Rev. Dr. I. T. Tichenor, who was for many years pastor of the First Baptist Church of Montgomery, later the president of the Polytechnic Institute at Auburn, and still later corresponding secretary of the Home Mission of the Southern Baptist Convention, relates the following story of cruelty as connected with his pastorate at Montgomery. It was the habit of Dr. Tichenor to preach to the slaves of Montgomery, every Sunday afternoon, during his long pastorate in that city.

Among the many hundred slaves who came to the service was a large, muscular, yellow man, well advanced in years, whose infirmity was supported by a large hickory stick, the peculiar thump of which always signalized the coming of this old man into the church. The pastor was sympathetically attracted to the old man because of his devotion, marked silence, and physical infirmity. This particular slave rarely smiled, and when the pastor would call on him to pray, which he sometimes did, Jesse Goldthwaite, the crippled slave, would respond with a fervency rarely heard.

When the emancipation of the slaves came as a result of the close of the war, there was much jubilation, but it seemed not to affect Jesse Goldthwaite. Conscious that his end was near, freedom could be of but slight benefit to him. The distinguished white pastor noticed that the old man was not the least cheerful, in the midst of the wild demonstrations of racial joy, and the shadow of the sorrow under which the aged slave lived never disappeared. After the slaves had been free for some time, Jesse came one day during the week into the study of Dr. Tichenor, and addressing him as “master,” as he was in the habit of doing, wished to know if he would be good enough to write some letters for him.

Dr. Tichenor assured him that it would be a pleasure to serve him. With difficulty the old ex-slave took a seat that was offered him, and leaning on his big stick began by saying that when he was stolen from his home in Maryland, his father, mother, three brothers and a sister were then living in a thrifty village in that state, the name of which village was given. But this was just fifty-two years before. Jesse indulged the hope that some of them still lived, though he had not heard from them since he was kidnaped at the age of eighteen.

Never having heard his story, Dr. Tichenor encouraged him to give it. Jesse’s father and his family were free. The family lived on the outskirts of a Maryland village where the father owned a good home and a small farm. Having occasion to send Jesse on an errand to the shores of the Chesapeake, the stalwart youth of eighteen, muscular, large, active and bright, was seized by some slave traders, and forcibly taken on board a small vessel and carried to Richmond, where in the slave market he was sold on the block. He protested that he was free, and was forcibly brought hither, but no attention was given to his defense. From Virginia he was brought to Montgomery, and bought by the Goldthwaites, in which family he had been for more than fifty years. On being sold at Montgomery he again protested, but was answered by the statement that he had been bought in good faith, and the fault was not that of his present owners. This, he said, destroyed all hope, and he knew that he was doomed to a life of slavery, from which condition there was no possible appeal. This made him desperate, and he resolved on a course of perpetual rebellion. His mistress sympathized with him in his condition, after she learned his story, and sought to show him every possible kindness, but his refractory disposition brought him under the stern discipline of his master, who sought to subdue him at any cost. While he was forced to succumb, he was not reconciled to his fate, and resisted in every way possible. He was notorious as a thief, liar, and profane swearer, and in his desperation he resolved to drown his troubles in drunkenness. Exposure on cold nights, while drunk, induced the rheumatism and impaired his sight almost to blindness.

The years wore wearily on, and when he was brought under the influence of the preaching of Dr. Tichenor, Jesse became a Christian, and thenceforth he sought to lead a subdued and submissive life, but his frame was now a wreck. Advancing age had bent his form, and it was with difficulty that he could see. While submissive, Jesse was never cheerful, but lived under the burden of a wrong enforced, from which there was no possible deliverance. Now, at the age of seventy-two, he came to Dr. Tichenor to request that he write to Maryland, and if possible, to learn whether any of his relatives, who never knew of his fate, were still surviving. Letters were written, one to the postmaster of the village, and to others known personally to Dr. Tichenor, at Baltimore, and elsewhere.

For several weeks the old man would trudge with difficulty to the pastor’s study to learn of the result of the letters, but no favorable answer came. In order to cheer the old man, and to prolong hope, Dr. Tichenor would write to yet others, but nothing could be learned of the whereabouts of any of those sought by Jesse Goldthwaite. The aged ex-slave would leave the presence of the pastor with a heavy groan each time, and express the hope that when he should come the next time he might be able to learn of his loved ones of the long ago. Finally the old man ceased to come. It was thought that continued discouragement had checked his visits, but when Dr. Tichenor sought to learn of the strange absence of Jesse, he ascertained that he had been dead for weeks. In a negro cabin he had died in Montgomery, and had been quietly buried by his own people in the pauper graveyard.

In the annals of the horrors of slavery no story can perhaps excel that of the doom of Jesse Goldthwaite. Born a free man, and stolen in the prime of his robust youthhood, manacled and sold into slavery, he lived more than a half century in this condition, and when he died, he was buried in a grave of poverty.