passengers boarding the Philadelphia, Wilmington,

and Baltimore Railroad coaches struggled to drag their luggage

through the narrow passageways, puffing clouds of white breath

in the chilly air. Screams of excitement came from a gaggle

of children chasing one another around the piles of chests and

satchels.

The chill in Washington City was unexpected, since it was, in

fact, the exact day of the vernal equinox. Winter was supposed to

be finished, yet it lingered. Edwin Blair, however, anticipated the

chill. Having done the research, he gave it little notice.

Aside from surveying the antics of the overly rambunctious

children, Blair also carefully observed a tall, gangly man with

unruly black hair who looked to be about his age, signaling for

help. No sooner had the man arched his brow, accompanied by

a sweeping gesture toward several well-worn bags, than two of

the non-company black men scattered about the platform leapt

into action. How am I going to refer to them? Blair tried not to

panic. I’m not going to use the slavers’ term! ‘African-American’won’t work.

He tried to reorient his thinking and adjust his speechpatterns to the time. There was that 1844 newspaper article about

a “colored” man stopping the runaway carriage of President

Edwin Blair, sporting a newly grown blonde, well-trimmed

beard, and carrying nothing but a shiny metallic valise that he

held closely by his right side, boarded several moments after the

tall traveler, catching the eye of virtually everyone he passed.

The perfectly polished surface of the valise seemed more like

mirrored glass than metal, and his black leather jacket flapped

opened in the cool breeze, revealing a black cable-knit pullover

sweater. This, together with his dark blue denim trousers, his

shoes made of indeterminate material, and his gleaming valise,

were the source of near universal curiosity. Several of the young

children skipping along beside him pointed and laughed. Their

3

Robert Pielke

parents offered barely-hushed admonitions: “Behave yourselves!

You know you mustn’t stare at strangers. It simply is not polite.”

Yet they, to a person, failed to follow their own advice.

Blair held nothing in his left hand, yet he clenched it so tight

that his nails dug into his flesh, his teeth clenched every bit as

tight as his hand. No one mentioned the word “LEVI’S” burnt

into a small leather patch on the back of his trousers, but several

men did wonder aloud about the word “NIKE” on the side of his

black and white shoes.