Downing's Restaurant

When I lived in Washington, DC, I spent a lot of time on the mall, visiting the museums and attractions, whether I had company or not. It was a great way to enjoy our nation's history. I haven't yet been able to get to the latest addition to the national mall in Washington, DC– The National Museum of African American History and Culture. It opened its doors on September 24, 2016 after thirteen years of planning. Since from its opening day, tickets have been hard to come by, the Washington Post ran a series of articles on various people and artifacts contained therein. 

Photo Credit: Alan Karchmer

 

One of my good friends, who still lives in the DC area, called me at some point during this series to tell me how amazed she was to see an article about Downing’s Restaurant. This New York oyster restaurant first appeared in my book The Abolitionist’s Secret, the second book in the Cotillion Ball Series. It was the Fitzpatrick family’s favorite place to celebrate major and minor events over the years and has appeared in several other books in the series as well. 

 

So if even my best friend was unaware I had done my homework, and that I hadn’t pulled the name out of my imagination, I thought it was time I dug a little deeper into the men who owned Downing’s. 

 

Thomas Downing was the son of freed slaves, and lived in New York City, where he began a catering business that evolved into a restaurant. He specialized in oysters, and could be seen daily rowing out to the fishermen and hand-picking the oysters which would show up on his restaurant tables each evening. His was a first-class operation, opening in the 1820s, and featured a plethora of oyster dishes, including poached turkey stuffed with oysters, a holiday favorite. His growing wealth and his vital role in ending slavery earned him a lauded status in New York City’s black community. 

Thomas Downing

 

While his reputation as a restaurant owner grew over the years, what he did in private was what made him a natural candidate for inclusion in the National Museum of African American History. Along with his sons George and Peter, he provided a vital cog in the Underground Railroad prior to the Emancipation Proclamation. While the local wealthy and powerful enjoyed the food offered in the restaurant, Thomas’ son George directed slaves on the run to the basement of the restaurant, where they’d be safe from the bounty hunters, at least for the night. They helped runaway slaves get to Canada from 1825 to 1860. 

 

George Downing was born in 1819 in New York City. Thomas made certain George got a good education, sending him to a private school and then the old Mulberry Street school. It was at Mulberry Street where he formed lasting relationships with Charles and Patrick Reasoner, Henry Highland Garnet, Alexander Crummell and James McCune Smith, all of whom became active in the abolitionist movement. His abolitionist activities began while he was still underage, when he smuggled a young black man from jail. George was arrested and later released after paying for the slave. George and his father both lobbied the New York legislature for equal suffrage, and through their ties to men of influence politically from their restaurant and catering activities, became active both above ground and underground. 

 

In addition to opening his own restaurant, George managed the US House of Representatives’ dining room, which gave him unparalleled access to high-level politicians of the day. Once the Civil War ended, and the Underground Railroad was no longer needed, George worked on a variety of issues, most notably desegregation of the schools. 

 

Here are a couple excerpts from The Abolitionist’s Secret, to show how Downing’s Restaurant and their basement activities were woven into the story line: 

 

 

New York, April 1856

 

The hair on the back of Heather Fitzpatrick’s neck rose. She glanced around the opulent restaurant, trying to find the cause of her discomfort. Her eyes locked with those of a military officer sitting with two other men at a table across the room. A bolt of electricity ricocheted between them. Heather could not move for a moment, or break the contact. She finally forced her eyes away from him and placed the menu in front of her face.

“Whatever is the matter, dear?” Her mother asked. “Don’t tell me you are coming down with the same stomach upset that Jasmine has.”

“No, Mother, it’s nothing. I feel fine.” She placed a hand on her stomach, willing it to stop fluttering about. 

Thomas Downing, a free man of color and the owner of the restaurant, came to their table. “Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick, how nice to see you again. And young Miss Fitzpatrick.” He nodded in Heather’s direction.

Heather’s mother, Charlotte, glanced up from the menu. “Hello, Thomas. We’re here tonight to sample some of your exquisite oysters.”

“Best in the city. You know, I row out every morning to the fishermen in the harbor and pick through their catch to find the finest oysters from the bay for my customers.” Thomas smiled, and white teeth flashed in his dark face. A bottle of chilled champagne sat in a bucket of ice. Thomas opened it with a flourish and filled the three glasses at the table with the bubbly pinkish liquid. 

 “The table setting is just lovely, Thomas,” Charlotte said. sliding off her long white gloves and touching the fresh flowers in the center of the table. “Your attention to detail is impeccable, as always.” 

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. That’s a mighty fine compliment, coming from you. Now, may I start you off with your usual appetizer?”

Heather’s father, George Fitzpatrick, answered, “I see no reason to break with tradition, Thomas.”

As Thomas departed to see to their appetizers, Heather said, “I love coming here. You know, my friend Mary Rose told me her family would not dream of coming to any restaurant owned by a Negro, regardless of the quality of the food.”

“Fortunately, we’re a bit more enlightened than that,” her father replied quietly. “We’ve known Thomas, and his son George, for a long time now, and we know the good they do for the cause. If, by us patronizing their restaurant, it enables them to help one more person, we are happy to come here.”

Charlotte turned her attention to Heather and George. “It’s so nice to have this quiet evening before we begin the season in earnest. Shall we toast to a successful Cotillion?” She raised her champagne flute.

  

***

              Looking over her shoulder before ducking into the dark alley, Heather followed her mother to the back of Downing's Restaurant. They both carried bundles in their arms. Charlotte knocked on a door that led from the alley into the restaurant. Mounds of oyster shells were stacked nearby. Heather wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of rotting seafood as they waited for admittance. 

The door finally opened quietly and they hurried into the bright, noisy kitchen. Without a word, they were led to the downstairs rooms, which housed the offices of the restaurant staff. When Charlotte cleared her throat, Thomas Downing looked up from his desk. His face registered surprise as he smiled at them. 

"Ah, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Miss Fitzpatrick, how nice to see you again."

"We wanted to bring you some clothes we no longer need. Perhaps you can find someone who might make use of them?"

They opened their bundles to show the array of housedresses, children's clothing and underthings. Thomas looked at them appreciatively. 

"Let me get my son, George. He will have more use for this than I will. I merely operate a restaurant. He runs the depot stop.”

Thomas hurried out of the office and down the hall. Quickly, he returned with George Downing, who glanced at the mound of clothing on the desk. “Thank you both. I do have someone in need of new clothing, so this will definitely help."

Thomas moved his gaze from the clothing to the women. “May I extend another apology to you both for having your dinner cut short last night? Those slave mongers don’t seem to mind destroying my restaurant’s reputation by interrupting business to find their missing persons.”

“Oh, Thomas, that’s quite all right,” Charlotte responded. “We know it was out of your control. However, we did happen to find something as we left that I think would be of interest to you and George.”

“What?”

Heather stood on her tiptoes and held on to George’s arm as she whispered to the men. “We found what the slave mongers were looking for, in the alley near your back door,” 

George shut the door to the office before he turned to the women. Despite the relative privacy of his office, he still spoke in a whisper as he asked, “What did you do with her? And the babe?”

Charlotte replied, “We did the only logical thing we could think of, and took her home with us. She and the baby are staying in our carriage house until we can deliver them back to you.”

“You mustn’t bring her back here. The bounty hunters have gone on upstate, which is where she will head next, so she must stay put for a week or so, until her trail goes cold. And one person has stayed behind to watch for her here.”

“Whatever shall we do?” Heather asked. 

Charlotte seemed to be lost in her own thoughts for a moment. Then, she brightened and turned to George Downing. “I have it!” Charlotte said as she grabbed Heather’s hands in her own. “We’ll employ her as a lady’s maid, to help Colleen get you and Jasmine ready for the Cotillion. Since there are two of you to dress, she’ll need the extra help.”

“Yes, that might work,” George whispered back. “I need to speak to her, though.”

“Yes, well or course. That’s why we’re here.” Charlotte grinned at the men. “Since we missed dinner last night, we would like to place an order to be delivered to the house. Could you arrange it?”

Thomas replied, “I will personally see to it, and I’ll have George deliver it to your home in an hour. It’s the least we can do, to make up for last evening.” 

***

 

Resources: 

https://restaurant-ingthroughhistory.com/2009/02/28/anatomy-of-a-restaurant-family-the-downings/

 

http://www.blackpast.org/aah/downing-george-t-1819-1903

 

https://nmaahc.si.edu/about/museum

 

 

The Tobacco Brides

A couple years ago, I wrote an article for USA Today and later for RWR Magazine on how 45 authors got together and wrote 50 novellas about mail order brides. The trope of mail order brides has been a staple in western romance for years, but the way these ladies packaged their product and featured one bride in each state was what made it new and different.  

Of course the concept of mail-order brides isn’t unique to America. It’s been a method of matrimony in all parts of the world and is still is use today. But I was surprised to find the concept in America didn’t start with the gold rush in the western United States, as originally thought. It really began with the first colony established in the country by the British. Jamestown. 

Jamestown in 1607 was established with the hope this new country would be capable of growing tobacco. At the time, England had a fierce addiction to the product, and men, women and children all had clay pipes and a need for tobacco. Most of the product was purchased from Spain, who owned the Caribbean islands along with Central and South America, so perfect for growing tobacco. Most of the incoming tobacco was smuggled into the country, in order to circumvent the hefty import tax Britain imposed on the product. So Britain wasn’t collecting the tax, and a lot of coin was being spent on the smuggled goods. They had to do something. 

Their first step was to offer the men of Jamestown a tract of land each to work. But what the men really wished for was the companionship of a woman. So England rounded up twelve women–one widow and eleven maidens–as the first shipment in 1619. They arrived on America’s shores and were put up for auction, the price being 120 pounds of tobacco for each woman. The ladies could reject any offers being put forth, and would be housed in appropriate quarters until a man captured their fancy. However, there were no reports that these first twelve were not wed by the eve of their arrival. The reason for the fee for the ladies helped to prove the men were industrious and hard-working and would be capable of supporting a wife and their future children. Only free men who owned land were eligible bachelors for these women. Indentured servants, who were working off the cost of their passage, were not eligible to marry until their servitude ended, typically lasting seven years. 

But who were these ladies? Where did they come from? The logical assumption is that early America was a disposal for those in England’s jails, as was the case in Australia in its early days. But that seems not to be the case for these Jamestown brides. The widow, Anne Rickard, had tired of her life in a London parish and wished for a fresh start in a new country. The reason why these ladies chose to make a treacherous overseas voyage was no different from the reasons American women chose to head west on wagon trains as mail order brides–a lack of available men in the parts of the world where they were located. An economic depression in England made men hesitate to marry and have a family to support. England also worried about a dwindling supply of people in the colony, since there was loss from disease, accidents and hunger. 

Bringing women to the colony and beginning to settle it by building churches and then schools for the forthcoming children seemed to be a good idea. A call went out from the Virginia Company for “young, handsome and honestly educated maids.” All those willing had to submit letters of recommendation and to have someone vouch for them in person at the Virginia Company in London. These ladies came from a multitude of social backgrounds. Some were the daughters of working class families, some came from the homes of titled gentlemen. The Virginia Company was very interested in the homemaking skills each woman possessed. If they could cook, bake, spin yarn, sew, make butter and cheese, so much the better. The Virginia Company outfitted these ladies for the voyage with clothing,  bedding, gloves and white caps, called coifs, which they could wear once they married. 

The fee rose from 120 pounds to 150 pounds of tobacco. The next shipment of ladies were 90 in number. In total 144 Tobacco Brides were brought to the shores of America by the Virginia Company, between 1619 and 1622. Only six of them survived longer than six years in Jamestown. 

Resources: 

http://cigarhistory.info/Cigar_History/Trade_tobacco_for_wives.html

http://www.historytoday.com/misha-ewen/real-wives-jamestown

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tobacco_brides

http://www.internationallovescout.com/scholarly-research/a-short-history-of-mail-order-brides

Where Do You Find Inspiration?

Most authors get asked this question quite a bit. And I’m sure most of us have as many different answers as there are books out there. When I began my writing journey, I drew on my own family dynamics for my stories. One of my early published works was about three sisters who had a troubled past with each other. My three sisters spent months trying to guess which of the characters was molded after them. It was a great deal of fun hearing them give their reasons why they thought Anne, or Charlotte, or Emily was molded after them. I never told them who was correct. 

https://www.amazon.com/Blame-Brontes-Becky-Lower-ebook/dp/B07TJ2PVT5/ref=sr_1_9?keywords=becky+lower&qid=1581891734&sr=8-9

As I progressed through my career, my inspiration grew from observing people in public places, overhearing little snippets of conversation and wondering what the story was before those words were spoken and what would come after. Often, a few lines from a song or something I’d read stayed with me for months or years. 

When I was living in a crowded suburb of DC, I needed an escape from civilization as much as possible, so I bought some land in the West Virginia mountains and had a one room log cabin built on it. It was only about a two-hour drive from my home during the week, so I’d head out there every weekend I could. My dog and cat took the trip with me and my cat never failed to get car sick as we wove our way through the mountain roads. 

Out in the sticks of West Virginia, there was only one radio station I could pick up, and it was country. My dad liked country music, so the tunes that were played reminded me of my childhood, and even though I hadn’t been paying much attention (after all, it was the dawn of rock and roll), some of the music I was now forced to listen to had sunk in, since what I was now hearing was very familiar. I grew my list of favorite singers, and Reba McIntire

headed my list, along with some country hunks like Rodney Crowell and Marty Stuart. Reba had just released an album containing the song “Fancy,” a tragic tale of a young girl whose mother was out of options and sent her daughter into a life of prostitution. Her advice to her daughter was “Just be nice to the gentlemen and they’ll be nice to you.”

That song stuck with me over the years, and every time I’d hear it on a Flashback Friday, I’d sing along at the top of my voice. When I began writing a story about a British courtesan who traveled to America during the Revolutionary War period to escape her past, that song floated to the surface of my mind, and my heroine, Fancy Booker, was born. I hope Reba will approve of the way I tell my heroine’s tale in the second book in my Revolutionary War Trilogy. Take a listen to the song here: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zplc4Ienkws&feature=emb_logo

Becky Lower's new Revolutionary War series begins in 1777, not even a year after the Declaration of Independence was signed. The battle for our country's freedom had been simmering for years and was about to boil over. It was not a good time for young British ladies to be making their way to the country unescorted, but our country needed their grit and fortitude. And it's made for three wonderful heroines. Can't wait to share them with you.