Ohio History Journal

edited by

MICHAEL SPEER

 

Autobiography of

Adam Lowry Rankin

 

 

 

At a time when American historians are turning more toward quantitative tech-

niques and psychological analyses of individuals, the autobiography of Adam

Lowry Rankin provides a refreshing first-person account from a man who partook

of some of the most important activities of his day.¹ This work is an interesting

commentary on nineteenth century America and provides insight into the motives,

activities, and methods of those reformers who eagerly sought to improve the

American social, religious, and governmental system in the years before and imme-

diately after the Civil War. Even though the entire manuscript is not reproduced

here, the selections-which appear within quotation marks-give Rankin an oppor-

tunity to tell his story in his own characteristic style.

Adam Lowry Rankin, born November 4, 1816, in Jonesboro, Tennessee, was a

member of the fifth generation of Rankins to live in America. In 1727 his great-

great-grandfather John Rankin, a Scotch Presbyterian, had emigrated to Pennsyl-

vania for economic and religious reasons. John's son Thomas fought in the

Revolutionary War and received payment for his services in worthless Continentals.

Because of economic hardship, Thomas moved to the Tennessee frontier in the

early 1780's where he was soon joined by his son Richard, Lowry's (as he was

called by the family) grandfather.2

Richard Rankin was able to purchase 1000 acres in Jefferson County, Tennessee,

in 1786 and shortly became a Ruling Elder in the Presbyterian church. According

to his grandson, Richard was an antislavery man, though not prone to discuss his

proclivities in public, and his wife Jane held the same point of view. Richard's

intellectual pursuits, unusual on the rugged Tennessee frontier, tended toward

religion and theology, and he did not hold the typical Tennessee prejudice against

education for the clergy. (p. 2-3)3

 

1. A xerox copy of the typescript copy of the Autobiography of Adam Lowry Rankin as well as

a collection of Rankin family photographs was recently presented to the Ohio Historical Society by

Mr. and Mrs. Gerald DeGraf of Carmel, California. The handwritten manuscript was completed in the

early 1890's, and a typewritten copy was made of it about 1930 by one of Rankin's granddaughters,

Miss Belle Rankin. Location of the original manuscript is unknown. A newly typed copy of the tran-

script is in the Ohio Historical Society library, and the numbers appearing in parenthesis in the text

of the article refer to the page numbers of this copy. The editor has corrected obvious spelling

errors and has brought punctuation into conformity with modem usage.

2. The exact date is unclear; see John Rankin, "Life of Rev. John Rankin, written by himself in

his eightieth year," 1-2. Typescript copy in the Ohio Historical Society library.

3. See Richard Hofstader, Anti-Intellectualism in American Life (New York, 1964), 55-116, for a

general discussion of frontier effects on education and religion in America.

 

Mr. Speer is a doctoral candidate at The Ohio State University.

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Rankin Autobiography                                                        19

With family encouragement Lowry's father, John Rankin the famous Ohio

abolitionist, was educated at Washington College in Tennessee and became an

ordained minister of the Presbyterian church.⁴ Even so, "he was received by the

churches of that [Abingdon] presbytery with suspicion and distrust because of his

frequent expression of opposition to slavery. This expression of his antislavery

views had as yet been made only in private and social circles and not from the

pulpit. Early in 1817 he preached a sermon on the Sabbath in which he endeavored

to show that the teaching of Christ was opposed to all forms of oppression and

that it was the mission of Christianity to drive oppression from the earth. He used

the words 'forms of oppression' as a conservative reference to slavery. That was

more than the slaveholders of Abingdon Presbytery could tolerate. He might express

what views he chose in private life, but they were too incendiary to be advanced in

the pulpit, the slaves might hear them. He was instructed not to repeat the

incident. . . .

"My father saw that he must choose one of two alternatives, either he must

hide or abandon his antislavery convictions, which to his mind would be an

abandonment of Christianity, an impossible thing for him to do and at the same

time maintain what he conceived to be his Christian manhood, or quit the min-

istry, [if he remained in Tennessee] . . . . The other possibility was for him to

migrate to a free state where he could with freedom preach the whole gospel of

Christ. This he resolved to do. He, therefore, informed his friends of his purpose

to settle in Ohio as soon as he could complete his arrangements, secure the neces-

sary funds, and means of transportation." (p. 9, 10)

Because of the hardships of the journey and lack of money, Lowry's father

settled with his family for four years in Kentucky before moving on to Ripley,

Ohio. In Kentucky he served the Presbyterian church of Concord until harassment

by local mobs opposing his work among the slaves made another move necessary

if he were to continue giving religious instruction to black people. John Rankin

settled his accounts in Concord and revived his purpose to move to a free state.

Lowry's memories of his boyhood, though perhaps prodded a bit by his father's

autobiography, are vivid:

"My grandfather was a great reader for a man of that period and was well

supplied with books, chiefly of a religious and theological character. When the

weather did not permit the family's attendance at church seven miles distant, they

gathered together on the Sabbath and grandfather and grandmother in turn read

to the children from the Bible or some religious or theological book. In this way

their children became familiar with the sacred scriptures and the doctrines of the

Christian system. Grandfather was a peaceful, quiet, modest, and meditative man.

He was not given to much conversation, yet when it was necessary he could readily

give the reasons for the faith that was in him.

"My grandmother was a woman of remarkable intellectual culture for one

brought up on the frontier, and her whole life was that of a pioneer. She was a

woman of strong convictions on questions of right and morals. Though a native,

and all her life a resident of a slave state, she was an open opponent of slavery.

 

4. For information on John Rankin, see Paul R. Grim, "The Rev. John Rankin, Early Abolition-

ist," Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Quarterly, XLVI (1937), 215-256; John Rankin, "Life";

Andrew Ritchie, The Soldier, the Battle, and the Victory, Being a Brief Account of the Work of Rev.

John Rankin in the Anti-Slavery Cause (Cincinnati, c. 1873); Ripley (Ohio) Historical Committee,

Ripley, Ohio, Its History and Families (n.p., 1965), especially the chapter, "Freedom's Heroes," 20-29.

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20                                                         OHIO HISTORY

Grandfather was in full sympathy with her antislavery views and would not own

a slave; yet as a quiet man he seldom expressed his antislavery views outside of

the family circle, whereas grandmother not only persistently pressed her antislavery

and temperance views upon the attention of her children, but also upon the atten-

tion of her neighbors and church members. The result was that all her sons became

the advocates of temperance [at a time] when it was not thought to be inconsistent

for church members and officers of churches to manufacture or sell whiskey, and

even occasionally to drink it to excess. Only one of her sons [Thomas] ever owned

slaves and he, at the earnest remonstrance of a brother, [Lowry's father] to be

referred to further on in this narrative, manumitted them. Thus it was that all her

children embraced her antislavery views. Some of her sons were active participants

in the great antislavery controversy that was ended by the Proclamation of Eman-

cipation of President Lincoln. Grandfather died at the age of seventy-two and

grandmother at the age of eighty-two. She was of English descent. . . . (p. 2-3)

"I might here relate as showing the strength of the religious sentiment and love

of divine service of the people of that period that my grandfather's family often

walked seven miles and back on the Sabbath to attend church, listening to two

sermons of an hour each with one hour's intermission between. Many of their

neighbors walked like distances. This often in the winter when they sat during

both services without a fire. The church building was large and usually well filled.

. . . (p. 4).

"During the year of 1815 my father boarded in the family of Adam Lowry.

Mr. Lowry was a native of Scotland. He came to Tennessee as a young man and

erected in Jonesboro a sawmill, a gristmill, a woolen mill, and a distillery. It was

not then considered to be inconsistent with Christian character to manufacture

whiskey or brandy. All these mills were driven by water power. Mr. Lowry was

a Ruling Elder in the Jonesboro Presbyterian Church. He married Miss Julia Doak,

a daughter of Rev. Samuel Doak. Although he married the daughter of a slave-

holder, he was a pronounced abolitionist. He would not own nor keep a slave. He

held that hiring slaves helped to sustain slavery by making it profitable. His wife

heartily adopted his antislavery views. They brought up a family of five daughters

and two sons. The oldest son entered the Presbyterian ministry, and three of the

daughters became the wives of Presbyterian ministers. Mr. Lowry was a man of

strong conviction respecting religious duty and was prompt in the carrying out of

his convictions. To illustrate this characteristic I need only refer to his distillery.

When the temperance question began to be agitated, his attention was called to

the Christian duty of temperance, and he accepted the views of the agitators at

once. He closed his distillery and poured out what liquor he had on hand. He

went further. He refused to sell his two copper stills but destroyed them by chop-

ping them up with an axe so that they could not be repaired, nor would he sell

the copper but held it to the day of his death. . . . (p. 6-7)

". . . my father was a pioneer in the cause of temperance. He was a persistent

advocate of that cause through his whole life. Nor did he abandon his antislavery

sentiments. His opposition to slavery was openly and frankly expressed. Through

his influence the Concord Church [in Kentucky] adopted a resolution refusing to

receive a slave holder as a member. This action of the church caused no little dis-

cussion and was not favorably received by the ministry. It was going too far and

was unwarranted. Many owners of slaves, they said, were eminent Christians.

Rev. Mr. Moreland, a Presbyterian, was quite exercised over the action taken by

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Rankin Autobiography                                                 21

 

the church and quite pronounced in his condemnation. One day he passed through

the neighborhood and asked the owner of fifteen or more slaves, whom he knew,

if he ever went to hear Mr. Rankin preach and if so what he thought of him. The

man replied, 'I go quite often and enjoy his preaching. He is earnest and evidently

believes what he teaches. He don't hesitate to go after a sinner like me.' 'What,'

asked Mr. Moreland, 'do you think of the action against slaveholders that Mr.

Rankin has induced the Concord Church to take?' He replied, 'Parson, you know

I am not a church member, but I don't think there is one of you preachers but

believes that some time in the future Christianity will destroy human slavery. Is

it not so? Well, why not preach it? In my judgment, Mr. Rankin and the Concord

Church are the only consistent Christians that I have any knowledge of in the State

of Kentucky. They have my profound respect for they don't hesitate to preach and

practice what they believe.' It is only necessary to add that the reverend gentleman

was more cautious thereafter of whom he asked questions.

"Not being able to procure a separate house or room for his family [in Con-

cord], they [my parents] had been occupying a room with others with only a quilt

hung in front of their bed during the first winter and spring. Father purchased on

credit two and a half acres in the edge of the town of Carlisle [Kentucky] and put

up a two-story brick house 18 x 40 feet, borrowing the money from the bank. This

debt harassed him all through his Concord pastorate on account of the scarcity of

money. The community was greatly embarrassed financially and could render but

little assistance except in materials.

"My father became interested in the spiritual welfare of the slaves. The law

made it a penal offense to teach a slave to read. Therefore they were denied a

knowledge of the Word of Life. He felt it was an imperative duty to do something

for their moral welfare. In accordance with such a sense of duty he proposed to

gather the colored people in a neighborhood schoolhouse that was not occupied

on the Sabbath afternoon. That there should be no cause of complaint it was

settled that only oral instruction should be given and that only such slaves as

brought from their masters a written permit to attend would be admitted. About

this time my mother's eldest brother, Samuel G. Lowry, who had just graduated

from Washington College, Tennessee, arrived with a view to pursuing under pri-

vate instruction with father a course of theological studies. He proved to be a val-

uable helper in the oral instruction of the slaves. For a year or more this plan was

permitted to go on undisturbed. Although there were various rumors of discontent

and disapproval which came to father's ears, he was so conscious of having given

no cause for complaint that he had no apprehension of any difficulty and kept right

on with the work of instruction.

"When the disapproval began to assume the form of threats, the place of meet-

ing was changed, with the consent of a slaveholder, to a private house that was not

occupied, and all was quiet for a few months. Finally, a band of the baser sort of

fellows, fortified with potations of bad whiskey, came and drove the Negroes off

with clubs. After that they were gathered in the kitchen of a friend. The mob did

not deem it prudent to attack them in an occupied dwelling and for a time were

baffled. Finally they devised the plan to waylay the slaves as they returned to their

homes and give them a light thrashing. This had the desired effect for they were

deterred through fear of injury from attending. An appeal to their masters had no

effect, for, while they expressed a strong disapproval of the treatment their slaves

had received, they would do nothing to prevent it. Those who composed that mob

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22                                                                 OHIO HISTORY

without an exception were not owners of slaves. In my own experience in the

antislavery controversy of later years, those who advocated mob violence were of

the same class.

"The result of this experience was to revive my father's purpose to settle in a

free state, and as my mother's brother had been licensed by the West Lexington

Presbytery to preach, the way seemed clear to resign and leave him in charge of

the church. Father sold his property in Carlisle at a sacrifice, agreeing to take

twelve hundred dollars in brickwork in any place in Ohio he should select, the

purchaser also exchanging his notes for father's outstanding notes. In this sale no

money was received. It was the only way in which a sale could be made, so hard

was the financial condition of the times.⁵ Paying off his smaller accounts with what

was left of his salary, and with his family, now increased to three sons and one

daughter and having but fifty dollars to meet expenses, he started the latter part

of December 1821, for Ohio.

"The last day of the year the family arrived at the Ohio River, opposite the

town of Ripley, Brown County, Ohio, and spent the night with Mr. John Courtney

a life-long antislavery man. The first day of January 1822, father and family were

taken across the river by Mr. Courtney and son in two small skiffs. The river was

running full of ice, making it impossible to cross with a large boat, while the smaller

ones could move in the small spaces between the large cakes of ice that filled the

river. The goods and horses were left with Mr. Courtney until the spring. I can

remember that crossing and how frightened we were when we were struck by a

large field of ice which nearly upset our boats. It was a slow, tedious passage and

extremely dangerous and was undertaken because it was thought that another day's

delay would make it impossible to cross for many days. Arriving safely in Ripley,

father was invited by James Pogue to accept the hospitality of his home until such

time as his goods and horse could be gotten across the river, which was full of ice

for three weeks.⁶ So New Year's night, 1822, was spent in a free state with no

definite plan as to what the future would be.

"Ripley was a small village laid out by Col. James Pogue to which his nephew,

George Pogue, made an addition. It was, at the time of father's arrival, the seat of

justice for Brown County. There was a small Presbyterian church there which was

without a pastor. This church was an offshoot of the Red Oak Presbyterian Church,

located in a farming community five miles from Ripley. The town was first named

Staunton after Colonel Pogue's former home in Virginia. But since there was

another town in Ohio having the same name, it was changed to Ripley in honor

of General [Eleazer Wheelock] Ripley. Colonel Pogue invited father to preach on

the Sabbath, which he did, and at the close of the evening service the church

unanimously gave him a call for one-half of his time as pastor, conditioned on the

Strait Creek Presbyterian Church taking the other half. Accordingly he preached

the following Sabbath for that church, and at the close of the second service, held

in the afternoon, that church unanimously gave him a call for the other half of

 

5. The "financial condition" referred to was a result of the Panic of 1819 when United States

banks generally suspended specie redemption of their notes. Rankin here overestimates the prevalence

of the use of money; payment within a barter system, even in prosperous times, was typical of west-

ern states in the 1810's. See, for example, William T. Utter, The Frontier State, 1803-1825 (Carl

Wittke, ed., The History of the State of Ohio, II, Columbus, 1942), 265.

6. Pogue, a former Virginian, had "laid out" the town in 1812; History of Brown County, Ohio

(Chicago, 1883), 415-416. Ripley's population in 1820 was 421; Census for 1820 (Washington, 1821), 34.

• 5
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                  23

his time. This joint pastorate at the salary of $500, father accepted to date from

January 1, 1822.

"The church at Ripley was quite weak as to numbers. It owned an unfinished

brick building having only roof, windows, and a rough floor. . . . The church was

in debt for the building. The town was small; a large pond of water and a deep

ravine divided it near the center. It was located on a bank sixty feet above low

water of the Ohio. The majority of the inhabitants were openly immoral. Infidelity,

atheism, and drunkenness had the ascendance. Presbyterianism, Christianity, and

the new pastor were openly cursed in the streets. The coffee houses, as the liquor

saloons were then called, quadrupled in number the other places of business and

dominated the public sentiment. During that first winter father preached against

their vices and labored with them personally but scarcely any except the few mem-

bers attended. So long as father remained in Colonel Pogue's and his son's homes,

he was not molested beyond being publicly cursed as he passed along the streets.

But in the spring when he moved to a small log house on Second Street, the baser

sort would gather night after night and wait until they heard the singing which

was the introductory exercise of the morning and evening worship of the family.

Then they would howl and beat on tin pans and on the door, making a horrid

din while the service lasted. This continued at greater or lesser intervals for three

years. It seemed to be a question of endurance as to who should hold out the

longest, father or the rabble. These night scenes were indelibly impressed upon my

memory.

"The Strait Creek Church was eight miles from Ripley. Its members were farm-

ers and it was weak in numbers and means. The salary was chiefly paid in produce

from the farms. The house of worship was a capacious log building and stood near

a spring in a heavy forest. At first the attendance averaged about fifteen. To quote

my father's words, 'By a pastoral visitation on all the families, wicked and profane,

pious and moral, praying with them and with much earnestness urging them to

attend to their eternal interests, the attendance steadily increased until the large

house was well filled.' During the years he served them there was a continuous

revival, and from year to year large additions were made to the membership.

"But this was not the record of the church at Ripley though there was the same

persistent visitation of all the families, the same earnest personal appeals, the same

presentation of the Gospel from the pulpit. Only a few gathered in one corner of

the unfinished house, sitting on hard planks laid on tressels, and some of those did

not behave well during the service. Father's earnest reproval of the vices of the

people did not add to his popularity and was made the occasion for cursing him

in the street when he passed. The young people grew more and more immoral;

no advance was made in the church in spirituality while the village was steadily

increasing in vice and immorality. Fighting and shooting in the streets was not an

unusual occurrence. The building of his house, 25 x 60 feet in area, was made the

occasion for a fresh outbreak as it was an indication of his purpose to abide in the

town. Every time he passed the saloon on his way to procure materials for his

building the rabble would rush out and insult him with the most obscene profanity.

Matters began to ripen. Theft was a common cause of complaint. Men were accused

of selling their wives' clothes for whiskey. Idleness was the habit of many, and

numbers of families were on the verge of starvation as a result of drunkenness and

idleness. On a certain Sabbath father portrayed the results of such conduct and

told them that they might expect that there would be abused wives, starving,

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24                                                            OHIO HISTORY

ignorant children, with many spending the end of this life in the penitentiary or

on the gallows, and meeting in the life to come damnation.

"For three years there was no apparent goal accomplished, only going from bad

to worse, and father was so discouraged that his resignation was written to be pre-

sented the last Sabbath of his third year, but my mother induced him to delay for

a few months. About that time several of the leading infidels died quite suddenly.

One of the most violent of them had purchased some oil of vitriol and put the vial

containing it in his vest pocket and forgot to take it out when he went home. An

hour or two after, desiring to take a horseback ride, he mounted a young horse

which was not well broken and was thrown by it to the street. The vial was broken,

and there was added to the pain resulting from the internal injury that caused his

death, the burning of the vitriol. He had forgotten the vitriol, and, supposing it to

be a special judgment from God, he began to pray most earnestly for Divine

mercy. When, however, he discovered the cause of the burning, he commenced to

curse God in the most profane manner and in a few hours he died. The scene

filled his friends with horror and alarm.

"The second Sabbath following his death was the regular time for the celebra-

tion of the Lord's Supper by the church, services to commence Friday evening as

was the custom, to continue through Monday, closing the evening of that day. A

neighboring minister was invited to assist father. On this occasion it was Rev. W.

L. McCall, then pastor of a Presbyterian church in Augusta, Kentucky, a small

village on the Ohio River ten miles below Ripley. He accepted the invitation but

was taken ill and could not come. Father expected him up to within an hour of

the service when he received by a messenger a note informing of Mr. McCall's

illness but saying he would try to be with him Monday evening. I have frequently

heard father speak of the despondent feeling of that hour. He had no preparation

nor time for it. The services were unusually discouraging, only a very few of the

small number that usually attended were present. The usual morning service of

Monday was suspended but an appointment was made for Mr. McCall for Mon-

day evening. Supposing he had come and was stopping with Colonel Pogue, father

went to the church at the hour of service and learned that Mr. McCall had failed

to come. Quite a respectable number were there to hear the stranger. In sadness

father had to officiate and without any previous thought he selected Revelations

3:20: 'Behold I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear my voice and open

the door, I will come in to him and sup with him and he with me.' He spoke of

God's manner of knocking and spoke of the sudden death of so many of the wicked.

. . . He closed with an earnest appeal to receive Christ before it became too late.

Some of the audience were deeply moved and father was encouraged to continue

the service the following evening. At the close of that service several publicly pro-

fessed conviction. The services were continued every evening without any assistance

for two weeks, closing on the Sabbath when thirty united with the church on pro-

fession of faith. The services were then continued for two more weeks without any

assistance whatever when twenty more joined. The four weeks' effort had so ex-

hausted father's energy that he was compelled to close the meetings. Fifty had

united with the church on confession. To quote father, 'It was a conversion, not

a revival. The church was not revived, it seemed as it was dead up to the close

of the meetings. I have witnessed many revivals in church since that time. For

many years after that time Ripley was famous for good morals.' That ingathering

was remarkable in other respects. It transformed the church into an active moral

• 7
 

force in that community. The new members became lifelong faithful workers in Christ's vineyard and in many a revival were efficient co-workers with the pastor. They were father's staunch supporters through the forty-two years of his pastorate in Ripley that followed the date of their conversion. "In the fall of 1823 father moved into his own house. The building was con- structed so as to make three tenements. We occupied one of the end tenements. The other end was afterward finished and was occupied by Mr. David Amen. His family used the lower part, and his printing office occupied the upper part of the building. The center tenement was never finished beyond the floors, while father owned the property. Mr. Amen published and edited a newspaper called the Castigator. My father's brother, Thomas Rankin, had settled as a merchant in Middlebrook, Virginia, and became a slaveholder, the [only] one of my grand- father's sons that ever owned a slave. The information of his brother's ownership of slaves so disturbed my father that he [was] prompted to advise him in a series of letters setting forth by facts and arguments the cruelty and sinfulness of slavery. These letters were published each week in the Castigator. Mr. Amen was a staunch antislavery man. A copy of the paper was sent to Thomas Rankin. "Mr. Amen reprinted those letters in book form in an edition of 1000 copies. The sheets were sent to the bindery of Mr. Cox in Maysville, Kentucky, on the Ohio River nine miles above Ripley. Father had at that period (1825) several warm antislavery friends in Maysville, among them were Mr. Cox and Mr. Grant, an uncle of Gen. U. S. Grant. The title of the book was Rankin's Letters on Slavery. The first five hundred copies father put into circulation by gift. The second five hundred, when finished, were temporarily stored by Mr. Cox in a private ware- house in Maysville until he could get time to box and ship them. In the mean-

• 8
 

26                                                                OHIO HISTORY

 

time the copies in circulation made no little stir among slaveholders. The warehouse

where the five hundred copies were stored was set on fire and the books were

burned. This was in the summer of 1825. . . . (p. 18-27)

"Father was not able to issue a second edition of his book. In 1830, a Quaker

in New Jersey wrote to father asking permission to reprint it. Father replied, that

he had but one purpose in publishing the book: the destruction of American slav-

ery. If he or any others thought that the book would do good in that direction,

they had his permission to publish as many editions as they chose. Accordingly, the

Society of Friends in New Jersey published the second edition under the title

Rankin on Slavery. Under that title three editions were published in England and

five by the American Anti-Slavery Society, making ten editions in all. William

Lloyd Garrison came into possession of a copy of the second edition, the perusal

of which induced him to advocate the abolition of slavery, and soon after he com-

menced the publication of his paper, the Liberator. He republished the book in that

paper in weekly installments. Mr. Garrison and father had a warm discussion for

and against the adoption of a series of resolutions introduced by Mr. Garrison in

an antislavery convention held in Cincinnati in 1853.⁷ The president of the con-

vention, Mr. Samuel Lewis, interrupted Mr. Garrison, who in a reply to father,

was using some language bordering on the personal, and said that he feared that

the warmth of the debate would result in the alienation of principal speakers for

and against the resolutions then before the convention and said he felt it would be

a calamity for two such champions of the antislavery cause as Rev. John Rankin

and William Lloyd Garrison to have bitterness of feeling toward each other as a

result of this discussion.

"Mr. Garrison replied, 'It is out of the range of my purpose to be personal in

my remarks. I have too great a respect for Mr. Rankin to wound his feelings and

I am confident he is too loyal a Christian to wound mine. But, Mr. President,

there is back of all this a filial reason for my being careful not to wound him. He

is my antislavery father; his book on slavery was the cause of my entering the

antislavery conflict.'

"He then related the facts above stated. At the close of the debate, and after

rejection of the resolution by the convention, Mr. Garrison arose and presented

father with a copy of his book containing selections of his writings and speeches,

on the fly-leaf of which was written, 'Presented to Rev. John Rankin with the

profoundest regards and loving veneration of his anti-slavery disciple and humble

co-worker in the cause of emancipation, William Lloyd Garrison, Cincinnati, O.

April 21, 1853.'

"The effect of the letters on the mind of Thomas Rankin was such that he

brought his slaves to Ohio and emancipated them and provided them with homes

a few years later in Louisville, Kentucky, where they became quite well off finan-

cially.

"On January 1, 1829, my father accepted the call from the Presbyterian Church

of Ripley for the whole of his time, thus dissolving his seven years connection

with the Strait Creek Presbyterian Church. In the meantime, the small village of

7. See Daily Cincinnati Gazette, April 20-24, 1853. The argument is not reported, but most prob-

ably Rankin, as did others, objected to resolutions proposed by Garrison which stated that the slave-

holding states should be "excommunicated" from the Union, that abolitionists should refrain from

political participation in a government that condoned slavery, and that any church which admitted

slaveholders should be cut off.

• 9
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                 27

 

Georgetown had grown up two miles distant from that church and the seat of

justice for Brown County being removed from Ripley to that place, since it was

more central, the Strait Creek Church was moved to that town and changed its

name to that of the Presbyterian Church of Georgetown. It had grown strong

enough to support a pastor for the whole of his time. For that reason father re-

signed, preferring to preach two sermons in Ripley at less salary.

"When the county seat was removed from Ripley a large unfinished brick build-

ing erected for a courthouse was left unoccupied. At father's suggestion, the legis-

lature of Ohio was asked to authorize Brown County officials to sell that building

and also to grant a charter for Ripley College. During the 1827 session both re-

quests were granted and father was made president of the board of trustees by the

act. They bought the building and completed fitting it up for college purposes,

and in 1829 the college was opened under the presidency of Mr. Nathan Brockway

of New York. It was remarkably prosperous under his management. The roll of

student's reached 250 in attendance. A number were from Mississippi and Louisi-

ana as well as Kentucky and Tennessee. About the last of 1831 a colored youth

was given to father on one condition-that he would educate him for the ministry

as he was a member of the Presbyterian church. The Presbytery Chillicothe of

which father at that time was a member, agreed to bear part of the expense of

Benjamin F. Templeton, the Negro in question, and directed that he be sent to

Ripley College. For a time things went smoothly, not even the students from the

South objecting to a Negro entering a college class. After a month or more a

drunken citizen of the town, Frank Show, whose father owned a small distillery

located two miles from the village, sent President Brockway a note demanding the

dismissal of the 'nigger' from the college. He said that as his brother was too

poor to go to college, a 'nigger' should not, and he threatened to cowhide the

'nigger' if he was not turned out. For a time President Brockway or Professor

Simpson went with Templeton to and from college. It was thought finally that as

no violence was offered, Templeton might come and go without molestation. The

second day, as he was on his way from the college, Show met him in the street

and severely cowhided him. Show was arrested and fined, and few sympathized with

him, but a great excitement in and out of the college was the result. Students and

citizens took sides for or against Templeton's continuance in the college. The

pressure was so great, and the threatened withdrawal of the southern students

compelled the trustees to decide whether the colored student should be allowed

to remain. A majority of the board favored his dismissal. To prevent the board

from taking such action which would not be acceptable to those on whom the

college must largely depend for patronage, father said that if they would not take

any action whatever, he would withdraw Templeton and instruct him at his own

home. The trustees accepted that way out of the difficulty. Father, while he was

opposed to the trustees dismissing Templeton, hoped to save the college from the

stigma a dismissal would produce in the minds of liberal men. President Brockway

died of cholera in 1832. Professor Simpson succeeded him. After his resignation

father was chosen president. During his administration the college took on a new

life, but the double duty of pastor of a large church and president of the college

was too much for his strength. His health was being seriously undermined, and his

physician said he must abandon one or the other or finally both. He therefore

resigned, and Rev. Mr. Taylor was chosen his successor. At Mr. Taylor's death

• 10
 

28                                                                 OHIO HISTORY

the college ceased to exist. Mr. Whitmore taught an academy in the college build-

ings for two years.⁸ It was there that U. S. Grant was attending when he was

appointed to fill a vacancy at West Point. . . ." (p. 27-30)

Other boyhood memories of Lowry Rankin are more typical of youth, such as

the Ripley custom of gathering on the river bank whenever a steamboat passed,

or the excitement of a feud between two local familes, or the suffering in the

1832 cholera epidemic, or even a "remarkable migration of gray squirrels from

the south to the north." At the age of ten, Lowry, when not in school began work

in a new woolen mill in Ripley for 12 1/2 cents per day. During the winter of 1829-

30 there was a revival in Ripley's Presbyterian church, and, though only fourteen,

the boy decided to become a candidate for admission to membership. He described

his experience in this way: "How vividly to this day I remember how I trembled

as I sat in the presence of those six men whose solemn faces looked down upon

me. . . . They were not prepared to see children apply. . .," but Lowry successfully

passed the examination and was admitted as a member. (p.33-34, 37-38)

Both John and Jean Rankin urged their son throughout his teens to enter the

ministry, but the youth felt he was definitely not called to this service. Instead,

he said he wished "to engage in some mechanical pursuit." (p.⁴0-⁴1) During his

senior year at Ripley College (which was more on the level of an academy than a

college), young Rankin realized that if he continued straight through to graduation,

he would be only seventeen when he finished school--too young to enter any pro-

fession. He therefore urged his father to allow him to serve for a time as an ap-

prentice to his uncle, a local "architect and carpenter," before he completed his

schooling at Ripley. The father reluctantly agreed, but still urged his son to enter

the ministry. The contract agreed to with his uncle, William McNishie, was to

be in effect until Lowry was nineteen. (p.40-42)

As noted previously, Lowry was born into a family holding antislavery views,

based largely on religious grounds. The youth himself was an abolitionist, but

until 1834 he was not strong enough in his convictions to feel the necessity of

taking a firm stand on the issue. In that year occurred the "event. . . that changed

all [his] plans and revolutionized the whole purpose of [his] life":⁹

"I had been working all summer and fall on the cabin of the steamer, Fairplay.

We did not build a steamer as quickly then as now. Then everything had to be

wrought out by hand from the flooring to the most delicate moulding. As was

natural, the conversation would be largely about boats and boat building. A ru-

mor reached us that there was being built in Pittsburgh, for the Cincinnati and

New Orleans trade, a steamer twice as large as any boat then on the Ohio and

Mississippi rivers. Everyone was anxious to see the big steamboat which was named

Uncle Sam. . . .

"[In December 1834] the steamer referred to lay at our town wharf, and I went

with the others to visit her and examine her construction. As I enjoyed working

on the cabin of a new steamer, I visited that part of the vessel first, then, after a

careful inspection, visited the lower deck, and on going aft of the engine room an

 

8. Until 1849; History of Brown County, 426. Rankin is in error; Ripley College became an

academy in 1832 or 1833. Ibid See also Henry Howe, Historical Collections of Ohio (Cincinnati,

1854), 71-72.

9. Other abolitionists have written of similar shocking experiences which caused them to espouse

the cause of antislavery. See Merton L. Dillon, Benjamin Lundy and the Struggle for Negro Freedom

(Urbana, Ill., 1966), 5.

• 11
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                     29

unexpected scene came to view. Two groups of slaves, about twenty-five in each,

were chained to the sides of the deck, the men on my left and the women on my

right. Two long chains extended from the forward to the rear of each side of the

steerage deck. The ends were bolted to the sides of the boat about four feet above

the deck floor. To these chains, at about equal distances apart, were attached

twenty-five shorter chains with a handcuff attached to the loose end. The hand-

cuff was locked on the wrist of the right arm of each slave. The short chain was

just long enough to enable the slave to sit or lie down on the deck, and in weight

and size was that of the ordinary chain used in plowing with horses. No seat or

bed was provided; they were compelled to use the deck floor. When I came on

the scene, some were sitting as best they could on the floor, others were lying

down, and some were standing. It was an unpleasant picture. The men were of

sullen countenance, and the women appeared to be stricken with a hopeless grief.

Farther from me at my right at the extreme end of the long chain was a woman,

young, not more than twenty. She had a pretty face; it might with propriety be

called beautiful. She had long, fine, wavy shiny black hair put up with care and

taste, and she was as white as any woman of my acquaintance, requiring the closest

scrutiny to detect the least touch of African blood. I said to myself, 'Can it be

possible that she is a slave, bound for a Southern slave mart to stand on the auc-

tion block and be knocked down by some brutal auctioneer to the highest bidder?

Yes, that handcuff and chain proclaim that she is a slave, a young woman, beau-

tiful in feature and form that has no more rights of person and soul than the

beasts of the field.'

"As I leaned against a stanchion for support, I asked myself why let all my

sympathies be expended upon that one woman. Were the women, her companions

in slavery, though they be of a darker hue than she, any less the daughters of

the Lord Almighty? Were they not as well as their white sisters the objects of

Christ's redeeming love? For a time all I had forgotten of Theodore Welch's

[Weld's] descriptions a few weeks before of the horrors of American slavery came

vividly to my mind as I looked at the picture before me.¹⁰ Yet, I might have gone

away with my dislike of slavery a little more intensified and nothing more had I

not caught a fragment of a conversation between two men who were approaching.

"The words I heard were, 'Ain't she a beauty!' The men passed by me, scarcely

noting my presence, and stopped in front of the woman I have just described. One

of the men was coarse and hard featured. He carried in his hand a small rawhide

cane which could be used in the place of the common 'rawhide.' He was the owner

of the slave and had the usual characteristics of the 'negro trader,' fond of whiskey,

rough, profane and unchaste in conversation, brutal, and passionate in disposition.

They were a class of men that were a product of slavery, dreaded by the slaves

and despised by the slaveholders. He wore heavy woolen clothes, the trousers

loosely pushed into the tops of cowhide boots with heavy soles. His hair was worn

long in regulation style and was topped by the broadbrimmed hat of the Southern

'Overseer.' The other was a tall, well-dressed young man, not bad in feature, pass-

ably good looking, with a little outcropping of the sensual. Under proper influences

 

 

 

10. In Slavery As It Is (New York, 1839) Theodore Weld graphically recounted the horrors of

American slavery; apparently Rankin had heard him speak on the same topic. See also, Gilbert

Hobbs Barnes, The Antislavery Impulse, 1830-1844 (New York, 1933), 73.

• 12
 

30                                                            OHIO HISTORY

he might be an honorable, moral man who would command the respect of the

good. I gathered from the conversation that he was a single man, engaged in some

business in New Orleans, and the son of a Southern planter. His conversation was

free of profanity and obscenity. As far as the circumstances would admit, I inferred

from the first part of the conversation that he had some conscience about the

propriety of the business in hand, the purchase of the woman.

"I decided not to leave my post but to watch the transaction. The trader used

the vilest language, proposing the woman as a mistress for the young man and

insisting she was worth more than he asked, $2500, and swearing he could get

$3000 for her in New Orleans. He knew young men, he said, who would jump to

get such a well-made and good looking woman as she was.

"All the time she had her face covered with her hands and was crying as if her

heart would break. The other women were crying also, and more than one man

muttered curses, and I saw clenched fists and angry eyes, all showing how help-

less they felt to protect the woman. As the trader, with an oath, said, 'No more

of that, you black sons of ---,' he struck the woman on the shoulder and ordered

her to take her hands from her face and stop her crying or he would half kill her.

She obeyed, and after a little more talk the young man offered $2000. This was

rejected at this stage of the proceedings, and the trader played what might be

called the last card in his game of debauchery. He asked the young man if he

was the only occupant of his stateroom, receiving an affirmative reply. He then

said, 'How fortunate. You have to go to your room by the door that opens on the

deck, and no one will be the wiser, and you can have a splendid time. It will cost

you nothing. I have paid her passage and bond.' The young man was evidently

tempted but shook his head. The trader then ordered the woman to unfasten

the front of her dress. She declined, but a stroke on the shoulder brought a re-

luctant obedience; a second expedited the work. When done, her hands lingered,

but pushing them away he exposed her bosom to view and induced the young man

to feel of her breast, then of her thighs. By this time the young man was carried

to the point of yielding, and, the money paid, the woman relieved of her chain,

followed her new master to his room.

"As I left the boat my indignation reached the boiling point over the wicked

transaction and, lifting my right hand toward the heavens, I said aloud, 'My God

helping me there shall be a perpetual war between me and human slavery in this

nation of which I am a member, and I pray God I may never be persuaded to

give up the fight until slavery is dead or the Lord calls me home.' I thought I

was alone with God in the evening gloom and was little started at hearing a young

friend call, 'Lowry, what is the matter, do I hear you swearing?' 'Yes, what of

it? I have taken a solemn promise that I will fight slavery until it is dead.' 'Oh,

that is all right, but I guess you will die long before slavery is killed,' was his

laughing reply as he left me. On reaching my uncle's, I found all the others had

been to supper, and my aunt had been waiting three-quarters of an hour for me,

wondering if I had gone to father's. I had no appetite, and uncle asked if I was

unwell. I said I had seen enough to make a strong man sick, much less a boy.

'What is that?' he asked, for he had not visited the boat. I simply replied, 'Fifty

chained slaves, borne like hogs to market, and I am angry.' 'Let not the sun go

down on your anger, my boy,' he replied. 'I guess, uncle, your advice has come

too late in the day, as aunt's patiently waiting supper for me testifies,' I laughingly

replied as I went to my room.

• 13
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                            31

 

"On entering my room     I sat down at the drafting board. I had on it an un-

finished draft of a stairway that was to be erected in a given imaginary space

where it would be very difficult to build one easy of ascent. I soon found I would

not work with any success; I could not apply my mind. The scene of the afternoon

would take possession of my thoughts in spite of every effort to concentrate the

mind on my drafting. I tried to read without success. I paced the floor saying,

'What of it, yes, that is the question, what of it?' I said to myself, 'Young man

you made today a most solemn vow before God. Now what are you going to do

about it? Will you settle down and drift with the popular current and be satisfied

with an expression of your abhorrence of slavery in idle words?' After a deep

struggle, I decided that I would give up my work when my apprenticeship was

over and enter the ministry when I had finished college and fight slavery as a

minister of Christ. I have never regretted that decision. In June, 1836, after hav-

ing completed my apprenticeship, I graduated from the college. . . ." (p. 43-49)

True to his strengthened conviction, Rankin planned to enter the seminary at

Andover, Massachusetts, but in 1836 his father suffered financial troubles. The

youthful abolitionist then decided to attend Lane Seminary in Cincinnati and

support himself with odd jobs. He enrolled at Lane in October 1836 with the

intention of taking a four-year course instead of the usual three. (p. 50-52)11 Typical

freshmanic dilemmas confronted the new student: he was unable to find a dormitory

room his first night; the building superintendent charged him five dollars for

readying his room-not the usual practice; he had an immediate confrontation with

the pro-slavery professor Rev. Baxter Dickinson; and the promised carpenter job

went to another student. (p. 52-58)12 The youthful seminarian, however, was

determined to stay at Lane "unless driven away by starvation." He secured a job

stripping the seed from broom straw, received his pay in potatoes, and "for eight

weeks . . . lived on salt water and potatoes alone." Relief came when he found a

permanent job in a broom factory for forty-five cents a day. Rankin was then

able to devote more time to his academic and abolitionist activities. (p.62-64)

At Lane, Rankin was somewhat of a "trouble-maker," and the sections of his

autobiography dealing with his seminary years are largely a recitation of his

problems with professors and rules he found illogical and degrading. He success-

fully defied the rule which required students to affiliate with the seminary church

"unless he was a member of a church other than Presbyterian or Congregational."

Rankin opposed this rule because one of the ruling elders in the church "owned in

Louisiana a large sugar plantation and five hundred slaves." Also, on his days as

class monitor, Lowry refused to record student absences because he regarded such

a practice as degrading to the members of the seminary. The practice of recording

 

11. The elder Rankin seems to have experienced chronic financial problems, the sources of which

are usually unclear. The embarrassment in 1836 was caused by the business failure of a relative

Rankin had backed using borrowed money. Lowry Rankin had preferred Andover to Lane because

the Cincinnati seminary's board of trustees had attempted to suppress free speech and abolitionist

activity among the students in 1834. See Francis P. Weisenburger, The Passing of the Frontier, 1825-

1850 (Carl Wittke, ed., The History of the State of Ohio, III, Columbus, 1941), 367-369. Rankin

planned a four-year program of study because he felt insufficiently prepared to enter the seminary

as a "regular" student during his first year-perhaps an indication of the academic standing of Ripley

College.

12. Rankin believed Dickinson opposed his four-year plan merely because the professor did not

wish to have abolitionists in the seminary. After an oral examination, Rankin embarked on a three-

year course.

• 14
 

absences at Lane was abandoned in 1837, and Rankin implies this resulted from his efforts. (p.64-68)13 Along a different line, Lowry and some of his classmates decided that student sermons on topics like "conscience," "the will," and "God's purpose" were tedious, so they resolved to add some "spice and life" to the weekly preaching exercises. Rankin, however, was the only one who actually carried through. His sermon was entitled, "Some Ways Students Pressed for Means May Meet Their Expenses and Have Something Left Over for Benevolent Purposes." Surprisingly, all the faculty but one agreed that the novel topic was interesting and useful. (p.75-80) That the Lane faculty and trustees were becoming more tolerant of innovation is indicated also by a second episode. In 1834 fifty-three students had left the semi- nary protesting the proscription of abolitionist literature and even dinner conversa- tion. By 1836, however, Lane accepted Rankin's Negro friend Benjamin F. Temple- ton and obviously took a more lenient attitude toward abolitionist activity in the school, as is indicated by the following excerpt: "Mr. Slade of Vermont delivered in the United States Senate an admirable speech on the slavery question which was published by the American Anti-Slavery Society for distribution. Mr. Blanchard [a fellow student] and I were anxious to procure several copies to distribute in the seminary and neighborhood. We there- fore, solicited funds to purchase the same. We were discussing the matter when Mr. Eley14 came in where we were and said, 'What new mischief are you two black abolitionists concocting now!' Blanchard replied, 'I will tell you. We want to 13. Almost as soon as he had entered Lane, Rankin was contacted by an agent of the under- ground railroad and asked to escort a runaway slave twenty-five miles to a Quaker sympathizer. His activities in this area continued throughout his stay in Cincinnati, and antislavery professors like Rev. Henry Ward Beecher encouraged Rankin to continue his "good work." 14. Eley was the "superintendent" at Lane who had caused Rankin so much difficulty during his first days there. Rankin felt Eley had given the carpenter job to another candidate because the super- intendent originally opposed Rankin's antislavery views.

• 15
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                    33

 

get some copies of Senator Slade's late speech in the Senate to distribute. As we

need the money to purchase them, we have been talking the matter over. Won't

you give us a little help in that line?' 'No, no, we have one nigger too many here

now,' referring to Templeton. 'If you fellows had your way, we would be overrun

with niggers for every nigger in the South, if set free, would come north.' This was

a common argument of the supporters of the institution of slavery living north of

the Mason and Dixon line and was thought to be unanswerable. It was based upon

a recognized fact that when a slave was emancipated, he came north. But those

using that argument failed to recognize the fact that it was slavery that drove them

[blacks] north. They came not from choice, but because the laws of the slave states

prohibited them from remaining in the South.

". . . I have stated that the senior class were required under the supervision of

the faculty to conduct the Sabbath evening exercises of the Seminary Church. The

chapel was usually well filled by those curious to hear the 'apprentice preachers,'

as the members of the seminary were called in the neighborhood. It neared the

time for Templeton's turn to officiate. I naturally felt some solicitude for the success

of his effort on that occasion. He was a full blooded Negro, tall, well built, of good

appearance and address. I had urged him to be thoroughly prepared, first for Christ's

sake, second, for the sake of his oppressed race, and lastly, for my father's sake, who

had done so much for him and his people.

"The prospect of having a 'nigger' preach created no little talk outside the

seminary circle and the curiosity to hear him was general. The expectation that

they would be amused at having crude thoughts put in the Negro dialect common

in the South was pretty generally entertained by those unacquainted with Temple-

ton. The looked-for evening came. Just before the service, I said a few encouraging

words, which he needed for he was an exceedingly diffident fellow. When I entered

the chapel, I saw that it was packed. Quite a number were from the city. Dr. [Calvin

Ellis] Stowe accompanied Templeton into the chapel and took a seat with him in

the pulpit. Dr. Biggs [a professor] and Dr. Dickinson sat on the platform. Pro-

fessor Stowe opened the service by an appropriate invocation and at the close said

Brother Templeton would conduct the further exercises of the evening, and then

took a seat on the platform with the other professors. Templeton read the hymn

and scripture admirably. There was a grace and dignity of manner that was not

excelled by any member of the class. His prayer was full of Christian fervor and

carried the audience with him. The text he had selected was John 3:16, 'For God

so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believeth in

him should not perish but have everlasting life.' The audience was held, as it were,

spellbound by the clearness of his thought, the logic of his reasoning, the eloquence

of his utterance, the ease and grace of his manner and purity of diction. I was

more than pleased at the effort produced and was full of thanksgiving to God that

father was fully justified for all the sacrifices he had made to fit Templeton for

the ministry.

"The next morning while passing from chapel to the dormitory, I heard some-

one calling me and saw Mr. Eley approaching. Grasping my hand he said, 'You

asked me for money the other day for your abolition cause. Here is ten dollars.

If you bring such another colored student, I will give you ten more. He did

splendidly, the best I have ever heard from a student in that chapel.' That night

Mr. Eley was converted to abolition and was one of my warmest friends ever after.

• 16
 

34                                                           OHIO HISTORY

 

He offered to give me work, which I respectfully declined because I was earning

in the broom factory more than he was authorized to give . . . ." (p. 68-71)

Rankin's antislavery activities in Cincinnati were his most important non-academic

pursuits while at Lane Seminary. Oftentimes requests from the underground rail-

road required the student to miss class, as he was frequently asked to escort a

former slave out of the Queen City. Rankin is candid about the difficulties he

faced, though it appears he most often was successful-apparently he was never

caught. The following passages, in addition to indicating some of the problems he

and his fellow Ohio abolitionists confronted, show the role played by blacks in

assisting slaves to freedom.

"There had been several mobs in Cincinnati during the summer of 1836 and

just before I entered the seminary. On account of the riots, timid people, though

their sympathies were antislavery, were not willing to be identified openly with

the agitation of that question. Only a few people were openly avowed abolitionists.

Some individuals outside of the city whom my father interested in the education

of the colored people employed [a] Miss Barker, rented a building, and opened a

school for the colored children. The laws of Ohio forbade the colored children

attending the public schools of the state and made no provision for separate schools

for them.¹⁵ Rev. and Mrs. Beardsley were with Miss Barker for a few weeks.

While Mr. Beardsley remained with her there was no disturbance of the school.

Their living rooms were over the school room. Mr. Beardsley accepted an appoint-

ment as missionary to the colored people of the island of Jamaica. As soon as it

was discovered he had gone away, the rabble commenced to disturb the school and

annoy Miss Barker. No family could be found willing to occupy the house with

her, and it was not just the proper thing for her to remain alone in the excited state

of the public mind, ready to exaggerate everything the antislavery people did.

Finally a plan was adopted for her protection. My oldest sister, Isabella Jane . . .

was to come to the city and take rooms with Miss Barker, and I was to look after

her welfare. This made it necessary to walk every afternoon three miles to the city

so as to be seen around the premises, returning after sunset to the seminary. This

had the desired effect, for the impression got out that I remained all night to pro-

tect my sister. No further disturbance occured. For want of funds the school was

closed April 1837.

"Some time in April 1837, a fugitive slave was sent to me for help by some

colored people. I was distressed to know what to do with him. I had no team [of

horses], and it was impossible to walk the distance I would have to go before the

morning so [I] would be in danger of being arrested. Besides, I was too unwell to

risk being out so long in the damp night air. It was equally impossible for me to

keep the runaway slave hidden until I could go. Finally I went to Professor Stowe

and frankly told him my difficulty. He entered heartily into the consideration of

the matter. After some conversation he said, 'Brother Rankin, you ought not to

be out in the night air; it is too damp for a man as unwell as you are. It is equally

true you cannot keep the poor fellow in safety this close to the city.' 'What can I

do,' I asked, 'but venture the going afoot? The risk would be less. I might not be

disturbed so early tomorrow morning if I kept to the wood. The Miami River we

will have to wade.' After some reflection Professor Stowe replied, 'No, you must

15. For specific data on the situation in Cincinnati, see Richard Pih, "Negro Self-Improvement

Efforts in Cincinnati, 1836-1850," Ohio History, LXXVIII (Summer 1969), 179-187.

• 17
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                    35

not do that. I see no other way out of the difficulty but for me to take my horse

and carriage and go myself. If you will give me specific directions as to the way,

I will try and make the trip.'

"There was no difficulty until he reached the Little Miami River. The ford was

a good one, but it was crooked. I therefore was particular in my instructions how

to follow it. The rain of the morning raised the water but not enough to endanger

the crossing if the driver was careful. Well, Dr. Stowe got off in good season, and

I went to bed with a fearful headache and burning fever. I was grateful to know

that I could depend upon Dr. Stowe in any future emergency, and I resolved not

to appeal to his Christian sympathy nor to involve him in any underground rail-

road work except in a case of forlorne hope. . . . (p. 71-72) This was the beginning

of three hundred such trips . . . while I was in the seminary. (p. 59)

"In the month of August 1837, a party of Negro hunters, prowling in the neigh-

borhood of Murraytown, Brown County, Ohio, kidnapped Eliza Jones Johnson, a

colored woman, and rushed her off to Kentucky. The alarm was given, and a few

young men of Sardinia, an adjoining town, started in pursuit on horseback to cap-

ture the kidnappers and rescue the woman. In passing through the farms of Red

Oak the pursuers obtained fresh horses and were reenforced by some of the farm-

ers' sons. The kidnappers were compelled to make quite a circuit to avoid the Red

Oak neighborhood and the town of Ripley, my father's home. Those in pursuit

hoped, by pushing on through Red Oak, to obtain fresh horses, and in Ripley to

obtain other assistance and push on down the bank of the Ohio River, cut off the

kidnappers, and prevent their getting across the river. In Ripley a writ of author-

ity to arrest the kidnappers was issued. From the route they had taken it was evi-

dent that they proposed to make the crossing at Levanna, a small village of a

dozen houses, two miles below Ripley. On the opposite Kentucky shore at this

point was the town of Dover. I did not learn of the affair in time to join in the

pursuit. Mr. W. J. [G.] Kephart¹⁶ had joined with the others and was so far in

advance, having a very fleet, as well as a fresh horse, that he would have reached

the ferry before the kidnappers and would have been able to prevent their cross-

ing but for an accident. He took a short cut down the river bank, and his horse's

feet caught in the root of a tree, causing the horse to fall and throw the rider, who

struck the hard, stony beach on his face, was very severely hurt. The kidnappers

saw the accident, raised a shout of victory, and two men, seizing the woman,

jumped into a small boat, dragging her with them, and pushed off just as those in

pursuit reached the ferry. They were too late to rescue the woman, but arrested all

but the two that got away with her. At first the kidnappers refused to be arrested

and drew their pistols, threatening to shoot whoever attempted their arrest. Just

at this moment the remainder of the pursuers, who had stopped to take care of

Kephart, arrived and seeing they were well armed, the kidnappers concluded that

discretion was the better part of valor and surrendered. They were brought to

Ripley for a preliminary trial. I rode out and met them about a mile from town.

Kephart was brought back in a wagon. He had recovered consciousness, and I saw

him safely home and then proceeded to witness the trial. While I was passing

through the Market House, I was stopped by half a dozen ruffians who had fol-

lowed the kidnappers just far enough behind not to be implicated. I was alone

and unarmed and decided that the best way out of the difficulty was to put on a

 

16. A local school teacher and friend of John Rankin.

• 18
 

36                                                           OHIO HISTORY

bold face. I therefore said I could not conceive there could be any danger from

men whose cowardice would not permit them to kidnap men but sent them sneak-

ing around until the husband was away and they could rush in and kidnap the

wife. 'She was a runaway nigger.' 'Oh, yes,' I said, 'that only makes the meanness

the more apparent. There is a legal way to return runaway slaves. That you know

would not be successful so you would steal a poor, helpless woman and sell her.

All woman thieves are cowards.' One of them rushed up to strike me. I stepped

aside, saying, 'Keep your hands off.' Just then some friends were seen approach-

ing. The fellows said to me as they came up, 'If you were not so little, I would

thrash your life out of you.' I replied, 'I am glad I am small, for I would rather

not have my life thrashed out by such polluting hands.' The friends told the fel-

lows the best thing they could do was to leave town as soon as possible. Four of

the kidnappers were committed for trial, and the others were escorted out of town

by a company of citizens and told not to return. Those committed were taken to

the county jail in Georgetown where they bailed out on straw bail and then

skipped the state. In the meantime the Negro woman was lodged in the Mason

County jail in Washington, Kentucky, to await a claimant.

"In the early part of the vacation of 1837 and just before I commenced to col-

lect for the Cincinnati Journal, I assisted a runaway slave as far as the Sinking

Springs station. He got through to Canada all right but was so anxious to have

his wife and four children with him that he hired a Canadian to go to Kentucky

and bring them to Canada. This man was directed to call upon me before going

into Kentucky. Accordingly he did so and asked my assistance in his plans. I

promptly declined to have anything to do with any attempt whatever to go into

a slave state to either induce the slaves to run away or help them there to get

away. He expressed great surprise as he was led to believe I would cheerfully aid

him. I said, 'In a free state I was most willing to do all in my power to assist a

fugitive from slavery. In Kentucky the penalty for such activity was certain to be

twenty-one years in the penitentiary.' I urged him to give up the attempt. That

night he borrowed a skiff and crossed over the river and left it tied to the opposite

side. He was gone a week, nothing was heard from him until Saturday night when

he appeared with the woman and children and two others, a man and his wife.

He said he went into the neighborhood where the woman lived and got a job cut-

ting wood, had an interview with her in the night, and arranged to meet her at a

certain point early Saturday night. She did so, bringing the others with her. They

took some horses and succeeded in reaching the river, but he had to return with

the horses before daylight. He left, and my brothers and I took them on our own

horses to a friend at Red Oak, five miles on, and got home at daylight. As the

owner lived only eight miles from the river, we did not deem it safe to keep them

about our premises over the Sabbath. We were wise in pushing them on as we

did, for on coming home from church we found the premises had been searched

for the fugitives. We learned the next day that they came very near being cap-

tured. That afternoon they had been removed to another hiding place not more

than half an hour before the hunters came to the place where we had left them.

That night they again came very near getting captured and only due to their hav-

ing fresh and better horses were they enabled to make their escape. In about two

weeks the Canadian came again with four more. I did not see him or them being

absent, but my brothers took them to the station near Mt. Leight [?], Adams

County, meeting with no interference. Again he went back and within a week

• 19
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                   37

brought two more but had some difficulty in getting through safely. They were

taken to Sardinia by some young men from Red Oak, who were visiting us. After

staying two or three days he went back a fourth time. Each time we urged him

not to go. The night after the kidnapping was foiled he brought six, and the night

following four more slaves. These he had to leave hidden as he did not have the

means for transporting so many at one time. These we left in the Red Oak settle-

ment. On going back the fifth time, he was arrested on suspicion of being engaged

in persuading slaves to run away and was put in jail. The loss of twenty-one

slaves in a radius of twenty miles in so few weeks made the people suspicious of

strangers. One Saturday night he managed to break jail and started north, bring-

ing with him, a few nights later, four more slaves, making twenty-five in all. His

experiences in jail on bread and water had satisfied his ambition, and he went

back to Canada with his last load, and we were thankful he did, for we were

afraid he would make us trouble. He went by an alias, even with us, refusing to

give his real name. While he was honest in his treatment of the fugitives, we were

doubtful of him in other respects so were glad when he returned to his native

land. . . ." (p. 82-86)

In 1841 the Rankin family was threatened and attacked by "some rough young

Kentuckians" who were also molesting the black people in the area:

"During the week Peter Driscol's slaves, who lived just above the town on the

opposite bank of the river, all ran away except a crippled old man. Men were seen

cautiously moving about at night on father's premises. Before the week closed the

old crippled slave had followed the example of the others. It was a great surprise

to Mr. Driscol for he had implicit confidence in his slaves. He treated them well

and often sent them to Ripley on errands. He often boasted that 'no Abolitionist,

not even "Uncle Johnny" (father) whom all niggers like, could persuade my nig-

gers to leave me.' It was generally believed that a gentleman, out of mere curios-

ity, asked one of Mr. Driscol's slaves in my presence why he did not stay now

that he was in Ohio. The Negro replied that he would not go away until the moon

fell, but evidently his slaves were not as loyal as Mr. Driscol imagined. They

were permitted to go where they chose when their work was done so they did a

large business on the underground railroad in Kentucky, helping fugitive slaves

and directing them where to go when they crossed the river. The reason they left

when they did was that they learned they were suspected and a demand would be

made on Driscol to send them south and sell them. Fearing he would be compelled

to do this, they forestalled the movement by running away. Mr. Driscol followed

them as far as Cleveland, where one of them seeing him, gave the alarm. They

were taken through alleys and byways and on board a schooner bound for a Cana-

dian port. Mr. Driscol reached the wharf in time to see his property, including the

cripple, climb up the schooner's sides and before he could get a writ sail away. He

came home very angry, and doubtless his anger had something to do with the

vandalism [we had experienced earlier] though I do not believe he instigated it.

But other less law-abiding persons made his loss a common cause, hence the tim-

bers were placed before the church doors [which were so balanced to fall on any-

one opening the door to go out].

"A reward of three thousand dollars were offered for father, dead or alive. All

through the week men were seen prowling about our premises at night, but, as

father had positively forbidden them to be molested unless seen to commit some

act of depredation, we only kept a watch on their movements. The following Sab-

• 20
 

38                                                         OHIO HISTORY

bath evening some young men kept a watch about the church so all was quiet.

After service my brother, Calvin, saw a young lady home as she was afraid to go

alone. On returning home he saw several young men from Kentucky in town and

told us what he saw and prophesied there would be trouble before morning. The

majority of the family, however, did not share his feelings. We had gotten accus-

tomed to such things. However, the usual precautions with such means as were at

hand were taken for defense.

"Calvin [a brother] and John P. Rankin, a nephew father was keeping, deter-

mined not to go to sleep. Accordingly, they pulled off only coats, vests, shoes and

socks and lay down on the bed. It was an August night, warm, overcast, and there-

fore very dark. The mistake was in taking off their shoes. The rest of the family

were soon asleep. About half past two the boys heard a low whistle and immedi-

ately slipped downstairs and out of the back door. Their movements awoke me.

Outside the house the boys separated. Calvin went around the north end, and

John took the longer route around the south end. Both being barefooted on the

grass they were not heard. Consequently, Calvin having the shorter route was at

the front corner before John got around the south end. At that corner he came

upon a man he had not seen and the man was equally surprised, not having heard

any one. Calvin demanded his business, and in reply he [the man] fired a shot

that passed over Calvin's left shoulder just cutting the skin a little. They were so

close that the powder from his pistol set Calvin's shirt afire. Calvin, seeing by his

movement that he intended shooting, endeavored to get in the shot first, the report

of his pistol following immediately upon that of the man. The man yelled, 'Oh,'

and ran.

"Another man was stationed at the south end of the house and hearing the

reports was on his guard as John, who had the farther distance to go, came upon

him. He fired on him as he turned the first corner but missed, and, seeing the

other man running, he also ran. As he was climbing the yard fence, John who was

following, fired a shot at him which took effect, as we afterward learned, entering

his back and passing through his shoulder blade. He gave an unearthly scream.

As some men came running from the town to their assistance and were firing at

him, John did not dare to follow him. Calvin, having put out the fire in his shirt,

also was hindered from following his man.

"In the meantime, hearing the two first shots, I jumped out of bed, jerked on

my boots and clothes and started for the door, when my wife [Amanda], following

me, threw her arms around my neck and clung to me like a vise, pleading with

me not to go out of the house. Before I could get released from her, my mother

ran in her night clothes and locked the door the boys had left open, kept the key,

and also got possession of the keys of the other outside doors and was standing

with her back against the front door when I reached it. By this time all the fam-

ily was up. My brothers pleaded with her to let us out. She would not listen to us.

She was sure that Calvin and John were killed and that the villains were watch-

ing the doors to shoot whoever attempted to go out, and she would have no boys

killed. Finding her determined, I left the other brothers with her and father who

had joined her in keeping the door closed saying we could do the dead no good

so our next duty was to preserve our own lives, and [I] forced open some windows

father had nailed down. All had been still for many minutes, and, when we suc-

ceeded in opening the window, I jumped out followed by Samuel, when the firing

commenced again in the orchard. It was evident that it was not Calvin and John

• 21
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                  39

who had been shot, for I recognized their voices demanding a surrender of those

they were pursuing. Samuel and I started to their assistance when I discovered a

fire built against the barn. Picking up a pail that happened to be full of water at

the cistern, I ran to the barn, followed by Samuel, threw water on the blaze and

put it out, kicking the kindling away and stomping out the remaining fire with my

boots. Had we been three minutes later, the fire would have reached the

unthreshed wheat stored in the barn and then we should have lost our entire crop

of wheat, oats, and hay with the barn, 125 x 80 feet in size and our house also

for a strong wind was blowing from the barn to the house.

"After we got out, mother and father let the others out. All the while a run-

ning fire was kept up in the orchard but steadily grew further away. The orchard

had been sown with wheat and the boys being barefooted could not travel fast in

the stubble. This enabled the marauders to get away with their wounded. The boys

followed on, however. By the time we were sure the fire was all out, full a hun-

dred young men and older ones, having heard the shooting, had hurried up from

the town. The younger men hastened with my younger brothers to join Calvin and

John. Before they could be reached, the Kentuckians reached their boats and

escaped, taking the wounded with them. Before those in pursuit got back, full

three hundred more men from town arrived. Calvin's and John's feet were pretty

well used up by the time they got back. . . .

"That week father published a warning in the town paper in which he said he

had heretofore prohibited the molestation of any one seen on his premises unless

actually seen in wrongdoing. That while he was a man of peace, he felt it as

much a duty to shoot down the midnight assassin as to pray. Those hereafter seen

prowling about his premises after bedtime did so at their own risk for they cer-

tainly would be shot at. Never was a man seen prowling on our premises after

that warning. . . ." (p. 117-122)

Rankin's last two years at Lane Seminary saw an expansion of his abolitionist

activities and continued altercations with the conservative members of the school's

faculty. In his second year he became an official "conductor" on the underground

railway and a member of the secret Fugitive Slave Vigilance Committee, whose

president was Levi Coffin. The committee was organized specifically to aid escaped

slaves, several having been recaptured in Cincinnati "because there had been no

concerted action on the part of the friends of the fugitives." In addition to his

underground activities, Rankin became in January 1840 the publishing agent of

the Ohio Anti-Slavery Society. Also, by this time he earned his board by manag-

ing the school's dining facility--which he handled very efficiently. In June 1840

Rankin was graduated from Lane and was licensed "to preach the Gospel of Jesus

Christ during life on earth" by the Presbytery of Cincinnati. In the following Sep-

tember he married his home-town sweetheart Amanda Kephart of Ripley, men-

tioned in the preceding episode. (p. 90, 91-92, 97-98)

Lowry Rankin was never a powerful political figure in antislavery circles, but

his moral position on the question of slavery did find political expression. In Sep-

tember 1840 he attended a convention of antislavery men in Hamilton where the

Liberty party of Ohio was organized. Although the platform adopted by the party

was moderate, Rankin's activities in this area point up the great divisions within

antislavery circles at the time. Though Gamaliel Bailey, editor of the Philanthro-

pist, later supported the Liberty party ticket, he originally strongly opposed the

• 22
 

40                                                                 OHIO HISTORY

naming of a separate ticket.17 Rankin's father, much better known than his son

for abolitionist efforts, never supported the new party, and young Rankin's work

for the party caused friction within the Ripley household.¹⁸ (p. 103-110)

"The Whig party convention nominated as their candidate for President, Gen-

eral William Henry Harrison and John Tyler for Vice-President. I had become

personally acquainted with Mr. Harrison and admired the manly stand he had

publicly taken in favor of the use of the Bible in the public schools. His nomina-

tion was very acceptable to me, but the tacking on the ticket of a man who had

never been in sympathy with the Whig party and who was a slaveholder simply

to enable the party to carry Virginia in the coming national election was a selling

out to catch votes and was very repugnant to my ideas of manliness and honesty.

Over and above this was the fact that Mr. Tyler was a slaveholder who was con-

spicuous in his denouncement of the antislavery movement. While I therefore

would have been glad to cast my vote for Mr. Harrison, under the present system

of voting for electors, instead of the candidates direct, it was impossible to sepa-

rate a vote for Mr. Tyler from one for Mr. Harrison. In voting for the one I neces-

sarily voted for the other. For these reasons I could not vote the Whig ticket. The

Democratic ticket was in the same condition. Richard M. Johnson, a slaveholder

of Kentucky, was nominated with Martin Van Buren, hoping to carry that state

which, being the home of the Great Compromiser, Henry Clay, was heretofore

under his popular leadership, Whig.

"The position I at first had taken was not to go to the polls. My friends were

grieved at my proposed position. They asserted that 'God in his kind Providence

had put in every man's hand the elective franchise, and it was his duty to use it

to the best of his ability for the best interests of the whole people. Not to do so

was both cowardly and a betrayal of the trust God had put in my hands.'

"This was the major portion of their argument which had great weight in my

canvassing my duty in the premises. But it did not clear away the difficulty or

remove the serious objection to both tickets. Up to this time I was a Whig. So the

minor proportion of their argument was pressed to meet my difficulty. 'Where two

evils confront a man it is his duty to choose the lesser.' I was not prepared to

accept this statement. I was not alone in my difficulty. Hon. Thomas Morris was

at the time representing the state of Ohio in the U. S. Senate, a lifelong Demo-

crat and warm personal friend of Martin Van Buren and supporter of his admin-

istration, on antislavery grounds objected to Richard M. Johnson and declined to

support the Democratic ticket. Finally, a convention was called to meet in Hamil-

ton, Ohio, in September 1840. I resigned my position as publishing agent of the

Ohio Anti-Slavery Society the first of September, and the society transferred the

Philanthropist to Gamaliel Bailey, M. D., who, as proprietor and editor, was per-

sonally responsible for its publication. This change was deemed the wisest and

best as the executive committee could not agree as to the position the paper should

17. The Liberty party had been organized at a convention in Warsaw, New York, in 1839; its

first national convention was held at Albany, April 1, 1840. The Ohio Liberty party grew out of dis-

satisfaction with the 1840 nominees of the Whigs and Democrats. At the convention in Hamilton,

antislavery men voted 57 to 34 to support the Liberty party nominee James G. Birney. Several lead-

ing abolitionists--Leicester King, president of the Ohio Anti-Slavery Society, Benjamin Wade, and

Joshua R. Giddings--refused to support the party. Birney received only 892 votes in Ohio. Weisen-

burger, Passing of the Frontier, 385-386; Philanthropist (Cincinnati), September 8, 1840.

18. John Rankin's opposition to the creation of an antislavery political party is discussed in a

series of letters to the Philanthropist, June 30, August 4, September 8, 15, 1840.

• 23
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                   41

take in the coming presidential election. It would leave Dr. Bailey, its able editor,

untroubled, and the society relieved of the responsibility for his utterances . . . .

(p. 102-103)

"The Monday following [his maiden sermon in his father's pulpit], procuring a

horse from my brother, David, I started about noon on horseback in company

with Rev. Dyer Burgess, to attend the convention referred to above. It was called

to meet on Tuesday at 2 p.m. We, therefore, had to ride pretty hard to reach

Hamilton in time to be at the opening. By riding hard until Monday night and

starting at 5 a.m. Tuesday, we reached our destination at noon. The convention

was convened at the appointed time and temporary officers appointed. A commit-

tee on credentials was chosen, and to my surprise I was appointed chairman of the

same. It was an unsolicited and an unexpected honor. We had a much more diffi-

cult task than we anticipated. . . .

"Wednesday the convention got down to the consideration of the business stated

in the Call. Hon. Thomas Morris, U. S. Senator, offered a preamble, reciting the

hostile attitude of the two political parties to the agitation of the question of slav-

ery in the United States. The Democratic party in convention declared that they

would not permit any interference with slavery in any form whatsoever. The Whig

convention was not prepared to take as radical ground as the Democratic party,

but they did say they would discourage the agitation of the antislavery movement

by every honorable and legitimate means in their power. The preamble was fol-

lowed by a series of resolutions concerning the action of both parties; declaring

nothing was to be expected of either; affirming that the emancipation of the

slaves was the paramount question before the American people; admitting that

under the Constitution Congress had no control over slavery in the slave states;

that in the District of Columbia and territories, Congress did have such jurisdic-

tion and that it ought to abolish it in the one and prohibit it in the others; and,

finally, that the time had come in which it was the duty of the opponents of slav-

ery to oppose its further extension and to put in nomination candidates for Presi-

dent and Vice-President who would represent those sentiments. Mr. Morris moved

the adoption of the resolutions and Dr. Bailey seconded him. Someone moved the

preamble and resolutions and Dr. Bailey seconded him. Someone moved the pre-

amble and resolutions be laid on the table. Cries of 'No, no,' all over the house

caused the withdrawal of that motion. The convention evidently was not in the

mood to apply a gag rule. Senator Morris opened the discussion of the preamble

and resolutions and ably urged their adoption. The debate was extended through

Wednesday evening. The preamble and resolutions with a few verbal amendments

were adopted Wednesday afternoon, except the last resolution declaring it the

duty of the convention to nominate candidates for President and Vice-President.

A large number of the members of the convention were opposed to a nomination

being made and took the position that not voting for any candidate was the best

plan to bring about a change of the attitude of one or the other party, the Whig

party being the most hopeful one. The discussion grew warm as the Thursday

afternoon session opened. Rev. Joshua Leavitt of New York City obtained the

floor and made the [most] forceable speech in the convention. He showed that

nothing whatever could be expected of either party, and it was the duty of anti-

slavery men to organize a third party. His speech carried with him many, who,

like myself, were not quite satisfied with the stay-at-home policy and convinced

• 24
 

42                                                          OHIO HISTORY

 

us that a manly thing to do was to put in the field such men as were loyal to the

cause of human freedom.

"At the close of Mr. Leavitt's speech, which was listened to with profound atten-

tion, my friend Rev. Dyer Burgess obtained the floor and moved the discussion to

be closed. The motion was seconded. Before taking his seat, he asked the indul-

gence of the convention one moment to correct a mistake. He said, 'All the speak-

ers talk about the organization of a third party. I desire to correct the numbering.

The Whig party is number one and the Democratic party is number two. Number

three is the great Anaconda party, Slavery. The wiley old serpent has coiled

around and around number one and number two until he has crushed their back

bones, covering them with the slime of slavery, but he is not satisfied so he is lick-

ing his chops for the fourth party, the Liberty party.' He then sat down amid

laughter and cheers. His unique way of saying it and accompanying gestures more

than the words put the convention in excellent humor, and the motion to close the

discussion was carried without a dissenting vote. The question on the adoption of

the resolution was called for, and the vote was taken by a call of the roll of dele-

gates. The result of the vote was only a majority of seven in favor of the resolu-

tion to nominate.

"When my name on the roll was reached, half a dozen or more objected to my

voting on the ground of my not being of legal age to vote in the coming national

election. I was not surprised at the objection for I was quite boyish in appearance

and in a pleasant way replied that it was my good fortune to look so young but

my birth date back to the year 1816 and presuming the members of the conven-

tion were good at figuring, they could ascertain my age without my assistance. In

the midst of the laughter that followed there were calls of 'Mr. Rankin's a voter

in Cincinnati,' 'He will do,' 'Take his vote,' 'Proceed with the roll call.' I voted in

favor of the resolution. When the result was known, nearly half the members of

the convention left. A good deal of anger was exhibited by those that left at the

result. None of the officers left.

"A recess for noon was taken after a committee on nominations was appointed

by the chairman, also a committee on platform of principles. After recess the com-

mittee reported a statement of principles which, after some discussion and unim-

portant amendments, was adopted. Rev. D. Burgess moved that the party just

organized be known as 'The Liberty Party.' The motion was unanimously adopted.

Three hearty cheers were given for the 'Liberty Party.'

"The committee on nominations next reported the names of Judge James G.

Birney of Michigan for President and the Hon. Thomas Morris of Ohio for Vice-

President. Both nominations were accepted by acclamation and the convention

adjourned until Friday morning and thus gave an opportunity for holding in the

evening a mass meeting of ratification. . . .

"Friday the convention confirmed the list of electors reported for each slate

represented and after approving their records and unanimously pledging to use

every honorable endeavor to support the platform and the nominees, adjourned

without date. . . ." (p. 104-109)

The years 1840 and 1841 were transitional years for Lowry Rankin as far as his

future career was concerned. Before graduation from Lane, he had considered

becoming a missionary and going either to the West Indian Islands or to Africa.

But since the American Board of Commissioners of Foreign Missions was "embar-

• 25
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                43

 

rassed for funds," he looked elsewhere for work. At this time his father's financial

matters were also unsettled so the son for a time helped by acting as his sales rep-

resentative for two of his recently published books. A Present to Families advocated

infant baptism and gave instruction in the training of children, and An Antidote

for Unitarianism was a defense of Christianity against what John Rankin termed

"atheism." Lowry says his father "proposed to give my wife a home in his family

and pay my travelling expenses, I to give my services without other compensa-

tion as he could not afford to pay a salary. Knowing it was very important he

should be aided, I consented to his proposition. I travelled on horseback all fall

and early winter through southwestern and central Ohio, and the latter part of

the winter and early part of the spring through the central portion from east to

west of Indiana. I disposed of over a thousand copies of A Present to Families and

over five hundred copies of An Antidote for Unitarianism. My plan was to call on

the pastors of the Presbyterian churches, have them examine a copy of each book,

then take orders for as many copies as possible, send them to the building in Cin-

cinnati, have the books sent on the receipt of the same, the money being for-

warded to my father. I succeeded beyond his and my expectations . . . ." (p. 112-113)

After he had been home a month from his selling trip, Rankin heard of a

vacancy in the country church of Monroe, five miles from New Richmond in Cler-

mont County. When he visited the church as a candidate, he asked Benjamin

Templeton, his Negro friend, to accompany him and share the pulpit with him.

But the black man's presence "gave mortal offence to two of the heaviest contribu-

tors and cooked my chances of settling there." (p. 116)

A week or so later he was asked to visit an Indiana church "just over the Ohio

border and not far from Oxford, Ohio." But since this Presbyterian church was

divided between Old and New School members, many of whom objected to the

antislavery movement, the newly ordained minister refused to be a candidate. In

fact he says: "That ended my candidacy. I never visited a church as a candidate

from that time to the present." (p. 116-117)

Early in August 1841 Lowry's uncle, the Reverend William C. Rankin, visited

the Rankin family in Ripley before departing for his new pastorate in the Iowa

Territory. Since another area needed a minister also, he pursuaded his young

nephew to ask the American Home Missionary Society of the Presbyterian Church

to appoint him "Home Missionary for the County of Van Buren, Iowa Territory,

with headquarters at Keosauqua." Rankin received the appointment along with

the agreement for the society to appropriate seventy-five dollars for travelling

expenses plus a salary of $300 a year.

On November 23 Lowry departed from Ripley with his wife and brother John

T. on a small boat bound for Cincinnati. While going to the stateroom, he told

his wife and brother that they had started a voyage of hundreds of miles with only

"five cents" that he had left after "squaring up everything." At Cincinnati the

family boarded a steamer for the trip to St. Louis. Even though Rankin did not

have money to pay either for the ride to Cincinnati or to St. Louis, the captains

of the boats said that the bills would be sent to the American Home Missionary

Society for the promised payment and that the young brother could help wait on

tables for his passage.

After a long, arduous trip through winter weather the new minister arrived at

his destination. He soon was informed by his host, a Mr. Hadden, that the local

• 26
 

44                                                                  OHIO HISTORY

Presbyterian church consisted of three men and their wives and had been orga-

nized a year and a half before his arrival by two travelling preachers. Rankin was

then admonished that since the town was populated by atheists and Mormons, to

be successful, it was imperative that he preach against these evils.

Rather typically, however, Rankin took his own course. He first felt that he had

erred in coming to Iowa for he knew little of Mormonism or the atheism of Abner

Kneeland--the leading atheist in town who had moved to Iowa from Boston where

he had edited the free-thought Investigator. However, not being one who would

"run away from difficulties," the staunch young minister procured a vacant build-

ing in which to hold services, and on December 20 addressed a "house . . . packed

with those curious to hear what the preacher had to say." To the chagrin of those

who wanted a fire and brimstone sermon, he spoke neither against atheists nor

infidels but simply urged his listeners to follow the teachings of Jesus. (p. 122-131)

At the urging of his wife, Rankin remained independent of the local church

and made plans to establish his own congregation:

"My first work was to procure a Book of Mormon and other Mormon books.

To get an insight into Kneeland's form of atheism I made it a constant study also

until I became familiar with both classes of error. In doing so I was reprimanded

by my former host. In less than two weeks I knew the male members of the

[already established] church were not desirable material. The women were excel-

lent but were handicapped by their husbands. One of the elders occasionally ran

his mill on the Sabbath, claiming it to be a work of mercy. The other elder was

county clerk and issued three hundred dollars in bogus county orders. On his being

detected, he redeemed them and saved himself from going to the penitentiary. The

third and last kept a dance house. On learning these facts I was glad I was inde-

pendent of that organization. All the business houses, saloons, and work shops

were open on the Sabbath with one honorable exception. Mr. E. Morning closed

his store. He was a Philadelphian. He said, 'I have been too well raised to work

or do business on Sunday.' He was not a church member. He prospered in busi-

ness and for years held the position of State Superintendent of Public Works. Sab-

bath was the busiest day in the week. If not working, horse racing took the place

of it. A short time before my arrival a convention was held in the interest of

'free thought.' At that time there was not another minister in Van Buren County.

A year later a Baptist minister settled at Bentonsport, who farmed, and preached

on Sundays. An Old School Presbyterian minister,19 Rev. Wilson, came with a

small colony and settled nine miles north of Keosauqua.

"Mr. Kneeland lectured twice a month in the courthouse, usually on the Sab-

bath. During the first year I was there he increased his visits by lecturing on week-

day evenings. I had no reason to complain about the size of my audience the

Sabbaths he was absent, and it was better when he did lecture than I expected.

 

 

19. The Presbyterian division into New and Old School factions in the 1830's and after was typical

of the doctrinal struggles within American protestant churches at the time. The "New School" insisted

that sin 'is man's own act, consisting in selection of some object other than God as his chief good.'

Man's condition made it certain he would sin, but he had 'power to the contrary.' The "Old School"

more strongly emphasized Calvinistic pre-determinism. See Winthrop S. Hudson, Religion in America

(New York, 1965), 162-166. The New School, holding a "liberal" theology, was more attractive to

reform-minded Christians than the Old School which looked askance at the doctrine of "general

atonement." i.e., that Jesus died for all, not just for the godly; see Merle Curti, The Growth of American

Thought (New York, 1964), 29.

• 27
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                    45

 

All classes came, expecting each time that I would make a special attack on the

infidels.

"After getting settled, I wrote letters and sent them to the different Post Offices

in the county addressed to any professed Christian, requesting the postmasters to

please hand them on to anyone they know to be such. To these letters I received

two answers and established two preaching stations for weekday services and occa-

sional Sabbath services. One was south of the town, nine miles nearer the Mis-

souri state line, and the other was in the southwest, twenty-five miles away on Fox

River, just half a mile east of the 'Indian line' as then known, beyond which there

was not a white settlement to the Pacific Ocean. The people built a log house for

school and preaching. All the dwellings were of logs, hewn or unhewn. At the

station we used one-half of a Mr. Thornton's double log dwelling. These and other

minor points occupied all my Sabbath and weekday evenings. Every other Sab-

bath at Keosauqua my wife took charge of the Sabbath school until she was dis-

abled by an injury [discussed later]. In April 1842, I purchased a lot and a story-

and-a-half hewn log house that stood near and moved it onto the lot. By the first

of May I was living in my own house. I dug a cellar and walled it up with stone.

The latter part of May I organized a Presbyterian church of ten members at the

Fox River station. It took the name of Fox River Church. Soon after, a traveling

Methodist minister organized a Methodist class there of six members. It was there

I began to learn how ill-adapted Presbyterians, Methodists, and Baptists were for

church work in a new settlement to combine all the religious people into one

church. There were ten New School and two Old School Presbyterians, six Meth-

odists, two Baptists. Each group fought shy of anyone of the other organizations.

Instead of one church of twenty-two members there must be four, one of ten, one

of six, and two of two members each.

"Immediately on the organization of the church an interest began to appear.

I was the only minister that had any regular service in the neighborhood. Rev.

Post had been written to by the one Baptist family, and he visited the vicinity

during my absence to fill a distant appointment made some weeks previously. He

labored the three days he was there to induce the converts to unite with a small

Baptist church five miles distant over the line in Missouri, declaring that there

was no true baptism but by immersion. Quite a number of the converts had been

brought up in the Baptist faith. When I learned he had been there, I expected he

would persuade them to join some Baptist organization. Feeling that the popula-

tion did not justify three church organizations, I sought by letter an interview with

him. Finding he was persistent in getting them to join the Missouri church or orga-

nize one there, I said that rather than have another church organized I would be

willing to immerse in the Fox River every convert who desired it. 'But that would

not be true baptism for you have never been baptized yourself,' he answered. In

reply, I asked if I was correctly informed that he was first a Methodist and was

immersed by a Methodist minister. He said it was correct, so I asked what assur-

ance he had that his baptism was valid. Were the Methodists properly baptized?

Afterward I was sorry I had put the question, for I learned from another Baptist

minister who visited Mr. Post after his visit at Fox River that it had caused him

many sleepless nights, and he had finally written to this man to come to his relief.

'Did you baptize him?' I asked. 'No, but I had great difficulty in convincing him

it was not necessary.' 'You see what a long journey (this man was from Burling-

• 28
 

46                                                            OHIO HISTORY

 

ton, Iowa) you have caused me.' Mr. Post was a good man but was somewhat igno-

rant and was easily confused by questions.

"Needing help on Fox River, I solicited the cooperation of Rev. Wilson, an Old

School Presbyterian, who had settled with a colony nine miles east of us. It was

declined on two grounds: I was New School and an Abolitionist, yet I had said

nothing in public and scarcely anything in private on slavery. But it was known

that I received the Philanthropist through the mail, and that was sufficient. While

these meetings were in progress at Fox River, I received a notice to meet at Yel-

low Springs and assist other ministers in the organization of a Presbytery for the

Territory of Iowa. The Methodists, who were anxious to have Mr. Post's views on

baptism answered, sent, without consulting me, for one of their 'big guns' in Illi-

nois. He was to be there at the time of the meeting at Yellow Springs. I made

arrangements accordingly and went. It was important I should be there to make

a quorum. The constitutional provision required three ordained ministers. I arrived

first, then two more ministers and one licentiate came. . . .

"Two matters of interest came before the meeting: education and slavery. The

first, under the leadership of Dr. Fullenwilder, after a careful deliberation and

discussion, resulted in the acceptance of a generous offer of Dr. Fullenwilder and

others in that vicinity for the commencement of what became the Presbyterian

College at Kossuth, then known as Yellow Springs. Desiring that the Presbytery

should from its organization have a clear record against slavery, I presented a

series of resolutions to that effect which were seconded by my uncle [William

Rankin]. Rev. J. A. Clark made a long speech in opposition. He was preaching

every fourth Sabbath in a church in Missouri, a fact I did not know until he

stated it in his speech. The effect of the information made me the more anxious

to press the passage of the resolution. I followed him. Dr. Fullenwilder made a

bitter speech in reply, and Rev. J. A. Clark also replied, I following both by way

of a rejoinder. At the close of my remarks the presbytery adjourned until the next

day, as arrangements had been made for preaching in the evening by the moder-

ator. Up to this time my uncle had taken no part in the discussion. In conversa-

tion with him after the evening service he said he had his doubts about the

propriety of the introduction of antislavery resolutions at that meeting, but out of

deference to my feelings he had seconded me, and he would vote for their adoption.

"The following morning he made some remarks to the same effect, saying that

he would vote for the resolutions, not because it was the best time to introduce

the subject but because they were before us and contained the truth. Dr. Fullen-

wilder followed with a very long Bible argument in support of slavery. It was very

bitter. The little church was packed. I replied. In the final vote there was a tie, my

uncle and I voting for and Rev. Clark and Dr. Fullenwilder voting against. Where-

upon the moderator, Rev. W. W. Woods, said, 'I did entertain doubts respecting

the introduction of the question of slavery at this time, but the attempt to prove

that slavery is ordained of God is so abhorrent to every sense of justice that I am

glad the subject has come before us for settlement. I therefore give the casting

vote in the affirmative. . . .'

"My wife was with me at the close of the meetings. On our return home, as we

were turning a corner of a field, a cow that a boy was driving, came crashing

through a heavy thicket of hazel bushes into the road right in front of my horse

who was young and spirited, and frightened him, causing him to break out of the

• 29
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                     47

 

road on a run across a small field toward a heavy rail fence. The whole thing

was so unexpected that he ran several rods before I could check him. My wife,

seeing we were nearing the fence, jumped out. I saw she cleared the wheels and

checked the horse not more than two or three rods from where she jumped. On

turning the horse around, I saw her still lying on the ground. I hastened to her

and found her unable to stand and suffering great pain in her back. Picking her

up and getting her into the buggy, I succeeded in getting to a house a mile dis-

tant and sent a boy to Keosauqua, fifteen miles away, for a physician, and another

boy ten miles back to our people for assistance. Our Fox River friends arrived

before the doctor and prepared to take my wife back with them. As the house

was a small, one-roomed cabin, it was thought best not to wait for the doctor.

They had brought a spring wagon with a bed. We helped her in and started slowly

back, word being left for the doctor to follow. We reached Mr. Evans' [house],

one of the elders of the church, just as the sun set, and the doctor arrived half an

hour later. He advised removing her to Keosauqua in the morning, first, because

she could be moved better now than some days later, and, second, because twenty-

five miles from a physician was too far for her to receive the attention she ought

to have. Accordingly, we took up our slow march back to Keosauqua. . . ."

(p. 131-137)

Lowry Rankin's two years in the Iowa Territory proved to be ones of continual

hardship. But his stay was not without some notable successes. He had faced the

pro-slavery elements squarely without fear, had won the respect and confidence of

the community, had worked to improve the moral quality of his assigned area,

and had labored to establish active churches in the vicinity of Keosauqua. The

severe cold of winter, the recurring bouts with fever, or even threats of physical

violence if he continued to preach abolition were not sufficient reason for him to

leave. But because of the accident, resulting in a spine injury that caused his wife

to become paralyzed from the waist down, he felt the family must return to Ohio

and his father's home where Amanda could receive better care than in Iowa.

Late in 1843, after a painful three-week journey, the Rankins again saw the

friendly shore at Ripley. On arriving and being warmly welcomed home, Lowry

mused, "I left Ripley for my work in Iowa with five cents and household goods

and returned with no such goods and just ten cents in my pocket. Such was the

ending of my ministry in Iowa. The experience had its lights and shadows, its

great joys and its great sorrows. I have always been glad I have been privileged

to add a little to the growth of that noble state." (p. 138-143)

From this time until the early 1850's, Rankin served as supply preacher for sev-

eral churches in the surrounding countryside and continued to organize new con-

gregations. For a while in 1843 he was the publishing agent for Cassius Clay's

True American,²⁰ and in 1852 he became general agent for the abolitionist West-

ern Reform Book and Tract Society of which his father was president. The young

abolitionist remained at this position for a year, but because he wished to be near

his invalid wife, he resigned in December 1852 and again preached in churches

near Ripley. After the death of his wife early in 1853, almost eleven years after

the accident, Rankin accepted a call to a church in Clifton, Ohio, which he had

 

20. The abolitionist paper True American was published in Kentucky in 1845; Clay, Yale-educated,

was the son of slaveholder. See Louis Filler, The Crusade Against Slavery, 1830-1860 (New York, 1960),

221-222.

• 30
 

organized two years before. During this period he spoke extensively on the slave problem and attended two Free Soil party conventions as a delegate.21 When he returned from a pleasure tour of the Northeast in July 1854, he was married to Margaret Donnell of Kingston, Indiana. The hectic pace of his life, however, was causing a severe strain, and at the end of 1854 he took a much needed rest. Late in 1855 Rankin and his wife and two children left for Indiana where he and his father had a joint interest in 320 acres of land, although he admitted "having no settled purpose where I would locate." At this time Rankin's home presbytery had granted him permission to unite with a Congregational association (without affect- ing his Presbyterian standing), and in October 1856 he was received as a member of the Chicago Association of Congregational Churches whose members "were earnest Christian men and, to a man, hostile to slavery." (p. 143-157)22 During the next three years the Rankins lived in Loda, Illinois, where Lowry endeavored to do extensive work for the church while he supported his family by renting out an eighty-acre farm he had purchased and by the profits from his drug and variety store managed by his brother Thomas. It was not long, however, before 21. In Pittsburgh, fall 1851; in Columbus, fall 1853. 22. A major impetus to Rankin's shift to the Congregationalists was the Presbyterian division over the slavery question. After the Civil War, he remained a Congregationalist feeling the Presbyterian church had been corrupted by its pro-slavery faction.

• 31
 

Rankin realized he was not cut out to be a businessman. He says, "I found as a minister I could not force the payments of debts. The people were poor and I could not consistently take their stock or land in payment. The result was I sold the store, farm and home in town to pay my own debts which with bank losses left me so stranded that I had to borrow $150 to carry me through, while some hundreds due me were never paid." He then accepted a position as general mis- sionary in Illinois for the Congregational association of the state. (p. 157-164) Sectarian jealousy was strong in Illinois at this time, and once again Rankin's duties were complicated by his antislavery views. He says, "On January 1, 1858, I entered upon the work of a general missionary. The first work was to take a run over the Central Railroad from Chicago to Cairo, stopping off at every station and ascertaining the religious status of each place. It took a whole month of hard work. The Congregational churches were chiefly in the northern portion of the state; there were a few in the central and none in the southern of 'Egypt.' As soon as the Alton Presbytery learned a Congregational missionary had gone down to 'Egypt' (southern Illinois), they raised the cry that the Chicago Congregationalists were invading territory that was legitimately their own and 'rang the changes' on 'denominational polity,' a thing they were not given to consider when there was a possibility of planting a Presbyterian church. . . .

• 32
 

50                                                           OHIO HISTORY

"In addition to my missionary work I visited the military camps at Cairo and

other places in Illinois, St. Louis, and Bird Point, Missouri, and Paducah, Ken-

tucky, preaching, visiting hospitals and distributing religious reading and some-

times stores from May 1862 to September 1862. The additional work was approved

by the committee as necessary and important and I was glad to have the privilege.

It was much more pleasant work than I had anticipated. I was well received by

officers and privates and never met with a word of disrespect.

"In order to have my family near me while at work in southern Illinois I moved

temporarily to Salem. It was on the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad. I rented a

house from the editor of the Democratic paper, the only paper of the town and

the official paper for the county as Salem was the county seat. Having seen my

family comfortable, I left to engage in my work. I had paid the rent in advance.

In the first issue of the paper after I left, the editor announced my arrival and in

a long editorial gave the people to understand that a 'noted black abolitionist of

Chicago had moved into Salem.' He told his readers what a dangerous character I

was, sent from Chicago to make 'black Republicans,' 'a kind of cattle' not to be

tolerated in Marion County, and concluded by urging them to 'arise in a mass

and in their indignation drive the Chicago intruder out of the county.' This was

just before the meeting of the Republican state convention. There were only eight

Republicans in the town at that time, and some of them were very quiet. As I

stepped from the cars on my return, a Democrat, who had a personal quarrel with

the editor, handed me a copy of the paper containing the article, and after I read

it asked me what I thought of it. I laughed and said I hoped he would wait until

the month was up for which I had paid him the rent. 'Then you are not fright-

ened,' he said. 'Oh no,' I answered, 'Not in the least, I got used to that sort of

thing years ago.' It was Saturday, and, procuring the use of the Cumberland Pres-

byterian Church, I sent a notice around the town that I would preach on the Sab-

bath at 11 a.m. The house was crowded; the editor was there also. Some came to

hear a Chicago man, most of them came expecting me to 'dress up' the editor. I

selected as my theme, 'Am I my brother's keeper?' When the text was given out,

they were pretty sure they would not be disappointed. I, however, made no allu-

sion to the article or slavery in any form. The editor was greatly disappointed and

said I was afraid to attack him and sought to make friends.

"On Monday morning I essayed a call on the editor in his office. Just before I

reached the office the editor came out and, we met on the sidewalk. As I came

up, I extended my hand. He hesitated a little and then we shook hands. I said I

was on my way to his office to thank him. He said he was not aware that any

thanks were due him. In response I said, 'You have been kind enough without

any cost to me to inform the readers of your paper who I am, what my business

is, and have even told them what are my political affinities. Don't you see you

have relieved me of the necessity of doing that? Another thing, I like to save my

neighbors, if possible, from any disappointment. I wish to say I have never been

cowardly enough to run and I don't drive worth a cent. If either is expected, some-

body will be disappointed. There is but one way to get me out of Salem.' He

asked, 'What is that?' I replied, 'Convince me that I can do more and better work

for Christ and humanity by leaving and I'll be off tomorrow.' I concluded, 'I am

going up to Chicago tonight and if you have any business there that I can attend

to for you I shall be only too glad to do it. Good morning, sir.' I organized a

church in Salem, and on the ordination of my brother, A. T. Rankin, he became

• 33
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                   51

 

the pastor, which made it desirable that I should remain there. . . ." (p. 164-167)

While Rankin was living at Salem, the Civil War had begun, and his experi-

ences during the war and Reconstruction were some of the most exciting of his

life. In 1862 he became chaplain for the 113th Illinois Regiment and saw several

southern military campaigns. After the war, until 1873, he lived in Memphis,

Tennessee, where he was active in the Freedmen cause.

"I was on the train bound for Cairo when at Mattoon we received the intel-

ligence that Sumter was fired on. At the outbreak of the Rebellion two-thirds of

southern Illinois was in sympathy with the South. In many parts it was dangerous

to be openly a Union man. In Cairo I could find but two Union men, the postmaster

and the New School Presbyterian minister, and he was very timid. The editor of the

Salem paper urged all that part of Illinois south of the railroad running across the

state from Terre Haute, Indiana, to St. Louis, Missouri, to seceed, and he was foolish

enough to believe at first that part of the state would seceed and join the South.

"There was a rumor in Springfield after Lincoln called the first 75,000 men

that Cairo and Williamson County were planning to destroy the railroad bridge

over the Big Muddy River and hold that point and prevent troops going south.

Governor [Richard] Yates requested me by letter to run down to Cairo and learn

the facts. He said, 'As you are in the habit of going over the road in your work,

no one will suspect you.' I did so and had a long conference with the postmaster

and the minister and came back and telegraphed the word 'danger.' The order was

sent to Chicago for several regiments and a battery. The city was in a blaze of

excitement that Sabbath. The regiments and batteries were on their way by after-

noon. One was dropped at the Big Muddy River, and the rest rushed on to Cairo.

They got there in the night. The Williamson County insurgents were to have taken

possession of the bridge in the morning. The next week when I visited Cairo the

citizens expressed great indignation at the Governor's suspicion of the loyalty of

Cairo . . . .

"The morning of October 11, 1862, I returned to Chicago and was informed I

had been appointed chaplain and was mustered in at once. There were quite a

number of regiments at Camp Douglas. On the 25th of October orders came to

repair to the seat of war. I bid my family farewell and the regiment left for Cairo,

Illinois, by train from whence we went by steamer to Memphis, Tennessee. George

F. Root's 'Battle Cry of Freedom' had just been published, and our regiment sang

it as we marched through the streets of Memphis on the way to camp. It was the

first time it was heard there. We were assigned to the First Brigade of the Second

Division of the 15th Army Corps. Brigadier General Morgan L. Smith commanded

the brigade. We went into camp with the other regiments composing that brigade.

Major General W. T. Sherman commanded the Second Division and Major General

U. S. Grant the 15th Army Corps.

"In going down the Mississippi River our boat was densely crowded with troops.

Owing to a scarcity of boats our regiment of 910 men and officers was assigned to

the hurricane deck where there was scarcely room to lie down. It was our first

experience in sleeping without covering except one blanket. At Memphis I was

appointed postmaster of our regiment. As there were few, if any, postage stamps

in the army, Congress authorized an officer in each regiment to endorse 'soldier's

letter' and his official position on each letter, and the postage was collected when

the letter was delivered. I was given the appointment both because I would have

more time for the work and because it would enable me to become acquainted with

• 34
 

52                                                             OHIO HISTORY

 

every member of the regiment . . . . (p. 167-179)

". . . I was assigned [also] as prison chaplain, as our regiment was divided for

different duties. Just before the presidential election [of 1864] the soldiers were given

thirty days furlough to enable them to go home and vote. I was left in command

at our camp. The reason I was selected was my opposition to the nomination of

Andrew Johnson for Vice-President. I said it was a mistake of grave character and

one that the Republicans would regret. Much as I desired that Mr. Lincoln should

be reelected I did not want to aid in the election of Mr. Johnson. All the other

officers did, so I agreed to stay. As I was not going home with the regiment, I sent

for Mrs. Rankin and the children to make me a visit in camp. I built an addition

to my tent for their accomodation while the regiment was absent. It was becom-

ing quite apparent that the war was drawing to a close, and my regiment on its

return [from various engagements] was again assigned to provost guard duty, and

we were divided up in eleven barracks. I concluded to have my family remain

with me, using rooms in a barracks adjoining headquarters.

"The terrible news of President Lincoln's assassination caused a deep sense of

gloom. The southern citizens of Memphis were greatly alarmed. The city was

draped in mourning. Southern and northern citizens vied with each other in the

extent of their draping. The northern soldiers were angry, sullen, and murmured

vengeance, and the least indiscretion on the part of the southern people would

have caused a deal of trouble, hence their activity in the display of mourning.

"In April a correspondence was opened with me requesting me to take the

southern secretaryship of the American Tract Society of Boston for the southwest

with headquarters at Memphis. I accepted the appointment on the condition that

it be deferred until my regiment was mustered out of the army, as the members

did not wish me to leave before that time . . . . (p.179-180)

"[On July 5, 1865] I returned to Memphis [from settling my affairs in Chicago]

and at once entered upon my duties [for the Tract Society]. I visited various por-

tions of the Southwest. I had the finances of our church to look after as its treasurer.

For six months I could get no one that had unoccupied property who would rent

me a place for my family or for a depository. I was compelled to take a room on

the third floor of a business house and pay $30 a month with no accomodations

whatever. I was not alarmed over any personal attack, but what I feared most was

being struck by some stray bullet. There was a good deal of reckless shooting in the

streets, and I had some narrow escapes.

"I was busy visiting various places in the South in the interest of the Tract

Society. I found in certain states the people extremely suspicious of strangers and

the suspicion was intensified if the stranger was seen to speak to a colored person.

I was watched at every turn, even at meals in the hotels. They would sit and stare

while I was eating. An undefinable terror prevailed in society. Some counties,

expecially in Mississippi, were kept in constant fear by a band of twenty or thirty

reckless men. If I went on the Sabbath to their churches to attend their services,

the whole congregation would stare to such an extent that I became conscious that

I was attracting more attention than the preacher. Especially was this the case on

my first visit to Grenada, Mississippi. I went to the Presbyterian church and took

a back seat. I was late as I had visited a little Sabbath school of a dozen colored

children taught by the wife of an officer of the Freedman's Bureau. The colored

people were afraid to send their children. The pastor was repeating his text as I

• 35
 

Rankin Autobiography                                                 53

entered. Every man and woman and child was craning his neck and staring at me;

even the minister at first kept his eye on me. It became extremely annoying to

the pastor after a while. He could not get the attention of his hearers though he

asked for it more than once. I was tempted more than once to relieve him by

leaving. After service I was followed to the hotel by at least twenty men and boys.

No one spoke to me.

"A great many of the country people came to Memphis with a bale or more of

cotton saved from the wreck of the war. I visited with these people, conversing

with them and giving them religious readings. I was amazed to find at least one-

third of them unable to read. I was often threatened, but I kept on. Three or four

evenings in the week I addressed the colored people in different localities of

Memphis. Thus the first six months passed. The Freedman's Bank was organized in

Washington, D. C., and at the expiration of the first six months an arrangement was

entered into to unite the Tract depository and bank, the secretary and cashier to

be the same person.

"I was asked to take both positions, each organization to be responsible for

half of the salary. It was thought to be a good thing to do in the interest of

economy. I felt it would have the result of crippling the work of both and would

have declined, but Mrs. Rankin thought we had better undertake it as we were at

a good deal of expense in coming to Memphis. I proposed we go to California, but

she was not prepared to make so long a trip to what to her was an unknown coun-

try. Financially, it would have been much better if we had gone to California then.

With considerable reluctance I accepted the proposition and entered on the joint

work of the society and the bank. A room was procured on the second floor of a

business building on Main Street just south of Union. I soon found what I antici-

pated; one interest conflicted with the other. The bank tied me up to the city.

Each was a hindrance to the other.

"The erection of the church by this time was completed. I had urged the

American Missionary Association of which I am a life member, to send a missionary

to work among the Freedmen, and they sent a graduate of the Chicago Theological

Seminary. He and his wife were to work under my supervision. A lot was leased and

a chapel erected, called Lincoln Chapel. They had just gotten to work when a three

days' reign of terror occurred. A large mob held sway. The first night they burned

four colored churches, Lincoln Chapel making the fifth, and threatened to burn our

new house of worship. The mob went howling through the streets murdering col-

ored men, women, and children and seriously wounding many. The insurance

company notified me they would not be responsible for our church building; they

returned the premium I had paid and canceled the policy. While I could have held

them bound, I thought I could use the $35 to better advantage in protecting the

house. I employed two white ex-Union soldiers to stand guard, one in the house

and one on the outside. The second day the mob, numbering hundreds, came up

Third, out of DeSoto Street, swearing they would burn the Yankee church, but

when they saw the guard armed with a musket and bayonet on the outside and

one looking out from the inside, they rushed to the opposite side of the street and

hurried past, attempting no mischief. They said, when asked why they did not burn

the church, that they didn't know how many Yankees were inside. Being defeated

in burning the church, the mob attacked the colored people in the southern part of

the city. Some colored men who had been members of a colored regiment, twenty-

five in number, armed with muskets, formed a skirmish line around the shanties and

• 36
 

54                                                           OHIO HISTORY

kept the mob at bay all day. Squads of the mob marched through the streets.

"I was busy most of the day persuading the colored people to stay indoors. The

pastor and others urged them to meet the mob on its own terms. I insisted that

while they had the right to defend themselves and their homes it would not be

good policy for them to attempt it. I am confident I saved many lives by insisting

they take my advice and keep indoors, which, as a rule, they did. On the second

day three or four southern gentlemen offered their services to guard my dwelling.

I was then residing in a wooden building on Union Street near Orleans. They said

they had witnessed and approved of my efforts to allay the excitement by inducing

the colored people to keep indoors and knew the mob had threatened to burn

my dwelling. I thanked them but declined to put them to any inconvenience. I

was not disturbed. The pastor and his wife abandoned their house and slept in an

orchard.

"On the morning of the third day the mob was less demonstrative, perhaps on

account of sleeping off the carousal they had kept up to near morning. About

noon they began to gather. Mrs. Rankin was on Beale Street getting shoes for the

children when word came to the store to shut up as the mob was coming up Beale

Street. As she stepped into the street she heard a fellow say they were going to

clean out the Yankee book store and nigger bank, and she ran up to main street

to give me warning. My son, Horace, a boy of fourteen years, was with me. I put

in his hand a breech-loading rifle and told him to stand at the head of the stairs

and forbid anyone to come up until I got back. I would see his mother well on the

way home and hoped to be back before the mob came. I went with her two blocks,

bid her goodbye, and returned. The advance of the mob had reached my place, but

seeing a boy at the head of the stairs with a gun, they thought it prudent to wait

until the full force of the mob came up. They separated when I came up and let

me pass through without any molestation; a muttered oath was all I heard. On

reaching the doorway I turned around. Every store on the street was closed. Some

one said, 'Shut your door quickly, they are after you.' I replied, 'Thank you, I prefer

not do it.' Then turning to the mob, which now filled the street solidly, I said,

'Gentlemen, what is your desire?' A burly Irishman stepped out and said, 'We won't

have any Yankees here. We are going to clean you and your nigger bank out.' I

replied, 'I don't think you will. I am an American citizen by birth; I am engaged in

an honest and lawful business, and I do not propose to close at the dictation of

irresponsible people. My doors will not be closed, and if any of you think it safe

to interfere you can try it and take the consequences.' 'What will you do?', some-

one asked. 'That is my business,' I answered. 'What have you got up there?' 'You

had better not try to find out,' I said. 'Well, we will.' 'I think you won't try.'

'Come on boys,' yelled the crowd. 'Hold on,' yelled those in front as the others

pushed them over the sidewalk. 'Yes, come on,' I said, 'if you think it safe.' I

ran up the stairs, seized the gun from Horace, telling him to keep out of sight. As

I descended the stairs someone yelled, 'Take the gun from him.' I replied that

they would get a warmer reception than they bargained for if they attempted it.

In the meantime the crowd became denser. Not less than 1500 people had congre-

gated, a large portion doubtless from curiosity. I could see that my putting on a

bold front and playing the game of bluff was succeeding, and I kept it up. I said,

'You were all day yesterday trying to take a Negro skirmish line, only 1500 or 2000

of you against 25 in an open field. Did you do it? I went out to see how you did

it. You were brave fellows, running whenever you saw a gun pointed at you. You

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Rankin Autobiography                                                  55

couldn't take the Negroes. Do you expect you can climb these narrow stairs against

three shots a minute from a gun if you do come up? It will be harder work than

taking a small Negro skirmish line.'

"Major Leidman, a Union soldier, owned an ammunition store next to mine.

He was standing near my door with a small cord in his hand, the other end of

which was dropped through the grating in the sidewalk. It was suggested by the

leaders of the mob that they break into his store and get a supply of ammunition

sufficient to overcome any force I was supposed to have upstairs. Consequently,

they crowded upon the sidewalk with a view to forcing upon his doors. The major

sang out, holding up the cord, 'Come on, I am prepared to go to Heaven and send

more Rebels to Hell than Samson. Come on, come on.' The mob, thinking he had

a plan for blowing them up became panic-stricken and rushed away without consid-

ering the order of their going. In five minutes the street was cleared. Late that

afternoon an order came from the Governor [John C. Brown] for the mob to

disperse, saying that if they did not do so he would call out the militia. So quiet

reigned once more in Memphis . . . ." (p.181-188)

During the remainder of the time Rankin stayed in Memphis, he and his

family faced additional problems. There was another more successful attempt to

burn his house; Horace, his last living child by his first wife, died of cholera in

the fall of 1866; and the following summer Memphis suffered a severe yellow

fever epidemic. Rankin's missionary activities, though, kept him busy. He toured

much of the deep South teaching the Freedmen, preaching, and organizing schools

and churches. Finally, early in 1873, the Congregational minister answered a call

from the Home Missionary Society of California "to take hold of new work in that

state."23

Once again, just as in Iowa, Rankin found himself in a semi-frontier area. He

held his first service in the train depot of Tulare. "Fifteen of the twenty-five in

town turned out." The missionary remained in Tulare until mid-1879, having

succeeded in establishing a church in 1874. He then answered a call in Soquel,

Santa Cruz County, California, where he remained until 1882 ("Nothing of special

interest occurred while I remained there."), then moved on to San Francisco.

Until 1891 Rankin supplied churches in the Bay Area but did not accept a perma-

nent position. Rankin's final move was to Petaluma, California, where on April 6,

1895, he died at the age of seventy-eight. During his lifetime he had married twice,

a boy and girl were born to his first wife and four children to his second. Only

his children by his second wife survived him in death. (p.¹88-197)

It is difficult to evaluate the significance of Adam Lowry Rankin as an aboli-

tionist and missionary. Unlike his father who lived sixty-six years in Ripley, Ohio,

and wrote prolifically on the problems of slavery and religion, the younger Rankin

appeared rootless in his constant movement and left only this account of his life

which, for the most part, emphasizes chronicle at the expense of analysis and evalua-

tion. From it, nevertheless, we can clearly see Rankin as an activist at the grass-

roots of nineteenth-century social and religious reform. Combining abolitionism with

missionary zeal, he optimistically and fearlessly accepted constant challenge with

confidence in himself and his principles. And more importantly, through his eyes

we get a vivid indication of what the many other working reformers of the time

must have also experienced.

23. The turmoil in Memphis is treated in a wider frame of reference by Gerald M. Capers, The

Biography of a River Town: Memphis, Its Heroic Age (Chapel Hill, 1939), 135-186.

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