Reverend John Rankin lived in Ripley, OH, at the top of a steep hill overlooking the river. Over his lifetime, he helped thousands of runaway slaves on their journey North to Canada. Rankin preached against slavery, wrote books about the abolitionist cause, and endured hardships because of his stance.
Rankin employed his entire family in the Underground Railroad. His wife made food and clothing for the people who made it to their doorstep. And his children, particularly his boys, helped in the efforts, too. They helped the slaves hide. They transported them to the next station in the Underground Railroad. They risked their lives almost nightly in a family effort to help runaway slaves.
The oldest of John Rankin's sons was Adam Lowry. As a young man Lowry had been intricately involved with his father's cause, but it was never LOWRY'S cause. Though Rev. Rankin wanted very much for Lowry to follow him into the ministry and the cause of abolitionism, Lowry wanted to be a carpenter. At 17 years old, he took an apprenticeship with William McNish, a carpenter and architect in Ripley. Lowry studied architectural drafting, and worked on the architecture and building of steamboats.
In December 1835, when Lowry was 18 years old, he experienced what I call his "conversion to abolitionism." The largest steamboat in the nation, the Uncle Sam, was docked at Ripley wharf. Lowry and his co-workers were eager to tour the magnificent boat. While he was on-board inspecting the boat, this transpired. In Lowry's words:
I saw two long chains, extending from the forward to the rear of each side of the steerage deck. The ends were bolted to the sides of the boat about four feet above the deck floor. To these chains, at about equal distances apart, were attached twenty-five shorter chains with a handcuff attached to the loose end. The handcuff was locked on the wrists of the right arm of each slave. The short chain was just long enough to enable the slave to sit or lie down on the deck, and in weight and size was that of the ordinary chain used in plowing with horses. No seat or bed was provided; they were compelled to use the deck floor. When I came on the scene some were sitting as best they could on the floor, others were lying down and some were standing. It was an unpleasant picture.
The men were of sullen countenance and the women appeared to be stricken with a hopeless grief. Farther from them at my right at the extreme end of the long chain was a woman, young, not more than twenty. She had a pretty face, it might with propriety be called beautiful. She had long, fine, wavy, shiny black hair put up with care and taste and she was as white as any woman of my acquaintance, requiring the closest scrutiny to detect the least touch of African blood.
I said to myself, "Can it be possible that she is a slave, bound for a Southern slave mart to stand on the auction block and be knocked down by some brutal auctioneer to the highest bidder. Yes, that handcuff and chain proclaim that she is a slave, a young woman, beautiful in feature and form that has no more rights of person and soul than the beasts of the field."
As I leaned against a stanchion for support I asked myself why let all my sympathies be expended upon that one woman. Were the women, her companions in slavery, though they be of a darker hue than she, any less the daughters of the Lord Almight? Were they not as well as their white sisters the objects of Christ's redeeming love? For a time all I had forgotten of Theodore Weld's descriptions a few weeks before of the horrors of American slavery came vividly to my mind as I looked at the picture before me. Yet I might have gone away with my dislike of slavery a little more intensified and nothing more had I not caught a fragment of a conversation between two men who were approaching.
The words I heard were, "Ain't she a beauty?" The men passed by me, scarcely noting my presence, and stopped in front of the woman I have just described. One of the men was coarse and hard featured. He carried in his hand a small rawhide cane that could be used in the place of a common "rawhide." He was the owner of the slave and had the usual characteristics of the "negro trader," fond of whisky, rough, profane and unchaste in conversation, brutal, and passionate in disposition. They were a class of men that were a product of slavery, dreaded by the slaves and despised by the slaveholders. ... The other was a tall, well-dressed young man, not bad in feature, passably good looking, with a little outcropping of the sensual. Under proper influences he might be an honorable, moral man who would command the respect of the good. I gathered from the conversation that he was a single man, engaged in some business in New Orleans, and the son of a Southern planter. his conversation was free of profanity and obscenity. As far as the circumstances would admit I inferred from the first part of the conversation that he had some conscience about the propriety of the business in hand, the purchase of the woman.
I decided not to leave my post but to watch the transaction. The trader used the vilest language, proposing the woman as a mistress for the young man and insisting she was worth more than he asked, $2,500, and swearing he could get $3,000 for her in New Orleans. He knew young men, he said, who would jump to get such a well made and good looking woman as she was.
All the time she had her face covered with her hands and was crying as if her heart would break. The other women were crying also and more than one man muttered curses and I saw clenched fists and angry eyes, all showing how helpless they felt to protect the women. As the trader, with an oath, said, "No more of that, you black sons of -------," he struck the woman on the shoulder and ordered her to take her hands from her face and stop crying or he would half-kill her. She obeyed, and after a little more talk the young man offered $2,000. This was rejected at this stage of the proceedings and the trader played what might be called the last card in this game of debauchery.
He asked the young man if he was the only occupant of his stateroom, receiving an affirmative reply. He then said, "How fortunate. You have to go to your room by the door that opens on the deck and no one will be the wiser and you can have a splendid time. It will cost you nothing. I have paid her passage and bond."
The young man was evidently tempted but shook his head. The trader then ordered the woman to unfasten the front of her dress. She declined, but a stroke on the shoulder brought a reluctant obedience, a second expedited the work. When done, her hands lingered, but pushing them away he exposed her bosom to view and induced the young man to feel of her breast, then of her thighs. By this time the young man was carried to the point of yielding and the money paid, the woman relieved of her chain, followed her new master to his room.
As I left the boat my indignation reached the boiling point over the wicked transaction and, lifting my right hand toward the heavens, I said aloud, "My God helping me, there shall be a perpetual war between me and human slavery in this nation of which I am a member and I pray God I may never be persuaded to give up the fight until slavery is dead or the Lord calls me home.
By the next morning he had decided to go back to college and become a minister, dedicating his life to the cause of ending slavery. After the apprenticeship was over, he went to college in Cincinnati. During his years of schooling there, he would go to school during the day, and many nights would be up all night assisting runaway slaves. When reading his story, I often thought, "How did he do it?"
Rankin employed his entire family in the Underground Railroad. His wife made food and clothing for the people who made it to their doorstep. And his children, particularly his boys, helped in the efforts, too. They helped the slaves hide. They transported them to the next station in the Underground Railroad. They risked their lives almost nightly in a family effort to help runaway slaves.
The oldest of John Rankin's sons was Adam Lowry. As a young man Lowry had been intricately involved with his father's cause, but it was never LOWRY'S cause. Though Rev. Rankin wanted very much for Lowry to follow him into the ministry and the cause of abolitionism, Lowry wanted to be a carpenter. At 17 years old, he took an apprenticeship with William McNish, a carpenter and architect in Ripley. Lowry studied architectural drafting, and worked on the architecture and building of steamboats.
In December 1835, when Lowry was 18 years old, he experienced what I call his "conversion to abolitionism." The largest steamboat in the nation, the Uncle Sam, was docked at Ripley wharf. Lowry and his co-workers were eager to tour the magnificent boat. While he was on-board inspecting the boat, this transpired. In Lowry's words:
I saw two long chains, extending from the forward to the rear of each side of the steerage deck. The ends were bolted to the sides of the boat about four feet above the deck floor. To these chains, at about equal distances apart, were attached twenty-five shorter chains with a handcuff attached to the loose end. The handcuff was locked on the wrists of the right arm of each slave. The short chain was just long enough to enable the slave to sit or lie down on the deck, and in weight and size was that of the ordinary chain used in plowing with horses. No seat or bed was provided; they were compelled to use the deck floor. When I came on the scene some were sitting as best they could on the floor, others were lying down and some were standing. It was an unpleasant picture.
The men were of sullen countenance and the women appeared to be stricken with a hopeless grief. Farther from them at my right at the extreme end of the long chain was a woman, young, not more than twenty. She had a pretty face, it might with propriety be called beautiful. She had long, fine, wavy, shiny black hair put up with care and taste and she was as white as any woman of my acquaintance, requiring the closest scrutiny to detect the least touch of African blood.
I said to myself, "Can it be possible that she is a slave, bound for a Southern slave mart to stand on the auction block and be knocked down by some brutal auctioneer to the highest bidder. Yes, that handcuff and chain proclaim that she is a slave, a young woman, beautiful in feature and form that has no more rights of person and soul than the beasts of the field."
As I leaned against a stanchion for support I asked myself why let all my sympathies be expended upon that one woman. Were the women, her companions in slavery, though they be of a darker hue than she, any less the daughters of the Lord Almight? Were they not as well as their white sisters the objects of Christ's redeeming love? For a time all I had forgotten of Theodore Weld's descriptions a few weeks before of the horrors of American slavery came vividly to my mind as I looked at the picture before me. Yet I might have gone away with my dislike of slavery a little more intensified and nothing more had I not caught a fragment of a conversation between two men who were approaching.
The words I heard were, "Ain't she a beauty?" The men passed by me, scarcely noting my presence, and stopped in front of the woman I have just described. One of the men was coarse and hard featured. He carried in his hand a small rawhide cane that could be used in the place of a common "rawhide." He was the owner of the slave and had the usual characteristics of the "negro trader," fond of whisky, rough, profane and unchaste in conversation, brutal, and passionate in disposition. They were a class of men that were a product of slavery, dreaded by the slaves and despised by the slaveholders. ... The other was a tall, well-dressed young man, not bad in feature, passably good looking, with a little outcropping of the sensual. Under proper influences he might be an honorable, moral man who would command the respect of the good. I gathered from the conversation that he was a single man, engaged in some business in New Orleans, and the son of a Southern planter. his conversation was free of profanity and obscenity. As far as the circumstances would admit I inferred from the first part of the conversation that he had some conscience about the propriety of the business in hand, the purchase of the woman.
I decided not to leave my post but to watch the transaction. The trader used the vilest language, proposing the woman as a mistress for the young man and insisting she was worth more than he asked, $2,500, and swearing he could get $3,000 for her in New Orleans. He knew young men, he said, who would jump to get such a well made and good looking woman as she was.
All the time she had her face covered with her hands and was crying as if her heart would break. The other women were crying also and more than one man muttered curses and I saw clenched fists and angry eyes, all showing how helpless they felt to protect the women. As the trader, with an oath, said, "No more of that, you black sons of -------," he struck the woman on the shoulder and ordered her to take her hands from her face and stop crying or he would half-kill her. She obeyed, and after a little more talk the young man offered $2,000. This was rejected at this stage of the proceedings and the trader played what might be called the last card in this game of debauchery.
He asked the young man if he was the only occupant of his stateroom, receiving an affirmative reply. He then said, "How fortunate. You have to go to your room by the door that opens on the deck and no one will be the wiser and you can have a splendid time. It will cost you nothing. I have paid her passage and bond."
The young man was evidently tempted but shook his head. The trader then ordered the woman to unfasten the front of her dress. She declined, but a stroke on the shoulder brought a reluctant obedience, a second expedited the work. When done, her hands lingered, but pushing them away he exposed her bosom to view and induced the young man to feel of her breast, then of her thighs. By this time the young man was carried to the point of yielding and the money paid, the woman relieved of her chain, followed her new master to his room.
As I left the boat my indignation reached the boiling point over the wicked transaction and, lifting my right hand toward the heavens, I said aloud, "My God helping me, there shall be a perpetual war between me and human slavery in this nation of which I am a member and I pray God I may never be persuaded to give up the fight until slavery is dead or the Lord calls me home.
By the next morning he had decided to go back to college and become a minister, dedicating his life to the cause of ending slavery. After the apprenticeship was over, he went to college in Cincinnati. During his years of schooling there, he would go to school during the day, and many nights would be up all night assisting runaway slaves. When reading his story, I often thought, "How did he do it?"
A picture of Adam Lowry Rankin, scanned from Beyond the River by Ann Hagedorn.A link to Adam Lowry Rankin's account of the Rankin's dealing in abolitionism. It's lengthy, and includes what I put above:
http://publications.ohiohistory.org/ohstemplate.cfm?action=detail&Page=007918.html&StartPage=18&EndPage=55&volume=79&newtitle=Volume%2079%20Page%2018
We didn't realize that the Rankin house would cost money (we should have, of course), and Rob didn't bring his wallet. So we turned around and walked back down the stairs. We would have had to do that anyways, to get back to our car. But it was a bit disappointing. ... My calves were burning before getting down the wooden part of the staircase. We had to stop a lot. It's a huge hill. We drove back up to the Rankin house, paid our $3 a piece and took a look around the house. It was a pretty small house and the Rankins had like 13 kids in there! Craziness. 
