
Few figures in American history are as celebrated — or as contradictory — as Benjamin Franklin. Founding Father, inventor, diplomat, and philosopher. Franklin is remembered for just about everything except the uncomfortable truth that he was also, for much of his life, a slave owner. His relationship with slavery is a study in the slow, painful moral evolution of a brilliant but flawed man — one who spent decades benefiting from the institution he would spend his final years fighting to abolish.
The Slaveowner
Franklin was a slave owner beginning around 1735, and he owned enslaved people until at least 1785 when he freed two slaves after his return from France. Over the course of his life, there were up to seven named slaves in the Franklin household, including Peter, his wife Jemima, their son Othello, and George, John, and King.
Franklin’s complicity in slavery extended beyond personal ownership. As editor of the Pennsylvania Gazette, Franklin benefited financially from advertisements for runaway slaves and slave auctions that were paid for by slave owners and traders. He also used his printing press to publish content that supported the slave trade and, as a British colonial agent, sought to have the British government accept Georgia’s slave code. In short, slavery wasn’t just a private matter for Franklin — it was woven into his professional and financial life. At the same time, he printed Quaker antislavery tracts, a sign that his professional role placed him at the intersection of both pro‑slavery commerce and early antislavery movements.
What little we know about how Franklin treated his enslaved people comes mostly from letters and financial records. In part this is because northern slaveholders kept fewer detailed records of slave families, births, and deaths than large southern planters. His enslaved servants lived within his household and were integrated into domestic routines, a common arrangement in urban slavery that still left them legally and socially unfree.
When Franklin traveled to London in 1757, he brought two enslaved men, Peter and King, who lived and worked at 36 Craven Street. Peter remained with Franklin until their departure in 1762, but King ran away sometime in 1758 and was later found living in Suffolk, having been taken in by a Christian woman who taught him to read and write. The fact that King fled at the first opportunity tells its own story about the nature of slavery, whatever Franklin’s personal demeanor may have been.
His Evolving Written Views
Franklin’s early writings on slavery were at best ambivalent and at worst openly racist. In his 1751 essay “Observations Concerning the Increase of Mankind,” Franklin argued that slave labor wasn’t economically efficient in part because enslaved people pilfered from their owners, writing that “almost every Slave [being] by Nature a Thief.” His concern about slavery in this period was largely economic rather than moral — he worried that it would hurt poor white laborers and enriched a wealthy elite, not that it was a profound violation of human dignity.
By the 1760s, something began to shift. His perspective began to change following a 1759 visit arranged by his friend Samuel Johnson to one of Dr. Bray’s schools for Black children. He also met Anthony Benezet, who had started a school in Philadelphia and would later co-found the Abolition Society. By 1763, Franklin wrote that African “shortcomings” were not inherent but came from lack of education, slavery, and negative environments — and that he saw no difference in learning ability between African and white children.
While in London in the 1760s, he supported black education projects and in 1770 anonymously published “Conversations between an Englishman, a Scotchman, and an American,” a piece that criticized both the slave trade and the broader institution. In 1782 he circulated “A Thought Concerning the Sugar Islands,” condemning the African wars that fed the trade, the horrors of the Middle Passage, and the “numbers that die under the severities of slavery,” arguing that even sugar was morally tainted by blood.
By the late 1780s, Franklin’s language had become openly abolitionist. In 1787 he signed a public antislavery appeal declaring that the Creator had made “of one flesh, all the children of men,” and in 1789–1790 he wrote essays insisting that slavery was an “atrocious debasement of human nature.” He also argued that formerly enslaved people needed education, moral instruction, and employment to make the transition from bondage to full participation in civil society.
This was a meaningful intellectual leap for the era. Franklin was moving from a view of enslaved people as economic units toward recognizing their common humanity and the role that oppression itself played in creating the inequalities he had previously attributed to nature.
Franklin the Constitutional Convention and the Three-Fifths Compromise
By the time of the 1787 Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia, Franklin. then 81 years old, was a delegate from Pennsylvania. The Three-Fifths Compromise — which counted enslaved people as three-fifths of a person for purposes of congressional representation and taxation — was one of the most contentious issues at the Convention. The compromise was formally proposed by delegate James Wilson and seconded by Charles Pinckney.
Franklin’s specific role in the Three-Fifths Compromise itself is limited. His more direct contribution to the Convention’s structural debates was to the Great Compromise about proportional representation and spending rather than the slavery count.
Notably, just weeks before the Convention began, Franklin signed a public antislavery appeal stating that “the Creator of the world” had made “of one flesh, all the children of men.” Yet he ultimately signed a Constitution that embedded protections for slavery, including the Three-Fifths Compromise and a provision preventing Congress from banning the slave trade until 1808. Franklin’s acquiescence reflected his broader pragmatic calculation, shared by many Northern founders, that preserving the Union required compromise with the slaveholding South, even at a terrible moral cost. This is partly speculative — Franklin left few direct written statements about his reasoning on this specific tradeoff at the Convention.
The Abolitionist
Whatever compromises Franklin made at Philadelphia, the years that followed saw him embrace abolitionism with increasing conviction and urgency. In 1787, he began serving as President of the Pennsylvania Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery — the oldest abolitionist organization in the country — which had originally formed in 1775 and was reorganized and incorporated by Pennsylvania in 1789.
In 1789, Franklin wrote and published several essays supporting abolition, including a public address dated November 9th of that year in which he called slavery an “atrocious debasement of human nature.” He called for practical support for emancipated people, including education and employment — ideas that were radical for the time and would remain largely unaddressed for generations.
His final public act was perhaps his most consequential. On February 3, 1790, Franklin signed a petition to the first Congress on behalf of the Abolition Society, asking lawmakers to “devise means for removing the Inconsistency from the Character of the American People” and to “promote mercy and justice toward this distressed Race.” The petition was immediately denounced by pro-slavery congressmen and referred to a committee, which ultimately concluded that the Constitution prevented Congress from acting on the matter until 1808.
Franklin died in April 1790, just weeks after these debates, leaving a legacy that combined early complicity in slavery with later, forceful advocacy for abolition and Black education. As part of his will, he directed all remaining enslaved people in his household be freed upon his death, although it is unclear if he still owned slaves at the time and this may have been a symbolic declaration that he hoped others would follow. His life illustrates both the pervasiveness of slavery in colonial America — even among its most famous reformers — and the possibility, however belated, of moral and political transformation on the issue.
What to Make of It All
Franklin’s association with slavery resists easy conclusions. He spent roughly four and a half decades owning enslaved people, profiting from the slave trade through his newspaper, and diplomatically defending slavery when it served colonial interests. His evolution toward abolitionism was real, but it was also late — and driven partly by visits to schools for Black children and Quaker friendships rather than a spontaneous moral awakening.
At the same time, his final years represent one of the most prominent Founding Fathers publicly and passionately challenging the institution while other contemporaries remained silent or actively defended it. As historian David Waldstreicher has cautioned, Franklin’s antislavery credentials have sometimes been “remembered backwards” and exaggerated — but that doesn’t mean the later evolution wasn’t genuine.
What Franklin’s story offers isn’t a story of redemption so much as a realistic portrait of moral growth under the weight of self-interest, social norms, and political pragmatism. He was, as one observer put it, a man who showed himself to be “thoughtful, open, teachable” — eventually. The tragedy is how long it took, how few followed his lead, and how much damage was done in the meantime.
Illustration generated by author using ChatGPT.
Sources:
Benjamin Franklin House – Franklin and Slavery
https://benjaminfranklinhouse.org/education/benjamin-franklin-and-slavery/
Benjamin Franklin House – The Philadelphia Household 1735–1790
https://benjaminfranklinhouse.org/franklin-and-slavery-the-philadelphia-household-1735-1790/
Online Library of Liberty – Benjamin Franklin and Slavery, Part One
https://oll.libertyfund.org/publications/reading-room/2023-07-05-ealy-franklin-slavery-part-one
Benjamin Franklin Historical Society – Slavery and the Abolition Society
http://www.benjamin-franklin-history.org/slavery-abolition-society/
National Archives – Benjamin Franklin’s Anti-Slavery Petitions to Congress
https://www.archives.gov/legislative/features/franklin
Penn & Slavery Project – Benjamin Franklin
https://pennandslaveryproject.archives.upenn.edu/2025/07/09/benjamin-franklin/
Commonplace: The Journal of Early American Life – Benjamin Franklin, Slavery, and the Founders
https://commonplace.online/article/benjamin-franklin-slavery/
U.S. History – Ben Franklin and the Vexing Question of Race in America
https://www.ushistory.org/franklin/essays/franklin_race.htm
Wikipedia – Benjamin Franklin
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Franklin
Wikipedia – Three-Fifths Compromise
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three-fifths_Compromise
Britannica – Three-Fifths Compromise
https://www.britannica.com/topic/three-fifths-compromise
U.S. Senate – Equal State Representation and the Great Compromise
https://www.senate.gov/about/origins-foundations/senate-and-constitution/equal-state-representation.htm
Wikipedia – Connecticut Compromise
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Connecticut_Compromise
Teaching American History – The Constitutional Convention: The Three-Fifths Clause
https://teachingamericanhistory.org/document/the-constitutional-convention-the-three-fifths-clause/













“86” — A Little Number With a Big History
By John Turley
On May 2, 2026
In Commentary
Fifty some years ago when I was in the Marines, we used the term “86” to refer to something that should be ignored or discarded—in the colorful vernacular of the Corps, “shit canned”. That’s trashed to you civilians. The Marines have never been known as a peaceable lot and we had many colorful euphemisms for doing grievous bodily harm, but “86” was never among them.
So why is “86” suddenly everywhere in the news? Blame James Comey. The former FBI Director posted a beach photo on Instagram showing seashells arranged to spell out “86 47” — and the internet promptly exploded. Republicans argued it was a death threat against the 47th president. Comey said it simply meant he wanted Trump removed from office. That dispute has brought a piece of century-old American slang back into the spotlight, so it’s worth taking a look at what the term means and where it came from.
The Short Answer
Eighty-six is slang meaning “to throw out,” “to get rid of,” or “to refuse service to.” It most likely comes from 1930s soda-counter slang meaning that an item was sold out. This was part of a broader diner code that included: 13 “the boss is around,” 81 “glass of water,” and 95 “customer left without paying”. Over the decades it evolved from a kitchen noun into a verb with broader reach, and today it shows up everywhere from restaurant kitchens to Twitter and now worldwide headlines.
The Longer Answer
Here’s the honest answer: nobody knows for certain. Its etymology is unknown, but it seems to have been coined in the 1920s or 1930s. There are many theories about its origin — one article enumerates 18 possibilities, and another suggests there are “about 86 theories about 86.”
While the leading contender is the mundane diner option, there are several other more or less plausible and frequently more colorful options.
The most linguistically grounded explanation is that “86” is simply rhyming slang. The most common theory is that it is rhyming slang for “nix.” That’s the same “nix” meaning to reject or say no.
One of the more colorful stories involves a Prohibition-era speakeasy. Chumley’s, a bar with multiple entrances including one at 86 Bedford Street in New York. The story goes that the bar was supposedly warned by police before raids. Customers were told to “86 it” — meaning leave through the Bedford Street exit while cops came through the other door. It’s a great story, and if it’s not true it should be.
How It Evolved
First appearing in the early 1930s as a noun, it did not take long for the word to broaden its use beyond the realm of the soda counter. In the 1950s the word underwent some functional shift and began to be used as a verb — initially meaning “to refuse to serve a customer,” and later taking on the slightly extended meaning of “to get rid of; to throw out.”
It was quickly adopted and members of the military services who love slang, shortcuts, and inside terminology. It may just be a coincidence that Article 86 of the U.S. Uniform Code of Military Justice concerns Absence Without Leave, or AWOL.
By the 1970s it had moved well beyond the restaurant world. In the 1972 film The Candidate, a media adviser says to Robert Redford’s character, “OK, now, for starters, we got to cut your hair and eighty-six the sideburns.”
Where It Stands Today
These days, people use “86” when they cancel plans, dump something, or boot someone from a chat. Social media picked it up — Twitter and TikTok users will “86 a trend” or “86 a person” in a heartbeat.
In professional kitchens and bars, it remains “everyday lingo” — one hospitality industry veteran called it “probably the most overused word in hospitality.”
The Comey controversy also resurrected an older, arcane, and darker shade of the term. According to Cassell’s Dictionary of Slang, “to 86” can alternatively mean “to kill, to murder; to execute judicially.” That said, Merriam-Webster notes this use is infrequent, and they do not include this sense due to its relative recency and sparseness of use.
The bottom line is that “86” is one of those wonderfully slippery pieces of American slang that started in a noisy kitchen, picked up mythology along the way, and is now flexible enough to mean anything from “we’re out of the salmon” to a loaded political statement — depending entirely on who’s using it and who’s listening.
Or, perhaps this entire tempest is just the response of one thin skinned man to his pathologic fear of seashells.