Skip to content

Category: Students

The Lemon Project’s Summer 2024 Impact

The Lemon Project’s Summer 2024 Impact

Published August 28, 2024

By Jajuan S. Johnson, Ph.D.

The Lemon Project team and their community of supporters in Williamsburg and beyond hosted two dynamic summer programs—the Summer Sankofa Genealogy Workshop Series and the Lemon’s Learners Black History Matters Summer Camp. Jajuan Johnson, the Lemon Project Mellon Foundation Postdoctoral Fellow, and Highland’s fellow, Mariaelena DiBenigno, also concluded their appointments with the exhibition “Sharing Authority 2020-2024.” The exhibit showcases their practice with William & Mary students, faculty, staff, and descendant communities and offers a model of doing public history with multiple collaborators. These projects build on the Lemon Project’s mission to “build bridges between William & Mary and African American communities through research, programming, and supporting students, faculty, and staff.”

Lemon’s Learners Black History Matters Camp

Nearly twenty middle school students participated in the 2024 Lemon’s Learners Black History Matters Summer Camp. The team collaborated with the Robert Frederick Smith Explore Your Family History Center at the National Museum of African American History & Culture (NMAAHC). Ori Yarborough and Sterling Warren, Applied Public History Fellows at the NMAAHC, guided students in learning oral history best practices.

In addition to an immersion in local Black history at the W&M Libraries Special Collections Research Center, the learners conducted video interviews with Williamsburg community members Mary Lassiter, Colette Roots, and Johnette Gordon Weaver about their experiences of growing up in Williamsburg. The camp concluded at Hearth: Memorial to the Enslaved with a celebration amongst family and friends for their two-day accomplishments. Jody Allen and Jajuan Johnson donned the program graduates with Kente stoles and commissioned them to seek historical facts on Black history and to share the knowledge.

Summer Sankofa Genealogy Workshop Series

The fourth Summer Sankofa Genealogy Workshop Series drew family historians from across the United States for the virtual meetings. Internationally recognized genealogist Nicka Sewell Smith kicked off the series with the presentation, “We Weren’t Taught How to Smile,” a story of a Black family from the Mississippi Delta who emerged from enslavement by the family of President Andrew Jackson and moved to the front lines of the civil rights movement of the 1960s.       

Tasked with finding descendants of sixteen enslaved persons sold by the Trustees of Wake Forest Institute (now University), genealogist Renate Yarborough Sanders presented updates and breakthroughs on genealogical research tied to Wake Forest University’s Slavery, Race, and Memory Project. In “Finding Joseph’s Family: A Model Case of Using Reverse Genealogy to Piece Together a Family Puzzle,” Renate shared the steps that she took and the resources that she used to uncover the afterlife of one family line, bringing its legacy forward from slavery into the mid-twentieth century, one record at a time.

“Transforming Oral History into Documentation: The Early County Massacre,” with genealogist Orice Jenkins, is about history, memory, racial violence, and the process of finding the facts about a 1915 mass lynching in Early County, Georgia. Jenkins presented compelling research and guided attendees on the often tedious process of corroborating oral histories and interrogating historical documents, such as newspapers, court documents, and census reports.

The series was successful because participants were dedicated to honing family history research skills. You can view past genealogical workshops on the Lemon Project YouTube channel.

Sharing Authority at 5 Years: 2019-2024 Exhibition at the Sadler Center  

As the Mellon Foundation-funded Sharing Authority to Remember and Re-Interpret the Past ended in July, postdoctoral fellows Mariaelena DiBenigno and Jajuan Johnson shared the grant’s ongoing work with the W&M community. Using the topics of teaching, scholarship, and community engagement, they designed and installed a temporary panel exhibit for the central part of the campus. In February 2024, the six-panel exhibit “Sharing Authority at 5 Years: 2019-2024” opened in W&M’s Sadler Center. It included community and university voices and took a future-forward approach. Though the grant cycle came to a close, the university and its partners continue to address the “legacies of slavery at research universities and historic sites.” As one of the partners, the Lemon Project appreciates the support of on- and off-campus supporters who ensured the success of the Mellon-funded initiative.

Leave a Comment

A New Perspective: Researching Twentieth-Century Documents

Published June 5, 2024

By Sierra Manja, research intern to Dr. Jajuan Johnson, Lemon Project Mellon Foundation Postdoctoral Research Associate

What do you do when your archival research reaches a supposed dead end? This is a natural occurrence in the search for eighteenth-century names, families, neighborhoods, and homes of the enslaved. Getting burnt out doesn’t always require a complete break from your work. Instead, I believe, a redirection. A redirection calls for broadening the historical context towards a respective area of study. As a second-year student assistant at William & Mary Swem Libraries Special Collections Research Center, I have learned about the diversity within historic collections. With this, I have gained an appreciation for more diverse collections, such as the Bursar Records’ comprehensive chronology and oral histories, for their distinct subjectivity.

This semester, my research on early twentieth-century Bursar Records and oral histories has furthered our narratives of eighteenth-century individuals. Through Bursar Records, Dr. Johnson and I sought to construct a narrative of African Americans’ involvement on the William & Mary campus following Emancipation. In investigating the Office of the Bursar Records from the University Archives, I was to consider various factors highlighting the individuals involved in the given transaction. My attention narrowed to the ninth box of the collection, and my present findings are attributed to the twentieth folder. I first noted the payee; I considered their role within the university administration. Payment recipient(s) as individuals require the consideration of their name within African American tradition and our pre-existing narrative. Yet, most payments within individual folders were made to companies related to the University. I did not discard this and considered the possibility of the company’s history with African American employment or a strict lack thereof.

In our second week of research, I addressed a folder from 1903 [1]. I shifted through endless payments from the school to companies such as Standard Oil Company, C.W Antrim & Sons, J.B.C Spencer & Brothers, R.T Casey & Sons, and L.W Lane & Sons. R.L. Spencer signed these checks as the steward, and the president’s signature remained absent. Only one check included the president’s signature. This caught my attention as it appeared to indicate a change in transaction relations.

On March 6th, 1903, a check signed by the University president, Lyon G. Tyler, was addressed to the “washerwomen of College Hotel” [1]. The College Hotel was used as a dorm in 1860 and was renamed Ewell Hall in 1894 [2]. Ten women were listed, as well as their corresponding work and payment. Payments ranged from $3.75 for five bags and $8.25 for eleven bags. In total, the check amounted to $51.75. With the first and last names of the ten “washerwomen,” I began researching their lineage with Ancestry. My goal was to find associated names and place the “washerwomen” within the Williamsburg context. I looked for children, spouses, and neighbors. I sought out parents’ names, searching for any indication of transgenerational labor at the University.  The possibility of this is demonstrated in Lucy Cheesmen, the fifth name listed on the Bursar check. Lucy Cheesmen washed eight badges and received $15 for her work. Lucy Cheesmen was born Lucy Burrell. The Burrell family is noted in the 1870 census as having the occupations of “farm laborer” and “keeping house” [3]. Lucy continued to maintain the university following emancipation at a low salary and with comparable tasks.

Moving chronologically in my research, I entered the latter half of the twentieth century with the James City County Oral History Collection [4]. The collection was highly organized, with indices listing the oral history participants and reported subjects, including “black/white relations,” “civil war,” and “Ewell.” The transcripts of the oral interviews began by listing the individual’s familial and professional history. This allowed one to note a family history of employment with the University. The interviews demonstrated the effects of a persistent racial divide in the Historic Triangle. When asked what the community’s most significant change has been since being there, Alleyne Blayton elaborated on the presence of black families on Duke of Gloucester. Blayton states that race has not changed, as “Williamsburg still has a long way to go in supplying equal opportunities for minority people.”

The twentieth-century material within early Bursar records and the late oral histories demonstrates how the African American community continued to contribute to the local makeup in the post-Emancipation period. The new perspective of twentieth-century documents allows the modern audience to better conceptualize the relative recentness of institutional oppression in Williamsburg. I felt more connected to the historical process of researching the twentieth century. I gained an increased sense of empathy in seeing the continued historical effects of enslavement at William & Mary.

[1] Office of the Bursar Records, Special Collections Research Center, Earl Gregg Swem Library, College of William and Mary.

[2] “Ewell Hall Dormitory.” n.d. Special Collections Knowledgebase. https://scrc-kb.libraries.wm.edu/ewell-hall-dormitory.

[3] 1870 United States Federal Census. Census Place: Bruton, York, Virginia; Roll: M593_1682; Page: 537B. https://www.ancestry.com/stories/public/connections?gender=female&firstname=Lucy&lastname=Cheesmen&birthlocation=Williamsburg,%20Virginia,%20USA&birthlocationid=24297&campaign=8b78cd49-faa2-40fe-8603-ce282d3013e1&matchfirstname=Lucille&matchlastname=Cheesman&matchdates=1906-1920&storyid=059366bf-8957-4358-85e5-c5d898db20b8

[4] James City County Oral History Collection, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, College of William and Mary.

Leave a Comment

Virginia’s Racial Integrity Act of 1924

Published May 8, 2024

By Monet Watson, Anthropology Graduate Assistant, 2023-2024

In the early twentieth century, Virginia was a hotbed of racial tension, and the state’s legislature enacted the Racial Integrity Act of 1924, a piece of legislation that left a profound and enduring impact on the racial landscape of Virginia. This blog post will delve into the history, intent, and consequences of the Racial Integrity Act, shedding light on a dark chapter in Virginia’s history. While introducing a particulate interesting segment of history that continues to muddle the understanding of race, even today. Rewriting racial categories makes it challenging to pinpoint individuals who are of interest to the Lemon Project or simply lived in an undefined category that was flattened and homogenized under sweeping rulings, such as the Racial Integrity Act of 1924.

The early twentieth century was marked by racial prejudice and discrimination in the United States. Virginia, like many other states, had a long history of racial inequality, dating back to the days of slavery and Jim Crow laws. The racial landscape of the state was further complicated by the so-called “one-drop rule,” which considered anyone with even a single drop of African ancestry to be a Black person. Virginia, however, was interested in preserving what it deemed to be “racial purity.”

The Racial Integrity Act of 1924

The Racial Integrity Act, passed by the Virginia General Assembly in 1924, sought to codify the state’s vision of racial purity and prevent interracial marriage. It had two primary components:

  • Racial Classification: The act classified Virginians into two categories – “White” and “Colored.” Individuals were required to identify themselves as one or the other, and any person with any trace of African or “colored” ancestry was to be classified as “Colored.”
  • Prohibition of Interracial Marriage: The act made it illegal for individuals to marry someone of a different race. Any interracial marriage that occurred outside of Virginia was also declared void within the state.

Impact and Consequences

The Racial Integrity Act had significant and long-lasting effects:

  • Perpetuating Racial Discrimination: By rigidly defining race and codifying racial segregation, the law reinforced the racial divisions and discrimination already present in Virginia.
  • Forced Racial Identification: The act placed the burden on individuals to classify themselves based on the state’s narrow definitions of race, often leading to complex and painful personal decisions.
  • Family Disruption: Families with diverse racial backgrounds were torn apart as they were forced to conform to the state’s definitions of race, causing heartache and separation.
  • Challenges to Personal Freedom: The act violated individual rights and autonomy by interfering in personal choices, including whom to marry.

Legacy and Repeal

The Racial Integrity Act of 1924 remained in place for nearly 50 years. In 1967, the U.S. Supreme Court case of Loving v. Virginia declared that all laws prohibiting interracial marriage were unconstitutional. This landmark decision effectively invalidated the Racial Integrity Act and marked a significant step forward in the fight against racial discrimination.

Virginia’s Racial Integrity Act of 1924 is a stark reminder of the commonwealth’s historical struggles with racial inequality and discrimination. The act’s impact on individuals, families, and communities was profound, and its legacy continues to be felt today. Understanding the history of such laws is essential in the ongoing pursuit of racial justice and equality, as we work to ensure that every individual is treated with respect and dignity, regardless of their racial background.

Comments closed

Virginia’s History and Race-Based Slavery

Published April 10, 2024

By Monet Watson, Anthropology Graduate Assistant 2023-2024

The history of Virginia in the 1700s to 1900s is deeply intertwined with the complex concept of race. The state, one of the original thirteen American colonies, played a significant role in shaping the United States and its evolution in race relations is a microcosm of the broader national struggle. The concept of race, as we understand it today, did not exist in the same form during the early colonial period. Virginia’s first African enslaved people were brought to Jamestown in 1619. Slavery and the notion of racial difference became increasingly intertwined as the economic system of the colonies grew. The 1700s marked the codification of slavery as a racially based institution, and a system of race-based discrimination began to take root.

Virginia’s economy heavily relied on agriculture, with tobacco as the dominant cash crop. The cultivation of tobacco was labor-intensive, leading to a high demand for enslaved labor. As a result, the institution of slavery in Virginia became firmly entrenched. The enslaved population, primarily of African descent, was subjected to grueling conditions and systemic oppression, which further emphasized racial divisions. This is the context in which William & Mary purchased a farm and grow tobacco in 1718, along with 17 people to work on the plantation. The institutionalized efforts to reinforce and legitimized slavery continued as time progressed.

Legislation and Legalization of Racism

Virginia’s lawmakers passed a series of laws in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries that perpetuated racial divisions and solidified the status of African Americans as slaves. The infamous Virginia Slave Codes of 1705 reinforced the idea that being of African descent automatically meant one was enslaved for life. These laws also imposed harsh penalties for interracial relationships, marriages, and gatherings, further segregating the population along racial lines.

American Revolution and the Paradox of Liberty

The American Revolution introduced the idea of freedom and equality, but the reality for African Americans in Virginia was far from these ideals. Some enslaved individuals found hope in the revolutionary rhetoric, and some even fought in the war, but the post-Revolution period did not bring the desired liberation. Instead, the early nineteenth century saw stricter slave laws and regulations in Virginia, further deepening the racial divide.

Antebellum Period and the Growth of Racial Hierarchies

As the nineteenth century progressed, Virginia’s economy diversified, with more focus on industry and agriculture. The institution of slavery continued to thrive, and racial hierarchies became even more pronounced. Slaveholders and white elites held immense power, while African Americans faced oppression and limited rights.

Civil War and Emancipation

The American Civil War (1861-1865) had a profound impact on race relations in Virginia. While the Confederacy defended slavery as a fundamental institution, the Union Army’s presence and the Emancipation Proclamation (1863) marked significant steps towards the abolition of slavery. After the war, the 13th Amendment (1865) formally ended slavery in the United States, leading to the Emancipation of enslaved African Americans in Virginia and across the nation.

Reconstruction and Jim Crow Era

The period following the Civil War, known as Reconstruction, briefly offered African Americans greater political and civil rights. However, these gains were short-lived, as the rise of the Jim Crow era saw the reinstatement of racial segregation, discrimination, and violence. Virginia, like many other Southern states, implemented policies that disenfranchised African Americans and reinforced racial divisions.

The concept of race in Virginia during the 1700s to 1900s is a complicated, painful, and evolving story. It is a narrative of oppression, resistance, and transformation. While the historical struggles and injustices faced by African Americans in Virginia are undeniable, their resilience and determination have played a pivotal role in shaping the state’s present and future. The Lemon Project works towards reconciliation and to make public the history of African Americans at William & Mary. The legacy of this complicated history continues to influence discussions about race, equality, and justice in Virginia and the United States today. Understanding this history is essential in moving towards a more equitable and inclusive future.

Comments closed
Celebrating Black History Month in the Archives

Celebrating Black History Month in the Archives

Published February 2, 2024

Dr. Jajuan Johnson and Sierra Manga, the Lemon Project intern for Spring 2024, are starting Black History Month at William & Mary Libraries’ Special Collections Research Center. They are making major findings on African Americans who worked at William & Mary in the early twentieth century.

For example, Dr. Johnson and Ms. Manga found an invoice to the college from Samuel Harris’s Dry Goods’ Store. Harris was a wealthy African American businessman who lived in Williamsburg in the late 1800s. His store remained open after the 1902 Virginia Constitutional Convention, which disenfranchised African Americans in the commonwealth. Harris died in 1904 and is buried at Cedar Grove Cemetery. We look forward to sharing more findings at the Lemon Project Genealogy Research Roundtable on February 15th at 6 pm.

1 Comment

Undiscovering the Archive

Published November 8, 2023

By Shawna Alston, Summer 2022-2023 Charles Center Incubator Research Student         

Archival research is a fully involved, tedious effort usually begun in an attempt to find something elusive or undiscovered. Deciding to embark on the journey of exploring university, local, or private archives requires a research question worth the effort, I asked myself, “what’s worth knowing, and more importantly, what’s so worth knowing that I should decide to tame the beast that is Special Collections under renovation and the Flat Hat digital archive?”

After discussions with Drs. Jody Allen, Sarah Thomas, and Robyn Schroder, I had first decided to reinvigorate the research I had done last summer with the Lemon Project and attempt to make new connections or discoveries. I spent seven weeks last summer connecting physical campus landmarks with their disembodied laborers, or, who built what; when, where, and why, and for how much? I focused solely on the time right before, during, and directly after the Great Depression, during which much of campus was erected. I found myself barely engaging with The Archives last summer, as most of my research existed in easily accessible, public domains. I was able to seamlessly pull a research project together with the literature provided by the Lemon Project and the financial records and campus maps I got from my one visit to Special Collections. My product, an interactive StoryMap, detailed my research and potential caveats for future research.

Before my exploration into the archive, I had settled on the research topic of Black performance culture on a campus where Black students had yet been granted permission to attend, meaning William & Mary’s campus before 1969, when the first Black undergraduate students in residence arrived. Simply put, think Chitlin Circuit meets William & Mary. I wanted to know who was asked to perform, why, and who was allowed to attend these performances. More broadly, I wanted to (see if I could) connect these performances and the culture surrounding them to the afterlife of minstrelsy and minstrel theater. On top of this, I was tasked with combing through the digital archive of William & Mary’s premier newspaper, The Flat Hat.

With this experience under my belt, I knew that my research journeys this summer would pose no real challenge. I had this idea that archival research is a lot like “book” research, or reading things, making inferences, and drawing conclusions. I was wrong, but not because I lacked work ethic or proper motivation, but because The Archive, or the collection of written record and evidence of existence, is a segregated institution.

With a goal in mind and a resource in hand, I began what I thought was going to be an easily curated research project. I set abstract time boundaries, from 1915 to 1945, and began perusing The Flat Hat for any evidence of a Black musical performer/performance group. Ask me what I found…no, go ahead…ask. Nothing. I spent about a week keyword searching The Flat Hat and combing through every released issue between the aforementioned dates. I found nothing. I scheduled an appointment with Special Collections and spent hours combing through boxes of old photographs, programs for on-campus productions, costume sketches, and student organization archived files; anything you could think of, I went through it. And yet, nothing. I spent the following weeks shifting the boundaries of my time period and repeating the process as the previous week. And still, I found nothing.

My research teammate, Fatoumata Sissoko, was responsible for combing through The Colonial Echo archives and everything I was looking for, she found. I had shifted my time period from 1915-1945 to 1960-1975, and Fata had found a well of information in a few snapshots in The Colonial Echo. Below is the list, in chronological order, of Black performers who visited the campus between 1960-1975:

1966
The Shirelles performed (70)
1967
Chuck Berry performed for Homecoming (21, and another page)
Mention of Dionne Warwick and the Four Tops insinuating they also visited and performed (21)
1968
The Drifters performed for Homecoming (41)
Wilson Pickett performed for Homecoming (41)
1970
Martha and the Vandellas perform for Homecoming concert (33)
The Impressions perform for the Spring Finals formal (39)
1974
Taj Mahal- musical artist (56)
Black culture week (103)
Guests include James Brown and African dance group (57)
1975
 Sly Stone (188)
The Platters (208)
Jackson Five canceled because of low tickets sales (209)
George Macrae performed (209)
BSO pages (290)

            This information was the most useful information I had discovered in all of my research endeavors, so my next goal was cross-referencing this information with anything I could find in The Flat Hat digital archive. I went through each of these respective years in The Flat Hat archive and tried to find even the slightest detail, like a time or place, or a review of the show. I found nothing. I cross-referenced and cross-referenced and cross-referenced and found…nothing. Nothing for big names like Dionne Warwick or James Brown or Chuck Berry. I looked and searched and looked and searched and the only thing I found were advertisements for Roses or alumni run beer companies.

            This frustrated me to know end. If The Colonial Echo has proof that these things exist, why doesn’t The Flat Hat? Why doesn’t The Flat Hat have any proof of Black life beyond Duke Ellington coming to visit in 1959? I was faced with the discovery of undiscovery and what that says about the sociopolitical climate of campus at the time and how that was reflected in how history was recorded. I was faced with no findings as my findings. What I didn’t find says so much more than what I could’ve found.

            A larger conversation about the institution of the Archive and its anti-Blackness and segregation is a conversation that I’m willing to have. Going forward, my plan is to engage critical scholarship on the anti-Blackness of recorded history, and more specifically, whose history gets to be recorded, and who gets to be remembered.

Leave a Comment
Researching Rev. L.W. Wales, Jr.

Researching Rev. L.W. Wales, Jr.

Published September 27, 2023

by Olivia Blackshire, an Independent Study student with Dr. Jody Allen

When I started an independent study with Dr. Allen, I was not quite sure what to expect. I was familiar with research papers and searching databases; however, being on assignment for the serious inquiries of a family was a big deal. For the next 15 weeks, I spent time ̶ at the request of Ms. Wilhelmina White ̶ researching the life and times of the Wales family, specifically L.W. Wales, Jr. Both Rev. Wales, Sr., and Rev. Wales, Jr., were activists and leaders in this community, and surrounding their lives was an eagerness to know how they impacted the world around them. Filled with excitement and a responsibility to piece together the family’s story in Williamsburg, I began my research.

I found the story of Rev. Wales, Jr., by first reading about the man who set the foundation for his life, his father. L.W. Wales, Sr. (1860 – 1927) was not only a pastor at Mt. Ararat Baptist Church for 42 years, but was also a pillar of the community. As principal of Williamsburg Public School Number Two and a teacher in various counties, he was active in the educational realm and perhaps planted the seed for Bruton Heights School, an all-Black high school, since he talked about that and about plans for funding in his Brief Autobiographical Sketch.[1] He also published a leaflet called The Peninsula Churchman, which detailed his church work and school-building efforts. He rubbed elbows with lots of people, including Benjamin S. Ewell, a former Confederate general and former president of William & Mary.[2] Furthermore, L.W. Wales, Sr. was financially well off; tax records showed that he was one of the highest earners in his area[3], and he “succeeded in buying a considerable amount of real estate, holding and owning some in almost every section of the city of Williamsburg and some in Newport News.”[4]

Considering such a track record, L. W. Wales, Jr., (1895-19654) had big shoes to fill. Although his legacy was not like his father’s, he made an impact. Picking up the mantle as pastor after his father’s death in 1927, Rev. Wales, Jr. worked for Mt. Ararat for 36 years, doing much for the relocation and beautification of the church during his tenure.[5] According to the 1982 Mt. Ararat Baptist Church Centennial Anniversary Souvenir, Rev. Wales Jr., worked within schools alongside his wife, Evelyn Wales. A report by historian Linda H. Rowe describes him as an advocate for the construction of James City Training School, a predecessor of Bruton Heights School.[6] He too even made his mark in real estate, having enough property to create the Wales subdivision housing for low- and moderate-income families in the 1940s.[7]

There were a lot of memorable moments from this search. Anytime I’d find new information, especially an image, I always felt like I was discovering more pieces to the puzzle. I’m also grateful for the people I met along the way, like Sidney (a graduate student working with the Lemon Project), Earl T. Granger III (Colonial Williamsburg’s Chief Developmental Officer), and Clifford B. Fleet III (Colonial Williamsburg President and CEO) during a trip to the John D. Rockefeller Jr. Library.

Two significant thoughts come to mind as I reflect on my studies with Dr. Allen. For one, history is a form of detective work. Sometimes the whole thing feels like you’re trying to crack a cold case. You’re digging through information that’s been mistreated (physically in the archive or historically through erasure), and the clues you need are not always readily available. Interpreting or making connections with limited time or facts is a tall order. Yet those who take on the challenge may be the only ones preventing someone’s story from fading into obscurity.

I also found that if one works in this field, one must be flexible to change; sometimes the search doesn’t end the way you expect, and that’s okay. Although I didn’t find or get through as much as I wanted, I still managed to learn about the church’s history and the Wales’ place in it and the surrounding communities. You may not find what you’re looking for, but the process you take to get there, and the things you find along the way, are just as rewarding. Those quotes about the journey being better than the destination may have some merit after all.

[1] Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

[2] Brief Autobiographical Sketch of the Life and Labors of Rev. L. W. Wales, D.D (1910) from Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

[3] James City County and Williamsburg City Personal Property Books, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, College of William and Mary.

[4] Brief Autobiographical Sketch of the Life and Labors of Rev. L. W. Wales, D.D (1910) from Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

[5] Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

[6] “A History of Black Education and Bruton Heights School, Williamsburg, Virginia” by Linda Rowe (1997). https://research.colonialwilliamsburg.org/DigitalLibrary/view/index.cfm?doc=ResearchReports%5CRR0373.xml&highlight=negro

[7] Williamsburg Reunion Booklet (2012) from Herbert and Doris Crump Rainey Papers, 1945-2013, Special Collections Research Center, Swem Library, William and Mary.

Leave a Comment
Sharpe Community Scholar’s Reflections on Working with the Lemon Project

Sharpe Community Scholar’s Reflections on Working with the Lemon Project

Published July 12, 2023

By Alexis Beck, William & Mary Sharpe Scholar, with Caroline Watson, Lemon Project Graduate Assistant

Reflecting on my time at The Lemon Project, I can’t help but be amazed at how fun and interesting it has been. The project itself is dedicated to uncovering and preserving lesser-known pieces of history, particularly those concerning the African American communities at William & Mary and in Williamsburg broadly. However, a singular photo captivated my attention and enhanced my experience as a first-year Sharpe Scholar.

During my involvement with The Lemon Project, I worked with Ph.D. student Caroline Watson to learn more about William & Mary’s archaeology documentary archive. During this work, Caroline found an intriguing photo in the Anthropology attic archive. When she had the time, she eagerly showed me this photo, which in physical form lacked proper documentation. There was no description or timestamp. It appeared to be from the early 1930s, possibly even the 1940s, based on the material context clues, like the style of archeology, the tools, the wooden shed, and the Oldsmobile-style car in the background. This photo became a captivating mystery project that Caroline and I embarked on. With further research, we eventually unraveled the mystery behind the photo. We learned that the photo was already well-documented by Colonial Williamsburg. It turned out to be a snapshot of the Governor’s Palace from 1930, featuring a group of unknown Black archaeologists who had worked on the earlier restoration of Colonial Williamsburg. Colonial Williamsburg’s Meredith Poole provides context on the photo here.

This photo piqued my interest because it demonstrated the major contributions made by Black archaeologists at a period when their presence in the field was frequently overlooked, marginalized, or outright erased. Indeed, this snapshot expands on our understanding of the physical and social aspects of archaeological operations in early 20th-century Williamsburg. Yet, some questions haunted us during this process of learning more about the photo. Questions like, “Who are the black men archaeologists depicted here?” and “Was their labor properly compensated and documented?” Moreover, we were left questioning how the context in which we encountered this photo—a standalone image with no description nor label—reproduces silences over these Black laborers, their identities, and their contributions to Williamsburg’s history. Given the blog post referenced above, Colonial Williamsburg has already been asking these questions. Perhaps The Lemon Project can help here, too.

Initially, when I signed up for the internship opportunity provided by Sharpe Scholars, I had anticipated mostly engaging in busy work. However, to my pleasant surprise, my time working alongside Caroline turned out to be thoroughly insightful and an exciting introduction to the roller-coaster that archival work often is. Little did I envision that we would embark on a short but thrilling adventure regarding the mystery photo.

Ultimately, my time at The Lemon Project has been immensely enriching. The identification of the photograph of Black archaeologists at the Governor’s Palace cellar excavation reignited my interest in history and reinforced my willingness to get further involved with the project. I’m delighted to go on new adventures during my next 3 years at W&M and continue to make a difference by researching and sharing long-ignored or forgotten narratives.

1 Comment

New Lemon Project Research Findings on Slavery at William & Mary

Published April 26, 2023

By Dr. Jajuan Johnson, Mellon Postdoctoral Research Associate, The Lemon Project

Over the past two years, the Lemon Project Genealogy Initiative has built alliances with researchers in Williamsburg, the greater Tidewater area, and globally. Through training, our student interns help mine digital platforms and special collections to find extant sources providing more data about the lives of people once enslaved by the university. In fall 2022, Margaret Perry, a W&M alumnus and researcher at Colonial Williamsburg’s’ Apothecary Shop, met with Dr. Jody Allen, Lemon Project intern Alex Montano, and me to share medical account records that list names of people enslaved by William & Mary in the Galt Papers (Galt-Barraud Partnership, 1782-1799; John M. Galt I & Alexander D. Galt Operating as Galt & Son,1800-1808; and Alexander Galt, 1809 – 1841) located in the Special Collections Research Center at Swem Library.   

The Galt Family Medical Practice

The Galt family medical practice lasted in the Williamsburg and Yorktown area from the late eighteenth century through the nineteenth centuries. Dr. John Minson Galt, I was educated at William & Mary and received medical in Edinburgh and Paris. In addition to his extensive independent medical practice, whereby he treated people enslaved by William & Mary and others, Galt I was also an attending physician of the Public Hospital of Williamsburg (currently Eastern State Hospital), the first psychiatric hospital in the United States. His son, Dr. Alexander D. Galt, and grandson of Dr. John M. Galt, carried on his practice; both served as superintendents of the hospital.[i]

The Findings

The Galt-Barraud Papers are the professional and personal papers of the Galt family of Williamsburg in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. The preliminary findings in the medical ledgers, notably the W&M account, revealed the following:

  • The names of 28 people enslaved by W&M
  • Lemon, who the Lemon Project is named after, is listed in the records 19 times from 1785 to 1814, indicating that he experienced health complications over a long period leading to his death.
  • Six people not previously on our list appear in the Galt Papers and have been added to Hearth: Memorial to the Enslaved, as of March 2023
NameDates & Records
Miame1786, 1787, 1788, 1790,1791, 1793,1794, Galt-Barraud Partnership Papers
Miame’s Child1788, 1789,1790,1795, Galt-Barraud Partnership Papers
Jamie1787, Galt Barraud Partnership Papers
1812, Alexander D. Galt Medical Records
Jim1785, Galt-Barraud Partnership Papers
Jimmy1783, Galt-Barraud Partnership Papers
Franky’s Child1787, 1796, 1799, Galt-Barraud Partnership Papers

Our team, which includes Lemon Project intern Lena Bullard, a first-year William & Mary student, is further searching the records to gain clues about enslavers and the people held in bondage. These significant records provide additional information on the physical condition of people enslaved by the university, and there are lists of individuals and families of other enslavers.

MsV 5 – Galt-Barraud Ledger A, 1782-1797, fols. 116, 204. Galt Papers (I), series 3, box 3. Swem SCRC.

[i] Galt Family of Williamsburg Source: The William & Mary Quarterly, Vol. 8, No. 4 (April 1900), pp. 259-262 (also see: W&M Knowledge Base, John Minson Galt, https://scrc-kb.libraries.wm.edu/john-minson-galt-1744-1808; see Dr. Barraud Historical Report https://research.colonialwilliamsburg.org/DigitalLibrary/view/index.cfm?doc=ResearchReports%5CRR1193.xml&highlight=

Leave a Comment

How does archaeology (re)define place at William & Mary?

Published December 14, 2022

by Caroline Watson, Anthropology Graduate Assistant

Archaeology is intimately tied to the concept of place. Many think that archaeology is about discovering “new” places. Yet most often what archaeologists do is reveal places that already exist —places that have been ignored, reburied, or shifted around over time by natural or deliberate forces. A current of discovery does exist in the undertow of archaeological investigation, however, especially as we think of how social forces become entangled with the material world in ways that continuously create or reimagine meaningful places.

In thinking of how meaningful material places are constructed at William & Mary, it helps to keep an open mind. Let’s start with the brick walkways around campus—have they ever looked the same one day to the next? Really think about it! Every day, these bricks transport people to their campus destinations, and they are shifted around ever so slightly by the people who walk (or trip!) over them, steal them, or remove them to create space for new construction. Yet, despite these everyday delicate changes, many still perceive the bricks as a singular entity. Through this process, they have become a material index to William & Mary’s image, identity, and history. We can therefore imagine how these very human actions and experiences become embedded into William & Mary’s bricks. This is what makes them an inherently archaeological place imbued with cultural meaning.

But what happens when those bricks are associated with just one social history? The university, like many others, has intentionally maintained its brick aesthetic to uphold the image of William & Mary as a place for academic elites. Yet, this image is inherently constructed by whitewashing the university’s history and stripping away other social identities from the campus landscape. This becomes clear when we remember the free Black and enslaved workers who produced the bricks and buildings of Historic Campus themselves, but whose connection to the campus image has been historically and forcibly erased. In this way, bricks are a material entryway into understanding William & Mary’s construction of place.

Setting aside bricks for now (thank goodness, right?), my goal with the Lemon Project is to investigate other overlooked material places. By extension, this means I am also looking into the activities, behaviors, and people who are associated with campus places and who have long been overshadowed by colonial power. Materially speaking, the social lives and identities of enslaved peoples at William & Mary have been buried. For example, outbuildings, possibly associated with enslaved people, were destroyed during the construction of the Sunken Garden. Campus renovation projects have torn down buildings and drastically altered the campus landscape and its archaeological record. What’s more, all these physical changes are coated with layers of intentional forgetting. To reimagine William & Mary in more inclusive ways, then, we must first understand the processes through which non-white identities were disassociated from campus places and then work to re-associate this landscape with their experiences, activities, and presence.

There are several places we can start. As I have mentioned in previous Lemon Project presentations, one place where archaeology has helped materialize enslaved history is through the identification of a subfloor pit in the President’s House parking lot. This feature dates to around the mid-19th century based on the artifacts that came from it.[1] Archaeologists working in the mid-Atlantic region have long associated these dug-out features with enslaved living quarters.[2] I argue that such a finding on Historic Campus represents a possible place where the lives and labors of enslaved people emerge from the buried surface. In this perspective, the Wren Yard ceases to exist as a place of stagnant and permanent white history. Instead, it becomes an area of active archaeological inquiry.

William & Mary faculty, staff, and students are also constructing other material “ruptures” in new ways that create space for Black histories. Hearth: Memorial to the Enslaved and the Sankofa Seed sculpture, for example, are two places where silenced memories at William & Mary erupt and exist on the campus landscape. Hearth (pronounced /härTH/) is a place that grounds multiple temporalities. It simultaneously rematerializes the presence of enslaved people at William & Mary while also fostering a new sense of belonging for students of color, past, present, and future. Recent excavations in the Wren South yard, close to where Hearth is now, also bring forth the memory of enslaved labor through material findings. Archaeologists identified a large saw pit in this area of Historic Campus, a feature that directly associates this space with labor activities, like brickmaking, food preparation, and butchering.[3] Enslaved people did this work. Thus, a strong link is forged between Hearth, which sits on the visible surface, and other material evidence of enslaved history that persists on campus below the ground. In this case, an archaeological perspective has helped to create a more meaningful and inclusive narrative about a place of Black history on campus. I hope that my work can continue to blend the past, present, and future in ways that help us reimagine places at William & Mary.

[1] Moore, W.H. (2006). Archaeological Survey and Evaluation of the Proposed Manhole Structure Project Area, President’s House Parking Lot, College of William and Mary, City of Williamsburg, Virginia. WMCAR Project No. 06-16. William and Mary Center for Archaeological Research, 40. Interested in seeing these reports? I’ve been digitizing them! Email lemon@wm.edu for a scan.

[2] Samford, Patricia (2007). Subfloor pits and the archaeology of slavery in Colonial Virginia. University of Alabama Press.

[3] Edwards, Andrew C. (2016). Archaeology of the South Wren Yard. The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 79-107.

Leave a Comment