A Chronicle Of Strength The Spokane Diary Of One-Time Slave Lucy Breckenridge Tells Story Of Courage And Faith

March 1919 I dreamed about someone wanting me to go to another place. I didn’t want to because there is no place like home. - Lucy Breckenridge

Lucy Breckenridge, born into slavery in 1855, created a remarkable diary, a rare historical find which provides an intimate glimpse into the life of a working-class black woman.

Breckenridge was eventually to become the great-grandmother of a large, flourishing African-American family in Spokane, but when she was born in Virginia, it was illegal to teach slaves to read or write.

Nonetheless, she learned to read as an adult, and at the age of 64, she began a diary of her life in Spokane. A widow, she was sustained through scarcity and loneliness by a deep faith and astonishing gratitude.

The diary was created with invented spelling, edited here for clarity, on scraps of paper. Discovered by Breckenridge’s daughter, the diary was not chronological, often penned in the margins of earlier entries, yet it had the power to give Breckenridge’s life both shape and meaning.

The diary is now owned by Breckenridge’s great-granddaughter, Jerrelene Williamson of Spokane. She and her brother Alfonse Hill, a retired Spokane music teacher, also raised their families in this city.

Aug. 20, 1922 I dreamed that I saw two women flying and they look like angels. I saw a man sitting there and I saw more people a distance from them. That world looked bright and I felt good when I woke up, so I have to thank the Lord for all I have.

Around 1888, Lucy Breckenridge moved with her son, John, her husband, Henry Breckenridge, and Henry’s sister Mary Perkins to Roslyn, Wash. When white coal miners launched the Northern Pacific Rail Strike, black miners were brought west to break the strike.

In Roslyn, at age 38 Lucy Breckenridge gave birth to her daughter, Mary. Soon after, the Breckenridges moved to Spokane.

Henry Breckenridge worked various jobs in Spokane until his death on Jan. 22, 1907. The death certificate, which still puzzles his great-grandchildren, lists the cause of death as an accidental fall down a well. It occurred in a downtown alley, and has never been fully explained.

From the time of his death, until her own 33 years later, Lucy Breckenridge managed to live alone in a small house on Martin Street in Northeast Spokane. She is listed among the city’s first black property owners, and in 1989 was named by the Washington State Genealogical Society as one of the state’s First Citizens.

Dec. 28, 1924 This is Christmas Sunday… On Saturday I went up to a colored lady’s house and it was cold and snowing and she wanted me to take a chair and set down in the kitchen. I guess I looked too poor to go into the dining room. I had a good home to go to and it was warm, so I came home. I did not like the way I was treated.

Home provided solace for Lucy Breckenridge. There she raised chickens and puppies, and grew peaches, apricots and plums. In 1925, she wrote, “I thank the Lord for my garden, for it keeps me from being hungry.”

But occasionally, her chickens were stolen, her fruit trees raided. In the middle of winter, her pipes froze, and her feet ached with cold.

Breckenridge’s diary reports that people brought her food, often on Thanksgiving or Christmas, and that in 1927, she received a large donation of groceries, enough to last until May.

Charity worked both ways. On July 13, 1925, she wrote, “I went to church last night and I was late getting in, but I just got there in time to pay my 50 cents month dues and I gave a poor white man 5 cents to help him.”

Miss Mary Breckenridge is in town and I am glad to have her home again. I hope that she will stay with Mother for I love her to be home. Dec. 20, 1920

Jan. 4, 1921 I dreamed that there was a heavy weight on me and I prayed and I woke up and then I felt all right. I get lonesome here by myself. I put my trust in the Lord and he takes care of me.

Faith, and Lucy Breckenridge’s poignant love for her daughter Mary sustained her through the most difficult, lonely moments.

Throughout the diary, Breckenridge carefully noted her dreams, watching to see if a disturbing image would foretell the future. On several occasions, a dark dream preceded troubling news.

On March 29, 1926, Breckenridge dreamed she saw her daughter Mary struggling to carry a coffin. In the dream, she tried to help Mary.

Several months later, Breckenridge wrote, “I think my dream came true.” Her husband’s sister, Mary Perkins, had suffered a stroke and did not live long. “I hope she is at rest,” Breckenridge wrote.

Aug. 18, 1929 I saw lots of children Sunday and they said that they wanted apricots. They got them and I just stood and looked at them. I don’t think they ever saw a black face before. They keep peeping at me and running in and out, then the older people came out to see what was the matter and got them some apricots. I just looked at them … Mrs. Lucy Breckenridge

Lucy Breckenridge lived in a narrowly defined world, the limits drawn by segregation and discrimination.

Still, the scraps of paper Breckenridge used as her diary helped her define herself as a single woman, living alone from the age of 64 to 75.

Fifty-four years after her death, a Washington State University history professor, Frances Jones-Sneed, would quote from Lucy Breckenridge’s diary in an academic paper.

“Lucy Breckenridge created and constructed a space for herself through the magic and power of words,” she wrote.

“I thought it was absolutely amazing the kinds of thoughts and religious fervor that she had,” said Jones-Sneed, now a history professor living in Williamstown, Mass.

Jones-Sneed calls Lucy Breckenridge’s diary a rare find. Most of the historical black records from the turn of the century were written by well-educated, middle class African-Americans.

But Lucy Breckenridge, using the invented spelling of a primary schoolchild, and a devotion to reading the Bible, also left a rich legacy.

“Her spirit was what was wonderful,” says Jones-Sneed. “She was really thankful to be alive.”

March 8, 1930 This is a fine Sunday in March, the last of March. I am so glad that I am spared to see this day, while many of my dear friends have passed away. My good Lord is good to me. I am (still) healthy to work and strong. My dear daughter said that she would come to see me the middle of April. I hope that she will come… Mrs. Lucy Breckenridge

Lucy Breckenridge died 10 years later on April 15, 1940. At her funeral the Calvary Baptist Church choir sang “Shall We Meet Beyond the River?” and “Flee as a Bird.”

In the funeral program, this verse was printed:

“I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.”

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