Jim Participates in the Abolition Walk

As with most people who have lived more than three-quarters of a century, I have a few pet peeves. I’m aggrieved that we don’t use math classes to teach kids the skills they need to avoid making terrible financial decisions as adults because they don’t know better. (If someone knows and wants to make the same bad decisions, I cringe, but it’s their choice.) Another thing that concerns me is our general woeful lack of knowledge about history, and willingness to believe politicians with historical “facts.”

For example, did you know that the maximum federal estate tax was 77% from 1941 through 1976? Yup, and most states had estate taxes as well. The top marginal federal income tax rate hit 94% in 1944-45! It stayed at 70% or above from 1936 through 1980. Keep that in mind when today's gazillionaires complain about today’s “ruinous” tax rates.

My son, daughter, one sister, and me being recognized at the
2025 Abolition Walk as descendants of James Caleb Jackson

Which leads me to another area where many are blowing smoke: slavery and the Civil War in the United States. The secession of the states that formed the Confederacy was driven by concerns by the wealthy slaveholders that the Republican Party, antislavery as they were, would strip them of their major asset: other humans that they owned. Oh sure, the southern states had other grievances, but their articles of secession mention only slavery.

And those living in the northern states often paint their history as righteously against slavery. They ignore that New England ships took part in the slave trade, and that until well into the 1850s anti-slavery movements were despised more than approved. Just as today when both sides of many issues cherry-pick Bible verses to “prove” their point, Americans were passionately doing the same with slavery. Which brings me to the Abolition Walk.

In 1835, 600 delegates met at a Presbyterian church in Utica, New York to organize the New York State Anti-Slavery Society. (The City of Utica revoked its previously issued permit to meet at the City Hall, and members of the church arranged the changed venue.) My great-great-great-grandfather James Caleb Jackson was a delegate. A large group of anti-abolitionist protesters, led by Congressman Samuel Beardsley, threatened violence, including burning down the building, unless the meeting dispersed. (They cited the slavery provisions in the Constitution for their justification, ignoring the assembly and free speech provisions in the same constitution.)

Gerrit Smith invited the delegates to reconvene the following day in Peterboro, NY (about thirty miles away). Some had carriages or horses. Jackson did not, having walked to Utica from his farm in Mexico, NY. He, and a William M. Clark of Syracuse, convinced an Erie Canal packet boat to load up with 104 men and take them to Canastota, the city closest to Peterboro. Then the two of them led the group on foot for the 9.1 miles from the canal to Peterboro. As they got close, Jackson went on ahead (i.e. walked faster up the hills—Peterboro is about 900’ higher than Canastota) to arrange breakfast for 100 at a tavern. Later that day, Jackson was one of the signers of the articles forming the NYS Anti-Slavery Society.

Peterboro is home to the National Abolition Hall ofFame and Museum. Some of those involved with the museum created an annual commemorative walk to remember these events. This being the 190th anniversary—and as a former actuary knowing the likelihood of my making it to celebrate the bicentennial of the event is not great—I convinced most of our small family to join me on the walk. There are only five living ancestors of James Caleb Jackson. Four of the five of us made it, and Jan came along with me, so we had five participating in this year’s walk.

The weather was cool and sunny, great for walking the 5.4 miles (up to Clocksville and back). Jackson’s name and picture are on the historical markers present in both Canastota and Clocksville that provide information about the walk. His memoir provides the only extant first-person account of the walk.

During the day, I talked with many of the participants, organizers of the event, caretakers of the Abolition Hall of Fame and Museum, descendants of former slaves whose ancestors had taken the Underground Railroad to the area, and others, like us, keeping the memory alive, knowing there is still work to be done.

Someone asked me if I was proud to walk in the footsteps of my ancestor. My answer was no; I was humbled to walk in his steps. James Caleb Jackson was twenty-four years old. Some are born to lead.

History shows that serious issues affecting nations are significantly more complex than suggested by the black and white of social media and news headlines. Historical novels, and even contemporary thrillers like I write, can explore that complexity when they incorporate issues such as militias, illegal immigrants, big corporations, the environment, and different rules for the powerful and the powerless.

Writers, how do you handle those issues? Readers, what books have you read that did a good job addressing complex issues without turning preachy?

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James M. Jackson writes justice-driven thrillers with brains and bite, including the Niki Undercover Thriller series and the Seamus McCree series. To learn more information about Jim and his books, check out his website, https://jamesmjackson.com. You can sign up for his newsletter (and get to read two free short stories, one featuring Niki and Seamus and the other taking place at Seamus’s camp in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula).

Did She Fall or Was She Pushed? By Jeannette de Beauvior

I’ve always liked bleak stories, and the lyrics to Linda and Richard Thompson’s Did She Jump or Was She Pushed have been playing in the back of my mind lately. Provincetown—where I live, and where my current mystery series takes place—is gearing up for the 400^th anniversary of the arrival of the Mayflower and the signing of the Compact in our harbor, and I’m contemplating a very real mystery that accompanies the story.

Of course, I’m always poking around history for stories. Nearly every mystery I write has some sort of historical component, because I’m fascinated with the idea of secrets. We all keep them: individuals, communities, groups, countries. And once in a while, the fear of having them revealed can lead to murder.

History and place are tightly connected. I suppose I could make up a place and make up a history to go with it, but why go to all that effort? The truth is, many if not most places have secrets, have something dark in their pasts, have events and situations that could very well make for a modern-day mystery. Once in a while I stop myself and acknowledge, You can’t make this stuff up. If I tried, it wouldn’t be nearly as good.

Take the first book in my series about Martine LeDuc, PR director for Montréal, in which four women have been murdered. Martine discovers they were all looking into the city’s past, when orphans were transferred to a psychiatric hospital and made the subjects of medical experimentation in collusion with the CIA’s MK-Ultra program. All the murdered women have a connection to these historic situations, and were killed to keep someone else’s role from becoming public. Martine finds herself standing between the killer and his getting away with it all, and—as any mystery reader knows—that’s not a good place to be.

You can’t make this stuff up. MK-Ultra even has a Wikipedia page, for heaven’s sake, but no-one seems to know about it.

And then there’s Sydney Riley, the protagonist in my current series. She’s the wedding planner for an inn here in Provincetown, but she has a nasty habit of finding whatever dead bodies happen to show up in this tourist destination. The most recent book in the series, A Fatal Folly, draws on the sinking of the very real pirate ship Whydah off Cape Cod—and who wouldn’t kill for pirate treasure?

Which brings us to 2020 and the question: did she fall or was she pushed? Most kids learn about the Mayflower in school, but what they don’t learn about is the absolute danger and misery of the crossing. It took 66 days from September to November—the worst weather imaginable, with storms and high seas; everyone was seasick; going up on deck was a dangerous respite from the crowded conditions below (the Mayflower had taken on the passengers from the leaking Speedwell and so was significantly overcrowded). All in all, a beastly time was had by all.

We know about the Mayflower voyage and the first few weeks in the New World from the diary of one William Bradford, who later became the first governor of Massachusetts and who came across with his wife, Dorothy May, who apparently was able to survive the wintry Atlantic crossing perfectly well. The ship anchored in Provincetown Harbor, the men went off to explore the area, and Dorothy slipped off the deck and drowned.

Really? She survived the storms, the sleet, the waves, and once the ship was at anchor in one of the world’s most protected harbors, she slipped and drowned? Is anyone here thinking? And then sometime in the 1800s a novelist got hold of the story and posited suicide as the real cause of her death. Again, really?

Unfortunately, there’s no way to know what actually happened. I’ve tried, and primary-source documents are few—and mostly biased. I probably won’t write about it, because when I incorporate history into my novels I want it to be as accurate as possible, but honestly… did she fall or was she pushed?

And to me, this is the place where being a mystery novelist and being a human being come together. Not many people outside of Montréal knew of the Duplessis Orphans, or of WW2’s Operation Fish; I told their story. Not many people outside of Provincetown knew of the Whydah, or the Portuguese fishermen and their losses, or of the AIDS deaths here; I tell their stories. History is as alive as we keep it, and there are so many voices that deserve to be heard. And if we can weave it all into a captivating mystery… so much the better!

Award-winning author Jeannette de Beauvoir writes mystery and historical fiction (or a combination thereof!) that’s been translated into 12 languages. A Booksense Book-of-the-Year finalist, she’s a member of the Authors Guild, the Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the National Writers Union.

All her novels are firmly rooted in a sense of place, and her delight is to find characters true to the spaces in which they live. She herself lives and writes in a cottage in Provincetown, on Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and loves the collection of people who assemble at a place like land’s end.

The Sydney Riley Provincetown mystery series is in its fifth installment on with the release of A Fatal Folly in November. The next book in the series, The Matinée Murders, will be coming out in June 2020.

She also teaches writing courses both online and onsite.

Find out more—and read her blog—at her website. You can also find her on Facebook, Instagram, Patreon, Amazon, and Goodreads.