Chocolate City: A History of Race and Democracy in the Nation's Capital

CHOCOLATE CITY

CHOCOLATE CITY

A HISTORY OF RACE AND DEMOCRACY IN THE NATION’S CAPITAL

Chris Myers Asch & George Derek Musgrove

The University of North Carolina Press

Chapel Hill

THIS BOOK WAS PUBLISHED WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF THE JOHN HOPE FRANKLIN FUND OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA PRESS.

© 2017 Chris Myers Asch and George Derek Musgrove

All rights reserved Manufactured in the United States of America Set in Quadraat type by Tseng Information Systems, Inc.

The University of North Carolina Press has been a member of the Green Press Initiative since 2003.

Cover illustration by Sally Fry Scruggs

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Asch, Chris Myers, author. | Musgrove, George Derek, 1975– author.

Title: Chocolate City : a history of race and democracy in the nation’s capital / Chris Myers Asch and George Derek Musgrove.

Description: Chapel Hill : The University of North Carolina Press, [2017] | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2017026934 | ISBN 9781469635866 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781469635873 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: African Americans—Washington (D.C.)—History. | Washington (D.C.)—History. | Washington (D.C.)—Race relations.

Classification: LCC E185.93.D6 A78 2017 | DDC 305.8009753—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017026934

Portions of Chapter 13 appeared earlier in somewhat different form in Chris Myers Asch and George Derek Musgrove, ‘We Are Headed for Some Bad Trouble’: Gentrification and Displacement in Washington, D.C., 1920–2014, in Capital Dilemma: Growth and Inequality in Washington, D.C., ed. Derek Hyra and Sabiyha Price (New York: Routledge, 2015), 107–35.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Introduction | Always a Chocolate City

ONE          Your Coming Is Not for Trade, but to Invade My People and Possess My Country

A Native American World under Siege, 1608–1790

TWO          Of Slaving Blacks and Democratic Whites

Building a Capital of Slavery and Freedom, 1790–1815

THREE       Our Boastings of Liberty and Equality Are Mere Mockeries

Confronting Contradictions in the Nation’s Capital, 1815–1836

FOUR         Slavery Must Die

The Turbulent End to Human Bondage in Washington, 1836–1862

FIVE           Emancipate, Enfranchise, Educate

Freedom and the Hope of Interracial Democracy, 1862–1869

SIX             Incapable of Self-Government

The Retreat from Democracy, 1869–1890

SEVEN        National Show Town

Building a Modern, Prosperous, and Segregated Capital, 1890–1912

EIGHT        There Is a New Negro to Be Reckoned With

Segregation, War, and a New Spirit of Black Militancy, 1912–1932

NINE          Washington Is a Giant Awakened

Community Organizing in a Booming City, 1932–1945

TEN           Segregation Does Not Die Gradually of Itself

Jim Crow’s Collapse, 1945–1956

ELEVEN     How Long? How Long?

Mounting Frustration within the Black Majority, 1956–1968

TWELVE    There’s Gonna Be Flames, There’s Gonna Be Fighting, There’s Gonna Be Rebellion!

The Tumult and Promise of Chocolate City, 1968–1978

THIRTEEN  Perfect for Washington

Marion Barry and the Rise and Fall of Chocolate City, 1979–1994

FOURTEEN Go Home Rich White People

Washington Becomes Wealthier and Whiter, 1995–2010

Epilogue | That Must Not Be True of Tomorrow

History, Race, and Democracy in a New Moment of Racial Flux

Essay on Sources

Notes

Selected Bibliography

Index

ILLUSTRATIONS AND TABLES

Illustrations

Map of Washington, D.C.

Virginia / Discovered and Described by Captain John Smith, 1606

Plan of the City of Washington in the Territory of Columbia

A Slave-Coffle passing the Capitol

Ann Williams leaping out of a window

Slave Market of America

Secrets of the Prison-House

Celebration of the Abolition of Slavery

Company E of the Fourth U.S. Colored Infantry in D.C.

Significant Election Scene at Washington

View of Washington City

Students of the National Training School for Women and Girls, Washington, D.C.

Federal employees waiting for treatment at the Public Health Service

The Blind Alley of Washington, D.C.

Jewal Mazique, worker at the Library of Congress, on her way home

Charles Hamilton Houston

White families protest integration in Anacostia, 1954

Southwest Washington, early 1950s

Two girls play at the Neighbors, Inc., Art and Book Festival, 1964

Julius Hobson

Riot-damaged area during 1968 riots

White Man’s Road thru Black Man’s Home

Marion Barry inauguration, 1979

Residents protest open-air drug market in Mount Pleasant

Rioters in Mount Pleasant, 1991

Michelle Rhee

Tables

1. Washington’s black population, 1800–1830

2. Washington’s black population, 1830–1860

3. Washington’s population, 1870–1900

4. Washington’s population, 1910–1930

5. Washington’s population, 1940–1960

6. Washington’s population, 1970–1990

7. Washington’s population, 1990–2015

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book has its origins in a canceled class. In 2009, George Derek Musgrove’s African American History course at the University of the District of Columbia underenrolled, and the powers that be terminated the class on the first day. Derek was assigned a new course: History of the District of Columbia. A Baltimore native with no background in D.C. history, he stumbled through the ensuing semester, hurriedly reading any book on the District he could get his hands on just moments before heading to class.

A lover of self-deprecating stories, Derek shared his D.C. History woes with Chris Myers Asch, a D.C. native who had returned to his hometown and taken a position at UDC. We had become fast friends not simply because we were among a tiny handful of thirty-somethings teaching at UDC but also on the strength of our shared history with Freedom Schools. Derek had worked for the Children’s Defense Fund’s Freedom School Program for much of the 1990s, and Chris had cofounded and run the Sunflower County Freedom Project, a nonprofit program in rural Mississippi modeled on the Freedom Schools of the 1960s.

Derek encouraged Chris to join him in tackling the D.C. History course, and we jointly rewrote the syllabus. Teaching the course and interacting with our students deepened our love for the District, a beautiful, quirky, complicated, and sometimes maddening place too often mocked and misunderstood by outsiders. Like many native Washingtonians and longtime residents, we have a fierce pride in the city, despite (and perhaps because of) its flaws and fissures, particularly along racial lines. We wanted to tell our city’s story, warts and all, and we thought that the two of us—one white and one black, both historians of race in America—could write a compelling, insightful history that would help all Americans understand their nation’s capital.

For six years, we have labored together on this project. Life intervened repeatedly in the writing process. Our families grew, we changed jobs, we bought and rehabilitated beat-up old houses. At times the demands became too much. For a duration, Derek had to stop writing almost entirely, leaving Chris to write the first half of the book by himself. But throughout, the project was held together by a rich friendship, our love of D.C., and a broad vision of democracy that promises self-determination for the poor as well as the rich, the woman as much as the man, the black the same as the white.

The book that you are reading now owes a tremendous debt to the many wonderful teachers we have had throughout our lives. For Chris, two teachers from his days in D.C. public schools stand out. His eighth grade English teacher at Alice Deal Junior High, Rita Miles, pushed him to think about audience, rhythm, and sentence structure more than any teacher he had in college or graduate school. Ms. Miles spent more than four decades turning unfocused middle schoolers into sharp writers. His eleventh grade AP U.S. history teacher at Wilson High, Erich Martel, gently prodded him to think critically about sources and challenged him to question his assumptions. Though soft-spoken in class, Mr. Martel has a spine of steel and has stood up for his students and his principles in countless battles against school officials. Derek must thank the journalist and student of D.C.’s go-go scene, Natalie Hopkinson, who challenged him to write for a general audience, offering biting but incisive commentary.

A book of this scope also incurs tremendous intellectual debts. We build on the work of many dedicated scholars—including Constance McLaughlin Green, Letitia Woods Brown, Howard Gillette, Kate Masur, and others—who have contributed deeply researched books, articles, and dissertations that have helped us understand the richness and complexity of race and democracy in D.C. Please read the Essay on Sources to learn more about the intellectual foundations of the book and the shifting interpretations of D.C. history in the past century.

The field of D.C. history is blessed not only with scholars but also with a wide range of students, bloggers, and local history aficionados who have spent years writing articles, interviewing community members, rummaging through old newspapers, defending local landmarks, and telling the stories that preserve our city’s history. Often unsung, these local historians produce the types of fine-grained, in-depth studies that give texture and nuance to sweeping narratives such as this book.

Two extraordinary local historians deserve particular mention: Jane Freundel Levey and Kathryn Schneider Smith. Levey was the driving force behind the creation of a remarkable set of well-researched walking tours that trace the history of D.C. neighborhoods. She has been a firm (but kind) critic almost since this book’s inception. Smith helped organize the team of historians who produced the first D.C. history textbook, City of Magnificent Intentions (1983). Smith, with Levey’s help, launched Washington History magazine in 1989, and the two have been prolific writers and editors in the field. They have brought D.C. history to untold thousands of students, tourists, policy makers, and others.

We appreciate the ongoing work of the D.C. Public Library’s Washingtoniana Division, a treasure trove of local history; Howard University’s Moorland-Spingarn Research Center, which offers remarkable oral histories, personal collections, and organizational papers essential to understanding the city; the Historical Society of Washington, D.C., whose Washington History remains the best source for original research on the city; and the Special Collections at George Washington University’s Gelman Library, which preserve a wide range of local source material. It simply would not be possible to conduct serious local research without these resources.

We also tap into the vast pool of newspapers and other contemporary articles about the city. In academic (and political) circles, it can be fashionable to lament the supposed shallowness and simplicity of the media. But where would we be without journalists reporting on things as they happen? Reporters don’t have the luxury of time; they don’t get long sabbaticals to ruminate about their work; they don’t get to hash out ideas in seminars and conferences. They just write, often much better than we historians do, under ferocious pressures of time and print space, and they capture moments that otherwise would vanish from the historical record. The National Intelligencer, the Evening Star, the Washington Bee, the Washington Post, and other local newspapers take detailed snapshots of the city, offering contemporary interviews, opinions, and ideas that help us understand how people viewed the events through which they were living. We tip our hats to them.

Unsurprisingly, our most illuminating sources for the latter chapters were the participants themselves. We thank Al Hill, who straightened out the city’s finances in the early 1980s; Johnny Barnes, who defended the Seaton Street tenants and worked as chief of staff to Delegate Walter Fauntroy; Jimmy Garrett, a member of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and cofounder of the Center for Black Education; Tony Lewis Jr., who grew up on Hanover Place NW; Frank Watkins and Ray Anderson, who worked for Jesse Jackson in the early 1990s; and Joyce Ladner, the SNCC veteran and member of the Financial Control Board. All of them engaged in long conversations with Derek about the events under consideration.

Many D.C. history specialists willingly gave their time to strengthen the book. Members of our D.C. writing group, including Bell Clement, Amanda Huron, Katie Wells, and Brett Williams, offered important feedback and insight on various chapters. Ken Bowling, Joseph Genetin-Pilawa, Tikia Hamilton, Kate Masur, Samir Meghelli, Al Moss, Joe Reidy, Sarah Shoenfeld, William G. Thomas, and Eric Yellin contributed their remarkable knowledge of particular eras and people to help us avoid many mistakes.

Some of the most valuable feedback came from readers who had no specialized knowledge in D.C. history. Students of Chris’s Race and Democracy in D.C. class at Colby College wrote chapter-by-chapter Editor’s Notes of the manuscript in progress—they offered a reader’s perspective that forced us to clarify and strengthen our prose. We particularly appreciated Zoë Gibson, Maggie Hojlo, Nathalie Kirsch, Ian Mansfield, and Acquib Yacoob for their thoughtful, thorough, and at times brutally honest comments. District teachers Cosby Hunt and Brian Rohal shared our work with their students and helped us make the book more accessible to a wider audience. Scholars and friends, including Terry Bouton, Kate Brown, Justin Dillon, Steve Estes, Noralee Frankel, Rachel Reinhard, Gabe Ross, Michelle Scott, and Jason Morgan Ward also offered important perspectives on our work.

Derek has enjoyed the support of the rich community of scholars in the University of Maryland Baltimore County’s Department of History, particularly Marjoleine Kars, who mentored him as an undergraduate before becoming his colleague. In a nice twist, Marjoleine studied under Peter Wood as a graduate student at Duke University—and Peter has been Chris’s mentor since Chris was an undergraduate at Duke. An extraordinary historian and a model mentor, Peter has been a steadfast supporter and a thoughtful critic of this book. Two of Chris’s friends, Gregg Costa and Shawn Raymond, have been an important source of encouragement, insight, and debate since their Teach For America days, when they lived in an unheated house in Itta Bena, Mississippi (Marion Barry’s birthplace!). Shawn read the first (often ugly) draft of each chapter; Gregg waited until the sausage was almost ready to be cooked before he weighed in.

Our families have been our rock and refuge. Our wives have endured years of squirreling away to work and helped carve out time for research trips and writing retreats away from the kids. Chris dedicates the book to Nana (aka his mother, Margery Myers), who grew up on Reno Road in Northwest Washington and still lives on Western Avenue NW in the house in which he grew up. She knows and loves the city deeply, and she has taught us to see the good in people and places that often are overlooked or neglected. We hope that this book helps her see her hometown in a new light. Derek dedicates the book to his two sons, George Walker Musgrove and John Freeman Musgrove, who were born in Washington and, knowing no other home, must come to terms with its history as they help to create its future.

CHOCOLATE CITY

INTRODUCTION

Always a Chocolate City

Surely nowhere in the world do oppression and persecution based solely on the color of the skin appear more hateful and hideous than in the capital of the United States, because the chasm between the principles upon which this Government was founded, in which it still professes to believe, and those which are daily practiced under the protection of the flag, yawns so wide and deep.

—MARY CHURCH TERRELL, 1906

Washington, D.C., seemed to be at its finest on August 28, 1963. Despite dire warnings of racial violence and chaos, the city welcomed more than 250,000 peaceful protesters for the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. Amassing near the Lincoln Memorial, the crowd listened to an interracial lineup of inspirational speakers, culminating with the dynamic young preacher from Alabama, Martin Luther King Jr. The civil rights movement had come to this hallowed spot, King insisted, to make real the promises of democracy.¹

Across the world viewers saw newsreels of King’s speech and images of the smiling, sweating, sign-toting throngs who represented a broad cross-section of America—black and white, young and old, Northern and Southern, Jew and Gentile. The march was vivid evidence of vibrant American democracy in action. Beautiful, orderly, and welcoming, the nation’s capital appeared to be the ideal staging ground for what King called the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.²

At the end of the day, most protesters piled onto buses to head back home, but roughly 10 percent of the march participants already were home. They were D.C. residents, natives of a city that was at once a shining symbol of America and a glaring rejection of democracy. Unlike other U.S. citizens, D.C. residents had no representation in Congress and lacked basic self-government. Theirs was a city run by three presidentially appointed commissioners, not locally elected officials. Washingtonians of all races had no voting rights that any elected representative anywhere was bound to respect.

King’s call to make real the promises of democracy struck a particularly resonant chord in D.C. because it was the first majority-black major city in the nation. The crowd at the March on Washington may have epitomized an ideal of interracial unity, but D.C. itself was in a state of racial turmoil and flux. Just three years earlier, the Census Bureau had given statistical confirmation to the massive demographic transformation that was remaking the city. In 1950, D.C. claimed more than eight hundred thousand residents, almost two-thirds of them white; by 1960, the city had lost a third of its white population and was roughly 54 percent black.³

White neighborhoods and schools that a decade before had been protected by restrictive covenants, federal law, and social customs now were almost entirely black. As jittery white families left Washington, city planners pushed urban renewal plans that paved over the majority-black neighborhoods of Southwest D.C. with highways to all-white suburbs, generating racial bitterness and spawning neighborhood protest movements. A new generation of black activists and their allies challenged federal and local authorities to provide adequate housing, equal educational opportunity, and basic political rights for the black majority. To such activists, the March on Washington only highlighted the vast gulf between the ideals that Washington represented and the realities that D.C. residents faced.

As black educator Mary Church Terrell articulated at the turn of the twentieth century, no city better captures these ongoing tensions between America’s expansive democratic hopes and its enduring racial realities than the nation’s capital. Contentious racial issues that have challenged our nation—from slavery to civil rights to urban violence—have played out with particular symbolic and substantive power in D.C.

Yet Washington is not simply emblematic of our larger national struggle for racial equality. It is a city like no other in the country, and its racial history is a peculiarly fascinating tale. Created by constitutional fiat and controlled by Congress, the District of Columbia is the voteless capital of a democracy, a seat of government highly sensitive to shifts in national politics, a city situated in the South but torn politically and culturally between North and South. Unlike other major Eastern cities, it was planned from the beginning and grew under the watchful gaze of national leaders. Almost alone among Southern cities, D.C. was home to a strong and public abolitionist movement, and its educated free black community made the city a beacon of black opportunity even during slavery. In contrast to other urban areas, it failed to develop any meaningful industry aside from government and did not attract a substantial population of white immigrants. Cosmopolitan yet parochial, emblematic yet unique, D.C. has served as a symbol of America yet stood apart from the nation.

Chocolate City traces the political, economic, and social history of race and democracy in this extraordinary city, from its inception as a slave capital through the racially tinged mayoral election of 2010. In that time, the city experienced massive transformations—from a sparsely inhabited plantation society into a booming metropolis, from a center of the slave trade to the nation’s first black-majority city, from a self-governing town to a federal fiefdom and back again. It has endured corrupt leadership and congressional meddling, weathered the Civil War and the crack epidemic, and survived urban renewal and multiple waves of gentrification.

Race is central to Washington history, so Chocolate City is not solely a history of D.C.’s African American community. Instead, we explore how questions of race and democracy have shaped life in the capital city for residents of all races. Thus we begin the study with the first racial battles to envelop the region, those between European settlers and Native Americans, and end with the twenty-first-century demographic revolution that is dramatically reshaping the city’s racial contours.

Race, above and beyond other factors (including class, region, politics, and religion), has proven to be the most significant explanation for social, economic, and political divisions in the city. Race may be a social and historical construction with little basis in biology, but it is also a powerful lived reality that has influenced how (and where) Washingtonians of all races have lived, worked, voted, and interacted. Since the city’s inception, race, racial tensions, and the changing racial demographics of the city’s population have been animating forces in the lives of capital city residents.

The District’s undemocratic political status has had a debilitating effect on race relations in the city. Washington is home to many marble monuments to freedom, yet it still suffers from the political tyranny that angered patriots during the American Revolution: taxation without representation. The city’s lack of political power and basic self-determination has profoundly affected its history, limiting its political and economic growth, placing it at the mercy of federal lawmakers, and forcing the city’s residents into a frustrating role as dependents and claimants rather than full citizens. This lack of democratic outlets has inflamed racial divisions in the city because race has been a primary factor in D.C.’s ongoing disenfranchisement.

Chocolate City examines how being the nation’s capital has had both a catalyzing and at times demoralizing effect on local racial struggles. As America’s capital city and home to national leaders and foreign observers, D.C. has often served as a battleground for national fights over the meaning of race and democracy, as well as a laboratory in which national ideas and agendas have been pursued on behalf (and at the expense) of local people. Washington is the living room of the Nation, a black educator told President Dwight Eisenhower in 1953, a symbol of the country that is held to a different standard than other cities. Placed in the national microscope, its racial struggles have been magnified and distorted.⁴

This book helps explain why racial mistrust is so deeply ingrained in the nation’s capital and the nation at large. Racial divisions, which parallel and accentuate lines of class, extend back to the founding of the city in the late eighteenth century; they deepened in the generations after the Civil War; they exploded during the tumultuous decades of the mid- and late twentieth century; and they continue to define life in the city in the twenty-first century. Washington has been marked by fears of racial domination, deadly race riots, and deep-seated racial bitterness. Though the election of the nation’s first black president in 2008 inspired some residents to imagine a postracial society, the city’s history of racial mistrust still implicates and at times envelopes newcomers and natives alike.

Yet the history of race and democracy in D.C. is not simply a litany of fears, riots, and antagonism. It is also an inspiring history of hopes, alliances, and interracial cooperation. Even as residents have struggled with racial conflict, Washington has attracted committed reformers who have worked across racial lines to build a more egalitarian city. The racial barriers that can seem so resilient have been remarkably fluid at different points in history. The extraordinary biracial movement to abolish slavery, the interracial attack on segregation, and the citywide effort to block freeways from destroying neighborhoods are examples of how Washingtonians have battled fear and mistrust to create positive change.

We are writing this book to deepen popular understanding about the ways that race and democracy interact in our city and nation. Too often, our public conversations about race lack historical awareness or an appreciation of the roots of many of our racial divisions. Contemporary racial struggles—in housing, education, law enforcement, politics, and elsewhere—are not simply phenomena that have emerged suddenly in the twenty-first century. They are the product of more than four centuries of racial conflict and mistrust that have helped create the context in which we live and interact.

The story we tell in these pages shows that racial progress is neither linear nor inevitable. It takes serious, difficult, often discomforting work, and advances can be (and often have been) reversed. We know that this story may agitate, frustrate, and anger our readers—as it should. But we hope, too, that it will inspire them to commit themselves to the struggle of building a more just, egalitarian, and democratic city that embodies the best of what our nation can be.

ONE

Your Coming Is Not for Trade, but to Invade My People and Possess My Country

A Native American World under Siege, 1608–1790

We shall by degrees chaung their barbarous natures, make them ashamed . . . of their savadge nakednes, informe them of the true god, and the waie to their salvation, and fynally teach them obedience to the kings Majestie and to his Governours.

—WILLIAM STRACHEY, 1612

The Anacostia River effectively splits Washington into two separate and unequal parts. To its north and west, the hills slope upward toward the monuments of the federal city and the affluent neighborhoods of Northwest Washington. To its south and east lay the flood-prone flats and hills of Far Southeast and Far Northeast. Cut off physically and psychologically from the rest of Washington, these East of the River communities historically have suffered from political neglect, economic deprivation, and social isolation.

The river itself reflects the area’s stagnation. Up through the early nineteenth century, the Anacostia rivaled the Potomac—it was a bustling trading channel deep enough for oceangoing vessels to travel to Bladensburg, Maryland, beyond the District’s northeastern border. But as tobacco-exhausted soils upstream eroded into the river, the silted Anacostia became too shallow for commercial use. The area’s economy shriveled. Despite the impressive efforts of local environmental groups, in the twenty-first century the Anacostia remains a litter-strewn barrier between a flourishing capital city and its poorest, blackest neighborhoods.¹

The word Anacostia, a term almost synonymous with black and poor in modern Washington, has its roots in the first racial struggles in the area that we now call the nation’s capital. The word emerged as a Latin pronunciation and spelling of Nacostine, the tribe of Native Americans who lived at the confluence of the Potomac and Anacostia Rivers. Three hundred in number at the dawn of the seventeenth century, the Nacostines lived in Nacotchtank, a sprawling village that dominated the river plain on which now sits Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling.²

Situated just below the fall line, a ragged break in the land where the Piedmont drops off to the coastal plain, Nacotchtank rested along the frontier that separated the Algonquian-speaking peoples of the Tidewater from the Iroquoian tribes of the hinterland. The two groups carried on a lucrative trade, gathering by the hundreds each year to hawk beaver pelts, copper, shell beads, and other goods. Using the natural advantage of their location, the Nacostines acted as intermediaries and profited handsomely.

The frontier brought prosperity, but it also brought danger as warriors from northern tribes such as the Susquehanock and Massawomack staged frequent and destructive raids into the upper Tidewater. Villages close to the fall line, including Nacotchtank, were particularly vulnerable to attack. They sought protection from paramount chiefdoms, entities in which a chief of chiefs commanded tribute from subject tribes in exchange for military protection.³

The Nacostines allied themselves with the Piscataways. From their base on the massive peninsula created by the Potomac River and the Chesapeake Bay, what today is Prince George’s County, Maryland, the Piscataways held sway over roughly seven thousand people. Nacotchtank stood along its western border, and the Nacostines paid tribute to the Piscataway chief, who made his capital at Mayone, just fifteen miles downriver where Piscataway Creek empties into the Potomac.

To the south and east of Nacotchtank lay the Piscataways’ rival, the mighty Powhatan Confederacy, named for its formidable leader. Based at Werowocomoco, on the York River in what is now Gloucester County, Virginia, Powhatan dominated the Tidewater from the southern shores of the Potomac all the way to the Neuse River in modern-day North Carolina. He commanded tribute from thirty subject tribes containing fifteen thousand people.⁴

When English colonists established an outpost on the James River in spring 1607, they settled amid this large, fractious, and politically sophisticated Native American population. Initially, they were interlopers in a Native American world, subject to the whims of its established rulers. Yet within just one hundred years that native-dominated world was gone, and the few Native Americans who remained in the area had become wards of the English king. In their place lived English settlers, servants, and slaves in the colonies of Maryland and Virginia. To understand how this transformation took place, we must explore the first struggles over race and democracy in the area that would become the capital of the United States.⁵

We Shall by Degrees Chaung Their Barbarous Natures: Native Americans Encounter European Explorers

Nacotchtank received its first European visitor, Captain John Smith, in summer 1608. Born to a family of farmers in Willoughby, Lincolnshire, Smith had, through force of will and sheer luck, transformed himself into a gentleman and adventurer. Fleeing an apprenticeship at the age of sixteen, he spent a decade as a mercenary in France, a privateer on the Mediterranean, and a slave in Turkey. On his return to England, he held the title of captain and moved in respectable circles. Still restless for adventure, Smith left London to join the Virginia Company’s efforts to establish a permanent colony in the Chesapeake.⁶

By the time that Smith landed at Nacotchtank, he and other English colonists had been in the Chesapeake for well more than a year. In May 1607, they had settled nearly two hundred miles to the south, in the heart of the Powhatan Confederacy. On a low-slung, swampy island they christened Jamestown, the colonists erected a palisaded fort and set about their appointed task of building England in America. The project went poorly. By September, inept leadership, disease, hunger, and hostilities with the surrounding Native Americans had cut their numbers nearly in half.⁷

Powhatan watched from afar as the new arrivals struggled to survive. He might have left the colonists to starve or dispatched a raiding party to wipe them out, but he saw in the intruders an opportunity to expand his economic and political power. The Chesapeake Algonquians believed that copper and translucent beads acted as conduits to the spirit world, and chiefs derived their power, in part, by controlling access to these precious objects. The Jamestown colonists had brought prodigious amounts of copper and beads from England, and iron tools as well, to trade for food. Powhatan, whom one Englishman described as of a daring spirit, vigilant, ambitious, subtle to enlarge his dominions, determined to gain exclusive access to these goods by incorporating the colonists into his paramount chiefdom.⁸

In December 1607, Powhatan commanded Smith and the colonists to leave Jamestown and settle at Capahowasick, just downriver from his capital. If they did so and provided him with hatchets and copper, Smith wrote, Powhatan promise[d] to give me corn, venison, or what I wanted to feed us . . . and none should disturb us.⁹ Though starving and harried by their Native American neighbors, the colonists must have thought Powhatan’s offer absurd and humiliating. They had crossed the Atlantic fully intending, indeed with instructions from the Virginia Company, to subjugate the natives and convert them to Christianity. We shall by degrees chaung their barbarous natures, make them ashamed . . . of their savadge nakednes, informe them of the true god, and . . . teach them obedience to the kings Majestie, wrote William Strachey of the colonists’ intentions. But the desperate winter of 1608 was no time for such condescension. Smith agreed to the terms, and Powhatan sent food, fulfilling his part of the bargain.¹⁰

Virginia / Discovered and Described by Captain John Smith, 1606; Graven by William Hole. Published in 1612, this map shows the Chesapeake region and Native American place-names. Chief Powhatan is depicted inside a longhouse in the upper left-hand corner. Library of Congress.

The colonists, however, reneged on the deal. Not only did they remain at Jamestown, but Smith began probing the soft edges of Powhatan’s territory to assess the military strength of the local population and map King James I’s new domain. In June and July 1608, he made the first of two voyages up the Chesapeake and its tributaries, sailing in an open barge with a crew of fourteen. The men surveyed several river systems of the Eastern Shore before recrossing the bay to explore the Patapsco and Potomac Rivers.¹¹

Unsurprisingly, Powhatan took offense and directed his subject chiefs to hound the exploring party. Along the banks of the lower Potomac, all the woods were layd with ambuscado’s to the number of three or foure thousand Salvages so strangely paynted, grimed and disguised, shouting, yelling and crying as so many spirits from hell could not have shewed more terrible, Smith wrote in his diary.¹²

The harassment ceased only when Smith passed out of Powhatan’s domain to the upper Potomac, where he became the first European to explore what is now Washington, D.C. When he reached Moyaones, Nacotchtant and Toags in mid-July, he wrote, the people did their best to content us. The three villages were part of the Piscataway Confederacy and likely greeted the explorers warmly because they hoped to ally themselves with the English against Powhatan, who had been expanding up the Potomac in recent years.¹³

If Powhatan initially had viewed the colonists as troublesome but nonetheless valuable allies, he now saw them as a threat. On Smith’s return to Jamestown, Powhatan summoned him to a tense meeting at which the chief accused the colonists of harboring grand designs on his territory: Your coming hither is not for trade but to invade my people and possess my country. Within a few short months, relations between the English and the confederacy deteriorated into warfare. The First Powhatan War, as the colonists and their descendants came to call it, lasted for five years and temporarily halted colonists’ exploration of the Chesapeake. With the English hunkered down in Jamestown, the Nacostines saw few Europeans and experienced little disruption to their way of life in the decade after contact.¹⁴

They Knew That Our Trade Might Hinder Their Benefit: English Traders Disrupt Native Networks

Though John Smith was the first Englishman to see Nacotchtank, none knew the village and its inhabitants better than the trader Henry Fleet. Born to wealth in Chatham, England, Fleet came to the Chesapeake in fall 1621 as part of the delegation accompanying his second cousin, newly appointed Virginia governor Sir Francis Wyatt. No more than twenty years old when he disembarked at Jamestown, Fleet hoped to make his fortune in the New World.

Initially, this looked to be an easy task. Wyatt and his delegation had traveled to Virginia to assume control of a growing colony seemingly at peace with its Native American neighbors. In 1614, the colonists won the First Powhatan War, and as part of the negotiated peace Powhatan agreed to supply the English with food and honor their claim to the prime farming land they had captured along the James River. Capitalizing on John Rolfe’s experiments with tobacco cultivation, they used this land to raise a crop of two thousand pounds in 1615. The plant fetched a high price back in England, where it had become fashionable among the royal court. Having found the colony’s cash crop, the Virginia Company imported hundreds of indentured servants, expanded cultivation, and exported forty thousand pounds in 1620. By the time Wyatt arrived, the colonists had become so focused on tobacco production that they had neglected their charge to explore the Chesapeake and convert the Native Americans to Christianity. His principal assignment was to refocus their energies.¹⁵

Wyatt never had the chance to implement his reforms. On the morning of March 22, 1622, just five months after Wyatt had arrived, Powhatan warriors casually walked onto the eighty-odd plantations scattered along the James River, asked to borrow hoes, shovels, and other tools, then proceeded to beat and hack their hosts to death. Within a matter of hours, they had killed 347 men, women, and children, fully one-fourth of the English population. Opechancanough, Powhatan’s younger brother and the mastermind behind the assault, aimed to force the English to retreat to Jamestown and pay tribute to the confederacy.¹⁶

The attack brought calls for blood from London. Concluding that the natives were hopelessly savage, Virginia Company officials abandoned their dreams of assimilating and converting the local population and instead called on colonists to destroy them who sought to destroy us.¹⁷ Wyatt and his lieutenants launched the Second Powhatan War in 1622 and spent ten years conducting harvest raids against hostile chiefdoms. They stole corn, burned villages, and left their foes hungry and exposed on the eve of winter—a practice the English had pioneered in the Nine Years’ War against the savage Irish. Ever aware of their economic interests, the governor and other plantation owners used the purloined corn to feed their indentured servants, who in turn devoted their labors to growing tobacco.¹⁸

Unlike during the First Powhatan War, Nacotchtank did not escape the violence. Scrambling for allies, the English approached the Patawomekes, an independent chiefdom that dominated the area around present-day Quantico, Virginia. The Patawomekes sought their own benefit in the hostilities, and they consented to an alliance if the English joined them in a raid on their sworne enemies, the Piscataways to the north. The English agreed, and together they set upon Nacotchtank, killing eighteen men, plundering the food stores, and burning the houses. Among the raiders that day was Henry Fleet.¹⁹

The Nacostines struck back in March 1623, when Fleet returned to Nacotchtank to barter for corn. Nacostine warriors overwhelmed the English traders, killing twenty and taking Fleet hostage. Governor Wyatt sent a military expedition against the Nacostines—he bragged that they burnt their houses & a marvelous quantity of corn—but Fleet remained in captivity until the colonists paid a ransom for his release four years later.²⁰

Ironically, Fleet’s time in Nacotchtank gave him the skills necessary to establish the English as the dominant traders on the Potomac. He became intimately familiar with the geography of the river and better proficient in the Indian language than mine own, he recalled. After his release, he and his two brothers set out to monopolize trade along the upper Potomac. In spring 1632, they scoured the area for furs, even stopping at Nacotchtank, where they came away with an impressive haul of eight hundred pelts.

Though open to trading with the Fleets, the Nacostines balked when the brothers attempted to deal directly with the tribes above Great Falls. Some years before, the Massawomacks had pushed south from above the Falls, viciously attacking the tribes of the upper Potomac. They designated the conquered Nacostines as their intermediaries who would, in Fleet’s words, convey all such English truck as commeth into this river. Determined to maintain their favored status, the Nacostines sought to withdraw me from having any commerce with the other Indians, Fleet wrote, because they knew that our trade might hinder their benefit. Undaunted, Fleet ignored his former captors, sailed up the Potomac, and sent his brother Edward several days’ journey by foot to meet the four kings of the Massawomacks. Impressed by the Fleets’ wares, the kings agreed to cut the Nacostines out of the upper Potomac beaver trade.²¹

The success of Virginia fur traders such as the Fleet brothers drew interest from enterprising investors in London, including the Jesuit Sir George Calvert, the first Lord Baltimore. Animated by the prospect of significant profits as well as a desire to save native souls, Calvert asked King Charles I for a charter for the land between the fortieth parallel and the Potomac River. Calvert died days before his request was granted, and proprietorship of the new colony, Maryland, passed to his son Cecilius. On his arrival in the Chesapeake in 1634, Cecilius Calvert hired Fleet to help him conforme . . . to the Customes of the Countrey. Fleet did this and more. He introduced Calvert to the Piscataway chief Wannas, who granted the Maryland colonists the abandoned village of Yacomoco on the St. Mary’s River, one hundred miles downstream from Nacotchtank, for settlement.²²

Though their trade networks had been disrupted and English colonists now occupied a permanent settlement on the lower Potomac, the Nacostines remained upon their land, largely undisturbed by the foreigners, save a few traders and Jesuit missionaries, for another thirty years.

To Occasion a Greater Quantity of Tobacco to Be Made: The English Supplant the Nacostines

The Nacostines’ fortunes began to shift in the 1650s, when a decline in beaver prices led Maryland colonists to turn from furs back to tobacco. Tobacco required land—lots of it. The little colony, which had not grown much beyond the immediate vicinity of St. Mary’s City in its first two decades, expanded rapidly in the 1650s and 1660s as planters moved north along the Potomac and cleared much of the arable land at the water’s edge.²³

Colonial settlement eventually reached the Nacostines. In 1663, Lord Calvert granted patents on the land at the confluence of the Potomac and the Anacostia (then called the Eastern Branch), including an 860-acre tract to nobleman Thomas Dent, who dubbed the estate Gisborough after his home village in Yorkshire. Under a treaty between the Maryland Assembly and the Piscataways three years later, Calvert created what came to be known as the Reserve. Though the agreement stipulated that the severall nacons aforesd [among them ‘Anacostanck’] shall continue upon the places where they now live, Calvert centered the Reserve on the Piscataway capital Mayone, forcing the Nacostines to abandon Nacotchtank and settle several miles to the south. A small number stayed closer to home, moving to Analostan (now Roosevelt) Island in the Potomac River. The colonial government did not resist the encampment, and remnants of this group occupied the site into the next century.²⁴

By 1670, colonists had claimed all the land in what would later become Washington, but they considered the area a dangerous frontier due to continued raiding by tribes from the north and east. Most of the landowners lived in St. Mary’s City and left their claims untouched. In the 1680s, they began sending indentured servants and enslaved people to the area to cut tobacco fields out of the forests. Life in what were called the Out Plantations was lonely and difficult. Workers lived on isolated outposts with rudimentary accommodations and suffered repeated assaults from Nacostine and Piscataway warriors unwilling to accept displacement. All lived in fear of an invasion from the north. As late as 1689, rumors of an impending Seneca assault caused planter John Addison to dash off a letter to the sheriff of Charles County requesting arms, being these parts is soe very naked and lives at soe great a distance.²⁵

Addison was the first European of rank to make his home on Nacostine territory. A sailor and owner of a trading company, Addison settled in Maryland in 1677. Following his marriage to the wealthy widow Rebecca Dent, he purchased the upper half of the Gisborough tract, which covered much of the river plain on which Nacotchtank once stood. By 1688, he had built a handsome brick house on a point jutting out into the river, not far from the rotting remains of the Nacostines’ old palisade.²⁶

In the following decade, Addison and the colonists of the Out Plantations secured the frontier. In 1692, the Maryland Assembly commissioned forts along the colony’s northern border and the movement of white soldiers between them. Addison directed the construction of the Charles County fort on the Potomac at Little Falls and subsequently received orders to Raise five Men & a Captain to Range from the flails of Potomock to the falls of Petuxant or in other places where it shall be Needfull to make quest after all skulking Indians.²⁷ Addison and his Rangers patrolled the area, helping clear the way for English settlement north to present-day Bladensburg, Maryland.

Having gained the upper hand along the frontier, the colonists turned on the remaining Piscataways and Nacostines in their midst. They wanted native land to, as Governor Francis Nicholson put it, occasion a greater quantity of Tobacco to be made. The assembly responded by carving Prince George’s County out of upper Charles County, appointing Addison colonel in command of the county militia, and empowering him to hear and determine all Personall differences that may happen or arise between the Indians & English.²⁸ Many of these Personall differences turned violent, as the Nacostines and Piscataways resisted this latest English incursion on their land and autonomy.²⁹

Addison responded sternly to native assaults on colonists. A 1697 attack on one of James Stoddert’s slaves drew such a threatening rejoinder that the Piscataways and the Nacostines temporarily fled the Reserve for the hills of northern Virginia. They returned, only to leave permanently in 1701 after accepting an offer from the Pennsylvania governor to settle a reservation on the lower Susquehanna River. In subsequent years they continued to move north and west, fleeing the forward line of European settlement and melding with other Native American groups until, in the late eighteenth century, they disappeared from the historical record.³⁰

Back at the confluence of the Potomac and the Eastern Branch, Addison and his fellow colonists created a plantation society ruled by a landed aristocracy. By 1708, Prince George’s County boasted well more than four hundred English households. Thomas Addison, who succeeded his father as colonel of the county militia, deemed the area secure enough to disband the Rangers. In the coming decades, the wealthier among these colonists turned increasingly to enslaved Africans and greatly reduced the supply of indentured servants who had served as the base of the colony’s white population.³¹

In both Maryland and Virginia, the first towns on the upper Potomac were extensions of the plantations. By 1730, enslaved workers were producing so much tobacco that the Virginia colony established the Hunting Creek Warehouse on the western bank of the Potomac to gather the crop for shipment downriver. The settlement was incorporated as the town of Alexandria in 1749. Four years earlier, Maryland planter George Gordon established a tobacco inspection station at the place where a rolling road that stretched north to the farms of the interior met the Potomac. The area around the warehouse became George Town in 1751, though the Maryland legislature did not issue a charter until 1789.³²

The landed families of the region, including the Dents, Addisons, Youngs, and Bealls, used the wealth from their plantations to dominate the region’s elected offices. Their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren would intermarry, inherit land, assume offices, and monopolize northern Virginia and southern Maryland politics for the next century. Indeed, Addison’s great-grandson, Maryland governor George Plater, signed the act of cession that deeded the territory on the Maryland side of the Potomac to the federal government for a capital city in 1791.³³

The cumulative effects of war, disease, and subjugation decimated the Native Americans of the upper Potomac. Thousands lived in the river valley in 1608, but by 1708, just a few hundred remained—beaten, scattered, and subject to the Crown. Contact itself initially brought little change to Nacotchtank, with few Europeans visiting the village before the 1620s. With the start of the Second Powhatan War, however, the Nacostines were drawn into the violent rhythm of raid and counterraid that characterized native-white relations. The English emerged from the hostilities strengthened and eager to expand while most Native Americans, including the Nacostines, were greatly weakened. During the next thirty years, they were cut out of the valuable trade networks of the upper Potomac and made subject to the Maryland colony.

By the 1660s, the Nacostines, their numbers depleted and their trade networks disrupted, moved first south and then north and west, scrambling to distance themselves from European settlement. On their abandoned lands, the colonists created a plantation society. The few Native Americans who remained watched in anguish as their hunting grounds and corn fields were transformed by European indentured servants and enslaved Africans into tobacco farms; their trade routes made links in a transatlantic commerce joining the Chesapeake to New England and beyond to Europe. The area that would become the nation’s capital, like the colonies that stretched north and south along the Atlantic seaboard, was cleared through wars of conquest and settled with coerced labor on stolen land.

When Andrew Ellicott began his survey of the ten-mile square that would become the nation’s capital in 1790, the Nacostines were long gone and Nacotchtank was a distant memory—so much so, in fact, that when Thomas Jefferson inquired about the name of the Native Americans who lived along the Eastern Branch, no one could remember. Native American artifacts littered the ground on the sites of the old villages for a century after the founding of the District, but these were later gathered by Smithsonian archaeologists and amateur collectors. In the early twentieth century, the site of Nacotchtank was buried in landfill to make way for a military airstrip that became part of Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling. Today, the only remaining trace of the Nacostines is the river that bears the Latinized version of their name: Anacostia.³⁴

TWO

Of Slaving Blacks and Democratic Whites

Building a Capital of Slavery and Freedom, 1790–1815

E’en here, beside the proud Potowmac’s stream . . .

Who can, with patience, for a moment see,

The Medley mass of pride and misery,

Of whips and charters, manacles and rights

Of slaving blacks and democratic whites . . .

Away, away—I’d rather hold my neck

By doubtful tenure from a sultan’s beck,

In climes, where liberty has scarce been named,

Nor any right but that of ruling claim’d,

Than thus to live, where bastard freedom waves

Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.

—THOMAS MOORE, From the City of Washington, 1808

At the southern end of the L’Enfant Promenade in Southwest Washington sits Benjamin Banneker Park, a circular expanse featuring a granite fountain and an appealing overlook of the Potomac River and wharf. Developed in the late 1960s and renamed in honor of Banneker in 1971, it was the first federal park to be named for a black person, celebrating the prominent African American astronomer who helped survey early Washington. Envisioned as part of an effort to create a vibrant waterfront connected to the National Mall, the park now is a relatively inaccessible oasis amid concrete clutter. Like much of the history of early Washington, it is easily overlooked and underappreciated.¹

Misinformed tour guides claim with a laugh that Washington was built on a swamp, a dismissive description that defies the geography of the place. In the late 1700s, before the city existed, the land where Banneker Park sits was coveted farmland, prime plantation country with rolling hills and gushing streams that flowed into the teeming Potomac. Barely one hundred feet from Banneker’s fountain stood Notley Young’s mansion, the heart of an eight-hundred-acre plantation that stretched for almost two miles along the Potomac to where it met the Eastern Branch, covering much of Southwest D.C.

Built about 1756, the Young mansion was perched on a raised riverbank two hundred feet from the shore, offering panoramic views from the pillared back porch. Visitors arrived via a tree-lined entrance leading to a stunning two-story brick structure that featured more than a dozen rooms and four impressive chimneys, punctuating each corner of the roof. It was not inferior to the palaces of some European princes, remarked Irish visitor John O’Connor in 1788. Adjacent to the mansion stood a small chapel where Young, a descendant of one of Maryland’s leading Catholic families, could host Mass without leaving the premises and violating the state ban on public Catholic worship.²

Notley Young’s wealth and prominence could be measured by—and indeed derived in large part from—his status as a slave owner, one of a handful of slaveholders in Maryland who owned more than 100 slaves. Young enslaved 265 people by the time George Washington selected a ten-mile-square area centered on his plantation for the new seat of the national government. Although a handful of Young’s enslaved workers lived in the manor house, the rest stayed in wooden huts downriver. They worked the tobacco and corn fields that stretched from the riverbank hundreds of yards inland. Their labors gave Young and his descendants the wealth and time to become prominent public figures, first in Maryland and later in the budding city of Washington, where Young’s son-in-law Robert Brent served as the first mayor.³

The area that became Washington was not a tabula rasa, not an uninhabited, swampy wilderness. It was a fully functioning slave society, a land dotted with tobacco plantations owned by powerful slaveholding families. Slavery and the aristocratic political lifestyle that accompanied it defined life in the fields of southern Maryland and northern Virginia that became the national seat of government. The city that grew atop those fields incorporated slavery into every aspect of life.

Indeed, from its inception Washington embodied the contradiction endemic to America itself, the paradoxical juxtaposition of freedom and slavery that bedeviled the nation and ultimately led to the Civil War. Washington was at once the capital of the world’s first republic in more than a millennium—and a city where slave labor was integral to economic life. It was a symbol of an aspiring democratic nation—and evidence of the racial limits of American democracy. It was a citadel of liberty—and a center of slavery and the slave trade. Few observers could miss the enslaved people in the nation’s capital. They worked on public construction projects, they were bought and sold within sight of the Capitol, they drove the hacks that crisscrossed the city, they waited on the men who ran the nation. Early Washington was a Southern city that was immersed in slavery and benefited immensely from it.

Another contradiction embedded into the fabric of the city harked back to the American Revolution. Self-government died early in the District. Not even a generation after Americans went to war to protest taxation without representation, Congress stripped Washingtonians of democracy’s basic unit of currency: the right to vote. Though citizen protests forced Congress to include a modified form of home rule, even elite Washingtonians lacked basic voting rights. The city became a political colony, a district whose fate rested not with the local people who called it home but with the national political leaders who resided there temporarily. Never just a city, Washington became a staging ground for national political battles as free black people, white elites, European immigrants, enslaved people, and national political leaders struggled to determine what freedom and democracy would mean in the new capital.

To Sweeten It a Little: The South Wins the Capital

The three men already were legends in revolutionary America when they sat down for dinner in June 1790. One had penned the words that would come to define America and inspire freedom movements worldwide—We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. Another had provided the intellectual framework for the U.S. Constitution, while the third man at the table was in the process of laying the foundation for the nation’s economic system. Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and Alexander Hamilton had helped to shape many of the fledgling nation’s institutions, and over dinner at Jefferson’s home in Manhattan they would add one more: the nation’s capital. Before dessert was served, these three would come to a momentous agreement on where the permanent capital would be located, a compromise that would have fateful consequences for the future District of Columbia.

The dinner had been Jefferson’s idea. He saw it as a way to resolve two intertwined debates that dominated the first Congress to convene after the Constitution was ratified in 1788. These debates—one over the financial power of the federal government and the other over where the federal government would be located—not only revealed the depth of the differences between the North and the South but also set the course of D.C. history by ensuring that the capital would be founded as a slave city.

The day before the dinner, Secretary of State Jefferson had been heading to a meeting with President Washington when he ran into an agitated Alexander Hamilton. A war hero now serving as secretary of the Treasury, Hamilton animatedly told Jefferson that he was growing increasingly alarmed by the nation’s economic crisis, which had paralyzed Congress and threatened to rip the country apart. Not even a decade after the Revolutionary War ended in 1783, America’s debt, largely incurred while fighting the war, was spiraling out of control. If the country failed to pay its debt, Hamilton feared, it could be shut off from world markets as foreign governments and individual investors, worried that their loans would never be paid back, simply refused to work with or invest in the United States. The young economy would be crippled, perhaps permanently so.⁴

To avoid default, Hamilton proposed a series of financial reforms that included assumption—having the federal government assume all state debts and commit itself to paying their full value. He hoped to turn the economic liability of debts into a political asset: national unity and the strengthening of the federal government. But many members of Congress, particularly from Jefferson’s native South, vociferously objected to assumption, in part because many of the Southern states had already paid off their debts.⁵

Generally supported by the commerce-oriented North and opposed by the agricultural South, the assumption debate highlighted contrasting visions of the role of the federal government. To Hamilton and his allies, including President Washington, a dynamic trading nation required strong, centralized financial institutions and a federal government that could wield powers not specifically spelled out in the Constitution. Hamilton’s opponents generally viewed such centralization as suspect, fearing an overreach of federal power and rejecting Hamilton’s insistence that the Constitution’s necessary and proper clause allowed fiscal measures of such huge scope. They believed that the federal government could wield only those powers indispensable to its existence.⁶

The issue was explosive, producing what Jefferson called the most bitter and angry contests ever known in Congress.⁷ Opponents of assumption threatened secession, and they had enough votes to block the measure. Hamilton knew that Jefferson had substantial credibility among the Southern opponents of assumption, and as he and Jefferson paced in front of the president’s house, he implored the Virginian to help break the impasse. Jefferson suggested a dinner with Madison, envisioning a compromise that involved the other major political stalemate that had paralyzed Congress: where to place the national seat of government.

At least since 1783, when a band of Continental Army veterans held a raucous protest outside the Pennsylvania State House where the Congress of the Confederation was meeting, many of the nation’s leaders had argued that the national seat of government should be directly under the federal government’s control. The Confederation Congress had not been the target of the protest—the veterans sought back pay from the Pennsylvania Executive Council—but political leaders such as Hamilton and Madison used the incident to generate fears that the national government could be held hostage to state interests unless it had full control of its capital. Having an independent seat of government separate from existing states, they believed, would strengthen the national government and insulate it from state pressure.⁸

By 1787, this idea had become commonplace among the men who met for the Constitutional Convention. They wrote it into Article I, Section 8 of the Constitution, which authorized Congress to exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, and the acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the United States. From