this timber

here. Fred, bring that roller here. I say, Fred, bear a hand and get up a fire under the steam box as quick as lightning. Hello, ninja. Come turn this grindstone. I say, darky, blast your eyes. Why don't you heat up some pitch? Damn you. If you move, I'll knock your brains out. Close quote. Frederick also hears white workers complain that, quote, the ninj**t would take the country and that they ought to be killed. Close quote. Now, Frederick has his own analysis as to where this working class racism comes from. He tells us that white laborers are angry that slaves can, or rather must, work for far less than white men can. This depresses wages. They could get mad at slaveholders for owning slaves and creating the situation, but, Frederick says, quote,

Slaveholders, with a craftiness peculiar to themselves, by encouraging the enmity of the poor laboring white man against the blacks, succeeded in making the said white man almost as much a slave as the black slave himself. The difference between the white slave and the black slave was this. The latter belonged to one slaveholder, while the former belonged to the slaveholders collectively. Close quote. Damn, that's a heavy thought. But whether Frederick is right or wrong, the fact remains that his unyielding will to stand up for himself, mixed with the racism at the shipyard, result in him

getting completely destroyed in a fight eight months into the job. Here's how this goes down. One day, a worker named Edward North hits Frederick. Now, you know he doesn't get hit without hitting back. That's his thing. So Frederick picks up his assailant and throws him off the dock into the water. Before Frederick knows it, he's fighting four other guys and one is armed with a brick. As he tries to hold them off, he's hit on the head from behind with a hand spike. Frederick drops to the ground and all four men pummel him with their fists. Kill the n***a! Kill the n n****! On-looking workers cry out.

Frederick now digs deep and pulls himself quickly to his hands and knees amid the continuing assault, but before he can do anything else, a heavy booted foot kicks him hard in the left eye. To quote him, which for a time seemed to have burst my eyeball. Close quote. Head split, temporarily half-blinded, blood-soaked Frederick gets up, still intent on fighting, but thankfully his four assailants leave him at this point. Bloodied Frederick makes it home. Hugh and Sophia are livid and horrified at what happened, but there's nothing they can do. By law, blacks cannot testify in court against whites, so Frederick's physical condition and testimony, or the testimony of any other black witnesses for that matter, mean nothing. Some white witnesses might wish they could say something, but they don't dare. There'd be hell to pay back at the shipyard. So that's it. The Alds nurse

Frederick back to health and find him new employment. Once recovered, Frederick goes to work at Walter Price's shipyard. Here the quick learner picks up caulking, that is waterproofing a ship's hull, and becomes quite good at it. After a year or so, he's bringing in about $1.50 a day, making him one of the best paid and sought after caulkers around. Of course, his earnings aren't his. They're Hugh's. Every Saturday night, Frederick surrenders his week's wages. If Frederick earns $6 in a week, Hugh sometimes lets him keep six cents. Yeah, one percent. Of course, Frederick loathes this, and by early 1838, he comes up with another plan to get away, convincing Hugh to let him live on his own. So what's the deal here? Well, since Frederick

proposes paying his own expenses, about $2.50 a week, and continuing to pay up handsomely at $3 a week, Hugh goes for it. This leaves Frederick very little wiggle room, and on leaner weeks he won't save a dime, literally, but at least it cracks the door open to saving the money needed to run. Yet the arrangement only lasts from May until August, when Frederick goes to a camp meeting outside of Baltimore and has such a great time, he doesn't get back to pay Hugh until Monday. The 48-hour late payment gets Hugh's suspicions up and he ends the arrangement. Frederick's pissed. For a week, he refuses to work, which in turn pisses off Hugh. And at this point, Frederick decides that on September 3rd, a mere three

weeks from now, he's running. Frederick's going to roll the dice and boldly take a train to freedom. First, he busts his backside, earning $9 a week. He does this to keep Hugh from suspecting anything, and it works. Hugh is so supremely happy that he quote-unquote gives Frederick 25 cents back the second week. But unbeknownst to this slave master, Frederick's friends are helping him gear up to leave. One of them is a sailor. He provides Frederick with his own certificate stating that he's a free American sailor. Meanwhile, Frederick's fiancee, Anna Murray, and other friends help cobble together the money and sailor's outfit he'll need. Then the dramatic day of September 3rd, 1838 arrives. Dressed in a red

shirt, a loosely tied black cravat, and a tarpaulin hat, Frederick arrives at the train station. He avoids close scrutiny by arranging for his friend Isaac Rolls to bring his baggage late so that he doesn't have time to buy a ticket. Instead, he has an excuse to run up and jump on the train as it's moving. Seated in the segregated black car, Frederick tries to keep his cool as the moody conductor makes his way down the aisle, checking free papers and tickets. When he gets to Frederick, though, his countenance softens. It seems that sailors are so well regarded in seaport towns like Baltimore, even black sailors command some respect. I suppose you have your free papers, the conductor asks. No, sir. I never carry my free papers to sea with me, Frederick replies.

But you have something to show that you are a free man, have you not? The conductor responds. Yes, sir. I have a paper with the American Eagle on it that will carry me around the world. With that bold statement, Frederick pulls out his friend's certificate, likely praying to God the conductor doesn't actually read it and realize it describes a much darker skinned man. The seconds must feel like hours, but thankfully the conductor only gives it a quick glance, takes care of Frederick's ticket, and moves along. This doesn't mean freedom, though. The train finishes its 37-mile journey in Havre de Grace, Maryland. Frederick now crosses the

Susquehanna River by ferry. But now his sailor's appearance becomes a liability. A black ferry worker named Nichols wants to ask him all the kinds of personal questions that someone with a fake identity wants to avoid. Frederick makes his way to the other side of the ferry at his earliest convenience. After the ferry ride, Frederick hops on another train. As it makes a stop, he looks out the window and sees Captain McGowan, whom he knows from Mr. Price's shipyard and the southbound train next to his. But the train gets moving before the captain recognizes him. Frederick also recognizes the man on his own train, a German. He's sure the German recognizes

him too, but whether he did and simply chose not to turn him in, Frederick will never really know. But finally, he disembarks at Wilmington, Delaware. This is a slave state, so Frederick moves with great trepidation toward the Delaware River. Here he boards a steamer, which gets him to Philadelphia. He then finds his way to the Willow Street Depot and catches one last train that night for New York, which, as you might recall from the last episode, is, by this point, a truly free state. September 4th, 1838. Frederick, now in the free state of New York, feels, quote, like one who had escaped a den of hungry lions. Close quote.

He does fear the slave hunters that still might catch him. That's totally a thing. And he's lonely as hell. But within a few days, he meets the free black grocer, newspaper editor, and abolitionist, David Ruggles, who gladly lets him stay with him. Frederick writes to Anna, who, being a free woman, now gives up her life in Maryland to join him in New York, where they marry under Frederick's

new assumed last name, Johnson. Now Frederick needs work, and David suggests that he may be able to use his ship-calking skills up in New Bedford, Massachusetts. The kind abolitionist gives the newlyweds $5 and a letter of introduction as they set off to take a steamer to Newport, Rhode Island. From there, the couple takes a stagecoach to New Bedford. Here they stay in the home of another committed abolitionist, Nathan Johnson. Oh yeah, Johnson, just like Frederick's newly assumed last name. In fact, it's the same as, well, basically half of New Bedford. There seems to be more Johnsons here than there were Caleys with two E's in your high school graduating class. So Frederick, who's not particularly attached to his days-old surname,

asks Nathan for help selecting a new one. Well, Nathan's been reading some Sir Walter Scott of late, specifically his poem The Lady of the Lake, which includes characters from the Douglas Highlander clan, Frederick digs it, but adds an S to make it his own. Having dropped his two middle names long ago, he now answers to the name by which you and I know him, Frederick Douglas. With a new name selected,

Frederick quickly finds work in his now adopted hometown. He exalts, quote, I was now my own master. It was a happy moment, the rapture of which can be understood only by those who have been slaves. Close quote. Although he has shipbuilding skills, he meets stiff racist resistance in the shipyards, so he moves on to other options. He works as a day laborer at any and every odd job he can get. He and Anna begin attending the New Bethesda Zion Methodist Church, again because of the racism they face in white churches. Yes, slavery may be dying in the North, but racism is alive and well. After only a few months in Massachusetts, Frederick gets a preacher's license in addition

to his day jobs. He finally has a place to express his religious beliefs and use them to speak out against slavery, instead of seeing precious-to-him Bible verses used to prop up a dehumanizing, degrading institution. In addition to preaching, Frederick speaks out against slavery and racism, and he subscribes to the abolitionist paper, The Liberator. As the years roll on, he regularly attends abolitionist society meetings and gets a few letters published in the anti-slavery papers. Then his white friend, William Coffin, convinces him to speak at a Massachusetts anti-slavery

society meeting out on Nantucket Island, and Frederick's part-time gig as an abolitionist and reformer starts to gather steam. This August 11, 1841 meeting of the multi-state, 250,000 strong American anti-slavery society is packed with prominent leaders, such as William Lloyd Garrison. Finally, it's the William we heard about earlier in the episode. Anyway, while he listens to self-emancipated Frederick's eloquent and powerful speech, the publisher of The Liberator and founder of the American and Massachusetts anti-slavery societies, William immediately realizes what a powerful force for good Frederick is. Now, William has heard of Frederick. He's even published a

couple of Frederick's anti-slavery letters to the editor in his paper, but the two have never met face to face. After hearing Frederick's speech, William invites the former slave to join the lecture circuit and tell his story, and he readily accepts. Now, William is a serious power player with a decade of experience in the anti-slavery movement. Frederick is really excited to work for the abolition cause full-time. And since William is going to have a huge impact on Frederick's career and American abolitionists in general, let's get to know him a bit. Unlike most abolitionists, William doesn't come from wealth and comfort. He was born north of Boston in 1805

and grew up in poverty. His underemployed sailor father left the family when William was just three years old. A few years later, his older alcoholic brother went to sea, leaving William and his devout Baptist mother to fend for themselves. At 13, his impoverished mom apprenticed William to a local printer, and by 20, he had the skills to run his own newspaper. William then spent his 20s buying and bankrupting three successive newspapers. But by then, the passionate, politically extreme, and staunchly religious man was entrenched in the anti-slavery movement. So he gave the newspaper business one more go, and on January 1st, 1831, he printed the first edition of his abolitionist paper, The Liberator. Finally, success! The Liberator gave William enough of a voice to create his own abolitionist society. He had been a member

of the American Colonization Society, but he became disillusioned with their message. As he saw it, the society just wanted to send free blacks back to Africa so they could hang on to racist views and achieve a homogenous society. In 1833, newly successful William founded the American Anti-Slavery Society and then a couple of years later created the Massachusetts branch of that organization. So William has picked himself up by the bootstraps and is now leading the cause to liberate people who have no bootstraps of their own. In 1841, William and his approximately 250,000 followers, called Garrisonians, mistrust the federal government and refuse to participate in the standard two-party system. Garrisonians

don't vote and view the Constitution as a pro-slavery document. They would never compromise with people, like Southern congressmen, who condone slavery. To prove it, the motto of William's newspaper, The Liberator, is, quote, no union with slaveholders, close quote. Damn. Unyielding William is a fierce champion for this cause, and Frederick is too. So the two passionate, powerful men join forces. Just like the Amistad captives in the last episode, Frederick joins the abolitionist lecture circuit. William and the other society leaders don't always agree with Frederick's approach. See, as liberatedated Frederick puts it, he doesn't want to just, quote, narrate wrongs. I feel like denouncing them, close quote. The top dogs at the American

Anti-Slavery Society really want him to stick to their prescribed script while they take on the task of explaining the political theory of the group. But Frederick just can't do that, even though his ideas don't exactly fit in with Williams' we-refuse-to-compromise-with-the-government, semi-anarchist rhetoric. The former slave is much more liberal than that. And no, that doesn't mean he has a Bernie 2016 bumper sticker on the back of his Subaru. Here in the 1840s, it means that Frederick believes in the preeminence of individual rights, the importance of religious diversity, and the need for limited government. These ideals, especially that last one, chafe against the

anti-government and anti-party system mores of William. Nonetheless, the men find enough common ground in their Christian values and moral commitment to end slavery to work together. After four years of touring on the lecture circuit together, Frederick puts together his first autobiography and William publishes it. The narrative of the life of Frederick Douglass hits the shelves in May 1845. The book is a huge success and a few months after it comes out, the escaped slave turned published author goes on a book tour to England, Scotland, and Ireland lecturing on American slavery and the current fight against it. This trip turns out to be a good thing for more than one reason.

It doesn't just boost sales. While Frederick's in England, Thomas Auld, the man who technically still owns him, sells Frederick to his brother Hugh for a hundred bucks. Nice, Thomas. Yeah, you haven't seen Frederick in years. Don't even know where he is, but you'll still try to make a quick buck off of him. Abolitionist friends in England come to Frederick's aid and crowdfund enough money to buy his freedom. They pay Hugh 150 pounds, over 700 US dollars, making Frederick Douglass a legally free man. When Frederick gets back to the States, he realizes that his political ideas and abolitionist methods are now completely incompatible with Williams. So he officially breaks from the anti-government American anti-slavery society and starts his own abolitionist paper, The North Star.

The first issue comes out in December 1847 and gives Frederick carte blanche to fully express his own views. Whether in his editorials and articles or in public speeches, lowercase l, liberal-minded Frederick, remains true to his two basic tenets, a belief that every person is the, quote, original, rightful, and absolute owner of his own body, close quote, and a belief that all people have the obligation and responsibility to stand up for the rights of others. To the first tenet, Frederick expresses his self-ownership belief in an unapologetic,

open letter to his old master, Thomas Auld, that he publishes on the 10th anniversary of his escape from slavery, September 3rd, 1848. Nothing shows courage like publicly calling out your still-living former owner, right? Bold Frederick makes a rock solid argument justifying the righteousness of his choice to run away. He writes, the morality of the act I dispose as follows. I am myself. You are yourself. We are two distinct persons, equal persons. What you are, I am. You are a man and so am I. God created both and made us separate beings. I am not by nature bound to you or you to me. In leaving you, I took nothing but what belongs to me and in no way lessened your means for obtaining an honest living. Your faculties remain yours and mine became useful to their rightful owner. I therefore see no wrong in any part of the

transaction. Frederick then signs the letter, quote, I am your fellow man, but not your slave, Frederick Douglass, close quote. And that's how it's done. He upholds his own freedom seeking flight and argues for the freedom of every enslaved person in one fell swoop. And what about that second tenet, that every person has the obligation to stand up for the rights of others? Frederick calls the free, non-slave-owning people of the North to action. It's not enough to not own slaves, he argues again and again. You also have to fight against slavery. And the passionate Christian to the core man pulls no punches in his appeals to end slavery. In a lengthy, fiery 4th of July, 1852 speech given to a crowd of abolitionists

at Rochester, New York, Frederick asks and answers a pointed question, and I quote, What to the American slave is your 4th of July? I answer, a day that reveals to him more than all other days in the year the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham, your boasted liberty an unholy license, your national greatness swelling vanity, your sound of rejoicing are empty and heartless, your denunciation of tyrants brass-fronted impudence. Your shout of liberty and equality, hollow mockery. Your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade and solemnity, are to him mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy. A thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation on earth

guilty of practices more shocking and bloody than are the people of the United States at this very hour. Close quote. Okay, so that's super uncomfortable. And if you want to feel even more uncomfortable, go read the whole speech because Frederick was just getting warmed up. But we can't really refute the freedom fighter. He is conveying facts, and as John Adams said when defending the Redcoats as their lawyer after the 1770 Boston Massacre, quote, facts are stubborn things, and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence. Close quote. Nonetheless, Frederick is not negative and spiteful. The Christian man only wants America to fully live up to its potential, to the beautiful ideas enshrined in its Declaration of Independence. So he ends his no-holds-bar,

impassioned speech by saying, which must inevitably work the downfall of slavery. The arm of the Lord is not shortened, and the doom of slavery is certain. I, therefore, leave off with hope, drawing encouragement from the Declaration of Independence, the great principles it contains, and the genius of American institutions. Close quote. See what I mean? Frederick sees America's potential. This speech, along with Frederick's other lectures, editorial writings, and his autobiography,

make the brilliant, literate, self-emancipated Christian the preeminent abolitionist of the era. And Frederick doesn't just use his powerful, persuasive arguments for the abolitionist cause. There are plenty of other pressing social issues coming to the forefront, and his Christian values compel him to become a major advocate for a few of them, including improving public education, temperance, and most prominently, women's rights. Yeah, you can be sure this isn't the last we'll hear from this dedicated energetic social reformer. But right now, anti-slavery crusaders and the whole nation have to face down the looming presidential election of 1848, which is causing the two main political parties to splinter

as they bicker over the issue of slavery within the nation's newly acquired territories, complements of the 1846-1848 Mexican-American War. Some candidates try to avoid the question, but slavery refuses to be ignored as the gold rush balloons the American population in California. Their bid for statehood might just shatter the increasingly fragile United States. Musical score composed and performed by Greg Jackson and Diana Averill. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit historythatdoesntsuck.com. Join me in two weeks where I'd like to tell you a story. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans.

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