It was a lazy day today, with one visit to an architectural/history site and then one big and delicious meal. After we had a leisurely breakfast and did our ablutions, it was nearly 11 a.m. We then walked the ten blocks to the Owens-Thomas House and Slave Quarters:
The Owens–Thomas House & Slave Quarters (originally known as the Richardson House) is a historic home in Savannah, Georgia, that is operated as a historic house museum by Telfair Museums. It is located at 124 Abercorn Street, on the northeast corner of Oglethorpe Square. The Owens–Thomas House was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1976, as one of the nation’s finest examples of English Regency architecture.
Renovations in the 1990s uncovered and restored one of the oldest and best preserved urban slave quarters in the American South.
. . . The house is notable for its early cast iron side veranda with elaborate acanthus scroll supports on which the Marquis de Lafayette addressed the citizens of Savannah on his visit in 1825.
The house was built between 1816 and 1819, designed by the architect William Jay of Bath and financed and occupied by Richard Richardson. It was then purchased by attorney and politician George Welshman Owens, who was briefly mayor of Savannah and later a U.S. Representative.
The Owens family lived in the house for a while, but after some decades turned it into a boarding house, which is when Lafayette stayed there on his final visit to America on the 50th anniversary of the American Revolution—in which Lafayette played a huge role.
In 1951 the family turned the house over to the Telfair Academy of Arts and Sciences , which still owns it (I visited the other two parts of the Museum on my first day here).
The sign below gives pretty much the same information above.
The front of the house (I forgot to photograph the famous balcony). When Lafayette, an abolitionist, visited Savannah in 1825, the town kept all the slaves inside, along with the free blacks, so they wouldn’t be incited by Lafayette’s antislavery sentiments.
The back garden of the house, designed to be completely symmetrical. In the rear are the slave quarters. This is only part of them: the small house held 12 people, and there were a bit more than 20 enslaved people working for the white residents.
This sign was in the slave quarters, explaining why the guides and many of the signs used the terms “enslaved people” instead of “slaves.”
Inside the quarters, which slept at least twelve people, though many of the enslaved, like the cook and those who took care of the chlldren, slept inside the big house.
The dining room. Food was cooked in the basement, and since there was no dumbwaiter it was carried on trays up two floors from the basement and put in the butler’s pantry before being served.
The butler’s pantry was a small room, with four empty bottles of wine sitting on the sideboard. As the tour moved on, I picked up one of the bottles and saw what’s below: a bottle of Barton and Guestier bordeaux—from 1870! I’d never held a wine bottle that old before. And this chateau is still going strong; it was founded in 1725.
The structural material of the house was tabby, an equal mixture of sand, burnt oyster shells, water, and ash. It was an early form of concrete, and was quite durable. As you see, the tabby was covered with wood paneling.
This room was presumed to be the library/study, though now they’re unsure what all the rooms were used for.
This is presumed to be the oldest son’s bedroom.
And a mirror, at the bottom of which you can see a selfie of Professor Ceiling Cat (Emeritus):
The (presumed) master bedroom, now a word that’s out of favor for obvious reasons (I can’t remember what it’s supposed to be called now).
After the tour we walked home and then got in the car to drive to a restaurant I’d scoped out as a likely prospect: great food, not overly expensive and, most important, Southern. Yes, we went to Erica Davis Lowcountry. It turned out to be all I hoped for, though if you drove by this place you wouldn’t think to go in. But you’d be making a mistake if you didn’t.
We split two appetizers. First, oysters Rockefeller made with local oysters. Wikipedia describes the dish this way:
Oysters Rockefeller is a dish consisting of oysters on the half-shell that have been topped with a rich sauce of butter, parsley and other green herbs, bread crumbs, and then baked or broiled.
There were also collard greens, cream. and Parmesan cheese. It was scrumptious—the first time I’ve had this dish. With all that garnish you could still taste the oysters, and I love oysters. You’d think the dish would be too busy with all the ingredients, but the flavors mingled perfectly.
Another Southern classic: fried green tomatoes, these with feta cheese and balsamic vinegar reduction.
The menu was so full of good stuff (see the link above) that I asked the waiter what she recommended. Without question she mentioned the shrimp, which are local, fresh, and delicious. So I got a half pound of boiled shrimp. They came with clarified butter, shrimp sauce, and two sides (I chose cheese grits and deep-fried okra). And oy, were those shrimp good! I ate the shells, of course, as all good shrimp lovers do.
Tim had the Wassaw redfish, described as “pan-seared redfish filet, garlic beurre blanc, heirloom tomato, stone ground grits, fresh green beans.” He pronounced it excellent.
Betsy had two crab cakes along with green beans and cole slaw. As expected, the cakes were almost all lump crabmeat, with just a small amount of filling to hold them together. With a little bit of the sauce on the crab, it was a Platonic version of this dish.
And my Southern dessert: the third helping of banana pudding I’ve had on this trip—this time served in a Mason jar. This was the fanciest version of all I’ve had. As you can see, it’s topped with whipped cream dusted with vanilla wafer crumbs, with a whole wafer on the side. (Banana pudding sans vanilla wafers is unthinkable.) Then there’s a layer of banana pudding, then a layer of cake, and then a bottom layer of pudding with chunks of banana. This was the best version I had on this trip, and probably the best version I’d ever had. (I’ve eaten it many times, often with BBQ or a meat-and-three plate in the South.)
The meal was terrific, not very expensive, and prepared with great care. I’d recommend this place very highly to anyone who visits Savannah.
An excellent explanation of intent in the use of “slave” versus “enslaved”.
Realtors seem to use the words primary bedroom rather than master bedroom these days and I have also heard the shared bathroom between two kids’ bedrooms called a buddy bathroom in place of the more traditional jack and jill.
I can get behind most of the moderate language policing for the original activities of the House, even though I don’t normally care for extreme virtue signaling form of language policing that we see elsewhere.
But a Master bedroom should be fine. We have such a bedroom. Policing that is unnecessary.
Mark, I am only reporting information on the realty stuff…not supporting it. Like so much virtue flaunting the activity seems to take a life of its own. I think that the thinking behind enslavement corrections makes good sense and actually adds value to the language…more than eliminating a perceived micro-aggression.
Jim, I’ll note the building is properly called the “Slave Quarters” rather than the “Enslaved Persons’ Quarters.”
If I were a slave, I doubt the “employed persons” of the museum would win me over by explaining that slavery was not core to my existence. This is therapy, not history: “You are more than your condition.” The brutal reduction of a human being to “slave” was meant to be dehumanizing; that is why we came to recoil from the practice. The language reformers now recoil from the words—the same words that help keep fresh the evils that they describe. Softening the language softens the history. In a misguided attempt to elevate the humanity of those who are gone, we simultaneously distort history and anesthetize the listener with less horrific-sounding words.
The wordolatry priests elevate only one group—and it isn’t the oppressed.
Indeed, and it seems to be applied very selectively. For example, I’ve never heard slaves of ancient Rome or of the Aztec empire referred to as “enslaved persons”.
Splendid virtual visit – if this is of interest, I highly recommend the Gilded Age mansions in Rhode Island – I get goosebumps remembering them – just magical time-travel in real life – e.g. The Breakers (Vanderbilt family), and Marble House.
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OK, that sign :
Raising a consciousness to an esoteric project of repair, led by The Elect, through control of thought-in-language – for the Iron Law of Woke Projection and Inversion never misses.
I note that the 2018 re-re-naming of The Owens-Thomas House (1830) to Owens-Thomas House and Slave Quarters still fails to meet the site’s own language rule.
The inconsistency drives praxis.
……..
Politics and the English Language
George Orwell
1946
Abuse of Language … Abuse of Power
Josef Pieper
1974
The idea that the word “slave” carries the implication that the person spoken of using that word is, at her core, a slave is a piece of woke mythology. The historian David Blight, who wrote an outstanding biography of Frederick Douglass, has argued for this in detail. A good example of the standard usage, not carrying any such implication, is Douglass’s own speech “What, to the slave, is the Fourth of July?”
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Yes. “Enslaved people” has replaced “slaves,” for the very good reason stated in the sign. I’ve also noticed that “Jewish people” has been sometimes used to replace “Jews,” as in “We need to do more to protect Jewish people from harassment.” My thinking is that this is a mistake as, unlike slaves, Jewish people are at their core, Jews. (A small bugbear of mine.)
Back to Savannah. Excellent pictures and history of the Owens-Thomas house, but I can’t get over the food. Such amazing food! And, when that’s done, more amazing food!
Thank you for the Day 6 highlights!
Lafayette made an interesting, year-long Farewell Tour of the US, 1824-5, interestingly stopping in Williamsburg in Oct ’24 (I didn’t know this until just now), and reaching St Louis by the end of April ’25. At the end of May ’25 he spent the night at the 1803 Wallace Mansion, significant for being nearly ground-zero for the 1755 Battle of Braddock’s Field, across the street from my future campground.
So would using the noun “servant” imply that the serving person is at their core, a servant? I would say no. The same goes for “slave.” It’s presumptuous and patronizing to assume that someone who uses “slave” ergo believes bondage was the slave’s “core existence.” The idea that you cannot fully feel empathy for a slave until you call them an “enslaved person” reveals a literal-minded conception of language. Those who seek to police language overrate the power of words, since linguistic activism is usually the only kind they’re capable of…but at least they get to congratulate themselves on their empathy!
To be fair, some of the other word changes in the sign can be applauded for moving toward greater directness, and elimination of euphemism (a southern plantation was indeed a slave labor camp).
I agree with you.
“Those who seek to police language overrate the power of words…”
It’s a very ancient belief: that words possess magical power.
Funny – I imagine you with your camera taking pics of your meals like a teenage Instagram influencer girly.
I always find this amusing though I very much enjoy the food-porn and meals you show us – sometimes they influence my own dinner ordering.
Keep it up, just don’t branch into make-up tutorials!
D.A.
NYC 🗽
Thanks. I eat the shells too. That there is at least one other person who eats shrimp shells makes me feel better.
I hope someone can explain this to me. I hate shrimp shells in my shrimp, and I will not order shrimp if the waiter says they will be in the shells.
That looks like an outstanding restaurant. I adore fried green tomatoes and I’ve never tasted grits as good as on the SE coast. I didn’t appreciate that grits could be so much more than a breakfast staple until I visited there.
tabby, an equal mixture of sand, burnt oyster shells, water, and ash
There’s clearly some wood ash in the old lime mortar on some of the bricks that i deal with. It must somehow strengthen the mortar, but I’ve never seen an explanation of how it works.