How Freedom Came to Big Pa

Prince Polite sits with his son working on a basket on St. Helena Island.

The Southern Workman, April 1916

“How Freedom Came to Big Pa” was published in the April 1916 issue of The Southern Workman, and was written by Grace House. House was one of the educators and principals at Penn School. She arrived in 1905 and took over for Laura Towne and Ellen Murray after their deaths. Sometime between 1905 and 1916 she recorded the story of Prince Polite and his grandfather’s experiences of Emancipation Day at Camp Saxton 1863. Polite was a basket maker on St. Helena Island who had learned the craft from his grandfather, named in the essay only as “Big Pa”, who had been born in Africa and was a victim of the Transatlantic Slave Trade. Prince Polite’s account, as told to Grace House, is one of the most remarkable and largely unknown accounts of Emancipation Day 1863 at Camp Saxton.

“Big Pa been a pretty old man when freedom come. Folks say he must be one hundred. His hair been white like the cotton, but his eyes could see as good as mine, an’ he ain’ never lost hearin’. When ‘Gun Shoot,’ our white folks all run away an’ we ain’ know what goin’ happen. But Father Abraham, he sent down people to look after the cotton an’ care for we poor colored folks. An’ the missionary teachers, they come down an’ set that great light for our Island which shine so bright up to this very day.

“One day Big Pa hear that Massa Lincoln done sent down a paper call’ the Emancipation Proclamation to say we’se-all free! An’ they been goin’ have a big celebration at Port Royal. All the people, who been able to, get up ‘fore day-clean (sunrise) an’ they take the babies in their arms, ‘cause they didn’t want the little ones lef’ out of freedom, an’ they start off to hear that paper what was goin’ set we poor slaves free!

“But Big Pa been too old an’ feeble to walk all that way. I wished mightily to go, but ain’ like to leave the old man alone. When all the other folks done gone, Big Pa stand up an’ call me, kind of soft like, ‘Son,’ he say, ‘I was born free an’ I’se goin’ to die free! Bring me my stick, ‘cause we’se goin’ to get our freedom!’ An’ I ain’ dast say nothin’, though I knowed he never could walk all that six miles to the ferry. But his eyes they burn’ like fire, an’ there was no denyin’ his look! I give him his stick in one hand an’ in the other I put my hand; so we started out to get our freedom.

“Surely the hand of the Lord was upon us that first day of January, 1863, for seem like Big Pa grow stronger an’ stronger as he walk’. I ain’ never goin’ forget that walk so long as breath is spare’ in my body. There been a-plenty people on the road, all hastenin’ to get their freedom too!

“At the ferry we got into a boat what took us round by the Old Fort to Camp Saxton, an’ there been a great crowd of people! I never seen so much of people before in all my life. I feel my heart most burst when I see all them Negro soldiers in their gran’ uniforms, an’ the bands playin’ an’ the flags a-flyin! Some of them been from our own Island, but they been most too proud to look at us on that day!

“When we done arrive, a man been readin’ the paper from the President. I couldn’ get the understandin’ of it, but Big Pa, he look like he could go on listenin’ until Judgment Day! There was a platform with a lot of white ladies an’ officers, and Colonel Higginson, he stood between his two color-bearers, Robert Sutton and Prince Rivers. They been so big they make the Colonel look small, though he been a sizable man himself.

“When the man finish’ readin’ the paper, somebody give a flag to Colonel Higginson. He took it in his hand an’ start’ to wave it, an’ of a sudden I feel Big Pa catch me hard by the shoulder an’ then he begin to sing: -

‘My country, ‘tis of Thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of Thee I sing!’“

At first only one of two join’ in, an’ then it seem like all the colored people of a sudden know that that flag belong’ to we people, an’ that for the first time we had a country of our own an’ nothin’ could keep them from singing it out.

“After that the Colonel spoke, but I never hear what he say ‘cause Big Pa lose all his strength after the singin’ an’ fall where he stood. They carry him away from the crowd a little an’ put him under one of the big oak trees. He lie so quiet I think he must be dead, when of a sudden he open his eyes an’ say, “There, son, don’t cry, but go tell the Colonel please I must for see him before I die!’

“When the Colonel come, he say, ‘Colonel, is you plum sure I is a free man?’ And I mind how the Colonel say, ‘You are as free a man as I am this day!’

“‘An’ do that flag belong to we colored folks same as you?’ he asked, wishful like, pointin’ to the flag wavin’ so brave an’ pretty in the bright sunshine.“

‘It does,’ said the Colonel.

“‘Colonel, if I been a soldier could I have that flag to cover my coffin at the funeral – could I, Colonel?’ an’ Big Pa’s voice kind of trembled. ‘Please, Colonel, you couldn’ let me enlist today, could you? I know I’se a old man, but I’se got some strength yet in my arms an’ if I could serve my country an’ my flag for one day, I could die proud an’ happy! I ain’ got but one wish in all the world now, an’ that is to have the flag cover me when I die!’

“Then the Colonel ben’ over an’ take Big Pa’s hand, ‘I can’t let you enlist now, but I can promise you that your country’s flag shall cover you when you die.’ ‘My country’s flag, my country’s flag,’ said Big Pa, kind of soft like – ‘Thank the Lord, I born free an’ die free!” Then he just smile’ an’ shut his eyes. He never open’ them no more on earth!”

The above excerpt is from pages 222 to 225 of the April 1916 issue of The Southern Workman.