Freed slave who penned sarcastic letter to old master after he was asked back to farm pictured for first time
The photograph, scratched and undated, is captioned “Brother Jordan Anderson”. He is a middle-aged black man with a long beard and a righteous stare, as if he were a preacher locking eyes with a sinner, or a judge about to dispatch a thief to the gallows.
Anderson was a former slave who was freed from a Tennessee plantation by Union troops in 1864 and spent his remaining 40 years in Ohio.
He lived quietly and probably would have been forgotten, if not for a remarkable letter to his former master published in a Cincinnati newspaper shortly after the Civil War.
Scathing: Former slave Jordan Anderson (left) wrote a satirical letter in 1865 to his old master after he was asked to return to work for him. He wrote the letter with the help of Valentine Winters (right)
Treasured as a social document, praised as a masterpiece of satire, Anderson’s letter has been anthologized and published all over the world.
Historians teach it, and the letter turns up occasionally on a blog or on Facebook. Humorist Andy Borowitz read the letter recently and called it, in an email to The Associated Press, “something Twain would have been proud to have written”.
Addressed to one Col. Patrick Henry Anderson, who apparently wanted Jordan to come back to the plantation east of Nashville, the letter begins cheerfully, with the former slave expressing relief that “you had not forgotten Jordon” (there are various spellings of the name) and were “promising to do better for me than anybody else can”. But, he adds, “I have often felt uneasy about you”.
He informs the colonel that he’s now making a respectable wage in Dayton, Ohio, and that his children are going to school.
He tallies the monetary value of his services while on Anderson’s plantation – $11,608 – then adds, “we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you.”
The original: Jordon Anderson”s letter was dictated and published in the New York Daily Tribune in 1865
Turning serious, he alludes to violence committed against women back in Tennessee and wonders what would happen to his own family members. “I would rather stay here and starve – and die, if it come to that – than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters”.
He asks if there are schools now for blacks. “The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits,” he writes.
Then he signs off with a swift, unforgettable kick.
“Say howdy to George Carter,” he says, “and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me”.
Anderson’s words, a timeless kiss-off to a hated boss, also are a puzzle: How could an illiterate man, newly released from bondage, produce such a work of sophisticated satire
After the letter resurfaced online earlier this year, along with questions about its authenticity, The Associated Press sought answers.
Workplace: A house in Lebanon, Tennessee sits on land once part of a plantation where Anderson was a slave to Col. Patrick Henry Anderson. In 1865, Col. Anderson sold the estate for a pittance to get out of debt
Death of him: Two years after the sale, Col. Anderson died at the age of 44. He is buried in Lebanon, Tenn
Fromdocuments compiled by the AP and in interviews with scholars, Anderson emerges as a very real person and the very real author of his story — though, from the beginning, it was reported to have been “dictated”. Hisletter is an outstanding, but not unique, testament to the ability of slaves to turn horror into humor.
“The sly irony is very much in the Mark Twain style,” Twain biographer Ron Powers said of the letter, especially the request for unpaid wages. “Whammo.”
“It is that wonderful combination of serious thought and satirical chastisement,” said Yale University history professor David Blight, who loves to read the letter during a lecture class on Reconstruction.
“It represents so many definitions of freedom — dignity, access to education, family. And in the end, it also meant wages.”
According to available records, Jordan Anderson was born somewhere in Tennessee around 1825 and by age 7 or 8 had been sold to a plantation owned by Gen. Paulding Anderson in Big Spring, Tenn.
Patrick Henry Anderson was one of thegeneral’s sons and, by the mid-1840s owned Jordan and other slaves. Jordan Anderson married Amanda McGregor in 1848 and they had 11 children.
Family: Jewell Wilson, the great-grandson of former slave Jordan Anderson, holds a family directory as he poses with his son Jewell Wilson Jr., left, and his nephew Barry Mumford Wilson
Union troops camped on the plantation, and Jordan was freed in 1864 by the provost marshal general of the Department of Nashville.
RoyE. Finkenbine, a professor at the University of Detroit-Mercy who is planning a biography of Anderson, thinks it’s likely Jordan was given toPatrick (born in 1823) as a playmate and personal servant when they were young.
According to the 1860 slave schedules in the U.S. Census, Patrick had five “slave houses” totaling 32 people – 19 males and 13 females.
While the schedules don’t list the slaves by name, there were two men, ages 34 and 35, who would have been about the age Jordan was in 1860.
Finkenbine says Jordan appears to have been the oldest male slave of working age, and that might be why the plantation owner was so eager to entice him back.
Many of the slaves had fled, and Anderson was mortgaged to the hilt.
“Harvest is coming on. Jordan’s a guywho’s played… sort of a quasi-managerial role in the past,” Finkenbine said. “And if he can convince this guy to come back, here’s aguy who can not only maybe get the harvest in, but convince some of these other slaves that have gone… get them to come back and be workers on the plantation. It’s kind of his last-ditch effort to save it.”
Proud: Jewell Wilson sits with his wife, Estella Wilson, at their home in Dayton, Ohio. Anderson spent his last 40 years in the state after he was freed from the plantation by Union troops in 1864
Investigation: Roy Finkenbine, from the University of Detroit, holds a print showing Jordan Anderson. Finkenbine is planning to write a biography of the remarkable former slave
Buthe doesn’t save it. In September 1865, Finkenbine says, Anderson sold the nearly 1,000-acre estate to his attorney for a pittance, in an apparent attempt to get out from under his crushing debt. Just two yearslater, Patrick Henry Anderson died at the age of 44.
That’s what’s known of the famous letter’s recipient. What of its writer
Jordan Anderson’s collaborator — to whom he reportedly dictated the letter — was a Dayton banker named Valentine Winters.
An abolitionist who once hosted Abraham Lincoln at his mansion, Winters regarded the letter as excellent propaganda, according to Finkenbine. It was originally published in August 1865 by the Cincinnati Commercial, a paper with Republican leanings.
Jordan probably made his way to Dayton with the help of Winters’ son-in-law, Dr. Clarke McDermont, the surgeon in charge of the Cumberland Military Hospital in Nashville, where Jordan and Mandy worked for a time, says Finkenbine, who places Jordan and his family in Dayton by August 1864. Anderson became an employee and tenant of Winters.
Scene: When Anderson was asked to work back at the plantation, pictured, he asked in the letter for a return on all the money he should have earned and said he had his daughters” safety to think about
Desperate: It is believed Col Anderson, who owned the land where the plantation stood, pictured, appealed to Anderson as his other slaves had abandoned him
McDermont expressed concern for the former slaves working as nurses and orderlies and laundresses at the hospital. “And he actually writes back and forth to both his father-in-law and some of the other abolitionists in Dayton, saying, “Can you raise money for these people Can you send clothing for these people”” Finkenbine said.
Anderson’s letter comes right out of the life he had survived. From the insanity of slavery, he and others developed a deadpan, absurdist take that revealed their feelings to one another and hid them from their masters.
“Slaveshad to be guarded as to what they said because they would be punished if caught critiquing or offending the master class – thus they developedsophisticated forms of indirection and other forms of masking,” said Glenda Carpio, a professor of African and African-American studies at Harvard University and author of Laughing Fit to Kill: Black Humor in the Fictions of Slavery.
Anderson’s letter is special in part, Carpio says, because it was written down. Until late in the 19th century, when Joel Chandler Harris’ Br’er Rabbit tales were first published, slave humor was essentially an oral tradition.
And while newspapers sometimes printed letters to former masters, Finkenbine notes, few were “so challenging” as Anderson’s.
Words of freedom: The Freedmen”s book was reissued after being compiled almost 150 years ago by abolition campaigner Lydia Maria Child (right)
The letter was soon reprinted by Lydia Maria Child in her Freedmen’s Book, used by schools in the South for former slaves.
Finkenbine says he has found instances of Anderson’s letter appearing as far away as Switzerland.
Notes on some of these publications state that Jordan dictated the letter verbatim to Winters and that Winters is the one submitting it for publication.
In a 2006 speech at a conference on slavery reparations, historian Raymond Winbush retold the story of Anderson’s letter. He also revealed that he had tracked down some of Patrick Henry Anderson’s descendants, still living in Big Spring.
“What’s amazing is that the current living relatives of Colonel Anderson are still angry at Jordan for not coming back,” knowing that the plantation was in serious disrepair after the war, said Winbush, director of the Institute for Urban Research at Maryland’s Morgan State University.
LETTER FROM A FREED MAN TO HIS OLD MASTER
August 7, 1865
To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jordon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin”s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor”s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams”s Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.
In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve – and die, if it come to that – than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant,