EPILOGUE

RoscoJanuary 1, 1863

EPILOGUEI ain’t never seen so many colored folk gathered in one place. Too many nigras to count. And these were high hat coloreds. Free men and women, dressed fine and proper. Coloreds who had enjoyed freedom’s advantages. It was as if the Almighty had assembled us for the occasion, and had set me and Clem down in the middle of the hullabaloo to revel in the gladness.

EPILOGUEWe’d been waiting inside the packed hall of Tremont Temple since sundown, when, at about ten o’clock, a messenger hurried into the hall. “It’s coming! It’s on the wires” he shouted. Soon after, a telegram came - - the proclamation!

EPILOGUEFredrick Douglass himself came to hear the news. Douglass was a man of unforgettable stature. A big man. Bold and Proud. It was clear he didn’t shy back for nobody. His hair was a swell of cotton that haloed his face. He was dressed proper as a white man – waistcoat, cravat, starched shirt, and shoes shiny as a lookin’ glass. Clem nudged me. “That there’s a colored king,” he said.

EPILOGUEAnd, oh, could Douglass ever speak. It was clear he had been schooled in the ways of oration. When he addressed the crowd – when he told us that President Abraham Lincoln’s signed-and-official Emancipation Proclamation would be delivered at any moment – he brought slow, deliberate music to each and every word. When the proclamation finally arrived, Douglass had to hush the excited crowd who kept interrupting the reading of the document with joyous shouts.

EPILOGUEFinally the audience settled. We grew as quiet as the winter air, letting true delight settle upon us. When the part of Lincoln’s pronouncement that said “ . . . I do order and declare that all persons held as slaves . . . are, and henceforward shall be, free . . .” was read, the crowd broke into another wild cheer. Whoops and hollers rang through all of Boston. Menfolk threw their hats high in the air. Women did the same – they let loose their bonnets. People were hugging and happy and giddy and dancing. Even grown men cried at the wonder of it all.

EPILOGUE

But there was more to Lincoln’s proclamation. A provision that, judging by the thankful grin crossing Frederick Douglass’s face, pleased him greatly. The document said that henceforth freed slaves “. . . of suitable condition . . .” would be “. . . received into the armed services of the United States to garrison forts, positions, stations, and other places, and to man vessels of all sorts in said service.”

EPILOGUEEven though the Union had allowed colored men to enlist in their army before this day, hearing these words from our president made it all the more official, somehow. Frederick Douglass, our colored king, led us in singing “Blow Ye the Trumpet, Blow!” and he told the crowd that any man among us would have his full and complete assistance in enlisting for military duty.

EPILOGUE

Clem locked me in the crook of his elbow. He hugged me to him. “Glory be!” I shouted. “Praise freedom’s name! Coloreds to arms!”

Clem raised both his fists. “To arms, to arms!” he called.

EPILOGUE

All of us nigras gathered on this day – men, women, young’uns, and old folk – had finally come to freedom. Some had been born to freedom. Others had bought their way free. Many had escaped, like Clem and me, who’d come to freedom by way of “Old Chariot,” the kindness of white folks, the Diamond Eye, and the Almighty’s good grace.