Missouri, 1861. As a civil war rages between the American North and South, tens of thousands of enslaved black men escape bondage to join the Union Army and fight for freedom. Among them is Peter Paul Tottenham, whose young son will be forever changed by his father's sacrifice. This is the story of the first African American Catholic priest, Father Augustus Tottenham. Peter, I need to know you'll be alright. I'm coming back. Soon as we witness, I'm coming back. But you gotta promise me that a thing's get too bad around here. We're gonna take our chances and run. I'll find you wherever you are. Mama? Gus? What's going on? Going back to bed now son, yeah? You leaving us, Pa? Yes I am. Why are you leaving us? Come here. I'm leaving because I love you, Augustus. No man, just spent his life as a slave. You gotta be free son. Free to learn, free to live. Free to go wherever God calls you. Do you understand me? Yes sir. The Union Army is fighting for that freedom. I gotta go and do my part and help him win. I wanna help too. I pray you won't ever have to. But here's what you can do. Take care of your mama till I come back. I will, Pa. Come on Gus. Mama, they're getting close. Look ahead Gus, keep running. Don't look back. Mama, the river. We gotta swim for a baby. No look, a robot over there on the bank. Oh thank you Jesus, climb in Gus, hurry. Now start rolling. Get down Gus. Call the God. Project us. Hold there. You in the phone. This way. Hurry. Mama, who is that? Day down Augustus. We're almost there. Just a few moments will be an Illinois. You'll be free. We're almost there. Just a little closer. That's it. It's all right. You're safe now on this side of the river. I was out for a walk when I heard gunfire. Are you hurt, madam? No, sir. Father. Father, Peter McGear. How are you doing, fella? Gus, baby, you're all right. That was really scary, mama. It's okay. It's over. You're safe now. Where are we, father? Quincy Illinois, madam. You're in a free state now. You hear that Augustus? We made it. You're free. Never forget the goodness of the Lord. Brothers and sisters, we couldn't possibly overstate the profundity of Christ's words, let the little children come to me. Contained within them is the spirit we're all called to embrace. That of a child of God. Then let me be childlike, I say. Let me have the faith and trust of a child to draw me close to God, my father. Now that has all stand to declare our faith. I could see you up at that pool, pit one day of gustus. You play, mama? No, sir. I can picture you clear as day preaching father's words. Visibility, omniam, et, invisibility. Father, Gus, tot. Mama, can I stay and play with the other kids? You just be home in time for supper, you hear? Yes, ma'am. And so I say, brothers and sisters, we can't possibly overstate the profund. The importance of Christ's words, let the little children come to me. So the Africans are preacher now? I told you not to call me that, Samuel. Why not? You're a negro, aren't you? So are you, leave me alone. I just want to practice my sermon. Ew, what's that smell? You stink like tobacco. I forgot the cigar factory. You know that. Why you gotta work? Why can't you're daddy? Don't do that. Oh right, you don't have a daddy. Yes, I do. He ran off and left you behind. He fought with the Union Army so we could be free. He's a hero. He's nothing but a runaway. Samuel, Barnes, would you like to repeat to my face what you've just said to Augustus? No. No What? No father, McEar. That case you should be on your way. Go on now. You needn't listen to him, Gus. He's right. I have to work at the factory because my daddy's not here. What if I'm stuck working there forever? Do you remember my sermon? You have a father in heaven. Draw near to him and he will guide you. I have a feeling he's not going to leave you in that factory forever. That's quitting time everyone. Go home now. Briding early tomorrow. I do enjoy hearing you seeing your hymns, Gus. The line is the work, Mr. Pleasant. Is your stack of leaves? Yes, sir. Oh lord, oh, buddy, sir. You've gotten good at this. You can still in the pants off anyone here. Well, I've been at it for six years now, sir. How would that make you? I'm really 16, sir. Oh, I respect the diligent young man. You keep at it. There's no reason a black man can't rise to the top of this company. Just look at me. You don't real good, sir. You good too. Keep that in mind. Have a good night now. Thank you, Mr. Pleasant. I will. You do the same. And think about what I said. I will, sir. I just wonder if God's got something else for me. Father McGear. Gus, lad. I saw you ahead and figured you must be headed toward the church. I am. Can I walk with you? I'd like that. So you're still working at the cigar factory? Mr. Pleasant, the foreman thinks I could really make something to myself there if I were hard enough. I thought you were hoping to get out of there and back to school. So matter of fact, Father, I will be going back to school. You will. Where? Well, Mama just got permission from Lincoln, the Negro School. Lincoln? Yeah. They said I could attend this winter when the factory's closed. A public school? What's wrong with that? For heaven's sake, Gus. You'll lose your faith in such a place. I won't see it happen. It's my only option, Father. Right. Forgive me, son. I get ahead of myself. I spoke too quickly. That's all right. But now that I know you plan to go to school, here's what I have to say. I expect to see you in St. Peter's School as soon as the factory closes for the season. St. Peter's? That's right. Father, thank you. I, but I don't want to cause any trouble. You let the sisters and me worry about that. I'll make all the arrangements. Agreed? All right. All right. Sure. Agreed. Thank you, Father. Yes, ma'am. Where's Father McGee? Father's hearing confessions at the moment. Would you like to... This is unacceptable. Father McGee. Perhaps I can help you. And who are you? I'm Sister Herlinda. Do you teach the Negro, boy? I teach Augustus. Yes. Good. Then you need to hear what I've come to say. The parents of St. Peter's... What can I do for you, Mrs. Walsh? Father McGee. The parents of St. Peter's School feel it are duty to give you this letter. Yes. It expresses very clearly why it ain't bright that that Negro, boy, Augustus, should be in a school alongside our children. Well, let's have a look at this letter. I see. Augustus told him as a fine student, Mrs. Walsh. One of our best, in fact. More importantly, he's a fine young man. He belongs in our school. Father McGee. You may tell the parents of St. Peter's that I said as much. Good afternoon, Mrs. Walsh. If only they'd be this invested in Sonne Maas. But things with his classmates are right. They're fine, Mrs. Tolton. The children have no qualms with Gus. Only the parents. So it seems... He really is a fine student. Very much behind, but... Father! Stay inside, sister. You two, Mrs. Tolton. You hear me? Yes, Father. All right, who threw Mr. Walsh? Told my wife that letter wasn't going to do nothing. Not when you're dealing with a man whose vision's gone dark. You've just damaged church property. Look what you're doing yourself. Bring a Negro boy into this school. Clear off, now, Walsh. Or I'll send for the authorities. We ain't going to put up with it any longer. Either he goes or the consequences will be on your head. Is that a threat, Mr. Walsh? I wouldn't risk finding out if I was you. I see. Then you may tell the parents of St. Peter's that those who wish to hear my answer should be at Mass this Sunday morning. Now get off these grounds at once. Oh, I'm going. But you might not want to leave these grounds until you've made the right decision, McGear. Father, is everything all right? Not quite. Who was it? What happened? Please excuse me, ladies. I have a sermon to write. Hi, this is Peter Atkinson from the Marybeggers. Tune in to episode two. Do this to hear the next installment of Augustus, Tolton. Listen to all the episodes and discover new shows at the saintspodcast.com. The Marybeggers is the entertainment division of relevant radio.
