Race is complicated. And few aspects of race in America have been more conflicted than the relationship between white people and black veterans. At one extreme, black veterans have been lynched simply for daring to wear their uniforms in public. At the other, they've been held up as the finest representatives of their community. In Charlottesville, Virginia, no African American veterans were lynched. But black men in uniform weren't always honored either. It's a story worth telling. Today, I'm going to tell it about World War I.
Fayette Johnson, Charlottesville, 1919. Photo: Rufus Holsinger. (Click on any photo to see a larger version.)
The Equal Justice Initiative recently issued a report about the violence that black veterans of America's wars faced when they returned home.
From the end of the Civil War to the years following World War II, thousands of African Americans were the victims of lynchings and other forms of racial terror in the United States, often in violent and public acts of torture that traumatized black communities throughout the country.
Frank Robertson, Charlottesville, 1918. Photo: Rufus Holsinger.
After World War I, the era that I'm concerned with here, whites feared that the experience of serving the nation in the armed forces, fighting in a war to save democracy, would encourage black veterans to challenge white supremacy.
Countless African American veterans were assaulted and beaten in incidents of racial violence.... At least 13 veterans were lynched. Indeed, during the violent racial clashes of Red Summer [1919], it was risky for a black serviceman to wear his uniform, which many whites interpreted as an act of defiance.
J.S. White [woman unidentified], Charlottesville, 1919. Photo: Rufus Holsinger.
Senator James K. Vardaman of Mississippi spoke for many white Americans, north and south.
Impress the negro with the fact that he is defending the flag, inflate his untutored soul with military airs, teach him that it is his duty to keep the emblem of the Nation flying triumphantly in the air [and] it is but a short step to the conclusion that his political rights must be respected.
Corporal Emmet T. Whitney, Charlottesville, 1919. Photo: Rufus Holsinger.
Charlottesville's major newspaper, the Daily Progress, shared these anxieties. After members of the 3rd Battalion of the 24th United States Infantry, an African American regiment, resorted to violence to protect themselves from police violence and racial humiliation in what is sometimes called the Houston Riot of 1917, the paper was scathing in its denunciation of the very idea of black soldiers.
The soldiers, who had been charged with mutiny, were now "out of the United States Army," wrote the editor, "and good riddance at that."
How the national authorities hope to ever make reliable soldiers of the darkeys is a problem for future discussion. ...They have proven utterly unfit to serve this country in the responsible capacity of bearing arms. If they must be used, let them be employed as they were in the Confederate Army during the Civil War, as teamsters, camp-helpers and as workmen... They can discharge whatever duty they may technically owe the Nation for their life, liberty and pursuit of happiness... but aside from such tasks, they have no place in an army.... (Daily Progress, 27 June 1917. See below.)
But the Daily Progress didn't speak for every white person in Charlottesville. Just two days later, it published a lengthy letter from Lt. Col. J. A. Cole, U.S. Army (Ret.), in which he vigorously corrected the paper's impression of black troops. He argued that "The hideous outbreak of scattered numbers of a battalion of the 24th Infantry has blasted a good name won by over a half a century of disciplined, faithful and valiant service."
This regiment has always borne a fine reputation. Its ranks were filled with old, self-respecting soldiers who gloried in their strict performance of duty....
Like most whites, Cole believed that African Americans came from a backward culture. "Negro civilization is at the most 250 years old..." But army life had a civilizing effect.
Military training has a wonderful regenerating effect on the negro. He loves it, becomes clean in personal habits, splendidly neat in his dress and equipment, performs his duties with scrupulous fidelity at no matter what cost of wounds or life to himself, is subordinate and devoted to his officers, and, in short, makes a fine soldier."
The colored soldier is not a menace. He is an asset. Let us use him wisely, kindly. (Daily Progress, 29 August 1917.)
In Charlottesville, in 1917, as in rest of the country, an attitude of condescending paternalism was just about the best that a black person could hope for. It sure beat being called a "darkey."
The Daily Progress and white Charlottesville as a whole seem to have gotten over their jitters about black soldiers relatively quickly. When the first African-American men from the area were called to duty, the city -- both blacks and whites -- gave them a rousing farewell. According to the Daily Progress...
One of the greatest patriotic demonstrations of the colored population in this city since the Spanish-American War occurred yesterday afternoon, when they filled the First Baptist Church (colored), on West Main Street to overflowing, in a farewell send-off to the sixty odd young men of their race who were to leave today for their training as soldiers of the Nation at Camp Lee."
The white people of the city lent their aid and presence in making it a community godspeed for the young colored men who will today wear the khaki as soldiers of their country.... (Daily Progress, 27 October 1917.)
That's quite a change from that 1917 editorial about "darkeys." But there's nothing more surprising than the welcome home that white Charlottesvillians gave to its black veterans two years later. At a time when, all over the country, scores of returning African-American veterans were beaten simply for wearing their uniforms in public, at a time when over a dozen were lynched for the crime of doing the same thing, Charlottesville gave them a parade. Remarkably enough, black veterans in uniform joined white veterans in a march through the city that culminated in a ceremony on the Grounds of the University of Virginia.
No, this wasn't a celebration of racial equality. The contingent of black veterans marched behind the white veterans, and, when it came time for the social part of the event, blacks and whites went their separate and unequal ways. Still, what happened in Charlottesville is a historical surprise.
Two days before the parade and public ceremony, the Daily Progress reported that...
The final touches have been given the arrangements and program for the great public celebration on the Fourth of July... in honor of the returning soldiers... and the occasion promises to be by all odds the most unique and notable in the recent annuals [sic] of the community. (Daily Progress, 2 July 1919.)
African Americans were very much a part of the parade, which began at City Hall, in downtown Charlottesville, and ended at the Rotunda of the University of Virginia, about two miles to the west. And not just veterans. A "Colored Band" would march right behind the contingent of white veterans and just in front of the "Returning Colored Soldiers."
At the University, townspeople and veterans would be treated to speeches by local dignitaries and musical selections by the city's Fireman's Band and the Colored Band.
All socializing would be strictly segregated, however. "At the conclusion of speaking," the paper reported, "the Colored Band will lead the colored soldiers and people of Lambeth's Field (Athletic Grounds) where their picnic will be held. After which Base Ball and other games will be played."
Three days later, the Daily Progress reported on the separate African-American celebration.
More than 1500 colored citizens, including a large number from the county, followed he soldiers from the North side of the Rotunda to Lambeth Field yesterday to participate in such a jubilation as has never been witnessed here before. (Daily Progress, 5 July 1919.)
In fact, the city had indeed seen greater jubilation -- it happened on 3 March 1865, when Union troops entered the city, bringing freedom to the over 50% of the population that was enslaved. Nevertheless, the event seems to have been a great success.
Charlottesville's mayor offered a few remarks. Another speaker, James H. Dillard, a son of slave-owners who had become a prominent advocate for improving black schools, spoke of "the futility of wars and called for continued devotion on the part of the negro [sic] to the American flag."
But I suspect that George W. Buckner, who stuck a much more progressive tone, got the loudest ovation of the day. Charlottesville-born, but now living in St. Louis, he was prominent in the Urban League, a pioneering civil rights organization, and a successful businessman. He began by recalling "the part that the negro [sic] had played in the growth of our country...." and went on to make a "strong plea for better schools, larger economic opportunities, [and] greater participation in civic affairs...." Given the rigidity of segregation and white supremacy in the city, these words calling for the recognition of basic constitutional rights would have sounded radical to any white person heard them.
Change came slowly to Charlottesville (and it still has a long way to go, when it comes to racial justice). Just a few years after the war, the local Elks club (the white one; there's a black one, too) advertised its annual blackface minstrel show with a cartoon that mocked black servicemen.
Daily Progress, 26 January 1924.
But I'm not going to let the Elks have the last word. That honor will go to Burnett Watson. Click directly on the image to get a good look. (A much larger version will pop up.) He's saying something to us.
Burnett Watson, Charlottesville, 1919. Photo: Rufus Holsinger.
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A note on the portraits: African Americans hoped that the courage that their young men showed during World War I and the sacrifices that they made would undermine the psychological and moral foundations of white supremacy and lead to an era of racial equality. It didn't happen -- not in Charlottesville and not in the country as a whole. But black soldiers took great pride in their service and understood that America was in their debt, even if most white people refused to recognize it. So it's not surprising that a number of Charlottesville's black veterans donned their uniforms and visited the studio of the city's leading photographer to have their portraits made. Rufus Holsinger's glass plate negatives are now owned by the University of Virginia and can be accessed through its library system.
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Remembering my father, the Reverend Lt. Col. John E. Mason, Sr., U.S. Army (Ret.).
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