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King

The Memoir of Joshua Johnson

by Mohamed

 
     The years passed and my name became famous.  I had the greatest life for a black man. NowI have retired and spend my  days with my happy family.

Click play to hear my story
                         

     My name is Joshua Johnson. I was born in Baltimore, Maryland in 1763 as a  slave. My white father, George Johnson, died when I was young. But before he died, he purchased my freedom. My mother was bought by another farmer at a slave auction. Two weeks later, my owner’s family adopted me and took me in their house.

    They were very wealthy with a big house. They liked me very much. My favorite spot in the house was the reading room because I liked the pictures in the books. Sometimes, I would take a book and practice drawing the characters.

     John Singleton Copley visited our house to paint portraits of my aunt and uncle. My aunt showed him the reading room so he could draw a portrait of her holding her favorite book. That was where he found my art work. He asked who drew those remarkable pictures. My aunt did not know, I answered, ''I did''. He took a minute and mumbled to himself that slaves weren't’t supposed to read, write or draw, but before he opened his mouth, my aunt said, "He’s free". Then he told me that I was a good artist, but he could make me better.

    John Copley started to give me lessons and I practiced and practiced until I became better. After a long period of time I started my own job as a limner ( a painter that goes around peoples houses and ask if he can paint portraits of them). The first portrait I drew was a young girl named Letitia Grace McCurdy. Although some people let me draw portraits of them, others would not because I was a black man.
  
I thought I should have quit painting and become a blacksmith or a soldier and fight in the revolutionary war. Until I came to the Everett family, they accepted my difference and paid me to draw portraits and my reputation passed on from family to family.
    
    Then one day, something really special happened. In the newspaper I was noticed as the first African American artist in our country. I was really proud of myself and it encouraged me to work harder.
 
                                                               Epilogue
   1787 is the year the U.S Constitution was written.  On the day it was passed, everybody in the village was excited including me. The U.S. Constitution says that every man is equal but it never included slavery. I thought that every person with my  skin color was not going to be as lucky as me. I was free and they weren't  and would not have as good a life as I did.


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