It Happened Here--In Precarious Positions

From a distance it might seem like a drama played out in the deep South in the days following Reconstruction. A black man waits in fear with manacled wrists, as a mob gathers demanding he be turned over to them. The officer and his deputies try to force their way through the mob with the man to the judge's office. The black man is battered and bruised as he is pulled first one way, than another as the mob tries to pull him from the officers. They succeed, wresting him away and throwing him in a small skiff to carry him from Troy to West Troy, (now Watervliet.) But the telegraph is faster than the boat, and when they arrive the police are waiting there to re-arrest the man. As a large part of the mob pours across the river in a ferry boat and various commandeered watercraft, the police and their prisoner are holed up in a judge's office on Broadway. Again the scene is repeated with the mob storming the building, this time ignoring shots fired into the crowd by unnerved officers. They retake the black man, now dazed and bleeding and he is thrown into the back of a wagon and spirited away to Schenectady. Spirited away—to what?  A tree, a rope, and a lynching?       No—to Freedom!
 

Charles Nalle was born into slavery in Culpepper Virginia about 1821. His mother, Lucy, was a light skinned mulatto girl and his father was, officially, unknown, but generally known to be Peter Hansbrough, a wealthy planter whose plantation was near the plantation where Charles' mother was enslaved. The year Charles was born Hansbrough bought Lucy and her children when his neighbor, her owner, died. Charles was brought up as house slave and coachman, assigned to drive his master's carriage and care for his horses. Hansborough gave Charles to his son, Blucher Hansborough, and Charles continued as his half-brother's coachman. Charles married Catherine “Kitty” Simms who lived on the nearby Thom's planation. Slaves were often encouraged to marry, but forced to live apart in nearby plantations. This gave plantation owners an important lever over their slaves, as it gave masters the power to permit or restrict the contact slaves had with their spouses and families, dependent on their good behavior.

Though Nalle was treated better than many slaves – certainly much better than field hands in the deep south, the insecurity and inhumanity of his everyday life weighed heavily on him. Though Blucher Hansborough promised never to sell him, one day following a major setback of a fire that destroyed a barn containing most of the plantation's wheat harvest Charles and a friend were set upon by local whites, at the behest of Blucher. Beaten and chained together with two field hands they were transported to Richmond's slave market to be sold. Only a lack of interest on the part of bidders saved Nalle and his companion from being sold away. (A glut of slaves in the marketplace and tight money prevented Nalle and his friend from the fate of the two field hands who were auctioned off, never to see their homes and families again.) Neither Charles nor his friend commanded the minimum asking price Hansborough required, and they were returned home.

A few years later another crisis loomed when Kitty's master died and his property was divided among his heirs. Perhaps because she was a young women with four young female children to care for she may have been considered more of a liability than an asset in the harsh economic calculation of slavery, so she was freed by her master. For the young black woman, this news was little better than if she had been bound away. Virginia law prohibited free-blacks from living in Virginia, as did most of the other "slave" states, so she was forced to move out of state. But if she went to a “free” state, Charles would certainly never be allowed to visit. So, she chose “Washington City” (D.C.), seventy five miles away, where freed slaves were allowed, but strict “black codes” gave slaveholders confidence they could control their slaves, and might encourage Hansborough to permit Charles an occasional visit.

In August 1858 Charles and a friend were given one week travel passes to go to Washington under the supervision of some of Hansborough's relatives and with prior notification of the Washington police.  In Washington they managed to slip away from their escorts, make their escape and link up with the Underground Railroad, an association of people who aided fugitive slaves. From there they made their way to Philadelphia, probably in the hold of a small coastal schooner,  then on to Albany and the Underground Railway Station run by a freeborn black man, Stephen Meyers.   In Albany Meyers offered the fugitives a choice . They could either take a ticket to continue on by train to Canada or stay on in upstate New York, in a rural area and be set up with jobs, there. Charles chose the latter option, believing it would be easier for his family to make their way up to Albany, and that by working, he would be able to send them money to make it happen sooner. A deciding factor may have been the presence of Minot Crosby, a teacher who had befriended him in the South, and probably helped facilitate his escape. Crosby had abruptly left his teaching position and fled from Virginia when Crosby's abolitionist leanings and Underground Railroad activities had become known. The teacher had settled in Sand Lake, Rensselaer County and was teaching at the Female Seminary, located there. At the time, rural Rensselaer County was enjoying a boom in lumber production, so work was readily found for Nalle, an experienced coachman, driving lumber wagons.

While there was much abolitionist support in New York State, (the Albany and Troy UGRR stations openly solicited monies from donors, even holding public fund raising events), New York was deeply divided. Most Democrats were pro-slavery, and supported the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 which required “free” states and federal commissioners to assist Southern slaveholders recover their runaway slaves. Living near Charles was a young, struggling lawyer, Horatio Averill. Averill had practiced law for four years but had lost his position in a New York law firm following an accusation of embezzlement. He had recently worked for a small local newspaper, but had been let go from that job, as well.

One of Charles' ambitions was to learn to read and write – skills denied him when he was a slave. Crosby was tutoring him, and helping him write letters. Somehow, Averill or one of his siblings overheard one of their conversations or surmised from the contents of one or more of his letters that Nalle was a runaway slave and that Blucher Hansborough was his former master. Averill wrote Hansborough advising him of Charles' whereabouts, and offering to represent Blucher as his counsel to facilitate the slave's recapture and legal extradition to Virginia.

Charles suddenly left Sand Lake for Troy in the early spring of 1860. Whether he suspected something or was seeking the society of a larger black community is unclear. He found lodging in the house of William Henry, a local grocer and employment as a coachman for Uri Gilbert, a wealthy industrialist whose factory built railway coaches on nearby Green Island.

On April 27, 1860 Nalle was running an errand for Gilbert's wife using Gilbert's carriage to pick up bread at a local bakery. He had just climbed back onto the carriage when he was grabbed from behind by two men. One wore the star of a U.S. Deputy Marshall.  Charles stared in horror when he recognized the other as Jack Wale, a rough man he knew from his former Virginia home, who sometimes worked as a fugitive slave catcher for the local planters.  Wale fastened a heavy set of manacles on him triumphantly announcing these were the same handcuffs he had used on Charles youngest brother when he transported him to the Richmond slave market, to be sold several months before. The pair pulled Charles onto the pavement and dragged him several blocks to the Mutual Bank Building where the U.S. Commissioners had a second floor office. There, affidavits and other paperwork were completed for his transportation back to Virginia.  Wale, of course, was there to testify to Charles identity, as was Averill who testified to Charles' time in New York, and what he had learned about the fugitive.

The Mutual Bank Building, today

Meanwhile, one of Gilbert's sons had gone looking for Nalle, when he had not returned. After finding the abandoned  carriage, he contacted the grocer with whom Charles was staying. After an inquiry at the local jail turned up nothing, he heard from eyewitnesses that Nalle was being held at the U.S. Commissioners office, and Henry began telling his contacts in the Underground Railroad and the local Vigilance Committee, an organization to aid blacks, that had formed in cities in the North after the passage of the Fugitive Slave Act.

Plaque Commemorating the Nalle Rescue in Troy

Outside the bank building, a crowd began to gather, as Nalle, clearly visible in handcuffs could be seen from a second floor window.  Soon men and women, black and white, of all political persuasions, numbering nearly a thousand surrounded the building, blocking the roads leading from the building.  So too was the stairway to the second floor office jammed with people. In that hallway a seemingly decrepit old black woman was making her way to the top of the stairs. Ignored by most, she pushed her way past some, and used her apparent age and feeble condition to insinuate her way past others until she reached the head of the crowd.  Inside the office the Underground Railroad's lawyer, Martin Townsend, had gained entry to make his arguments and protest the proceeding but was told the proceeding was concluded.  Changing tactics, he rushed out to meet with State Supreme Court Judge George Gould and obtain a writ of Habeas Corpus. Nearly two hours later Townsend returned with a hand written note requiring the commissioner and the deputies to bring Nalle before him. In the meantime the crowd had nearly doubled in size;  a false alarm, called in had brought fire engines racing to the scene; Nalle had made a dramatic escape attempt by trying to jump through a second story window, before being dragged back in; and offers to buy Nalle's freedom shouted up to Jack Wale in the office, had been repudiated by the slave catcher.

Even with reinforcements from the local police, the Commissioner and Deputies were faced with the daunting task of bringing Nalle several blocks to the judge's office through this huge emotion-charged crowd. As the police cleared the stairway bringing their manacled prisoner out into the daylight, something they least expected happened.  The decrepit old black women lunged forward latching onto their prisoner with a powerful grasp, attempting to wrench him from the officers, and revealing herself as Harriet Tubman¹ the famous abolitionist who had personally led scores of blacks to freedom. Tubman's actions signalled the outbreak of pandemonium and set in motion the events outlined in the beginning paragraph.

Broadway, Watervliet

After about a month of hiding, Charles was freed when the people of Troy and West Troy arranged to buy his freedom.  Hansborough accepted $650,  having few other options open to him. Charles returned to Troy, and returned to work as Uri Gilbert's coachman.  After four years he was finally reunited with his wife and family.  The federal government decided to prosecute those they could identify as having taken leading parts in the riot. Subpoenas were issued but then events got in the way, as the United States became embroiled in a much, much bigger conflict, and they were forgotten.

1Tubman was in town visiting her cousins on her way to a speaking engagement in Boston. She had perfected this disguise/persona in several of her rescues in the deep South.


Next Week-- In Precarious Positions Part II   and
the Marker of the Week returns.

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