Black history here to save
In 1848, during the period that Frederick Douglass, an escaped slave, was a writer and leading figure in the American abolitionist movement, two houses were built in the South End of Bridgeport.
Those two houses stand today on the lonely part of Main Street that was severed from the rest of the city by construction of the stadium that was home to the dearly departed Bridgeport Bluefish.
On Thursday night, Bridgeport native Tenesi Davis gave a riveting performance in the one- man show “Frederick Douglass: An American Slave,” written by Daniel S. Campagna and directed by Maureen Hamill as part of the Klein’s History Theater series.
A fitting presentation for February, Black History Month.
Bridgeport actually has a site that is a bona fide black history location.
The Mary and Eliza Freeman houses, colloquially referred to as “Little Liberia” sit — as they have for as long as anyone can remember — in woeful disrepair on south Main Street, behind chain- link fencing.
That they still stand is a cause for wonder. As I’ve written before, they are two squat ramshackle structures that like John Brown’s body, referenced in the Klein presentation, have “been a- moulderin’” for decades.
Friday morning, as I pulled up and parked in front of the ruins, a small bus drew alongside me and stopped. The driver was saying something. I lowered the window.
“You going to the ferry?” he asked. The shuttle circles the neighborhood, looking for folks who might be headed to the nearby Bridgeport- Port Jefferson ferry. I replied “Thanks, but no.”
The Freeman homes, according to a sign attached to one of them, are the “oldest surviving homes in Connecticut built by African- Americans.”
“Free,” of course, is the operative word here. And as was made so compellingly clear in the Frederick Douglass show, in that dark time of enslavement, that free African- Americans could build homes in Bridgeport and other places was a beacon of hope.
There was a flurry of activity involving the houses in 2018, when they were designated one of “America’s 11 Most Endangered Historic Places” by the National Trust for Historic Preservation.
Indeed, a banner proclaiming that danger is tacked against the weathered plywood that covers the facade of one of them.
Another sign proclaims: Project Funding by: The City of Bridgeport, Bill Finch, Mayor; the U. S. Dept. of Housing and Urban Development; the State of Connecticut, Dannel P. Malloy, Governor; and The 1772 Foundation.
The only improvements visible on a recent visit were three relatively fresh pieces of plywood over doors and windows on the two buildings and a fresh set of steps leading up to the front porch of one.
Bridgeport is notorious for letting its landmarks, like these two structures, fall into abysmal disrepair before finally calling in the wrecking ball.
These two eyesores are in a gritty commercial, industrial area, literally in the shadow of the city’s power plants. Were these dilapidated structures in a more residential area, the neighbors would certainly be lobbying for their demolition. And rightfully so.
But back to that shuttle bus for a moment.
What’s also noticeable in the neighborhood is the work that is steaming along on the music venue that is intended to be the new iteration of the baseball stadium.
If the amphitheater turns out to be what developer Howard Saffan hopes it will be, it is going to be a natural — and easy — destination for people coming to Bridgeport, and that includes by ferry.
If the money — the last figure I saw was $ 1.6 million — and the will can be found to turn these two remaining houses of the once sprawling Little Liberia neighborhood into a true historic landmark, the audience to see and learn about them will be there.
They are pieces of black history that can be kept alive. But time’s a fleein.’