In 1855 Georgia, such children were deeply fraught with superstition, both among whites and slaves. Many believed they brought on crop failures, saw ghosts, and were marked by divine punishment. Mixing African and European ancestry was common on plantations, but albinism created an uncomfortable ambiguity that contradicted the racial categories upon which the entire system was based.
When the bidding started at $20, not a single hand rose. Peetton lowered it repeatedly until it reached $5. Still nothing. People turned away, some making the sign against evil. Then Margaret raised her fan deliberately and slowly, her expression serene. The crowd turned to stare at her. “$5 for Mrs. Dunore,” Peetton said quickly, relieved that anyone had offered at all.
“Once, twice, sold.” “Margaret stood up, opening her purse with theatrical generosity. I’ll pay twelve dollars for this poor child,” she announced loudly. It’s our Christian duty to care for those others reject.” Several women nodded in agreement. An elderly gentleman exclaimed, “God bless you, Mrs. Dunore.” She accepted the praise with a polite smile: “A perfect example of benevolent Christianity.”
But as the boy was led to her carriage, her eyes studied him with the cold calculation of a naturalist examining a rare specimen. Finally, she found what she needed. Subject zero for her cleanup project. The boy, whose previous owners had named him Thomas, sat wedged in the corner of the carriage during the journey to Belmont Plantation.
Margaret said nothing to him, just opened her leather journal and began recording her observations: approximate age, skin and hair tone, eye color in different light, and the size of her hands and feet. She worked methodically, occasionally looking up to assess him visually before returning to her notes.
Augustus, Margaret’s driver, had worked for the Dunore family for over 20 years. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched. He had long ago learned not to question what Margaret was doing. Belmont had a good reputation among the Chattam County slave community. People ended up there and simply disappeared, not escaped, because word of a fugitive’s capture usually spread.
These people had ceased to exist, as if they had never been born. The carriage rolled through the Pine Forest toward a part of Belmont that Thomas would soon come to know all too well. A cluster of buildings hidden almost a mile from the main house, accessible only by a narrow road through the dense forest. These structures were built between 1843 and 1852, using materials purchased in small quantities from various suppliers in three states.
The workers who built them were sold off shortly after completion and scattered across plantations so far apart they could never meet to exchange stories. When Augustus stopped the carriage in front of the largest building, Margaret climbed down and motioned for Thomas to follow him.
The interior was unlike anything he had ever seen. Clean pine floors, whitewashed walls, glass windows. Margaret led him to a small room with a bed with a real mattress, a chair, a table with a sink, and a shelf. “This will be your room,” she said, her cultured voice lacking warmth. “You will be provided with adequate food, clothing, and shelter.
In return, you will cooperate with certain procedures, medical examinations, measurements, observations. Do you understand? Thomas nodded, understanding nothing except that survival meant obedience. Can you read? He shook his head. Can you write? Shake again. You will be taught, Margaret said with satisfaction.
