e-Newsletter | September 24, 2021 |
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In anticipation of the Race & Slavery in New England Symposium, set for Monday, October 11, 2021, stories in the coming weeks will look closely at pieces in the museum's collections that relate to the topic. Click here to register for the event.
The Ambiguous End of Slavery in Massachusetts
“A Horrid Murder!” was the title of a lurid tale on page three of the Newburyport Impartial Herald on February 17, 1795. It reported the “most horrid murder” of Captain Charles Furbush of Andover, by a “negro man of his own family named Pomp.” The story reported that the captain had been struck with an ax and his throat cut. Furbush’s wife and daughter managed to escape and when they returned with help, “he (Pomp) readily confessed the fact and gave himself up.”
The Furbush murder was sensational news and widely reported across the young nation. Pomp was imprisoned in Ipswich and tried in the June session of the Supreme Judicial Court. Though “the said Pomp...says thereof he is not guilty,” the jury found otherwise, and he was sentenced to death.
Between his sentence in June and his execution on August 6, however, Pomp was visited by Jonathan Plummer, Jr., Newburyport’s eccentric poet and peddler, remembered by John Greenleaf Whittier as “a Yankee troubadour.” Though Plummer was a bit of a muck-raker, digging into lurid crime and violence to sell broadsides, he gave voice to Pomp’s belief that his treatment at the hands of his “master” had caused first mental collapse and finally uncontrollable violence.
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The Museum of Old Newbury has a significant collection of original broadsides by Jonathan Plummer about crime, death and romance. |
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Pomp was unequivocally enslaved in the Furbush household.
His labor was unpaid, or he was given far less than he was owed. He was not allowed to attend church or given the day off on Election Day, as was expected. Worse, Furbush undermined his efforts and mentally abused him, letting animals loose on fields Pomp had planted and then accusing Pomp of destroying them himself.
When Pomp reached his breaking point, “I ran away from him, but was pursued, found, brought back and severely flogged, by him.”
Pomp ran away repeatedly for over a decade, only to be brought back and beaten. He was kept locked in his room at night. The night before the murder, “I was again brought back by my master, stripped naked, tied up by both hands and unmercifully flogged. This was in the evening, and though it was late in the fall, and cold, frosty, icy weather, my master left me thus naked, and tied up, till the morning. My sufferings during the tedious hours of this lengthy night, by reason of cold and nakedness, a sore back and wounded spirits, were extremely great.”
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Pomp, desperate, bleeding and freezing, decided that Furbush should pay for his cruelty. Months later, in Ipswich prison awaiting his execution, Pomp notes that at least “it was the last time that Furbush ever struck me.”
The Massachusetts Historical Society holds a bill of sale from John Mory to David Stoddard Greenough for a five-year-old boy named Dick, still enslaved in 1785. The caption reads, “while slavery was officially ended in the state by 1785, sales of enslaved people continued until around 1790, and indentured servants were sold in the same manner.”
There is much more research to be done on the lives of formerly enslaved residents of Essex County in the complicated decades following the judicial abolition of slavery in Massachusetts.
Two Newburyport men, both also named Pomp (a common name, also recorded as Pompy or Pompey), served in the Continental Army during the American Revolution.
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Black List, 1793, with Pomp Fuller's name. From the collections of the Museum of Old Newbury. |
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Pomp Jackson, enslaved by Jonathan Jackson, was emancipated after a payment of five shillings in 1776 and enlisted in the Continental Army. He served as a fifer for the duration of the war, and later settled in Andover, near a place known as Pomp’s Pond.
Pomp Fuller returned to Newburyport after the war and died here in September 1794, age 35. He is buried in Old Hill Burying Ground.
Other Black Newburyporters are listed as living with the families that formerly enslaved them until their deaths.
Though there is no record of a person kept against their will in Newburyport after 1790, the actions of the selectmen of Andover when Pomp left the Furbush household suggest that slavery was still alive and well in Essex County in 1795.
Note: One of the examples of the cruelty of Captain Furbush in Pomp’s narrative is that he prevented Pomp from enjoying traditional Election Day celebrations.
Editor's note: Inconsistencies in spelling of names, etc., are from the historical record and not a typographical error.
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Woman on the MOON
The Haunted Cabinet of Caroline Cushing...a blog by Bethany Groff Dorau
Every profession has it – the question or comment that is repeated so often as to become a punch line.
To artists: “Will you design my tattoo?”
To bartenders: “Make me something YOU like.”
To brewers: “My party/event/club will be excellent exposure for your product!”
And to museum people: “Is this place haunted?”
I’ll share a secret. This place is haunted. Or, depending on who I’m talking to, this place is definitely not haunted. You see, there is no better way to lose all credibility with non-believers than to admit to the ethereal activities of your museum. But I have yet to be more than one cocktail into a gathering of my peers before someone tells a story where something inexplicable or serendipitous happens. And so, most of us live in the middle space, convinced by our own experience that there are deeper forces at work in our relationships with the corporeally dead, and simultaneously convinced that there is a rational, reasonable explanation for everything.
I have become comfortable in this space, believing that rather than gossamer spirits that survive the body, there is space that people occupy in the universe while they are alive that sometimes retains the shape of them when they’re gone. Dogged research can find this space, but luck, perhaps even fate, seems to play a role.
There are just too many coincidences. As my colleague Sharon often reminds me, “some people want to be found.” Perhaps this is our brain’s complex analysis of the way that people saved certain things. Perhaps this is an experience of deep grief or joy that became imprinted into a family system, a subconscious inheritance.
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Caroline Elizabeth (Wilde) Cushing (1802-1832) |
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In the parlor of the Cushing House there is a cabinet, unassuming at first glance.
It was made by (or for) Caleb Cushing after the death of his wife, Caroline Elizabeth (Wilde) Cushing, who died at thirty years old. Cushing never remarried and had no children, and this cabinet contained all the mementos of what was, by most accounts, the great and only love of his life.
It holds her diaries, handkerchiefs, fans, calling cards, her portrait, necklaces, pens, all arranged in meticulous order.
I have a physical reaction to this cabinet.
My throat tightens, my skin goes cold, other senses are heightened. The cabinet is designed to keep this beloved woman alive in some way, to preserve her memory. It is heartbreaking and intimate. There is no ectoplasm, no vapor, but it is haunted nonetheless by the curated grief of her husband.
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I taught an evening history class at a local high school several years ago. We were using a late 18th century house, about to be substantially renovated, as a classroom and the subject of our study. All planning permissions had been granted, all reviews complete, so there was no bar to the work. The house was worn, chopped up, confusing and dark. It had lived many lives, and it was my job to lead the students through an exploration of who and how and why.
The parade of sweat-panted teenagers, chewing on their hoodie strings, wandered inside the dark hall, a little grossed out and confused (except the one – there’s always one – who thought it was the coolest thing she had ever seen). One girl exclaimed, “this place is so haunted.” Another jumped when we rounded the corner into the dark kitchen. “Something moved!” she shrieked. A young man bravely offered “I’ll bet tons of people were murdered here.” I sighed, the house sighed, and then we got to work. We looked at nails, four different generations of nail heads in one room.
We examined a set kettle, a huge iron bowl with a firebox underneath, a massive technological advancement that allowed quantities of hot water to be available on demand (sort of – you still had to make a fire and wait). We pulled mouse nests apart and read half-shredded missionary tracts. We did a deep dive into the life of the builder and first owner of the house, Lemuel Noyes. We found his name on receipts for supplies for the Newbury men fighting with George Washington. I dragged in Revolutionary War specialists who deciphered receipts and preservation carpenters who taught the students to “see” the tool that made a mark on a board. Pit saws, adz, hand planes and chisels revealed themselves. We found bottles and pottery sherds in a space that once held an attached privy. We found the birth record of Lemuel’s wife, Sarah (Brown) Noyes, noted that their youngest son, his father’s namesake, died at age two, and explored her family’s involvement in the Salem Witch Trials.
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Lemuel Noyes House, circa1783, Byfield, Mass. |
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One night, near the end of the semester, I arranged for a special field trip. It was dark, late October, and a full moon. The students brought flashlights and sturdy shoes and then were somewhat surprised to find that we were going out for ice cream. Thus fortified, we made our way back to the Byfield Burying Ground and tramped through the leaves to stand at the grave of Lemuel and Sarah Noyes. Flashlights (okay, iPhones) were trained en masse on the stone, its inscription read in hushed tones. Not one student suggested the place was “haunted.” They were visiting someone they knew.
I get the thrill of believing in semi-sheer apparitions floating down the hall. I really do. For most of us, it is impossible to imagine that we disappear entirely from the world when we die. Energy, spirit, soul, whatever you call it, surely remains? Maybe it does. Who am I to say?
What I know for sure, however, is that love, grief, and hope remain, and the greatest of these is love. And this is why I can introduce you to the spirit of Caroline Cushing.
Just open the cabinet.
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The cabinet in its unassuming corner. Amelia and Robert Asplund in 2010 when they presented Caroline Cushing's memento mori to the museum. Amelia is a collateral descendant of Caroline Wilde Cushing. Letters and other treasures in Caroline's cabinet. From the collections of the Museum of Olc Newbury. |
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Learn about upcoming programs, register, find Zoom links and catch up on previous presentations here. All of our virtual programs are free, however donations are gratefully accepted to help defray speaker fees.
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Race & Slavery in New England Symposium
In-Person or Virtual Event
Writers and historians will bring various views and expertise to a scrutiny of New England's deep involvement in slavery. Engage in-person (or virtually) with complex issues of race and slavery in New England, from colonial times to just after the Civil War.
This is an in-person event. On-site ticket limit: 200.
Made possible by the generous support of The Governor's Academy, First Religious Society, Eastern Bank, Historic New England and Newburyport Bank.
• For admittance to the in-person symposium, proof of vaccination and a photo ID must be presented at the on-site registration table, and in-person attendees are required to wear masks indoors. Masks will be available.
• The Governor's Academy reserves the right to cancel the event, at its discretion, for reasons of health & safety concerning the coronavirus.
Fees include all presentations, lunch (with vegetarian/non-vegetarian, vegan and gluten-free options), hot and cold refreshments throughout the day and access to all recordings.
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The Zealy Daguerreotypes: Research, Writing and Collaboration
Virtual Event
Ilisa Barbash, curator of visual anthropology at Harvard’s Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, will discuss the research and work behind the production of the book To Make Their Own Way in the World: The Enduring Legacy of the Zealy Daguerreotypes (Aperture/Peabody Museum Press 2020), which features essays by prominent scholars from the disciplines of history, anthropology, art history and American studies.
The book is a profound consideration of some of the most challenging images in the history of photography: 15 daguerreotypes of Alfred, Delia, Drana, Fassena, Jack, Jem and Renty—men and women of African descent who were enslaved in South Carolina. Made in 1850 by photographer Joseph T. Zealy for Harvard professor Louis Agassiz, the daguerreotypes were rediscovered at the Peabody Museum in 1976. This talk will highlight some of its various topics, including the identities of the seven people depicted in the daguerreotypes, the close relationship between photography and race in the 19th century, and the ways contemporary artists have used the daguerreotypes to critique institutional racism in the 20th and 21st centuries.
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Puzzle Me This...
Tracy Cellarette
Patrick Tracy (1711-1789) emigrated from Wexford, Ireland to Newburyport and worked as a sailor on locally built ships. Eventually he became a wealthy merchant, a founder of St. Paul’s church, and a signer of the petition to separate Newburyport from Newbury. He most likely acquired this portable cellarette, or liquor chest, while he was still active in the merchant service.
These chests were taken aboard sailing vessels by shipmasters and stored in their quarters. This one, with an engraved brass label, reading Patrick Tracy of Newburyport, was made in the mid-1700s and contains eight glass bottles in divided compartments, each topped with a three-part pewter stopper bearing English hallmarks. (Image credit: Bob Watts)
From the collections of the Museum of Old Newbury.
Click on image to begin.
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Something is Always Cooking at the Museum
Nothing says Autumn like a rich, flavorful stew. In addition to the suggested vegetables, M.R. Scampington's recipe can include just about anything you have in your chill chest. In fact, it's a terrific way to use up the last of the season's garden bounty, too.
Three Stir Stew
1 28-ounce can crushed or puréed tomato
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon beef boullion
2/3 cups dry red wine
2 cups beef broth, salt free
1/2 cup instant tapioca
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon each onion powder, garlic powder, dried oregano, dried basil, dried parsley
2 teaspoons coarse salt
1 teaspoon coarse ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
2 bay leaves
3 pounds chuck, cut into 3/4-inch cubes and trimmed of all fat and sinew
4-5 chopped carrots
3-4 chopped celery stalks
1 large onion, chopped
1/2 box frozen peas
1/2 box frozen corn
Preheat over to 325ºF. In a 5-6 quart Dutch oven, mix all ingredients to bay leaves, stirring well. Chop carrots, celery and onion to appropriate bite sizes, but not too small as to cause them to overcook. Add to Dutch oven and stir. Cut chuck into 3/4-inch cubes and add to Dutch oven. Give one more stir. Cover and place on middle rack in oven. Cook for approximately 3 hours. Take out and stir after 1 hour. Take out and stir after hour 2. Add peas and corn and stir. Check after another 45 minutes. Take out and stir one last time. If meat is tender you are ready to serve. If not, return to oven for last 15 minutes. Makes 2 or more quarts.
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During this difficult period of COVID-19, we rely on your support more than ever. We continue to develop new, online programs for you to enjoy and keep us connected and look forward to in-person events as protocols for safety loosen. We hope, if you are able, that you will consider a donation to the museum. Thank you for your continued support.
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Museum of Old Newbury
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