The Historian Who Unearthed “Twelve Years a Slave”, Michael Schulman, New Yorker, March 7, 2014.

Accepting the Oscar for Best Picture on Sunday—technically, it might
have been Monday at that point—Steve McQueen took a moment to thank
“this amazing historian Sue Eakin,” who “gave her life’s work to
preserving Solomon’s book.” It was an unusual shout-out: we’re used to
seeing Harvey Weinstein or God get thanked, not historians from
Louisiana. But it’s safe to say that without Eakin, who died in 2009, at
the age of ninety, none of us would be talking about Solomon Northup,
or Patsey, or the other once-forgotten souls portrayed in this year’s
Best Picture.
Eakin, who taught at Louisiana State University at Alexandria for
twenty-five years, spent her career rescuing Northup’s memoir from
obscurity. “There were five of us, and Solomon was the sixth,” Eakin’s
son Frank said the other day, from his home in Texas. “There was never a
time when he was not part of the conversation.” Eakin grew up near
Cheneyville, Louisiana, the eldest of nine children, and discovered
Northup when she was twelve.
One summer day in 1931, her father, a
planter, drove her in a flatbed truck to the nearby town of Bunkie, not
far from the property once owned by Edwin Epps (the Michael Fassbender
character). They were visiting Oak Hall Plantation, where her father had
business with the owner, Sam Haas. Haas brought young Sue to the
library on the second floor (“My mom was a big-time bookworm,” Frank
says), where he handed her a dusty copy of “Twelve Years a Slave,” first
published in 1853.
“I began reading the old book as rapidly as I
could, becoming more and more excited with every page,” Eakin wrote
later. “I recognized local place names like Cheneyville, where our mail
was delivered.” The family names were familiar, too: the Tanners, the
Fords, the McCoys. Eakin was rapt, but her father picked her up before
she could finish reading. Back then, the book was in scant supply. Eakin
didn’t find another copy until 1936, when she arrived at Louisiana
State University and spotted the book at Otto Claitor’s Bookstore. She
asked Mr. Claitor how much it cost. “What do you want that for?” he
said. “There ain’t nothin’ to that old book. Pure fiction.” He sold it
to her for twenty-five cents.
Eakin devoted the rest of her life to proving him wrong. As a white
woman growing up in Jim Crow-era Louisiana, she had been
forward-thinking about race. In 1944, she invited a black choir to sing
at the Haas Auditorium, in Bunkie, causing community uproar. A burning
cross landed on her front yard. After church one Sunday, she discovered
some kids trying to set her house on fire. “I never let it worry me,”
she later recalled. But her weapon of choice was history, and Solomon
became her obsession. (Her many other books include histories of
Cheneyville and Rapides Parish.) She wrote her master’s thesis on
“Twelve Years a Slave,” and, in 1968, published the first modern
edition. But her research continued. She contacted descendants of
Northup and Epps, and helped preserve a side house on Epps’s former
property. (In the movie, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Brad Pitt are shown
building it.)
With state funding, she developed the Northup Trail, a tour of key
locations from the book. “I said, ‘Mom, I know how much this means to
you.’ But I didn’t want her expectations to be unmet,” Frank said. “All
you had was a bunch of rusty signs. Not many people showed up.”
Nevertheless, Eakin believed that someday Northup’s story would get its
due. Frank recalled going to courthouses and descendants’ houses as a
child. “If she had any news of anybody that could contribute, we were
off to the races in the car with the fifty-pound tape recorder and an
old camera,” he said. In 1983, she even wrote a musical based on
Northup’s life.
Eakin spent her last years working on an expanded edition of “Twelve
Years a Slave,” including the decades of research she had accumulated
since 1968. But her health began to decline, and her eyesight was poor.
Frank’s sister helped her edit the new version, and, in 2007, at the age
of eighty-eight, Eakin published the enhanced edition, with maps,
pictures, and historical notes. She wrote in the acknowledgments, “Now
Solomon and I can rest.” Two years later, she died.
Every couple years, Eakin would get a phone call from someone
interested in turning “Twelve Years a Slave” into a movie. Nothing came
of it. (Besides, the story was in the public domain.) The year she died,
there was another call—Frank spoke to someone and shrugged it off. It
wasn’t until 2011, two years after his mother’s death, that Frank heard
that Brad Pitt’s production company, Plan B, was making the film. He
offered to help however he could. Steve McQueen flew Frank to the
Hollywood première, where they discussed his mother’s contribution:
“Steve said, ‘There wouldn’t be a movie if it wasn’t for your mom’s
discovery when she was twelve.’ ”
Frank spent Oscar night at a viewing party in Texas. “When Brad Pitt
introduced Steve, everything was complete silence,” he said. Hearing his
mother’s name, he was dumbstruck. “I couldn’t believe my ears. I looked
around and said, ‘Did did he say that?’ ” As the publisher of his
mother’s edition and the audiobook, Frank has been busy in the wake of
the film’s success. But mostly he’s happy to see his mother posthumously
validated: “She never sought personal publicity. Her passion was
history, getting the history out.” Even the Northup Trail is getting
refurbished—no more rusty signs. “Yesterday, I was on the phone with the
tourism commission,” Frank said. “They see this as a large tourism
opportunity.”
Full Text and Image Source: New Yorker, March 4, 2014