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.
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.
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
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
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.
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,
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
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- |
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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. |
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.
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.
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.
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
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-
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
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
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.
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
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-
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
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.
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-
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
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.
|
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. |
|
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. . . . |
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
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
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
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
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
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.
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.