We have been to the mayor's office, we have been to the state's attorney's office, we have sent representatives to both these offices, and nothing has been done—possibly something is being done, but nothing of great moment. I think that the colored people feel that they are so insecure in their physical rights that rather than take any chance they're going out and paying whatever the charge is for insurance against bombing.
Another delegation of Negroes in June, 1919, twice attempted to register a complaint with the mayor against bomb outrages. The mayor's secretary, however, refused them an audience with the mayor.
The editors of local daily papers have also been visited by mixed white and Negro delegations in an endeavor to arouse public opinion.
The effect of these delegations and protests has been small. One joint conference with the mayor, chief of police, and state's attorney brought out the information that it was beyond the state's attorney's province to make arrests. The mayor, after some discussion, instructed Chief of Police Garrity to do what he could toward putting a stop to the bombing of Negroes' homes. The chief of police, after explaining the shortage of patrolmen, said he would do so.
The bombing question began to figure in local politics. Charges were made before the primary election of September, 1920, that the city administration had not given Negroes the protection it had promised. The matter of apprehending the "nefarious bomb plotters" was included in the platforms of Negroes running for office, and in those of white candidates seeking Negro votes.
The Commission had neither authority nor facilities for accomplishing what all public agencies had signally failed to do. It could, however, and did, go over the trail of the bombers and collect information which shows that the sentiment aroused in the contested neighborhoods was a factor in encouraging actual violence. Whatever antagonisms there were before the agitation were held in restraint, even though Negroes were already neighbors. Other districts, like Woodlawn and sections of the North Side, undergoing almost identical experiences as those of Hyde Park, have had no violence; the absence of stimulated sentiment is as conspicuous as the absence of violence. In the Hyde Park district, between Thirty-ninth and Forty-seventh streets and State Street and Cottage Grove Avenue, four-fifths of the bombings occurred. All but three of those happening outside the district were against real estate men accused of activities affecting the Hyde Park District. It seemed, especially in the first bombings, that the bombers had information about business transactions which the general public could not ordinarily get. Houses were bombed in numbers of cases long before their occupancy by Negroes. Each of the bombings was apparently planned, and the opportune moment came after long vigil and, as it would seem, after deliberately setting the stage. The first bombing of Binga does not appear to have been the result of resentment of neighbors in the vicinity of his home, for it was his office on State Street that was bombed. His office is in a neighborhood around which there is no contest.
4. OTHER MEANS EMPLOYED TO KEEP OUT NEGROES
The Grand Boulevard Property Owners' Association officially decided that its object should be "the acquisition, management, improvement and disposition, including leasing, sub-leasing and sale of residential property to both white and colored people within the said district heretofore described." This district was to include the area from Thirty-fifth to Sixty-third streets, and from the Chicago and Rock Island Railroad tracks to Lake Michigan.
In August, 1920, the manager of the Association cited an instance in which it had functioned. On Vernon Avenue a white man had sold property direct to Negroes. The next-door neighbor had arranged a similar sale to potential Negro buyers. The neighbor next to him, a widow, loath to lose her home, appealed to the Association. After a conference with the possible Negro buyers, their money was returned to them, the Association purchased the house in question, and the whole matter was thus amicably arranged.
During April, 1920, inquiries were made by the Commission into the unrest caused by rumors that 800 Negro families intended to move into Hyde Park. It developed that May 1, the customary "moving day," was feared both by whites in Hyde Park and by Negroes in and out of Hyde Park. Negroes living there feared that an attempt would be made to oust them by canceling or refusing to renew their leases, and whites thought Negroes might get possession of some of the properties vacated on that date. The Commission found, however, only eighteen instances where leases were canceled on houses occupied by Negroes who were having difficulty in finding other places to live.