Letters

This is Pyrrhus Concer again. I’m so glad you’re back to hear more of my, as you might say, “rags-to-riches” story.

I know many of you just can’t believe that slavery was right here in the North, and definitely not in the beautiful Village of Southampton. But it’s absolutely true. My mom, Violet, was owned by the Cooper family, and, as I mentioned last week, I was born in Cooper Hall.

I don’t have any fond memories of Cooper Hall, only the day they took me from my mom to work on a farm. I was 5 years young and wasn’t sure why they did this to me — and what on Earth was a 5-year-old capable of doing? Mom was very sad, too, but she had no say in the matter. She was a slave.

But I also did what I was told, and as time went on I learned about this whaling thing, and I listened and observed and I thought that maybe one day, one fine day, I too could get on a ship and sail away to get out of this back-breaking farm duty.

My mom’s slave owner’s son, Mercator, was going on these voyages, and one day he agreed to let me come after he knew I might be the best steerer he had. Another friend from the reservation, “Eleazer,” and a few others were able to come too, and off we went, not sure if we would return — but, heck, no more farm work.

I’ll tell you more about this amazing voyage on the ship called Manhattan next week. You’re not going to believe it.

Brenda Simmons

Founder, Executive Director

Southampton African American Museum