John+Brown

Appearance:
 * Name**: John Brown
 * Age**: 50 years old (from 1850), Born May 9th, 1800
 * Gender**: Male
 * Occupation**: Tannery, Cattle Trade, Horse and Sheep Breeding, Wool[[image:mr_7_f1.jpg width="293" height="364" align="right" caption="Later, I grow a wicked Beard (c.1846)"]]
 * Social Class**: Middle Class
 * Financial Situation**: Somewhat poor, many of his businesses went bankrupt due to Panic of 1937


 * Location**: North Elba, New York
 * Daily Routine**: Tend the farm, raise his children, attend Abolitionism meetings, etc.
 * Personality/Quirks/Unique Personality Traits**: Very, very radical. Was one of the few white men who truly considered African Americans to be equal, and believed they should be free. Would do anything to prove his point.
 * Past/Individual and family history**: His father owned a tannery, and after failing to become a minister, John Brown decided to take up the tannery business. Economic difficulties denied this and this led him to quit his job to become a full-time abolitionist. Tried to raise an African American child to prove that a black child could be raised into a normal person.
 * Family:** Wife Dianthe Lusk, 20 Children
 * Social relations with others:** Had many African American supporters, along with Abolitionists. Fredrick Douglass considered him "too radical." Is considered a hero for the abolitionist movement. Hated by pretty much all of the pro-slavery south
 * Religion:** Christianity
 * Education**: Minor education
 * Conflicts/Enemies**: Pretty much anyone who believes in slavery...

This is his story:


 * Journal #1**

April 27th, 1851, Partly Cloudy. Boston, Mass. Another day in Boston... City's been running amok looking for escaped slaves from the south. Luckily, we get some of them nice and snug over at McNulty's bar. A secret compartment under the cupboard, cozy and warm for the chilly April wind.

The Abolitionist meetings are going well. Theodore Parker suggested to the group that we warn the colored people that they're being hunted down like boars, so we painted the whole town with broadsides.

Not bad work for one day, eh? All you people running from the plantations and such, I wish you all the best luck.

The new Fugitive Slave Law is quite the most ridiculous piece of legislature that I have ever heard in my life, and trust me, I have heard a lot of things in my time. It basically makes the African Americans, human beings like anyone else, physical property of those dirty lazy Southerners. And they don't even get a court hearing! Once a person claims that they recognize a black man as an escaped slave, he basically gets deported back down south. We gotta do something about this!

I had the misfortune of seeing the law in action today... Samantha Freemon, one of our younger ones, was taken away today. She stepped outside McNulty's for some fresh air, but was spotted by some hotshot rich Southern cur. With just a point, Poor lil Sammy was taken right before her parents' eyes. I tried my best in constraining Mr. Freemon from revealing his position, but my arms were no match for his strength... I watched in horror as he ran up to the watchman and smacked him right in the throat. In the ensuing madness we successfully got Sammy to a safe hiding place, but... I'm afraid Mr. Freemon has been captured by the police, and will probably be executed. His sacrifice was brave, and will not be in vain. We must put an end to this madness.

I wonder how Dianthe is doing? And the boys? I hope they are well...

John Brown

**Journal #2 -** The year is now 1852. Continue your story as you began in Journal #1. For this journal entry and all subsequent entries, you must interact with at least two other characters in each journal entry. When you interact with another character, provide a hyperlink to that character's page in your journal entry

October 16th, 2852. Slight Drizzle, Boston, Mass.

Arrived at Boston again to check up on things. It seems that McNulty's Bar was compromised as a safehouse for runaways... Tavish, McKinley, and the Doyles were caught and arrested for assisting in the escape of black slaves. These brave men and women knew the risks and are patiently awaiting trial, unlike our black brothers and sisters who immediately get shipped back down to the hellish South. Your sacrifices will not be in vain.

We still have plenty of support from around the city. I met up with a certain Mr. Biff McGee, a very powerful man who owns a booming textile factory in the middle of Boston. Upon hearing that he was an avid Whig Abolitionist, I called a meeting with him. He looked like the epitome of wealth, with his double chin and neat attire; compared to him, I was just a humble farmer from Connecticut. I inquired on his stance on Abolitionism and the status of our black brothers. Luckily, we shared similar views. We struck up a deal that benefited both parties: Mr. McGee agrees to harbor and protect runaway slaves and other black peoples, while he receives extra manpower in his factory. Upon striking the deal, however, I had my doubts that he would keep his end of the deal. What if he treats the men unfairly? What if he doesn't pay them at all? What if McGee turns them in to the authorities? Well, I decided to take a gamble and trust this man... Have I made the right choice?

After our agreement, I decided to visit the factory and particularly chat with the workers there. They were mostly white males with rough, strange accents... foreigners, no doubt. However, I did spot some black workers. I met one of the harder working ones, who introduced himself as Jim Jackson. As I shook his hand I felt the thick calluses of his palms that were undoubtedly from years of backbreaking agrarian work. I felt saddened and disgusted how a human being could treat another living, breathing man this way. I introduced myself as a supporter for black freedom and inquired about his life. I was intrigued about what he had to say. Born a slave in the south, he spent most of his life plowing the cotton fields with his family. One day, however, he escaped the plantation and made his way to Boston, where he worked for McGee ever since. He spoke of a desire to see his family again, wherever they are. I was truly moved, he was working hard to earn his living and find his family, even though hope seemed lost. I told Jim that I and my fellow abolitionist members would try our hardest to help find his family. Upon hearing these words Jim lit up, thanked me, and shook my hand vigorously. He looked a full 10 years younger than he was. I was glad that such simple words of support could lift up such a sad man.

I left the factory with the warm fuzzy feeling of helping a fellow man. If such simple things bring happiness, why the heck would we need slavery for?

I must go, the abolitionist meeting is about to begin,

John Brown

**Journal #3 -** It's 1854... the Kansas-Nebraska Act has passed. Squatters are now moving into Kansas in an attempt to sway the vote. Continue your story...

May 14th, 1854. Dry and sunny, Franklin County, Kansas

Today we set a perimeter around the fort. I hand my boys Owen, Frederick, Oliver, Watson a rifle and to keep a lookout. I saw one of those twisters yesterday, nasty looking things they are. Kansas truly seems to be a harsh environment. I look around myself, Oliver is polishing his Smith & Wesson volcanic pistol, Watson is sleeping under the shade, Owen and Frederick are discussing about the integrity of the nation... I smile softly. Just half a month ago I was peacefully tanning my hides in my farm up in North Elba... How did we get here?

It was a cloudy day in New York. I received word of a new law, the Kansas-Nebraska Act, was passed, which basically creates two new territories - Kansas and Nebraska - and allows settlers to decide whether or not slavery would be allowed within the areas through popular sovereignty. As I predicted, pro-slavery supporters, or as we call them the "Border Ruffians," began to rush into Kansas in order to cheat the system. My boy John Jr., who lived in Kansas at the time, wrote in a letter that described the Border Ruffians as violent, militant, and belligerent. I sent out a word to all my sons, grabbed my rifle, said goodbye to the Missus, and began my journey southwest to Kansas. There's no way I'd let these mongrels hurt my family, and there's no way in **//hell//** I'd let these mangy curs make Kansas a vessel for slavery.

As I continued my journey to Kansas, I made a few stops by Abolitionist meetings and protests along the way. On one of my stops I met a familiar face: Fredrick Douglass, a popular and effective Abolitionist against the war against slavery and author of The North Star, an abolitionist weekly newspaper. I had a series of meetings with him in the past, and we shared similar ideas. Douglass is a marvelous fellow with a bright future ahead of him. I told him about the situation in Kansas and asked for his support to join my "army" against the Ruffians, but he seemed shocked and appalled by my "violent" approach towards abolitionism. I laughed, and explained that thousands of our black brothers are being whipped and tortured every hour, and yet what are we doing here in the North? Writing newspapers and protesting all peaceful-like? No offense to Mr. Douglass, but if you want something done, sometimes the only way to do it is to get your hands down and dirty. Other than that, we caught up by discussing recent events, from the Fugitive Slave Act to the Kansas-Nebraska Act. I mentioned the situation my family was in, and he wished me all the luck in the world.

During the numerous protest and meetings I attended on the way to Kansas, I often found myself asking for support and help from the general population. Only a few brave young men volunteered to come with me to tackle these Border Ruffians. On the plus side, I received support in the form of monetary donations, supplies, and weapons. Within a few weeks, my makeshift "army" found itself stepping into the dusty earth of Kansas.

And here we are, me and my men getting ready for everything and anything. I will do anything it takes to make sure my family stays safe, and for the eventual freedom of our black brothers and sisters.

Alas, I must stop my scrawl, I see fresh meat in the horizon,

John Brown

**Journal #4 -** It's now 1856. Bleeding Kansas has just taken place and John Brown emerged on to the scene. Buchanan was just elected as the US President. Dred Scott is arrested and is about to be brought to trial. Continue your story.


 * May 23th, 1856. Franklin County, Kansas. Thunderstorms**

They sacked Lawrence! Those southern curs destroyed part of an anti-slavery town! Led by a SHERIFF-led posse of around 750 strong, no less. They hacked two printing presses, private homes, and the Free State Hotel. Thank god no one was hurt. My boy Owen was there that day and told me all about it. Is there no honor among cowards? Although there were no fatalities, we must consider that there could have been. This is war, after all, and in war, anything can happen. Those cursed border ruffians had malicious intent, and I hope to God that they know what's coming for them.

Elsewhere, I read in the papers about some kinda tussle in the Senate. Apparently Congressman Preston Brooks -- a pro-slavery supporter, no less -- nearly caned Senator Charles Sumner to death. Now, mind you, Senator Sumner vouched for an end to slavery, and I will view this incident as the same as the incident in Lawrence. Just what is this country coming to, fighting in a government establishment like that?

The whole of the United States of America is being divided in two, and all this tension ain't no good for the nation. What if the south secede? Well, if they ask to leave, they'll have my rifle to answer to.

I am pleased to announce that my ragtag group of freedom fighters is now the size of a company. Morale is high in our group, and many of the lads speak about retaliation for the sacking of Lawrence as early as tonight. Well, why not? It's time we give these pro-slavery snakes a taste of their own medicine...


 * EDIT: May 25th, 1856. Osawatomie, Kansas. Bleeding Rain**

The night before we rounded up 5 pro-slavery maggots from Osawatomie in the middle of the night and hacked them to pieces with broadswords, not unlike how they hacked up Lawrence. I made sure they were dead by shooting each of them in the head with my pistol. I hope you all burn in hell, curs

The only way to fight violence is with more violence. It is an unstoppable circle and it is useless to resist it. That is what Fredrick Douglass, no matter how brilliant he is, failed to see: peace can never stop violence. That is why we fight here in Kansas


 * September 7th, 1856. Lawrence, Kansas. Clear skies.**

I have just received word that the new governor of Kansas, John W. Geary, ordered both sides of the war to form an armistice. Aw shucks, it was getting good, too! Those Border Ruffians were just about to be eliminated, and then some random suit comes and tells us to lower our weapons? Just remember, supporters of slavery, this is not over.

How did I end up in Lawrence? On August 38th, 1856, me and my 38 men found ourselves pinned under fire on the outskirts of Osawatomie from a company of over three hundred Missourians under the command of Major General John W. Reid. We were outnumbered almost ten to one, but I ordered my men to attack behind natural fortifications such as rocks and trees. I'm pretty sure we took out a good chunk of the Major General's company, I'd say about 70 men were hit? Soon afterwords I told my men to regroup and then ultimately retreat back to Lawrence. Those stupid Missourians only managed to capture 5 of my men. Not a bad exchange, eh? As we reached Lawrence we were met by a huge number of anti-slavery forces. It truly was a sight to see all those lads eager to fight for justice and what is right.

Well, basically we've been sitting here awaiting an attack from Missourians, border ruffians, whatever rocks they've got to throw. But then Gov'nor Geary spoils all the fun. Like I said before, this is far from over.

**Journal #5** - The year is 1860. Lincoln was just elected as US President, prompting South Carolina to secede. Write the next chapter in your story.

IN MEMORY OF JOHN BROWN MAY 9, 1800 - DECEMBER 2, 1859 HUSBAND, FATHER, BROTHER, FRIEND, MARTYR YOUR DEATH WILL NOT BE IN VAIN

...Is what it says on his tombstone. My father, John Brown, died a hero.

Now it's been almost 4 months since his execution, and most of the North has mourned his passing. Not just the North, but the whole world. Right before my father's execution, Victor Hugo, the author of //the Hunchback of Notre Dame// wrote a letter asking the US government to pardon John Brown for his crimes. Fancy that! It warms my heart to know that my father's actions reached all over the world, attracting the attention of the most famous of names.

The Brown family has been doing well so far, we moved to Red Bluff, California to escape the attack of the vengeful South, and trust me, there were quite a few attacks... Just the other day a few people recognized Mother, and we had to flee for our lives again.

And now we just heard that Abraham Lincoln was elected president of the United States! It is what my father would have wanted. They also say that South Carolina seceded from the Union? Is that true? I must look into it further...

John Brown has truly revolutionized the Abolitionist Movement. He might be called a terrorist, but his actions were justified. Just think about the slave owners that whipped, tortured, and killed all those human beings?

Even though the man has died, the abolitionist movement is far from over. Father gave up his life for this cause, and I will do my best to continue his work.

Owen Brown.