THE MAN ON THE WASH TUB


“Never did the word of God appear more precious to any one than it did to Jacob [Jack Hodges.] In reply to my questions respecting his interest in Scriptures, he said, “Master, if you will believe me, I have come into my cell at night, and setting my supper on my cot, I have taken my Bible and become so much engaged in reading and meditating upon its truths, that I wholly forgot my meal, till I saw it untouched in the morning.”- Rev. Ansel Doane Eddy, Black Jacob 1842

    “I asked Freeman if he could read.”  local merchant Ira Curtis told the jury. “He said he could. Rev. Austin a clergyman of this village came into the cell where we were. He took up a testament that was laying there, opened it, and handed it to Freeman and asked him to read it. He undertook to do so, and commenced by repeating the words, “O’ Lord Jesus Christ Almighty, mercy Moses……” and continued in that way, but sometimes using words that I could not understand and which I doubt were to be found in any language… I took the book from his hand and said “You do not read right.” He replied that he did. I said again “You cannot read.” He said “Yes I can.” I said “you don’t read right. He said “Yes I do.”
     
   “Then I asked him again why he killed them;” Rev. John M. Austin testified, ”whether he thought it right to kill an innocent child? I understood from his gestures in reply, that he was in a labyrinth from which he was incapable of extricating himself.”

Interview with William Freeman in his Auburn Jail cell:

By Dr. Sylvester Willard

Q. Bill, did you kill them?
A. Yes
Q. What did you kill them with?
A. Well, I killed them with a butcher knife.
Q. Where did you get your knife?
A. Why, I bought it- I bought two.
Q. What did you give for them?
A. I gave one and six pence for one.
Q. Can you tell me the whole story?
A. I took the knife and carried it home to my room and hid it. Well, I let it lie there until I got ready to go out and kill. I went upstairs and threw it out the window, so they shouldn’t see me when I went downstairs. I went downstairs, myself, and went round and got my things and then went off south.
Q. Where’d you go off to?
A. I went up to Van Nest’s.
Q. What did you go there for?
A. I went there to kill them.
Q. What did you do when you first went there?
A.  I saw a light in the house and didn’t go in.
Q. How long did you stay outside the house?
A. I stayed a little while.
Q. What did you do then?
A. I went in the house. I saw Mr. Van Nest and stabbed him.
Q. Did you kill him?
  1. Yes.

    The literacy question remains for both Jack Hodges and William Freeman. Unlike the author, Austin Reed, it is doubtful either man could read or write. For Freeman I think it was a certainty that he could not. Jack, I’ll give the benefit of the doubt. There is a remote possibility that Hodges learned to read in prison. As with all indigenous peoples and slaves, literacy and education of the poor, convicts, and all people of color, were routinely withheld by white authorities; weaponized as a way of marginalizing and controlling large swaths of the population. The so-called “rule of law” is always codified in specific language, ofttimes purposefully unintelligible. Today the English language, and its legal intricacies, are routinely used against the poor and foreign immigrants, as a way of confusing the individual, speeding up incarceration and deportation. It’s right there in black and white.  

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

EPILOGUE

“…the history of any country, presented as the history of a family, conceals fierce conflicts of interest….” Howard Zinn, A People’s History 1980 “There seems to be something willful, something almost luxurious in your desire to feel ashamed of the past.” -Duncan Campbell Scott, Conversations With a Dead Man by Mark Abley 2013      A hundred years after the fact, on the so-called “civilized” east coast of 1879, the Sullivan/Clinton Expedition was considered a patriotic, ancient military campaign by the time General Tecumseh Sherman took the platform to give his memorial speech; in front of the adoring centennial crowd in upstate New York. After the Civil War, military men and armchair historians enjoyed a sort of heyday, bringing the musket, tomahawk and scalping knife back into parlors and auditoriums of genteel society. Men like Rev. Charles Rockwell, Sam Eager and James Quinlan, joined more scholarly, yet flawed, intellects like William L. Stone and F...
Read more

COUNTING CHRISTIAN TEARS

“The thought, therefore, that Wisner might be torn to pieces while yet alive seemed to him even more savage cruelty. Under the distressing circumstances and considerations, the chief argued with himself that true humanity required a speedy termination of his sufferings. Having formed this conclusion, the next point was to compass his death without inflicting additional tortures upon his feelings. With this in view, he engaged Wisner in conversation and while diverting his attention struck him in an instant and unperceived with his hatchet.” -The Wisners in America by G. Franklin Wisner 1918      This particular portrait of Joseph Brant (Thayendanega) was not painted by Charles Wilson Peale, but a member of his very talented family in the style of their father’s original. In 2005, the copy hung in the dining room of the residence of then U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations, John Bolton. Poor Joseph Brant. He remained a silent witness to the white man...
Read more

THE DISSOLUTE SEAMAN

“Mrs. Teed was bound to Jack by a chain which could not be dissolved. That son, whom she has brought to prove the innocence of her husband, was put to bed with the assassin of her uncle.”- Martin Van Buren to the jury.     “I’m starting to wonder if James Teed might not have gone from some otherwise low tide indifference (or pleasure) with Anak-Jack clam diggin’ with ex- Hanna to facilitating a double elimination (Dick & fall guy Jack),(also pleasure), lubed and fueled by the still house formaldehyde? Power and dignity may be taller boots indeed, but they seem to sink even deeper into their own shit. Keep it comin’! I’ll winch my ass out when I need to!” This quote is courtesy of my good friend, and loyal reader, artist Ted Rosenthal. Every morning he reads the blog and responds with his helpful exegesis. It’s an invaluable gift that reminds me that at least one person is reading. You think art is a lonely game? Try writing a fucking book.     ...
Read more