A few weeks before the Republicans met in convention at Chicago, Frederick Douglass at his home in Rochester had a caller. The man identified himself as a tradesman from Springfield, Illinois.
“I’m here, lookin’ over the shippin’ of some goods, and I took the liberty to come see you, Mr. Douglass,” he said, resting his hands on his knotty knees.
“I’m very glad you did, sir.” Douglass waited for the man to reveal his errand. He leaned forward.
“I ain’t a talkin’ man, Mr. Douglass. I’m much more for doin’.” Douglass smiled his approval. The man lowered his tone. “More than once I took on goods for Reverend Rankin.”
Douglass knew instantly what he meant. John Rankin was one of Ohio’s most daring Underground Railroad agents. Douglass’ face lit up, and for the second time he grasped his visitor’s rough hand.
“Any Rankin man is a hundredfold welcome in my house! What can I do for you?”
“Jus’ listen and think on what I’m sayin’. We got a man out our way we’re namin’ for president!”
The unexpected announcement caught Douglass up short.
“But I thought—” The man waved him to silence.
“Yep! I know. You Easterners got your man all picked out. I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ ’bout Mr. Seward. I donno him. But the boys out West do know Abe Lincoln—and we’re gonna back him!”