The Prince of Jockeys

by Pellom McDaniels III

  While scientists like Morton used the eclipse to prove theories related to activity on the surface of the sun and to record the planets' movement through the solar system, others viewed the natural occurrence with feelings ranging from dread and gloom to curiosity and approbation. To the faithful, the “sickly green hue” that blanketed the earth and made a frightful sight of the land, causing domestic animals to wander the fields and birds to fly distracted in the dimly lit sky, was but one revelation of the power of the “Omnipotent Creator.”6 To the uneducated masses, the mysterious event unfolding in the heavens signified an uncertain future. Some saw the eclipse as an antecedent to death and destruction, which were sure to follow such a foreboding display of otherworldliness.

  Yet for others, the natural phenomenon was a clear sign of the end of one era and the beginning of a new epoch in human history. To the forward-looking and learned, the eclipse metaphorically marked the end of a world that had grown old and tired. Out of the terrible silence and darkness consuming the land there emerged a beauty reflecting the process of renewal and rebirth. For African Americans, whose lives had been changed by the Civil War, the rights and privileges attained through Federal legislation, and the burgeoning possibilities for social, economic, and political growth, their eyes were fixed on a future in which they emerged from the darkness of slavery into the light of full citizenship. More than anything, the solar eclipse was a sign from the heavens that the future was written in the stars, and no white man on earth had the ability to change it. For America Murphy (who might have been using her married name, Burns) and her son Isaac, this sign in the sky could have meant a number of things or nothing at all. But one thing was certain: if change was inevitable and ordained by God, Isaac's future was tied to the racial destiny of a people grounded in their faith in things unseen.

  Sometime after the death of Jerry Skillman (Burns), America and her two children left Camp Nelson and traveled to Lexington, which was teeming with former slaves in search of opportunities to express their newfound freedom. Depending on the time of year, the health of her children, and the available means of transportation, the eighteen-mile journey could have taken several hours or a few days. There are many reasons why America would have chosen to leave Camp Nelson, most of which were closely tied to the numerous changes taking place both in the Bluegrass region of Kentucky and throughout the United States after 1865.

  First, passage of the Thirteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution on December 26, 1865, officially marked the beginning of Reconstruction throughout the South, giving former slaves both their freedom and the momentum to gain access to citizenship rights, including the right to vote. Federally sponsored organizations such as the Freedmen's Bureau, headed by General Oliver O. Howard, supported blacks who were struggling to adjust to freedom and their new place in society.7 Unfortunately, this political gesture, which was intended to elevate the status of former bondsmen, in no way guaranteed that whites would accept blacks as part of American society proper. In fact, throughout Kentucky, violence against freedmen increased in the rural areas around Lexington. African Americans were subjected to public displays of humiliation, sexual abuse, and mass murder by whites, most of whom refused to acknowledge that the Civil War had changed anything.

  Angry that free blacks were being supported by the Federal government and competing for and acquiring economic opportunities that had once been reserved for whites, vigilante groups formed, led in part by Confederate veterans. They armed themselves and patrolled the country roads, terrorizing blacks and driving them back to the farms of their former masters.8 On numerous occasions, African American men and women were beaten, raped, and had their ears cut off or their “skulls broken” by night riders, brutal patrollers, and a rising homegrown terrorist group known as the Ku Klux Klan.9 After the Civil Rights Act of 1866 was signed into law, white resentment burst forth as a torrent of hatred and violence against the Federal government and blacks. This resentment was punctuated by the lynching of black men who tried to assert their freedom.

  Between 1866 and 1868 white Kentuckians committed hundreds of crimes against the freedmen, in an effort to reinstate “home rule.”10 Still, some whites were willing to accept former slaves into society and give them the opportunity to become contributing members of the community. But beyond the religious motivations of the American Missionary Association, white interests in the freedmen generally had more to do with the workforce and economic needs of manufacturers and less to do with social justice and gaining the franchise. Quite plainly, white businessmen still needed the muscle of black men and women. But these whites who employed blacks also became the focus of night riders and midnight assassins, suffering property destruction, death threats, or worse by white men determined to curb the progress of the colored people.

  America Murphy may have decided to leave Camp Nelson because of overcrowding, dwindling supplies, and a lack of employment opportunities at the Federal encampment for a widow with two small children. Despite the recent policy changes, many of which resulted from the November 1864 expulsion of women and children from the camp, there were still too many people drawing on the limited services and supplies available. In 1865 the camp's population increased significantly, owing to a surge of new enlistees who brought their families with them. By the fall of 1865, there were more than 2,400 women and children at the Federal encampment. Poverty and disease quickly turned the portal of freedom into a tomb of death. Within a year, 90 percent of the inhabitants would be gone; those who survived would leave in search of better accommodations and opportunities.

  By September 1866, when Camp Nelson came under the control of the Freedmen's Bureau, there were 250 inhabitants remaining, most of them the wives and children of soldiers assigned to the Twenty-Fifth Corps, which was still stationed at the Rio Grande in Texas. Although they resided within the walls of the camp, the soldiers' families were not safe. White ruffians known as regulators began to terrorize the residents of Camp Nelson. Bent on vengeance against blacks, especially black soldiers, these former Confederate soldiers and men of similar temperament recognized the vulnerability of the women and children there and began an all-out assault on the encampment. With the absence of military force (most Federal troops had been sent to urban locations), “armed raiders descended upon the camp,” abusing and killing unarmed black men and former soldiers in front of their wives and children.11

  The Reverend Abisha Scofield, the white administrator of a refugee facility and school, was confronted by regulators, who strongly advised him to stop supporting and teaching former Kentucky slaves.12 When he refused, the regulators threatened to shoot Scofield and his family if they did not leave Kentucky immediately. Taking the threat seriously, Scofield left the state, never to return.13 This type of violent intimidation was common throughout the South, especially where former bondsmen came under the guidance and care of well-intentioned whites, as well as black teachers and missionaries. These individuals understood the power of education as a gateway to greater rights and privileges, and they prepared the former slaves to participate as full citizens of the United States through literacy. However, their success threatened illiterate and poor whites, who recognized that education gave former slaves a sense of citizenship and autonomy from white power.

  In response to this threat, white men (especially the poor) volunteered to enforce the rigid customs of slavery to undermine the efforts of missionaries throughout the South.14 Many of the white and black missionaries and teachers serving the needs of the freedmen did so under the banner of Christian service and what they believed to be the will of God. However, they soon realized the ungodly nature of human beings—specifically, whites adamantly opposed to African Americans' elevation to citizenship. The lack of protection by the Federal and local governments severely hindered their goal of educating blacks and preparing them for life beyond slavery. As a result, many missionaries and teachers were run off from the encampments, rural towns, and freedmen's schools where they
were needed.

  If not motivated to leave Camp Nelson because of conditions there, America may have decided to go because of the death of Jerry Skillman. Having lost her husband but not her will to survive, America was no doubt determined to find a place in the world where her children could take advantage of their newly gained freedom. Still, she would need some assistance negotiating the dynamics of the quickly changing world, and the lack of family members at the encampment made her vulnerable to abuse by the racial paternalism of the Freedmen's Bureau and by others who might take advantage of her situation. America may have decided to go to Lexington to seek the security of family members there. She was familiar with the city and its African American community. Former slaves and free blacks had established viable institutions during the first half of the nineteenth century, and by the beginning of Reconstruction, their organizational skills were turning blacks into a community of workers, consumers, and politically active citizens. These institutions would be an integral part of the development of African American social, political, and economic movements and the expansion of individual notions of manhood and womanhood.

  The Emancipation Proclamation, the Civil War, and the Thirteenth Amendment were dramatic developments responsible for transforming former slaves into an effective network of religious leaders, educators, and businessmen. The racial destiny of African Americans was tied directly to their ability to develop and utilize communal networks, their will to survive, their religious faith, and their ultimate goal of being recognized as human beings. African Americans maintained a degree of control over their situation that was largely undetected by white society. Nevertheless, upon reaching Lexington, America Murphy would experience “discrimination in employment and access to public accommodations” and fall victim to legalized brutality.15

  Ultimately, it was likely a combination of factors that led to America's decision to leave the deteriorating situation at Camp Nelson. Slavery had officially ended, and Reconstruction had begun as an earnest attempt to protect the newly freed from abuse and to elevate their status. America, like most former slaves, understood the importance of educating her children and the need to find work to support their full transition from slavery to freedom. Still, slavery's abolishment was not yet a reality to all Americans. Whites still ruled with impunity in most parts of the Bluegrass, and African Americans worked hard to establish a foothold in a society that many found foreign and intimidating. How were former slaves supposed to reconcile the fact that they had been treated like animals? What was freedom supposed to look like? What was it supposed to feel like? Who was going to protect their children? Whatever the psychological, social, and political effects of slavery, America's task was simple: ensure the future of her children. America's love would protect them, and her vision of Isaac's future would ultimately lead to his success.

  Although the evidence is somewhat fragmented, it is likely that by the spring of 1867, America Murphy and her two small children arrived in Lexington, seeking shelter and protection with family and friends in the ramshackle housing available. The bustling city must have been a frightening sight to six-year-old Isaac, who was accustomed to the rural surroundings of Camp Nelson and the daily routine provided by his mother. Isaac would have to learn very quickly how to navigate the urban sea of hard-and gentle-faced people pressed together in the narrow confines of the city's black community.

  A mecca for African Americans seeking to reinvent themselves as free men and women, Lexington became a stronghold for Kentucky blacks during Reconstruction. Prior to the Civil War the African American population of Lexington was 3,080, or about 30 percent of the city's almost 10,000 inhabitants. Of that number, 2,480 (80 percent) were enslaved African Americans, and 600 were free Negroes.16 Although the “malady of slavery had been with Lexington from the beginning,” prior to Reconstruction, blacks and whites in the city lived somewhat uncomfortably as neighbors.17 The households of free and enslaved African Americans were interspersed among those of whites, for whom they worked as domestic servants and as laborers in a variety of manufacturing tasks. Antebellum Lexington was a lively scene, where African Americans represented the bulk of the workforce that made modern living possible. In fact, enslaved African Americans cleared the land to make way for “Athens of the West.”18 The muscle of black men and women was responsible for the wealth enjoyed by white Kentuckians prior to Reconstruction. As historian John D. Wright explains:

  There were blacks everywhere, engaged in a great variety of tasks. In the morning, many could be seen going to the Market House where, at the various stalls, other blacks were butchering meat or selling vegetables, fruit, and flowers. Early in the morning, many of the male blacks headed for the factories, or to other tasks as bricklayers and masons, blacksmiths and carpenters, or perhaps to work on the building of the Lexington & Ohio Railroad. Others would be driving wagons or carriages, repairing streets, digging sewers, tending horses and equipment at the livery stables. Others performed the thousand and one menial tasks at the Phoenix Hotel and many other inns and taverns. Domestic servants in hundreds of residences performed innumerable tasks to keep the daily routine operating successfully.19

  Clearly, the institution of slavery, especially in the city of Lexington, had produced a dependency on blacks. During Reconstruction, most of the South would continue to rely on blacks' service and labor in an array of occupations. This would prove important for both America and Isaac.

  By 1867, African Americans were clustered in former slave housing in the back alleys of Lexington and crammed into the limited accommodations available along railroads, under bridges, near dank cemeteries, and in the makeshift hamlets on the edge of town.20 The influx of freedmen and their families created a tremendous demand for low-cost housing. Housing projects sponsored and built by Lexington's political elite were virtually thrown up on the edge of the city. Attorney John A. Prall created Pralltown southwest of the city center between Colfax and Prall Streets and South Limestone Street and the railroad tracks; George B. Kinkead created Kinkeadtown out of low-lying land located between Maple and Ohio Streets and Fourth and Fifth Streets; Bruce's Addition was created by wealthy hemp manufacturer William W. Bruce on land near his rope factory between Seventh Street and the city limits; and Goodloetown was established by the editor of the Kentucky Statesman, William Cassius Goodloe,21 on a plot of land located north of East Main Street and Midland down to Third Street.22 On these poor-quality, low-lying lands surrounding the city, opportunists and philanthropists catered to and took advantage of the swelling population of blacks migrating into the city.23 These locations became the physical spaces where new African American communities developed, dependent on the charity of white men, black benevolent societies, and “kinship relations” for survival.24 The “bottoms,” as they became known as, represented both a physical location in the city and an imagined psychological state where there was no place to go but up.

  By the spring of 1870, the number of black inhabitants had jumped 133 percent to 7,171, accounting for almost half the population. With this increase came a range of social, economic, and political changes for those in search of something resembling freedom and opportunity.25 The racially charged climate was both daunting and liberating to former slaves. Yet in the changing landscape of the nation, especially in the South, cities were the only places blacks could turn to for security. For African American residents of Lexington, this new sense of community was directly influenced by a “rigid system of segregated housing patterns” adopted by the city fathers in response to the influx of freedmen.26

  When Isaac, his little sister, and his mother arrived in Lexington, they sought out family and friends, not unlike many newly transplanted rural African Americans from the Bluegrass. The ability to locate relatives and friends in the city speaks to the active kinship network that existed during slavery and the desire of those who had been displaced by the institution to reconnect with family members. Among the masses of migrants, vagrants, and homeless jamming
the streets, America and her children found their way to the home of a friend, Cora Jordan, whom she likely met on the Tanner farm before the war.

  In Maydwell's 1867 directory of Lexington, Eli Jordan is listed as residing at Third Street and Corporate Line, near what would eventually become Goodloetown. Eli, his wife Cora, and their two daughters, twelve-year-old Lizzie and eleven-year-old Cora, welcomed America and her children into their already cramped space.27 The Jordan family depended on the patriarch to earn an income and generate a degree of security. Eli Jordan did so as a horse trainer and hostler, whether because that was the only job he could find or because he had done similar work as a slave. In the Bluegrass, horses and slaves had been the alpha and the omega of the region's economic, social, political, and cultural life before the Civil War. During Reconstruction and into the late 1890s, former slaves' influence on the horse industry would make the difference between success and failure. Most important, Eli Jordan would become one of the most influential men in the life of six-year-old Isaac.

  Born in slavery in 1822, probably somewhere near Louisville, Kentucky, Jordan was recognized as one of the premier trainers in the Bluegrass during the 1870s. He worked for James Williams and Richard Owings of Williams and Owings Farms of Lexington and for J. W. Hunt Reynolds of Fleetwood Farms in Frankfort. His success in identifying and training talented horses, as well as jockeys, was on a par with that of Ansel Williamson, the celebrated trainer at Robert Atchison Alexander's Woodburn Farm. In terms of training the black community's children to be successful, Jordan instilled in his daughters a sense of purpose that extended beyond the narrow definition of success based on material gain. In a sense, Jordan became a surrogate father to America's children, sharing his understanding of horses, the ways of white folks, and the joy of a job well done. Isaac may have been the son Eli never had, and he impressed on the boy his definition of manhood, the importance of prudence and honesty, and the benefits of being consistent in all things. A smallish child, Isaac had already suffered the loss of his father and felt his mother's absence as she tended to the day-to-day necessities of survival. He would one day reflect on his bleak beginnings and the efforts of Lexington's black community to protect him from the temptations of city life. In adopting a morally sound, if not wholly Victorian, approach to life as an adult, Isaac would become an exemplar for black boys and men who admired his manliness, success, and prudence.