Dear John
On the eve of the twenty-first century, our family hosted a New Year’s Eve party at our house in the western suburbs of Chicago. We had one of those high-ceilinged great rooms that combined a living room, dining room, and kitchen with plenty of room for dancing if we moved the furniture. In the living room section where we danced, the twenty-five-foot ceiling rose to a flattened peak. The floors, walls, and ceiling were covered in panels of dark-stained wood, giving the impression of an upside-down Noah’s arc. It was a funky house. The place was surrounded by old oak trees; high windows and sliding doors lined two sides of the great room and because the house perched on a slight knoll I sometimes felt like I was living in a treehouse. On the night of the New Year’s Eve party, we brought the trees inside. Our artist friend hung spindly branches on the walls and covered the branches with white chiffon and tiny white Christmas lights. Outside the night was dark but inside we floated in the clouds.
Everyone wondered if the World Wide Web would shut down. Concerns about Y2K had not been resolved. Would antiquated computer programs—especially those used by the banks—compute the year incorrectly? We’d been told they’d been programmed to record the years using two digits instead of four. What would happen when programs rolled from 99 to 00? Would civilization come to a screeching halt? We’d bought a generator, just in case, but the lights stayed on. We were relieved when we realized that the world would not need to start over. As the millennium rolled past midnight, our neighbors let off firecrackers. We pushed back the furniture and danced.
For several years prior to the Millennial party, we had hosted folk dances at our house for college students. We trained the dancers to roll up the carpet and carry couches and chairs to the adjacent dining room area. I lead the dances. Having grown up taking ballet, I was considered the resident expert. I had only been to a few folk dances, but no one knew any better. Of the dozens of students who came to our house, none had participated in folk dances before. I resurrected English dances and Scottish reels by using a library book—the precursor to Youtube. I let some rules slip. Properly educated folk dancers glide lightly across the floor. Our dancers were never quiet. The house rocked from the stomping of feet. The girls flew while spinning with their partners, almost lifting off the floor. On the night of the Millennial party, we had three times the people that we usually and the regular monthly dances, since we’d invited other friends. We danced in shifts. That night we shook the foundations of the house. We were like Noah dancing with his rhinos and elephants and flapping stalk birds. I began to wonder if the wooden planks under our feet would collapse instead of the Internet.
Before their first visit, most of the young men who came to dances had never participated in reels or twirled girls on a dance floor. They came to the dances coaxed by the coeds. We operated under the maxim: invite the coeds and the boys will follow. In the beginning, these young men were understandably self-conscious. But they soon relaxed and spent the evening wearing wide grins, demonstrating a childlike surprise at how much fun they were having. The surprised smile these young men wore was always my favorite part of these dances. On the eve of the new century, our older guests, who knew almost nothing about folk dancing, woe similar smiles. That night the house was filled with a general consensus of surprised joy.
We started with the Virginia reel, an easy line dance that was always a favorite for newbies. The Virginia reel, an English country dance, dates back to the seventeenth century. I learned the Virginia reel at school in the second grade. I vividly remember that day (as I do most of the rare events in school that had anything to do with the creative arts). The teachers—none of the dancers—did their best to enlighten us about the fine points of the do-si-do and promenades. The boys lined up on one side of the cafeteria facing the girls. After completing several choreographed greetings, we split into two lines and followed the leaders, dipping our heads under the raised arc of arms made by the lead couple. From that single lesson, I was later able to teach dozens of college-age students and adults the Virginia reel as we propelled into the new century.
***
My family hosted a folk dance in the suburbs of Chicago at the turn of the twenty-first century. We danced like my ancestors had done two hundred years earlier on the eve of the nineteenth century. None of us spoke of the connection between our concerns about Y2K and dancing the Virginia reel. As we leaped into an unknown, anxiety-provoking future, we turned our attention to the past. Perhaps this is the way people have always moved into the future. Two steps forward, one step back. Only really fast. We speed into the future while holding onto a hefty chunk of its past, which can be both reassuring and exhausting.
At the turn of the nineteenth century, a teenage John Steele was probably dancing the Virginia reel in Steeles Tavern, wildly swinging his pretty partner across a makeshift dance floor fashioned as the furniture was pushed against the wall to expose the wood-planked floors. Along with his friends and family, young John Steele no doubt greeted the century with a mix of excitement and trepidation—optimistic about the future, but also anxious about the many unpredictable changes hurling towards him and those he loved.
John Steele studied law as a young man. I have never felt connected to the law profession. Not even when two of my kids became lawyers. I trace this back to my upbringing, to what was for me as a child the exotic and far-removed nature of the legal profession. In the modest, middle class neighborhood of Tuckahoe Park where I grew up, I wasn’t exposed to educated professionals like lawyers. On my end of Comet Road, two of the dads worked for the state government as accountants. There was an insurance salesman, an auto mechanic, a preacher, and a plumber. My dad sold auto parts to car dealerships. Most of the moms remained at home but several worked part-time as a sales clerk, a nurse, and an office worker. There were no attorneys living on Comet Road. As far as I can remember, I never met a lawyer during my childhood. So it came as a surprise to find lawyers in my family tree. I had to go back a long way to find them!
John Steele was studying law as the new nation tried to figure out what kind of legal system it would have going forward after the American Revolution. The nation might’ve been new but a legal system had been in place for generations. In the seventeenth century, legal proceedings were informal. People usually represented themselves. Sometimes they hired a lawyer By 1700, judicial procedures had become more formal. Lawyers were needed to handle arguments. Colonial lawyers learned their skills by apprenticeship and by sitting around courtrooms. Fees for lawyers were kept low and so lawyers often took on a boatload of cases. The great majority of these cases dealt with debts and occasionally with land disputes. Bystanders attended the court sessions for the sport of watching the speedy, high-drama cases play out.
Unlike the seasonal aspect of farmers and merchants, lawyers collected a steady stream of income, eventually emerging as one of the highest income groups in the colonies. Professional lawyers were not widely loved. Maybe people were jealous of their consistent income. Families passed along stories of being cheated by devious attorneys. To escape this shady reputation, the legal community sought to raise their professional standards by forming local bar associations. The profession didn’t reach standardization until after the Civil War.
John Steele was born after the American Revolution and died as the Civil War ended. He grew up watching the new nation unfold. His entire life was lived between two wars. Teachers of American history might be tempted to skip over the years between the American Revolution and the Civil War in order to devote more time to the war for American independence and the nasty war that almost tore that new nation apart. But lots of important events took place during John Steele’s lifetime. Jefferson bought a chunk of land from Napoleon, which prompted him to send Lewis and Clarke on a long trip to the West Coast. America got into another tangle with England. Andrew Jackson relocated the entire Cherokee Nation to Oklahoma. A Gold Rush enticed 300,000 settlers to leave home and try their luck in California. Congress tinkered with the Supreme Court and restructured the banking system. The Panic of 1819 was followed by a general collapse of the American economy. Maine joined the United States as a free state and Missouri as a slave state, fueling tensions that would lead to civil war.
At the turn of the nineteenth century, when John was dancing in Steeles Tavern, Virginia still carried the carnage of a colonial past. The Old Dominion, like the rest of the nation, faced a total redo. What would Virginia and the nation become? Which laws and customs would be preserved? What would be tossed out?
The years after the Revolution proved to be a tumultuous period of societal self-discovery. Americans knew they had been given the task of inventing a new government. They were aware they were laying a foundation for future generations. But a new government was only part of the picture. Societal change needed to occur. The culture of America morphed into something new during the years following the framing of the Constitution.
Americans experienced a remarkable transformation in how they related to one another after the Revolution. They perceived the world differently. As the century progressed, changes continued to occur in all aspects of life, but especially in the economy, politics, and culture. Economic developments destabilized society, breaking down social organizations and hierarchies. The decline of organized religion, the expansion of the transportation sector, population growth, a more diverse ethnic mix, and the lure of vacant land combined to disrupt post-colonial society. Even though Americans remained confident and optimistic about the future, all this change created a lot of anxiety.
Like most Americans at the turn of the century, John Steele grew up on a farm. Farm life meant hard, dirty work with few comforts. Country people often went barefoot because cobbler-made shoes were expensive. They wore heavy fabric because they believed (correctly) that sunshine was bad for their skin. The few clothes they owned often stank of sweat. People smelt generally bad. Water had to be carried into the house and then heated. Few people bathed more than once a week. Some bathed once a year. Soap was reserved for the laundry. Homemade tallow candles were smelly and smoky and so most of the indoor light came from the fireplace. During the winter, the household slept in the room with the fire, often sharing a bed. Privacy for married couples was rare. Even so, the population doubled every twenty years.
One of the most unsettling realities of the decades following the turn of the nineteenth century was the resettlement of the newly opened western lands, recently vacated by the native inhabitants. John and his wife, Eliza Moon, had twelve children, which they raised in Steeles Tavern. Their brick house still stands. Half of the children moved away, never to see their parents again. They scattered across the country to Alabama, Missouri, California, and Washington. Their families wrote home to their parents and siblings. Some of their letters are the big box of Steele family papers in my closet.
Moving meant personal upheaval. The westward expansion certainly brought increased power to the nation, but the people who migrated often suffered. There were many reasons to leave home. In Virginia the woods had disappeared and the fields and grown exhausted, especially in the tidewater and piedmont regions. A large landowner could allow fields to lie fallow, but a small farmer didn’t have enough land to allow his soil rest. Moving always entailed risks. During the first few years in a new location, families might go hungry. A migration took the farmers away from markets. Migration also took farmers into conflict with Native people, or at least before they were finally subdued. Some of John and Eliza’s children struggled financially after leaving the Valley. Some of the Steeles fought the Shawnee. Pioneers often moved more than once. A farmer who relocated to newly opened lands might seek to occupy more land then he could reasonably cultivate with the hope that the value of the land would rise as more settlers arrived. He moved with the promise of moving again. The pioneer who actually got ahead by relocating did so by innate ability, hard work, and willpower. This sort of man was often an innovator and able to take risks. He possessed an entrepreneurial spirit—an unusual trait among farmers—and was willing to try out new methods of farming and experiment with new locations. Back home in the Shenandoah Valley, farmers tended to remain more traditional. They tended not to try new farming innovations.
When the inventor, Cyrus McCormick, first demonstrated his harvesting device in 1831 on John Steele’s oat field, the neighbors didn’t exactly line up to buy the new contraption. Although John and Cyrus were kin by marriage—John’s sister married Cyrus’s brother—and longtime neighbors, John Steele must’ve been an open-minded man to allow Cyrus to use his oat field for an initial demonstration. John’s great-grandfather, David Steele, had used an iron plow in the 1740s, which many of his neighbors considered harmful to the soil, preferring the wooden plow of their forefathers. Arguably, the Steeles maintained a progressive attitude toward innovation.
On the day of the initial demonstration of the new mechanical harvesting device, John and Eliza welcomed Cyrus McCormick to their oat field. Spectators clapped and cheered, but then went home and kept harvesting as they had always done, bent over with a sickle or cradle, sometimes a dozen workers in the field.
After trying to sell his new invention the Virginians, Cyrus McCormick relocated to Chicago, a promising small western town, where he found a more willing clientele of recent pioneers who sought to turn over the fertile soil of the prairie and plant corn, oats, and wheat. Years later, Eliza Moon Steele went on record that she and her neighbors thought the harvester was a right smart machine that day, but that it wouldn’t amount to much.
By the turn of the century, Americans had rejected the class privileges of the Old World. But the future of the new nation had yet to be decided. Would the country continue to be motivated by the individualistic values and expansionist expectations of the agrarian backwoodsman? Or would America take a definitive turn and end up relying on industrial and technological advances instead of the land? Nature or industry? Farms or factories? Real property or money in the bank? During the period, the wealth of the Valley remained in agriculture. John and Eliza owned a two-story brick house, one of the earliest brick houses built in the Valley. The children shared rooms but the parents had plenty of privacy, which might explain the twelve children.
After the turn of the century, John Steele left his Steeles Tavern in Steeles Tavern to study law in Staunton with his cousin, John Coalter, a prominent attorney. Coalter had studied law with George Wythe, America’s first law professor. To his contemporaries, Coalter came across as a frank and energetic man who could be quite shrewd. He rose to the highest ranks of his profession and he died a wealthy man.
John Coalter
Coalter practiced law in his hometown of Staunton, twenty-six miles north of Steeles Tavern. Prior to the Revolution, Staunton had served as the westernmost courthouse in America and became one of the major trading centers in the backcountry. As the economy expanded in the mid-eighteenth century, large amounts of grain and tobacco came through Staunton. A capable attorney could make a good living in Staunton.
John Steele entered the law profession during an important time in American jurisprudence. Changes were afoot! Many of the experienced (and formerly esteemed) members of the legal profession had been Loyalists linked to the crown. Most of these men left the country after the Revolution. Younger men like John Steele stepped into the field, hoping to fill their shoes.
The new generation of legal scholars continued the colonial tradition of apprenticing with an established lawyer, usually clerking in an office drawing up routine contracts and wills. The apprenticeship system favored nepotism, as was surely the case for John Steele since he was Coalter’s cousin on the Moore side of the family. Even though John Steele grew up in the backwoods of Virginia, there were already three lawyers in the family. In addition to Coalter, John’s great uncle, David Steele, practiced law in Harrisonburg. Uncle Andrew Moore, a ratifier of the Constitution and United States senator, had studied law with George Wythe.
George Wythe
George Wythe helped to shape the legal minds of the first generation of American lawyers. Wythe instructed Thomas Jefferson, Henry Clay, James Monroe, and John Marshal. While teaching at the college of William and Mary, he was known for his modesty, quiet dignity, and personal integrity—offering a promising start to the American legal profession. According to the historian Paul Johnson, Wythe hosted dinner parties for the “many clever guests at his house.” Jefferson was a frequent visitor and “first learned to blossom in Wythe’s circle.” (Johnson, p 143) Perhaps John Steele accompanied his mentor, John Coalter, to sup at Wythe’s table?
Let’s hope so! Because that would be so fun! Even a tangential connection between John Steele and a famous figure like George Wythe delights an amateur researcher like myself. Snooping around famous people can prove so productive! Clues are everywhere! For instance, a quick Internet search brings up dozens of items about Wythe that has helped me to better understand my ancestor.
***
The colonial legal system that John inherited as a student of law was rooted in English common law. European civil law had grown out of the framework of Roman law, using a reference system of codified laws that rested upon doctrine. English common law was created by judges as they decided actual cases, giving precedence to prior court decisions. Common law reflected the long-held habits and customs of the English people. (Lousiana is the only state today with a civil European legal system, derived from its French and Spanish heritage.)
English law was exported to the colonies, but the English legal system, born out of the habits and customs of a much older society with feudal roots, didn’t exactly fit the colonies. Colonists ended up taking what they needed from the English common law. Colonial law changed as judges confronted unique situations not found in the mother country (such as laws about slavery).
English common law had developed to protect the rights of the landed gentry back home in England. The colonies had no aristocracy. In Virginia, common folk like John Steele owned land. Colonial law became a stripped-down version of English law. According to the historian, Lawrence M. Friedman, Colonial America became an experiment in “testing what happened to common law when it was yanked out of its socket and transported to a new place…where the encrusted social structure of England had no chance to take root.” (Friedman p. 30) Laws helped to shape colonial America. The legal system also reflected American society. An England-based common law wasn’t meant for a young, poor society facing an expansive wilderness. The throngs of the common folk in America needed laws that better fit them. Americans tended to favor people of action like farmers and merchants and craftsmen, and inventors and innovators like Cyrus McCormick and Eli Whitney.
America was the first major country to adopt a written constitution. The big question for the post-revolutionary generation was what would be the foundation of the new American legal system? Government, it was decided, would no longer be based on powerful men with deep pockets, but on legal jurisprudence. Laws would no longer rest on the authority of a king but on an agreement with the people embodied by the Constitution.
Laws were needed to keep otherwise decent people from reverting to mob rule. Laws were also meant to keep the government from tyrannically controlling these same people. According to the historian, G. Edward White, the Revolutionary generation thought the new country needed laws to help balance “the virtues and excesses of the sovereign people against the virtues and excesses of their government”. (White, p. 19)
The Supreme Court would make sure the legislative and executive branches obeyed the Constitution. By introducing a supreme, permanent source of law, the framers of the Constitution checked both the government and the people’s inclination to change the laws to fit social attitudes. Interpretations were to remain until the people chose to amend the document itself.
John Marshall
Chief Justice John Marshall helped shape the Supreme Court's role in the federal government, establishing the court as the ultimate authority in interpreting the Constitution. Marshall was a frontiersman, born in a log cabin about a hundred miles north of Steeles Tavern on the eastern side of the Blue Ridge. Andrew Moore, John’s maternal uncle, had worked with Marshall in the state legislature. Like John Steele’s mentor, John Coalter, Marshall had studied with George Wythe, who offered Marshall a brief but important tutelage that helped to form the character of the person who would lay the foundations of constitutional law in America. Marshall served for thirty-four years, the longest tenure for any chief justice. Unlike Jefferson (who regarded Marshall as an enemy of republicanism), Marshall saw Industry as America’s future. Southerners tended to prefer land ownership and distrusted money, but although Marshall was a Virginian born and bred, he became convinced that what the country needed was a consistent legal framework that would help entrepreneurs invest with confidence. Marshall’s leadership helped wed the United States to industrial capitalism.
***
Americans remained divided over sectional interests that deepened with rapid industrialization and the question of slavery. As anti-slavery sentiments across the country grew in the 1830s, Congress chose to respond by not responding. The leaders who founded the country had hoped to see the end of slavery in America, but slavery was stronger in 1815 than in 1789.
The law played an important role in making the institution of slavery strong in southern states like Virginia. Slavery began as a custom before being formalized into law. Prior to the settling of the colonies, there had been no need for laws about slavery since England had no slaves. By 1750, when free and enslaved black colonists made up forty percent of the population, Virginia had already built up a large body of law relating to slavery. Once legally formalized, the social custom of owning dark-skinned people from Africa became cemented into colonial culture. Throughout the South, the slave-owning landed gentry dominated politics. Communities expected judges to be appointed from a short roster of prominent citizens. The elite families encouraged the codification of slavey. New laws helped to change and maintain the community’s expectations about slaves and the slaveholding community.
The law worked to make freeing slaves difficult. John Coalter’s widow tried and failed to free ninety-two slaves upon her death. Since the law prevented freed slaves from residing in Virginia, Hannah Coalter’s slaves were given a choice: move to a free state, travel to Liberia, or remain in servitude among Hannah’s kin. After her death, Hannah’s family contested her will. The Virginia Supreme Court of Appeals ruled that the slaves would remain in slavery since enslaved people could not be offered a choice in their freedom. The law found new ways to codify slavery.
The custom of slavery was influenced by indentured servitude. Many white immigrants offered themselves as servants in exchange for a passage to the colonies. They served without pay for a period of years, usually living in the household. Their master or mistress could buy or sell their services and the servant couldn’t protest. Without legal recourse, they had no choice but to endure any mistreatment. Indentured servants had few freedoms until their service ended. But at a legally specified time, an indentured servant became legally free.
The migration of indentured servants slowed down at the turn of the century. Sixty years later, the slave trade was booming, a dramatic increase some historians attribute to the lack of indentured servants. Enslaving unwilling black immigrants was a new chapter in the history of servitude. Owning black people from Africa and their children forever was a novel enterprise, thought up and enacted by land-owning colonists—perhaps as a wild and desperate attempt to outrun memories of a feudal past.
Early America was land rich and labor poor. The lack of hired help was a serious problem for large landowners. Each generation found their sons and daughters leaving home to occupy newly open territories. If not for slaves, who would be left to tend the fields? When Eli Whitney invented a mechanical device to separate cotton fibers from their seeds, Southern planters doubled down, increasing the numbers of slaves to work the cotton fields—enacting laws to keep the enslaved field hands in the fields picking cotton.
Slavery added to the tension of the new century. John’s neighbors who owned slaves kept an eye on the help. White people were scared of their black neighbors. They lived in fear of slave uprisings. When the black revolutionaries of Haiti succeeded in gaining freedom, southern planters panicked. They remained frightened for decades. They had reasons to be fearful. In the years leading up to the Civil War, white southerners experienced over two hundred slave uprisings or attempted uprisings involving ten or more slaves. One of the best known local attempts involved Gabriel Prosser of Richmond, Virginia. I grew up in Richmond but never heard of Gabriel Prosser.
Gabriel Prosser
People of both races considered Prosser, a literate blacksmith, to be "a fellow of great courage and intellect above his rank in life”.* Prosser planned a large slave rebellion, but an informant leaked news of the revolt. He was captured and executed along with twenty-five of his collaborators. In response to the rebellion, an anxious state legislature passed laws restricting the chances of slaves learning to read or travel freely (and plan similar rebellions).
Of course, John Steele knew about the plots. He was kept apprised of slave rebellions by the newspapers. Taverns were where people went to find out about the news. Tavern owners were expected to know what was happening in the wider world. Within the confines of local taverns, citizens sat around and discussed community and national concerns among themselves and with weary travelers.
I don’t know if my ancestor, John Steele, owned slaves. Although his two sisters and his father owned slaves, records of slaveholders in the Steeles Tavern area don’t list a John Steele. No family letters shed light on John having slaves. In spite of the large box of family papers resting in my closet, I don’t even know what John thought about slavery. But even if John didn’t own slaves, he lived within a slave-holding community. His livelihood was connected to the economy around him. He’d need help on his farm and in the mill. Even if he didn’t own slaves, he may have paid other slave owners for the use of their field hands and servants.
I keep circling the workings of the law trying to find a way to understand my ancestors. How had slavery become part of their lives? What was the moment when owning another human being became normal? From everything I’ve learned about the Steeles, they seem to have been educated, capable, God-fearing, freedom-loving patriots. What were they thinking?
***
The case of Dred Scott, which John Steele would’ve followed with keen interest, established that Americans of African descent were not citizens and therefore couldn’t sue for freedom. John Marshall was long gone from the court by then. Chief Justice Taney explained the ruling by claiming the Constitution supported a barrier between the races with the black race “reduced to slavery.” Dred Scott had tried to argue that he’d resided in a free state and territory and so he should be a free man. The Taney court not only ruled against him, they broadened the scope of the trial to conclude that the Missouri Compromise of 1820 was unconstitutional. Constitutional scholars considered Taney’s ruling to be the worst decision ever rendered by the Supreme Court. By this ruling, Chief Justice Tanner hoped to transform a political issue into settled law. John Brown's raid on Harpers Ferry proved him wrong. All hell broke out two years later.
After studying law with John Coalter, John Steele returned home without opening a law practice. Family lore spins the reason for John’s return to Steeles Tavern as that of filial devotion. His parents needed John to come home and run the family farm and mill. But I’m not so sure this version of the story reflects the whole truth. David Steele spent a small fortune educating his son. Why go through all that trouble just to bring John home again? Could there have been other reasons that John didn’t practice law? Maybe John couldn’t make it as a lawyer? After all, there was a glut of young attorneys practicing in Virginia at the time. Was the competition too stiff? Maybe John discovered he wasn’t cut out to be an attorney. Maybe he discovered that he didn’t like the legal profession. But then again, he could’ve come home to Steeles Tavern because he loved the place. Perhaps he preferred watching the mill wheel turn to grind flour than a lifetime of drawing up wills. Maybe he loved raising sheep and digging in the dirt. Perhaps he missed helping his father out at the tavern. Later, John became the first postmaster of “Midway,” which then became known as “Steeles Tavern.” He was also appointed as a federal Marshall, a position that required some knowledge of the law.
As a federal marshal, John was taxed with enforcing federal laws in the Valley of Virginia. What did that mean for John? Did he usher illegal aliens out of the county? Did he arrest bad guys when they crossed the state line? As Marshall, John Steele dealt with criminals wanted by the federal government. If needed, he could appoint deputies or swear in a posse to assist with manhunts. The Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 tasked marshals with accepting an affidavit to recover fugitive slaves. Was this part of John’s work in the Valley? How did he feel about recapturing slaves?
The most time-consuming part of his job was the paperwork—serving subpoenas, summonses, and warrants. From his time with Coalter, he must’ve known his way around legal papers. He performed other duties for the central government that required competence such as collecting information on commerce and manufacturing for the government. John was responsible for conducting the national census in his district. Marshals paid the expenses and handled the fees of the court clerks and attorneys. They were expected to attend the circuit and the district courts in their district. They made sure the prisoners were present, the jurors available, and that the witnesses showed up on time. They rented the courtrooms and jail spaces.
As the census man, Postmaster, and Marshall—as well as a local farmer, miller and tavern owner—John must’ve known most of the citizens of Augusta County! He certainly knew the judges and the attorneys involved in governmental affairs. He was well-connected. The First Congress expected federal marshals to hold their positions for four years, but John held his position as Marshal for most of his working life.
After clerking for John Coalter, John Steele married Eliza Moon, a young woman from a prominent family in Scottsville, Virginia. He built Eliza one of the first brick houses in the Valley. Eliza wrote to her sister-in-law, Jenny, who was living in Kentucky, that "she had the promise of a home of her own ln the spring.“ (Goeller) John and Eliza Moon Steele raised twelve children in their new brick house. The house sheltered the next two generations of my line of Steeles. It still stands in Steeles Tavern today.
Eliza and John Steeles home
In the decades following the turn of the nineteenth century, John and Eliza enjoyed a life full of family and church activities and other social engagements. According to Aunt Mildred (The Steeles of Steeles Tavern), John owned much of the land surrounding Steeles Tavern. He and Eliza realized a relatively comfortable life, which was significantly more financially secure than the post-Civil War generation.
Half of his children scattered across the country, some of them prospering; others hitting hard times. John’s eldest son and heir seems to have escaped the financial devastation of many Southerners after the Civil War and passed the small but lively town of Steeles Tavern along to his two surviving children, Irene and Frank. His daughter, Irene, eventually invested a large part of her inheritance in building a Southern mansion (The Steeles Tavern Manor) and for a time her seven children thrived, most of them attending colleges and entering into viable careers and a pleasant social life. My grandmother, Edith, went to Pratt Institute in New York City. Irene and Frank Steele
Family of Walter and Irene Steele Searson
The Depression hit the Valley hard. Amid other setbacks, the Steeles underwent troubling financial losses. Failing to consult a lawyer, Irene died without a will. Her six surviving children sold off her possessions at a public auction. The house sold for a song. John and Eliza Moon Steele were arguably the most prosperous of my line of Steeles.
Society changed at a head-spinning tempo during the nineteenth century. The industrial sector grew; small, diversified family farms not so much. Laws cemented slavery and then outlawed slavery. People grew rich and then poor, and sometimes rich again. Patterns of social behavior kept changing. Dances could hardly keep up with the shifting social fashions, reflecting society's ever-changing expectations. John Steele witnessed these changes, living through the formation of the American legal system, the inventions that transformed industry and agriculture, the ongoing western resettlement, and the end of the era of southern, slaveholding elites. Through all of these changes, I can only hope that John and Eliza kept dancing.
I want to think of John and Eliza pushing the furniture against the walls to host dances in the lovely brick house where they raised their twelve children. I want to imagine them dancing country dances in long lines or in squares for cotillions. I want to picture them dancing hornpipes and jigs. When John and Eliza’s children came of age, I see them indulging in the controversial Waltz (don't stand so close!). Or perhaps the more wholesome, good-natured Polka that introduced dancers to the pleasure of spinning in each other's arms. As the twentieth century neared, John’s grandchildren, including mygrandmother, Edith, would've danced the two-Step to the new Ragtime music.
Edith Steele Searson
Mildred, Fair, Edith
My grandmother, who was born in the year 1900, certainly spent time in social circles dancing the Charleston and the Fox-Trot. The Staunton newspapers record dozens of dance parties that my grandmother and her sisters attended.Their parents, Irene and Walter occasionally hosted large parties. The hearty embrace of parties and dancing speaks loads about my family. They were generally social, outward-looking, energetic people. I treasure this inheritance.
The Steele-Searson Clan
My dad could sure dance! As a youth, my father took weekly dance classes, taught by his Aunt Kitty, a socialite who was once entertained by the McCormick family in Chicago before moving to the backwater country town of Steeles Tavern. dance floor. From Aunt Kitty, my dad learned to glide across the floor as if he’d been born to dance. He could really turn on the charm. Women loved to partner with him at the Big Band college dances. Even in his sixties, he remained a big hit on the dance floor at New Year’s Eve parties. I have never danced with anyone who could so effortlessly lead his partner around the dance floor.
My parents Cora and Kemp Hawpe My grandchildren might live to see the turn of the next century. How will American jurisprudence have changed by then? What will be the shape of the Constitution in the year 2100? What will society value? Will my great-grandchildren grow up in a democracy? Will they be inventors, or farmers, or lawyers?
I hope they know how to celebrate even in uncertain times. I hope they remember their heritage. And if I have any say in the matter, they will know how to dance the Virginia reel! Keep dancing!
Dancing with my niece!
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To learn the Virginia reel:
Steeles Tavern Manor: https://www.steelestavern.com/
Bibliography
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Howe, Daniel Walker What Hath God Wrought? The Transformation of America, 1815-1848. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009.
White, G. Edward. The American Judicial Tradition: Profiles of Leading American Judges. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Wineapple, Brenda. Ecstatic Nation: Confidence, Crisis, and Compromise, 1848-1877. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2013.
Wood, Gordon S. Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early Republic, 1789-1815. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009.
Internet
"The Steeles of Steeles Tavern, Virginia and Related Familes," by Mildred Goeller (pdf on ancestry.com available or purchase on amazon)
*The Prosser quote is from Gabriel's Rebellion: The Virginia Conspiracies of 1800 and 1802. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. pp. 21–22. ISBN 978-0-8078-4422-9.
Federal Marshalls:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Marshals_Service