Never Caught Read online

  For a young woman such as Judge, the dangers of the unfamiliar—Eliza’s temper and Law’s sexual profile—served as an urgent incentive to run away. Living in Philadelphia exposed Judge to the benefits not only of owning one’s own labor, but of also being able to select a mate, to have the relationship sanctioned by law, and to bear children who did not belong to a white master. The Washingtons’ granddaughter was now married and on her way to motherhood. A legal marriage would be a near impossibility for Judge if she was given to Mrs. Law.

  Martha Washington’s decision to turn Judge over to Eliza was a reminder to Judge and to everyone enslaved at the Executive Mansion that they had absolutely no control over their lives, no matter how loyally they served. Slaves all over the young nation always dreamed and wished for emancipation, but Judge didn’t need to imagine anything. In Philadelphia she could see freedom, feel freedom, and experience freedom in the smallest of ways. Judge’s time spent in the North along with her pending return down South and a belief that she might never return, forced her to think deeply about her future.

  Eight

  * * *

  The Fugitive

  Ona Judge’s runaway advertisement in Claypoole’s American Daily Advertiser, May 25, 1796.

  During the spring months of 1796, Ona Judge’s mind was filled with dreams, nightmares, plans, and challenges. Focusing on her normal tasks would have been difficult but still a requirement. As she brushed Martha Washington’s hair before bedtime, she was careful not to tug too hard on the aging first lady’s scalp. Women in their midsixties lamented hair loss, so Judge was gentle with each stroke of the brush. But her mind wandered. Judge’s concerns about returning to Virginia and becoming the property of Eliza Law were all consuming, and at the very least, distracting. As the household slaves and servants began to prepare for the trip back to Mount Vernon, Judge continued to be deferential and obedient on the outside while on the inside she grew more anxious. Each night, as Judge removed the stains from Mrs. Washington’s dresses and scraped the mud and dirt off the first lady’s shoes, she contemplated the forbidden and thought seriously about reaching out for help. Yet she was frightened, and the mere mention of the words “fugitive” or “runaway” disrupted the rhythm of Judge’s heartbeat.

  She remembered when the Washingtons first arrived in Philadelphia, and heard talk about a growing “fugitive slave problem.” Although New York and New Jersey dragged their feet in statewide abolition, slaves in the Mid-Atlantic and the Upper South knew that freedom could be found in the towns and cities of the North, as nearly all states north of Pennsylvania had already passed some kind of gradual abolition law. Numerous hurdles stood in the way of the brave enslaved men and women who dared to leave the small farms or shops of their masters. Judge undoubtedly saw these fugitives in the streets of the new capital, and although these men and women tried desperately to hide their pasts, a Southern accent, or recognition by a former owner’s acquaintance, could easily betray them.

  Judge had heard the stories of just how difficult it was to run away from an owner. One of the first obstacles for fugitive slaves to confront was the issue of Northern climates. The weather in cities such as Philadelphia up to the small towns of New England fluctuated constantly, and brutal Northeastern winters prompted slaves to consider spring or summer escapes. Two to three months out of every year, the Delaware River froze over, eliminating the sea as an escape route. The small rivers and creeks across the North were also impassable, often sending brave and desperate fugitives to premature, icy deaths. Roads, impassable from heavy snow and frozen mud, disabled even the strongest and most agile fugitives, trapping men and women on the run. Many lost their lives to hypothermia as they hid in the caves, barns, and alleyways of the North, with little to no food, or a proper winter coat or shoes.

  Empty stomachs steered fugitives to search for food, but the winter months drove vegetables and fruits into hibernation. Fishing and hunting proved extremely difficult in heavy snow and ice, prompting men and women on the run to steal small animals from nearby farms. This always proved a desperate act and could end a fugitive’s race to freedom, as farmers would notice a missing calf or chicken.

  Ona Judge was contemplating escape in the spring or early summer season, which also had its challenges. Relentless heat and humidity could send a fugitive to an early grave, as heatstroke prompted vomiting and serious confusion. Dehydration transformed already tired bodies with sunken eyes into unmovable masses, as the healthiest of fugitives could only last three to five days without access to water. Spring and summer rains transformed dirt roads into muddy swamps, simultaneously claiming lives via mudslides. Of course, high illiteracy rates made it almost impossible for most fugitives to read poorly marked signs or directions. Even if given a map, Ona Judge would not have been able to read it.

  Years before the safe houses of the Underground Railroad saved the lives of men and women on the run, most fugitives had few options for shelter and protection. The forests and wilderness protected escaped slaves from the eyes of local citizens, and thick brush and dense forest beds provided secrecy, as did abandoned cabins and stone hollows.

  Beyond the weather and difficult conditions, Judge likely contemplated just how few women made successful attempts at escape. Unlike Judge, the majority of fugitives—90 percent—from Pennsylvania down to Virginia, were male. The same held true for South Carolina and parts of the Upper South. There were many reasons for the extremely low number of female escapees, but historians have focused on the relationships between mothers and children as the main deterrent for female slaves.

  Throughout the rural South, enslaved children were much more likely to live with their mothers than with their fathers. “Abroad marriages,” relationships between enslaved men and women who lived on different properties, often placed miles between husbands and wives. The inability to form legal marriages and the indiscriminate sale of human property often tore children from their fathers, sometimes separating young slaves from their fathers forever.

  Most fugitives were between the ages of sixteen and thirty-five years old, the exact age span when enslaved women tended to be pregnant, nursing, or caring for a child. Enslaved mothers worried about all those who were left behind, fearing that retribution from a scorned owner would show itself on the backs of their children. This fear, of course, tethered slave mothers to the homes and estates of their owners. Successful escapes with children in tow were extremely difficult as long-distance travel with infants and toddlers reduced the chances of success. Children’s cries of hunger and fatigue were easily detectable in dark forests and cold caves. Unable to walk or move quickly, small children slowed the tempo of the run to freedom. It was hard enough for a healthy adult to escape his owner, but for women with children, the task was near impossible. Childless, Judge would not have to confront the horror of leaving one’s children behind for the opportunity of freedom. Of course, if she made the decision to escape, she would cut ties from her family back at Mount Vernon, a terrible choice to consider, but one that was altogether different from leaving behind a baby.

  Runaway slave advertisements appeared frequently in Ben Franklin’s Pennsylvania Gazette, and not surprisingly, most of them sought the return of male slaves. The number of runaway ads increased over the colonial period, and by the time Ona Judge arrived in Philadelphia, an average of twenty-six advertisements appeared in the Gazette every year. Slave women who appeared in the ads were runaways from Philadelphia proper and the surrounding counties. In September of 1790, a runaway ad appeared in the Gazette for a slave woman named Kate. Taking advantage of the tail end of the summer, Kate ran away from her master on the night of August 23. The twenty-one-year-old fugitive left her Chester County home and supposedly “went off with a black man, named Charles.” A four-dollar reward was offered for the “Mulatto Girl” who took with her an “old black bonnet, a long gown striped red, blue and white, two short ditto striped blue, red and white, [and] a large white shawl.” A month late
r an advertisement for a thirty-five-year-old slave woman named Nancy appeared in the Gazette. An eight-dollar reward was posted for the fugitive woman who was described as “of a black cast, but not the very blackest” who was “country born, and understands farmers kitchen work very well.” The newspaper ads served as a reminder to both enslaved and free black Philadelphians that freedom was elusive. Although emancipation had come to many blacks in the city, it was still beyond the grasp of the enslaved in the surrounding counties. Even though Ona Judge was unable to read the newspaper ads on her own—the president’s slaves were almost all kept illiterate—an oral tradition quickly moved this kind of information through black communities and to eager listeners.

  Successful escapes offered hope to those who remained in bondage, and failed attempts reminded them of the serious consequences that came with failure. Slaves were often whipped or beaten for running away, sometimes in the presence of kinfolk and other slaves on the small farm or large estate from which they ran.

  Washington remained vigilant about any and all escape attempts from Mount Vernon, even while he was living in Philadelphia. Although the president reportedly avoided the tearing apart of slave families, he was not averse to punishing or selling difficult slaves when he deemed appropriate. During the early 1790s, Washington sold at least two difficult slaves to the Caribbean after their maddening defiance could not be controlled. Washington threatened a slave named Ben that he would no longer tolerate disobedience and that:

  if a stop is not put to his rogueries, and other villanies by fair means and shortly; that I will ship him off (as I did Waggoner Jack) for the West Indies [sic], where he will have no opportunity of playing such pranks as he is at present engaged in.

  In 1791, the enslaved Waggoner Jack was sold for a quantity of wine.

  Aside from knowing that her master was not beyond selling a slave for serious infractions of the rules, Judge also understood that the slaves at Mount Vernon were subjected to physical violence. In January of 1793, Washington condoned the whipping of Judge’s sister-in-law, Charlotte. Mount Vernon estate manager Anthony Whiting wrote to the president about a disobedient seamstress and recounted Charlotte’s constant insubordination. Whiting wrote that he “gave . . . a very good Whipping” and his plans for continued physical violence were made clear when he stated that he was “determined to lower her Spirit or skin her Back.” Washington responded to Whiting, stating, “And if she, or any other—of the Servants, will not do their duty by fair means—or are impertinent, correction (as the only alternative) must be administered.”

  The month following Charlotte’s brutal whipping, and with Haitian slave insurrection on the minds of many, Washington set out to ease some of the concerns of Southern slaveholders. A little more than two years into his residency in Philadelphia, the president signed into law the Fugitive Slave Act, creating a legal mechanism for the capturing and reclaiming of fugitive slaves. According to this act (signed in February 1793), a slave owner or his agent could legally seize a runaway and force the apprehended slave to appear in front of a judge or magistrate in the locality where he or she was captured. After written or oral “proof of ownership” was presented by the slaveholder, a judge could order the return of the alleged fugitive. The controversial law also stated,

  That any person who shall knowingly and willingly obstruct or hinder such claimant, his agent, or attorney, in so seizing or arresting such fugitive from labor, or shall rescue such fugitive from such claimant, his agent or attorney, when so arrested pursuant to the authority herein given and declared; or shall harbor or conceal such person after notice that he or she was a fugitive from labor, as aforesaid, shall, for either of the said offences, forfeit and pay the sum of five hundred dollars. Which penalty may be recovered by and for the benefit of such claimant, by action of debt, in any Court proper to try the same, saving moreover to the person claiming such labor or service his right of action for or on account of the said injuries, or either of them.

  To be clear, those who purposely interfered with the recapturing of a slave, or who offered aid or assistance to a fugitive, could be fined an exorbitant amount—$500—imprisoned, and be sued by the slaveholder in question. Southerners rejoiced over the new law, considering it a legal triumph to pursue their human property across state lines. However, for Northern states that no longer enforced or practiced human bondage, the law was a reminder of the growing divide over the issue of slavery. Northern states had no choice but to accept federal intervention regarding fugitive slaves, but it is important to note that Congress did not pass the Fugitive Slave Act with a unanimous voice.

  Arguing that the Fugitive Slave Law of 1793 was unconstitutional, Northern states believed that the law erased the states’ rights to legislate the contested issues surrounding fugitive slaves. Shortly after the act was passed, many of the Northern states passed “personal liberty” laws requiring trial by jury for blacks accused of being fugitive slaves. Several Northern states also used personal liberty laws to make certain that the “recapture” of a fugitive slave could be viewed as a kidnapping offense if not done through appropriate measures. Southern states, on the other hand, argued that the Fugitive Slave Law protected their property rights and that the law was imperative to carry out the Constitution’s provisions regarding fugitives from labor.

  Just as the slaves on High Street knew about gradual emancipation in Pennsylvania, they most certainly learned about the new federal law that made escape even more improbable. Without question, then, Ona Judge knew that the consequences of running away would be steep, so her escape had to be successful. If she ran away and was captured her life would change instantly, as angry owners might punish her in the worst way imaginable: by placing her on the auction block and selling her to the highest bidder. The Washingtons might do what they had done before: they might “put her in their pocket.”

  She had examined the facts—the mercurial Eliza, the biases against blacks, the treatment of blacks in the aftermath of the yellow fever epidemic, the danger of the Fugitive Slave Law—and Judge realized that if she ran away, she couldn’t plan her escape alone. So she took the biggest of gambles and confided in a group of crucial associates: free black allies.

  We do not know how Ona Judge made contact with the group of free blacks who would offer to help with an escape. Perhaps while escorting Martha Washington to one of her many social calls, she took the opportunity to ask for assistance. As her mistress enjoyed afternoon tea, Judge could have reached out to a free black servant, one who might know how to help her, or at least, could discreetly point her in the direction of someone else who could. Every black Philadelphian knew that there was one man who could and did help runaways, the well-known preacher Richard Allen.

  As one of the most influential leaders of the early republic, Reverend Richard Allen is often given credit for building the free black community of Philadelphia. By the 1790s, Allen simultaneously served as a spiritual leader to a growing black community and was also an entrepreneur, owning and operating a chimney sweep business. His trade was dangerous, but one of the few entrepreneurial opportunities open to black men. In a short time, Allen was able to hire apprentices to help grow his business and soon climbed up the economic ladder.

  Perhaps the most important person on Allen’s client list was the president himself, and we know that Allen collected money from the Executive Mansion for his services in March of 1796. Perhaps, after talking with a trusted friend, Judge reached out to Allen during his visit to the President’s House. Her words and interactions with the preacher would have gone undetectable by the house staff, and in a whisper, she would have asked Allen for help. Quick words would have passed between the two, perhaps with a plan to meet somewhere else to discuss her chances for finding freedom. Allen would have been a natural person to consult about the best way to flee the city and remain undetected.

  Although Judge never publicly admitted to receiving help from Allen, their paths may have crossed a second time du
ring the spring of 1796. The well-known minister included on his impressive résumé the skills of a cobbler, and was eventually listed on the Philadelphia tax rolls as operating a shoe shop in his home on Spruce Street. On May 10, the Washingtons gave Judge $1.25 to purchase new shoes, money that she could have taken directly to the shoe shop in Allen’s home. There, Judge would have had more time and privacy to discuss the possibilities of escape with the famed black leader, who was himself an ex-slave.

  She never revealed the identity of her friends who helped her to think about the possibilities of escape, as aiding a fugitive slave was considered a federal crime up until the Civil War.

  Judge knew what the future held should she not heed the advice of her free black associates. “She supposed if she went back to Virginia, she should never have a chance to escape.” Once she learned that “upon the decease of her master and mistress, she would become the property of a grand-daughter of theirs by the name of Custis,” she knew that she had to flee. She imagined that her work for the Laws would begin immediately, not after the death of her owners, prompting a fierce clarity about her future and her dislike for Eliza Custis. “She was determined never to be her slave.” Her decision was made. She would risk everything to avoid the clutches of the new Mrs. Law.

  Judge was well-informed, and knew that her decision to flee was far more than risky. But still, she was willing to face dog-sniffing kidnappers and bounty hunters for the rest of her life. Yes, her fear was consuming but so, too, was her anger. Judge could no longer stomach her enslavement, and it was the change in her ownership that pulled the trigger on Judge’s fury. She had given everything to the Washingtons. For twelve years she had served her mistress faithfully, and now she was to be discarded like the scraps of material that she cut from Martha Washington’s dresses. Any false illusions she had clung to had evaporated, and Judge knew that no matter how obedient or loyal she may have appeared to her owners, she would never be considered fully human. Her fidelity meant nothing to the Washingtons; she was their property, to be sold, mortgaged, or traded with whomever they wished.