On 7/8/15 6:40 AM, Robert Green wrote:


Your comments about your ancestors and the runaway slave problem touches on
one of the little discussed issues of the Civil War - The Fugitive Slave
Act. States like Texas were ****ed that many Northern states had passed
laws that attempted to circumvent the recovery of fugitive slaves.

Ironically, Texas did not believe the Northern states had the right to trump
Federal laws (at least those that benefited them), so it's hard to believe
that the South's motive for war was about States' Rights. That's just
revisionist history. I can't blame them, though. After all, defending
States' Rights seems a whole more civilized and principled than defending
the rights to steal the labor of enslaved human beings. Doesn't sound so
noble expressed that way. But in nearly every secession statement at the
start of the war, slavery was the number one issue. Common sense says it
was because its abolition threatened the entire economic model of the region
for Southerners whether they owned slaves or not.


In 1835, an abolitionist smuggled one of the most beautiful, heroic
women in history to Texas to escape slavery in Connecticut.

Lorenzo de Zavala, the internationally renowned Mexican doctor, editor,
legislator, and author, championed American immigration to Texas. He and
others got land grants for a colony on Galveston Bay. Sam Houston, no
longer welcome among the Cherokees, got in on it. So did James Morgan
of North Carolina.

Morgan wanted to bring his 16 slaves to Texas as free labor in an
integrated community. Slave interests had other plans. Bring in slaves,
which was illegal. Plant cotton. Buy arms. When Mexican officials come
to free the slaves, raise hell in the American press. The US Army comes
in and annexes Texas. Plant lots of cotton and come into the union as 5
slaves states. With Arkansas, this would mean 36 slave senators against
24 free senators.

In 1831, Zavala's wife of 24 years died. He married Emily D. West, 22,
of Albany. In New York in October of 1835, Morgan signed papers
indenturing Emily D. West, but she was 20, six years younger than Mrs.
Zavala. The paper said she was from New Haven. Two New Haven
abolitionists signed as witnesses.

She was strikingly beautiful. Her intelligence and education impressed
people even more. Morgan said she was a mulatto from the West Indies,
but some said she looked like an American Indian.

There had been 6,000 slaves in Connecticut. Ownership appealed to the
vanity of doctors and clergymen, for example. Some were Indians, dating
back to the colonial system for providing foster care. By 1835, there
were only about 30 slaves, due to be released at 21.

A greedy owner would want to take a slave south to sell, instead. An
attractive young woman could fetch a high price from a man in Virginia,
but the Connecticut resident would face criminal prosecution at home.

New York allowed visitors and part-time residents to have slaves.
Traffic of people with slaves between New York and slave states would
have been routine. If the owner took her to New York just before she
turned 21 and returned alone to Connecticut after she was 21, he could
claim he'd released her.

If the law required her to be freed soon, but abolitionists gave her
documents with Mrs. Zavala's maiden name, apparently they'd learned that
her owner planned to sell into sexual bondage.

Morgan took her and her little brother, called Turner, by coach to
Pittsburgh, then downriver to New Orleans, where his sloop waited. She
must have been quite capable, for he put her in charge of his hotel.
Her brother went to work for a newspaper.

Houston caused the deaths of Crockett, Bowie, and Travis by making his
trip very leisurely when sent to relieve the Alamo. Outclassing Houston
militarily and politically, Crockett might have replaced him, had he
lived. Then Houston ordered the Texans to throw their cannons in the
river and retreat. Time after time, he vetoed action. Suspicion grew
that he was a traitor. If he foiled the revolution, Santa Anna could
make him governor.

A steamboat was waiting at Groce's Landing on the Brazos, and their
fortunes changed. Thomas Rusk was there with authorization to take
command if Houston refused to fight. It brought food. The Yellow Rose
had allegedly supervised the free blacks who had loaded it at Morgan's
Point. That was where her legend began. First bred by a Manhattan
lawyer in 1824, the yellow rose was known only in the New York area. It
must have been her nickname in Connecticut.

It also brought Yaggers. Unless you were Daniel Boone, the long rifle
was effective to 80 yards. It was slow to load, wouldn't take a bayonet,
and was a pathetic club. In the hands of the inventor, the British Baker
was effective at 200 yards. That made it legendary.

To get into a unit using the US M-1803, a soldier had to qualify at 300
yards! It was such an effective club that it had no bayonet, but the
elite who carried them, had tomahawks.

One reason for the accuracy was the use of paper patches instead of
leather. With closer tolerances, a soldier had to know his stuff to
avoid fouling it in battle. In 1817, an improved version of the yagger
used no patch at all, for even greater accuracy. There were 38,000 made,
but few were issued. In 1821, they were locked away in armories. Army
officials didn't like the idea of elite soldiers.

They were on marshy ground with their backs to a swollen river. Santa
Anna was nearby, and their tracks showed where they were. They seemed
very vulnerable, but instead of crossing, they trained for several days.
Morale improved.

At San Jacinto, when Mexican riflemen took cover in woods close to
Houston's camp, a company stepped into the open and sent them running
with a volley from their yaggers. When Mexican cavalry attacked with
sabers and lances, Texan cavalry suffered no losses stopping them with
empty yaggers. Who had trained them so well? Yaggers had been issued
only to a few elite units, and they'd been in mothballs 14 years. An
exceptional military adviser had arrived.

The boat was armored with cotton bales. Santa Anna's forces were along
the bank downstream. There was a scheme to put troops with yaggers
aboard, inflict devastating losses, and be in Harrisburg well ahead of
Santa Anna. Houston rejected the plan. His army made the slow
crossing and began the trek to Harrisburg. Santa Anna burned it before
they arrived. Suspicion of Houston continued to grow.

A barge of livestock and other food awaited the troops at San Jacinto.
They heard the Yellow Rose had been captured as she loaded it at
Morgan's Point. In fact, Morgan had told her and her brother to close
the hotel and catch a boat to Galveston. President Burnett had showed
up. She put him and his family safely aboard a boat. Maybe it was
overloaded, but she wasn't invited. A gallant Mexican colonel took her
and her brother into custody.

In the morning, Mexican cavalry rode up close enough to draw fire. They
let Turner off. Officers recounted that nobody consulted Houston after
that. Rusk and Wharton went off on a boat. When Rusk got back, he gave
the battle plan. Wharton didn't appear until the middle of the battle,
near one end of Santa Anna's line, the river behind him, screened by
trees and brush.

As Americans pursued Mexican troops into a gully, Houston stopped the
attack and rode in alone. He talked with Mexican officers and returned
unscathed. He was a traitor. His plan had gone awry and he was telling
Santa Anna how to escape. What other explanation is there?

Reaching the Mexican line, Americans with long rifles broke the stocks
off as instructed. After the Paoli Massacre in 1777, Anthony Wayne, the
greatest general of the Revolution, had told his riflemen to do that if
it ever happened again. At San Jacinto, the rebel Mexcan company on the
American left flank had been instructed to pin white cards to their
hats. In 1779, Washington had found Stony Point impregnable. Wayne had
his men pin white paper to their hats and walk in. Who would remember
these tricks in 1836?

Wayne had been poisoned to death 40 years ago, but an officer close to
him had been present in 1791, when 261 men had broken the stocks off
their rifles and fought their way out of a massacre three times worse
than Custer's Last Stand. He'd been called back to duty in 1808, to
command the first company equipped with yaggers. I've found him on the
road to Texas in December of 1835. In 1840, he turned up as a Cherokee
chief in Oklahoma. I believe he was the mastermind who directed Rusk and
Wharton.

If officers had listened to Houston, he would have brought defeat. Santa
Anna was a womanizer, but sleeping with a chick who wasn't white would
have damaged his reputation. He would have wanted to dine with her, for
the conversation and to learn about the attitudes of the rebels. He
would have assumed she was a slave who saw him as her liberator. He
would have trusted her.

She would have said they were afraid of execution, as at the Alamo and
Goliad. He would have confided that he and Houston intended to settle
the revolt peacefully and offer amnesty. She would have suggested
releasing her brother to tell them he treated prisoners well and
intended to grant amnesty. She would have instructed her brother instead
to tell Rusk that Houston was working for Santa Anna.

The song is thought to have been written shortly before the battle
because copies have turned up in the belongings of veterans. Unlike the
Civil War version, the original lyrics are moving. The author describes
himself as a darky and a soldier. Researchers thought a song written on
the eve of battle must have come from a folk tune, but no similar tune
has been discovered. It sounds like a marching tune. A professional
soldier might know marching songs not known to the public.

The penmanship is elegant, but the spelling is full of errors. I don't
think blacks were allowed to enlist in the regular army, but a commander
might have a trusted slave. Speaking for the commander, he'd have
indirect authority like a sergeant. He'd develop excellent penmanship
writing reports but wouldn't presume to write personal letters to the
sort of people who would be critical of spelling.

In the weeks before meeting the army at Groce's Landing, he and the
retired officer would probably have stayed at the hotel to meet with
political leaders and discuss strategy and logistics. With long
experience in training, he would have had lots of contact with company
captains at Groce's Landing.

When they began asking for copies of his song, he realized that if he
wrote his name, people who read it might realize he'd spend weeks at her
hotel and think the song meant she'd had an affair with a black man old
enough to be her grandfather. He gave only his initials, HBC, but he
dedicated the song to C. A. Jones.

The son of a freed slave from Charleston, Charles A. Jones attended
college in Connecticut. Then, while studying to be ordained an
Episcopal priest, he taught at the Mission School in Hartford, founded
to educate the slave children due to be freed at 21. He was brilliant,
going on to found an internationally renowned school. With so few slave
children left, he could have given her plenty of attention.

The victory made Houston governor. Most of the leaders in his army hated
him for the rest of their lives, but they kept his secret for the sake
of political stability. He started a whispering campaign to discredit
her. "Don't say I told you, but I won because the Yellow Rose was in his
tent driving him to distraction with sexual delights."

It's widely accepted but couldn't be true. Immediately after his
capture, Santa Anna had said he was dozing under a tree because his tent
was too hot. Houston's forces, too, were in the shade because it was
hot. He was at the line as soon as shooting started. Other Mexican
officers confirmed that.

Whether or not she had any African blood, the slave-holding culture
considered her black. Houston signed a law that any blacks who couldn't
prove they were free, would be enslaved. He must have done it in
Morgan's absence, for he didn't vouch for her. A judge did. She got a
passport identifying her as free.

She disappeared. A researcher turned her up in New York City on the 1840
census, when she was 25. He couldn't find her again. One assumes she
got married. Texans adored her, but I guess Houston's rumor drove her out.

The sheet music was finally published in 1858. Morgan, the only one who
was still alive of those in whose homes she'd stayed, was 70. She was
46. It said, "for pi*ano and guitar, composed and arranged ex*pressly
for Charles H. Brown by J. K."

The author uses only initials, but he must have been someone with inside
knowledge and not a pirate because, for the first time, the title
identifies the Yellow Rose as Emily D. West.

Brown was a music publisher near Memphis. That was a good distribution
point for a song about Texas, but instead of publishing, he turned the
copyright over to a New York publisher. Why let the royalties slip
through his fingers? Why not start it in the southwest, where it was
less likely to go unnoticed? Why include West's name in the title when
it was of no interest to the public?

I think it was published in New York to be sure Emily had access to it.
It would remind her that many in Texas remembered and loved her. She
could show it to her children to prove she was the Yellow Rose of Texas.