George Fortman
From:
Indiana
Ex-Slave Stories
District 5
Vanderburgh County
Lauana Creel
INDIANS MADE SLAVES AMONG THE NEGROES.
INTERVIEWS WITH GEORGE FORTMAN
Cor. Bellemeade Ave. and Garvin St.
Evansville, Indiana, and other interested citizens
"The story of my life, I will tell to you with sincerest respect to all
and love to many, although reviewing the dark trail of my childhood and
early youth causes me great pain." So spoke George Fortman, an aged man
and former slave, although the history of his life reveals that no Negro
blood runs through his veins.
"My story necessarily begins by relating events which occurred in 1838,
when hundreds of Indians were rounded up like cattle and driven away
from the valley of the Wabash. It is a well known fact recorded in the
histories of Indiana that the long journey from the beautiful Wabash
Valley was a horrible experience for the fleeing Indians, but I have the
tradition as relating to my own family, and from this enforced flight
ensued the tragedy of my birth."
The aged ex-slave reviews tradition. "My two ancestors, John Hawk, a
Blackhawk Indian brave, and Racheal, a Chackatau maiden had made
themselves a home such as only Indians know, understand and enjoy. He
was a hunter and a fighter but had professed faith in Christ through the
influence of the missionaries. My greatgrandmother passed the facts on
to her children and they have been handed down for four generations. I,
in turn, have given the traditions to my children and grandchildren.
"No more peaceful home had ever offered itself to the red man than the
beautiful valley of the Wabash river. Giant elms, sycamores and maple
trees bordered the stream while the fertile valley was traversed with
creeks and rills, furnishing water in abundance for use of the Indian
campers.
"The Indians and the white settlers in the valley transacted business
with each other and were friendly towards each other, as I have been
told by my mother, Eliza, and my grandmother, Courtney Hawk.
"The missionaries often called the Indian families together for the
purpose of teaching them and the Indians had been invited, prior to
being driven from the valley, to a sort of festival in the woods. They
had prepared much food for the occasion. The braves had gone on a long
hunt to provide meat and the squaws had prepared much corn and other
grain to be used at the feast. All the tribes had been invited to a
council and the poor people were happy, not knowing they were being
deceived.
"The decoy worked, for while the Indians were worshiping God the meeting
was rudely interrupted by orders of the Governor of the State. The
Governor, whose duty it was to give protection to the poor souls,
caused them to be taken captives and driven away at the point of swords
and guns.
"In vain, my grandmother said, the Indians prayed to be let return to
their homes. Instead of being given their liberty, some several hundred
horses and ponies were captured to be used in transporting the Indians
away from the valley. Many of the aged Indians and many innocent
children died on the long journey and traditional stories speak of that
journey as the 'trail of death.'"
"After long weeks of flight, when the homes of the Indians had been
reduced to ashes, the long trail still carried them away from their
beautiful valley. My greatgrandfather and his squaw became acquainted
with a party of Indians that were going to the canebrakes of Alabama.
The pilgrims were not well fed or well clothed and they were glad to
travel towards the south, believing the climate would be favorable to
their health.
"After a long and dreary journey, the Indians reached Alabama. Rachael
had her youngest papoose strapped on to her back while John had cared
for the larger child, Lucy. Sometimes she had walked beside her father
but often she had become weary or sleepy and he had carried her many
miles of the journey, besides the weight of blankets and food. An older
daughter, Courtney, also accompanied her parents.
"When they neared the cane lands they heard the songs of Negro slaves as
they toiled in the cane. Soon they were in sight of the slave quarters
of Patent George's plantation. The Negroes made the Indians welcome and
the slave dealer allowed them to occupy the cane house; thus the Indians
became slaves of Patent George.
"Worn out from his long journey John Hawk became too ill to work in the
sugar cane. The kindly-disposed Negroes helped care for the sick man but
he lived only a few months. Rachel and her two children remained on the
plantation, working with the other slaves. She had nowhere to go. No
home to call her own. She had automatically become a slave. Her
children had become chattel.
"So passed a year away, then unhappiness came to the Indian mother, for
her daughter, Courtney, became the mother of young Master Ford George's
child. The parents called the little half-breed "Eliza" and were very
fond of her. The widow of John Hawk became the mother of Patent George's
son, Patent Junior.
"The tradition of the family states that in spite of these irregular
occurrences the people at the George's southern plantation were
prosperous, happy, and lived in peace each with the others. Patent
George wearied of the Southern climate and brought his slaves into
Kentucky where their ability and strength would amass a fortune for the
master in the iron ore regions of Kentucky.
"With the wagon trains of Patent and Ford George came Rachel Hawk and
her daughters, Courtney, Lucy and Rachel. Rachel died on the journey
from Alabama but the remaining full blooded Indians entered Kentucky as
slaves.
"The slave men soon became skilled workers in the Hillman Rolling Mills.
Mr. Trigg was owner of the vast iron works called the "Chimneys" in the
region, but listed as the Hillman, Dixon, Boyer, Kelley and Lyons
Furnaces. For more than a half century these chimneys smoked as the most
valuable development in the western area of Kentucky. Operated in 1810,
these furnaces had refined iron ore to supply the United States Navy
with cannon balls and grape shot, and the iron smelting industry
continued until after the close of the Civil War.
"No slaves were beaten at the George's plantation and old Mistress
Hester Lam allowed no slave to be sold. She was a devoted friend to all.
"As Eliza George, daughter of Ford George and Courtney Hawk, grew into
young womanhood the young master Ford George went oftener and oftener to
social functions. He was admired for his skill with firearms and for
his horsemanship. While Courtney and his child remained at the
plantation Ford enjoyed the companship of the beautiful women of the
vicinity. At last he brought home the beautiful Loraine, his young
bride. Courtney was stoical as only an Indian can be. She showed no hurt
but helped Mistress Hester and Mistress Loraine with the house work."
Here George Fortman paused to let his blinded eyes look back into the
long ago. Then he again continued with his story of the dark trail.
"Mistress Loraine became mother of two sons and a daughter and the big
white two-story house facing the Cumberland River at Smith Landing,
Kentucky, became a place of laughter and happy occasions, so my mother
told me many times.
"Suddenly sorrow settled down over the home and the laughter turned into
wailing, for Ford George's body was found pierced through the heart and
the half-breed, Eliza, was nowhere to be found.
"The young master's body lay in state many days. Friends and neighbors
came bringing flowers. His mother, bowed with grief, looked on the still
face of her son and understood--understood why death had come and why
Eliza had gone away.
"The beautiful home on the Cumberland river with its more than 600 acres
of productive land was put into the hands of an administrator of estates
to be readjusted in the interest of the George heirs. It was only then
Mistress Hester went to Aunt Lucy and demanded of her to tell where
Eliza could be found.
'She has gone to Alabama, Ole Mistus', said Aunt Lucy, 'Eliza was scared
to stay here.' A party of searchers were sent out to look for Eliza.
They found her secreted in a cane brake in the low lands of Alabama
nursing her baby boy at her breast. They took Eliza and the baby back to
Kentucky. I am that baby, that child of unsatisfactory birth."
The face of George Fortman registered sorrow and pain, it had been hard
for him to retell the story of the dark road to strange ears.
"My white uncles had told Mistress Hester that if Eliza brought me back
they were going to build a fire and put me in it, my birth was so
unsatisfactory to all of them, but Mistress Hester always did what she
believed was right and I was brought up by my own mother.
"We lived in a cabin at the slave quarters and mother worked in the
broom cane. Mistress Hester named me Ford George, in derision, but
remained my friend. She was never angry with my mother. She knew a slave
had to submit to her master and besides Eliza did not know she was
Master Ford George's daughter."
The truth had been told at last. The master was both the father of Eliza
and the father of Eliza's son.
"Mistress Hester believed I would be feeble either in mind or body
because of my unsatisfactory birth, but I developed as other children
did and was well treated by Mistress Hester, Mistress Lorainne and her
children.
"Master Patent George died and Mistress Hester married Mr. Lam, while
slaves kept working at the rolling mills and amassing greater wealth for
the George families.
"Five years before the outbreak of the Civil War Mistress Hester called
all the slaves together and gave us our freedom. Courtney, my
grandmother, kept house for Mistress Lorainne and wanted to stay on, so
I too was kept at the George home. There was a sincere friendship as
great as the tie of blood between the white family and the slaves. My
mother married a negro ex-slave of Ford George and bore children for
him. Her health failed and when Mistress Puss, the only daughter of
Mistress Lorainne, learned she was ill she persuaded the Negro man to
sell his property and bring Eliza back to live with her."
[TR: in following section the name George 'Fordman' is used twice.]
"Why are you called George Fordman when your name is Ford George?" was
the question asked the old man.
"Then the Freedsmen started teaching school in Kentucky the census taker
called to enlist me as a pupil. 'What do you call this child?' he asked
Mistress Lorainne. 'We call him the Little Captain because he carried
himself like a soldier,' said Mistress Lorainne. 'He is the son of my
husband and a slave woman but we are rearing him.' Mistress Lorainne
told the stranger that I had been named Ford George in derision and he
suggested she list me in the census as George Fordsman, which she did,
but she never allowed me to attend the Freedmen's School, desiring to
keep me with her own children and let me be taught at home. My mother's
half brother, Patent George allowed his name to be reversed to George
Patent when he enlisted in the Union Service at the outbreak of the
Civil War."
Some customs prevalent in the earlier days were described by George
Fordman. "It was customary to conduct a funeral differently than it is
conducted now," he said. "I remember I was only six years old when old
Mistress Hester Lam passed on to her eternal rest. She was kept out of
her grave several days in order to allow time for the relatives, friends
and ex-slaves to be notified of her death.
"The house and yard were full of grieving friends. Finally the lengthy
procession started to the graveyard. Within the George's parlors there
had been Bible passages read, prayers offered up and hymns sung, now the
casket was placed in a wagon drawn by two horses. The casket was covered
with flowers while the family and friends rode in ox carts, horse-drawn
wagons, horseback, and with still many on foot they made their way
towards the river.
"When we reached the river there were many canoes busy putting the
people across, besides the ferry boat was in use to ferry vehicles over
the stream. The ex-slaves were crying and praying and telling how good
granny had been to all of them and explaining how they knew she had gone
straight to Heaven, because she was so kind--and a Christian. There were
not nearly enough boats to take the crowd across if they crossed back
and forth all day, so my mother, Eliza, improvised a boat or 'gunnel',
as the craft was called, by placing a wooden soap box on top of a long
pole, then she pulled off her shoes and, taking two of us small children
in her arms, she paddled with her feet and put us safely across the
stream. We crossed directly above Iaka, Livingston county, three miles
below Grand River.
"At the burying ground a great crowd had assembled from the neighborhood
across the river and there were more songs and prayers and much weeping.
The casket was let down into the grave without the lid being put on and
everybody walked up and looked into the grave at the face of the dead
woman. They called it the 'last look' and everybody dropped flowers on
Mistress Hester as they passed by. A man then went down and nailed on
the lid and the earth was thrown in with shovels. The ex-slaves filled
in the grave, taking turns with the shovel. Some of the men had worked
at the smelting furnaces so long that their hands were twisted and
hardened from contact with the heat. Their shoulders were warped and
their bodies twisted but they were strong as iron men from their years
of toil. When the funeral was over mother put us across the river on the
gunnel and we went home, all missing Mistress Hester.
"My cousin worked at Princeton, Kentucky, making shoes. He had never
been notified that he was free by the kind emancipation Mrs. Hester had
given to her slaves, and he came loaded with money to give to his white
folks. Mistress Lorainne told him it was his own money to keep or to
use, as he had been a free man several months.
"As our people, white and black and Indians, sat talking they related
how they had been warned of approaching trouble. Jack said the dogs had
been howling around the place for many nights and that always presaged a
death in the family. Jack had been compelled to take off his shoes and
turn them soles up near the hearth to prevent the howling of the dogs.
Uncle Robert told how he believed some of Mistress Hester's enemies had
planted a shrub near her door and planted it with a curse so that when
the shrub bloomed the old woman passed away. Then another man told how a
friend had been seen carrying a spade into his cousin's cabin and the
cousin had said, 'Daniel, what foh you brung that weapon into by [TR:
my?] cabin? That very spade will dig my grave,' and sure enough the
cousin had died and the same spade had been used in digging his grave.
"How my childish nature quailed at hearing the superstitions discussed,
I cannot explain. I have never believed in witchcraft nor spells, but I
remember my Indian grandmother predicted a long, cold winter when she
noticed the pelts of the coons and other furred creatures were
exceedingly heavy. When the breastbones of the fowls were strong and
hard to sever with the knife it was a sign of a hard, cold and snowy
winter. Another superstition was this: 'A green winter, a new
graveyard--a white winter, a green graveyard.'"
George Fortman relates how, when he accompanied two of his cousins into
the lowlands--there were very many Katy-dids in the trees--their voices
formed a nerve-racking orchestra and his cousin told him to tiptoe to
the trees and touch each tree with the tips of his fingers. This he did,
and for the rest of the day there was quiet in the forest.
"More than any other superstition entertained by the slave Negroes, the
most harmful was the belief on conjurors. One old Negro woman boiled a
bunch of leaves in an iron pot, boiled it with a curse and scattered the
tea therein brewed, and firmly believed she was bringing destruction to
her enemies. 'Wherever that tea is poured there will be toil and
troubles,' said the old woman.
"The religion of many slaves was mostly superstition. They feared to
break the Sabbath, feared to violate any of the Commandments, believing
that the wrath of God would follow immediately, blasting their lives.
"Things changed at the George homestead as they change everywhere," said
George Fortman. "When the Civil War broke out many slaves enlisted in
hopes of receiving freedom. The George Negroes were already free but
many thought it their duty to enlist and fight for the emancipation of
their fellow slaves. My mother took her family and moved away from the
plantation and worked in the broom cane. Soon she discovered she could
not make enough to rear her children and we were turned over to the
court to be bound out.
"I was bound out to David Varnell in Livingston County by order of Judge
Busch and I stayed there until I was fifteen years of age. My sister
learned that I was unhappy there and wanted to see my mother, so she
influenced James Wilson to take me into his home. Soon goodhearted Jimmy
Wilson took me to see Mother and I went often to see her."
Sometimes George would become stubborn and hard to control and then Mr.
Wilson administered chastisement. His wife could not bear to have the
boy punished. 'Don't hit him, Jimmie, don't kick him,' would say the
good Scotch woman, who was childless. 'If he does not obey me I will
whip him,' James Wilson would answer. So the boy learned the lesson of
obedience from the old couple and learned many lessons in thrift through
their examples.
"In 1883 I left the Wilson home and began working and trying to save
some money. River trade was prosperous and I became a 'Roustabout'. The
life of the roustabout varied some with the habits of the roustabout and
the disposition of the mate. We played cards, shot dice and talked to
the girls who always met the boats. The 'Whistling Coon' was a popular
song with the boatmen and one version of 'Dixie Land'. One song we often
sang when near a port was worded 'Hear the trumpet Sound'--
Hear the trumpet sound,
Stand up and don't sit down,
Keep steppin' 'round and 'round,
Come jine this elegant band.
If you don't step up and jine the bout,
Old Missus sure will fine it out,
She'll chop you in the head wid a golen ax,
You never will have to pay da tax,
Come jine the roust-a-bout band."
From roust-a-bout George became a cabin boy, cook, pilot, and held a
number of positions on boats, plowing different streams. There was much
wild game to be had and the hunting season was always open. He also
remembers many wolves, wild turkeys, catamounts and deer in abundance
near the Grand River. "Pet deer loafed around the milking pens and ate
the feed from the mangers" said he.
George Fortman is a professor of faith in Christ. He was baptized in
Concord Lake, seven miles from Clarksville, Tennessee, became a member
of the Pleasant Greene Church at Callwell, Kentucky and later a member
of the Liberty Baptist Church at Evansville.
"I have always kept in touch with my white folks, the George family,"
said the man, now feeble and blind. "Four years ago Mistress Puss died
and I was sent for but was not well enough to make the trip home."
Too young to fight in the Civil War, George was among those who watched
the work go on. "I lived at Smiths Landing and remember the battle at
Fort Donnelson. It was twelve miles away and a long cinder walk reached
from the fort for nearly thirty miles. The cinders were brought from the
iron ore mills and my mother and I have walked the length of it many
times." Still reviewing the long, dark trail he continued. "Boatloads of
soldiers passed Smith's Landing by day and night and the reports of
cannon could be heard when battles were fought. We children collected
Munnie balls near the fort for a long time after the war."
Although the George family never sold slaves or separated Negro
families, George Fortman has seen many boats loaded with slaves on the
way to slave marts. Some of the George Negroes were employed as pilots
on the boats. He also remembers slave sales where Negroes were auctioned
by auctioneers, the Negroes stripped of clothes to exhibit their
physique.
"I have always been befriended by three races of people, the Caucassian,
the African, and the Negro," declares George Fortman. "I have worked as
a farmer, a river man, and been employed by the Illinois Central
Railroad Company and in every position I have held I have made loyal
friends of my fellow workmen." One friend, treasured in the memory of
the aged ex-slave is Ollie James, who once defended George in court.
George Fortman has friends at Dauson Springs, Grayson Springs, and other
Kentucky resorts. He has been a citizen of Evansville for thirty-five
years and has had business connections here for sixty-two years. He
janitored for eleven years for the Lockyear Business College, but his
days of usefulness are over. He now occupies a room at Bellemeade Ave.
and Garvin St. and his only exercise consists of a stroll over to the
Lincoln High School. There he enjoys listening to the voices of the
pupils as they play about the campus. "They are free", he rejoices.
"They can build their own destinies, they did not arrive in this life by
births of unsatisfactory circumstances. They have the world before them
and my grandsons and granddaughters are among them."
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