They shot at my boots and told me to dance...

I have a 15 page paper due on Friday. Thanks to the wonderful website JSTOR, I should be able to find enough sources to write a paper on a topic that I know very little about. At the moment, I should be in the basement or on the 2M floor of Gorgas library finding the other sources for my book. Instead, I've been sitting here for the last four hours, wasting resources that other people could be using to do school work or research, to search Lawrence Arms videos and trying to not feel like a creep lurking on peoples' Facebook pages (which failed, by the way. I always feel like a creep for lurking).

So I was at my sister's house for Thanksgiving dinner with my family. It was me, my mom, dad, brother, sister, brother-in-law, and my dad's sisters and their spouses and offspring. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Up until a couple of years ago, we always did Thanksgiving with my mom's side of my family. As I was riding with my brother down to Caroline and Mark's house, we passed our grandmother's old house and I commented that it's still weird to me that we'll never have a family gathering there or set foot in that house ever again.

When I got to town Wednesday afternoon, I went straight to my sister's house. She and Momma were already cooking. If there is something that my family does well, it's cook. I'm for real. Paula Dean can kiss my ass. My mom and sister are the best cooks in the world. As Caroline was getting reading to make the dressing, I saw the note cards with the recipe on the counter. Step-by-step directions written in cursive and neat lines on the cards. It's handwriting that I will always recognize, handwriting that always makes me smile and always makes me a little sad. Before she started mixing the ingredients, my sister took a picture off of the coffee table to set on the kitchen counter. It was a picture of our grandmother. I never asked her why she put that picture in there, but I'm pretty sure I know why.

Back to Thursday. We had all finished eating and my aunt's husband was filling out a family tree, asking our names and birth dates and all of that shit. It bugs me a little bit that the dude that my aunt is married to knows more about my family than I do, but whatever. What really aggravated the hell out of me was when my aunt was telling me about a relative, I think great-great-great-great grandfather, and said that he was in the ledger at the courthouse listed as a slave trader. She then asked me if it feels good to be superior. I can't begin to describe how much this rubbed my ass the wrong way. Superior for what? Because someone four or five generations ago made a living selling people? No, that doesn't make me feel superior. I think it's disgusting and anyone that believes that it makes them superior makes me disgusted. Honestly, I'm ashamed to know that, even if she may be wrong. I hope like hell that she's wrong. I don't know much about my family history. Hell, I can't even tell you the names of my great-grandparents. All I know is that a bunch of them grew up dirt poor and worked for everything that they had. That's what makes me feel superior.

Whoa, damn. It gets really high up here on my moral soapbox. I should probably go find those books for my paper. Fifteen pages due by 11:30am Friday. I think I can do it. Then I've got a 10 page paper due next week for another class and I already have the sources for that one. Yeah, this paper is going to be my bitch. Both of them are.

I officially drank too much this past weekend. Last night was the culmination of beating the hell out of my insides when I passed out before 9pm. I woke up to a nice make-up job and a bunch of new pictures of me looking like a turd. It's a good thing that I'll be too busy to drink over the next couple of weeks.

The computer desks in Gorgas keep fucking up my left arm. Every time I sit at one of these for more than a few minutes, it aggravates a nerve in my left arms and the pinky and ring fingers on my left hand go numb. It's weird. It took me a couple of days to realize that I wasn't stroking out.

Yep, I'm outta here. Gotta get them books. I'm going to give you what is probably the most depressing song in the Off With Their Heads discography. That's really saying something, too. Read the lyrics to any of their songs. Regardless of how upbeat the songs sound, the subject matter is some heavy shit. Addiction, depression, suicide. Maybe that's why I like them so much. I love the hell out of some sad songs and these take the cake lyrically.

Playing the role of the idiot...Not me

This is going to be the only time that I bring this up. I'm going to say as much I as I can try to get off of my chest and be done with it. Also, I'm not using names. I'm not that much of an asshole.

A little back story. I had been kinda seeing this girl for a little bit. By kinda, I mean that we weren't actually dating, but we hung out a good bit and I was really into her.

Fast forward to about three weeks ago. Shit was over. No big deal. We just both knew that I was way more into her than she was me. I didn't lose any sleep over it and I wasn't bummed out or anything. We're still cool.

Over supper last night, I found out that someone that I consider a pretty good friend has been making a solid effort to date her. This is were I have a problem. If any of you know me at all, then you know that I'm very, very loyal to my friends. I consider them an extension of my family. As such, when my friends date someone or I date someone, that person becomes off limits to the rest of us. I respect that rule in regards to my friends and they respect that rule in regards to me. It's not an issue of how serious it was with that person, it's that we showed interest in someone for a period time. That said, about a year and a half ago I had sex with the dude's ex-girlfriend (which is where this blog got its name). Even though it had been a couple of years since they dated when it happened, I still told him. I respect my friends enough and hold them in a high enough regard to be honest with them.

That's what I'm getting at here. It was never serious to begin with. This is what has annoyed me the most about this whole thing. If he would have just said that he had an eye for her, I would have no problem whatsoever. I don't mean asking if I was okay with it. That's dumb. We're all adults. People are going to do what they want. Instead, he tried to keep it from me like I wouldn't find out. People find out, and I don't like knowing that someone I consider a good friend would sneak around and do things behind my back. I'm not an idiot, so don't try to play me like one. I show my friends a level of honesty and respect that I expect in return.

I'm not mad. I'm not upset. I'm not losing sleep or plotting some dumbass scheme in my head. I'm just annoyed. That's all. I wanted to get this off of my chest and it will be the last that I mention it. So please, for the love of not being an asshole, don't spout off to me about this. If you do feel the need, you've probably got my phone number. Hardly anyone calls and it would be kinda nice to get a phone call from someone that isn't my mom, dad, or sister.

It needs to be Wednesday afternoon at 2 o'clock in the afternoon already. I haven't crossed the Etowah County line since the first of October and even though I'm only going to be there for about a day and a half, I'm really stoked about going home, going to my home bar, and seeing my family.

Also, the Iron Bowl is Friday! To be totally honest, I really think that the cow college will be on the victorious end. That quarterback that they have is pretty damn good and he has shown excellent composure the past few weeks considering there seems to be someone else trying to drag his name through the mud every couple of days. Is any of the stuff true? I don't know. Honestly, I don't give a damn. The dude is one hell of a football player and the people that are trying to pull him under are probably just pissed that he isn't playing for them (not like it would matter, Mississippi State, you guys are still going to stay near the bottom of the SEC West). I'm just ready to go to my second Iron Bowl in person and watch what is probably going to be the best damn football game that I'll see for a long time.

My best friend is in the hospital. I'm not going to put the gory details on here because I'm pretty sure that would aggravate the hell out of her, but I've been friends with this girl since at least middle school and she's been like a sister to me for a long time. I don't pray, but I'm hoping like hell that everything turns out alright.

This past Monday(the 15th), was one year to the day that I quit smoking. If you want to know what motivated me to quit, Monday the 15th was also one year to the day that my grandmother died of lung cancer caused by, you guessed it, smoking.

Okay. my throat is scratchy and I have to be at Jimmy John's at 7am to pick my schedules for the Christmas break and spring semester. Oh joy. Considering how high the turnover rate is there and that I've been there for over a year now, I should be able to get the shifts that I want.

If I'm not back before then, which I won't be, Happy Thanksgiving! Be safe, eat too much, and drink too much.

I'm done.

Breaking the Broken

Someone asked me last night when Suburban Skies was going to do a reunion. I said never. The person tried to change my mind. I still said no. I wrote this song about Suburban Skies the other day. It's simple, but that was intentional. All of our songs were simple. It doesn't have a name yet.

I met them all when I was 16 and no one liked us or so it seemed
And we would stand around all alone
Singing songs on weekend nights
Arm in arm, it all felt right
We never thought that this would end

And I had your back and you had mine

Load up in a beat up truck
1000 fliers and endless punk rock
We thought that we would change the world
Drive around as we sing and shout
But no one cared so we just got loud
Running in circles never felt so pure as we went

And I had your back and you had mine

As we got older things all changed
We lost touch and went our separate ways
I never grew up but we all changed
That last time we had just two
Sang all the songs that we all knew
But I knew that this whole thing was dead

And I had your back and you had mine

So yeah, that's it. I could probably work on it a little more, but I think I'm gonna leave it like it is.

Rock the No!

Today is Election Day. In my beloved Alabama (that would have been a sarcastic statement when I was in high school), we get to choose our new governor, a product of the Alabama Democratic Machine and some old fucker that looks like Mr. Burns and insists on having "Doctor" added before his name on the ballot.

I'm tired of this. I've been getting mailings at least 4 times a week from Phil Poole and Gerald Allen about which one is more of a son of a bitch and doesn't deserve my district's seat in the Alabama senate (I'm registered to vote in Tuscaloosa). I really don't like knowing that the Alabama Republican Committee has my mailing address. Same for the Democratic Party.

Here's the honest truth. Regardless of who you vote for, nothing is going to change. They can talk about how much they plan to do for your city/county/district/state/country/whatever but once they're elected and most of the times even before, there are interest groups with money talking in their ears saying that they will help finance their campaign if they do them some favors in the legislature or give them a few kickbacks. The people running for office don't give two shits and a bucket of piss about any of us.

I remember 5 years ago when I registered to vote. I was 18 and surprisingly, not as bitter a person as I am now. I walked into the Etowah County Courthouse upright with my head held up because I was doing my patriotic duty of registering to vote, goddammit! The first time that I voted was the next year, in the primaries for the 2006 midterm elections. My grandmother was still alive and working as a poll sitter at my voting location. I walked in, was given a ballot, and watched her smile as my name was marked off of the ledger of people that had voted. When I put my ballot in the machine, she walked up to me and put the "I Voted" sticker on my shirt. I still have that sticker, but it's stuck to my laptop now, and covered with a Lucero sticker.

That said, I'm not voting today and probably not ever again (with the exception of the Sunday alcohol sales vote in February). It just doesn't change anything.

That's enough of that. I'm gonna get off of my high horse now and find something to do that doesn't involve drinking. I'm drying out this week, at least until this weekend.

Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit "Cigarettes and Wine" from Tugboat Productions on Vimeo.

These are the voices which we hear in solitude

Yeah, I haven't been here since June. Sue me. Four months ain't that long. Right now, I should be studying for the two midterms that I have tomorrow. I have been, to be honest...kinda. I'm more concerned with one than the other, though, so it should be fine.

So I was reading on the front steps of the library yesterday evening doing some reading when I ended up in a lengthy conversation with someone. If you're not aware of this, I'll graduate in August (assuming that take summer classes and don't fuck up between now and then.) It has been well-published in the hallowed tripe that is the Asswipe Chronicles that I have something just short of a mountain of student loan debt. Blah, blah. Just like pretty much everyone else that goes to college that doesn't have a parent that owns a dealership (Bro, my dad totally owns a dealership).

Let's back pedal here for just a second. I met with one of my professors last week and she recommended a bunch of shit that I could do after I graduate; the Peace Corps, Americorps, Teach for America (which I have given some pretty serious though), the 5th year teacher certification program at Alabama, the State Department Foreign Service exam, civilian work for the Pentagon or CIA (no), and taking advantage of the extreme shortage of social studies teachers in the Washington, D.C. area (because some places actually don't hire football coaches to teach history). I'm gonna take a pretty solid look at most of those.

Back to the original story. I mentioned all of these things and realized what I really want to do when I get the hell out of college.

1) Pay off the shitload of money that I owe as fast as possible.
2) This is the most important part. I want as few financial obligations as possible.

That's my official goal in life. Not to start a family. Not to see the world. Not to get a blumpkin. I want to live as simple as possible. I'll grow my own food. No cable. No internet.

We'll see how that works out. Oh yeah, since the last time that I was here, I got a new bike. It's pretty bitchin'. I call it the Death Star.

Anyways, this is dumb. I gotta go study. At the rate I'm going, see ya next year.

Oh yeah, I'm in love with the one that's singing this song.

Sometimes you just gotta let the devil out

Hey all. I haven't been here in a while. I don't know why I just referred to this blog as a place. Oh well.

How have things been? Good I hope. Shit is different here.

First and foremost, I joined a gym. Yeah, a gym. With weights. And cardio machines. I know, I know. "But Drew, you hate gyms and the meatheads that fill them." True. I do hate meatheads. That's why I quit going to the Rec Center gym. You'd look around and just see a bunch of dudes pretty much masturbating to their own reflection in the mirror as they lifted weights. The one that I joined though, is pretty anti-meathead. They actually have an alarm that they sound any time someone starts acting like a meathead. I haven't heard it yet, but I've only been a member for two days.

So far, Tuscaloosa hasn't been as boring during the summer as I anticipated. Work has been slow and I haven't made much in tips (pretty much just enough to be able to eat once or twice a day), but I'm staying busy. Like I said, I joined a gym and work out for about an hour and a half or two hours everyday. I've still managed to snag a couple of beers most days of the week. I've also been reading a bunch about the Industrial Workers of the World. If there's something that I have a sincere interest in, it's militant labor. Their stories are amazing and I look forward to reading more.

I know though that things will start to stagnate soon. I hate stagnation. Stagnation leads to boredom. Boredom leads to depression. I hate it. I let my life stagnate for the longest time and I pretty much stayed depressed and it was tough to deal with. I don't talk about it much because I feel like no one really gives a shit, but I have this desire to keep moving and getting into new things because if I stay too still or stay in one place for too long, I get depressed. More often than not, I'm depressed because there is nothing new in my world. There are places to see, but I can't afford to see them. I think Frank Turner put it best: "You won't find your precious answers by staying in one place."

That has to change. Making just enough to eat everyday has me nervous. My money is running out and I feel like I won't make enough to keep my bills paid. I'm not going to be a leech like I was last year. I can tell it's going to be hard though. Pretty much every worry that I have is because of money. I think I've gone on about that at length before, so I won't start in on it again. Honestly, I almost wish that I had never gone to college so I wouldn't be buried under a mountain of debt. There are a lot of nights that I don't sleep because I keep thinking about it.

I'm gonna try to find a second job. I don't really have a choice in the matter. It's just a matter of finding places in a college town that will hire during the summer.

Maybe I just need to get the hell out of Tuscaloosa for a few days. One of the tracks that runs behind my apartment goes through Gordo and it moves pretty slow when it goes by. Maybe I could hop on, ride to Gordo, and get someone to meet me there and bring me back. Maybe I just need to go walk down the tracks for a bit considering I haven't in forever. I just gotta let the devil out for a little bit.

I guess I'm done. I need to go to the gym. I've been sitting here in the library for way longer than I intended. Maybe I won't take over a month to get on here next time. Maybe I'll have something that isn't me whining about money and boredom and stagnation. Who knows?

Prosser's Gabriel

Do you see that picture? That's Gabriel. In 1800 he organized a slave revolt near Richmond, Virginia. Since January, I've been researching him and his revolt and after four months of work, I've finally finished my paper on him. I'm proud of it and I'm going to post it here. It's long (14 pages) but if you read it, you might learn something.

Gabriel and the Richmond Conspiracy

In 1776, a child named Gabriel was born into slavery at Brookfield Plantation in Henrico County, Virginia. In 1791, a rebellion of the slaves broke out in the French colony of Saint-Domingue. By the year 1800, Gabriel was a grown man leased to work at other plantations in and around Henrico County. This sort of semi-freedom allowed Gabriel to interact with others in the area and allowed him to hear of the events in Saint-Domingue nine years before. Inspired by the events of Saint-Domingue and the harsh realities of the enslaved life, Gabriel raised an army of other slaves and planned a rebellion. If he was successful, he would change American history. If he failed, he would hang.

Four major factors played a role in Gabriel’s Conspiracy; the Haitian Revolution, the cruelty of life as a slave, the contentious election of 1800, and the desire for a society that was truly free for all, regardless of race or social status. These four factors are what inspired Gabriel to rise up against life as a slave and attempt to better the lives of all enslaved people in Virginia and the rest of the United States.

Nine years before Gabriel was to take Richmond, slaves on the French colony of Saint-Domingue decided to rise up in revolt against their masters. By 1789, 40,000 Africans a year were being brought to Saint-Domingue to work as slaves in the sugar cane fields. The total foreign trade of France that year was seventeen million pounds. Eleven million pounds of that trade came from Saint-Domingue.[1] There were close to 500,000 African slaves in Saint-Domingue in the year 1789, which was the year that the French Revolution began. These half million men and women toiled in the harsh conditions of the sugar cane fields and were the victims of violence and oppression. All the while, their hard work built massive amounts of wealth for their masters. An attempt at rebellion was made in 1790 led by a gens de couleur named Vincent Ogé, but it was crushed and he was executed. Ogé’s death made him a martyr and hinted at the idea of a future insurrection. To avoid this possibility, the French legislature decided in 1791 to grant limited rights to the affranchis, free blacks and mulattoes on the island, but the plantation owners ignored the change. Fighting broke out on the island between the affranchis and the whites and the slaves began to rebel.[2] Hoping to end the fighting, the French government granted citizenship to all affranchis, hoping that they would assist the whites in defeating the slaves, but the white colonists again ignored the desires of the French legislature and the fighting continued.

A tropical storm was upon Saint-Domingue on August of 1791. During the storm a group of slaves carrying torches met in an opening amongst the trees on the mountain Morne Rouge. There they chanted voodoo incantations and suckled the blood of a stuck pig. As final instructions were given, the slaves began their uprising. The gangs traveled from plantation to plantation, murdered the masters, and burned the plantations to the ground. There was some hope for a return to peace in the Northern District of the island, but Nathaniel Cutting wrote that the idea of tranquility in the Northern District “has been recently obscured by unexpected depredations of the Insurgents. For the past fortnight “those remorseless Savages” have amused themselves by burning the ripe cane fields in that area.” After a while the rebels began to spare the men, women and children of the plantations. Whites did not take the rebellion seriously. As the violence continued to grow, however, they allied with the affranchis against the rebelling slaves. By January 1792, the rebels had destroyed about sixty sugar plantations and two-hundred twenty coffee plantations.[3] The insurrection was at first about 100,000 slaves in broken up into large groups, led by Jean-François and Bissou. They were joined a month later by Toussaint L’Ouverture.

In February 1793, France went to war with England and Spain. Spain controlled the other half of the island on which Saint-Domingue was located and helped the slaves against the French colonists. Now at war with France, they offered the rebels a formal alliance in exchange for loyalty to the Spanish. In 1793, French commissioner Leger-Felicité Sonthonax abolished slavery in Saint-Domingue as a last ditch effort of gaining support, but it was too late. Toussaint and his band of soldiers fought with the Spanish and had won control of the North Province of Saint-Domingue for the Spanish.

By June of 1794, over two-thirds of the former French colonies in the West Indies were under British control, including Saint-Domingue. On 4 February 1794, the French legislature confirmed Sonthonax’s decree abolishing slavery and black support was now with the French. By 1799, the Spanish and the French had been expelled from Saint-Domingue. Toussaint was named Commander-in-Chief of Saint-Domingue with white officers under him. As soon as the British were gone, though, the French began to plot against him. A rebellion against him broke out but Toussaint was victorious and made himself First Consul for Life. After the situation in France had stabilized, Napoleon wanted to restore slavery. He sent an expedition of nearly 60,000 men to Saint-Domingue and Toussaint was captured and died in a prison in France. One of Toussaint’s lieutenants, Jean Jacques Dessalines, had to lead a second fight for independence, this time with the assistance of the affranchis. Both sides were ruthless in their fighting but by 1804, Dessalines was victorious and Saint-Domingue was an independent state.[4]

After the fighting had quelled in Saint-Domingue, the attitudes of whites toward blacks had changed. After the new regime had taken control of the island, most whites on the island had accepted the changes. The men socialized with the ex-slaves and the women pursued the black generals.[5] The blacks that were still laborers, however, were still looked down upon by the rest of the island’s society. When the expedition of Napoleon’s brother-in-law Charles Victor Leclerc arrived, the whites aligned themselves behind him. Once they realized that the Leclerc expedition was doomed to fail, they realigned themselves with the island’s black leaders. Dessalines declared the island’s independence and promised the whites their property in exchange for their allegiance. As a final break from France, Saint-Domingue was given its old Carib name, Haiti.[6]

The land holding, slave owning whites of the United States saw the events in Saint-Domingue as a cause for concern. They began to monitor every movement of the enslaved population and enacted laws that severely restricted their movements and few freedoms. Virginia governor James Monroe was familiar with the situation and said that “the occurrences in St. Domingo…doubtless did excite some sensation among our Slaves.”[7] Thomas Jefferson declared in 1787 “a little rebellion now and then a good thing.” His tone changed after the successful revolt in Saint-Domingue. He was now determined to prevent the arrival of information of the events of Saint-Domingue from reaching the United States. This would not be an easy task though, as Saint-Domingue was the States’ second largest trading partner, behind Great Britain. Saint-Domingue imported the majority of their goods from the United States and brought traders from the island into American ports, especially southern ports. Jefferson insisted that every crate, crewman, and missionary from the island were a threat to Virginia and the United States. [8]

Gabriel was born in 1776 into a life of slavery. He spent his life on the plantation of Thomas Prosser, Brookfield, six miles north of Richmond, Virginia. The youngest of three sons, he was trained as a blacksmith and was hired out to work other plantations in the Henrico County area. This semi-freedom allowed him interaction with other slaves and whites around the area. As refugees from Saint-Domingue fled the island, many of them came to the United States. To prevent the slaves that they brought with them from relaying the stories to slaves in the States, many states passed laws that forbade the entry of slaves from Saint-Domingue into the United States. Virginia, however, was not one of these states. The slaves in Virginia mixed and mingled with the slaves from Saint-Domingue and they told them the stories of the slaves rising against their white masters and fighting for their freedom. The interaction familiarized Gabriel with the rhetoric and revolution of the period. It is noted in the book Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802 that “Saint-Domingue served as an inspiration to Gabriel and completed his development…The distant figure of Toussaint…seemed to clarify the domestic situation and told him that if he dared, success might be within his reach.”[9]

Though he possessed a trade and was allowed to leave Brookfield to work at other plantations, he was not immune to the punishments that a slave received for violating white laws. Gabriel’s master, Thomas Prosser, was believed to have been a kind master and implemented only lax discipline towards his slaves. This changed on 7 October 1798 when Thomas Prosser died in his home.[10] Thomas Henry Prosser, Thomas Prosser’s son, inherited Brookfield and the slaves that came with it. Thomas Henry Prosser was well known around Richmond as a man to watch, but he was not widely admired. It was rumored that he was very cruel to his slaves and pushed them to produce more.[11] It was his desire for financial advancement that caused him to work them even harder and to loan his surplus slaves to other plantations.

In September of 1799, Gabriel made a move towards outright rebellion. Slaves did not regard stealing from a master as theft. Taking from an owner was seen as a sort of repayment for work performed. It was on this September night that Gabriel, along with his brother Solomon, and a slave named Jupiter from the plantation of Nathaniel Wilkinson attempted to steal a pig from the pen of former overseer Absalom Johnson. The men were caught and Johnson began to berate the three. Rather than fleeing, the men stayed. As he was yelling at them, Gabriel lunged at Johnson’s legs and the two men fell to the ground fighting. As Johnson was screaming and yelling, Solomon and Jupiter danced about encouraging Gabriel. Gabriel bit off a part of Johnson’s left ear.[12] Though pig stealing was considered a minor crime, attacking a white man carried the death penalty. The three men were brought separately before a segregated tribunal known as courts of oyer and terminer. Jupiter was charged with “Hogstealing” and sentenced to thirty-nine lashes at the public whipping post. Solomon was not accused of Hogstealing, but Johnson brought a complaint against him for threatening him during the fracas. Johnson’s complaint was dismissed and Solomon was a discharged from the court. Gabriel was finally brought to trial on 17 October and was charged with maiming Absalom Johnson. He was found guilty but managed to escape death by hanging through a loophole that gave him the “benefit of clergy.” If Gabriel could recite a Bible verse, his life would be spared and he would only receive lashes, be branded and released. However, if he was to be convicted again, the brand would not allow him to live a second time. Gabriel was imprisoned in the Henrico County Jailhouse until the date of his punishment but was free to go afterwards.[13] Rather than learning his lesson, Gabriel left the Henrico County Jailhouse with his desire to revolt still intact.

1800 was an election year, and the campaigns in Virginia were heated. Gabriel spent many of his days working in the city of Richmond and was able to notice that the politicians of the city were strictly divided along party lines. In 1798, the American people were split over a dispute with France. The Federalists were calling for war. The Republicans, including Vice President Thomas Jefferson, were in a state of shock and panic. The Federalist majority in Congress passed a series of laws in 1798 to eliminate political enemies, namely the Republican Party. The Alien and Sedition Acts were passed and made criticizing the President and Congress a crime. The people of Virginia were fed up and the legislature voted for secession. It was the threat of a civil war when Gabriel began to believe that if a slave revolt would ever be successful, it was now. Gabriel was hoping to throw his support behind whichever group would come out on top, whichever group would benefit the slaves the most.[14] It should be noted that during the rebellion in Saint-Domingue, the slaves there exploited the divisions in the French hierarchy to create their rebellion.[15]

By 1800, Gabriel was ready to rebel. The political climate made it an ideal time and those on the bottom of the societal ladder were drawn together. Richmond was a predominantly black city and the home of countless enslaved people that Gabriel hoped would be willing to join him. His plan was vague, but it was emerging. Gabriel expected the slaves to form an urban mob and take to the streets. He hoped that the violence from the fall election would gain his cause some allies and that the poor whites of the city would join them to spark a class war. Gabriel insisted that Quakers, Methodists, and Frenchmen were to be spared, as well as poor whites with no slaves. In mid-April of 1800, Governor James Monroe informed Vice President Jefferson of rumors of a “negro insurrection,” but the rumors quickly died and were forgotten.[16]

Gabriel had decided that he, his wife, and his brothers would no longer be slaves. They would have their freedom or they would die. He informed his brother Solomon and another of Prosser’s slaves, Ben, of his plan. They were to gather at either “Prosser’s blacksmith’s shop or in the woods” or the Brook Bridge. They would march to Richmond, building an army 1000 strong by the time they reached the city. Along the way, Gabriel planned to kill Thomas Henry Prosser and Absalom Johnson for their cruelties. As the group neared Richmond, they would split into three groups. The ones armed with cutlasses, knives, pikes, and muskets would take Capitol Square and seize the guns and munitions stored there. They would then take Governor Monroe hostage and force him to consider the slaves’ demands. The other groups would set fire to the warehouse district as the rebels in Saint-Domingue had done to the plantations there, hold Mayo’s Bridge, and fortify the city. While they awaited other slaves from other Virginia towns to join them, the rebels would raid the treasury and distribute the money between the soldiers. The plan was for enough citizens of Richmond to lose their lives to force the leaders to grant the rebels their demands. Gabriel planned to drink and dine in the city with the white merchants after he was victorious.[17] This desire to mingle with whites after the rebellion shows that Gabriel did not want to create an all-black nation as happened in Saint-Domingue, but instead wanted to be viewed as equal among whites.

Gabriel set out building his inner circle of planners. First, it was Solomon and Ben. They began to inform other slaves that they felt they could trust mainly other slaves with an acquired skill. Jupiter, Sam Byrd, Jr., and Jack Ditcher all soon agreed. Not long after George Smith and William Burton’s Isham had also agreed.[18] Sundays were a day off for the slaves and Gabriel and his inner circle spent those days recruiting soldiers for the fight and familiarizing themselves with the locations of weapons stockpiles in Richmond. Slaves with access to guns were sought out, as were those that could acquire other weapons.[19] As the number of enslaved recruits grew, Gabriel decided that it was time to begin recruiting in Richmond. Though he spoke with the slaves in the tobacco houses, he also spoke with unskilled white laborers and free black men. Gabriel’s speaking of a redistribution of the wealth of society and of radically restructuring society won him many more recruits. Gabriel wanted all of Virginian society to be viewed as equal. By speaking of a redistribution of wealth and societal restructuring, Gabriel was able to gain a wider base of support for his cause.

30 August was to be the night that the plan was put into action. The Brookfield slaves, after killing Thomas Henry Prosser and Absalom Johnson, would meet with slaves recruited from Henrico, Hanover, and Caroline Counties at the Brook Bridge. Gabriel and one hundred more would travel to Gregory’s Tavern, take the arms stored there and move on to Richmond under the cover of night. The group would split as they approached the town. Fifty of them would set fire to the warehouses, alerting the other parts of town. A second group would storm the penitentiary, where Governor Monroe had recently had gunpowder stored. The last group, led by Gabriel himself, was to head to the capitol building and hand out guns to the city slaves that joined them. Then they would await word that Norfolk and Petersburg had been taken.[20] In the days before 30 August, Gabriel and his men distribute swords to those who were to fight and estimated that there were 500 to 600 men. Saturday, 30 August finally arrived and they waited for night to fall. As they waited, the sky grew dark.

As the rain fell, the creeks began to rise and the wooden bridges washed away. Gabriel tried to get the word out as fast as he could that they were to meet at Prosser’s tobacco house the following night. One of Gabriel’s recruits, Mosby Sheppard’s Pharoah, began to reconsider his commitment. Pharoah consulted with another of the Sheppard slaves, Tom. Tom was never involved in the plot and suggested that they see Mosby Sheppard, the owner of Meadow Farm plantation that neighbored Brookfield.

Mosby Sheppard was up late in his tiny office when Pharoah and Tom visited him. They told him that the slaves were preparing “to rise,” and that Thomas Henry Prosser, Absalom Johnson, and William Mosby were to die first. Sheppard asked when it was to take place and they informed him it was that night. He then asked who the leader was. After hesitating, one of them finally said “Prosser’s Gabriel.”[21] Sheppard hurried to the plantation of William Mosby and warned him of the plan. They then raced across Henrico County warning other plantation owners. While they were out, they saw no slaves and William Mosby cursed Sheppard’s fears. As William Mosby was falling asleep, one of his house servants entered his room and asked if he knew of the plot. When he confirmed that he did, she confided him that they were to try again on Sunday night.[22]

Early that Sunday, Governor Monroe was warned of the plot and remembering earlier hints of an insurrection, decided to take no chances. He was determined to avoid having a public scare and intended to keep it a secret for as long as possible. Monroe has the munitions from the capital removed and stored in the penitentiary and appointed three aides-de-camp in anticipation of a fight.[23] To aide in the capture of Gabriel, Monroe placed a bounty of three-hundred dollars on his head.[24]

Gabriel was working to restore order and was waiting to hear from those in Caroline or Richmond. Ben found Gabriel with Ditcher and Solomon and none of them had heard the white patrols the previous night. Ben traveled to the plantation of Joseph Mosby in search of Thomas Goode’s Michael to inform him that the plan was on that night. Before he could make it any further, an unknown slave informed him that the plan had been blown and patrols were detaining blacks along the brook.

By the end of 1 September, six slaves were captured and thrown in the Richmond jail. Gabriel and Ditcher had managed to escape. The slaves that they had recruited, aware of what had happened, were preparing to escape. Frightened whites continued searching for those involved in the plot and Governor Monroe had the Virginia militia ready to fight. There were few urban whites that doubted the success of the insurrection. James Thomas Callendar wrote to Vice President Jefferson that “They could have hardly failed of success; for after all, we could only muster four or five hundred men of whom not more than 30 of them had Muskets.”[25]

As more and more of the conspirators were captured, Gabriel fled. Four miles from Richmond, he hid along the banks of the James River. A ship called Mary was stuck on a sandbar. On 14 September Gabriel dove into the water and swam towards the ship. When he was pulled on board, he asked to see the captain, Richardson Taylor. He told Taylor that he was a freeman heading for Norfolk. When asked for his papers, Gabriel could not provide any. A slave for hire named Billy was onboard when Gabriel came aboard and told Taylor that Gabriel was the slave that was being pursued. Gabriel insisted that his real name was Daniel, but Gabriel was a nickname of his. Taylor was a former overseer and knew of the consequences for carry a fugitive slave or a freeman without papers on his ship. However, Taylor converted to the Methodist faith, a Christian denomination that denounced slavery. In the end Taylor kept quiet about Gabriel being aboard his ship. On 23 September, the Mary put in at the wharves along Water Street in Norfolk. When Billy was walking along Water Street, he found an apprentice slave and told him that Gabriel was on the boat. The boy ran to the homes of the constables Obediah Gunn and Robert Wilson. The two constables reached the Mary almost simultaneously and arrested Gabriel. Taylor was also arrested on “suspicion of intentionally assisting and aiding in Gabriel’s escape.” On the afternoon of 24 September Gabriel was placed on a ship bound for Richmond and kept in solitary confinement.

Gabriel was held in isolation at the Richmond penitentiary until 6 October, when his trial was to begin. At his trial, Gabriel was charged with the crime of “Conspiracy and insurrection.” He was found guilty and sentenced to hang the next morning. Gabriel requested that his execution be pushed back to 10 October so that he could hang with two of his accomplices and his brothers. On the morning of 10 October, Gabriel, his brothers, George Smith, and Sam Byrd were taken to the gallows at Broad Street and 15^th Street. Gabriel was the last to be executed that day, and was hanged alone. In the end, twenty-seven men were executed for their role in Gabriel’s plot.[26]

Today Richmond is a city of monuments and memorials, but there is not a single one standing for Gabriel. The spot where he was hanged and buried is now a parking lot for Virginia Commonwealth University and a section of Interstate 95 runs over it. The only thing commemorating the event is a small marker on the side of East Broad Street that was placed there only after a group known as the Richmond Defenders for Freedom, Justice, and Equality lobbied the Virginia Department of Historic Resources to do so.[27] In 2007, Virginia governor Tim Kaine pardoned Gabriel, saying that "I recognize Gabriel Prosser for his courage and devotion to the fundamental Virginia values of freedom and equality and I am pleased to restore officially his good name."[28] The novel Black Thunder by Arna Bontemp was written about Gabriel in 1936. In 1968, Clifford Mason produced a play called Gabriel: the Story of a Slave Rebellion, which was set in a generic plantation setting. Most recently, Richmond musician Tim Barry featured a song about Gabriel called “Prosser’s Gabriel” on his latest record.

It was only a matter of time before the slaves in the United States would rise up for their freedom. The events in Saint-Domingue, the harshness of his life as a slave, combined with a heated political climate in 1800 and the desire for all to be free and equal brought about a momentous event in Virginia and American history. Though he was not successful, his plan is not forgotten. Gabriel saw a life beyond what he and countless others were born into and decided to take a stand and rise above. For his actions, Gabriel should be remembered as a hero.

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[1] C.L.R. James, “From A History of Pan-African Revolt (1938),” African Americans and the Haitian Revolution: Selected Essays and Historical Documents, ed. Maurice Jackson and Jacqueline Bacon (New York: Routledge 2010) 215.

[2] Maurice Jackson and Jacqueline Bacon, “Fever and Fret: The Haitian Revolution and African American Responses,” African Americans and the Haitian Revolution: Selected Essays and Historical Documents, ed. Maurice Jackson and Jacqueline Bacon (New York: Routledge 2010) 10-11.

[3] “Nathaniel Cutting to Thomas Jefferson,” The Papers of Thomas Jefferson: Volume 23: 1792, ed. Charles T. Cullen, Eugene R. Sheridan, George H. Hoemann, Ruth W. Lester (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press 1990) 51-52.

[4] C.L.R. James, “From A History of Pan-African Revolt (1938),” African Americans and the Haitian Revolution: Selected Essays and Historical Documents, ed. Maurice Jackson and Jacqueline Bacon (New York: Routledge 2010) 217-219.

[5] C.L.R. James, “From A History of Pan-African Revolt (1938),” African Americans and the Haitian Revolution: Selected Essays and Historical Documents, ed. Maurice Jackson and Jacqueline Bacon (New York: Routledge 2010) 220.

[6] C.L.R. James, “From A History of Pan-African Revolt (1938),” African Americans and the Haitian Revolution: Selected Essays and Historical Documents, ed. Maurice Jackson and Jacqueline Bacon (New York: Routledge 2010) 220.

[7] Maurice Jackson and Jacqueline Bacon, “Fever and Fret: The Haitian Revolution and African American Responses,” African Americans and the Haitian Revolution: Selected Essays and Historical Documents, ed. Maurice Jackson and Jacqueline Bacon (New York: Routledge 2010) 13.

[8] Chapter 11, “The Power in that Name,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 169.

[9]Chapter 3, “The Year 1800,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 46-48.

[10] Chapter 2, “An Upright Man,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 22.

[11] James Thomas Callendar to Thomas Jefferson, September 13, 1800. The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, Volume 32: 1800-1801, ed. Barbara Oberg, James P. McClure, Elaine Weber Pascu (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press 2005) 136-137.

[12] Chapter 2, “An Upright Man,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 31.

[13] Chapter 2, “An Upright Man,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 31-33.

[14] Chapter 3, “The Year 1800,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 35-38.

[15] Chapter 2, “Forging an Oppositional Culture: Gabriel’s Conspiracy and the Process of Cultural Appropriation, Ploughshares into Swords: Race, Rebellion, and Identity in Gabriel’s Virginia, 1730-1810, James Sidbury, (Cambridge, U.K.: University of Cambridge Press 1997) 59-60.

[16] Chapter 3, “The Year 1800,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 48-49.

[17] Chapter 4, “The Preparation,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 50-58.

[18] Chapter 4, “The Preparation,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 52

[19] Chapter 2, “Forging an Oppositional Culture: Gabriel’s Conspiracy and the Process of Cultural Appropriation, Ploughshares into Swords: Race, Rebellion, and Identity in Gabriel’s Virginia, 1730-1810, James Sidbury, (Cambridge, U.K.: University of Cambridge Press 1997) 66-67.

[20] Chapter 4, “The Preparation,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 64-65.

[21] Sheppard, Mosby. "Mosby Sheppard to Governor James Monroe 30 August 1800." http://www.lva.virginia.gov/exhibits/DeathLiberty/gabriel/sheppard10.htm

[22] Chapter 5, “A Plot Discovered,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 71-72.

[23] Chapter 5, “A Plot Discovered,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 72-73.

[24] James Monroe, Alexandria Times, published as The Times and District of Columbia Daily Advertiser, 15 September 1800.

[25] James Thomas Callendar to Thomas Jefferson, September 13, 1800. The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, Volume 32: 1800-1801, ed. Barbara Oberg, James P. McClure, Elaine Weber Pascu (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press 2005) 136-137.

[26] Chapter 7, “A Companion Picture,” Gabriel’s Rebellion: The Virginia Slave Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802, Douglas R. Egerton (Chapel Hill, North Carolina: The University of North Carolina Press 1993) 104-115.

[27] Ana Edwards, e-mail message to author, 20 April 2010.

[28] Jeremy Lazarus, “Virginia Governor Pardons Gabriel Prosser,” New Pittsburgh Courier 12 September 2007.