AFTER THE LONG, DEMORALIZING period of over three years following the redemption of Catharine, Arabella, and the two youngest Weems boys, John Jr. and Sylvester, events were now suddenly colliding. Lewis Tappan and Jacob Bigelow were by now exchanging a flurry of letters about Adam and Joseph Weems, who they had learned were being held in Alabama by the slave trader John C. Cook. Arabella, Augustus, Sylvester, and John Jr. may also at one time have been a part of Cook’s stock before Arabella and the two youngest boys were freed and Augustus was sold to another master.1 Tappan had misjudged Bigelow’s determination to free the boys and became acutely aware that they had perhaps acted prematurely in spending money from the Weems ransom fund to free Diana. The fund had now been significantly depleted. The abolitionists could only hope that at least one boy if not both could be freed – either by purchase or by “self emancipation.”2 To further complicate things, Sarah Tappan wrote a story about the Weems family and Ann Maria’s audacious escape that was going to be published in the Frederick Douglass Paper the very same week.3 Should Cook, who certainly had no love for Underground Railroad agents, be informed of the details of the transatlantic interest in the Weemses’ case and of the fund, he might greatly inflate the boys’ price, just as had happened with the other family members.
Learning of the possibility of redeeming her sons, Arabella was not willing to accept half-measures. She pleaded for further assistance in a letter to Tappan. Tappan was uncertain what to do; he had received countless similar requests and he admitted that “I have never been drawn sympathetically toward her.”4 Like some of his British comrades, when it came to the institution of slavery Tappan usually tried to focus on forests rather than trees. He wrote to a friend who knew Arabella and asked confidentially if she was “deserving of such repeated aid?” Even this most charitable of hearts in the abolitionist movement, who had given so much to the cause, still had a lot to learn. However, no matter what his inner conflict may have been, Tappan would never betray the mission entrusted to him by his British friends.
John C. Cook maintained his principal residence in the District of Columbia and another one in the town of Eufaula in Barbour County, Alabama. He had been enticed to Alabama by the cheap and productive land that had become available in the state in 1837, when the secretary of war ordered that all of the Creek tribes be removed from the state after a series of lengthy skirmishes and wars. In addition to several large parcels of land in the townships, Cook purchased forty acres for the unbelievably inexpensive price of $79.75.5 About nine miles outside of Eufaula, Cook also had a large plantation of 1,040 acres. Enough of the oak, hickory, dogwood, and short-leaf pine had been cleared from the heavily timbered land to provide full-time work for thirty slaves. The land was “new” and ideal for the cultivation of cotton and corn. It was a beautiful setting, with the Chewalla Creek winding its way through the property. There was a solid house, two logs thick, suitable for a planter or an overseer, as well as ten new log cabins for the slaves, with a well nearby, plus fourteen stables for the horses and mules, a new barn, a pea house, and a corn crib. The cotton gin was housed in its own log building.
Eufaula was situated on a high bluff overlooking the Chattahoochee River, which separates Alabama from Georgia. An early resident eloquently described the town:
Oh, the beauty of the bluff scenery. The yellow jasmine and woodbine climbing the trees nod their fragrant greeting to the newcomers, and then scatter their bright crimson and gold cups on the honey suckles and pink laurel and poison ivy and the glad little violet tumbles and splashes over moss covered rocks below. Then the silvery glittering silent river with its green fringed banks and magnificent curve, and the boats at the wharf, lowland and plantation beyond and Georgetown in the distance. Even then before the addition of the railroad and bridges and handsome residences, it is strange any true artist should wander farther for one of nature’s choicest pictures.6
Eufaula was an excellent place to base a company that dealt in slaves. By the 1850s, a covered bridge had joined the two neighbouring states, making commerce between them convenient. The river provided an important highway for shipping cotton, some of which eventually made its way to the manufacturers of Liverpool, England – despite the best efforts of people like Henry and Anna Richardson and Henry Garnet to discourage them from using cotton that was raised from slave labour. Hundreds of planters from Maryland, Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia moved to that vast area of the cotton belt, lured by the affordable land. To raise their crops, they needed thousands of slaves. Between 1840 and 1850 the number of slaves in the county had nearly doubled, from 5,548 to 10,780.7 By the end of the next decade, there were 16,150 slaves in the county, owned by 1,143 masters.8
Businesses sprang up. Thomas Cargile, who had dealings with Cook, was an experienced cobbler and advertised that his “NEGRO SHOES are unsurpassed by any to be found in this market.”9 Dr. William Flake opened a “large and commodious” infirmary in the forest just outside of town. He assured the public that visiting him there would be less expensive than a house call by the physician who made trips to the various plantations scattered around the countryside. He promised to treat slaves for five dollars per week or fifteen dollars per month, but it would cost more for him to perform surgery or to care for “syphilictic cases.”10
In the words of twentieth-century historian Eugenia Persons Smartt, “Eufaula was a place of plenty: her citizens hospitable, her officials faithful, her slaves contented and happy,” but her analysis is rather flawed.11 The town council imposed a fine of one dollar on every slaveholder who did not do his part to patrol the countryside for those runaway slaves who did not see themselves as contented and happy. These five-man patrols had to inspect every street and alley to ensure that all blacks were in their appointed places by the ten o’clock curfew. Violators were to be whipped, not exceeding thirty-nine lashes. Among his duties, the town marshal was responsible for whipping slaves who were either disorderly or profane. Any black who preached to or “exhorted” any slave without being licensed by a local body of white Christians was subjected to thirty-nine lashes for the first offence and fifty lashes for each repeated transgression. Slaves “of good character” who were given written permission by their masters to hire themselves out had to apply to the town council for a permit and pay a fee of five dollars. Additionally, slaves or free blacks were restricted from doing business unless they were under the responsibility of a “good white man.”12
There was little tolerance in Eufaula for those who did not subscribe to the prevailing pro-slavery sentiment. At a meeting of the area’s citizens in 1847, several resolutions were passed unanimously, stating that Congress had no power to pass any laws affecting the institution of slavery; that any new state could organize its own domestic institutions; that they would not vote for any candidate for president or vice-president who would not pledge to oppose all attempts to pass laws or make treaties “affecting injuriously in any way the institution of slavery”; and that no matter which political party they supported, there would be no division of opinion on this matter.13
Captain Elisha Betts, an open-minded Eufaula resident, steered too far away from the popular sentiment. He made the mistake of subscribing to the anti-slavery newspaper National Era and was impressed by its contents, despite not having abolitionist leanings and despite having been “born and raised (being now in the 62nd year of my age) admidst slavery.” It was his opinion that the institution of slavery “has a tendency to vitiate and demoralize those who own them, and to degrade those who do not.” Betts also felt that it had negative effects on the free white population in the northern states, which apathetically turned a blind eye to slavery. No southern member of Congress who knew the truth about slavery would dare to raise his voice against it for fear of being labelled a traitor. Despite his misgivings, Betts was resigned to the reality that slavery was both the law and the custom of the land, and that it could not easily be removed.
When Betts’ copy of the National Era arrived at Eufaula, the postmaster refused to deliver it. He took it upon himself to contact the newspaper’s editor in the Washington office and inform him that he would not deliver that or any other “incendiary sheet.” The paper was neither returned to Washington nor delivered to Betts, and the Era’s editor later reported that he suspected the postmaster had shown it around to others in the area. As a result, a large public meeting was held in Eufaula. The angry crowd turned into a mob and ordered the aging Captain Betts to leave his home. He had been a local hero for his gallantry in the Indian wars years before, but his status was instantly forgotten.
After fleeing, Betts was contacted by a friend who warned him that it would not be safe to return. Betts then sent a written appeal to the newspapers, protesting that he was against extremist views from either camp, and supported the compromises that had been made in Congress that were intended to bring southern and northern perspectives more in line.
The federal government reacted by dismissing the postmaster for refusing to do his duties. This action provoked another mass meeting, where unanimous resolutions were passed supporting the postmaster and refusing to accept any replacement. Eufaula’s residents were not about to passively accept any decree from Washington that they did not agree with. They argued that Alabama had its own laws prohibiting the circulation of “incendiary papers” and that state law was paramount.14
Like other southern newspapers, such as those in Montgomery, Eufaula’s Spirit of the South warned its readers against abolitionists. The August 5, 1851 edition carried an article reminding postmasters to be on the lookout for the anti-slavery paper The Liberator. The editors also watched the distant Canadian papers for news about runaways. With apparent glee, they carried an article on May 8, 1852, from Windsor’s Voice of Liberty, about a Milly Banks who, along with her parents and two children, had successfully fled to Canada from Kentucky and was struggling. After arriving, Milly discovered that she could make only four dollars per month for doing “female labor” full-time. In Kentucky, she had been able to make that same amount by taking in washing at night.15
It was against Alabama state law to teach any slave or free black to read, write, or spell. The penalty was between 250 and five hundred dollars. Free blacks were not allowed to enter Alabama. If caught, they had thirty days to leave or were to receive thirty-nine lashes. If they did not leave after the lashings, they were to be sold at public auction. Anyone who assisted in the escape of a slave could be imprisoned for two to five years.16
In this pro-slavery setting, John C. Cook had a good thing going. Only minor conditions were attached to his type of business in Eufaula. On March 29, 1852, after dealing with a pressing social issue by passing a bylaw “prohibiting the practice of bathing in the River in the daytime,” the town council turned to more serious tasks and passed a tax on slave traders and speculators and created certain guidelines for that particular business. Despite these petty inconveniences, the demand for Cook’s “product” was large and the collateral seemingly secure. In the event that a customer could not pay for “goods” bought on credit, slaves or land could be seized. When Cook sold a slave, he sometimes drew up a mortgage specifying terms of payment and registered it at the county courthouse.17
Cook was quick to take advantage of the opportunities that arose when local planters sold their land. When William De Witt sold his 1,370-acre farm to Alpheus Baker, the sale included fifty slaves. Baker apparently had no need for them and immediately – on that same day – sold the entire lot to Cook for $29,000. Coincidentally, only fifteen days previously, Cook had purchased 1,620 acres from the Bakers.18 The world that those slaves knew would have come to a dramatic end that day. Their only hope of staying together was if the new owner wanted to keep them all. In the hands of a slave dealer they would certainly be separated.
The slave trade had brought Cook and his family great riches. The census of 1860 listed his occupation as “trader” and his assets as worth $55,000. His wife Cecilia was worth another $16,000. Incredibly, their five-year-old daughter, Florence, was listed as owning $10,000 in personal possessions. The family’s total wealth amounted to $27,000 in real estate plus $54,000 in “personal property.”19 The latter no doubt mostly comprised their large holdings of human flesh. Cook was well known not only throughout Alabama but also in the District of Columbia and throughout Maryland. He was among the group of guards and deputies who had been rewarded by the government of Maryland for his role in capturing William Chaplin in 1850. As a close associate of Washington’s Auxiliary Guard, whose job it was to patrol the streets at night looking for runaways, he saw little consequence in rounding up and imprisoning a few free blacks by mistake.
A slave cabin in Barbour County, near Eufaula, Alabama (Library of Congress image mesnp 010000)
It is probably more than coincidence that others in the Auxiliary Guard also re-established themselves in Eufaula, likely maintaining a business connection to the slave trade. That was certainly the case of Hatch Cook, who directly followed in his older brother’s footsteps.20 William Smitha, another of the night watch who was involved in William Chaplin’s capture, was also attracted to Eufaula, presumably as an agent of Cook’s.21 Smitha eventually went into the livery stable business, with Cook acting as guarantor to his loan to purchase the business.22
John Cook’s partnership with Charles M. Price appeared to be a minor sideline to John and Hatch Cook’s main slave-trading operation. The brothers, who conducted their business at various times under the names J.C. Cook & Co. and J.C. Cook & Brother, used a tavern in Eufaula’s newly constructed Exchange building as their headquarters. Hatch had moved to Alabama to oversee the business, but John often travelled there as well. The Cook brothers opened for business by mid-September of 1851 and took out a notice in the Spirit of the South to advertise. They offered a free lunch every day and assured all gentlemen that they could “always find a choice assortment of wine liquors and cigars.” They promised to add a new eating house by November where “oysters and the best of everything that the market affords will be prepared at all hours and on the shortest notice.” As a further enticement they wrote, “It is the intention of the proprietor to keep a first rate house, where gentlemen, either citizens or strangers, can at any time pass a pleasant hour in the enjoyment of every luxury which the most fastidious appetite could desire.”23 The advertisement does not make it clear whether they were still speaking about food.
The business was an immediate hit. Complete with billiard table and other amenities, the tavern became a favourite male gathering place. After attending the grand opening, the local newspaper editor nearly swooned with admiration and perhaps from the aftereffects of sampling the refreshments:
Cook’s new establishment, we know not by what name it is called, but it ought to have a first rate one, for it can’t be beat, was opened to the public with a free lunch on Saturday last and the number of those who ‘smiled’ approvingly through their glasses on the enterprising proprietor, on that interesting occasion was not small. It is a first class house, and would do credit to a town of larger pretensions than Eufaula. The proprietor is a clever fellow and understands his business. His stock of liquors and cigars is A No. 1. He has provided the most ample means of amusement for his visitors, and those who happen to have something of Falstaff’s repugnance to their potations, will find a tall gentleman behind the bar, one Benjamin, by name, who will take pleasure in putting them through in the latest style and or the most approved principles.24
The Cook brothers were clever businessmen. They guaranteed that their human wares were in a “sound and healthy condition.” In at least one case, they gave a one-year warranty, declaring that if the slaves that they sold died or became “unsound” within the year, two arbiters would be selected to decide upon proper financial recompense for the purchaser.25 The brothers also regularly advertised in the Spirit of the South.
This ad appeared regularly in the Eufaula newspaper Spirit of the South in the early months of 1852. (Alabama Department of Archives and History)
The “well selected stock of Maryland” no doubt included Joseph and Adam (since renamed Addison by the Cook brothers) Weems. Perhaps, as was not uncommon, this was done to avoid Adam’s being confused with someone else on the plantation. The likelihood of multiple slaves having the same name was high because John Cook bought and resold so many slaves.
By early 1855, the lustre had faded from the Cook brothers’ partnership. The land boom had subsided. Much of the region’s economic fervour earlier in the century had been based on credit, and debt had started to cripple many borrowers. The Cooks officially dissolved their business that year, and on February 20 they advertised that “all persons indebted to the late firm of J. C. Cook & Bro. will find their Notes and Accounts in the hands of Cochran & Bullock for collection. Their immediate payments will save cost.”26 Not everyone could meet those terms, making the dissolution convoluted and prolonged. For example, the Cory and Barrington families were forced to sign over to Cook the rights to their lot and carriage warehouse if they could not meet the payment deadline. At that point Cook could sell their property and take one of their buggies, worth $150.27
By the end of the harvest season of 1855, John Cook had also decided to quit the farming business and had offered his land for sale. Perhaps one of the reasons he sold his land was that it did not measure up to the idyllic description that he had placed under the heading “Come Buy A Valuable Plantation” in the Eufaula newspaper: “To sum up all in a few words, it is a plantation that can’t be beat in its productions, and in its many other advantages … It is useless to give more particulars, come and examine the Plantation and you will be satisfied to take hold if you want a good plantation.”28
In fact, Cook had only acquired the land in February in a swap with another Barbour County resident, John Horry Dent.29 The two men had frequently done business together. Dent periodically purchased slaves from Cook, who in turn purchased a piano from Dent.30 The two also occasionally exchanged corn and fodder for the farm animals. When he initiated the land exchange in 1855, Dent confided to his diary that the land was inferior, the location remote, the buildings needed to be rebuilt and the fencing repaired. In all, he thought that the obstacles associated with getting the farm into a suitable state were not worth the cost or the effort. In addition, he wrote that it was not a healthy location, as it reminded him of another farm he had owned where he had lost twenty-five slaves to sickness over five years.31 Whatever the true condition of the farm, when it was Cook’s turn to sell he offered flexible terms to prospective buyers; he would be willing to divide the land into smaller parcels “to suit the purchaser.” If desired, he would include “the corn, fodder, Plantation tools, cattle and hogs, horses and mules.” Furthermore, “the Negroes will also be sold, if desired.” Inquiries could be made directly to Cook at his residence or business in Eufaula.32
The Cook brothers also decided to give up their tavern. The unlucky buyer, Samuel Burnett, fell behind on his payments and was forced to turn over “all the stock of Wines and Liquors and Segars of every description now on hand at the establishment known as The Exchange.” Cook and Hatch reserved the right to take any of the tavern’s stock at any time until the bill was paid.33 In another agreement made the same day, Burnett and his partner, James Lucker, were forced to use additional items as collateral, including a billiard table, various glassware, “and many other items too numerous to mention.” However, mentioned by name were the twenty-two-year-old slave Sophia and her three children, five-year-old Henry, three-year-old Ellen, and the infant Elizabeth.34
Along with the sale of his other properties, John Cook expressed a willingness to sell Addison and Joseph to the abolitionists, but demanded that the entire purchase price of $1,700 be paid in advance. In August 1856, Tappan sent the money to Jacob Bigelow, but negotiations fell through and it was returned to him on September 11.35 It is difficult to determine what the problem was, but Cook was doing other strange things at the time.
In a document dated January 3, 1856, but not recorded at the Barbour County Courthouse until July 8, 1856, Cook played the part of a doting father: “In consideration of the natural love and affection which I entertain for my two daughters Mary D. Cook and Florence Cook have Given Granted bargained and conveyed … the following negro slaves … to have and to Hold all Said Slaves to the said Mary D. Cook and Florence Cook and their heirs forever to their own sale and separate use and behoof free from the debts liability or control of their future husbands.” Further, when either daughter married or reached the age of twenty-one, the slaves were to be divided equally between them. All twelve of the slaves were children: Emanuel, Pompey, Russell, Dick, Susan, Lou, Sophia, Adeline, Marion, and Charlotte were all seven years old; Joe was three; and the oldest was a nine-year-old named Joseph. An odd caveat to the transaction was that John C. Cook reserved the right to take back Joseph at any time and “substitute another slave of equal value in his place.”36
Although the age attributed to Joseph is off by one year, the timing plus the curious caveat leads one to speculate that this could have been Joseph Weems. (At fifteen Addison would have been too old to be on the gift list.) Could Cook have been attempting some legal manoeuvring to avoid sending the boy to Tappan and his supporters while still creating a loophole so he could regain ownership of Joseph if necessary? This may help to explain why Bigelow’s first attempt to purchase the boys had failed. Perhaps Cook used the same tactic as had the financially troubled Henry and Catharine Harding some years earlier when they turned property over to their son Charles so that creditors could not seize their assets. Something was certainly amiss. The fact that at the time of the transaction Florence Cook had just celebrated her first birthday added to the absurdity of the situation.
In another attempt to buy the boys’ freedom, Tappan wondered if Cook would agree to deliver them to his agent in Alabama, along with a bill of sale. As part of the deal the slave trader would be expected to deduct the expenses of bringing them to Washington. Tappan also advised Bigelow that “we must take care in making further negotiations not to injure our claim already made.”37 Dealing with Alabama slave owners had been painful for Tappan in the past. He could not forget the occasion, many years earlier, when he had received a slave’s severed ear in the mail. It had been sent by a Montgomery, Alabama slave owner who had expressed his hatred for the northern abolitionist with the sarcastic message to place “the specimen of a negro’s ears” in his “collection.”38
The demands of Tappan’s humanitarian work were great, and dealing with the emotional roller coaster associated with freeing the Weems boys only added to the sixty-nine-year-old’s load. Following the disappointment of his failed dealings with Cook, Tappan and his wife drew up their last will and testament “after having sought Divine direction in the matter” and made a trip to Niagara Falls to revitalize themselves.39 Sarah and Lewis, both previously widowed, had been married only two years, and his busy schedule had not allowed for a proper honeymoon. At the Falls, they acted the part of typical tourists. They began with a trip on the little steamboat called the Maid of the Mist and marvelled at the view. They took a carriage ride over the suspension bridge onto the Canadian side and “called on the Curiosity Shop, the menagerie, museum, etc. Saw two Buffaloes, two wolves, etc.”
A deeply religious couple, they travelled the next day to the “colored” British Methodist Episcopal Church, which was central in the lives of hundreds of fugitive slaves and many generations of their descendants. The chapel was part of a larger conference in Canada West that had recently changed its name from African Methodist Episcopal to British Methodist Episcopal, in tribute to the nation that had granted them their freedom and guaranteed their rights. After some trouble locating the building, the Tappans finally found it but were disappointed to find that the congregation was not there. They contented themselves by travelling throughout the area, hoping that Lewis might recognize some things he had seen when he had visited as a young man in 1815.
Much had changed over the forty-one intervening years and signs of the great battle of Lundy’s Lane in the War of 1812 were no longer evident. Tappan was nearly overcome “by the sublime views that are before us [that] are a sermon & an anthem more impressive than any discourse or hymn from human lips. We hear continually the ‘voice of many waters’ and our thoughts ascend to Him who created, upholds & blesses us – all creatures – and the magnificent scenery that greets our eyes.”40 Thus inspired, Tappan returned to his calling, including his dealings with Cook, with renewed vigour.
Cook’s reputation among the abolitionists was already darkly stained by virtue of his occupation and his unscrupulous character. It was widely known that a couple of years before, the marshal of the District of Columbia had been ordered to arrest Cook and a fellow slave dealer, Benjamin O. Sheckells, for trespassing and stealing “one negro slave named Amstead of great value.” Repeated requests to produce the slave were ignored and presumably he was sold south.41 Cook became even more despised by Tappan with the breakdown of negotiations for the redemption of Addison and Joseph.42 He did nothing to elevate his trustworthiness by offering to have the infamous William H. Birch act as his guarantor for the transaction. Tappan would not consider accepting the security of Cook, Birch, or any of their ilk.43
Cook promised to deliver the boys to his private slave prison in Washington within several weeks. Tappan refused to take any chances with the slaveholder’s pledge and in October of 1856 engaged the services of trusted attorneys Radcliffe & Kennedy, who years earlier had attempted to secure William Chaplin’s freedom, to investigate whether Cook’s property could be seized should he fail to release the brothers. Tappan also made sure the lawyers asked whether Cook used any agent whose property could be seized. Also, “if the money should be paid to Cook in Washington & a bill of sale delivered would there be any risk in John Weems or some friend of his going to Alabama & bringing the young men to Washington?”44 Tappan advised his attorneys to employ a “first rate lawyer” near Cook’s residence in Alabama to warn the slave trader that a law suit would be launched against him if he defaulted on the agreement. Tappan proposed to deposit the money in a bank or with a “responsible person known to be such by both parties, to be paid on the delivery of the boys in Washington & free papers.” Experience had taught him to have no faith in Cook’s promises or in those of any of his friends.45
The arrest warrant for slave traders John Cook and Benjamin Sheckells for unlawfully possessing another man’s property, in this case a slave named Amstead (RG21, Entry 6, D.C. Circuit Court, Box 865, NARA)
It is quite possible that Tappan had some inside information on Cook’s financial situation. As a merchant, Tappan had long been wary of extending credit and began to keep extensive files on people to evaluate their credit-worthiness. By using his extensive connections with the nation’s abolitionists, he developed a network of contacts (including a young Illinois lawyer named Abraham Lincoln) who could offer credit information and character assessments on people from across the country.46 By 1841 Tappan had developed America’s first commercial credit-rating business, known as the Mercantile Agency. Ten years later, the agency had two thousand full-time employees. Still today, it remains the world’s largest credit-reporting agency, operating under the name of Dun and Bradstreet.
John Cook was indeed deeply in debt. He and his wife, Cecilia, approached Justice of the Peace John H. Goddard, an old friend and former head of the Auxiliary Guard, to draw up papers to authorize Hatch Cook and a man named John Colby to sell all of the couple’s Alabama properties. Hatch could more easily handle the sales because he had put down permanent roots in the Deep South after his marriage to Elizabeth Brown on December 15, 1853.47 In an attempt to satisfy the “divers and sundry persons” to whom John Cook owed “divers and sundry amounts,” Goddard and another justice of the peace took Cecilia aside and questioned whether she fully understood the proceedings and willingly went along with her husband’s decision.48 Satisfied that she was freely giving her consent, they signed and sealed the document on December 29, 1856. Five days later the document was recorded at the Barbour County Courthouse and the process to liquidate all of John Cook’s Alabama assets began.
Tappan felt a special obligation to the fundraisers to take as little risk as humanly possible and sought their counsel on his proposed actions. They were willing to do whatever they could to garner publicity that would help restore Addison and Joseph to their parents.49 Despite the passage of four years since the fundraising for the Weems family had first begun, they were still very much on the minds of the British. Anti-slavery societies sent clothing to the United States to be sold at fundraising bazaars and made special mention of certain items being earmarked for the beleaguered Weems family.50
However, Cook would budge little with his terms. He demanded that a bond be posted to ensure that he would receive his money. Tappan worked feverishly to arrange it, along with Ezra Lincoln Stevens, who was a lawyer; former editor of the True Democrat, a Cleveland newspaper with anti-slavery leanings; former Oberlin collegemate of Sylvanus Boynton; as well as an associate of Jacob Bigelow in the Washington branch of the Underground Railroad.51 Tappan asked Gamaliel Bailey, who was the editor of the National Era and who was financially indebted to him, to post the bond. Bailey agreed and planned on giving the bond certificate to John Weems. Tappan was alarmed at the suggestion and demanded that he receive it to ensure that all of the transactions be conducted in the most fiscally responsible and businesslike manner, again making reference to his obligations to the British fundraisers. Feeling that the passage of time was against them, he admonished his colleagues to act in haste and quickly make whatever arrangements were necessary.52
While the Cooks were selling their southern properties, Ezra Stevens and Major Benjamin B. French, a D.C. businessman who had founded the Washington Gas Light Company along with Jacob Bigelow and others, stepped forward to guarantee that the money would be returned to the Weems ransom fund should Cook default on his promise.53 Their humanitarian gesture, taken at great personal risk, turned out to be unnecessary. Lawyers Radcliffe and Kennedy advised Cook to honour his previous commitment.54 As 1856 drew to a close, Tappan once again authorized the payment of $1,700 and, with consideration for Joseph and Addison’s comfort, asked that the boys be furnished with warm clothing as they made their way from Alabama to the winter climes of Washington. He also beseeched Stevens to send him a full account of the boys’ journey and their arrival in the capital.55
Like their mother, their sister Catharine, and their two youngest brothers, John and Sylvester, Addison and Joseph had been purchased with funds raised primarily by British supporters. They arrived safely in Washington on February 4, to the delight of all involved. Tappan immediately shared the news with Anna Richardson in England.56 He also urged Stevens to consult with Jacob Bigelow and quickly register the boys’ emancipation. When he did not get an immediate reply, an impatient Tappan wrote again.57 He wanted to ensure that there would be no legal loose ends, no potentially tragic oversights.58
On February 9, 1857, John Weems, who was now the legal “owner” of his two newly redeemed sons, had their manumission papers drawn up before a justice of the peace in Washington. The reason given for their freedom – “from motives of benevolence and humanity” – hardly needed to be expressed.59 Addison was now sixteen, Joseph only twelve.60 The papers read:
Know all men by these presents That I, John Weems of the City of Washington in the District of Columbia from motives of benevolence and humanity have manumitted and hereby do manumit and set free from Slavery my two boys Addison Weems aged sixteen years and Joseph Weems aged twelve year.
In testimony where of I have here unto set my hand and affixed my seal this ninth day of February in the year of our Lord one thousand Eight hundred and Fifty-seven.
His
John X Weems
mark
Signed Sealed and
Delivered in presence of
Samuel Grubb
John S. Hollingshead61
John and Arabella had one more child still in slavery. Augustus, whose youth was snatched away from him, had suffered more than any twenty-two-year-old should have to experience. After nearly five years of being separated from his family, he must have been tempted to abandon hope many times. But somehow he had managed to get word to his father as to his whereabouts. His owner had agreed to sell him for exactly what he had paid – $1,100.62 The Washington and New York Underground Railroad prepared for another passenger.
Tappan hoped that the newly emancipated Addison and Joseph would immediately enter into trades and help raise enough money to free their brother. The reunited family could then purchase a piece of land in a free state or in Canada, where Arabella had travelled in that spring to visit her family and friends, including Ann Maria, who had recently written to Tappan and reported that she was doing well. Nevertheless, Tappan worried for the Weemses’ future and hoped that in their innocence they would stay clear of any dishonest men.63
The manumission document John Weems signed registering the freedom of his sons Joseph and Addison
John Weems already had some land and was good at farming. But he wanted to move away from a slave community to a place where he could gather all of his children around him and they could receive a good education and prosper. Perhaps that dream would reach fruition, if only Augustus could be redeemed.64