|
He paid her, not for her, and Harriet
Wood made sure he did.
Born in a small town in northern Kentucky, Wood guessed that
she entered the world in 1818 or 1820, but no one knew for
sure. Moses Tousey owned her then and when he died in 1834
after a series of misfortunes, she was sold to a Louisville
man named Henry Forsyth. She toiled two years for him, and
when Forsyth’s business fell on hard times, he sold Wood to
William Cirode, a French immigrant who was living “a version
of the American dream.”
Cirode purchased Wood in Lexington and, because he was
“restless,” he moved to New Orleans shortly afterward,
taking her with him. Although he seemed to prosper there for
a time, Cirode found himself in dire financial troubles in
early 1844, so he abandoned his family and sailed to France.
His wife, Jane, took the slaves she’d retained and returned
to Kentucky, and then she took Wood to Ohio, which was a
free state.
Agreements between Kentucky and Ohio meant that Harriet Wood
was still a slave until Jane Cirode freed her, which
happened at some point in 1848. Finally, Wood was free and
she had the papers to prove it.
She didn’t have them with her, though, when Zebulon Ward
conspired to kidnap her and take her to market to sell back
into slavery. The papers never surfaced during a lawsuit
challenging Ward’s ownership of Wood. She didn’t have them
when he sold her down the river to Natchez.
And for 17 years, she burned at what he’d done…
Don’t be surprised if, as you’re reading Sweet Taste of
Liberty, you begin to feel rather overwhelmed. There’s a
lot going on inside this book.
The names, firstly, may cause you to page back and forth to
remember who’s who; that this is a highly-peopled account is
only a part of the issue, never mind the similarity of some
surnames. You’ll truly have to take your time here – which
you won’t wish to do, since it’s a story you’ll want to
gobble up.
Author W. Caleb McDaniel tells a breathless tale with an
ominously dark feel through many of its pages, because the
monsters here were real. Yes, it’s a complicated tale that
races from north to south, but the righteous audacity that
ultimately occurred in Ohio in 1870 makes it worthwhile,
fist-pumping, and satisfying.
Historians, of course, will want Sweet Taste of Liberty.
Feminists shouldn’t miss it. Folks with an opinion on
reparations should find it. All of you will want to take it
home.
|
