On the way to their Art History class the next morning, Damon confessed that the phrase “works of mercy” rang a bell. He had checked it out while Bryce was cleaning up in the kitchen. In his term paper for this class on the depiction of emotions in the works of Caravaggio, he found reference to a painting by his favorite artist entitled “The Seven Works of Mercy.” It’s in the Church of the Misericordia, or the Church of Mercy, in Naples. As they had not visited this church, and as the painting had not played a large role in Damon’s paper, he had not immediately recognized the reference the evening before.
“You’re forgiven,” Bryce replied with a smirk, “since the evening ended well.”
Naturally, Damon had to punch him. But he considered whether he should give greater attention to this work in his paper. It dates to 1607, and depicts all seven corporal works of mercy on one canvas, which was kind of unusual, as there were earlier depictions, but almost always in seven distinct works. For Damon, one of the most memorable sections of the work shows St. Martin of Tours dividing his cloak with a beggar as an illustration of clothing the naked. Damon had a special affection for St. Martin.
In the class, they were nowhere near the time of Caravaggio. Prof. Padgett had spent so much time on her beloved Greeks that they had to rush through the Romans and the Early Middle Ages, but even so, were only in the High Middle Ages. Today, she was holding forth on Gothic architecture, which, of course, has nothing whatsoever to do with the Goths. Once again, Damon was grateful for the opportunity he had last summer to travel with Bryce through Western Europe, as he had experienced Gothic architecture first hand, and was able to appreciate the lecture better and reply to some of the instructor’s questions.
After their class, they stopped by the post office in the Union. There, Bryce discovered an envelope from Rev. Hitt at the Allen Memorial AME Church in Chicago. He was able to slip that into his book bag while Damon was distracted, talking to Tyler Rollins, who happened along at that time. He would have to find time alone to investigate this latest piece in his reconstruction of Damon’s ancestry.
Although the draft versions of their term papers had been completed, there was still work to be done before a final copy of each would be ready for submission later in the semester. Damon had determined to expand his coverage of that “Seven Works of Mercy,” for example. Bryce was determined to retain his comments on St. Francis Borgia in his paper for Renaissance Italy, but to justify that he decided to give additional coverage to Pedro Luis and Juan, the first two Dukes of Gandia. Hence, the two spent the greater portion of the hour between the end of class and noon in the library.
When they arrived in the Union cafeteria, they found that Caroline Koehler was there before them, and had someone with her. After collecting their lunches, and being invited by Caroline to join them, Bryce and Damon were introduced to Marjory Banks, who would have been a very pretty woman had she not had such a severe expression on her face. As it turned out, Marjory was upset because the University administration refused to sanction a day of mourning today.
“Why do you want a day of mourning?” Damon asked. “Did someone you know die?”
“Today is October 12,” she responded, as though that were sufficient explanation.
“So?” Damon pursued the issue.
“October 12, Dummy! Columbus Day! The anniversary of the beginning of the exploitation of the Native American peoples by the Europeans!” she yelled.
“Oh. I never thought of it that way,” Damon responded, looking confused, but also offended by her rudeness.
“Well, you should. Especially you, a member of another oppressed minority. We need to work together to end the oppression of the white male capitalist system. My kinsman Dennis Banks worked for that, and along with Fred Hampton helped found the Rainbow Coalition,” she stridently proclaimed.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of Fred Hampton. I’m from Chicago,” Damon responded warily.
“Then you need to be out there with us demanding compensation for centuries of oppression,” Marjory pontificated.
At that point, Caroline intervened. “Thank you, Marjory. I’ll let you know.”
Marjory looked at Caroline, harrumphed, and marched out of the cafeteria.
Bryce and Damon sat.
“How do you know Marjory?” Bryce asked Caroline.
“I don’t really,” Caroline stated. “I mean, I know who she is, but we’re not exactly friends or anything. She’s trying to get me to join some far out feminist group. She’s in AIM – the American Indian Movement. They’re kind of far out, too. They keep spreading this story about the Bureau of Indian Affairs sending smallpox infected blankets to the reservations, and they’ve been implicated in several murders, as well as the Pine Ridge Shootout when two FBI agents and an activist were killed. They’re a violent bunch.”
“I know about Fred Hampton, like I said,” Damon reported. “He was active in the Black Panther Party back in the 60's. He was shot by police during a raid, and folks in the black community still think that was planned. But Fred was also an extremist. The Black Panthers started out advocating extreme segregation, but with blacks completely independent of whites and compensated for slavery. They adopted Maoist Communism. After a while, they kind of faded away, but that was after Hampton’s death.”
“Kind of sounds like the sort of people Marjory would bond with,” Caroline commented.
“I know a little about that story of the infected blankets, too,” Damon added. I did a little paper, only four pages, last spring for my political science class.” He chuckled. “Bryce has been selecting topics that have nothing to do with being Catholic in order to confuse those who accuse him of being a fanatic. I guess I selected this topic for the same reason when we were asked to write on extremist groups and legends. Something non-black, you know. Anyway, there is a small kernel of truth in the story. Back during the French and Indian War, the commander at Fort Duquesne, or Fort Pitt, now Pittsburgh, presented visiting hostile Indians with gifts which included two blankets and a handkerchief which came from the fort’s hospital, where smallpox was present. Just a little later, Jeffery Amherst, the British commander, instructed Stephen Bouquet, his officer in charge of the expedition to Fort Duquesne, to spread disease among the Indians by passing smallpox-infected blankets among them. Whether he actually did has never been proven.
“These were decisions made by military commanders during a time of war. They were never any government’s policy. They happened before the United States, much less the Bureau of Indian Affairs, even existed. But, as Bryce says, once an emotional position is taken up, facts go out the window, and it’s impossible to get anyone to change his or her mind,” Damon concluded.
“Whether it’s feminists, or Indians, or blacks, or gays, or any other cause, extremists only hurt the movement,” Bryce declared. “They definitely share a mental outlook with religious extremists, like the Moslems who go around blowing up people, and the Christians who refuse to accept evolution, and even worse carry out extreme disciplinary actions on children, amounting to abuse, claiming biblical authorization. And the Mormon separatists in their remote settlements effectively reducing their female members to slavery and raping them. No, there is nothing positive about extremists.”
For the remainder of the lunch period, they discoursed on food and menus, with Bryce again being largely passive. Something Damon said registered this time. Discussing simple meals, Caroline said even a child could fix something.
“I wish I knew about this when I was a child,” Damon said. “There were times, sometimes days or a week or more, when my mother was strung out, and did not fix us anything to eat. My brother Tyson was old enough to just leave and look elsewhere, but I was quite small, and my sisters weren’t much older. We went for days trying to survive on what we could scrounge together, and some of it was really nasty, and made us sick. I never want to be in that position again.”
It dawned on Bryce that, consciously or not, one reason for Damon’s interest in cooking was that determination never again to be in that vulnerable position again. It did make sense, if one just had patience and looked for the reason.
At one o’clock, Damon left for his Spanish class. He had been gone only a couple of minutes when he was back. “Come outside. You’ve got to see this,” he insisted, pulling Bryce along.
On the quad in front of the Union, Josh Young was speaking from a make-shift platform through a bullhorn. There was a large banner behind him proclaiming “University Endorses Gay Bashing.” Josh was declaiming about the refusal of the University Administration to do anything to arrest the individuals who had attacked Peter Boyington. Just how Josh knew Peter was gay was not made clear, but Bryce remembered that Peter had been present at the LGBT meeting when Josh had been elected Vice-President, and Peter had mentioned that both Felicity and Josh had visited him in the hospital. There was no sense in trying to cover up Peter’s orientation now. Josh was calling for a demonstration, a march on the office of the Vice-President for Student Affairs, and perhaps on that of the President of the University. The crowd listening to him was not large, maybe a hundred students at the most, but they seemed to be in sympathy with what he was saying.
“Shit!” Bryce exclaimed. “We’ve got to let Peter know about this before someone else tells him. He has to figure how to deal with it. His mother is bound to come into contact with at least some of this.”
“Let’s go,” Damon said.
So, both guys decided to skip class, and return to the hospital. When they got there, Peter was again attempting to get his mother to get something to eat. When he saw the two, he looked greatly relieved.
“Please tell Mom to go eat,” he pled.
“Mrs. Boyington, go ahead. We’ll be here until you get back, so don’t rush,” Bryce assured her, escorting her to the door.
As soon as Mrs. Boyington was out of earshot, Bryce and Damon began babbling. Peter looked totally confused. After a minute, Bryce stepped back. “You saw it first. You tell Peter,” he said to Damon.
“Peter, do you know Josh Young?” Damon asked. “He’s the Vice-President of the LGBT Club.”
“Yes. I met him at that meeting, and we’ve talked a couple of times. He was here on a visit yesterday. He wants me to come out, but, like I told you guys, I’m not ready for that yet,” Peter replied.
“Well, ready or not, you’re out,” Damon said. “When I left the Union cafeteria a few minutes ago, Josh was holding forth on the quad, claiming the Administration is not paying attention to the attack on you because you’re gay, and calling for demonstrations at the office of the VPSA.”
“Oh, shit!” Peter exclaimed. “He’s telling everyone I’m gay?”
“Yes. No doubt about it. We came right over here, so you would have a little time to prepare before your mother hears about this. With all the hullabaloo, she’s bound to hear,” Damon added.
“Has there been any follow up on what I told you earlier, you know, about her thinking discrimination against gays was wrong?” Bryce asked.
“As a matter of fact, we did have a short talk about that. Mom’s always been one to stand up for the little guy. But that’s not the same as finding out that her son is gay,” Peter worried.
“No, it’s not,” Mrs. Boyington said, as she entered the room. She had in her hand a flyer. “I found this on the bulletin board in the cafeteria.” She presented it to Peter.
The flyer was one evidently put out by Josh Young, although it said it was from the LGBT Club. As far as Bryce knew, there had been no LGBT Executive Committee meeting or other authorization, but he would have to check with Felicity Gaines about that. The flyer stated in bold characters that Peter Boyington, a gay student at the University, had been assaulted by criminals protected by the Administration because of the donations made by their families to the University Development Fund. It called for massive demonstrations and the occupation of the office of the President and the Vice-President for Student Affairs. It ended with the word ‘Justice’ in bold letters followed by several exclamation marks.
Peter was speechless. He looked at the flyer. He looked at his mother. He looked at his friends. Then he passed out.
Mrs. Boyington ran into the hall calling for help, while Bryce pressed the call button connected to the nurse’s station. Soon several nurses were attending to Peter.
While they were, Mrs. Boyington buttonholed Bryce. “You knew about this, didn’t you?” she demanded.
“I knew Peter was gay, and that was probably the reason he was attacked,” Bryce admitted. “But I have nothing to do with this flyer or the demonstration. I just learned about it a short time ago.”
“And rushed over here to warn Peter,” Mrs. Boyington deduced.
“Well, yes. He seemed frightened at the prospect of you finding out he’s gay, so I wanted to give him some time to prepare. I guess it was not enough time,” Bryce replied.
Mrs. Boyington considered that. “I remember you asking me about homosexuals earlier, and I remember what I said then. I guess it’s time to put my faith into practice.”
“Peter needs you, now more than ever,” Bryce said.
“I love my son. I will not abandon him. But we do need a good long talk,” Peter’s mother decided.
“It looks like the nurse is trying to get your attention, Mrs. Boyington. We’ll leave you now, but we’re available if there’s anything we can do. Here’s my cell number. Please call me if you or Peter need anything,” Bryce said, writing his number on a bit of paper and handing it to her.
She took the paper, glanced at it, then said, “Thank you. I need to attend to Peter now.”
Bryce and Damon left the hospital. It was a little past 1:30. Damon decided it was too late to make it to his Spanish class, but Bryce decided to sneak into his Renaissance class. Listening to Dr. Belzi would take his mind off Peter and his problems for the next hour and a half. Maybe by then Peter and his mother would have reached some kind of understanding.
Dr. Belzi was lecturing as Bryce entered the classroom. He received an annoyed look from the professor, and slunk into a back seat. Dr. Belzi was lecturing on the Pazzi Conspiracy, the attempt of several enemies to assassinate Lorenzo dei Medici and his brother Giuliano. They succeeded with Giuliano. Bryce thought Dr. Belzi placed entirely too much emphasis on the involvement of Pope Sixtus IV and the Archbishop of Pisa in the affair, but he was not in a mood to quibble today.
After class, Marc Rimbault approached Bryce. “I thought for a minute you were going to chicken out.” Mark said.
“Don’t,” Bryce said. “I’m in no mood for this kind of banter.”
“What’s up?” Mark asked, recognizing the seriousness in Bryce’s voice.
“Have you heard about Peter Boyington?” Bryce asked.
“By now, everyone on campus has heard about him,” Marc said. “After the attack Saturday night, and now the demonstrations on the quad, you can’t miss hearing about him.”
“Well, that’s what’s bothering me. Peter was very much in the closet. His mother is here, looking after him. When I left him a little while ago, his mother had just found out about the gay aspect of Peter, and of the attack,” Bryce said with some exasperation at Josh Young and the activists.
“Sorry to hear about that. I can see where it might be a very unpleasant situation,” Marc responded.
“When I left the hospital, Mrs. Boyington seemed ready to at least talk to Peter about all this. I can only hope for the best,” Bryce said.
Bryce left Filson Hall and made his way across campus to the SAT house. He grabbed a beer, and settled in, not having any particular plan for the rest of the afternoon, until the fraternity meeting that evening. He checked his phone, and found a message from Damon, which he was not even aware of having received. It said, “Caroline and I are preparing dinner. Don’t be late. 6:00.” Well, that was still several hours away. What could he do to distract himself from worrying about Peter and his mother and Josh Young?
Then Bryce remembered the mail from Chicago. He rummaged in his book bag and extracted the rather thick envelope from Rev. Hitt. There were quite a few pages written on a computer. They were evidently extracts from the papers in the church archives. Bryce located a cover letter, in which the pastor said this was not a complete record of all the references to the Watson family, but he was sending it along. There would be a hiatus, as the woman who had been doing the research in the archives had come down with a bad case of the flu, and would be out of commission for several weeks anyway.
There were extracts from the records of baptisms and marriages performed at the Allen Memorial AME Church. Unlike the Baptists, the Methodists baptize infants, so a date of baptism would be near the date of birth, just as in the case of Catholics. Studying these lists, Bryce found the baptisms of all the known children of Carson and Delilah Watson, including Benny in 1923, and Livingston in 1934. These records indicated that the maiden name of Delilah Watson was Livingston, hence the name of their fourth son. He was, in fact, named Carson Livingston Watson on his baptismal record, and his godfather was listed as Antwon Livingston. That was probably his grandfather or uncle, and a source of the unusual spelling of that name in the family. The marriage records showed that Livingston, sometimes called Livy in the records, married Doreen Winter on 6 June 1957. They had several children baptized there at Allen Memorial, with Ernest Antwon being the third in 1961. This provided the definite link Bryce was looking for between Damon and the family of Cpl. Benny E. Watson, buried in the American Cemetery in Normandy. Once he checked his file on Damon’s family, he discovered that he already had that information, as the information from the Illinois vital statistics people also gave him the birth date and marriage date of Livingston Watson. Bryce had been distracted by other considerations, and not made the connection.
Now, the question was, should he tell Damon what he had discovered, or try to make the connection to one of those Revolutionary War patriots he had discovered at Valley Forge? Bryce considered this for some time, and decided that he would wait. Last year, he had presented Damon with the results of DNA testing, linking him to the Bambara speaking people of West Africa, and had done so as part of his Christmas present. Bryce considered that a full genealogy back to the Revolutionary War would make another fine Christmas present.
So, Bryce consulted his records. Damon’s great-grandfather was Carson Watson, born in 1901, but he did not know the exact date, nor where he was born. Bryce considered how to proceed from here. He remembered that his mother told him that, for anything more than 70 years old, begin with the federal census records. Those records were not released to the public until they were 70 years old, so the 1930 records were available, and the 1940 records would be released soon.
Assuming that Carson Watson was in Chicago as a child, and using the user name and password given him by his mother, now kept in his wallet, Bryce accessed the federal censuses on Ancestry.com for 1910. At that time, Carson would have been eight or nine years old, depending on the time of year the census was taken, and when his birthday fell. That record gave a lot of information, including the name of everyone in the household, the address, the relation of others to the head of household, race, sex, month and year of birth, age at last birthday, whether single, married, or divorced, number of years married for couples, place of birth of the individual and both parents, and occupation. For immigrants, it also gave the year of arrival in the US, and it asked whether the person understood English, but that was not pertinent for Damon.
Searching the 1910 census records for Cook County, Illinois, fortunately with a search engine at the web site, Bryce discovered Carson Watson, age 9, in the household of Benjamin Watson. The record showed Benjamin Watson, head of household, age 42, born October 1867, wife Elizabeth, age 37, born April 1873, and six children, of whom Carson was the fourth, born March 1901. Of great significance was that Benjamin and Elizabeth Watson were both said to have been born in Ohio, and Benjamin’s parents were also both born in Ohio, while Elizabeth’s father came from Kentucky and her mother from West Virginia.
Bryce then attempted to find the place of origin of Benjamin Watson. It was a little more difficult, as he did not have a county, but only the information that he was born in Ohio. Having been born in 1867, he should be on the 1870 census, but Bryce could not definitely locate him, as there were more than one Ben or Benjamin Watson in Ohio, and even the information that he was black, or, as the record stated, colored, did not resolve the issue. So, finding that both Benjamin and Elizabeth were from Ohio, and checking back on that 1910 census from Chicago, and discovering that the eldest child of this couple, a girl named Susannah, was also born in Ohio in 1895, Bryce decided to try the 1900 census for Cook County. Yes, as he expected, with Carson born there, the family was in Chicago by 1900. Going back a decade was a problem, as most of the 1890 census records had been lost. Bryce discovered that a fire in the Commerce Department building in Washington, D.C. on 10 January 1921 destroyed almost all the 1890 census records. More than likely, Benjamin and Elizabeth were not married in 1880, when he would have been only 13. To resolve this impasse, Bryce consulted marriage records for Ohio in the early 1890s. For that far back, most records were available only at the county level. Bryce thanked some computer god for search engines. He found what he was looking for, however, in Cuyahoga County, which was Cleveland, only the third site he consulted. On 14 December 1891 Benjamin Watson, age 24, colored, married Elizabeth Carson, age 19, colored, in the Bethel AME Church; ceremony performed by Rev. Josiah Brown. The record listed the parents of both spouses, with Benjamin being a son of Thomas Watson and Jemimah Russell, and Elizabeth being a daughter of Alexander Carson and Kezia McMaster.
And so, back to the census records, Bryce found the household of Thomas Watson in the 1880 census records, showing Thomas as head of household, age 40, listed as CM, meaning colored male, and Jemeymma [Bryce noted the difference in spelling, which was often at the whim of the census taker], age 37, CF, or colored female, listed as wife. Benjamin was there as a 13 year old CM, son. A real find was that there was also a Benjamin Watson, age 62, CM, listed as father of the head of household. Presumably the man was ill or for some other reason could not live on his own, but that gave Bryce another generation. If this Benjamin was 62 in 1880, he was born in 1818 give or take a year. The 1880 census did not ask for birth month and year. The occupation of Thomas was given as carpenter, so he was not a mere manual laborer.
As time was slipping away, Bryce had to bring his genealogical researches to an end for now, but he felt he was much nearer his goal than at the beginning of the afternoon. Not only had he been able to document in outline, at least, four generations of Damon’s ancestors, but he had discovered the cause of his father’s disappearance, and he had found that his ancestors, so far at least, were free blacks, not slaves. This was real progress.