Pennsylvania and the Underground Railroad

We ate Thanksgiving lunch at Alfanos At The Quail in Washington, PA. It is a beautiful old 1837 plantation mansion originally built by David Quail, and was one of the Underground Railroad Waystations. The Quail family lived in the house for almost 100 years. The mansion has been elegantly redecorated, and is awesome to behold. The proprietors, the Marc and Christina Alfanos, are beautiful people. Christina met us as we came through the doorway, and was very sweet. She remembered John and Suzan by name, and later, took us on a tour of the beautiful house. The company was great, and the food was delectable. We had traditional Thanksgiving fare – but I’ve heard the food any other day is amazing.

See this little hole? This is so the slaves could see out of the closet.

This is the stairwell above the "hold".

You can see the lookout hole better now at the bottom of the stairwell.

And this…is the closet, stashed under the stairwell. It is tiny. I am standing up, and shooting the picture down into the closet. I can’t imagine anyone staying here for long, but the runaway slaves did. And they waited to be moved to the next safe house.

Makes my heart hurt.

Scott and I were raised with a black lady always present in our house. We called her Momma Jean. She was a huge part of our lives, and loved us with a passion. We loved her, too, loved her kids and her family. I don’t know how long she worked for our family, but she was never a slave. She went home to her family and kids every night. We grew up with her kids, who attended the same school as we did. As a result, we grew up without prejudice.

I was unaware, until just a few years ago, that at the same time we were all growing up together in Big Spring, that most black people couldn’t go some of the same places my family went, just because they were black. I had no idea, that in my home town, things like that were going on. I don’t know if I had my head up my butt, or what, but I was clueless. And when one of my friends, who happens to be black, told me that she and her family had to go eat in the kitchen of some of the same restaurants we frequented back then, I was shocked. She is the same age as I, and it had to be happening when I was growing up in the same town as she. Once I realized she had to be telling the truth, I was mortified and felt somewhat culpable. So, when I see places like where the Underground Railroad operated, it hits me hard.

I hope every slave who came to the Quail House made it to freedom.