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By JESSE WASHINGTON, AP National Writer Jesse Washington, Ap National Writer
Mon Feb 21, 8:58 am ET
George Washington's name is inseparable from America, and not only from the
nation's history. It identifies countless streets, buildings, mountains,
bridges, monuments, cities and people.
In a puzzling twist, most of these people are black. The 2000 U.S. Census
counted 163,036 people with the surname Washington. Ninety percent of them were
African-American, a far higher black percentage than for any other common name.
The story of how Washington became the "blackest name" begins with slavery and
takes a sharp turn after the Civil War, when all blacks were allowed the
dignity of a surname.
Even before Emancipation, many enslaved black people chose their own surnames
to establish their identities. Afterward, some historians theorize, large
numbers of blacks chose the name Washington in the process of asserting their
freedom.
Today there are black Washingtons, like this writer, who are often identified
as African-American by people they have never met. There are white Washingtons
who are sometimes misidentified and have felt discrimination. There are
Washingtons of both races who view the name as a special if complicated
gift.
And there remains the presence of George, born 279 years ago on Feb. 22, whose
complex relationship with slavery echoes in the blackness of his name today.
___
George Washington's great-grandfather, John, arrived in Virginia from England
in 1656. John married the daughter of a wealthy man and eventually owned more
than 5,000 acres, according to the new biography "Washington: A Life," by Ron
Chernow.
Along with land, George inherited 10 human beings from his father. He gained
more through his marriage to a wealthy widow, and purchased still more enslaved
blacks to work the lands he aggressively amassed. But over the decades, as he
recognized slavery's contradiction with the freedoms of the new nation,
Washington grew opposed to human bondage.
Yet "slaves were the basis of his fortune," and he would not part with them,
Chernow said in an interview.
Washington was not a harsh slaveowner by the standards of the time. He provided
good food and medical care. He recognized marriages and refused to sell off
individual family members. Later in life he resolved not to purchase any more
black people.
But he also worked his slaves quite hard, and under difficult conditions. As
president, he shuttled them between his Philadelphia residence and Virginia
estate to evade a law that freed any slave residing in Pennsylvania for six
months.
While in Philadelphia, Oney Judge, Martha Washington's maid, moved about the
city and met many free blacks. Upon learning Martha was planning one day to
give her to an ill-tempered granddaughter, Judge disappeared.
According to Chernow's book, Washington abused his presidential powers and
asked the Treasury Department to kidnap Judge from her new life in New
Hampshire. The plot was unsuccessful.
"Washington was leading this schizoid life," Chernow said in the interview. "In
theory and on paper he was opposed to slavery, but he was still zealously
tracking and seeking to recover his slaves who escaped."
In his final years on his Mount Vernon plantation, Washington said that
"nothing but the rooting out of slavery can perpetuate the existence of our
union."
This led to extraordinary instructions in his will that all 124 of his slaves
should be freed after the death of his wife. The only exception was the slave
who was at his side for the entire Revolutionary War, who was freed
immediately. Washington also ordered that the younger black people be educated
or taught a trade, and he provided a fund to care for the sick or aged.
"This is a man who travels an immense distance," Chernow said.
In contrast with other Founding Fathers, Chernow said, Washington's will
indicates "that he did have a vision of a future biracial society."
Twelve American presidents were slaveowners. Of the eight presidents who owned
slaves while in office, Washington is the only one who set all of them free.___
It's a myth that most enslaved blacks bore the last name of their owner. Only a
handful of George Washington's hundreds of slaves did, for example, and he
recorded most as having just a first name, says Mary Thompson, the historian at
Mount Vernon.
Still, historian Henry Wiencek says many enslaved blacks had surnames that went
unrecorded or were kept secret. Some chose names as a mark of community
identity, he says, and that community could be the plantation of a current or
recent owner.
"Keep in mind that after the Civil War, many of the big planters continued to
be extremely powerful figures in their regions, so there was an advantage for a
freed person to keep a link to a leading white family," says Wiencek, author of
"An Imperfect God: George Washington, His Slaves, and the Creation of America."
Sometimes blacks used the surname of the owner of their oldest known ancestor
as a way to maintain their identity. Melvin Patrick Ely, a College of William
and Mary professor who studies the history of blacks in the South, says some
West African cultures placed high value on ancestral villages, and the American
equivalent was the plantation where one's ancestors had toiled.
Last names also could have been plucked out of thin air. Booker T. Washington,
one of the most famous blacks of the post-slavery period, apparently had two of
those.
He was a boy when Emancipation freed him from a Virginia plantation. After
enrolling in school, he noticed other children had last names, while the only
thing he had ever been called was Booker.
"So, when the teacher asked me what my full name was, I calmly told him,
`Booker Washington,'" he wrote in his autobiography, "Up from Slavery." Later
in life, he found out that his mother had named him "Booker Taliaferro" at
birth, so he added a middle name.
He gives no indication why the name Washington popped into his head. But George
Washington, dead for only 60-odd years, had immense fame and respect at the
time. His will had been widely published in pamphlet form, and it was well
known that he had freed his slaves, Thompson says.
Did enslaved people feel inspired by Washington and take his name in tribute,
or were they seeking some benefits from the association? Did newly freed people
take the name as a mark of devotion to their country?
"We just don't know," Weincek says.
But the connection is too strong for some to ignore.
"There was a lot more consciousness and pride in American history among
African-Americans and enslaved African-Americans than a lot of people give them
credit for. They had a very strong sense of politics and history," says Adam
Goodheart, a professor at Washington College and author of the forthcoming
"1861: Civil War Awakening."
"They were thinking about how they could be Americans," Goodheart says. "That
they would embrace the name of this person who was an imperfect hero shows
there was a certain understanding of this country as an imperfect place, an
imperfect experiment, and a willingness to embrace that tradition of liberty
with all its contradictions."
Many black people took new names after the Revolutionary War, the Civil War,
and the black power movement, says Ira Berlin, a University of Maryland history
professor who has written books on the history of African-Americans.
"Names are this central way we think about ourselves," Berlin says. "Whenever
we have these kinds of emancipatory moments, suddenly people can reinvent
themselves, rethink themselves new, distinguish themselves from a past where
they were denigrated and abused. New names are one of the ways they do it."
But for black people who chose the name Washington, it's rarely certain
precisely why.
"It's an assumption that the surname is tied to George," says Tony Burroughs,
an expert on black genealogy, who says 82 to 94 percent of all Washingtons
listed in the 1880 to 1930 censuses were black.
"There is no direct evidence," he says. "As far as I'm concerned it's a
coincidence."
___
Coincidence or not, today the numbers are equally stark. Washington was listed
138th when the Census Bureau published a list of the 1,000 most common American
surnames from the 2000 survey, along with ethnic data. The project was not
repeated in 2010.
Ninety percent of those Washingtons, numbering 146,520, were black. Only five
percent, or 8,813, were white. Three percent were two or more races, 1 percent
were Hispanic, and 1 percent were Asian or Pacific Islander.
Jefferson was the second-blackest name, at 75 percent African-American. There
were only 16,070 Lincolns, and that number was only 14 percent black.
Jackson was 53 percent black. Williams was the 16th-blackest name, at 46
percent. But there were 1,534,042 total Williamses, including 716,704 black
ones so there were more blacks named Williams than anything else.
(The name Black was 68 percent white, meaning there were far more white Blacks
than black Blacks. The name White, meanwhile, was 19 percent black.)
Many present-day Washingtons are surprised to learn their name is not 100
percent black.
"Growing up, I just knew that only black people had my last name," says Shannon
Washington of New York City. Like many others, she has never met a white
Washington.
She has no negative feelings about her name: "It's a reflection of how far
we've come more than anything. I most likely come from a family of slaves who
were given or chose this name."
As the creator of advertisements, events and http://www.parlourmagazine.com,
she works with many Europeans, who often ask how she got her name. She plans on
keeping it when she gets married, and likens her attachment to that of some
black people for racist memorabilia like mammy dolls and Jim Crow signs.
"I don't exactly love it," she says of her name, "But I have to respect it."
Marcus Washington never thought much about his name as one of the few black
people working in the overwhelmingly white William Morris talent agency. That
changed after he filed a $25 million lawsuit in December accusing William
Morris of racial discrimination.
"I'm sure that for some people there, my name triggered the thought that I was
African-American, and automatically triggered biases that resulted in me not
being given a fair shot," he says.
One 2004 study conducted by researchers at the University of Chicago Graduate
School of Business found that job applicants with names that sound white
receive 50 percent more callbacks than applicants with "black" names.
The study responded to real employment ads with more than 5,000 fictitious
resumes. Half the resumes were assigned names like Emily Walsh; the other half
got names like Lakisha Washington. After calculating for the difference in
resume quality, the study concluded that "a white name yields as many more
callbacks as an additional eight years of experience on a resume."
But what about those 8,813 white Washingtons? What is their experience?
For the family of 85-year-old Larry Washington, who traces his family tree back
to England in the 1700s, the experience has changed over the years. (He says he
is not related to George, who had no children.)
When he moved to New Jersey in 1962 to teach at a college there, Larry
Washington's family tried to scout housing over the phone, but nothing was ever
available. "When we showed up, there were plenty of houses," he recalls. After
that, he taught his six children to always apply in person.
Over the years, his name made him sensitive to racism: "We just simply
recognized these things, and had full sympathy with the people who were really
black and getting the real treatment."
His son Paul, who in the 1970s worked for a temporary agency in Long Island,
NY, says people in the offices where he was assigned always betrayed their
relief when he turned out to be white. He experienced housing discrimination
into the `80s, but says that no longer happens.
He is now a geology professor who has lived in ten states from Louisiana to
Pennsylvania. Sometimes he wonders if his name helps him get interviews at
colleges looking to recruit a rare black geologist, and if it hurts him when
the college discovers that he is white.
Paul's children have had much different experiences like his 25-year-old
daughter, an English professor who teaches foreign students, whose new pupils
are always amazed to meet someone with "the ultimate American name."
When Paul's brother Larry Jr. was recently traveling through customs in Japan,
the inspector looked at his passport and said, "Oh, Mr. Washington!"
"His politeness and the number of times he bowed clearly indicated that he
thought I was the member of a very important family," Larry Jr. recalls.
His sister Ida, a veterinarian who lives in Seattle, says she has never
experienced discrimination due to her name as an adult. She is married, but
uses Washington as her professional name.
"It's very distinctive. I use it with a certain amount of pride," she says.
Back in high school, she became fascinated with black history. "I think my name
has made me much more aware of what African-American folks struggle with. I
feel in tune with them."
Perhaps her sentiments bring the name full circle from blacks making a
connection to the greatest white Washington to a white person choosing a name
associated with blackness.
"I find it touching that freed blacks wanted to identify with the American
tradition and the American dream," says Chernow, the biographer. "It makes a
powerful statement."
"I have to think," he says, "that George Washington would be very pleased that
so many black people have adopted his name."