Clifton Institute

An idea is just that, an idea, if you fail to set into motion the steps necessary to make that idea a reality. In 2010 the Slave Dwelling Project was just a crazy idea in my head until I had my first sleepover alone in a slave cabin at Magnolia Plantation and Gardens in Charleston, SC.

Convincing the stewards of extant slave dwellings that my spending a night on their property would be good for all involved, was not an easy task. If I were the steward, I would certainly question the motive of one who would make such an awkward request.

To remain relevant, ideas must evolve. Fast forward to present and now there is criteria that historic sites must meet for the Slave Dwelling Project to interact with them. Gone are the days of saying yes to every invitation.

There were times when I would go to sleepovers at historic sites without a plan and figured it all out on the spot. More recently, board members, Prinny Anderson and Living Historian Jerome Bias have been volunteering behind the scenes to schedule, plan and help me implement these frequent interactions with historic sites. They are highly admired by me because meticulous planning is not where I function best. They help keep me on task. Showing up at the right historic site at the right time is very important to the success of the Slave Dwelling Project.

This planning process works best when we get to plan the events with the site stewards. This would be the case at Clifton Institute. It was because of in-depth planning between both parties that we pulled off a successful event with lots of firsts and moving parts. The event was titled: The Slave Dwelling Project Comes to Fauquier. 

For the past two years, Jerome Bias has been our main cook for our living history troupe. Late in the planning stage, a shoulder ailment dictated that Jerome could not participate in the Clifton Institute event. In steps Dontavius Williams of Chronicles of Adam. Fortunately for Clifton Institute, they got a cook and a storyteller. Unfortunate for Dontavius was when he signed on to cook, the number of people to be fed was fifty, that number doubled.

When Jerome and I travel together, I am usually his assistant. The assistant is responsible for helping with food preparation, keeping the fire going and washing dishes. What scared me about the number of people to be fed, doubling, was that I would not be the assistant for Dontavius because of my speaking obligations.

This would be my second time that I traveled out of state with Dontavius. The first time was at Menokin in Warsaw, Virginia. Menokin is a site with no extant slave cabins so, we pitched tents on the spot on the property that archaeology had proven the cabins were once located. The Menokin event was a success, but it taught Dontavius that driving to these events was not always wise.

After flying my first leg from Charleston, SC, Dontavius and I hooked up in the Charlotte, NC airport and completed our journey to Dulles International Airport where we were picked up by our host Sheri Thorpe. Sheri assisted in planning the activities for the weekend. Staff member, Felisha Brooks, who also assisted with the planning, joined us at an earlier sleepover at James Madison’s Montpelier. 

The two-level log slave cabin at Clifton Institute is in the process of being restored. The shutters and doors had not yet been installed. The cranes in the hearth had also not been installed. I knew, based on my knowledge of assisting the cook, that not having those cranes in place would make the cooking in the hearth more of a challenge. The saving grace was the modern kitchen in the big house was only a few steps away from the slave cabin and it was determined that most of the cooking and the food preparation would take place there.

It was also in real beds in the big house where Dontavius and I would sleep on the first night. Dontavius spent the second night in the big house because he did not bring any sleeping gear with him.

My first order of business was to give a presentation at Kettle Run High School. A combination of classes made for a standing room only crowd. Based on the questions asked, I would say that most of the kids stayed alert and got the message.

The evening concluded with a reception at Clifton Institute. An eclectic group of people joined us for a catered meal and a general overview of the Slave Dwelling Project. My friend, Kelley Fanto Deetz, was there. She wrote the book titled: Bound to the Fire: How Virginia’s Enslaved Cooks Helped Invent American Cuisine. Kelley would introduce me at my first speaking engagement the next day at the Afro-American Historical Association of Fauquier County. Kelley also volunteered to assist Dontavius with the cooking.

And what an introduction it was by Kelley. I immediately felt that I could not live up to all that she included in the introduction. If I could hire her as a spokesperson, life would be great. This full house of participants was even greater and more diverse than the group from the previous night at Clifton Institute. People from neighboring Loudoun County, VA attended. They were associated with Oatlands where we spent a night in 2017. Some members of the audience would spend the night with us at Clifton Institute.

But first, we had to make two stops before we made our way back to Clifton Institute. Those stops were Mount Bleak at Sky Meadows and Weston Farmstead in Casanova. Our hosts, Sheri Thorpe and Felisha Brooks convinced them that their participation would make the event much more robust. Living history events were happening at both sites.

Back at Clinton Institute, Dontavius Williams was performing well. Kelley Fanto Deetz totally neglected her archaeological show and tell to assist Dontavius with food preparation which proved very necessary.

The audience was a mixture of the people who participated in the various programs over the course of two days and those who were participating for the first time. Not only were they treated to the food that was prepared on site by Dontavius, they were also treated to his storytelling.

The conversation around the campfire was robust. For my second consecutive time in Virginia, an African American participant adamantly expressed the displeasure of having weddings at plantations. I’ve now added to my research the need to find out what the policies about weddings are at their sites.

Eight of us spent the night in the restored slave cabin, six upstairs and two downstairs. Others slept in tents. The next morning, we were all treated to a worship service at the site.

Conclusion:

The Clifton Institute involved in-depth planning which paid off handsomely. I foresee this event happening again in the future. Our host took me literally when I told them to maximize my time when I am at their site.

Sleepovers that invite as many people as are willing to participate are rare. The ability to serve to the public the food that is prepared by the living historians is also rare. At Clifton Institute, we had both opportunities and the ability to involve two additional sites to boot. We also had an opportunity to present at a local school and the African American Preservation organization. Additionally we squeezed in a last minute visit to a private residence with a slave dwelling. If we were able to do this combination of things at each site of which we interact, our method of honoring the enslaved Ancestors would be that much more effective. And most impressive was the ability for Clifton Institute to make this all happen. Let do this again soon.

Terry Owsley

There is something special about built places. Especially a built place infused with meaning and history. To read the craftsmen’s messages in chisel marks left in notched wood, fingerprints pressed into handmade bricks and the craftsman’s ingenuity in stone selection in chimney and wall design. There is something very special about built space. Especially a place where lives were lived with dignity, integrity, and forbearance in the face of the trauma of the hideous racial injustice of chattel slavery. A place of tears and shared suffering and fear. A place of love for children born and the horror of having them snatched from a mother’s arms and sold far away never to be seen again. A place of resilience against oppression. A place where lives were lived with hope in the face of despair. A place where unsung heroes of humanity made their mark in the struggle for justice and equality just by facing each new day under enslavement with a hope, “Perhaps today we will be free.” A place to stand together with those who went before us and give value to their lives denied them while they lived. It is a humbling honor to have had the opportunity to share a meal together prepared over an open fire like they would have and to sleep in their place like an overnight stay with a dear old friend or just a fellow traveler on life’s journey needing a trusted place to rest my head. Thank you, Joe and Dontavius, and the many others who helped me to relive their lives and intertwine them with mine for a brief but eternal memorable moment.

My most memorable experience was the campfire conversation. It was a chance for us to weave our stories together and reflect on racial injustice today in our lives. It takes courage and honesty to share the pain of the trauma of living in a society still racked with racial prejudice and kept hidden under fear and white shame and oppression. But like the predecessors who we were commemorating; dignity, integrity and forbearance took center stage and faced despair. Our voices mingled with the echoes of the enslaved I could hear being whispered in the soft breeze “freedom”, “justice for all”, “dignity”, “honor”, “respect”… The evil scars swollen with the infection of prejudice, hatred, and greed were lanced open and the truth after nearly 400 years of stolenness of body and robbed opportunity was laid bare again and again and seen for what they are, lies. The lies of inferiority and sub humanness fell into the flames and drifted away in the floating dying embers lifted up by the fire in our souls of spoken and heard truth. We could hear one another, share in the pain and the shame and seek peace and unity and healing. In these present times of going backward, I saw a new hope that we could go forward and I felt a renewed inspiration to help build a space where the truth that all men (and women) are created equal and endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights will not be denied. We CAN create a world of harmony where we celebrate diversity and recognize the inestimable value of every human being and where the strength of those who have now gone from this earth and who were denied justice can carry us through to the other side with a song of victory on our lips and a sense of righteousness being satisfied in our hearts. We can prove that no life however devalued while here was not lived in vain and bring redemption to the past, in the present, and for the future. Thank you for the Slave Dwelling Project for making this happen with the simple act of sleeping in a built place to remember and honor the lives of those who lived there.

Jessica Black, Clifton Institute Intern

Because I was involved in the planning of the Slave Dwelling Project Comes to Fauquier, I just knew I had to be there to see how it turned out. My day started with the presentation that Joe gave at the Afro-American Historical Society. He talked about what the Slave Dwelling Project is and all the states that he has visited throughout his eight years doing the project. Joe talked about how his mission was to bring attention to these slave dwellings and how we should be preserving them. I was excited to learn about Joe’s future sleepovers in the Virgin Islands and his plans to follow John Brown’s trail throughout America.

I knew that there were events happening in three different places throughout Fauquier, which is what made this event so much different than all the others. I wish I could have gone to them, but I mainly spent my day at the Clifton Institute, enjoying the beautiful landscape that I had experienced all summer. I participated in Kelley Deetz’s archaeological workshop and found a piece of glass and brick near the kitchen. I was excited to participate in this because I am taking an archaeology class this semester and would have hands-on experience before the class even got started. The textile demonstrations that were happening on the lawn were very interesting to me. There were quilters that interested me because my grandmother makes quilts and it was cool to see the process that you go through to make one.

As the air began to get a little crisp, it was time for dinner. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I enjoyed most all of it. After dinner, we had the wonderful Dontavius tell us about Adam’s story. His character and his story were so powerful and moving. I enjoyed the audience participation and how Adam gave blessing dolls away, each with a very nice meaning behind it.

After Adam’s story was done and the sky was getting dark, it was time for the campfire conversation. It was a struggle for me to figure out how to write notes without any light. There wasn’t any heated debate happening, but a majority of the points that were made added to the conversation.

After the conversation was over, all I had on my mind was to sleep. But when you sleep in a tent with everyone else snoring, it’s kinda hard to get any sleep at all. I don’t think I slept very much and woke up at around 5 in the morning. We had set our alarm for 5:30, so I decided to lay there for 30 minutes and try not to freak out at the various noises I was hearing in the woods around me. The 6 am service was very moving and I am glad I was there to experience it. Taking advantage of the morning silence and singing in a place where the enslaved would have made me feel something powerful. I leave my experience with my eye opened (but also half closed because I am very tired) about the issues that we should be having conversations about in our everyday lives.

The Slave Dwelling Comes to Fauquier County
Participant Blog by Deborah A Lee, September 3, 2018

I appreciated participating in “The Slave Dwelling Project Comes to Fauquier” on August 25-26, 2018. As an independent historian who has worked in local African American history for twenty years, I felt heartened by the collaboration between the three historic sites and the Afro-American Historical Association of Fauquier County, the research and interpretation into the lives of enslaved people and the public interest in this subject.

The Slave Dwelling Project seeps like healing waters into barriers people carry within them, helping them gently crumble. As a public historian, I have experienced and witnessed the embarrassment and complicated feelings that black and white people feel about slave dwellings. This project holds these sites of conscience to the light as sacred and honors their inhabitants—unique individuals worthy of respect. We recognized many of them by name thanks to research already done, and hopefully more about them and their lives will be discovered. Finally, the project invites inquiry and promotes conversation among descendants of slaves and slaveholders and others about preserving and interpreting such sites. This dialog facilitates understanding and helps create a more just and healthy society.

I enjoyed visiting all of the sites and partaking of the wholesome and delicious foods prepared over an open hearth by Tracy Reitnauer at Sky Meadows and Dontavius Williams at Clifton. Williams’s portrayal of an enslaved man named Adam was wonderful and moving. The campfire conversation was both civil and challenging. It felt good to have a safe space for candid and open dialogue on issues of race.

My most cherished memory of the weekend was awakening Sunday morning and experiencing the vast stillness laced with insect sounds, as did earlier inhabitants of Clifton. I felt visceral empathy for those who realized in the dim morning light that they were yet “a slave,” compelled to go through the day and perhaps their whole lives in that situation. The burden felt heavy and defeating, yet enslaved people carried on, often buoyed by faith, hope and community. Some even manifested the inner peace and spiritual freedom of individuals with a high level of consciousness.

I then imagined waking up as an owner of human beings, conditioned by social custom to carry out the role of master or mistress. I recalled from my historical research the life of Ann R. Page of Clarke County, a plantation mistress who wrote that she desired “above all earthly things the abolition of Slavery.” She recalled that every night she laid her head on the pillow in fear and awakened “only to despair.” Her contemporary, George Carter of Oatlands, who supported and participated in slavery despite his father’s largescale emancipations, wrote to his sister, “I do not understand the management of slaves, neither do I think…either of us ever will.” Without a clear conscience, accessing inner peace and joy is infinitely more difficult.

 

The Slave Dwelling Project event closed with a lovely sunrise service conducted by Dr. Ellsworth L.B. Weaver. He, too, spoke of the stillness along with the hope that enslaved people kept alive in their hearts. We sang some of the beautiful, stirring spirituals they created to express the yearnings of their souls. How moving it was to slip away from our ordinary, comparatively privileged lives for the weekend to honor them in community.

DNA History and American History
Fauquier County, VA Slave Dwelling Sleepover
By Kathleen Fraser

“So what did you do last weekend?”
“I slept in a cabin once inhabited by enslaved people.”
– Blank Stare –
“Why?”
“Because I want to learn.”
“How was it?”
“It was a completely unexpected experience that I’ll value forever.”

Historian and Founder of the Slave Dwelling Project Joseph McGill offered a warm invitation to celebrate African-American history through storytelling, sharing food, presentations, in-depth conversation, and sleeping in a cabin once inhabited by enslaved people.

Our group of 50 something participants enjoyed a delicious brunch and presentation at the African American Museum located in The Plains, VA. McGill’s shared his 8-year journey of creating and expanding the Slave Dwelling Project in his efforts to record slave dwellings in a database and for people to be able to experience these places in depth.

I came with no expectations and I left with more than I could have imagined.

Participants were invited to visit 3 farm locations that historically held people in bondage. There were also well-preserved slave dwellings at each site. Dwellings which had been inhabited and / or built by enslaved people. I had visited the first location, Sky Meadows, a number of times for hiking and for a civil war re-enactment. The historical Edmonds’ house is right next to it. The Edmonds had hosted and hid Confederate soldiers during the Civil War. Confederate and Union troops both camped at Sky Meadow. The juxtaposition of enslaved, free civilians, and soldiers from both sides bore an irony that exceeds any attempt at logic if you are searching for answers with a compassionate heart.

I visited the Weston Farmstead in nearby Casanova and walked among the outbuildings from the 1880s and the large main house which looked like someone had closed its’ doors a hundred years ago and just recently opened them. The slave cabin was a bit far from the main house. I spoke at length with the blacksmith. There was plenty of historical welding tools, horseshoes, fire tongs, and other metal items. There were no leg irons, arm shackles, neck collars, or other metal restraints which would have been made in the blacksmith shop. Erasure is what I think the term is: don’t represent it and it never existed. The big beautiful house takes on a new meaning when its history includes human bondage.

Traveling down the long driveway leading to the picturesque Clifton Farms’ house which had been built in the 1830s, I became acutely aware that if I had to escape this place, there would be no hiding from it and I’d surely be found.

Participants gathered by the lake at the picnic tables set before the front steps of the ‘Big House.’ It was weird how we all started calling it that.

The landscape was beautiful: rolling hillsides, mountains in the distance, geese, beavers, birds, and more suggested this was a paradise. A massive tree with a trunk nearly 3 feet wide caught my eye and my stomach sank. When I looked at the folks sitting near me, we were all staring at the tree in silence. It was as if its long-outstretched branches had whispered something and we didn’t quite know what to make of it but it scared us.

The cabin we were to sleep in was behind the house. It had served as the slave quarters and kitchen. It was a small two-story house made of tightly knitted logs. A fire snapped fitfully in the hearth and the heat rose with consistency throughout the day to the second floor. There were two doors, two windows, and a staircase that spiraled up to the second floor which itself had a fireplace and three windows. Very little breeze made it through and it was hot.

Our group could not fathom the labor required to cook on an open fire day in and day out, as the air scorched over a hundred degrees from flames that had burned non-stop. The cook would be handling heavy cast iron pots, picking food from the garden/ field, prepping it, perhaps butchering a farm animal and more to put food on the table for the people that held them in bondage.

Grey slated steps went under the cabin and led to a tunnel that burrowed from the cabin to the basement kitchen of the main house. Slaves would bring food to the main house by this route. Earth had filled out the floor and sides of the tunnel and we had to crouch in order not to bump our heads. There were plenty of spiders, a water heater and the reminisce of the kitchen and hearth of the big house. The past was only half buried.

The scent of spiced dishes brought us back to our picnic tables. Chef Dontavius Williams cooked traditional African-American cuisine and we ate as a group by the lakeside at dusk: Jambalaya, roasted corn, squash pudding, cucumber salad and more were offered in abundance. We ate heartedly and enjoyed speaking with each other about the day. Our gathering was full of reverence and wonder like a church picnic on a Sunday afternoon.

 

As the sun dipped towards the slip of fog hovering over the lake, we were stunned by a re-enactor dressed in period clothes singing, “Steal Away,” a cappella. With this one song, he set a tone of respect and contemplation for the evening. He spoke his character, “Adam,” a man who had been enslaved his whole life. He recalled the joy of showing off his skills as a child to a man he did not realize would be purchasing him and taking him from his mother at age 9. He spoke of not knowing that when his mother kissed him, it would be the last time he saw her. The trauma he experienced buried itself in his psyche and he feared every day that his own children would be taken.

Re-enactments vary. American Civil War participants re-enact battles, sing by the fire, drill, play cards, boast about their soldier skills, and battle plans, etc. But how does one re-enact an enslaved person? They could not express themselves and were required by threat to present a false affect. They were expected to dumb themselves down, act child-like, and ignorant. All of this and more so that white people would not feel threatened by their skills, intelligence, and humanity. Enslaved people could not own their talents, make a living from their skills, or negotiate a fair deal. This list could go on…

The re-enactor did an excellent job. Initially, he joked with us. He seemed child-like and unthreatening. I felt awkward like he was the caricature that America has come to believe. But how could he do otherwise? He drew us in with his humor and at the right moment, he gave a glimpse of the intelligent, strong, courageous man that knew exactly the inhumane existence he was being forced to live and how strong he was for being able to endure it and to bring that courage to the next generation.

The sunset fully on those that were left gathered around the fire. Led by Mr. McGill, we spoke about racism. The discussion was raw, controversial, heart-breaking, hopeful, educating, and more. It was the first time I had heard the term, “DNA history” along with “American history.” I am not of African-American DNA and I had been questioning myself, ‘who am I to be here?’ But after hearing these two terms, I knew I belonged. Slavery is a part of American history and I am an American citizen. As U.S. citizens, all ethnicities are joined together; to know our inclusive history serves to create understanding among us and hope to further our equality and our Nation.

I slept on the second floor of the cabin with 5 other people. Two young ladies slept on the first floor. We placed our hands on the imprint of the star above the fire place: a symbol for Africa and for the North Star which led to places in the U.S. that had abolished slavery. I wondered who had put it there and what was the conversation that took place while it was being etched into the surface. How many prayers on bended knees were spoken just below it?

Sleeping, and I’ll have to be honest, was restful. I have a teenage daughter and elderly mother that I take care of and with no one needing me, I slept deep.

We were awoken by Dr. Ellsworth Weaver singing, “There Must Be a God Somewhere.” The sun was not quite clear of the horizon and fog still blanketed the ground. As the group joined him by the water, we sang, “Sweet Low, Sweet Chariot.” I imagined that if I were not able to go from this place, I would throw my voice as far across the lake as I could, so I sang loud.

Dr. Ellsworth led prayer, acknowledged those enslaved on the 3 plantations by having their names spoken aloud, and he blessed us.

I encourage everyone to at least attend one event. It’s an experience that brings awakening like no other.