A Social History of the American Negro / Being a History of the Negro Problem in the United States. Including A History and Study of the Republic of Liberia

by Benjamin Griffith Brawley

While the Negro soldier abroad was thus facing unusual pressure in addition to the ordinary hardships of war, at home occurred an incident that was doubly depressing coming as it did just a few weeks after the massacre at East St. Louis. In August, 1917, a battalion of the Twenty-fourth Infantry, stationed at Houston, Texas, to assist in the work of concentrating soldiers for the war in Europe, encountered the ill-will of the town, and between the city police and the Negro military police there was constant friction. At last when one of the Negroes had been beaten, word was circulated among his comrades that he had been shot, and a number of them set out for revenge. In the riot that followed (August 23) two of the Negroes and seventeen white people of the town were killed, the latter number including five policemen. As a result of this encounter sixty-three members of the battalion were court-martialed at Fort Sam Houston. Thirteen were hanged on December 11, 1917, five more were executed on September 13, 1918, fifty-one were sentenced to life imprisonment and five to briefer terms; and the Negro people of the country felt very keenly the fact that the condemned men were hanged like common criminals rather than given the death of soldiers. Thus for one reason or another the whole matter of the war and the incidents connected therewith simply made the Negro question more bitterly than ever the real disposition toward him of the government under which he lived and which he had striven so long to serve.

4. [High Tension: Washington, Chicago, Elaine]

Such incidents abroad and such feeling at home as we have recorded not only agitated the Negro people, but gave thousands of other citizens concern, and when the armistice suddenly came on November 11, 1918, not only in the South but in localities elsewhere in the country racial feeling had been raised to the highest point. About the same time there began to be spread abroad sinister rumors that the old KuKlux were riding again; and within a few months parades at night in representative cities in Alabama and Georgia left no doubt that the rumors were well founded. The Negro people fully realized the significance of the new movement, and they felt full well the pressure being brought to bear upon them in view of the shortage of domestic servants in the South. Still more did they sense the situation that would face their sons and brothers when they returned from France. But they were not afraid; and in all of the riots of the period the noteworthy fact stands out that in some of the cities in which the situation was most tense—notably Atlanta and Birmingham—no great race trouble was permitted to start.

In general, however, the violence that had characterized the year 1917 continued through 1918 and 1919. In the one state of Tennessee, within less than a year and on separate occasions, three Negroes were burned at the stake. On May 22, 1917, near Memphis, Ell T. Person, nearly fifty years of age, was burned for the alleged assault and murder of a young woman; and in this case the word "alleged" is used advisedly, for the whole matter of the fixing of the blame for the crime and the fact that the man was denied a legal trial left grave doubt as to the extent of his guilt. On Sunday, December 2, 1917, at Dyersburg, immediately after the adjournment of services in the churches of the town, Lation Scott, guilty of criminal assault, was burned; his eyes were put out with red-hot irons, a hot poker was rammed down his throat, and he was mutilated in unmentionable ways. Two months later, on February 12, 1918, at Estill Springs, Jim McIlheron, who had shot and killed two young white men, was also burned at the stake. In Estill Springs it had for some time been the sport of young white men in the community to throw rocks at single Negroes and make them run. Late one afternoon McIlheron went into a store to buy some candy. As he passed out, a remark was made by one of three young men about his eating his candy. The rest of the story is obvious.

As horrible as these burnings were, it is certain that they did not grind the iron into the Negro's soul any more surely than the three stories that follow. Hampton Smith was known as one of the harshest employers of Negro labor in Brooks County, Ga. As it was difficult for him to get help otherwise, he would go into the courts and whenever a Negro was convicted and was unable to pay his fine or was sentenced to a term on the chain-gang, he would pay the fine and secure the man for work on his plantation. He thus secured the services of Sidney Johnson, fined thirty dollars for gambling. After Johnson had more than worked out the thirty dollars he asked pay for the additional time he served. Smith refused to give this and a quarrel resulted. A few mornings later, when Johnson, sick, did not come to work, Smith found him in his cabin and beat him. A few evenings later, while Smith was sitting in his home, he was shot through a window and killed instantly, and his wife was wounded. As a result of this occurrence the Negroes of both Brooks and Lowndes counties were terrorized for the week May 17-24, 1918, and not less than eleven of them lynched. Into the bodies of two men lynched together not less than seven hundred bullets are said to have been fired. Johnson himself had been shot dead when he was found; but his body was mutilated, dragged through the streets of Valdosta, and burned. Mary Turner, the wife of one of the victims, said that her husband had been unjustly treated and that if she knew who had killed him she would have warrants sworn out against them. For saying this she too was lynched, although she was in an advanced state of pregnancy. Her ankles were tied together and she was hung to a tree, head downward. Gasoline and oil from the automobiles near were thrown on her clothing and a match applied. While she was yet alive her abdomen was cut open with a large knife and her unborn babe fell to the ground. It gave two feeble cries and then its head was crushed by a member of the mob with his heel. Hundreds of bullets were then fired into the woman's body. As a result of these events not less than five hundred Negroes left the immediate vicinity of Valdosta immediately, and hundreds of others prepared to leave as soon as they could dispose of their land, and this they proceeded to do in the face of the threat that any Negro who attempted to leave would be regarded as implicated in the murder of Smith and dealt with accordingly. At the end of this same year—on December 20, 1918—four young Negroes—Major Clark, aged twenty; Andrew Clark, aged fifteen; Maggie Howze, aged twenty, and Alma Howze, aged sixteen—were taken from the little jail at Shubuta, Mississippi, and lynched on a bridge near the town. They were accused of the murder of E.L. Johnston, a white dentist, though all protested their innocence. The situation that preceded the lynching was significant. Major Clark was in love with Maggie Howze and planned to marry her. This thought enraged Johnston, who was soon to become the father of a child by the young woman, and who told Clark to leave her alone. As the two sisters were about to be killed, Maggie screamed and fought, crying, "I ain't guilty of killing the doctor and you oughtn't to kill me"; and to silence her cries one member of the mob struck her in the mouth with a monkey wrench, knocking her teeth out. On May 24, 1919, at Milan, Telfair County, Georgia, two young white men, Jim Dowdy and Lewis Evans, went drunk late at night to the Negro section of the town and to the home of a widow who had two daughters. They were refused admittance and then fired into the house. The girls, frightened, ran to another home. They were pursued, and Berry Washington, a respectable Negro seventy-two years of age, seized a shotgun, intending to give them protection; and in the course of the shooting that followed Dowdy was killed. The next night, Saturday the 25th, Washington was taken to the place where Dowdy was killed and his body shot to pieces.

It remained for the capital of the nation, however, largely to show the real situation of the race in the aftermath of a great war conducted by a Democratic administration. Heretofore the Federal Government had declared itself powerless to act in the case of lawlessness in an individual state; but it was now to have an opportunity to deal with violence in Washington itself. On July 19, 1919, a series of lurid and exaggerated stories in the daily papers of attempted assaults of Negroes on white women resulted in an outbreak that was intended to terrorize the popular Northwest section, in which lived a large proportion of the Negroes in the District of Columbia. For three days the violence continued intermittently, and as the constituted police authority did practically nothing for the defense of the Negro citizens, the loss of life might have been infinitely greater than it was if the colored men of the city had not assumed their own defense. As it was they saved the capital and earned the gratitude of the race and the nation. It appeared that Negroes—educated, law-abiding Negroes—would not now run when their lives and their homes were at stake, and before such determination the mob retreated ingloriously.

Just a week afterwards—before the country had really caught its breath after the events in Washington—there burst into flame in Chicago a race war of the greatest bitterness and fierceness. For a number of years the Western metropolis had been known as that city offering to the Negro the best industrial and political opportunity in the country. When the migration caused by the war was at its height, tens of thousands of Negroes from the South passed through the city going elsewhere, but thousands also remained to work in the stockyards or other places. With all of the coming and going, the Negroes in the city must at any time in 1918 or 1919 have numbered not less than 150,000; and banks, coöperative societies, and race newspapers flourished. There were also abundant social problems awakened by the saloons and gambling dens, and by the seamy side of politics. Those who had been longest in the city, however, rallied to the needs of the newcomers, and in their homes, their churches, and their places of work endeavored to get them adjusted in their environment. The housing situation, in spite of all such effort, became more and more acute, and when some Negroes were forced beyond the bounds of the old "black belt" there were attempts to dynamite their new residences. Meanwhile hundreds of young men who had gone to France or to cantonments—1850 from the district of one draft board at State and 35th Streets—returned to find again a place in the life of Chicago; and daily from Washington or from the South came the great waves of social unrest. Said Arnold Hill, secretary of the Chicago branch of the National Urban League: "Every time a lynching takes place in a community down South you can depend on it that colored people from that community will arrive in Chicago inside of two weeks; we have seen it happen so often that whenever we read newspaper dispatches of a public hanging or burning in a Texas or a Mississippi town, we get ready to extend greetings to the people from the immediate vicinity of the lynching." Before the armistice was signed the League was each month finding work for 1700 or 1800 men and women; in the following April the number fell to 500, but with the coming of summer it rapidly rose again. Unskilled work was plentiful, and jobs in foundries and steel mills, in building and construction work, and in light factories and packing-houses kept up a steady demand for laborers. Meanwhile trouble was brewing, and on the streets there were occasional encounters.

Such was the situation when on a Sunday at the end of July a Negro boy at a bathing beach near Twenty-sixth Street swam across an imaginary segregation line. White boys threw rocks at him, knocked him off a raft, and he was drowned. Colored people rushed to a policeman and asked him to arrest the boys who threw the stones. He refused to do so, and as the dead body of the Negro boy was being handled, more rocks were thrown on both sides. The trouble thus engendered spread through the Negro district on the South Side, and for a week it was impossible or dangerous for people to go to work. Some employed at the stockyards could not get to their work for some days further. At the end of three days twenty Negroes were reported as dead, fourteen white men were dead, scores of people were injured, and a number of houses of Negroes burned.

In the face of this disaster the great soul of Chicago rose above its materialism. There were many conferences between representative people; out of all the effort grew the determination to work for a nobler city; and the sincerity was such as to give one hope not only for Chicago but also for a new and better America.

The riots in Washington and Chicago were followed within a few weeks by outbreaks in Knoxville and Omaha. In the latter place the fundamental cause of the trouble was social and political corruption, and because he strongly opposed the lynching of William Brown, the Negro, the mayor of the city, Edward P. Smith, very nearly lost his life. As it was, the county court house was burned, one man more was killed, and perhaps as many as forty injured. More important even than this, however—and indeed one of the two or three most far-reaching instances of racial trouble in the history of the Negro in America—was the reign of terror in and near Elaine, Phillips County, Arkansas, in the first week of October, 1919. The causes of this were fundamental and reached the very heart of the race problem and of the daily life of tens of thousands of Negroes.