A leader of the Underground Railroad in Detroit, William Lambert helped develop an oath among runaway slaves looking to escape to the North. Other rituals included the use of code words such as midnight, meaning “freedom,” and hand signals utilizing knuckles and forefingers.
All races joined together on May 1, 1890, as the procession of carriages left Christ Church Detroit along E. Jefferson Avenue and headed east to Elmwood Cemetery for the burial of William Lambert.
Tokens of respect included a floral piece called “The Gates Ajar,” an offering from the ladies of St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church, of which Lambert had been a founding member. The Odd Fellows honored their deceased brother with a floral representation of the order’s symbol: three interlocking links.
It was a fitting tribute for Lambert, whom the Detroit Free Press called the city’s “most prominent and distinguished colored citizen.”
Born free in Trenton, N.J., in 1817, Lambert was educated by a Quaker benefactor who opposed slavery. As a teenager, he worked as a cabin boy on various Great Lakes ships. By 1838, Lambert had set roots in Detroit, taking employment in a tailoring shop.
During this period, he met George DeBaptiste, a businessman and activist. The Detroit Anti-Slavery Society had already been organized in 1837, the year of Michigan’s statehood, and other such societies were taking root around the state.
While honing his craft, Lambert secretly participated in conducting Southern slaves on the Underground Railroad, the network of safehouses that helped escapees reach freedom in Canada.
Jamon Jordan, official historian for the City of Detroit, estimates 40,000 people came through southeast Michigan en route to Canada, and notes that the activities of the Underground Railroad were often carried out within the purview of legal authorities.
“In some cases, officials were abolitionists themselves, not willing to make arrests,” Jordan says. “In other cases, they didn’t believe the costs were worth it.” Mobs would form to protect the so-called cargo. “Even if the sheriff (or) the deputy won in the end, they were going to lose some people,” Jordan adds.
In one memorable episode, Lambert’s influence came to bear on behalf of Robert Cromwell, a fugitive slave on the run. With Cromwell’s owner, John Dun, in close pursuit, Lambert had Dun jailed until Cromwell made it into Canada.
Prior to the Civil War, Lambert had opened a small tailor and dry-cleaning shop at the corner of Brush and Larned streets. The Free Press recorded he “carried on business in a modest, unpretentious way for a number of years. Subsequently he moved to 273 Jefferson Ave.” Furthermore: “Mr. Lambert was a man of wide information, a student all of his life, and exercised the facility of expressing his ideas and opinions with more than ordinary felicity.”
He contributed articles to the Voice of the Fugitive, Canada’s first newspaper for a Black audience, which was published from 1851 to 1853 in Windsor, Ontario. He also was active in Colored Citizens of Detroit and signed the group’s letter of tribute to Sen. Jacob Howard, the abolitionist pioneer of the Republican party who died in 1871.
Another notable moment had occurred on March 12, 1859, when anti-slavery crusader John Brown arrived in Detroit with 14 runaway slaves from Missouri. Frederick Douglass, the former slave who wrote on the cause of abolition, gave a lecture that was attended by DeBaptiste, Lambert, and others. Later that evening, Brown revealed his plan for a large-scale uprising, and seven months later he conducted his disastrous raid at Harper’s Ferry, W.V.
After the Civil War, Lambert continued to prosper, but in his old age, a doctor diagnosed him with a condition called “incipient softening of the brain.” During the last three months of his life, he “seemed to be losing his mental grasp.” At times, Lambert would be found wandering at night from his “cozy” home at 497 E. Larned St. In the end, he took his own life by hanging himself in the woodshed on his property.
The Free Press said, “Mr. Lambert had accumulated a handsome property, which is estimated at about $75,000.” Survived by his wife (unnamed in contemporary articles) and their six children, he was an enduring model of enterprise and commitment who helped lead Detroit through a turbulent time.
