The Legacy of Gordon: A Story of Resilience and Forgotten Lives
The photograph of Gordon, also known as Peter, stands as one of the most haunting and iconic images from the era of American slavery. Captured in 1863, the image of his heavily scarred back, the result of relentless whippings, became a stark testament to the brutality of slavery. The photo was widely circulated during the Civil War, serving as undeniable evidence of the inhumanity suffered by enslaved individuals. Yet, beyond the image lies the story of a man whose life, courage, and resilience deserve to be remembered.
Gordon’s story begins on a 3,000-acre plantation owned by John Lyon along the Atchafalaya River in Louisiana. In October 1862, Gordon was subjected to a brutal whipping by an overseer named Artayou Carrier. The severity of the punishment left him bedridden for two months, during which he endured physical agony and likely emotional torment. It was during this time that Gordon began to plan his escape from bondage. In March 1863, Gordon fled the plantation, embarking on a harrowing journey to freedom. To evade capture, he used resourceful tactics such as rubbing onions over his body to mask his scent from bloodhounds. After traveling 80 miles over ten days through treacherous terrain, he reached Baton Rouge, where the Union’s 47th Massachusetts Infantry was stationed.
“Ten days from today I left the plantation. Overseer Artayou Carrier whipped me. I was two months in bed sore from the whipping. My master comes after I was whipped; he discharged the overseer. My master was not present. I don’t remember the whipping. I was two months in bed sore from the whipping and my sense began to come – I was sort of crazy. I tried to shoot everybody. They said so, I did not know. I did not know that I had attempted to shoot everyone; they told me so. I burned up all my clothes, but I don’t remember that. I never was this way (crazy) before. I don’t know what makes me come that way (crazy). My master come after I was whipped; saw me in bed; he discharged the overseer. They told me I attempted to shoot my wife the first one; I did not shoot anyone; I did not harm anyone. My master’s Capt. JOHN LYON, cotton planter, on Atchafalaya, near Washington, Louisiana. Whipped two months before Christmas.”
Upon his arrival at the Union camp, Gordon underwent a medical examination that revealed the horrific scars crisscrossing his back. Two photographers from New Orleans, William D. McPherson and his partner Mr. Oliver, documented his injuries in a portrait that would later be mass-produced and published in Harper’s Weekly Journal. The image shocked many in the North, providing visual proof of the cruelty inflicted upon enslaved individuals and galvanizing support for the abolitionist cause. Gordon’s scars were not just physical; they were emblematic of the psychological trauma endured by countless enslaved individuals. His recollections suggest that he may have suffered from mental health challenges as a result of his experiences. In a statement given to Union soldiers, Gordon described being in a state of delirium following his whipping, unable to recall certain actions or events. He mentioned hearing from others that he had attempted to harm people, including his wife—claims he could not remember or comprehend. This period of confusion and distress underscores the profound psychological toll that slavery exacted on its victims.
The long-term effects of such trauma on enslaved individuals and their descendants remain an important area of inquiry. How did generations of African Americans cope with the physical and emotional scars of slavery? How did these experiences shape post-emancipation black communities? These questions are critical to understanding the enduring legacy of slavery in America. After reaching freedom, Gordon joined the Union Army as a sergeant in the 2nd Louisiana Regiment Infantry, part of the United States Colored Troops. He fought bravely during the Siege of Port Hudson in May 1863, contributing to the Union’s efforts to defeat the Confederacy. Despite his remarkable courage and resilience, little is known about Gordon’s life beyond this point. Did he survive the war? Did he have a family? What became of him after his service? These questions remain unanswered, leaving us with only fragments of his story.
Gordon’s anonymity reflects a broader pattern in history: the erasure of countless lives shaped by slavery. While his photograph brought attention to the horrors of bondage, it also highlights how many enslaved individuals lived and died without leaving behind a recorded legacy. Their stories, like Gordon’s, have often been lost to time. The image of Gordon’s scarred back continues to resonate more than 150 years later, serving as both a reminder of America’s painful history and a symbol of resilience in the face of unimaginable suffering. It challenges us to remember not only Gordon but also the millions of men, women, and children whose lives were shaped by slavery. Their stories—both told and untold—form an essential part of our collective history.
As we reflect on Gordon’s life and legacy, we are reminded of the importance of preserving and honoring these narratives. They are not merely historical accounts; they are testimonies to human endurance, courage, and the enduring fight for justice and dignity.