A Genuine Hero

William T. Lewis (Uncle Bill) was born a slave in Winchester, TN in 1810. He began training as a blacksmith at an early age and developed such a mastery of his craft he was able, as a young man, to buy his time for $350 a year, and save enough money to buy his freedom and that of his wife. The couple moved to Ross' Landing in 1837, one year before the completion of the forced removal of the Cherokee people to Oklahoma, and two years before the settlement's name was changed to Chattanooga. His home was at the site of the present day Fountain Square. Lewis earned enough money to purchase the freedom of his 6 year old son ($400), elderly mother ($150), aunt ($150), and two brothers ($1000 each). He was able to get a slave trader to buy his sister for him for $400. Because of the underclass status of African Americans at the time, he had to hire a white man to legalize the transactions for him. "Such a man is a genuine hero," wrote W.R. Pittenger, author of The Great Locomotive Chase, and one of Andrews' Raiders, who met Lewis when the latter forged the irons he wore as a prisoner of the Confederates in 1862.

In the 1850 census, when he was thirty-nine years old, Lewis reported an estate of $1,500. By the next census, ten years later, his family had grown to eight children and his net worth was $7,000. One of his sons also worked as a blacksmith, and a daughter was a milliner. He opened his own blacksmith shop in 1857.

In 1862, just before the Civil War came to Chattanooga, he bought property at the corner of Market and 7th Streets, site of the present day Blue Cross and Blue Shield Building, from William Crutchfield for $2000, and opened a new blacksmith shop. He forged the shackles for Andrew's Raiders when they were captured following the Great Locomotive Chase. His son actually put them on the prisoners.

Lewis and his family were among the first members of the Methodist Church. According to his obituary in the Chattanooga Times, Sept. 3, 1896, he died at age 86.

The past is a work of art, free of irrelevancies and loose ends.

Sir Max Beerbohm, “Comment”