DRAFT

From Slave to Citizen on James Island:

The Archaeology of Freedom at Fort Johnson

Please Address Comments to:

Carl Steen

PO Box 50394

Columbia, SC 29250

diachronic@aol.com

Note: figures are in a separate file:

http://38CH69.com/Paper Draft/Figures-html/slave to citizen figures.html

Fort Johnson is located on Charleston Harbor, at the tip of James Island (Figure ). Between 1995 and 2000 I worked on several projects there (Figure ), including a large scale survey, and evaluative testing in several areas. This was done in advance of a new Marine and Environmental Research Laboratory - the MEHRL project. Our survey and earlier work had showed that all of the areas acceptable for a building location contained archaeological remains of one sort or another. The area eventually chosen fell primarily in a filled wetland, so relatively little of the intact archaeological remains would be impacted (Figure ). This was sampled with 50cm test units, 2x2m excavation units, and a metal detector survey. These revealed an occupation that dated primarily to the second half of the 19th century but which had no obvious complicated architectural remains, so mitigation plans were made that called for additional hand excavation, topsoil stripping and feature excavation, and long term monitoring and phased metal detecting, among other things.

The occupation appeared to be a fairly typical Lowcountry Gullah site - relatively low artifact density, ephemeral architecture. Then of course there was that map that showed six “Negro Cabins” in our area (Figure ). At first these were interpreted as people working on the base, but then further research showed that they were in fact, squatters, which adds an extra dimension to their story. But first, some background.

Fort Johnson is probably best known as the place where the first shot of the Civil War was fired (Figure ), but it has a history that is curiously non-martial. The land was claimed by an Englishman soon after the Carolina colony was formed in 1670. He quickly died from “country fever” and the land passed through several hands until the threat of war with the French and Spanish in 1704 prompted the legislature to consider the need for fortifications (Figure ). In 1708 the first Fort Johnson was built. Hurricanes and neglect caused it to fall into ruin, and be rebuilt in 1737 and 1759. It was rebuilt during the American Revolution, but never saw action.

Following the war it was rebuilt again in 1793, and destroyed by hurricanes in 1803 and 1806. For the War of 1812 new fortifications were built on higher ground, including a Martello Tower. But Charleston was never attacked, and the Army's second phase of coastal fortifications focused on other locations around the harbor, and Fort Johnson became headquarters for the Army Engineers. It served in this capacity until January of 1861, when the Confederates took over and re-fortified it.

During most of its history Fort Johnson served a non-military function as well. The harbor's quarantine anchorage was offshore, and incoming captains had to report to the commander or quarantine officer. So although it was an army base, it also served a peaceful and benign function that continues today. It was a place where people from around the world could be found, but it was also on the tip of James Island, a Sea Island with several large plantations. It was the home of a few hundred whites, and a few thousand slaves. The latter, consisting of African, Indian, and mixed race individuals, provided much of the labor for projects at Fort Johnson and other harbor defenses.

As early as 1831 Fort Johnson was taking on another role: the planters of James Island began to move their families to a summer resort they called Johnsonville. “Resort” may be a strong word, because the buildings were described as plain and unpretentious. Fever outbreaks were a constant threat during the 18th and 19th centuries and the whites who could - and their households - decamped during the warm months. During the years leading up to the Civil War Fort Johnson also served as a public landing and steamboat stop.

As tensions mounted in 1860 Federal troops abandoned the installation and took refuge at Fort Sumter. The Confederates took over in January of 1861. They immediately started building artillery emplacements (Figure ). The fort was built up considerably during the war. It was bombarded almost daily after the Americans took Morris Island and the surrounding marshes in 1863, but only saw a direct land attack on one occasion. This was easily repulsed, and the Confederates held the fort until their surrender in 1865. Immediately after the war the fort was occupied by Federal troops, who inventoried the artillery and dismounted the guns. Soon they were demobilized and sent home.

The period between 1865 and 1872 is poorly documented at Fort Johnson. Army records mention a Private Samuel Bryant of the 21st USCT Regiment dying at the “small pox hospital Fort Johnson, James Island” in 1865 (RG 94 7-16-1865). A list of people treated at the “James Island Hospital” is found in the Freedmen's Bureau papers (RG 105, entry 2987) but this was likely at the McLeod Plantation headquarters.

When the war was underway most James Islanders white and black were evacuated. When the war ended McLeod Plantation was seized by the Freedmen's Bureau, and given to former slaves, but this was quickly rescinded, and for years the Island had a demographic and social structure quite similar to what had existed before the war. Most Black's worked on white owned farms, only now for wages or shares. Initially the work was done under supervised contracts, but with the demise of the Freedmen's Bureau in 1868 individuals negotiated their own deals- for better or worse. Some were able to obtain land. Others claimed government land and other free lands. (Figure street)

This was a time of struggle and wrenching poverty for the Island's African American residents. In 1872 it was reported that 1900 of the 4000 free blacks living on James Island died of small pox (Lebby 1872: 725). Every family probably faced the loss one or more members.

In 1874 a mortar battery was proposed for Fort Johnson in what would have been a part of the nations third system of coastal defenses (Wade 1977). In a note accompanying the plans an un-named author (probably Genl. Gilmore) stated “There is nothing left of the old fort at this place except some rough mounds of earth and some Confederate guns which are almost completely buried in the ground” (RG 77 Drawer 67, Sheet A). He noted the presence of a frame house 70'x25' and two frame structures 12'x12', all of which were used for storage. He also said:

“There are besides some rough cabins on the reservation occupied by colored people under whose authority is not known, but there seems to be no occasion for disturbing them.”

The site had been used as a quarantine station intermittently since as early as 1698, but after the Civil War this became its primary purpose (Horlbeck 1881). In 1874 the quarantine station was “near the fort, but outside of the United States Reservation” (RG 77 Drawer 67, Sheet A). Dr. Robert Lebby Sr. of James Island and Charleston had served as the state and city quarantine officer before the war, and as a contract surgeon with the Army. He and both of his sons served the Confederate government during the war. Robert Lebby Sr. ran two hospitals in the city, while his sons served in the Confedrate Army.

With the end of the war their services went to the new Federal occupation government and their private practices. When civil government was restored in 1868 he was appointed Health Officer of the Port (LFP 10-14-1868). A letter thanking him for his “devoted care” was written by a French Ship Captain in 1870 (LFP 5-7-1870). Though they had evacuated James Island for the city during the war, in 1872 Robert Lebby Jr. wrote to his father that he was in the process of building a new house on their old plantation (LFP 3-29-1872).

Robert Lebby Sr. was appointed Surgeon General of the State by the Governor in January of 1873 (LFP 1-8-1873). This is a position with the state militia, and may account for a late 19th century militia button found in 1998 (Figure 27 and Steen et al 2003:157). Receipts for his son E. Munroe Lebby's services as Assistant Health Officer for Charleston Harbor in 1873 marked Fort Johnson suggest the continued use of, at the least, the docks and boat facilities. Robert Lebby produced detailed reports as Health Officer in 1872, 1873, and 1874 (LFP).

Recognizing the dangers of contagious disease the Federal government moved to upgrade quarantine facilities nationwide. The National Board of Health provided buildings and facilities, but Dr. Lebby's son Robert Lebby Jr., administered the operations for the Charleston Board of Health (Ellis 1967). The following year they reported that the quarantine Officer was now required to live “at or near” the station. In 1880 it was reported that

“New buildings are now being erected. The Health Officer of the Port, Dr. Robert Lebby Sr., informs me that these buildings consist of a fever hospital thirty five feet six inches by fifty feet six inches; smallpox hospital fifteen by thirty feet six inches; kitchen twelve by sixteen, all one story high; a Keeper's dwelling fifteen feet six inches by thirty six feet, two stories high, lathed and plastered; the others not.” The National Board of Health have repaired and strengthened the store-house to receive cargoes, thirty five feet six inches by seventy feet six inches; have erected two new buildings twelve by twelve by the store house- one for store-keeper's residence, the other for a disinfecting house. Also under order a wharf three hundred and thirty five feet long...” (Charleston Year Book 1881: 75-76)

In 1880 the federal lands were re-platted, using the 1848 plat as a basis. This outline was used in inspection reports, and to show proposed building plans and other modifications until 1906. Several plats have survived from that era that give crucial evidence. In 1880 only three buildings were depicted - an “old buoy shed (not in use)” the health officer’s house and a “negro dwelling”. The latter two were on state land, with the former at the point adjacent to the fort. The negro dwelling is in the far west of the tract. The same is true in 1883. In 1892 five buildings are shown on the point, two of which are on filled land at the quarantine wharves. Inland eight “negro cabins” and two of “Dr. Lebby’s outbuildings” are shown - but not the “health officer’s house” or, for that matter half of the ten buildings mentioned by Dr. Horlbeck. On the other hand, Dr. Horlbeck made no mention of the “negro cabins.” A plat drawn in 1906 (Figure ), when the station came back under federal control, accurately depicts the buildings mentioned by Horlbeck, and nine “negro cabins.”

In 2002 we were forced to conclude:

”...in 1880 at least one black family was living on state land just off the tract. By 1906 as many as nine families lived there -- perhaps 20-30 people. As they were living on government land there are no land plats or tax records to tell us their names. In all likelihood some were employed by the Quarantine Station, but no personnel records remain from the period of state control.” (Steen et al 2003: 122)

Historical research conducted at the time failed to identify the residents, so we were forced to rely on historic context and the archaeological record to interpret the remains and the lives of the people. Further work was done at a different part of the site in 2007 (Figure ). Historical research focused on the fort's role in the War of 1812 and as a quarantine facility. There, buried in the midst of a file of land acquisition records was a two page document consisting of answers to questions which were not included. A little perplexing at first, but reading between the lines it is easy to guess what many of the questions were. Answer 17 is pertinent:

17: Yes, negro squatters. In my report of September 8, 1892, I say “it appears to me to preserve our title these tenants should either be removed of forced to pay rent.

17a: Caleb Campbell, wife and daughter; Paul Campbell, wife and five children; Abram Brown, wife and two children; Toney Campbell, wife and four children; Jim Thomas, two daughters and two grand children. [thats 25, pretty damn good estimate 2002 me]

17b: Respectively 25, 25, 10, 15, 25 years approximately. [if this is years 1867 is 25 years earlier]

17c: Residences and small crops

It was frustrating not to know who lived at the site while trying to interpret the remains, but not an uncommon state for the archaeologist to be in. Though it was clear from the maps and documents we had that the site was occupied by African-American squatters, that was about all that could be said. Attempts to identify potential occupants through the Federal Census were unsuccessful. We could find the white occupants, but in 1870 and 1880 everyone else in the area was black, and they shared a common occupation (farmer) and economic status (poor). No one was identified as a quarantine worker.

Another development that helped me to reinterpret the earlier work was the publication of the book “James Island: Stories from Slave Descendants” by Eugene Frazier Sr. Mr. Frazier is one of those slave descendants, and from his childhood had an interest in history. Growing up, and over the years he collected stories from his family and neighbors. Now retired from his career as one of Charleston's first black police officers he has spent the last several years researching and writing. His recollections give great insight into the people of the island and their beliefs and customs from a perspective little represented in the historical literature of the Lowcountry.

With this background we can make generalizations about the people, but with names we can check the interpretations both through documents and through oral history. First, a review of the excavations in the squatter settlement and interpretations. This is a very brief summary based on Steen et al 2002, where further details can be found.

Any interpretation at Fort Johnson is difficult because of the interplay of a number of issues. For instance, the later occupation sits on the edge of a relatively dense occupation area that was the home of the base Commandant in the 1780s to 1820s. Thus earlier artifacts are mixed in with the later ones. Sorting out items with a long use life from those discarded in the 1820s is made difficult therefore. Next, during the Civil War an earthwork was built north of the Commandant's house, and troops camped in the area. Numerous tent rings and a camp kitchen were found, along with a number of uniform buttons. But with only a couple of exceptions the buttons were Federal, not Confederate. Federal troops were here after the war to dismantle the guns and batteries, which could explain this, but at the same time, army surplus clothing was issued by the Freedmen's Bureau. Clothing was also obtained through gifting, trade, purchase and salvage, so they may have been owned by the occupants (Figure ).

Finally, and by no means the least important, the entire area has been occupied since the 1950s by marine biology researchers and the state Department of Natural Resources. Trees have been cleared, roads built, low spots filled, foundations excavated, and more. Disturbance is widespread and very bad in places. Add in all of the artifacts left behind by those folks and divide by the fact that the historic occupation is all within the top 30cm of soil (except in features) and it is not hard to see that this can result in a complicated problem.

The archaeology done at Fort Johnson was spurred by development, but care was taken to do a thorough job, with the support of the state and federal agencies involved. An earlier survey (Trinkley et al 1995) had determined that the project area was “insignificant.” Questions regrading the accuracy of their maps arose (see Chapter 4), so the results could not be safely relied upon. It was agreed that the obvious highly sensitive areas should be avoided, so naturally this seemed to be the best place to concentrate. The first survey was done using shovel tests at a 30m interval. The first step we took in 1995 was to re-survey the area at a 20m interval. This showed that even the “insignificant” later 19th century occupation was dense and intact enough to be considered.

Documentary research at National Archives also revealed that the occupants were free blacks, squatters, living there “on whose authority I do not know” as the inspector said in 1874. When correlated with the modern site plan a series of maps from 1880 to 1906 showed two sets of “Negro Cabins” right in the project area (see Figure 30, center).

There was a time when historical archaeologists mostly concentrated on upper class whites and the infrastructure that supported them such as taverns, and blacksmith shops. But times changed and society changed as well. As long as the author has been in the field (1982) a more egalitarian, class and color blind approach has been taken, so the idea that free black squatters were occupying the site was interesting, and worth exploring - not something to write off. Normally avoidance and preservation is the preferred treatment for contributing properties at Fort Johnson. but this component was on the edge of one of the few areas with relatively little in the way of archaeological remains, and the components were ephemeral and the impact could effectively be mitigated with excavation and research, so plans were made for further work.

When we returned in 1998 we started by testing the entire area with 50cm test units (TUs) at a 5m interval and conducting an intensive metal detector survey (Figure ). Density maps were made, and larger 2x2m excavation units (EUs) were dug to get a larger artifact sample and identify features. This quickly established that features such as posts and wells were present, so it was decided that a combination of hand excavation and topsoil stripping would be used to expose structures. The overall sampling and metal detecting had already obtained an objective sample of the artifacts from the yards, but supplemental units were placed in especially interesting areas.

With the topsoil removed one structure was clear. Another was hidden in a mess of dozens of posts, but by analyzing their depth it was possible to suggest a configuration. Neither structure had a chimney or brick piers. They were called “rough cabins” in 1874, and later inspectors complained about their shabby appearance. In all likelihood they were built from salvaged lumber. They were probably heated with wood or coal stoves - trash burners, as Eugene Frazier (2006: 102) puts it. The remains of a number of kerosene lanterns were found, so their lighting method is known.

Attempts to identify the occupants by name were fruitless during the 1998-2002 work. We tried searching census records by finding known families - white - and people who had occupations that suggested they worked at the Quarantine Station, looking to see who their neighbors were. This was fruitless, as all of the blacks in the area were listed as farmers and laborers. Further, the quarantine officer, Dr. Robert Lebby, had a family farm / plantation a couple of miles up Fort Johnson Road so it was hard to say whether he was enumerated there, or at the quarantine officer's house at Fort Johnson.

So we were forced to deal with nameless, faceless people and try to extract meaning from the artifacts using inference. We did archaeology, in other words. The arrangement of posts and distribution of artifacts told us where the people lived, and that their homes were insubstantial, as we might expect. Several expedient barrel wells were found in the area. These were made by digging a large hole down to the water table, then sinking another hole into which a barrel was placed. A second barrel was placed on this and the hole backfilled. This provided much of their water supply.

Faunal and botanical preservation were bad, and little conclusive analysis could be done. Species identified include the usual cow, pig and sheep or goats, but also a substantial number of fish, turtles and shellfish from the surrounding marsh. Lead cast net weights and copper alloy nails also tell of boat use and maintenance and casting for shrimp and fish. Today many James Island residents still begin every fishing trip by casting for their bait. Shotgun brasses and lead shot tell us also that they were probably hunting for ducks and other birds, though no bird bones were identified.

Life during slavery was hard, but life after slavery was not easy either. Most of the first generation, the actual freed slaves, were illiterate and lacked the sort of skills that would allow them to join the industrial workforce. Although the freedmen guarded their status jealously and were free to move, they mostly ended up working on the farms of the former plantation owners and living in what remained of the old slave cabins. If and when it was possible people bought land of their own, but the system was stacked against them in that regard as working on a share or wage basis on white owned farms insured that few would ever get ahead far enough to have the capital to become landowners.

The path taken by the Campbell, Brown and Thomas families, squatting on available public land, was an alternative that most people could not take, but it must have been empowering to break away. It was inferred in 2002 that the occupants probably worked seasonally at the quarantine station, because they had money for ceramics, glass, multiple firearms and other household goods. In terms of material culture they had far more artifacts than most tenant sites and even more than white landowner occupied sites excavated at Fort Bragg, in the Sandhills of North Carolina (Steen 2004).

The same set of documents that provided the people's names provides proof of this. In this folder a 1918 letter from the Quarantine Officer to his superiors in Washington asked for permission to allow two attendants families to move their houses to Fort Johnson. He stated that they were tenants on the Hinson farm, and that Hinson had given them an ultimatum: they must either work in his fields full time, or move out of their houses. Thus an explanation for another perplexing question is also provided. In the 1870-1900 Census records these families were listed together, as if they were indeed neighbors, but in association with the white Grimball family whose farm was across the island on the Stono. In these records they were listed as farmers, not workers such as boatmen, or quarantine attendants.

The documents tell us that the occupants were raising families. The second generation was pushed to learn to read and write. Pieces of drawing slate inscribed with lines like a sheet of notebook paper and slate pencils were interpreted as evidence of this. This is part of a larger pattern that affected poor farm families of all races. During the late 19th century advances in farm machinery and technology led to mechanized plowing and harvesting, scientific crop research led to improved strains, and chemical fertilizers led to higher yields from more marginal soils. Larger farms requiring fewer hands caused people to move to the towns and cities to look for work. Increasingly the jobs required reading, writing and math skills. For blacks government help was limited, and in many cases schools developed in local churches, but a state educational system was developed in the 1890s. Four elementary schools were established on James Island, including one on Fort Johnson Road at the “Three Trees.” These landmark live oaks were at the intersection of Fort Johnson and Secessionville Roads (Frazier 2006).

Religion and church were an oasis, both physically and mentally, for the enslaved and for the free. Faith in their God was all that kept people going in the hardest of times (Frazier 2006). During Antebellum times many slaves attended white churches and camp meetings. When freedom came the African American people of James Island were able to form their own congregations, and these became singularly important for the community. Church was a place where serious cultural negotiations were carried out. People of all ages were on their best behavior, and dressed appropriately. In our excavations we found fancy buttons for ladies clothing, bone and porcelain collar stays for men's starched-collar shirts, and perfume and cologne bottles, all of which add up to a socially agreed upon standard of “presentability.” In some cases people doubtlessly used these occasions to display their relative wealth and social status, but for all cleaning up and dressing in their Sunday best was common practice, and an implicitly expected behavior.

In the South at large the first generations of free African Americans were struggling to become full fledged citizens in a society that worked to keep them down. The Federal government gave them the right to vote, but when state control returned they found they had to fight to exercise that right, and even then they were denied. The dream of equality was quickly buried with Jim Crow and segregation. But within the black community individuals and families struggled to raise themselves up, and an alternate society developed with professionals, teachers, and workers as its foundation. By the early 20th century the roots of real social change were set, however: the transition to the modern era. This is illustrated with the workers at the Quarantine station.

The Quarantine operation was run by the city and state between the Civil War and 1880, when it was taken over by the National Board of Health. Its operators were still provided by the City however. In 1906 it was taken over by the Marine Hospital and Public Health Service, and was operated by government employees. Among these were local African Americans who worked with both local and “assigned” whites. It is this pattern of enforced interaction, combined with a web of modern influences including ease of transportation, increased residential mobility and mass media that exposed the negative aspects of society, while at the same time showing the oppressed that there was another way, that led to the end of legally mandated segregation and the society we live in today.