Nineteenth-Century Philadelphia Caterer Thomas J. Dorsey

Perhaps no other city in post-colonial America afforded African Americans as much social, economic and political opportunity as did Philadelphia. In the 50 years following the American Revolution, the city became home to the largest concentration of free blacks in the North. But as the 19th century wore on, it became obvious that white citizens of the City of Brotherly Love would accept African Americans only on certain terms. In the economic sphere, the city's growing immigrant population forced blacks out of the skilled professions and likewise hindered their chances at employment in the emerging industrial economy. Many African Americans adjusted to the contraction of their economic sphere by excelling in the service sector. Catering was one of the fields where African Americans distinguished themselves.

Philadelphia's African-American population managed to dominate the catering industry in the 19th century. W.E.B. Du Bois, in his seminal study The Philadelphia Negro (Schocken Press, 1967), declared the African-American caterers "as remarkable a trade guild as ever ruled in a medieval city. [The caterers] took complete leadership of the bewildered group of Negroes, and led them steadily on to a degree of affluence, culture and respect such as has probably never been surpassed in the history of the Negro in America." One of the wealthiest and most influential of these caterers was Thomas J. Dorsey (1812-1875).

Born a slave in Maryland, Dorsey escaped from bondage and carved a place for himself within Philadelphia's emerging African-American elite. Like many African Americans in the 19th century, Dorsey had made his way North as a fugitive. Although the census reported nearly 11,000 free blacks living in Philadelphia in 1810, it was estimated by a committee appointed by the Pennsylvania House of Representatives that there were at least another 4,000 fugitive slaves seeking refuge in the city.

When Dorsey arrived in Philadelphia in 1836, Pennsylvania's free black community was waging a political battle against infringements of its members' political and social rights. The Pennsylvania Legislature had been debating a bill that would prohibit African Americans from migrating into the state. This bill, before the Legislature in 1832, would also require all free blacks in the state to carry identification passes. Although this bill was never ratified, the African-American population was given a more devastating political blow in 1837, when the Pennsylvania Supreme Court reinterpreted the state constitution to deny free blacks the right to vote. Pennsylvania's free blacks were not re-enfranchised until 1870.

The tenuous position of Philadelphia's free black population was further complicated by racial aggression in the city. African Americans in Philadelphia were the victims of five race riots between 1834 and 1842 alone. The majority of these attacks were instigated by newly arrived Irish immigrants, who were in direct competition with blacks for work in the limited unskilled employment sectors that free blacks had dominated.

Despite the political and social upheaval in the city during this period, the Philadelphia where Dorsey sought to live as a free man was not entirely bleak. The 1830s saw an increase in people dedicated to the abolitionist crusade. The creation of the American Anti-Slavery Society; the efforts of the Pennsylvania Abolitionist Society; the distribution of William Lloyd Garrison's fiery newspaper, The Liberator, and the genesis of a national black convention movement were all promising signs for Philadelphia's African-American community. The overall success of the city's free black population can be measured to a certain extent--in its astonishing growth in the early decades of the 19th century, from 11,891 in 1820 to 15,624 in 1830--an increase of over 31 percent.

After he arrived in Philadelphia, having officially won his freedom in Baltimore, Dorsey needed to find employment. He first appears in Philadelphia public records in 1838, two years after his reported arrival in the city. His name is listed in A Register of Trades of the Colored People in the City of Philadelphia and Districts, a pamphlet published by the Pennsylvania Abolition Society in 1838. In this listing of the city's African-American blacksmiths, masons and tailors, Dorsey is shown as conducting a boot- and shoemaking business at 36 N. Sixth St. Data collected in the register demonstrate that the shoemaking trade was one of the most common for the city's free black men, second only to hairdressing as their most widely claimed form of employment.

The Philadelphia City Directory, published yearly by private compilers between 1793 and 1940, also reveals information about the occupations and addresses of city residents. Dorsey first appears in the 1844 directory and is listed as a waiter employed at 3 0sbourne's Court. Further examination of the directories shows that Dorsey bounced around among four different eating establishments between 1842 and 1860, but he remained employed as a waiter throughout that period. He did not refer to himself as a caterer in the directory until 1861.

The data found in The Philadelphia City Directory may be viewed in several ways. It is entirely possible (though not likely) that Dorsey was a caterer well before 1860 but that he chose not to use that title. There is reason to believe that the term "caterer" did not come into vogue until the 1860s: Before that period, even African Americans known to have performed "catering" duties--the most famous of whom was Robert Bogle, who died in 1837--accepted the title of waiter or cook. Indeed, even the Augustin family, whose catered meals were celebrated as far away as New York City, did not refer to their establishment as a catering house until 1865 (see American Visions, October 1990). Thus it is important to acknowledge that titles that we use and accept today, such as waiter or caterer, may not have always had their present connotations or significance.

Dorsey and other 19th-century blacks in the North aspired to take advantage of their economic situation by opening small businesses that specialized in service. Not only did these endeavors provide African-American entrepreneurs with a monopoly over industries into which few whites would enter, but it also granted them an independence that "skilled" occupations could not offer. Historian Emma Lapsansky, in a 1984 article on community values among 19th-century Philadelphia African Americans published in the Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, explains that "self-employment ... in addition to allowing the ambitious person to maximize his income ... offered the greatest possible insulation against the perils of white hostility. The food trades--ranging from the high-status caterer to the lowly street vendor--were among the most dependable sources of work."

Undoubtedly it was Dorsey's political awareness and his unyielding demand for respect that caused contemporaries to consider him the most prominent of Philadelphia's "high-status caterers," but he also knew his craft. He earned a reputation as a first-rate caterer who was the embodiment of class, honesty and style. At a dinner service served at his establishment at 1231 Locust St. on December 27, 1860, the bill of fare included such delectables as oysters on the half shell, filet de boeuf-pique, canvasback duck, charlotte russe, ladyfingers, and champagne jelly.

On the occasion of Dorsey's death, in 1875, one writer for the Philadelphia Press referred to him as "the negro feast furnisher ... who spread the tables for the marriage supper, or the ball, or the reception; he ... gave character to any entertainment, and [his] presence was more essential than the honored guests."

In The Philadelphia Negro, Du Bois referred to Dorsey as "the most unique character, with little education but great refinement of manner." Another writer, in the Philadelphia Times (1896), concluded that Dorsey was among "the triumvirate of colored caterers who ... rul[ed] the social world of Philadelphia through its stomach."

Dorsey's social reputation in Philadelphia was matched only by his economic success. His obituaries attest to the popular belief that Dorsey was one of the richest black men in the country. Newspapers from as far away as San Francisco, such as the San Francisco Pacific Appeal noted in 1875 that Dorsey was "one of the wealthiest colored men of Philadelphia" and surmised that "after he took up the business of catering, [he] died worth a quarter of a million dollars."

The federal census for 1875 confirms this popular belief, clearly showing Dorsey to be a relatively wealthy man. The value of Dorsey's real estate holdings alone exceeded the combined wealth of Henry Minton and Peter Augustin--two of Philadelphia's other illustrious African-American caterers. Dorsey disclosed to census takers that his real estate property was valued at $62,000 and that the value of his personal property added up to $35,0O0.

The great fortune amassed by Dorsey during the nearly 40 years he worked in Philadelphia's food service industry was enough to allow his family a degree of independence. No family member, however, continued the catering business that Dorsey had established.

The story of Thomas J. Dorsey is, in many ways, similar to those of many African Americans during the 19th century. Dorsey used the economic system already in place when he reached Philadelphia to his best advantage. His commitment to excellence ensured his success and made him one of the most respected African-American men of his era.

The potential value of his story lies in his role as a black entrepreneur and successful businessman. Today the African-American community faces some difficult issues, most of which are economic. Many leaders emphasize the need for blacks to create and support African-American-owned businesses as a means of energizing communities and stabilizing economic futures. By rescuing Thomas J. Dorsey and others from anonymity, we demonstrate the historical continuity and importance of successful black entrepreneurs.

Sharron Wilkins Conrad is a museum educator in Baltimore and a former research associate for American Visions. Her last article for the magazine, "The President's Kitchen," appeared in the February/March 1995 issue.

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