Volunteers help excavate an area next to Christ Church, Elizabeth City, North Carolina, to find more artifacts that provide a look into the owner of a house on the land in the early 1800s — who they now believe to be George Davis, a Black man who had considerable wealth in that era. Photo: Alice Brewin Moncla via Facebook
[Episcopal News Service] What began as the removal of a tree at Christ Church in Elizabeth City, North Carolina, has turned into a look into the life of the property’s former owner and the region’s 19th century history.
In the far northeastern corner of the state, Elizabeth City is part of the Episcopal Diocese of East Carolina.
The tree, a magnolia, had been planted over 100 years ago in memory of a son of the parish who had died during World War I. After it became diseased, the church decided to remove it and had planned to build a playground on that spot.
But when an excavation crew began digging the tree out, it brought up bricks, bits of broken dishes, bottles and other pottery – as well as a few bones. Fearing it might be an unmarked grave, the Rev. Daniel Cenci, the rector, asked the workers to stop digging and went to look for himself.
What they ultimately found, Cenci told Episcopal News Service, was something he had not expected — that “50 years before the Civil War, in the antebellum South, in the Black Belt region of North Carolina known for its huge plantations and aristocracy, is an African American man who owns two of only 77 lots in the entire city,” including the lots on which the church now stands.
The church has for decades been involved in racial reconciliation in its community, Cenci said. In the 1960s it was the first church in Elizabeth City to integrate, when it combined with the historically Black St. Philip’s Episcopal Church to form one congregation. Annually in February, it joins with historically Black churches in town to host a service for Absalom Jones, the first Black priest in The Episcopal Church. Christ Church also partners with many of those same congregations on community development and outreach projects.
Digging into the past in the dirt and county records
After that initial excavation in late June, Cenci asked for help from the city’s Museum of the Albemarle, which is devoted to the history and culture of northeastern North Carolina, a region historically known as “The Albemarle,” named for a 17th century duke of Albemarle.
The museum sent a curator and an archaeology intern, who determined the bones were from an animal. They also quickly dated some of the artifacts to as early as 1720, but they thought most were from about 1790 to 1830. The current church building was built in 1856 and replaced one next door that was constructed in 1825.
Cenci also alerted Ian Lowry, a member of the church and its historian, to the finds. The parish also called on the state archaeology office, whose staff, along with parishioners, found more artifacts. These included pieces of porcelain that seemed to match the popular Blue Willow pattern that first was manufactured in England about 1790 and featured a variety of Chinese motifs, including a willow tree. Lowry also found the neck of a bottle imported from France, which he believes likely held wine.
Lowry and his mother Robyn Nix Culpepper, another local history buff, also began digging of a different sort – in county records to figure out who might have owned these artifacts and the house from which they came.
They found a deed issued to George Davis, who owned the property from 1811 to 1822, and who most likely owned the artifacts. The deed noted Davis was “of Colour.” Lowry said the term might have referred to someone of mixed race but likely meant Davis was Black. Census records show that Davis was a freeman, but whether he had ever been enslaved remains unclear
Bits of broken pottery pulled from the excavation site at Christ Church, Elizabeth City, North Carolina, include pieces (top of the plate) that historian Ian Lowry believe come from 19th century Blue Willow dishes imported from England. Photo: Ian Lowry via Facebook
Lowry told ENS that what they have learned points to Davis being what today would be called upper middle class. The two lots he owned were waterfront properties facing the Dismal Swamp Canal, which starting in 1805 served as a channel for shipping goods from the area up through Virginia’s Chesapeake Bay to buyers along the East Coast and overseas.
Don Pendergraft, the Museum of the Albemarle’s director of regional museums, told ENS that in the early 19th century, the area was home to many Black people, making up perhaps half the city’s population. Some were enslaved by owners of the area’s few large cotton and tobacco plantations or by area farmers. Some may have been formerly enslaved people who escaped from Virginia into the area, which only recently was settled – Elizabeth City was founded in 1793 – and had fewer means of enforcing slavery laws than their neighbors to the north. Some of them likely would have been skilled craftsmen, such as carpenters or masons, and were able to make a good living, he said.
But the area’s reliance on the river also gave Black men the opportunity to pilot river boats, Pendergraft said. As commerce moved through the canal, many boats were piloted by Black men, which not only provided them with a good living but also made them the ultimate authority on board, even higher than a boat’s white owner.
Lowry said Davis certainly had enough wealth to own imported dishes and wine, but so far, he cannot determine how he made his money.
The large number of bricks unearthed led Lowry to believe the property’s house had at least one chimney and likely two, and probably would have had two stories, in keeping with similar homes of the period. “This was still a time where most people in the county were living in one- and two-room cabins,” Lowry said. “Even most free whites, who were farmers or such, were still living in those conditions.”
The third entry in a Christ Church parish register from the early 19th century shows the marriage of John Edge to Charlotte Davis, who is designated as (col’d), meaning she was a person of color. Charlotte was the daughter of George Davis. Photo: Ian Lowry via Facebook
Records show that Davis had three children, and one of them, Charlotte, was married at Christ Church in 1833 to John Edge. The abbreviation “col’d” was listed after Charlotte’s name in the church’s marriage register, but Lowry said Edge certainly would have been a person of color, too, since North Carolina laws at that time forbid interracial marriage. Census records don’t show a wife for Davis during this period.
There is no mention of Charlotte Davis after 1833, so Lowry assumes she and her husband moved away from Elizabeth City, perhaps heading to a nearby town or even joining the gathering movement of people heading west to places like Ohio. He hopes to do more research to see if he can find an answer.
Lowry also found census records that provide a perplexing possibility for George Davis. In 1800 a “colored” man in the county by the same name is listed as owning four enslaved people, while in 1810 and 1820 records, no slaves were mentioned.
“It wasn’t uncommon for free men of color to have slaves around,” he said. “So that could be our George. It could be a relative, or it could be totally unrelated.” He added, “I would like to hope that he didn’t own slaves. I know you’ve got to be careful, because you don’t want to project your own stuff onto the past.”
Cenci said that everything the church has discovered so far has prompted him to think more deeply about the church’s role in the relationships between white and Black people in the decades before the Civil War. He assumes the 1825 church, like the current 1856 church, would have had a balcony where enslaved people who attended church with their owners, as well as any freed Black or mixed-race people, had to sit. “What I’d love to know,” Cenci said, “is were the Davises sitting up there, or were they down in one of the rented pews,” given their level of wealth?
What is known is that after George Davis died in 1822, his property was sold to pay back money he had borrowed from a wealthy white man in a nearby town – another fact that points to Davis being a respected citizen and someone to whom a white man felt comfortable loaning money.
Lowry assumes at that point the house was simply torn down, with everything in it pulled into a small root cellar with additional dirt piled on top. Even the planting of the memorial magnolia tree a century ago didn’t disturb what remained of Davis’s house.
The church’s vestry voted in mid-July to conduct an in-house dig to salvage any remaining items buried in the churchyard. Working with the Museum of the Albemarle, the parish hopes to open the archaeological process of sifting and digging to members of the church and the community, Cenci said.
“Our hope is that this will be an opportunity for youth and adults to learn about our local history,” he said. He added that Lowry will oversee the project.
And from the old magnolia tree that started this archaeological exploration, Cenci said the parish will make a wooden altar cross to be used during Lent.
— Melodie Woerman is an Episcopal News Service freelance reporter based in Kansas.