"Behind the Scenes": An Investigation, Pt. II
A Historical and Literary Puzzle
Introduction
This post takes a closer look at the process that led to the publication of BTS. As I argued in the first part of this series, the manner in which it was assembled seems to be significant. Analyses of the book itself tend to assume a level of coherence and unified intention that I suspect was not present in the publication process. It was probably more similar to the production process of a 48 Hours episode—-get a good story and a substantive interview, then cheapen it with tabloid clips and a formulaic structure, in order to make it longer and more “exciting.” The resulting product is superficial and often contradictory or misleading, but that’s more a result of the show’s design than a targeted plan. There were a lot of publishing houses back then that cranked out “filler” books, formulaic and designed to take advantage of momentary fads, rather than to build a lasting work.
With that in mind, I think the fundamentals of what happened can be found in a 1904 interview Keckly, then in her eighties, did with The Washington Times.1
Keckly’s 1904 Interview
She appears to have wanted to set the record straight before her death, and I believe she came pretty close to telling the whole truth at this time. The interview began as follows:
I never intended to write that book, and, in fact, I never wrote it. What I wanted to do was to tell the simple story of my life, my days of slavery, my freedom, my acquaintance with the big officials . . . the proceeds of the sale to go toward rebuilding Wilberforce University . . . To tell the reason for my being in New York where the book was written embodies a tragic story, which I would rather not tell, but now, as I am almost done with life, I think I should tell the truth of the matter and set myself right before the world.
By 1868, Keckly was definitely open to the idea of writing a book about her own life. Wilberforce University, located in Ohio, was one of the first colleges founded to teach black students. Her only child, son George, attended it until the outbreak of the war, in which he was killed. The university was therefore very meaningful to her, and she continued to be involved with it for many years, even teaching there for a period. At the time BTS was published, Wilberforce needed funds to help rebuild after an arson fire that occurred—probably not coincidentally—on the same night as Lincoln’s assassination.
In the 1904 interview, Keckly claimed that by early 1868, she was stuck in New York in dire financial straits after wrapping up Mary Lincoln’s affairs relating to the old clothes scandal:
I secured some sewing in the family of a well-known physician in New York, and . . . fell to telling the little incidents of life in the White House . . . To this family I told my desire to help my race by rebuilding Wilberforce University.
I think identifying this physician might shed a lot of light on what happened. From Keckly’s account, he seemed strangely eager to act as a promoter of literary ventures, suggesting he had experience in that area. She had not known him prior to this time. She emphasized that her main goal was to raise money to rebuild Wilberforce, and that the physician knew she had a lot of information about the inner world of the Lincolns.
Accounts have alleged that Keckly worked with “two newspapermen,” or that she had many male visitors related to the book’s publication. But Keckly’s own words indicate interaction with just two men about the book that became BTS: one a newspaperman, and the other this well-known physician.
At first, however, the physician did not recommend she write a book in order to achieve her goal. Instead, he suggested that she have someone write up a lecture about her life experiences, presumably focused on her interactions with the Lincolns. He recommended she go on a lecture tour, then a popular form of entertainment, “carrying with me . . . the relics . . . even the ghastly, blood-stained cloak.” These were items given to her by Mary Lincoln and worn the night of the assassination. “At last I became accustomed to the thought, and concluded to accept the advice and offer of help from others,” Keckly said, presumably referring to an offer from the lecture bureau she signed up with.
This was the bureau just launched by abolitionist author and activist James Redpath. “He culled his first speakers from among his old abolitionist circles: Henry Ward Beecher, Frederick Douglass and others. From there he branched out. He booked P. T. Barnum to speak on temperance, Brigham Young’s twenty-seventh wife to explain polygamy, and lecturers on Confucianism, Zoroastrianism and, most controversially of all, atheism.” Redpath’s involvement in BTS has been proposed by several historians, and several witnesses seem to confirm it. But my belief is that he was only involved in preparing Keckly for the lecture tour, which would have overlapped with the period in which the book was written. It is likely that the physician knew Redpath, which may help identify him.
What Keckly revealed next is key. After committing to the lecture tour, and having decided that “all the proceeds of the lecture would go to Wilberforce University,” she only then decided to pay her bills by writing a “the little book I have mentioned.” The book she had mentioned previously was “the simple story of my life, my days of slavery, my freedom, my acquaintance with the big officials.” Again, the focus was on her own life, which was certainly interesting enough to be its own book, and it is easy to understand her desire to make her life story known.
A Lifelong Dream
Back in 1893, Keckly had given an interview in which the journalist wrote that “it had been the dream of Lizzie Keckley to some day write a book and tell the stories of her wrongs, when a slave girl, and she had threatened then that if she ever learned to write, she would write a book, telling to the world just how brutal her slave masters had been.” And the first part of Behind the Scenes accomplishes just that. The New York Herald’s review of the book on April 20, 1868, characterized the early chapters on slavery as follows:
It is with some minuteness that we have a detail of scenes that point to the brutality and degradation of the peculiar institution, with the names of the persons who beat [Keckly] in her early years with cudgels, and the information that the persons named are still alive, so that they may know how they appear in print . . . We can see . . . what a satisfaction it is that the former masters of Mrs. Keckley should, even at this late day, be gibbeted in print for their brutality.
The physician offered to find her a ghost-writer, and she “gladly accepted.” In Keckly’s telling, “This was the very first step of that much regretted authorship which was shouldered upon me,” which indicates that the project went in an unexpected direction once the ghostwriter was introduced. Presumably, the ghostwriter had his own agenda, and BTS reflected it. She says the physician “brought a man” to meet with her, but does not explicitly say he was the ghostwriter.
He turned out to be the editor of Turf, Farm, and Field, a New York publication. This was almost certainly Hamilton Busbey, and she “told” him “the first part of ‘Behind the Scenes.’” Of course, Keckly didn’t need much help telling her own life story, or identifying its themes. She was intelligent and thoughtful, and had a story worth telling. The “newspaperman” probably was not an “author” in the sense of generating ideas, just someone who could put Keckly’s ideas and newspaper coverage into a publisher-approved formula.
In 1911, Busbey wrote some reminicences of Lincoln and the war. This was all he said on the matter:
In 1866, a book, Behind the Scenes, was published, and it produced a sensation. It was from the pen of Elizabeth Keckley…who in the early part of the war was the confidential maid of Mrs. Jefferson Davis in Richmond, and in the closing years of strife was the confidential maid of Mrs. Lincoln in Washington. She had taken advantage of her position in each family to preserve personal letters on social and other topics in Government circles, and the extracts given from the letters excited public curiosity and created a large sale for the book. I saw the letters and know that they were genuine. It is difficult to say what would have happened had they fallen into the hands of a modern muckraker. 2
Some of of these details are wrong: the year, Keckly’s position, possibly the content of the letters, and the sales figures (unless Keckly was mislead about them).
However, this may have been intentional distancing, because he had seen the letters, and he had a sharp memory for details the ghostwriter would have been attuned to: her full name, the publication of long extracts of letters, and the fact that the letters were heavily edited to remove sensitive content, which a modern muckracker would not have done. One read of this could be that the extracts were supposed to be teasers for juicier material that was ultimately cut.
Busbey also wrote about how he had become close with all the Lincoln associates in Illinois, and how they were very upset by the old clothes scandal, so he would have had reason to minimize his involvement. It’s also possible that the Turf, Farm, and Field writer was a colleague of Busbey, and that his own involvement was indirect.
Keckly referred to the first part as the part she had never “been ashamed of,” and noted it dealt “with the delicate subject of master and slave.” So far, her original plan of telling her life story seems to have been on track. These are the chapters that deal with her early life, including the years she spent enslaved, and how she was able to purchase her freedom, as well as her son’s freedom, and start a new life.
The Lecture Tour
Of course, this implies she was ashamed of other parts of the book, but I believe her when she says she lost control of the project. While it would seem the lecture tour posed a risk to her friendship with Mary, it is possible that Mary supported this effort to promote a good cause and perhaps make some money, as long as Keckly didn’t reveal anything embarrassing. It is also possible that Keckly’s lecture plans were what gave rise to rumors that Mary herself was going to parade the country with the relics, or rent them out to a showman. These rumors, which were maliciously promoted, greatly upset Mary and created scandal surrounding the relics. This may have made Keckly’s efforts more difficult. Keckly’s words emphasize that the originally planned lecture tour was separate from the book:
The doctor wrote informing me that my amanuensis had engaged a teacher in elocution to coach me in the assassination scene, preparatory to going on a tour through the country. I was not dramatic in temperament, and I had never been so, yet the slightest thought or mention of the day following the assassination would throw me into a fearful state of nervous excitement. My dresses were ready, and I was to tour the country in company with the ghastly blood-stained garments--the cloak worn by Mrs Lincoln . . . and her bonnet . . . along with other relics . . . The very thought of it was too gruesome for even the minds of the curious public, and suddenly decide to, once end for all, stop the terribly irreverent tour, and I left it all came back to Washington…
Keckly conspicuously omitted the fact that she did public readings from BTS and other works before returning to her normal life in DC.3 In later interviews, for understandable reasons, she simply did not acknowledge the extent to which she had attempted to launch a high-profile career. But for a while, she did make an effort, and she was socially prominent for some time afterwards in DC.4 She had always been a socially impressive person who had big aspirations, and after getting a taste of celebrity, influence, and proximity to power during the old clothes scandal, she wanted more of it. (She’d had a fair share of this prior to 1867, but she was able to engage much more directly with white elites while handling Mary’s affairs in NYC, both due to the strange circumstances and the rapid social change of recent years.) I’m convinced Keckly and Mary Lincoln had a great time for a while during the fall of 1867—they quite understandably enjoyed turning the tables on some of Mary’s opponents, and I will write about this at some point. This appears to be a big part of what she shied away from admitting later on.
If this interpretation is correct, her planning for the lecture tour would have occurred in the first months of 1868, when Mary and Keckly were still in regular contact. But things were getting tense. Keckly was frustrated with how Mary had treated her when the old clothes scandal fell into disarray, and felt she deserved more compensation. BTS includes few letters from early 1868, and the long silence between Keckly and Mary is not explained. Perhaps they were corresponding over her planned lecture tour, payment, and other options for making money during this period. The letters resume in the first week of March, when Mary appears to have suddenly wrapped up all of her old clothes-related activities. That week, she alerted the Connecticut publisher, which seems to have been a respectable one, that she was not interested in writing a book at that time.
Things Go Awry
How exactly it all went wrong remains unclear. Keckly’s account was vague:
Just to see how it all happened, I do not to this day see, but the story grew. I was persuaded that the grand stroke I could make for the great cause, was to allow the amanuensis to write the White House story, too. After a time, I consented. The chapters of the book were read to me. Though there was often a more frank statement of some little affair that was altogether necessary, there was still nothing harmful.
Despite the vagueness, there’s actually quite a bit of useful information here.
She came to believe that sharing her White House experiences would be “the grand stroke I could make for the great cause,” presumably the cause of working towards a better future for black Americans. The ghostwriter, or others she was in contact with, convinced her this was her chance to make history, and this emboldened her. It was an impressive story, her influence during the Lincoln years.
The ghostwriter, probably but not definitely Busbey, would read back what he had written after she had told him her White House tales. She did not examine the manuscripts herself. It’s not clear if this was the same way the first part of the book was compiled. But it does seem clear only one person was putting the book together.
Keckly thought the resulting chapters were pretty fair, and certainly not scandalous. But the topic of the book was no longer just Keckly’s life, and that opened the door to discussing Mary’s actions during the old clothes scandal. She probably really did not intend to include this discussion at first, but a bit of venting and explaining herself to the ghostwriter was inevitable, and one thing led to another. She didn’t actually spill all that much juicy information about the Lincolns. Most of the information in the second section came from existing press reports, not Keckly’s discussions with the ghostwriter, and from Mary’s letters.
Keckly’s Later Assessment of BTS
Keckly actually doesn’t seem to have had much of a problem with the second half of the book.5 It was, overall, pretty tame and sympathetic. In 1904, she told an interviewer, “I must say now, after all the intervening years, that I was justified if a little bitter.” She justly pointed out that it had already been covered by all the newspapers in the country in the most unflattering light—adding her own, more sympathetic version to the mix could only have helped Mary’s reputation.
The newspapers all over the country had taken up the disgraceful affairs attendant upon Mrs. Lincolns' effort to dispose of her wardrobe. . . I was only showing Mrs. Lincoln's side of the case, and giving the reasons that she gave me . . . Much that was written and read to me, I have asked to have cut out, and much of the story was not read to me at all.”
The last sentence supports the idea that Busbey was using the newspaper coverage, and some of the letters, to construct the old clothes portion of the story, with little input from Keckly beyond the introduction.
“I must say now, as I did then, that nothing that I have ever dictated or said has thrown Mrs. Lincoln in a worse light than that in which she already stood. To the reverse.”
But she had more misgivings about the old clothes section than the others, and this is where she seemed to feel authorship had been forced upon her. “Much that was written and read to me, I have asked to have cut out, and much of the story was not read to me at all,” she said. The old clothes section is the only section she indicated contained fabrications, or even information and statements unapproved by her, whether due to their falsity or sensitivity. It sounds like sensitivity may have been her bigger concern, as her next comment was this:
I was excited in their telling, but should not have been printed [sic]. I knew afterward that in reading the copy too much was omitted in the reading that was actually in the copy, and had I known it in time, it should never have been printed.
In another interview in the early 1900s, with Smith D. Fry of the Los Angeles Times, similar remarks were made:
Two alleged newspaper men induced her to tell her life. They employed stenographers. They published all that she said, and a great deal that she did not say…They printed many things that ought not to have been uttered or printed; things that caused heartaches, because they were either untrue or only partly true. They printed the book and printed my name on the title page, making me the author of all that was said…They told the story of how Mrs. Lincoln tried vainly to sell her expensive and costly wardrobe in New York; but they did not tell it right. I was with Mrs. Lincoln at that time and did my best to help her dispose of her valuable things; but it would do no good now to say anything about the details of that venture. I merely mention it because they made it a part of the book which made money for them…
I don’t know what an “alleged” newspaperman is, and it sounds like Fry misinterpreted that, but the stenographer comment is interesting. Busbey or others could have been stenographers rather than ghostwriters. I take the “great deal that she did not say,” to be more of a reference to commentary taken from newspapers than to outright fabrications. The references to “printing,” combined with other remarks, suggest that George W. Carleton’s publishing company may have had very little involvement in the drafting of the book—perhaps just printing it. (“In a letter from the publishers years ago, which I have right here, and you can read, they say that my name was never heard from in the business transaction, and I seem to have given my rights way to a pair of men who were willing to drop the bargain in order to escape public criticism.”)
By far the biggest thing Keckly objected to being held responsible for was the publication of excerpts of Mary’s very personal letters as an appendix. I believe her claims that this was done without her knowledge, and that she had provided the letters only to substantiate her claims.6 She indicates they were shown by her to Busbey and the physician, who was apparently still managing things. (Why Busbey and the publishers agreed to include them, especially so heavily and selectively edited, is a topic for another time. The appendix was the only part the reviewers really considered shocking.)
Opportunism
Yet, after describing her shock at their inclusion and her desperate but futile efforts to stop their publication, Keckly continued to cooperate. Her next sentence began with “After that, I wrote an introduction,” and she explained that money had been advanced her so that she had to comply. The introduction was dated March 14, 1868. The copyright was filed the next day. So all of this happened within about a week of Mary wrapping up her own affairs, including declining to write a book, the existence of which had been heavily rumored. That’s why I wonder if a more opportunistic publisher decided to take over Keckly’s project and repurpose it to fill the void.
Keckly accused those who advanced the money (presumably Busbey and the doctor) of having been motivated primarily by the money they could make off the book, especially the account of the old clothes drama. Whoever the doctor was, it sounds like making quick money from acting as a middleman was his motivation from the beginning, whether on the tour or on the book.
"From that day to this I have never seen, met, or heard of either of the two men who were responsible for the story. In a letter from the publishers years ago, which I have right here, and you can read, they say that my name was never heard from in the business transaction, and I seem to have given my rights way to a pair of men who were willing to drop the bargain in order to escape public criticism. They had me visit Horace Greeley, and other great newspaper men, in an effort to get lengthy book reviews, and though they got them in plenty, they were rich in well-deserved censure.”
This is supported by all the reports of Keckly touring the newspaper offices with advance sheets, which were printed nationwide, weeks before the book materialized. Busbey and the doctor were likely looking to make some money off sensationalism, but backlash from people in high places (probably Lincoln associates in Chicago) caused them to hit the breaks on the publicity campaign. Historians have usually focused on the ire directed at Keckly, but as her comments suggest, the criticism was often directed at the publisher and/or ghostwriter. From the surviving newspapers, it appears that more of it was directed at them than at Keckly. Some of that reflects racist assumptions, such as Keckly being incapable of writing such a work, or of writing at all. But plenty of the reviewers recognized it as a familiar tale: someone like themselves, a struggling journalist, exploiting an opportunity.
The Reviews
I enjoyed this 2018 New York Times piece about Keckly’s life (and the “Overlooked No More” series in general), but it illustrates the way this story has been simplified, making it hard to solve BTS-related puzzles or understand the motivations of Keckly, Mary Lincoln, and others. The 2018 piece pointed to the Times’ own review of BTS back in 1868 as typical of the backlash towards Keckly, driven by her refusal to conform to racial and gender stereotypes7:
Keckly suffered for [writing BTS]: Reviewers lambasted the book — and her — when it came out, and it soon disappeared from bookstores.
“She would much better have stuck to her needle,” The New York Times wrote that year. “We cannot but look upon many of the disclosures made in this volume as gross violations of confidence.”
But here’s what comes directly after that line in the original 1868 review:
Mrs. Lincoln evidently reposed implicit trust in [Keckly], and this trust, under unwise advice no doubt, [Keckly] has betrayed. But only in a restricted sense can the book be called her own. It is easy to trace, all through its pages, the hand of a practiced writer—of one who has prejudices to gratify and grudges to repay. As mere gossip, the book is mainly a failure…The public will be disappointed…They will find it...less scandalous, than was expected, considering its source…
Back in 1868, the Times could easily acknowledge that Keckly played significant in a role in the book’s drafting, but that other forces were at work. As I argued in Part I, it is easy to trace the hand of a practiced writer—not because Keckly’s ability to write is in doubt, but because it was formulaic, and the published letters were edited in a way that focused on press-related grudges. The newspaper reviewers were naturally more attuned to this than anyone.
The Times also acknowledged that, as a tell-all, the book was a disappointment. In truth, it wasn’t scandalous enough. It does not read like something written to capture the public’s imagination or attention. Other than the parts about Keckly’s early life, most of it reads like a journalist performing for other journalists. There are some interesting sections that do not fall under this description, and deserve further scrutiny, but as a whole, the book just isn’t what it claimed to be. Maybe the good parts were cut out last minute due to political pressure, but then you would assume the letters would also have been removed.
In any event, sales of BTS were low when it finally came out,8 and Keckly struck out on her own, giving a toned-down lecture tour in MA, where Mary was a less touchy subject than in NY, DC, or IL. If Mary participated directly in BTS, or wrote something while with the Coles that later became part of it, her involvement remains a mystery, and the final product was certainly not something she would have sanctioned.
One purpose of this series is simply to get all the evidence out there, so someone might spot something I missed, or use it for further research. So I will close with some interesting excerpts from BTS reviews. Emphases all mine.
Review Excerpts
On April 7, 1868, The Tennesseean, editorialized that that “some shrewd Yankee” wanted to “make history” and make money. “He, or she, is getting out a book in New York to be called ‘Behind the Scenes,’” but pretending Keckly had written it. It added that the “originator of this literary scheme,” had told the paper that that Keckly had “much to say. . . in regard to men and things in the White House, Washington and New York.”
The Brookyln Daily Eagle, May 13, 1868:
“Behind the Scenes” … purports to have been written by Elizabeth Keckley, but bears sufficient internal evidence of the handiwork of that class of more or less clever literary craftsmen - who are always ready for an odd job, and not too particular as to what it is. Mrs. Keckly was formerly a slave, and is made to say that she “came upon the earth free in Godlike thought, but fettered in action," and that she is "now on the shady side of forty." The first three chapters of the book are devoted to an account of her life to the time of gaining her freedom…But a narrative of the personal career of Mrs. Keckley is not the pretext for publishing this book. It claims attention solely because its ostensible author served as modiste in the family of the late President of the United States, and in that of the first and only President of the Confederacy. Mrs. Keckley was employed by Mrs. Jefferson Davis late in 1860 and worked in her house. She procured there little material in the shape of familiar conversations, confidential and personal communications, and kitchen gossip, which always excites curiosity, however discreditable its publication, or, if she obtained it, withholds it at the bidding of a sense of delicacy and propriety she has wholly repudiated in the case of Mrs. Lincoln.
The review points out that Keckly is oddly silent on what was going on in the Davis home in the days leading up to the Civil War—-not even an insinuation of Jefferrson Davis holding “midnight conferences” with fellow traitors. She shared almost nothing of interest about the Davises, which was quite the opportunity to miss in 1868.
In the preface Mrs. Keckley is made to say: "If I have betrayed confidence in anything I have published, it has been to place Mrs. Lincoln in a better light before the world. A breach of trust if breach it can ho called of this kind is always excusable." They who write for Mrs. Keckley know this theory is false. But if it were true the case is not one in point. Mrs. Lincoln is not placed "in a better light before the world." …We see her pettishly refusing to be dressed and go down stairs to her first reception, because her dress was brought home late, and only yielding to persistent coaxing. She is absurdly jealous of every woman with whom the President converses. She denounces Chase as a sefish politician who would betray Mr. Lincoln could he make anything by so doing; Seward as a man not to be trusted, destitute of principle, and a hypocrite; Andrew Johnson, as a "demagogue;" McClellan, as a "humbug"; Grant, as an "obstinate fool and a butcher."
Never commented on is just how lame these quotes are. The best that Keckly, Busbey, or whoever could come up with is that Mary thought Chase was out for himself, Seward was tricky, Johnson was a demagogue, McClellan was a humbug, and Grant was a butcher? Those things were typical newspaper headlines throughout the 1860s—everyone expressed those views at one point or another, Mary included, I’m sure. But how about actual insider info in this tell-all?
…As to the letters on the subject, which form an appendix to the volume, [the disclaimer that] they "were not written for publication," was not needed. The letters prove this plainly enough. They are filled with weak complaining of a narrowness of income, reproaches of the Republican politicians and desperate expressions of a frantic desire to sell superfluous clothing. They will not affect the judgment of the public, that while it is discreditable to the nation that proper provision was not made for the family of a President who died while and because he was in the service of the country, and while it is further discreditable to the party friends of Mr. Lincoln that the omission was not supplied, the method adopted by his widow for the relief of her real or fancied necessities betrayed a melancholy lack of self-respect and respect for the memory of her husband…
Even if the letters were embarrassing, it was all old news by this point.
I had mentioned how Robert’s name was censored even though his identity was extremely clear. One review relished calling attention to the Lincoln family domestic drama, which was one of the more sensitive issues relating to the book,9 but did so in a faux-sympathetic way. Few other papers published the sections involving references to Robert.
Behind the Scenes is by far the most readable book of its class that has been published within a twelvemonth…
The book concludes with an account of Mrs. Lincoln's negotiations in New York for the sale of her wardrobe, and an appendix containing her letters to the author of the book. The correspondence is exceedingly discreditable throughout…Its redeeming feature, however, is, that it relieves her son, Captain Robert Lincoln, from all complicity in the matter by narrating his shame, anxiety and indignation concerning her transactions. In a letter to Mrs. Keckley…she says: "R. came up last evening like a maniac, and almost threatened his life, because the letters of The World were published in yesterday's paper." In another to the same person, dated Nov. 9th, relating to the division of Mr.. Lincoln's estate by the executor, Judge Davis, Mrs. Lincoln say's: "R. is very spiteful at present, and I think hurries up the division to cross my purposes. * * He is very deep.”10
The Sweetwater Forerunner, a Tennessee paper, on May 21, 1868:
“[Keckley] is said to feel very sore over the abuse the radical [republican] papers are heaping upon her head for telling a portion of what she heard and saw. The New York correspondent of the Lousiville Democrat says: “She says, if they do not draw off their fire, she will put another volume to press, in which she will show up the rascalities and villanies of many a black republican, who at present passes for a saint. During her residence with the Lincoln family, she says, circumstances made her acquainted with many transactions, which woud make the public’s hair stand on end, but that she has refrained from making them public only from a high sense of duty. Unless the attacks upon her cease, however, she says she will not consider herself any longer bound to silence.”
This is the kind of book “E. E. D.” described, which it was rumored Mary was imminently releasing. Notice the southern papers were defending Keckly in order to attack the radical republicans. (The term “black republican” was used to describe white republicans who were perceived as supporting racial equality.) That’s the main reason Keckly did not get more criticism—the southern and democratic papers found BTS very useful for political warfare.
“Keckly” was how she actually spelled her last name, but it was often rendered as “Keckley,” including in Behind the Scenes. The restoration of her true last name is not as recent as it has been portrayed; journalists in the early 1900s consistently used the correct spelling. As those interviews focused on setting her story straight before the public, I assume she raised the issue with those journalists. Another explanation would be that, around that time, that some journalists became less condescending towards non-white interviewees, and made more of an effort to confirm basic facts. Historians tended to use the incorrect BTS spelling, since their interest in her was usually confined to her involvement with BTS.
Hamilton Busbey, “Recollections of Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War,” The Forum, 1911 (available on Googlebooks). Busbey’s nephew later claimed his uncle was the ghostwriter, which seems like pretty strong evidence when combined with Keckly’s claim that he edited Turf, Farm, and Field.
“Mrs Keckley, who wrote or furnished the manuscript for the book about Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln in the White House, will read in Boston Thursday evening.” The Hartford Courant, June 24, 1868. The Springfield Republican gave her good reviews.
My understanding is that this was a period in which some elites in northern cities held unusually progressive views about racial equality. The social opportunities open to Keckly in 1868 may have been hard to make sense of in the post-Reconstruction era. For example, the 1870 wedding of the daughter of Mr. Wormly, a respected black restauranteur in DC, got a lot of press coverage, and was heavily attended by journalists. The coverage comes across as parodic, and maybe I’m missing a joke, but I think it may just reflect the freewheeling nature of those circles in the post-war years. The groom was “a Frenchman,” a diplomat, so this would have been a socially liberal crowd. Donn Piatt, who attended, wrote that he’d been told press was not allowed, and was thus relieved to find noted journalists Ramsdell and Brooks in attendance. They “owed their invitations, I am told, to the celebrated authoress Mrs. Keckley, and the charming Miss Shaw [he probably means Miss Slade], formerly connected with the kitchen department of the White House.” Leavenworth Daily Commercial, January 7, 1870. George Alfred Townsend was a groomsman, and escorted Keckly down the aisle. The Winona Daily Republican, November 29, 1869.
LeBerta Gray, with whom Keckly apparently lived late in life, told John E. Washington that “She did not often speak of her past life but would tell those about her that she had put an account of it in a book which they could read.” So it was available, and she was not too ashamed to direct them to it, though this seems to have changed in her final years, when she moved into a nursing home. Washington was the author of the book They Knew Lincoln.
An associate of Keckly’s later told John E. Washington that Keckly told her someone involved with the book, most likely Busbey, “pretended he was my friend and wanted to help me make the book a success.” Keckley indicated that this man had “persuaded her to turn over to him the letters she had from Mrs. Lincoln so he could get certain extracts; that he could understand better by seeing some of the letters. He was not to print anything very private or personal.”
The New Orleans Times-Democrat’s hot take on April 26, 1868, was almost the opposite of the NYT’s in 2018: “The authoress being a lady of color, of course the Radicals cannot afford to attack its veracity, and so content themselves with denouncing it as a scandalous breach of confidence.”
But it was not entirely suppressed—there are many references to people reading it at the time. Wellesley College has a copy inscribed “To Kate from Mrs. Fetherson, April 17, 1869.” On May 23, 1868, the Alexandria Gazette printed the books in stock at a local book shop. Behind the Scenes was described as “a rare book,” and “a new lot [had] just [been] received.” On July 11, 1909, DC’s Washington Herald had an article on changing fashions: “There was once a fashionable dressmaker in town who had belonged to a Virginia family of standing before the war… she with good business instinct came to Washington as the best field for her newly developed profession…In the affluent days that followed she found time to wield the pen, and her biography and the frankness with which she tells of the ladies she served made very amusing literature. The edition was so limited that it is probably only a memory now, but one of her stories is still recalled by ‘one of the family,’ …”
Keckly’s friend Eliza Williams told John E. Washington that “Mrs. Lincoln knew it all,” that “she had tried many times to talk to Robert Lincoln, but he would never see her after he rebuked her for publishing his mother’s letters.” Washington wrote, “Mrs. Williams also said in her interview that Mrs. Keckley heard from her friend many times in a roundabout way after they were separated, and that she knew Mrs. Lincoln never had any hard feelings against her for the book.” It’s unclear if this is true, and, if so, what that would mean. But the letters were the part of the book that were considered scandalous. It’s possible Mary approved of Keckly’s project sans private letters.
The Daily Milwaukee News, April 22, 1868.