 Amsterdam. And true to age old practice, baptism did not change one’s temporal status. That would have to wait for one’s heavenly reward. Maika says, “Although Sabbath rituals would have been different, the enslaved Kongolese would have recognized Christian symbols like the cross and the Lord’s Supper and found them meaningful as they attended services in the Old Dutch Church.”
In his will of 1700, Frederick Philipse, who owned 40 slaves across all of his New York properties, only names the 21 slaves associated with the Upper Mills and he singles out one slave in particular “Old Susan”, who may have been part of the original Kongolese group: “I will and order that the Negroe woman Old Susan shall dwell and continue on the plantation at the Upper Mills so long as she lives.” We can only conjecture why Susan was mentioned in this manner, but it might indicate that Philipse had a close relationship with the enslaved at the Upper Mills. Unlike the second generation of slave holders, Philipse did not change the original names of his enslaved workers.
By the time of Philpse’s death in 1702, the enslaved community at the Upper Mills was a heterogeneous mix of races and ethnicities. Philipse knew them personally, and though he exhibited his own brand of kindness to Old Susan and perhaps others, he rarely saw beyond their functional contributions to his property and showed no interest in setting them free. The next generation of Philipse slave holders would respond differently to the people they enslaved both at the Upper Mills and in New York City.
For the past six years I have been welcoming visitors to the Old Dutch Church, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the descendants of the old families, talking with amateur historians like myself about the American Revolution, and discussing my own interpretation of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. But something has always tugged at my heart. There is a part of our history that we don’t engage with. It’s uncomfortable and descendants of Cuffy and Old Susan do not cross our threshold to remind us, but that can not and should not erase their memory.
For the past few years, Yonkers artist Vinny Bagwell, has been engaged in a passionate project to tell the story of the enslaved Africans of the Lower Mills of Philipsburg Manor. Combining sculpture and spoken word she is bringing to life a public artwork that will interpret their legacy in an installation along the Hudson River called the Enslaved Africans’ Rain Garden. Two completed life-sized bronze sculptures, (five are planned), are currently on exhibition at the Yonkers Riverfront Library which sits in close proximity to the original Manor house of Frederick and Margaret Philipse, built in 1683.
When I think of Ms Bagwell’s work in Yonkers, combined with the educational programming of Historic Hudson Valley at the Philpsburg Manor historic site and our own role as stewards of the Old Dutch Church, I am made aware of the power of witness combined with story-telling. In between the lines of historic research we have to use our imagination, artistry and the art of story-telling to flesh out the lives of people who played an important role in the history of our nation. If we are to tell the story of the Philipse’s, we have to tell the story of Cuffy and Old Susan; of Mingo, Sampson, Billy, Charles, Peter, Mary and all the others whose only monument in our burying ground may be the very walls that surround us in worship at the Old Dutch Church.
So much thanks to our church historian Janie Couch-Allen who first told me the story of Cuffy.
Dennis J. Maikai’s essay “Slavery and the Philipse Family, 1680-1751” provided much of the historical context regarding the Kongolese cohort at the Upper Mills.
Vinnie Bagwell has been a source of inspiration since I was first made aware of the “Enslaved Africans’ Rain Garden” project during a talk she gave at Sarah Lawrence College. In her own words, she describes her work: “Anchored in realism, my style is defined by portraiture which provides insight into human character and shows a precise articulation of the