The Sunday Star, Washington, D. C., -- November 4, 1928
Ancient Custis Slave Remembers Brilliant Arlington Events
My quest had been rather hot and tiresome, but the moment I saw him I knew I had found the man I was seeking. As I drove up to the house, he was sitting in a rickety old chair under a gnarled apple tree beside the chicken yard, with several grandchildren, as I supposed, playing about, as he dozed with nodding head in the heat of mid-afternoon. That he was old there was no doubt; his woolly head was white and his eyes, as he observed my approach, were no longer clear, but looked dim and tired, like the eyes of an old, old man. I contemplated him in silence for a moment, while he looked mildly up at me. Here was the old fellow my friend Col. S. had told me about and suggested that I hunt him up. I had been told that he was born a slave on Arlington House plantation nearly 100 years ago, and had worked and lived there all his life; that he remembered George Washington Parke Custis and had many reminiscences he might disclose to the right person if he chose to talk. I was skeptical at first, I was inclined to doubt that he had ever seen Mr. Custis, so I asked Mr. Robert Dye, superintendent at Arlington Cemetery, if he knew James Parks, and what about him. Mr. Dye did know him and a great deal about him, and particularly where I could find him. "Why, that old fellow can tell you more about this place than anyone living." "Was he really a slave of George Washington Parke Custis, do you think?" I asked. "Surely he was; I don't know just how old he is, but he must be close to a hundred. When I came to Arlington in 1893, he looked just as old as he does today." So that is why I hunted up James Parks.
"Are you James Parks?" I asked. "Yes, sur, dat's my name." His voice was low but clear, and sensing he had a visitor, he made some effort of getting up and looking about for some seat for me. I urged him to be seated again, and to show him I had come to stay for a time, I sat down beside him in a chair almost as dilapidated as his own. He looked at me with rheumy but respectful eyes, and waited. "I understand you were born a slave at Arlington many years ago." I began. "yes, suh, dat is correct." I waited; I wanted to see if he would begin a long ramble of reminiscences, full of historical errors -I was still skeptical. He did nothing of the sort; he merely waited for my next question, looking at me steadily. "Did you ever see George Washington Parke Custis?" was my next question. He gave a quick chuckle and his face lighted up. "I've haned Maj. Custis many a gourd of water from de spring down dere by de river where de Government farm now is." And so, I began a very interesting acquaintance with a very interesting old man; a page from the book of the past, who has lived to witness many things the present generation calls history, and who, with the intervening span of one life -not as long in years as his own life -directly links today with Mount Vernon and George Washington. ***
James Parks was one of George Washington Parke Custis' slaves and knew him as his master on Arlington plantation from the time he first knew anything, and George Washington Parke Custis was not only the grandson of Martha Washington, but the only adopted son of George Washington, and who grew to manhood from a baby in arms under the tender care of the Father of His Country and his gentle wife. George Washington Parke Custis and his sister, Nellie Custis, were known as "the children of Mount Vernon." and although Mr. Custis was only 18 years of age when George Washington died in December, 1799 nevertheless, he was named as one of the executors of the general's last will and testament, and when he died at Arlington House, October 10, 1857, he was the last link of household intimacy that bounds his day and generation with our illustrious first President.
As my talk with the old Custis slave lengthened, my skepticism faded and finally vanished entirely. I realized that the old fellow wasn't a faker. I had half expected he would spoil himself for my purpose in less than 10 minutes. Instead, as he talked on in answers to my occasional questions, my wonder grew, and I realized he was pure gold. Not only had he lived long years upon the very scenes in which I was particularly interested, but he had a keen mind and memory and could talk well. He was a perfect subject to be interviewed, too, because he would talk for a while and then wait for another question. Always courteous and respectful, referring to himself and others of his day as "Custis niggers," as these old-time slaves will, he reminded me of nothing so much as Thomas Nelson Page's old fellow in "Marse Chan" and "Mch Lady."
James Parks was born on Arlington plantation about 84 or 85 years ago. His father and mother and brothers and sisters were all slaves of the Custis family and his grandfather, who was for many years head cook at the mansion house, lived to be more than a hundred year old. All his folks are buried in the slave burial grounds, down in the grove of trees near the river shore, on the part of the Arlington reservation now under the jurisdiction of the Department of Agriculture as an experimental farm. Until about two years ago, when he had to quit work “'cause I got so porely.” Parks had worked in and about Arlington all of his long life. He remembers when Mrs. Custis died, telling me accurately that that sad event occurred in 1853, "four years before Maj. Custis went, too." He said, without any suggestion from me, that "Maj. Custis died October 10, 1857." and that he was a boy of 15 or 16 years of age at that time. He was present at the burial of his master, standing with the other black folks apart from the white folks, when they laid Mr. Custis beneath his own trees not far from the great house, that stands today overlooking the Potomac and the Capital City. But when I asked him about the old grave of Mrs. Mary Randolph, who died in 1828, and is buried in the brick -walled vault about 60 feet down the north walk from the front of the mansion, and if he knew what relation she was to Mrs. Custis, he promptly told me that he never knew; that was long before his time. ***
I soon saw that James Parks was not at all inclined to supply with his imagination anything his mind lacked by way of facts. If he knew something I wanted him to talk about, he spoke freely and convincingly, but if he did not know he was neither afraid or ashamed to say so; he never hesitated. Once or twice I tried to lead him beyond his depth, just to try him out, but his utter simplicity and sincerity were so patent that I almost felt ashamed of my efforts to probe his genuineness.
My first effort had been to find "Uncle Jim" Parks, but I had no idea of a protracted interview as well, so I was without notebook or camera and unprepared to make any record of his interesting reminiscences. In order to correct my shortcomings in this particular, I asked him if I might soon call again and take his picture. Receiving his polite but dignified assent, together with "Thank you suh" for what I slipped into his hand, I left him to finish his afternoon siesta beneath the apple tree, with the chickens and children.
I was back again in two days, well fortified this time with kodak, notebook and a competent secretary who could take notes as rapidly as "Uncle Jim" could speak. He was sitting in the same chair under the apple tree and received me with the same grave, courteous respect. He posed for as many snapshots as I desired to take, but seemed not at all flattered that I should want them; nor did he make any inquiry as to what I proposed to do with them. Seemingly, as far as he was concerned, that was my business, not his. He expressed no desire to know why I wanted him to talk about Arlington, so I merely volunteered that I was interested in the history of the old place and let it go at that.
Would he go with me in the automobile down to the old Custis spring? "Sut'n'y, sur, if de mammy of dese chillun will look after dem while we's gone." So, he let me help him into the car, after I had given my assurance that I would bring him safely back and we went to find some of the places that were famous considerably more than a half a century ago. Down through the Department of Agriculture experimental farm, past the Government barns and through the brick and stone arch tunnel that once carried the Chesapeake & Ohio canal through Arlington plantation to Alexandria, and we soon stood beside the famous spring, now hidden by bushes and shrubbery, but still gushing forth it's crystal-clear water. Here, he said, with a sweep of his arm, were the picnic grounds, where thousands of people journeyed for a holiday from Washington, Georgetown, and Alexandria in years gone by, and came to slake their thirst at the great spring that was the pride of George Washington Parke Custis. No doubt its fame was just as firmly established earlier among the Potomack Indians, but "Uncle Jim" had no opinions as to that. He remembered the big oak that once stood just above the spring, which Lossing, the historian, in his story of a visit to Arlington as a guest of Mr. Custis, published in Harper's Magazine September, 1853, and he told me of the changes in the river shore during 50 and more years last past. He pointed out the spot where the steamboat wharf had been, the ice house, blacksmith shop, and the pavilions and kitchens which Mr. Custis had built for the comfort of his picnic guests. Not a vestige of these symbols of the benevolent old master's hospitality survives today, except for the old spring, and that has been covered over, because the water is now piped to a neat, brick spring-house across the road. Many a time has "Uncle Jim" knelt down to dip a gourd of water for his master when he was a mere boy. It seems from what he says that Mr. Custis had his plantation office in a log building adjacent to the spring, and that it was his almost daily custom to visit the spring for a morning drink before he repaired to the "cabin" to attend to whatever business might be at hand. It was James Parks' boyhood job to have a wood fire in the cabin on cool mornings before Mr. Custis arrived and then to make himself generally useful as his old master might direct. ***
At this time in our conversation it occurred to me to ask him if he had never seen Mr. Custis mingle with the picnickers in the grove. I knew, of course, that the bountiful old gentleman had built a dancing pavilion for the pleasure of his guests and that frequently, it is said, he hired musicians to play for them; perhaps on special occasions. "Uncle Jim's" answer was to affirm what he had seen with his own eyes; many times "Major Custis" would come down from the mansion on the hill to watch the children play and to see if everyone was having a good time. All were welcome, except on Sunday, and the only restriction was that intoxicating liquor should not be brought on the place. At times this genial and kindly host would appear among the picnic merrymakers with his own fiddle tucked under his arm and would take his place with the musicians and himself help make music for the dancers. "Yes, suh, I've seen him draw de bow down here many times; de major shore was stuck on music."
A walk up the hill a piece to the old slave burial ground carried us to the edge of a thicket overgrown with bushes and brambles. Here all of James Park's forbears are buried, his father and mother, his grandfather and grandmother, including the renowned George Clark, who cooked for Mr. Custis at the mansion house the greater potion of his life, married seven wives and lived to be 110 years old. Uncle Jim said that George Clark was a "gift" from George Washington to Maj. Custis, and was the family cook before the big house on the hill was built, when Mr. Custis first lived in the little house not far from the spring, built by the Alexanders before John Parke Custis bought Arlington plantation [from] Gerard Alexander in December, 1778. The slave cemetery is a forlorn, neglected and almost forgotten spot today, although the plow of the Government farmers seems not to have uprooted it, as far as the casual eye can judge. Some of the bricks from the old Alexander house are said to have been used in building the large stable that now shelters the department of Agriculture's teams and wagons, but the old spring itself is the only tangible relic of the past in that portion of the plantation. As for the log cabin where "Maj. Custis" conducted his business appertaining to the estate, it has long since disappeared. "Uncle Jim" and his first wife lived in it for many years, after the master had passed away. By his two wives, both of whom he has outlived, he had 22 children and he states as a simple fact today that five of his sons served their country in the World War. ***
I was anxious to question the old man about other points of interest in Arlington Cemetery proper, so we drove out of the farm and stopped under a tree opposite the McClellan Gate. Did he know where the red stones came from to build the cemetery wall? I asked. Without any hesitation he replied that they had come from the Seneca quarry in Maryland and had been transported over the C. & O. canal right into the Arlington reservation in the days when a branch of that important artery of commerce crossed the Potomac at Georgetown over the Aqueduct bridge. The slabs of bluestone finishing the top of the wall had come from Grant quarry, a few miles beyond Seneca. I asked him if he knew that the road running through the old plantation was the one over which Braddock and George Washington marched with their troops on the ill-starred campaign to capture Fort Duquesne, before the Revolutionary War. No, he did not know that, but he had seen a heap of Yankee soldiers streaming over that road toward Washington after the first Battle of Bull Run. "Uncle Jim" cleared up another foggy point for me at this particular time. In answer to my direct question he explained that the driveway into the cemetery through the McClellan Gate and on up to the mansion house, was the original main entrance and road into the estate in the antebellum days, and the only one of any consequence. He showed me lines of stately maple trees for which he had dug the holes and helped to plant many years ago, and he pointed out where the coffins had been piled in long rows "like cordwood" toward the end of the war, when they began to bury the Union dead in Arlington. He knew where Quartermaster Gen. Montgomery Meigs was buried and said he helped to dig his grave. And thus James Parks prepared with his own hands the last resting place of the man who probably did more than anyone else to convert a large part of the plantation into a national cemetery, where sleep a legion of America's heroic dead.
The family of "Uncle Jim's" father and mother was not exceedingly prolific, considering his own record of 22 children. There were only 9 children, five boys and four girls; only one other besides himself survives, a sister named Martha. His father was named Lawrence and his mother was Patsy Clark. His brothers were George, Perry, Robert and Lawrence, while his sisters were Amanda, Martha, Matilda and Leanna. They were all born slaves at Arlington House plantation. When I asked him about acquiring his freedom he reminded me that Mr. Custis had provided in his will for the liberation of all his slaves within five years of his death. Such indeed is a fact, but as he died in October, 1857, and as President Lincoln's final Emancipation Proclamation was issued January 1, 1863, there might be some doubt as to which of these two documents was responsible for the freedom of the Arlington slaves. Nevertheless, "Uncle Jim" has no doubt in his own mind; it was his old master's will and not the famous proclamation that set him free. ***
Much to my surprise, I learned from my chronicler that "Maj. Custis" had never farmed the Arlington plantation to any considerable extent, and that except for an adequate vegetable garden for his own table, there was no extensive cultivation. The slave families were allowed to cultivate their own designated acres, and were even allowed to sell their produce in Washington. Many a time has "Uncle Jim" rowed a boatload of "garden truck" across the Potomac to sell to the city folk in Washington and Georgetown. There were not a great many slaves at Arlington at any time within his recollection, but down on the "White House Estate" on the Pamunkey River, a much larger plantation than Arlington, "Maj. Custis had about 500 head of slaves" and cultivated the land extensively. Most of the acres allotted to the slave families for their own use and profit were down toward the river shore, east of the old road that runs through the place and connects Georgetown and Alexandria; that part of the land now occupied by the Department of Agriculture and operated as the experimental farm. A few of them lived within what is now the National Cemetery, but none near the mansion house, around which all the adjacent land was deeply wooded. When I asked him about Fort Whipple, the Civil War earthen ramparts of which stood on the present site of Fort Myer, he recalled its frowning cannon quite clearly, and said he had helped to build Fort McPherson, which is still preserved within the walled cemetery inclosure. If "Uncle Jim" is in any degree proud of his long years of labor at Arlington, it is because he was often intrusted to "boss" some particular work with other men under him and that there never has been anything against his record. Throughout our long talks he never tries to impress me with his importance now or then, and he never pretended to anything he was not, or had not been. During our first meeting, when I had inadvertently suggested he had perhaps been a house servant, the aristocracy of the black people in slavery ******* he promptly disavowed the fact and stated that as a slave he had never been anything other than a "field Han'". I wanted him to recall, if he could, when it was that the old stable building burned down, inasmuch as I have thus far been unable to ascertain the fact with entire accuracy. He remembered the fire, but could not say just when it happened, except that "it must a' been nigh onto 25 or 30 years ago." ***
Again I was touched the deep well of "Uncle Jim's" recollections when I asked him if he and the other slaves were well treated by the master of Arlington. He assured me he had always been well treated and knew nothing to the contrary with respect to the other slaves. According to "Uncle Jim" no one was allowed to "tech airy one of Maj. Custis' niggers, 'thout gitten' into trouble, no suh." Then he told me how every negro leaving the plantation had to have a pass or he might get taken up by the "patterolles," meaning patrols, I gathered, or anyone, perchance, thinking to earn a few dollars by intercepting some runaway slave for whose capture a reward would be offered by the master. Apparently, such passes were not hard to obtain from "Major Custis" at Arlington. Frequently when some slave wanted to leave the place for a few days, perhaps to make a visit, and asked for permission and a pass, Mr. Custis would pretend at first to deny the favor, but always yielded and wrote the pass, or ordered it issued. The recipient of the pass almost invariably discovered that he had been granted leave for more time than requested, sometimes twice the amount. That they presumed upon the old gentleman's kind heart and good ****** is fairly certain, Because, relates "Uncle Jim," when any of them thus wanted to be away for a week or a few days, they always needed a little money, which they seldom had. After securing the necessary pass, the next request would be for some money to provide for their meager wants. To this Mr. Custis would say, "Money, I haven't any money. I don't work; what do you want with money?" The explanation being furnished, he would usually write out an order and direct that it be presented to "Miss Mary" at the big house. "Miss Mary" was Mrs. Robert E. Lee, Mr. Custis' only child: and when the order was exchanged for money it was usually discovered to be double the amount coaxed from the master. Asked if he recalled Mrs. Lee quite clearly, he replied, "Jus' same as 'twas yestiddy; I up to de big house 'most every day." Naturally, he has a good recollection of "Cul'nl Lee" also, notwithstanding the fact that much of the time he was not at Arlington, inasmuch as he was away on duty with his troops. Sometimes his family was with him and they were gone from Arlington House for several years, as was the case when he was ordered to West Point as superintendent of the Military Academy, but often they remained at Arlington until he came home on leave of absence. "Uncle Jim" knew all the Lee children and named them in order in which they were born.
Old "Uncle Jim" Parks comes very near to personifying the fabled "Old Uncle Ned" in the ancient song we have all heard since childhood. He is a page from the past; a living counterpart, almost, of the characters Thomas Nelson Page portrays so well in his immortal stories of the old South. His mind is a storehouse of interesting historical information about Arlington, the Custis family and the Lees of Virginia; and if he could write a book about his eventful years it would surely be worth publishing. A long life to "Uncle Jim;" may he eclipse the longevity record of his old grandfather, George Clark, and some day walk or ride with me over the completed Memorial Bridge across the Potomac from Lincoln's white temple to Arlington.
