Temporary Tourist

By JUDITH FAIRWEATHER
Humbled. Uninformed. Deprived. Enlightened. Engaged. Enthralled. These are words to describe how I’ve been feeling since my latest Temporary Tourist excursion.
Back at the end of July, I journeyed down to Great Barrington, ostensibly to take some photos of the preview of the W.E.B. Du Bois Boyhood Homesite and Memorial Park (I found it impossible to simply take photos and was compelled to write a story that my compassionate editor in her benevolence allowed to run). Once there, I discovered a memorial now getting off the ground after almost 40 years in the making. I also discovered something called the Upper Housatonic Valley African American Heritage Trail guide — a map of the sites pertaining to African Americans in our area who played pivotal roles in our state and nation’s history.
Looking at the 40 Massachusetts sites on the map (and an additional eight sites in Connecticut), I encountered names I had never heard in my 44 years of living here and 12 years of public education: Mum Bett, the Rev. Samuel Harrison, Agrippa Hull. I learned things that I never knew. For example, there was a Berkshire County chapter of the NAACP founded here in 1918, which sent residents to participate in the 1963 March on Washington, registered voters during the Freedom Summer of 1964 in Alabama and Mississippi, helped create affordable housing in Pittsfield and organized sympathy protests at the former Woolworth’s in Pittsfield to protest the refusal of the chain to serve African Americans at their lunch counters in the South.
Where was all this information when I was in school? How is it that I have lived here for so long and yet remained so unaware of this important facet of our history? I resolved to embark on a journey to change that.

My first stop was to learn about a very prominent man, Col. John Ashley, who lived with his wife in Sheffield in the late 1700s. They owned five slaves, one of whom would come to be known as Mum Bett, Mumbet or Elizabeth Freeman, depending on the source. There, in their fancy parlor, Ashley hosted the great thinkers of the day, including Sam Adams and Ethan Allen. Ashley chaired a grievance committee of those unhappy with relations with England. They drafted the Sheffield Resolves, which predated the Declaration of Independence and contained the concept that all people are free and have certain rights.
Mum Bett was present, and silent, at these meetings, and heard and understood the language used. In 1780, the Massachusetts Constitution was read aloud in the streets. Part of that document states that “all men are born free and equal, and have certain natural, essential, and inalienable rights.” In 1781, when warding off a blow intended for her younger sister, Lizzie, Mum Bett had had enough. She believed the language in those documents applied to her, and to all slaves, as well. She decided to sue for her freedom, enlisting the help of Theodore Sedgwick, a lawyer and friend of the family.
On Aug. 21, 1781, Mum Bett won her court case. This, along other cases, helped to end slavery in Massachusetts.
On Thursday, Aug. 21, 2008, my daughters and I traveled through picturesque Sheffield under startlingly clear blue skies to sit in the yard of the Ashley house and hear speakers and others mark this important anniversary. Elaine Gunn and Bernie Drew, of the Friends of the Du Bois Homesite Steering Committee, spoke, among others, and the Youth Alive step dancers of Pittsfield performed.
The house has been lovingly restored, with furniture accurate to the period, although not original to the house, setting the scene beautifully. I was struck by the story, and my lack of knowledge of it. How sad that a writer, and a history teacher, could be so unaware of something like this in her own backyard.
Following the moving ceremony, the girls and I consulted the brand-new-off-the-presses Mum Bett’s Trail map, a companion to the broader map I first encountered at the end of July. We decided we would try and find her gravestone in the Stockbridge Cemetery.
The map told us she could be found in the northeast corner, in what is known as the Sedgwick Pie. Amazingly, I found the northeast corner on the first try, but actually went too far. We had to backtrack more toward the middle of the cemetery, where there was a section separated from the rest by a fence on three sides. Entering, we found Theodore and Pamela Sedgwick’s monuments in the center, with the rest of the family buried in a circle around them. There, in the front row, was the 1829 grave of Mum Bett, who, after winning her freedom, went on to serve as a kind of nanny for the Sedgwick family. She was buried right next to the Sedgwicks’ daughter, Catharine. We stood in front of the headstone, all three of us uncharacteristically silent, as we contemplated this important woman and the impact she had had on history.
On Friday, I was off to another site on the trail map, quite different from the three I had already visited. I went off to the home of the Rev. Samuel Harrison on Third Street in Pittsfield. The house is in a state of extreme disrepair, but the event of my visit was a joyous one.
In May 2004, Ruth Edmonds Hill, great-granddaughter to Harrison, traveled to Pittsfield with her husband, Dr. Hugh M. Hill (better known as Brother Blue) to meet with a group of Pittsfielders interested in saving Harrison’s home from the wrecking ball.
Harrison (1818-1900) was an African American minister born into slavery who was a pioneering civil rights activist, abolitionist, orator and writer. He served as the chaplain for the Massachusetts 54th, the all-black Civil War regiment that acquitted itself so honorably yet so tragically at Fort Wagner in South Carolina.
As just one example of his work, when he discovered that the black and white soldiers were not receiving equal pay, he appealed to the governor of Massachusetts, John Andrew, who brought the case to President Lincoln, ultimately resulting in the passage in 1864 of legislation requiring equal pay in the army appropriations bill. Harrison also served as the first minister of the Second Congregational Church in Pittsfield, founded in 1846, the first church exclusively for persons of color.
His house now is a National Register of Historic Places landmark, a National Parks Service “Save America’s Treasures” preservation project and a Massachusetts Historical Commission preservation project. Congressman John Olver secured a “Save America’s Treasures” matching grant for $246,000.
Friday saw the groundbreaking for the restoration and preservation of the property, which is slated to become a place to provide greater insight into African-American history.
Over the course of two days, I had unearthed a vast trove of history of which I have only scratched the surface. I am humbled that it has remained unknown to me all of these years, but am so enthralled by it that my journey of discovery will surely continue.
At the beginning of this column I mentioned four names to you: Du Bois, Mum Bett, Harrison and Agrippa Hull. I have only shared a smidgen with you of what I have learned about the first three, and haven’t mentioned the fourth. Why? Because I haven’t gotten to that stop on the map yet. Hull remains a mystery to me, a mystery to be deliciously uncovered as I follow the fascinating trail of African American history in Berkshire County. Won’t you join me?

For more information about the Upper Housatonic Valley African American Heritage Trail or Mum Bett, go to africanamericantrail.org. A virtual tour of the Du Bois home site is available at library.umass.edu/spcoll/duboishome/virtualtour.htm. The Col. Ashley house is a property of the Trustees of Reservations, thetrustees.org. To learn about Harrison, visit samuelharrison.org.

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Editor’s Note: This is the seventh in a summer-long series in which Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather, a Berkshire County native, explores the county as a tourist would (no special media accommodations) and visits places she has never been. Read about all of her visits at blogtheberkshires.com.

It’s never a good sign when you set out for a journey and find yourself driving straight toward pitch-black clouds.
As I headed south, the claps of thunder rang in my ears, the heavens opened to let the rain fall down in straight sheets of water and the lightning bolts zigzagged their way to the ground. I nervously eyed the tree branches above me as I crept down Route 7, my windshield wipers working furiously, but to no affect.
Thankfully, the rain started to let up before I arrived at The Guthrie Center housed in the Old Trinity Church, and my trials and tribulations (including my soaked feet from the puddle in which I parked my car) were all worth it. It was much bigger and more imposing than I had expected. I had traveled down on this stormy Thursday night for the weekly Hootenanny. Sign-ups are between 7 and 8 p.m., when the performances start. I had arrived at about 7:15 so I could get the lay of the land.

When I came into the entryway of the church, I was greeted by Chris and Trish, who welcomed me most warmly. I wandered about, snapping a few pictures. Chris then asked if I had ever been in the church; I replied I had not. We set off for a tour.
Entering what must have been the nave of the church, I saw tables with candles in heavy glass holders that were exactly like what my parents used to use in the backyard when I was growing up in the ’70s. Awesomely retro. The well-lit stage sat before us, sporting several mics as well as a Baldwin piano. The semicircular space was probably once the apse.
We made our way up to the second floor, where I discovered an unexpected surprise. The center currently has works by Robert Alan Hyde on view. The sculptures are created out of brass, steel and copper with the use of an oxygen and acetylene torch, according to the pamphlet on the exhibit I picked up. Originally from Utah, Hyde became a Berkshirite upon moving to Washington in 2006.
The sculptures are breathtakingly gorgeous, and all by themselves make the trip to Barrington well worth it. I was struck by a piece of a Native American in full regalia titled “Fancy Dancer.” There was also a carousel horse as well as a full-sized chair, among several other pieces.
The church was built in 1829 as a chapel for St. James Church. It was expanded in 1866 and renamed Trinity Church. An amazing feature is the massive round stained-glass window that Chris told me was original to the building.
The church was deconsecrated in 1964, when it was purchased by Ray and Alice Brock, who turned it into their home. It was from there on Thanksgiving Day 1965 that an 18-year-old Arlo Guthrie took some trash to the Great Barrington dump, which was closed. He and his friend traveled around, looking for a place to dispose of it, and finally found a hill in Stockbridge to throw it down. And the rest, they say, is history, forever documented in Guthrie’s famous song, “Alice’s Restaurant.”
Chris, who told me her last name was Borek upon my inquiry, told me that Guthrie purchased the property in 1991, creating an interfaith church. “Everyone’s welcome,” she said. “We do what we can to bring our community together.” I was concerned that I was receiving special treatment, as Chris knew who I was and the purpose of my visit, but she quickly dispelled my reluctance to “interview” her.
At this time of year, she said, they give anywhere from five to 20 tours of the space each day. Tours are not scheduled; as people wander in, whoever is available takes the visitors through, providing whatever information the visitors are looking for. She did point out that with the exception of George Laye, director of the center, the rest of the staff is made up of volunteers.
When asked why she chooses to volunteer there, Chris said, “I love the people who come here. We’re all really different, but we all have this centered goal of bringing the community together. We’ve become a family, like any church community, I guess.” The center does not have any actual services; instead, it focuses on community events like free lunches every Wednesday for anyone who shows up and free yoga classes on Tuesday mornings.
The Thursday Hootenanny, she said, is held “just as a fun thing,” but also as an “audition ground” for young performers. George, she said, tries out youngsters in the very accepting and nurturing venue, and then chooses some to open for the national acts that perform in the Troubadour Series. The series, in which concerts are offered on the weekends in the summer, is used as a fundraising tool, she said.
This summer, they are also hosting the Greta Garbage puppet shows (muchmore.com), generally on Tuesdays and Thursdays with an occasional Saturday thrown in. The shows blend a little “storytelling, a little magic, ballooning and song,” all with a reduce, reuse, recycle theme, according to the flier.
Before heading back downstairs, Chris told me that the Hootenanny, although primarily an outlet for musicians, could showcase any type of talent. “We’ve had people who read poetry, belly dancers, harp players,” she said. I was anxious to discover what talents would be displayed this particular night.
But there was still time to while away before the show started. I wandered back into the lobby to take a closer look at a guitar on display. Trish, one of the other volunteers, offered without me asking that the guitar was being signed by each of the Troubadour performers over the summer. George was hanging out in the lobby with us, so I asked him what the plan was for the instrument at the end of the summer. “We’ll probably auction it, probably in October, after Arlo gets back,” he said.
And then it was finally time for the show to start. The crowd was small; maybe a dozen of us, including the five performers, who all signed up using just their first names. First up was Kurt, husband to volunteer Trish as well as the sound man for the weekly Hootenannies. Kurt fulfilled my expectation of what the night would entail — he played the banjo, and exceedingly well. Next up was Steve, who started his four-number set with what sounded to me like a country three-beat waltz on the piano, titled “A Song for Two.” After another piano piece, which he had written, he played a guitar duet with Branch, while also playing the harmonica. Outstanding.
Before Branch took his own turn in the spotlight, George said one of the kids in the audience had requested “Alice’s Restaurant” — did anybody know it? Branch in fact could play it, but no one really knew the words except for the chorus. Kurt came striding forward to the stage, saying over the music, “And then you just keep going, telling a long boring story about some stuff that happened …” After a laugh, we all sang the chorus together.
Azim played acoustic guitar next, covering some classic tunes, and finally it was Tommy’s turn. Tommy played guitar and harmonica, starting his set “with the first song I ever learned to play on harmonica” — “Old Susannah.” Again, we all sang along. After Tommy’s four tunes, I received a great surprise, obviously a well-loved tradition on Thursday nights — all the performers took the stage together in a finale, leading us in a rendition of Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land.” Kurt introduced the song: “Woody wrote this as a response to ‘America the Beautiful,’ which had only the happy parts. We’ll sing the first and last verse, which probably never made it into the textbooks.” It was a superb way to end a really fun evening.
Or at least I thought my experience there had ended. Making my way to the car, I met Azim returning to the center with a large bag in his hand. “Would you like a loaf of bread to take home?” he asked. I chose a baguette, partly surprised and partly not at the offer. It just seemed appropriate for the evening.
Driving home in the dark, with the mist of the fog swirling over the road’s surface, I sang along to my favorite CD, thinking that Chris and Trish had really summed up the Guthrie Center for me. “There’s just a good vibe to the place,” said Chris.
“That’s why we keep coming back. We come each week from Poughkeepsie,” Trish added.
If Trish and Kurt can drive an hour and a half to get there, maybe I can find my way back down to the Guthrie Center again. I do have some poems I’d love to try out …

Thursday Hootenanny night is held year-round, with sign-ups starting at 7 and performances at 8. Cost is free for performers, $3 for members and $5 for nonmembers. The Troubadour Series runs through Aug. 31. Upcoming shows include The Highwaymen the weekend of Aug. 22-24 (visit guthriecenter.org for a complete list of upcoming shows). Greta Garbage shows are held on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. through Aug. 28. Cost is $4. The center is located at 4 Van Deusenville Road. Info: 413-528-1955.

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