Part 4
I consulted a much older cousin, my father’s contemporary, about the validity of the claims within this ‘Grandfather Gilbert’ narrative.
Who’d written this? And who was Oliver Cromwell Gilbert?
That cousin, Bertha Gilbert Jones, explained that Cousin Julia had been somewhat eccentric, musically talented, and also quite precise in her work, and had, indeed, drafted multiple versions of an essay on the life of her grandfather, Oliver, who’d been enslaved by the Warfields of Maryland, which was also, Bertha continued, the family of Bessie Wallis Warfield, Duchess of Windsor, American Socialite and wife of the former King Edward VIII. When King Edward VIII and Wallis had fallen in love, he’d wanted to marry, but she was already twice divorced, rendering her socially and politically unacceptable as a prospective British queen. Edward, therefore, renounced his throne on December 10, 1936, and his brother, King George VI, assumed the throne the following day. King George was the father of Queen Elizabeth. This shift in the British monarchy originated with Wallis Warfield, our cousin from slavery, and King Edward’s love for her.
This sounded like a real rabbit hole, and some serious T/tea.
Bertha expressed that it had been accepted within the family that we were genetically related to the Warfields, and when ‘Wallis’ had appeared on television mourning the death of her husband, the former King of England, the then-aged grandchildren of Oliver Gilbert were huddled to watch, invested in the story due to their knowledge of this admittedly vague relationship. When ‘Wallis’ sobbed that she had no one left in this world, it was my grand aunt who stood, opened her arms in a thespian display and exclaimed ‘but you have US! We are your family’.
Having heard many stories about my great grandmother and also being the keeper of a collection of her letters and notebooks/journals, I can attest that the above referenced display by her children was sarcastic. Oliver’s son Stanley is my great grandfather. He and my great grandmother had 12 children, not all of whom survived to adulthood.
Thoughts drifted to the silk keepsake box and the possibility of locating the secret recipe for Aunt Jane’s delicious oyster stuffing. The lives of The Royals are only tangentially interesting to me.
Bertha also shared that Oliver Gilbert had been gifted to his enslaver as a wedding present. I don’t believe this is the case. He was ‘given’ to his original enslaver’s son, Dr. William Washington Watkins, upon the death of the Colonel. That said, Oliver’s sister, Betty, HAD been gifted to Margaret Watkins when Margaret’s father, Colonel Gassaway Watkins, died. Two years later, Margaret married Albert Gallatin Warfield, and relocated to the Oakdale mansion, taking 10-year-old Betty with her. Albert and Margaret were parents of Governor Edwin Warfield. Betty had served as his nurse.
At this time, in 2009, another cousin, Danielle, and I were taking turns hosting a monthly family dinner series. We were at Danielle’s home enjoying Mexican delicacies when the subject of genealogy arose. I lamented “I’ve reached the point where I’ve hit slavery. I expect this is the end of the line on my research.”
Later that evening, Danielle’s husband, Steve, sent a link to me on Facebook. There it was, the very same SeacoastNH.com article which had inspired Ethel Hawkins to call Jody Fernald.
Connecting with the journalist who’d written the article, he’d explained that he knew nothing about Oliver Gilbert, a subject of the lecture, but he’d put me in touch with Jody, which he did.
The skeptic in me took over. How could it be possible that we have a family member worth lecturing about and publishing about and this subject hadn’t arisen at any of the hundreds of family discussions over the years. My dad was a relentless family historian. I can tell you stories about the inherited art, furnishings, how grandpop lost a thumb, how grandmom’s dad died after being kicked by a horse, how….and how…..and how. And nobody thought to mention a formerly enslaved ancestor. I’d never even heard his name prior to finding the keepsake box.
Jody Fernald and I compared notes and determined that we both were researching the same Oliver Gilbert.
Cancel ALL my meetings for the day! I needed to sit and settle on this; And call the family.
Jody shared that an ‘antiques dealer’ named Ethel Hawkins in Philadelphia held the Gilbert Family Papers and asked if I knew of her. I disputed the likelihood of this, as no Gilbert has ever mentioned having a collection of family papers. “We’re just normal people”, I explained. “We don’t have a collection of papers, other than an abundant hodgepodge of material stored in boxes in no certain order”. As each Gilbert ancestor passes, the hodgepodge collections go here and there and get merged in with other hodgepodge collections. Luckily, I’ve inherited much of it over the years. There was nothing about slavery. Nothing.
Jody put me in touch with Ethel, who was initially skeptical that this was just another attempt by Jody and the historians in New Hampshire to secure to autobiography. After many lengthy discussions and a serious game of ‘The Philadelphia Negro’ (Du Bois) Philadelphia geography, and other random proof-points, I’d sufficiently proven no prior connection to the University crew. Ethel shared more about the collection but made it clear that she had no intent on allowing me direct access to it, despite my offer to purchase at the price she was free to set.
Ether shared her plans for the museum. I hoped she knew what she was doing.
And how the heck did his autobiography leave the family?
Via a trash bag. Ethel was clear.
I swiveled back to Cousin Bertha with questions: Why hadn’t this story been told within the family? The family is so proud of our history, accomplishments and notables. We talk about Amelia Earhart being our cousin, and that great-great grandfather John Henry, a surgeon in the Civil War, helped train the black doctors who were the forerunners to Douglass Hospital.
We’d always known that we were a musical family, trained in the classics; Cousin Julia used to give concerts in the parlor of her home. Jane was hailed as a child prodigy with her violin, performing with the Philadelphia orchestra by the age of 15. William O. Gilbert, Sr had founded the Soap Box Minstrels ‘The Soaps”, performing across multiple states and hosting lavish affairs in Philadelphia’s concert halls. Ida and Evalina, Oliver’s daughters, served as the musical accompaniment to Paul Laurence Dunbar when he first debuted his poetry. Stanley was performing in operas and was choirmaster at St Thomas PE Church.
Yet, none of us had understood the origin of the musical talent. We’d completely missed that it had originated in slavery and that the entirety of the wellspring of music had come from a single ancestor, a widely reputed musician and music teacher, Oliver ‘O.C.’ Gilbert.
Bertha, living in the leafy and historic Mt Airy section of Philadelphia invited me over. She said we needed to visit her older sister, Barbara, who lives around the corner from her, and who knows everything. There were things about the legacy of slavery I needed to hear and understand. Whatever there was to know, Barbara would know. Off we went, to Barbara’s and into the way-back machine.
