Never Caught Read online

  For decades, New Yorkers grappled with the issue of black emancipation. The Revolutionary War found men in the coffee shops of Philadelphia, Boston, and New York discussing the topics of freedom and citizenship, prompting some New Yorkers to rethink their commitment to slavery. But the drive to maintain human bondage was a slow-burning fire that stayed lit well into the nineteenth century. So, Washington’s decision to bring seven slaves from Mount Vernon to his new home on Cherry Street in 1789 was not considered unseemly or unusual. As was the case for many other elite whites, Washington’s use of slave labor was acceptable. Governor George Clinton owned eight slaves, and New York resident Aaron Burr owned five of his own. Yet these men were also involved in the New York Manumission Society, as were John Jay and Alexander Hamilton. Although the society engaged in conversation about gradually ending slavery, most of New York’s leaders remained uncommitted to this goal. Slave ownership was still a sign of upper-class status, so slavery in New York lived on.

  Politicians and learned men were not the only ones who raised concerns about the system of human bondage. By the 1770s, religious groups were pushing for, or at the very least discussing, the ending of slavery. The Quakers in Philadelphia jumped to the front of the movement to abolish slavery by disowning all members of the Society of Friends who engaged in the traffic of human souls. Their early ban on slavery not only affected the Quakers in Philadelphia but also slowly spread across the North. Other religious groups such as the Methodists also began to rethink their affiliation with the institution of slavery, and Anglicans, who had appeared more committed to un-free labor, started to educate and baptize black New Yorkers. Yet New York was not quite as progressive as Philadelphia. When Judge and her enslaved companions stopped briefly in the City of Brotherly Love on their sojourn to New York, they inevitably recognized that slavery was on the wane. This realization would have stirred hope and optimism in the heart and mind of a Southern slave. But a strange reversal followed Judge once she left Philadelphia and traveled north. As she entered New York, she found herself surrounded by slaves again, albeit mixed with a significant number of free blacks.

  As the city continued to grow in size, so too did its population of enslaved men and women. But New York would never claim as large a black population as Washington’s home state of Virginia. As a black woman, Judge was now in the minority, a stark difference from her world back home at Mount Vernon. Ten percent of New York’s population consisted of black people, and of them about two-thirds were enslaved. Judge would interact with these men and women, noticing that the wealthiest white men and women owned a large percentage of the city’s slaves, though poorer whites were not absent from the slave trade game, as was the case with a small grocer named Hastings Stockhouse. The grocer lived on Cherry Street but owned no real property and struggled to make a living. Although relegated to the lower end of the socioeconomic ladder, Stockhouse owned a slave.

  It would have only taken a short time for Judge to figure out that the majority of whites who owned slaves didn’t own a great number of them. Unlike an estate such as Mount Vernon, which counted its bondmen and bondwomen in the hundreds, most slaveholders in New York City held one or two slaves. The majority of those who claimed human property were artisans, such as Stockhouse, living above their small stores and rented shops, placing their human property in the attics and cellars of their already cramped homes. New York slave owners simply couldn’t own more than a couple of slaves, for there was nowhere to lodge them, unlike the slave quarters and cabins at Mount Vernon, which allowed slaves to sleep, eat, laugh, and love each other outside the walls of a master’s house.

  What may have been even more surprising to Judge as she settled into residency in New York was that the majority of the blacks with whom she became acquainted were women. Although artisans and other slaveholders who invested in slave labor preferred male slaves, black women (both slave and free) were a significant presence in the city. Northern slavery was different from what the young Virginian knew. In cities of the North and Mid-Atlantic, slavery was an institution that depended upon black women not for their ability to reproduce but for their agility with the most arduous kinds of domestic work. Meal preparation, cleaning, and sewing were extremely taxing in the eighteenth century, and without the luxuries of running water or electricity, much of the work required lifting heavy buckets of water and cooking in unbearably hot kitchens or freezing sheds. For most black women who toiled as domestic slaves or servants, their bodies were broken, and their time was never their own.

  Because of her owner’s revered status, however, Judge was most likely spared from the most physically taxing labor in the home, as she had to be on call to assist Mrs. Washington and to accompany her on her many social visits. While she wouldn’t be asked to assist with cooking or heavy cleaning, in many ways, her work would be much more demanding and extremely unpredictable.

  It was Judge’s job to serve the first lady without being seen. When Mrs. Washington entertained her close friends, Judge was always within earshot. Sunny days prompted Mrs. Washington to call for her carriage, where she could chat with friends and enjoy the fresh air. Passersby always recognized the first lady and took note of her entourage.

  Preceded by a Servant about 1/2 mile ahead, and two young Gentlemen on Horseback, Just before them, a Mulatto girl behind the carriage and a Negro man Servant on Horseback behind.

  Judge, the “Mulatto girl,” was always careful not to intrude on her mistress and her guests. She perfected the responsibilities of a domestic slave; she was always available but never present.

  But only one month after Judge’s arrival in New York, the frantic pace of life on Cherry Street came to a hard stop. The president was in danger—he was gravely ill.

  Over the course of his eight-year war experience, Washington’s health had deteriorated. Difficult and sometimes unsanitary conditions at war, as well as his advancing age, had taken their toll on the president’s body. Having survived the war, no one expected the president to battle for his life after he contracted a fever in June of 1789. His febrile body worsened, and a large tumor developed on his left leg. As the tumor grew, Washington became debilitated by pain, was unable to sit, and the situation grew worse by the hour. Well-respected physician Samuel Bard diagnosed the president’s condition as a cutaneous form of anthrax and feared the worst. Washington knew that he might not survive, which must have been nothing short of devastating to Mrs. Washington. Having already buried one husband and all of her children, Martha Washington was most likely consumed with fear.

  Though they wanted to keep his condition private, the physician’s extended stay at the President’s House must have proven curious to the Washingtons’ close friends and family. When servants and/or slaves were asked to cordon off Cherry Street, even the public began to wonder what was happening. Straw was placed on the street outside the president’s home to dampen the noise of foot traffic, and all who resided within the walls of the president’s home understood the seriousness of the situation. By June 17 Dr. Bard had no choice but to operate on the president’s leg. All surgery in the late eighteenth century was horribly painful, as analgesics and anesthesia were yet to be invented. The surgery was quite serious, and Dr. Bard was forced to remove the tumor, which Tobias Lear later described as “very large and the incision on opening it deep.” Washington survived the ordeal but was left debilitated and unable to sit or walk for weeks, forcing the president to attend to his duties from his bed or sofa.

  Martha Washington continued to worry about her husband’s health even after he regained his strength by early September. Judge’s task was not only to care for Lady Washington, as she had been doing, but also now to help calm her nerves and soothe her soul. Still distraught about leaving Mount Vernon, Martha Washington was forced to deal with the mortality of her husband and to imagine what life would be like without her partner. For three months, Martha Washington’s mood remained apprehensive. Even after the president appeared to be on the r
oad to full recovery, the first lady remained leery about her husband’s health, worried that his responsibilities would take him to an early grave.

  Finally, with the president relatively healthy—his dental condition never left him pain-free—in February of 1790 the first family relocated to a much larger home on Broadway. The new home was a spacious four-storied building that allowed for the president and his wife to entertain with much more grandeur. Views of the Hudson River, fine carpets, and beautiful furniture appeared more appropriate for the Washingtons and allotted all who resided in the president’s house a bit more space.

  Once his leg was completely healed, the president’s obligations increased, forcing him to travel from state to state, often with little rest. And yet again, the president was betrayed by his own body. The first lady’s apprehension about her husband’s fragile health seemed a premonition. A few months after the Washingtons settled into their new home on Broadway, the president developed another fever, which refused to disappear.

  This time the president couldn’t hide his infirmity, and friends and colleagues began to talk openly about their concerns. Pennsylvania congressman George Clymer wrote, “But it is observed here with a great deal of anxiety that his general health seems to be declining.” Influenza spread through the city, striking without regard to status or position, and the president was no exception. By late April of 1790, Washington came down with the virus that served as a gateway for pneumonia. The contagion that ripped through the city and president’s body would claim many lives and robbed Washington of much of his hearing. When Dr. Bard along with other well-known physicians were summoned to his bedside, Judge once again witnessed the mood of the president’s house turn from great optimism to despair. The president coughed up blood, and his fever worsened, leading the president’s doctors, aides, and his wife to fear the worst. But their deep concerns would soon dissipate because, once again, Washington beat the odds. In a little more than a month, the president appeared to be out of harm’s way.

  When the summer arrived, the Washingtons and their slaves packed up once again. This time Judge prepared to return home to Mount Vernon for an extended visit, one in which everyone could take a step back from the frantic pace of Northern life. Judge returned to Virginia a changed woman. She had been thrust into the spotlight of serving the most powerful family in the nation during a year that had been particularly strange and perilous. As she watched her owners take their place at the top of the political ladder, she subtly monitored the beginnings of Northern black freedom. Though only sixteen years old, Ona Judge was no longer a child; she was an experienced housemaid whose eyes had seen plenty.

  Four

  * * *

  The Move to Philadelphia

  “Residence of Washington in High Street, Philadelphia.”

  In the summer of 1790, after a year and a half in New York, the Washingtons traveled back to Mount Vernon for a nearly three-month visit. The contents in the house at 39-41 Broadway had to be packed and prepared for transport to two locations. While some of the family’s personal items would follow along back to Mount Vernon, the rest of Washington’s property would be sent on to Philadelphia, the new site for the nation’s capital. Very little information exists to document this sojourn back to Mount Vernon, but Ona Judge must have looked forward to the familiarity of home and to meeting a new family member. Judge’s sister, Betty Davis, had given birth to little Nancy sometime in 1790. Meeting her niece and visiting her family and friends at Mount Vernon would be bittersweet, as it rekindled her most intimate relationships while reminding Judge of a childhood lost and an entrenched system of plantation slavery. Now in her late teenage years, she had become one of the Washingtons’ most-valued house slaves and had witnessed things her family members could only dream of. Neither her siblings nor her mother had traveled to the North; only Judge’s brother Austin could claim the same kind of worldliness that she knew.

  When the carriage returned Judge to the curved driveway at the Mount Vernon estate, the bondwoman would alter her frame of reference. Her eyes would miss the spotting of free black men and women in the marketplace, and her ears longed for discreet conversations about black freedom. On her return trip to Virginia, Judge would confront the fixed reality of her life as a slave. While her lifestyle and duties may have appeared desirable, even glamorous, to the enslaved at Mount Vernon, Judge knew that black Northerners could enjoy much more than she could. Laying eyes upon little Nancy would remind Judge of the deepest dilemmas of slavery; slave births were moments of celebration and mourning. She would welcome this new baby girl into the family, knowing all too well the kinds of danger, degradation, and violence that lay in wait for her. But Judge was Nancy’s aunt, not her mother, and whatever dreams she had of raising her own family were packed away. There was no place in the Executive Mansion for an infant slave. Motherhood would have to wait for Ona Judge.

  Martha Washington, who had been so reluctant to join her husband in New York, now found herself saddened that as a result of a political compromise, brokered by Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson, the capital was moving to Philadelphia. She had grown accustomed to her new status and her expanding circle of friends, and now she had to start over again in a different city. While a holiday back at Mount Vernon most likely tempered her anxieties about the impending move to Philadelphia, the first lady was burdened with another relocation to plan. Plagued with thoughts of a long and grueling road trip to Virginia, the Washington household made its way through the streets of New York in a farewell procession. The Federal Gazette reported that “Mrs. Washington, also, seemed hurt at the idea of bidding adieu,”—which they did on August 30.

  New Yorkers bid farewell to their president and to their claim on the nation’s capital. Following the American Revolution, the location of the seat of government was a point of great debate, with thirty or more cities competing for the right to house the new center of power. New Yorkers and Philadelphians argued that the site of the nation’s capital should be along the Eastern Seaboard, with its quick and easy access for business transactions. Philadelphians were shocked when the Congress abandoned the Pennsylvania State House (later called Independence Hall) and took up residence in New York. In 1788 New York became the official meeting place for the first Congress under the Constitution.

  Yet behind closed doors, some members of Congress were holding quiet conversations and private dinners, where they developed plans to create a “Federal City” that was separate and apart from any other city or state government. Southerners like James Madison led the charge in what would become a decadelong drama around the location of the new seat of power. Virginians, in particular George Washington, were insistent that the permanent location of the nation’s capital reside within a Southern orbit.

  The Federal City would be splendid, and the hands of slaves would build it. The new federal government rented hundreds of slaves to clear the land, making way for paved streets and thoroughfares. These same slaves would bake the bricks and saw the lumber needed to erect buildings on what had been a desolate swamp. Black men and women’s unpaid labor would lay the foundation for what would become the seat of America’s power.

  It was Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson who brokered the famed compromise between Southern and Northern coalitions in which the federal government assumed all state debt related to the American Revolution in exchange for landing a permanent nation’s capital along the Potomac River. The construction of the capital would take close to a decade, and Philadelphia’s consolation prize was the temporary relocation of the capital for a period of ten years starting in 1790. Philadelphians hoped that the decadelong window of opportunity would allow Pennsylvanians to persuade members of the Congress to rethink their decision. Some congressmen were still uncertain about the construction of a capital on the swampy, mosquito-infested shores of the Potomac, and Philadelphians believed that the modernity and cosmopolitan nature of their city could change minds. A grandiose President’s House
was constructed for the Washington family in Philadelphia, but the president avoided any connection to the opulent structure. As a Virginian, the president was committed to the Potomac location and chose to maintain a residency in the Morris House on High Street.

  George and Martha Washington spent the summer months readying themselves for the transition to Philadelphia. The couple had learned quite a bit about Northern urban living from their New York experience and took great care to plan for an appropriate staff for the Philadelphia residence. Questions about the propriety of slavery notwithstanding, the president and Mrs. Washington had no plans of leaving behind their slaves, and in fact, chose to bring additional slaves with them this time. Concerned about a shortage of white laborers in Philadelphia and displeased with some of the Northern practices of white servants, the Washingtons thought long and hard about who should accompany them in November. The president, ever concerned about appearances, would no longer tolerate white servants who appeared unkempt. He revealed to his secretary Tobias Lear that he would not rehire his previous chefs, noting, “The dirty figures of Mrs. Lewis and her daughter will not be a pleasant sight in view (as the Kitchen always will be) of principal entertaining rooms in our new habitation.” Instead, he chose to bring his slave Hercules, known for his fine cooking skills. Clearly, the Washingtons were more concerned with the image of cleanliness and refinement than they were about the growing debate over slavery in Philadelphia.

  The culinary master ran his kitchen with authority. When Hercules’s commands were made known, “his underlings flew in all directions,” trying desperately to please the extremely demanding chef. Hercules must have been respected not only by the slaves at Mount Vernon, but also by his masters. He knew what kinds of foods his master liked and could eat with or without his dental prosthetics. Moreover, George and Martha Washington were confident that he would prepare impressive and splendid meals for heads of state and foreign dignitaries.