By Walter Lunt
(Part one of a two-part series)
The speaker
was forceful and eloquent, described as “unequaled except by Frederick
Douglas.” His name was Henry Bibb, a runaway slave who stood before a friendly
and sympathetic audience in Windham in 1849. His talk was about the evils of
human bondage and the abolishment of slavery.
Windham's Walker House, circa 1850, was once a
stop on the Underground Railroad.
PHOTO BY WALTER LUNT
Although slavery
had been outlawed in Maine and Massachusetts decades earlier, resistance still
persisted in many parts of the North due to cotton interests, the soon to be
enacted Fugitive Slave Act and outright bigotry.
In the book Maine’s
Visible Black History (Tilbury House, 2006), co-author H.H. Price describes
how runaway slaves from the South were aided by blacks, whites and Native
Americans either by sailing vessels, horse-drawn carriages or even railway. In
fact, as rail transportation was emerging in the 1830s, the terms agent,
station master and conductor were commonly used and understood; soon
after, they were taken up in connection with helping fleeing slaves, or passengers.
The new vocabulary may have influenced the term Underground Railroad (URR).
Runaway
slaves traveling overland and bound for Canada fanned out from Portland on URR
routes to Windham, Gorham, Westbrook, Cumberland and Yarmouth. Others sailed on
coasting ships to the Maritime provinces in Canada.
Dark passage
along land routes was dangerous, both to the runaway and to the “conductor.”
Fines reaching into the thousands of dollars and even jail time awaited those
caught aiding and abetting fugitive slaves.
As a result,
station masters at stops along the way had to be clever and resourceful
in the fabrication of hiding spots. Some were downright creative, even cunning.
One such secretive
hideaway was located in Windham’s old Walker farm (the former Mugford house) on
River Road in the Newhall neighborhood. Carla LaRoche, who grew up in the
house, says her brother found the “secret room” by accident while exploring the
basement. The south wall, ostensibly the inside of the foundation, was actually
a build-out. Behind it was a small dark room…with no door. The actual entry-way
was hidden by the bottom of a staircase that lead to the first-floor kitchen. When
not in use, the base was suspended two inches above the basement floor and
could be raised higher to allow entrance to the secret room. The “squeeze in”
entrance, barely big enough for a person to crawl through, was blocked when the
staircase was fully extended. The weight of a person stepping on to the
stairway from the kitchen would drop the base, making a distinct noise which,
according to LaRoche, was the signal for any occupants of the room to hunker
down and stay quiet. During an inspection of the basement by a constable or
slave master, the entrance was not visible, as long as the occupant remained
standing on the staircase.
“You could
only go in that hole when the stairs were in the up position,” said LaRoche,
“someone would stand on the stairs while (the authorities) searched the
basement.”
LaRoche’s
mother, Carol Rogers, the current owner of the sprawling building (now a
private assisted living facility), said the great-great grandson of Charles
Walker, who built the house in 1850, visited in 1970s and confirmed that family
tradition indicated the house had indeed been a stop on the underground
railway.
Next
time, Windham Quakers and others also assisted in the secret journeys and concealment
of runaway slaves. <