Simone Cooper: How A Blind, Autistic Slave Boy Made White House History
[Ms. Cooper is the publicist for Deirdre O'Connell's biography, The Ballad of Blind Tom Wiggins, Slave Pianist.]
When the much-hallowed Abraham Lincoln was a still presidential candidate, there lived in Georgia a blind, autistic slave boy with a flawless memory. Folks came far and wide to marvel at how he never forgot a thing.
At the ripe old age of 11, he made White House history. Yet, today, as another milestone is marked, who even remembers him?
“Blind Tom” was born Thomas Greene, died Thomas Wiggins, and for much of the time in between, was known as Thomas Bethune, his changing surname a measure not of his genealogy but slave status.
By the time he arrived in Washington in the summer of 1860, he had been sold on the auction block by a master unwilling to shoulder a “useless burden;” installed in the “Big House” under the watchful eye of another master who saw in him the stirrings of a musical prodigy; and licensed out to a Barnum-style showman who touted him as “The Wonder of the World, The Marvel of the Age.”
And, indeed, Blind Tom’s powers were inexplicably fantastic. As well as a flawless memory, he had an all-consuming passion for sound and a mind-boggling ability to replicate – musically and vocally – anything he heard. Thunderstorms were a particular favorite, as were banjos, fiddles, politicians and trains.
The showman who peddled him insisted that Tom had been a perfectly formed musician from the moment he first touched the piano, and could reproduce the most difficult works after a single hearing. This was a partial truth. Even after years of music tuition, Tom struggled to reproduce complex polymorphic concertos after one listen. (He needed an entire afternoon to accomplish that). But if presented with a recognizable harmony - a polka, waltz, slave song or minstrel hit – young Tom could easily nail it. As the surge of applause hit his ear, he would howl back at the audience and handspring across the stage. Those lucky enough to attend the private viewing at Washington’s Willard Hotel had never seen anything like him.
Tales of Blind Tom’s exploits electrified the nation’s capital.
A bevy of Southern politicians’ wives were determined to see if the marvelous claims were true and a soiree was arranged at the home of Washington doyenne, Eugenia Phillips. The slave prodigy did not disappoint, playing secondo on a four-handed Rossini arrangement he had never heard before.
A musically-minded guest by the name of Harriet Lane was so impressed that a repeat performance was arranged at her place of residence. The niece and ward of James Buchanan, America’s only bachelor president, Lane by default was America's First Lady. During her time in the executive mansion, she had staged some star-studded music receptions, although the historical significance of her next guest most likely eluded her: Blind Tom was the first African-American performer to officially grace the White House.
The only surviving account of Tom’s historic performance comes courtesy of Alabama socialite, Virginia Clay who was, at first, repelled by the “horrible grimaces” on his face. But repugnance gave way to disbelief when Tom angrily drew back and bellowed to the young lady alongside him, “You cheat me! You cheat me!” Apparently, during their duet, the girl had skipped a page of sheet music.
Clay was thunderstruck. No slave addressed the “master race” with such barefaced impertinence - nor did they get away with it. But remarkably Tom did. He was forever pushing belles off piano stools or commanding them to “hash” with impunity. He was even known to pummel a music teacher for asking too many questions. In the racially oppressive South, this made him an unlikely hero amongst the other slaves - a lone figure who had no fear of White authority and spoke without censure.
In fact, Tom was as oblivious to the slaves’ admiration as he was to Mrs. Clay’s ire (and his manager’s many deceptions).
“The world he perceived was alive with vibration", says his biographer, Deirdre O'Connell, in her new book, The Ballad of Blind Tom Wiggins, Slave Pianist. "His ear was so sensitive he could ‘see’ objects around him – but he knew nothing of concepts like ‘slavery’ and ‘secession.’
“Sure, he understood some people were Black and others White, but this meant no more to him than the different colored keys on the piano. Music was the only thing that mattered and this he heard in the roll of the thunder, patter of the rain, roar of the crowd, twitter of gossip and belch of the big-mouthed guns."
Throughout Abraham Lincoln’s Civil War presidency and for many decades after, Blind Tom toured the nation, all the while soaking up the turbulent world around him – battles, machines, thunderstorms and days of jubilee - and reflected it back in sound, recalling each moment with the same matter-of-fact clarity as he remembered his historic White House performance.
When the much-hallowed Abraham Lincoln was a still presidential candidate, there lived in Georgia a blind, autistic slave boy with a flawless memory. Folks came far and wide to marvel at how he never forgot a thing.
At the ripe old age of 11, he made White House history. Yet, today, as another milestone is marked, who even remembers him?“Blind Tom” was born Thomas Greene, died Thomas Wiggins, and for much of the time in between, was known as Thomas Bethune, his changing surname a measure not of his genealogy but slave status.
By the time he arrived in Washington in the summer of 1860, he had been sold on the auction block by a master unwilling to shoulder a “useless burden;” installed in the “Big House” under the watchful eye of another master who saw in him the stirrings of a musical prodigy; and licensed out to a Barnum-style showman who touted him as “The Wonder of the World, The Marvel of the Age.”
And, indeed, Blind Tom’s powers were inexplicably fantastic. As well as a flawless memory, he had an all-consuming passion for sound and a mind-boggling ability to replicate – musically and vocally – anything he heard. Thunderstorms were a particular favorite, as were banjos, fiddles, politicians and trains.
The showman who peddled him insisted that Tom had been a perfectly formed musician from the moment he first touched the piano, and could reproduce the most difficult works after a single hearing. This was a partial truth. Even after years of music tuition, Tom struggled to reproduce complex polymorphic concertos after one listen. (He needed an entire afternoon to accomplish that). But if presented with a recognizable harmony - a polka, waltz, slave song or minstrel hit – young Tom could easily nail it. As the surge of applause hit his ear, he would howl back at the audience and handspring across the stage. Those lucky enough to attend the private viewing at Washington’s Willard Hotel had never seen anything like him.
Tales of Blind Tom’s exploits electrified the nation’s capital.
A bevy of Southern politicians’ wives were determined to see if the marvelous claims were true and a soiree was arranged at the home of Washington doyenne, Eugenia Phillips. The slave prodigy did not disappoint, playing secondo on a four-handed Rossini arrangement he had never heard before.
A musically-minded guest by the name of Harriet Lane was so impressed that a repeat performance was arranged at her place of residence. The niece and ward of James Buchanan, America’s only bachelor president, Lane by default was America's First Lady. During her time in the executive mansion, she had staged some star-studded music receptions, although the historical significance of her next guest most likely eluded her: Blind Tom was the first African-American performer to officially grace the White House.
The only surviving account of Tom’s historic performance comes courtesy of Alabama socialite, Virginia Clay who was, at first, repelled by the “horrible grimaces” on his face. But repugnance gave way to disbelief when Tom angrily drew back and bellowed to the young lady alongside him, “You cheat me! You cheat me!” Apparently, during their duet, the girl had skipped a page of sheet music.
Clay was thunderstruck. No slave addressed the “master race” with such barefaced impertinence - nor did they get away with it. But remarkably Tom did. He was forever pushing belles off piano stools or commanding them to “hash” with impunity. He was even known to pummel a music teacher for asking too many questions. In the racially oppressive South, this made him an unlikely hero amongst the other slaves - a lone figure who had no fear of White authority and spoke without censure.
In fact, Tom was as oblivious to the slaves’ admiration as he was to Mrs. Clay’s ire (and his manager’s many deceptions).
“The world he perceived was alive with vibration", says his biographer, Deirdre O'Connell, in her new book, The Ballad of Blind Tom Wiggins, Slave Pianist. "His ear was so sensitive he could ‘see’ objects around him – but he knew nothing of concepts like ‘slavery’ and ‘secession.’
“Sure, he understood some people were Black and others White, but this meant no more to him than the different colored keys on the piano. Music was the only thing that mattered and this he heard in the roll of the thunder, patter of the rain, roar of the crowd, twitter of gossip and belch of the big-mouthed guns."
Throughout Abraham Lincoln’s Civil War presidency and for many decades after, Blind Tom toured the nation, all the while soaking up the turbulent world around him – battles, machines, thunderstorms and days of jubilee - and reflected it back in sound, recalling each moment with the same matter-of-fact clarity as he remembered his historic White House performance.