Maureen Corrigan

In 2017, historian Judith Giesberg and her team of graduate student researchers launched a website called The Last Seen Project. It now contains over 4,500 ads placed in newspapers by formerly enslaved people who hope to find family members separated by slavery. The earliest ads date from the 1830s and stretch into the 1920s.

Giesberg says that when she's given public lectures about this online archive of ads, the audience always asks the question, did they find each other? Giesberg says, I always answer the question the same way, and no one is ever satisfied with it. I don't know. Giesburg's new book, called Last Seen, is her more detailed response to the question.

Giesberg says that when she's given public lectures about this online archive of ads, the audience always asks the question, did they find each other? Giesberg says, I always answer the question the same way, and no one is ever satisfied with it. I don't know. Giesburg's new book, called Last Seen, is her more detailed response to the question.

Giesberg says that when she's given public lectures about this online archive of ads, the audience always asks the question, did they find each other? Giesberg says, I always answer the question the same way, and no one is ever satisfied with it. I don't know. Giesburg's new book, called Last Seen, is her more detailed response to the question.

In each of the ten chapters here, she closely reads ads placed in search of lost children, mothers, wives, siblings, and even comrades who served in the United States Colored Troops during the Civil War. Giesburg isn't trying to generate reunion stories, although there are a couple of those in this book.

In each of the ten chapters here, she closely reads ads placed in search of lost children, mothers, wives, siblings, and even comrades who served in the United States Colored Troops during the Civil War. Giesburg isn't trying to generate reunion stories, although there are a couple of those in this book.

In each of the ten chapters here, she closely reads ads placed in search of lost children, mothers, wives, siblings, and even comrades who served in the United States Colored Troops during the Civil War. Giesburg isn't trying to generate reunion stories, although there are a couple of those in this book.

Giesburg tells us the cruel reality was that the success rate of these advertisements may have been as low as 2%. Instead of happy endings, these ads offer readers something else. They serve as portals into the lived experience of slavery.

Giesburg tells us the cruel reality was that the success rate of these advertisements may have been as low as 2%. Instead of happy endings, these ads offer readers something else. They serve as portals into the lived experience of slavery.

Giesburg tells us the cruel reality was that the success rate of these advertisements may have been as low as 2%. Instead of happy endings, these ads offer readers something else. They serve as portals into the lived experience of slavery.

For instance, countering the lost cause myth that enslaved people were settled on southern plantations and Texas cotton fields, the ads, which often list multiple names of white owners as a finding aid, testify to how black people were sold and resold. The ads that hit hardest are the ones that illuminate what Giesberg refers to as America's traffic in children.

For instance, countering the lost cause myth that enslaved people were settled on southern plantations and Texas cotton fields, the ads, which often list multiple names of white owners as a finding aid, testify to how black people were sold and resold. The ads that hit hardest are the ones that illuminate what Giesberg refers to as America's traffic in children.

For instance, countering the lost cause myth that enslaved people were settled on southern plantations and Texas cotton fields, the ads, which often list multiple names of white owners as a finding aid, testify to how black people were sold and resold. The ads that hit hardest are the ones that illuminate what Giesberg refers to as America's traffic in children.

Selling children away from their mothers, she says, was the rule of slavery, not the exception. Clara Bashup's story opens last scene. Bashup had been searching for her daughter and son for 30 years when she took out an ad in 1892 in the African-American newspaper, The Chicago Appeal. Here are some portions. I wish to find my daughter patience green.

Selling children away from their mothers, she says, was the rule of slavery, not the exception. Clara Bashup's story opens last scene. Bashup had been searching for her daughter and son for 30 years when she took out an ad in 1892 in the African-American newspaper, The Chicago Appeal. Here are some portions. I wish to find my daughter patience green.

Selling children away from their mothers, she says, was the rule of slavery, not the exception. Clara Bashup's story opens last scene. Bashup had been searching for her daughter and son for 30 years when she took out an ad in 1892 in the African-American newspaper, The Chicago Appeal. Here are some portions. I wish to find my daughter patience green.

I have no trace of her since she was sold at Richmond, Virginia in 1859. She was then 12 years of age. John William Harris, my son, went with some servants after the surrender. He was 14 years old. Both belonged to Dick Christian, in name only, by whom they were sold. The language of Bashup's ad is direct and somewhat defiant.

I have no trace of her since she was sold at Richmond, Virginia in 1859. She was then 12 years of age. John William Harris, my son, went with some servants after the surrender. He was 14 years old. Both belonged to Dick Christian, in name only, by whom they were sold. The language of Bashup's ad is direct and somewhat defiant.

I have no trace of her since she was sold at Richmond, Virginia in 1859. She was then 12 years of age. John William Harris, my son, went with some servants after the surrender. He was 14 years old. Both belonged to Dick Christian, in name only, by whom they were sold. The language of Bashup's ad is direct and somewhat defiant.

Giesburg comments on the words in name only that Bashup appended after the name of Dick Christian, the man who owned her children. Against this legal right, Giesburg says, Clara Bashup asserted a moral and emotional one. In comparison, Giesburg unpacks the language of a human interest story aimed at white readers about Bashup's search. That story ran in the New York World newspaper.