FIrst, off – I did not intend for this to be a month long cliff hanger. The second half of December brought not just winter holidays, a young child home on break, it brought a night of tornadoes across the state of Iowa, another derecho, a national threat of school violence…all while the pandemic rages on. Needless to say, I didn’t get a lot done.
When we left off, I was feeling empowered after having listened to Nikole Hannah-Jones speak, waxing nostalgic about libraries, and about to head across the Iowa State Capitol Complex to visit what I thought was a memorial to The Matter of Ralph.
The Iowa judiciary is located across the street from the capitol. There aren’t a ton of memorials on the grounds of the judiciary building, but even if there were, “Shattering Silence” would still stand out. The sculpture is composed of a massive metalic sunburst with a glass center that reflects the sunlight. This piece was erected in 2009, while some Americans were basking in the glow what many thought to be a “post-racial era” ushered in by the Obama presidency. The installation includes an arced bench, which tells the story of Ralph, an enslaved person who sought freedom after travelling to Iowa with his owner, and who was at the center of the Iowa Territory’s landmark decision in 1839 to block the expansion of slavery into Iowa. The inscription on the bench reads, “Ralph was a slave from Missouri. In 1834, he bought his freedom from his owner, a man named J. Montgomery, so he could come to Iowa to work in the lead mines near Dubuque. The cost of his independence was to be $550, plus interest. But after five years, Ralph had not earned enough money to make the payments and two bounty hunters from Virginia offered to seize and return him to Montgomery for $100. Getting the proper paperwork, they seized him and were taking him to a steam ship when an Iowa farmer, a man named Alexander Butterworth, learned of the action and went to the local judge, Thomas Wilson. Judge Wilson stopped the men and suggested that the matter should be heard by the Supreme Court of the Territory, on which he sat. Iowa’s three high court judges heard the case, and on July 4, 1839, ruled in Ralph’s favor. In their decision, the judges stated that Ralph should pay his debt, but ruled that ‘no man in this territory can be reduced to slavery’ and that Montgomery had lost his right over Ralph in Iowa. The justices write ‘When, in seeking to accomplish his object, [the claimant] illegally restrains a human being of his liberty, it is proper that the laws should extend equal protection to men of all colors and conditions, should intervene.’ The decision In Re(gards to) The Matter of Ralph, was the first ruling handed down by the Iowa Supreme Court. It was issued more than seven years before Iowa became a state. It confirmed Iowa’s position as a free territory, and was the first of many high court rulings that preserved and advanced the causes of freedom, equality, and diversity within our borders. In 1847, the Iowa legislature embraced those causes when it adopted Iowa’s motto: ‘Our Liberties We Prize And Our Rights We Will Maintain.'”
What we choose to memorialize, and how we choose to memorialize it can either illuminate or obfuscate history. There’s a lot to unpack here, so first, let’s talk about the ways in which “Shattering Silence” illuminates history. Butterworth was an active bystander who used his social capital (a.k.a. his white privilege) to be a force for good. We need more of that. Be like Butterworth.
Mostly, though, this piece obfuscates Iowa’s deeply problematic history of discriminating against Black people. Here’s what else was going on in the Iowa Territory around the same time:
In 1838, Iowa’s very first Territorial Assembly, the precursor to the state legislature, passed a law making it extremely difficult for Black people to settle in the state of Iowa. Nearly forty years before Jim Crow, Iowa’s Black Codes Included:
In 1839, the Iowa Territorial Assembly passed the “Act to Regulate Blacks and Mulattoes.” This law prohibited Blacks from voting, military service, testifying in court against white people, and attending school. The law also required Black people to provide documentation of their freedom and to pay $500 (that would be nearly $15,000 in today’s dollars) as a sort of insurance for “good behavior.”
In 1840, Iowa’s Territorial Assembly made interracial marriage illegal in Iowa.
The impact of all of this dirty business from the Territorial Assembly was that Iowa was a stop – not a destination – on the underground railroad. Iowa was known to be the most hostile of all Northern states. Those escaping slavery knew they couldn’t stay here. Though Iowa’s racist laws began to be repealed in the late 1860s, enforcement was spotty, at best, until the 1970s.
After re-reading the inscriptions, I got an uneasy feeling that Ralph Montgomery had been de-centered from his own story. I’m curious as to whether he stayed in Iowa and if any of his descendants are still in the state. Did anyone try to locate Ralph’s descendants and invite them to the dedication?
This brings us back to Nikole Hannah Jones: It matters whose stories get told, and who tells them. It matters what history we choose to illuminate and which history we choose to obfuscate. Black people deserve better than to be cast as passive, supporting characters in history.
