William Still’s Discovery
1850
When the door to William Still’s office on North Fifth Street opened on August 1, 1850, it revealed a tall, middle-aged man named Peter Friedman. He had traveled hundreds of miles from Alabama to find his family and had been directed by local churches to the office of the Pennsylvania Anti-slavery Society. He was hoping they might be able to help him. But even in his wildest imaginings, he couldn’t have been prepared for what he learned that day.
Twenty-nine-year-old William Still wasn’t yet known as the “Father of the Underground Railroad,” but during his lifetime the energetic young black man would work his way up from being clerk, field organizer, and secretary to chairman of the Acting Committee of the Pennsylvania Anti-slavery Society. Currently, as secretary, his job was to personally interview fugitives who had made their way to Philadelphia, determine what assistance they needed, and keep a record of all expenditures. His records would later help fugitive slaves locate long-separated family members.
William listened attentively and took notes as Peter Friedman, nearly twenty years his senior, unfolded the saga of his life. As a free black man, it was hard for William Still to imagine undergoing such trials and tribulations as being sold like a piece of property and being beaten unmercifully. He seemed to have little in common with the man on the other side of his desk—or so he thought.
Peter, now fifty years old, had been separated from his mother for more than forty years. His early memories were admittedly dim when trying to recall exactly where they had lived or what his mother and sisters had looked like. Too much time had passed. The two men studied each other with regret. With so little to go on, it was doubtful there would be a happy ending to Peter’s search.
Peter recounted the main events in his life. He had lived the better part of it in Kentucky and Alabama, a slave under various masters. He was the second eldest of four children, and while his father had been able to buy his own freedom, Peter, his mother, and his siblings had remained slaves. He remembered one failed escape attempt when he was six years old, and vaguely recalled a kidnapping after which he and his brother never saw their mother and sisters again. Peter had suffered a terrible loss later in life when his brother died at the hands of a cruel master at age thirty-three.
It wasn’t until Peter Friedman was an adult that he had been able to buy his freedom. Now he was seeking assistance for purchasing his wife and children, whom he had left behind in Alabama. Regrettably, Peter did not know his real last name; Friedman was the name of his last owner. He also could not say exactly where he had been born.
William Still mentally noted how his own life contrasted so sharply with that of the man sitting across from him. For one thing, William had been born in New Jersey and was raised free. He was the youngest of eighteen children. His deceased father, Levin, had purchased his own freedom when he was a young adult, but his mother, Charity, had been a runaway. She had escaped slavery with their two daughters, who were William’s oldest sisters, forty-four years ago. Her two sons, William’s oldest brothers he’d never met before, had been left behind in slavery. Charity had been reunited with William’s father and had changed her name for safety’s sake.
William Still needed more information, and asked Peter to recall any details that might provide some clues. Peter remembered that he had been five years old when his father had gone north. A year later, his mother had taken all four of her children with her on her first escape attempt. Peter was then six years old, his brother Levin was eight, and their sisters were younger. Their arduous journey to freedom was short-lived. It was somewhere along the Delaware River, perhaps near Philadelphia, that slave catchers had come in the middle of the night and abducted them all, dragging them back to their owner.
Peter’s mother was locked up for three months to ensure that she would not run away again, but that did not deter her. A few weeks after her release, Peter and Levin had awoken to find their mother and sisters gone. Out of spite, their enraged owner, Saunders Griffin, sold the confused and distraught boys to Kentucky so that their mother would never find them. Before they were taken away, the boys’ grandmother told them never to forget the names of their parents, Levin and Sidney, and to remember that they were up north of the Delaware River.
William Still put down his pen and furrowed his brow as he listened further. Peter told about how he and his brother had been sold and resold, working in brickyards, tobacco factories, and cotton fields, sometimes enduring whippings at the hands of overseers and masters. As Peter talked about searching for his wife, Vina, and his children—Levin, Peter, and Catharine—a terrible sadness came over him. William had seen that same look on the face of his own mother, who often prayed for the two sons she had left behind.
It seemed that William Still did have some things in common with Peter Friedman after all. Peter kept mentioning the name Levin, which had been the name of William’s father as well. Peter’s mother’s name was Sidney—Sidney had been William’s mother’s name before she changed it to Charity. Peter had been told to head for the Delaware River near Philadelphia if he was ever freed; William’s mother lived near the Delaware River, on the east side in New Jersey.
William thought of his own mother as he stared hard at Peter. The brow line was nearly identical, and the eyes had a familiar shape. The bridge of the nose was also the same, except that Peter’s nose was somewhat broader. The lips were dissimilar, but both had high cheekbones, a trait inherited from ancestral intermarriage with the Lenape Indians.
William Still sat lost in thought. All he’d been told growing up was that his two older “lost brothers” had been sold to an unknown location. His mother had never stopped praying for . . . Levin and Peter.
William was dumbfounded when he heard Peter say the names of his two younger sisters—Mahalah and Kitturah. Mahalah and Kitturah were the very names of William’s older sisters who had escaped with their mother long ago.
William Still had been born twenty years after Peter. Nevertheless, how had he not seen the striking resemblance to his, to their, mother when Peter first walked into his office? It was so obvious now. William later recalled, “My feelings were unutterable. I could see in the face of my newfound brother, the likeness of my mother.”
Very slowly William said, “Suppose I should tell you that I am your brother?” Peter sat there speechless, trying to absorb what he had just heard. The very man sitting across the desk helping him find his family just claimed to be a brother he never even knew existed. Having known nothing but hardship and heartache all his life, Peter was amazed he could have encountered such a stroke of good fortune and was overcome with emotion.
Peter “Still,” as he was informed his last name was (their father had changed his last name from “Steel” to “Still”), had never been forgotten by his family after all. Their parents had gone on to have fourteen more children. Their father had died eight years earlier, but their mother was still alive. Their sisters, Mahalah and Kitturah, lived in Philadelphia. Three more of Peter’s new siblings lived nearby: Mary ran a school for black children in the city, and James (a doctor) and Samuel (a farmer) both lived in New Jersey. Peter’s family had grown exponentially. His mother had eighteen children; eight of whom were still living. All of them were eager to see the older brother about whom they had heard so much.
Peter’s reunion with his mother was an answered prayer. Her aged hands trembled as she reached up to hold his still-familiar face. Peter felt his mother’s frail embrace, and neither of them could contain their sobs.
The missing pieces of Peter’s life came together at what seemed like lightning speed. Peter discovered he had lived in Maryland as a child. On that first escape attempt, his family had made it to New Jersey before being dragged back. His mother had then made the heartrending decision to escape with his sisters and had never forewarned her sons, in order to protect them. Unable to take all her children with her, she had kissed her sons good-bye as they slept and put them in God’s hands. Peter’s grandmother had been wise in admonishing Peter to remember that his mother was near the Delaware River. His family was indeed nearby in Burlington, New Jersey.
With the discovery of his mother and siblings, Peter’s broken heart was half-filled with joy. The other half ached for his wife and children, who remained in bondage.
Only one week after the reunion, Peter Still returned to the McKiernon plantation in Tuscumbia, Alabama, where his family lived, carrying $100 that he had raised. His mission now was to try to bring his own wife and children north to meet the rest of his family.