U. S . H i s t o ry • A f r i c a n A m e r i c a n
Reed
Blacks in the Diaspora Darlene Clark Hine, John McCluskey, Jr., and David Barry Gaspar, founding editors
Tracy Sharpley-Whiting, Herman L. Bennett,
An account of the consequences of a failing economy for the residents of Chicago’s South Side during the early years of the Great Depression “Touches on themes that are compelling for their relevance nearly a century later. The story of economic downturn and its effects —homelessness, joblessness, corruption— are clearly issues of great interest today.” —Kim Butler, Rutgers University
Kim D. Butler, Judith A. Byfield, and Leslie A. Schwalm, editors
The Depression Comes to the South Side
Christopher Robert Reed is Professor Emeritus of History at Roosevelt University in Chicago and author of The Emergence of the Black Metropolis, 1910 –1933; Black Chicago’s First Century,1833–1900; All the World Is Here: The Black Presence at White City (IUP, 2000); and The Chicago NAACP and the Rise of Black Professional Leadership (IUP, 1997).
Bloomington & Indianapolis
The
Depression Comes to the South Side
The economic crisis caused diverse responses from groups in the black community, distinguished by their political ideologies and stated goals. Some favored government intervention, others reform of social services. Some found expression in mass street demonstrations, militant advocacy of expanded civil rights, or revolutionary calls for a complete overhaul of the capitalist economic system. Reed examines the complex interactions among these various groups as they played out within the community as it sought to find common ground to address the economic stresses that threatened to tear the Black Metropolis apart.
Protest and Politics in the Black Metropolis, 1930–1933
iupress.indiana.edu 1-800-842-6796
INDIANA
Depression South Side MECH.indd 1
In the 1920s, Chicago’s South Side was looked upon as the new Black Metropolis, but by the turn of the decade that vision was already in decline—a victim of the Depression. In this timely book, Christopher Robert Reed explores early Depression-era politics in the South Side.
Christopher Robert Reed 7/7/11 11:34 AM
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Blacks in the Diaspora
Founding Editors: Darlene Clark Hine, John McCluskey, Jr., and David Barry Gaspar Series Editor: Tracy Sharpley-Whiting Advisory Board: Herman L. Bennett, Kim D. Butler, Judith A. Byfield, and Leslie A. Schwalm
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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14protest and politics in 15the black metropolis, 1930–1933 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 indiana university press 41 42Bloomington and Indianapolis
The Depression Comes to the South Side Christopher Robert Reed
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This book is a publication of Indiana University Press 601 North Morton Street Bloomington, Indiana 47404–3797 USA iupress.indiana.edu Telephone orders 800-842-6796 Fax orders 812-855-7931 Orders by e-mail
[email protected] © 2011 by Christopher Robert Reed All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The Association of American University Presses’ Resolution on Permissions constitutes the only exception to this prohibition. ∞ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48–1992. Manufactured in the United States of America
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Reed, Christopher Robert. The Depression comes to the South Side : protest and politics in the Black metropolis, 1930-1933 / Christopher Robert Reed. p. cm. — (Blacks in the diaspora) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-253-35652-9 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. African Americans— Illinois—Chicago—Politics and government—20th century. 2. African Americans—Illinois—Chicago—Social conditions—20th century. 3. African Americans—Civil rights—Illinois— Chicago—History—20th century. 4. Depressions—1929—Illinois—Chicago—Social aspects. 5. South Chicago (Ill.)—Politics and government—20th century. 6. South Chicago (Ill.)—Social conditions—20th century. 7. Chicago (Ill.)—Politics and government—20th century. 8. Chicago (Ill.)—Social conditions—20th century. I. Title. F548.9.N4R444 2011 323.1196'073077311—dc22 2011011595 1 2 3 4 5 16 15 14 13 12 11
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To the contributors to Roosevelt University’s rich scholarly tradition of the 1960s: Elizabeth Balanoff St. Clair Drake Charles V. Hamilton Paul Johnson Don S. Kirschner August Meier Lorenzo Dow Turner Frank Untermyer Alice Zimring
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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16“[Twenty] banks have closed their doors in Chicago on Monday and 17Tuesday. This morning the Lincoln State Bank closed—these banks . . . 18all in the Colored district. It is terrible. The Douglass Bank is the only 19bank open in our district.” —Archie L. Weaver to Robert W. Bagnall, June 10 1931, 20 Papers of the NAACP, Library of Congress 21 22 23 24“Chicago is one of the hardest hit cities as far as unemployment is 25concerned.” —Archie L. Weaver to Roy Wilkins, June 17, 1932, 26 Papers of the NAACP, Library of Congress 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 recto runningfoot
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1 2contents 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 Preface xi 17 18 Introduction 1 19 20 1. The Impact of the Depression on Home Life, Institutions, and 21 Organizations 9 22 2. The Ineffectiveness of Conventional Politics 35 23 3. Protest Activism in the Streets: An Alternative to Conventional 24 Politics 66 25 4. Organized Protest Responses—From Militant to Revolutionary: 26 The NAACP and the Communist Party 96 27 28 5. Organized Efforts in Behalf of Civil Rights 122 29 6. Cultural Stirrings and Conclusion 132 30 31 notes 145 32 bibliography 167 33 index 177 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 recto runningfoot
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1 2Preface 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16The last several decades have witnessed a resurgence of popular interest 17into the dynamics of life in Chicago’s famed black South Side community 18during the first half of the twentieth century. This curiosity has, in turn, 19accelerated academic inquisitiveness about the historic Black Metropolis. 20For its part, recent scholarship has combined with outstanding past aca21demic as well as literary production from the likes of Langston Hughes, 22Richard Wright, Gwendolyn Brooks, Lorraine Hansberry, and many 23others to revive the saga of the Black Metropolis, now euphemistically 24referred to as Bronzeville. The trials and triumphs described and analyzed 25in St. Clair Drake and Horace Cayton’s tome, Black Metropolis (1945), have 26informed both lay and academic readership as to what historian Leon 27F. Litwack has labeled interior history. More accurately, Black Metropo28lis now represents the model still in use for understanding the African 29American experience in the North during the early twentieth century. 30 The historical impact of one of the last century’s most traumatic expe31riences, the Great Depression, along with its accompanying feature, 32global war, had yet to be examined as to its effects from the point of view 33of the Black Metropolis. This volume tackles the task of exploring histor34ical occurrences during the initial period of the Depression’s devastation 35and up to immediately before the advent of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s ame36liorative New Deal programs in 1933. With documentation and interpre37tations from the ideological Left and middle grounds now more acces38sible, these have been carefully combined with the reports of traditional 39mainstream sources. The Depression Comes to the South Side: Protest 40and Politics in the Black Metropolis, 1930–1933 aims to answer hereto41fore unanswered or misunderstood questions as to the extent of black 42involvement in the struggle for economic survival four generations ago. recto runningfoot
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The stereotype of the passive citizen of the South Side, as found in the Julius Rosenwald Papers and distilled in the epigram to chapter 4, or even in the protagonist of Richard Wright’s Native Son, has gained as much popular credibility as the image of the Chicago residents who populated the pages of Drake and Cayton’s Black Metropolis, and who often risked their lives in active pursuit of economic and social justice. Thanks to stimulating suggestions over several decades from Professors John H. Bracey Jr. and John E. Higginson of the University of Massachusetts at Amherst to investigate the actions of the usually unsung activists of the Depression decade, such as workers Harry Haywood and Odis Hyde, this book took a more comprehensive view of activism beyond that associated with the traditional reform organizations of the period. Likewise, noted civil rights attorney Lawrence Kennon and publisher Bennett Johnson reminded me that the activities of Communist Claude Lightfoot, another participant-observer of the 1930s, could not be overlooked. Importantly, the informative research, conversations, and writings of the late Professors August Meier and Elliot M. Rudwick at Kent State University aided me in an appreciation of the Chicago NAACP, the Chicago Urban League, and various ad hoc organizations, and the roles they played in guiding the Black Metropolis’s vast population to survive this economic ordeal. Scholarly advice flowed as readers of this manuscript in its roughest form braved the author’s sometimes complex, often confusing concepts and interpretations and rendered their valued criticisms and suggestions. Dean Lynn Y. Weiner of Roosevelt University and Pia Hunter of the University of Illinois at Chicago volunteered first and stayed the course, to their credit and benefit. They were joined in this effort by Marionette Catherine Phelps, who has proved a faithful and insightful reviewer. Moreover, Professors Clovis Semmes, Robert T. Starks, Timuel D. Black; Darlene Clark Hine, and Robert Howard, all members of the Black Chicago History Forum, demonstrated that organization’s valuable role as they provided insight and clarifications on key historical events in Chicago history. Acknowledgment must be accorded the staff at the Harold Washington Library Center of the Chicago Public Library for their professional approach to scholarly research over many years. Their ranks included Theresa Yoder and Maja Walsh in Special Collections, Warren Watson and George Tibbits in the Reference Division, and Ronisha Epps and Claudia Armstrong in Microfilms. At the offices of the Chicago Landmarks Commission, where the author serves as a member, Brian Goeken, Susan E. Perry, Terry Tatum, Heidi Sperry, Matt Crawford, and Beth Johnson provided needed assistance through their deep xii 12
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1 2knowledge of Chicago’s architecture and design. Librarian Pia Hunter, 3assisted by microfilm technicians April Pittman and Delores Thomas, at 4the main library at the University of Illinois at Chicago were generous in 5lending their skills as this project proceeded. Lastly, at my alma mater, 6Roosevelt University, I received continuous technical assistance from 7Lynnett Davis, Rosalyn Collins, Helen Taylor, Dayne Agnew, Cheryl 8Williams-Sledge, Jaime Reyes, Vincent Perkins, Bernard Turner, Heidi 9Foster, Mary Foster, and Chris Mich, as well as printing assistance from 10Wayne Magnus and Richard Woodfork. 11 The editorial staff at the Indiana University Press encouraged the pro12duction of this book, along with providing valuable suggestions. So, loud 13huzzahs go out to editorial director Robert J. Sloan and project manager 14Brian Herrmann, along with copyeditor Emma Young. The entire Reed 15family, including my wife, Marva, children, and grandchildren, as well 16as Wallene Evens and Rev. John D. Slaughter, Sr., contributed in various 17ways to what exists in the end as a personal salute to courageous and 18determined Chicagoans of the 1930s. 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 recto runningfoot preface
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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8Double-Consciousness and the Emergence 9 10of the Decolonized Text/Subject 11 12 13 14 15 16 On 31st Street the old Royal Gardens Cabaret has been converted into 17 a shelter. Incognito under its chaste green and white paint the ornately 18 carved ceiling and deep stairway betray its frivolous, gaudy past. The years 19 gone and fewer, here was the centre of Chicago’s “night life.” —Thyra Edwards, 1932 20 21 22 23In Dickensian terms, if the decade of the 1920s, dubbed the Jazz or Aspi24rin Age, represented the best of times with the emergence of a racially 25self-contained Black Metropolis of national renown, then the decade 26of the 1930s certainly illustrated all aspects of the worst of times. Both 27the black-run political machine and the strength of the political econ28omy that had supported the Black Metropolis 1through its black-owned 29banks and myriad businesses had disappeared. In contrast, the buoyant 30gaiety of the previous decade in the creative arts, impressively expressed 31in jazz, blues, dance, and the visual arts, maintained its energy despite 32general economic distress. In the shadow of the nation’s worst economic 33collapse, the declining quality of life for the African American residents 34of Chicago’s vaunted South Side community reached a nadir. At least it 35seemed that way, first to the few and then to the many, as the ravages 36of the economic depression swept through the entirety of the African 37American community’s multilayered class structure, just as they had the 38whole city. 39 The abandonment of the once proud Royal Gardens Cabaret on 31st 40Street displayed the most convincing evidence that the economy was, 41more than faltering, in a state of perpetual free fall. The cabaret was 42transformed from its former status as a vital entertainment venue and
Introduction
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converted into a shelter for the homeless of all races. The public was experientially divided: some stood in disbelief of what they were witnessing, while others were left nodding their heads in affirmation at the steady deterioration of the entirety of the American economy. The process of economic disintegration had begun slowly around 1926 and then accelerated into full force over the next four years. By 1930, economic experts, displaced workers, and distressed housewives were all talking with equal readiness about the four successive quarters of the shocking decline in all sectors of the nation’s economy, while day by day and dollar by shrinking dollar the public experienced it in all its devastation. This unraveling of the nation’s economic fabric in employment, business, credit, and public confidence spared no race or region, so the Black Metropolis faced the probability of decline and subsequent disappearance as quickly as it had emerged. On the cusp of a national catastrophe, hope shone through in very few areas. Foreboding signs of economic dislocation appeared as early as 1926, notwithstanding the somewhat idyllic picture of industrial and overall economic stability presented by E. Franklin Frazier and Claude A. Barnett on the eve of the Great Depression (that picture of the twenties has since been challenged by historical writer Gareth Canaan).2 By 1926–1927 prevailing unemployment became an accurate barometer of the state of the economy.3 The truthfulness of the old economic adage depicting the precarious position of the black worker in the American labor force as being “the last hired, the first fired” began to take its toll within the Black Metropolis and throughout the surrounding black enclaves. The formation of the Joint Committee for Employment within the Black Metropolis, aimed at amelioration of the crisis, illustrated the larger response.4 At the same time, the Chicago Urban League likewise geared its resources to fight this pending disaster. Both the records of the Chicago Urban League and the Chicago Defender indicated that unemployment of black workers was growing. College students who belonged to the Washington Intercollegiate Club responded by volunteering and canvassing the South Side in cooperation with the League “to create a greater number of positions and jobs for Negroes.”5 The Chicago Urban League subsequently directed its energies in 1927 to increasing employment for high school–educated black youth in stores located within their communities, where black patronage was high.6 As economic conditions worsened at the end of the decade, African Americans responded in a well-organized fashion with a “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work” campaign directed against the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company in 1929. The objective was simple:
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1 in the Black Metropolis return an 2make every hard-earned dollar spent 7 additional benefit of job creation. Significantly, this campaign repre3 sented the opening phase of a movement that would eventually sweep 4 5the largest cities of the North. Inaugurated by the Chicago Whip, it was 6the manifestation of organized, non-union protest by workers both 7within and outside the ranks of labor. Another phenomenon appeared 8simultaneously with the advent of direct-action protest as a means to 9promote the economic interests of African Americans. 10 On a very personal level, depositors at the Binga State bank began 11to live out of their savings after having “saved for a rainy day. That day 12had arrived and the response of the black community was both timely 13and appropriate, personal and organizational. Withdrawals of deposits bigger problems ahead and accounted for the individual’s 14forecast even 8 reaction. ” The next decade, the 1930s, would bring a level of economic 15 deprivation that shattered dreams and even hopes for a better future. The 16 17challenge to the creators and supporters of the Black Metropolis was to 18maintain its stability with a vision for growth in the distant future. The 19question of the day became, would the buoyancy of the Black Metropolis 20give way to the dismalness of the Black Belt period that had preceded the 21halcyon days of the 1920s? 22 In order to understand the hitherto unexplained complexities of 23thinking and behavior in the declining Black Metropolis of Chicago’s 24South Side, an exploration of the linkages between various channels, 25or avenues, employed in the search for amelioration and resolution of 26the most severe results of economic depression seems warranted. The 27latter circumstances included the threat of starvation; grueling mal28nutrition; massive, unrelenting unemployment; and homelessness. In 29their disparate efforts to accomplish their goals, proponents of various 30initiatives bolstered by distinct ideologies or doctrines ranged across 31the spectrum in their choices of possible actions. These included the 32conventional approach found in positive governmental intervention; 33the reformist thrust utilized in social service activities; the iconoclastic 34actions appearing in massive, organized as well as unorganized, street 35demonstrations; the militant activism found in expanded civil rights 36advocacy; and the revolutionary undercurrent present in the rhetoric 37of Marxism-Leninism that was activated by an attempt at a complete 38overhaul of the capitalist economic system. When the worst effects of 39decades of uncontrolled monopoly capitalism resulted in the financial 40collapse of October, 1929 that triggered the Great Depression of the 411930s, ordinary citizens looked to various levels of government and the 42two major political parties for solutions. These avenues of remediation introduction
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proving to be totally ineffective, the door opened to individual, group, and organizational initiatives to achieve an end to the crisis. Organized efforts seeking to improve conditions entered the stage of stultification and near collapse. Securing jobs rested as the core of the solution, no matter the channels chosen or the efforts expended. The political economy had always acted to supply work, whether through government, corporate, or small business opportunities. So, the potential for the American dream to remain alive and open to all was threatened by the magnitude of the existing crisis. Now, with a loss of effectiveness throughout the structures and system of job creation, citizens pursued other means to remedy their problems. Some bright spots appeared in the collaboration between politics and protest, as exemplified by the black state legislators and the Chicago NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) applying pressure group tactics on white legislators throughout the state to force contractors to use more equitable hiring practices. Another bright spot was the coordinated efforts of African American politicians who allied with the federated Colored Citizens World’s Fair Council to increase hiring and prevent discrimination on the fairgrounds upon the opening of A Century of Progress, or as the event was popularly known, the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair. As important as racial consciousness, solidarity, and self-help had become in the public mentality during this period of crisis, these features of black culture merely acted as impediments to seeing the fullest dimensions of the problem and its needed solutions. Even the Communists who railed against the superficiality of race as an issue of importance endorsed as a means toward change the concept of Black Belt nationalism in the southern United States and in northern cities such as Chicago. This became official party policy at the Sixth World Congress of the Third International, held in 1928. When Washington State resident Horace R. Cayton arrived in Chicago in the fall of 1931, he certainly did not have an inkling of what to expect in the city. The demographic features staggered his imagination, as he confronted hundreds of thousands of African Americans when he had been used to only dozens at large public events in his former hometown, Seattle.9 As he documented, the formidable and pervasive influences of the Great Depression extended beyond its effects on individuals and families to dampen the political and the major race advancement and protest organizations on the South Side as the Black Metropolis foundered. Despite the high spirits evident in the twenties, the economic deprivation of the thirties seemed to drain every aspect of life of its vitality.
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1 2 In the absence of satisfactory plans to solve the basic ills of the 3Depression, frustration among the masses grew in intensity. As a result, 4the streets became the venues of last resort for those seeking to cope 5with the problems of the Depression, a phenomenon manifested in the 6“Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work” campaign, the “Street 7Car Riots” and subsequent outdoor demonstrations, the eviction distur8bances and riot of August 3, 1931, and the relief office disturbances. Yet, as 9dramatic as these episodes of protest were, in immediate terms they were 10futile in a metropolitan society whose locus of power was Chicago City 11Hall. On a more positive note, though, they did drive a point home: the 12theatrics of the Communist Party, and the protest of the Chicago Whip 13and the aspiring street car workers did ramp up the volume of public 14pressure that led to New Deal changes, making some previously unat15tainable goals appear suddenly reachable. 16 The most important question involving organizational relationships, 17however, remained whether politics could exist alongside race and pro18test organizations in a condition that was based on more than antagonis19tic missions. Interestingly, politics, as a force with the capability to make 20and change public policy in regard to race and economic relations, had 21a minor salutary, but a major deleterious effect on the operations of race 22advancement and protest organizations. Black politicians, with their 23access, albeit limited, to policy-making apparatuses in the city, the state, 24and the nation were in positions to directly influence the quality of black 25life during the early years of the Depression. However, they lacked the 26necessary will and power to initiate change in the social and economic 27sphere, because public policy dictated that a laissez faire approach be fol28lowed. During this period, public offices for blacks proved to be worth29less commodities. Only a response that was massive in scope and that 30emanated from a locus such as Washington could solve the problems of 31the Depression. This response finally came when the national elections 32of 1932 brought Franklin D. Roosevelt into power in March 1933 with his 33comprehensive New Deal program aimed directly at the ills and, impor34tantly, the root causes of the Depression. 35 During the first three years of the Depression decade, the temper 36of the times dictated a comprehensive and well-organized approach to 37solve the problems of social deprivation and dislocation of the economy. 38The political organizations of both major parties experienced failure in 39programmatic changes meant to meet the immediate needs of the times 40until the introduction of the programs of the New Deal in 1933. Most 41importantly, black political activities represented an aberration in Chi42cago politics. African Americans consistently introduced the element introduction
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of race into their political actions and decisions at a time when whites were primarily focusing on the economic conditions of the period. Part of the answer was found in the racial thinking that pervaded the Black Metropolis, but the leadership provided by Congressman Oscar DePriest and the other black politicians who belonged to the black South Side’s Republican submachine also contributed to this pattern of political development.10 That blacks could continue to ignore the economic realities of the day in their politics is also explainable by the precarious position they held in the city’s economy, one in which they had never advanced beyond racial limits because of existing racism, even during the city’s halcyon days. The distress of the Depression decade merely brought a continuation of the same dismal conditions they had always experienced. The lack of a clear expression of black dissatisfaction manifested at the polls in national, state, and local elections was understandable in light of what blacks primarily wanted out of life in America: their full rights and privileges as citizens. To blacks, economic betterment would come as a result of the winning of these rights and privileges. The Great Depression influenced black political thought and behavior most by raising doubts about Republican leadership, especially Mayor William “Big Bill” Thompson and Congressman Oscar DePriest, as the party’s once dominant position was weakened by the rise of the Democrats, led locally by machinebuilding Mayor Anton “Tony” Cermak. This need to break with the Republican Party and embrace the more progressive Democratic Party of Roosevelt was a process delayed until the decade’s end by the strength of racial ideology. With the political channel demonstrating only impotence as to the probability of major change, heightened activism emanating from the major organizations and unexpectedly from the masses in the streets presented alternative choices. Economic conditions caused significant changes as well within the structures, operations, and agendas of the Chicago Urban League, the Chicago NAACP, and the Chicago chapter of the Communist Party as they were pressured to develop and offer opportunities of a different kind to black Chicago. The League suffered financially, faced the threat of its possible demise, and consequently changed the direction of its program to become a virtual dispenser of relief. It did, however, manage to survive organizationally over the long haul. Its sister organization, the Chicago NAACP, transformed itself into an organization that could perform effectively in the economic arena under the ideological leadership of two diametrically opposite presidents in the personages of a physician, Dr. Herbert Turner, and a
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1 2militant newspaper editor, A. C. MacNeal. From tacit support to street 3activism in pursuit of jobs, it poised itself to combat both discriminatory 4employment practices and violations against the civil rights of African 5Americans. In fact, its Legal Redress Committee ramped up its over6sight of the New Deal federal agencies created to increase employment 7opportunities, as well as its monitoring of the hiring of workers at the 8larger utilities, such as Illinois Bell Telephone Company and Commonsuch as Sears, International Harvester, 9wealth Edison, and corporations 11 Bowman, and Borden Dairies. Rather than yield the role of combating 10 racism and economic injustice to the Communist Party, it became an 11 active competitor. 12 13 The Communist Party seemingly thrived as it rallied behind a banner 14of extreme protest because of the apparent collapse of the American eco15nomic system that it vehemently opposed. It was, nonetheless, relatively 16ineffective in its attempts to control first a stagnant Republican-domi17nated milieu and then a progressive Democratic one. Operating within 18this catastrophe for conventional politics seemed ideal for the Commu19nist party, which claimed the sole responsibility for protecting the eco20nomic rights of the masses. The people of the South Side, on which each 21organization depended for membership and financial support, gave sup22port to the Communist Party as well as the other organizations, but it 23was limited and rarely extended to heavily participatory involvement. 24During this period, when blacks were dissatisfied with the actions or 25inactions of the political or civic organizations, they engaged in activi26ties that were initiated by ad hoc and special interest groups (more often 27than not inspired by Communist rhetoric) within their midst and led by 28nontraditional or unconventional leadership. 29 Well in advance of the Great Depression, black Chicago had accom30modated itself to economic deprivation. Blacks being the last hired and 31the first fired, their mounting unemployment rates during the late twen32ties acted as the first indicators of trouble not only for them, but for the 33entire city and nation. Their vaunted “Dream of a Black Metropolis” 34foundered, unfortunately, on the rocks of the Great Depression. The two 35black banking giants failed, as did one of the three community insurance 36giants and its real estate empire, along with so many smaller businesses. 37Likewise, the other arm of the political economy, politicized govern38ment, revealed itself as no match for challenging conditions. 39 The era of the Great Depression, moreover, produced both economic 40and technological disruptions that counterbalanced artistic promise. 41Aesthetic production accompanied by popular approval never ceased, 42but it was stymied by a dwindling consumer base. The two encouraging introduction
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glimmers of hope arrived in 1933 with President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal and Chicago’s hosting of its second world’s fair, dubbed A Century of Progress. One was substantive and produced far-reaching effects; the other was psychologically uplifting, if only over the span of two summers.
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1 2one 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10Double-Consciousness and the Emergence 11of the Decolonized Text/Subject 12 13 14 15 16 The Negro in his present strait has lost his traditional readiness either to 17 laugh or sing through a difficulty . . . This present dilemma is incompre18 hensible and the voluble, laughing Negro silent and inarticulate. —Thyra Edwards, “Chicago in The Rain,” 1932 19 20 21 22Nineteen-thirty brought the first full year of the Great Depression and 23with it the advent of massive economic deprivation for almost every 24Chicagoan. Economic conditions in Chicago were quite dismal dur25ing the three years of the Depression that preceded the New Deal. Eco26nomic indicators show that deprivation was prevalent throughout the of goods 27period, with a decline in both the quality of life and quantity 1 28and services financially affordable for people to purchase. Contempo29rary descriptions also provide ample evidence as to the pervasiveness of 30the crisis. The Chicago Defender in 1930 reported an increase in the num-2 31ber of beggars on the streets of the South Side as unemployment grew. 32For its part, the front pages of the Chicago Tribune during the summer of a concern with the possibility of revolution in the streets of 331931 reflected 3 Chicago. The conservative sheet heralded the arrival of a class upheaval 34 brewing in the streets of Chicago with the bold headline, “Reds Riot: 3 35 36Slain By Police.” A confrontation involving an eviction at 50th and Dear37born Streets between sheriff ’s bailiffs and their police guards on the one 38hand, and on the other a massive crowd of over 5,000 socially aroused 39blacks (with some whites) resulted in the deaths of three demonstrators 40and injuries within the ranks of both the authorities and protestors. 41 No longer a barely discernible portion of the city’s massive popula42tion, by this time the African American population had reached 233,903
The Impact of the Depression on Home Life, Institutions and Organizations
The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
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persons, the result of continuous migration throughout the previous decade despite an unstable labor market. The growing African American community, always a source of pride to the racially conscious segment of the population, now made up 6.9 percent of the city’s 3,376,438 residents. The bulk of this population resided in the overcrowded and aging district referred to popularly as the “South Side,” as though the tens of thousands of white South Siders surrounding this constant expanding enclave did not matter. Academic pronouncement would several years later honor the area with the proud title of the “Black Metropolis.”4 The historical Black Metropolis, as a virtual city within a city, existed in actuality and not just in a latter day’s imagination, beginning in the post–World War I period. It featured an impressively near-independent level of black political control over black-dominated districts (the Second and Third Wards) that was the envy and aspiration of African Americans nationally. The heartbeat of the Black Metropolis was Chicago’s main north-south artery, State Street, stretching from 22nd Street on the north to 51st Street on the south. This thoroughfare boasted an impressive and successful concentration of businesses and two banks that were held in awe throughout black financial circles nationally. African Americans resided on either side of State Street to a depth of roughly one-half mile to the west at Wentworth Avenue, to one full mile to the east at Cottage Grove Avenue. Equally impressive was the broadened consumer base that frequented the Black Metropolis’s businesses, the result of a comparatively large industrial proletariat with slightly over a decade’s experience in that sector. These factors were being threatened by a stagnant economy with the negative strength to stymie recently achieved progress. Prior to World War I, labor in the service and domestic sectors predominated. Significantly, throughout the Depression the pride and dignity of the entire Black Metropolis and all of black Chicago were challenged daily by the forces of an economic catastrophe no one seemed capable of harnessing. In general, however, for almost a century, blacks had enjoyed only marginal employment as a part of the city’s workforce. For them, the thirties mostly represented a continuation of the trend in rising unemployment that faced black workers in the late twenties. In 1930, as the city’s industries began to close down and displace their white workers, the majority of all black workers (at least two-thirds), were still concentrated in mostly menial, unskilled, and semi-skilled occupations in the service sector.5 So, while the depression produced one kind of change for whites, its influence over a basically rural-oriented,6 marginally employed, and socially proscribed people differed in both kind and degree of severity. 10
the depression comes to the south side
1 2 The influence of the Great Depression was felt by the entirety of the 3city’s workforce, with effects that were total and devastating. It produced 4changes in individual lives that collectively assumed dramatic dimen5sions. White workers lost their sense of security, dignity, and hope as 6advancing economic dislocation paralyzed the city’s ability to main7tain its industrial and commercial capabilities. Temporary layoffs and 8underemployment (sometimes achieved as a result of the displacement 9of black workers) evolved into full-fledged and permanent periods of 10unemployment. 11 While the effect on black Chicagoans was adverse too, they did not 12have as much to lose in a material sense, as they7 had begun feeling the 13worst effects of the economic depression earlier. There was a difference 14in experiences based on class, with black middle- and middling-class 15individuals suffering despite their professional and semi-professional 16standing. 17 18The Effect of the Depression on Hearth and Home 19 For the general population the effects of the depression were devastat20 ing. In housing, the number of evictions increased dramatically in 1931, 21 and the population of the black South Side alone accounted for nearly 22 one-quarter of the city’s relief cases.8 These events occurred during a 23 period when the Chicago Urban League was reporting that 45 percent of 24 the black workforce and 40 percent of the white workforce were unem25 ployed.9 A look into the ubiquitous service sector illustrates the extent of 26 the problem. 27 Working-class women who had had their jobs in the domestic field 28 wiped out (because their employers either lost their income stream or 29 faced such a reduction that the luxury of household assistance became 30 too expensive) now resorted to a work pattern to which packinghouse 31 workers had become accustomed. They assembled en masse and negoti32 ated with women who could afford to hire day workers to assist in their 33 households. In a setting black women referred to as a slave market at 34 Roosevelt Road and Halsted Street, they haggled daily for work, just as 35 their counterparts did in New York’s “Bronx slave market.”10 36 Well-known social worker Thyra J. Edwards captured the poignancy 37 of the period on the other side of the gender line after she visited a shel38 ter for men that occupied the basement of the popular Unity Hall at 3140 39 South Indiana Avenue. The line of hungry, unemployed men extended 40 out of an alley as better-off neighbors complained of their presence on 41 the sidewalks. She saw some men who looked as though they had just 42 The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
11
abandoned professional life now no longer distinguishable from other men who had labored in the trenches for a lifetime. All were reduced to a state of near-total dependence on others. “There was a dreary absence of conversation among the eight hundred men then at ‘mess.’ The Negro in his present strait has lost his traditional readiness either to laugh or sing through a difficulty. This present dilemma is incomprehensible and the voluble, laughing Negro silent and inarticulate.”11 Housing was available a few blocks away from the food shelters. There, after their meal, hundreds of these same men dragged themselves onto cots and relief from the elements. One-half mile away from Liberty Hall on East 31st Street, the old Royal Gardens Cabaret now also served as a place where a night’s sleep was available to the homeless, both white and black. Edwards lamented: The years gone and fewer, here was the centre of Chicago’s ‘night life,’ a favored rendezvous of young white women from the gold coast and sleek, brown men. A jazz orchestra wailed nightly and there was never floor space . . . [now,] here [is] where eight hundred men sleep. Long rows of army cots and to each man two sheets, two blankets and a nightie . . . It was only 8:00 o’clock but most of the men had retired although curfew is at 9:00 o’clock.12
The depression was no respecter of class. Beyond working people, now suffering because of unemployment, the semi-professional and professional members of black society felt the full pangs of distress. After three years of this grueling economic dislocation, the NAACP’s field director found that Chicago was “in perhaps the worst plight of any of our cities, with school teachers, policemen, firemen, and city workers of all classes unpaid for months. . . . [Compounding the problem,] the working class is [even] harder hit, if that be possible, than the professional and clerical class.”13 Examples abounded on a very personal level. Recently married Mrs. Ida Mae Cress of the Old Settler Griffin family line worked for the Board of Education as a kindergarten teacher until the depression hit and she was laid off because of a shortage of funds. Fortunately for her, the city started a nursery school program (predating the Head Start program of the 1960s) into which she was hired.14 The Duster family of Old Settler Barnett-Wells lineage lived one-half mile west of the Cress family and the two were linked beyond their family trees. University of Chicago graduates Benjamin and Alfreda Duster suffered through the era around the 3300 block of South Prairie Avenue, a location, as Mrs. Duster reported in the thirties, that was by then considered undesirable. The families that 12
the depression comes to the south side
1 2were well-to-do had moved farther south beyond 51st Street and into the 3Washington Park community. Mr. Duster faced unemployment despite 4impressive academic credentials. Mrs. Duster recounted how her hus5band performed some unknown (and never identified) work duty far 6below his university training in order to make ends meet. “He left early 7on Thursday mornings and returned home late and exhausted, never 8uttering a word about his exertion in behalf of providing for his family.” meals so she could 9A neighbor deliberately cooked overlarge breakfast 15 share her abundance with her younger neighbors. 10 11 Howard University law graduate Oscar C. Brown Sr. arrived in Chi12cago in 1925 and began a practice as well as a family. When the depres13sion came, he and his family were hit just as hard. As he recalled: 14 15 Living was extremely difficult at the time, because there was not enough to 16 buy the bare necessities of life. Our law associates and a few others would 17 get together and pool our little money and divide it among all of us so no 18 one would be without. If misery loved company, we at least would enjoy 19 unlimited companionship. For a great many Negroes in the United States 16 20 of America, the depression was not an era; it was a constant way of life. 21 22 The economic crisis affected housing too, but not everyone suffered 23equally. For the poor, the problem came in the appearance of law enforce24ment officers carrying orders of eviction for non-payment of rent or a 25mortgage installment. For the upper and middle classes, it meant meet26ing the opposition of whites who ostensibly wanted to keep their neigh27borhoods racially pure, and who resorted to the use of restrictive hous28ing covenants to do so. Within what was once the Old Settlers enclave 29east of South Park Way and south of 31st Street, a mix of people devel30oped that befuddled young newspaper delivery boy George Johnson as 31he traveled his route. He noticed the appearance of class distinctions: 32 33 My route used to take me down to Thirty-first Street, but I was always 34 careful down there. . . . [On the other hand] there was one block between 35 Rhodes and Cottage Grove where really well-to-do people lived. . . . Doc36 tors, lawyers ministers. . . . [In further contrast, on] Thirty-fourth Street 37 between Woodland and Groveland Park [along Ellis Avenue,] there were 17 38 no black folks over there. All those were white folks. 39 40Nearby, the thirteenth African American family to settle in old Chicago, 41the Atkinson family of Old Settlers days, lived on the 3300 block of South 42Vernon Avenue. The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
13
All was not totally lost during this economic crisis, as some bright spots appeared in the midst of the massive collapse of the economy. Pullman porter Walter J. Green and his wife, Malinda, a caterer, maintained their family’s standard of living, including the hiring of a part-time driver when Mr. Green was out of town. Future religious leader Bishop Arthur Brazier of the Apostolic faith recalled that his father had continuous employment throughout the Depression working as a maintenance mechanic at a laundry. His mother, in the meantime, took in laundry to wash or visited homes where she completed her tasks. This allowed the family to maintain a large, twelve-room, three-bathroom apartment on Grand Boulevard (now South Parkway), which rented for $30 a month. Other family members lived with them because of the space.18 Likewise, prominent businessman Charles A. Davis Sr. recollected how his extended family of nearly a dozen persons coped relatively well with three male adults working, albeit it irregularly, at the stockyards. Never guaranteed employment, they nonetheless made daily trips to their former job site in hopes of being selected to work a full day.19 Although out of the realms of the professions and skilled, unionized workers, African-Americans who worked as Pullman porters, postal employees, and packinghouse workers experienced a sense of job security that eluded others. Future Chicago Postmaster Henry W. McGee recalled how employment for the U.S. Post Office meant stability during the worst days of the Depression.20 Postal employees faced layoffs as mail delivery dipped by mid-1931, the volume of business-related mail decreasing.21 Overall, still, it was one of the better occupational groupings in which to belong. For example, because Atkinson family granddaughter Grace Mason’s father was a postal worker, she also could recall youthful days of “genteel poverty with little money, but many other intangible rewards,” including a great deal of family and community solidarity.22 For youthful, transplanted Mississippian Richard Wright, his postal employment provided frequent bouts of earning enough to feed and shelter his mother, brother, and himself. He worked first as a regular clerk at an hourly rate of 70 cents an hour, with the need to reach the minimum weight of 125 pounds by a specified examination time as his major worry. He and his family ate heartily, and he even had time to practice his writing skills. When his physical exam date arrived, he expected the worst and it occurred—he had failed the examination by virtue of being underweight. Another season passed as he successfully pursued the weight gain needed to secure permanent employment. Yet as the depression grew more severe, his hours were reduced and he finally was released from federal service.23 Future award-winning poetess Gwendolyn Brooks’s 14
the depression comes to the south side
1 2family weathered the Depression with Mr. Brooks working at his full3time, daytime job24as a porter along with nighttime work as a painter and 4various odd jobs. The father and uncle of Chicago historian Dempsey 5J. Travis both held on to their jobs in the stockyard; after agreeing to a 6reduction in the hours25they worked “from six ten-hour days a week to 7three eight-hour days.” 8 Across the class divide, the Chicago branch of the NAACP’s annual 9cabaret, held to meet expenses, experienced successful results during 10the first two years of the decade. Initiated during the early years of the 11Depression, this fundraising activity depended on the untiring efforts 12of branch president Dr. Herbert Turner and his wife. The latter used her 13personal circle of friends to gain support for her efforts. The Turners 14were socially prominent, and Mrs. Turner, who was much younger than 15her husband, appealed to those residents of the Black Belt who were 16well-off and active in the “smart set.” This group was not touched by the 17depression to the extent that the masses of blacks were and the event 18brought in $500 in 1930 and again in 1931. But by 1932, even the well-off 19had begun to feel the pinch of the crisis. The cabaret that year received 20only two-thirds of the support it usually got, prompting the branch’s Archie L. Weaver, to lament that “the depression has hit us 21secretary, 26 all. ” 22 23 Lastly, desperation born of this situation convinced some African 24Americans that it was better to make their skin complexion work for 25them surreptitiously than exhibit race pride in being who they were. 26Consequently, some blacks who had heretofore been unable to get work 27resorted to passing for white. A survey of public opinion conducted by 28the Chicago Defender questioned the public about passing to get a27job 29and found sympathy for those forced to compromise their integrity. 30 31Modification of the Class Structure 32 The appearance of a discernible social structure based on wealth accu33 mulation, or the lack of it, had origins in previous decades but its actual 34 birth only after the end of the First World War.28 Class differentiation 35 occurred in black communities, but in a unique manner, because the 36 untoward circumstances of black residency in Chicago were totally 37 unlike the conditions under which whites of diverse ethnic backgrounds 38 sought and obtained housing. White neighborhoods were often segre39 gated by socioeconomic class, while black enclaves throughout the city 40 were more often than not concentrated with different segments of black 41 society all living together, many times due only to white hostility. These 42 The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
15
populations were quite heterogeneous in terms of class interests and standing; black professionals shared the same space with working-class people of color because of both custom and political fiat (manifested in the restrictive covenant). Horace R. Cayton, while a newcomer to Chicago in 1931, was made aware of these circumstances as soon as he arrived in the city. He recalled that it was not unusual “to see in any section of the Black Belt unkempt Negroes rubbing shoulders with the wellto-do ‘black bourgeois[ie].’”29 This recently modified class structure was now suffering a depressioninduced transformation that affected professionals adversely. According to Drake and Cayton, “the Depression, too, made it possible for persons on fixed salaries to challenge the pre-eminent social status of doctor and lawyers who depended on a now impoverished clientele—a fact that prompted widespread discussion.”30 As for the wealthy who were not ruined financially, they still felt the shift in their prestige when they were denied loans and credit or when they had to seek out payment from indigent clients who may or may not have had government backing to pay their bills.31 Society writer Gerri Hodges Major’s aunt lost her money after investing in stocks on the advice of the venerable “dean of Colored attorneys,” Edward H. Morris, who was financially devastated as well.32 Professionals’ rising indebtedness and reduced income likewise prompted major adjustments to lifestyles as the quality of their lives diminished. Banker P. W. Chavers’s daughter, Madrue, recalled losses in status, one case in particular that involved a dentist who lost ownership of his home. This professional man was forced to take a back room of what was now his former home, and with a former neighbor as his landlord, an individual he had never seen fit to socialize with previously. While others went “broke,” the postal workers, Pullman porters, and certain categories of municipal workers who had more reliable sources of sometimes enjoyed new benefits.33 Postal workers now could compete in the areas of recreation and in meeting the elastic class standards of the day. Pullman work was steady and residual food amounts from the trains somehow found their way onto many a family’s dinner table. With legitimate avenues of employment closed, activities in the underground economy increased in social acceptance. Even with limited resources, the depression actually increased the number of persons who worked in the policy racket.34 In comparison to the early part of the century, when for example Reverend Reverdy Ransom acted as a major voice of moral authority within the Black Metropolis and was targeted for assassination when he challenged the “policy swindle,” the power and influence of the 16
the depression comes to the south side
1 2church had significantly declined. The lure of the overwhelming chance 3of “hitting a winning number” through playing policy became too popu4lar for many of the residents of the Black Metropolis to resist. Policy women and 5served a social function as well as a financial one for bored 35 frustrated, unemployed men during the Depression. Policy was also 6 mentioned to have stopped starvation in some instances; one citizen 7 said of the policy players, “They fed a lot of families because it was the 8 36 9Depression.” “There was a great depression on and people were hungry. payoff from wagering a] dime or a 10And if they could make a [winning 37 nickel off this thing, they made it. ” 11 12 Policy also aided those politicians and policemen who were willing 13to turn a blind eye to this growing money scheme. Horace R. Cayton 14was introduced to this segment of middling black society when he inter15viewed their ranks as part of Harold F. Gosnell’s research team for the 16political tome Negro Politicians. “I knew policemen . . . I sat in the kitch17ens of honest and efficient Negro officers and in the luxurious apart18ments of corrupt Negro cops who were stashing away fortunes from ‘polpermitted and even encouraged by the 19icy’ and the other forms of graft 38 Kelly-Nash political machine. ” 20 21 Another set of institutions collapsed in and near the year 1930 22because of numerous deaths in black leadership circles. The direction 23of the community’s future was thus yielded to new leadership figures. 24In government and politics, Edward H. Wright and Daniel Jackson sur25rendered the baton of leadership to Oscar DePriest; in religion, Bishop 26Archibald J. Carey of the venerable Quinn Chapel African Methodist 27Episcopal (A.M.E.) Church and the iconoclastic Reverend William D. 28Cook who founded the Metropolitan Community Church passed their 29miters and scepters to Reverend Junius C. Austin of the Pilgrim Baptist 30Church; in medicine, Doctors Daniel Hale Williams, Charles E. Bent31ley, and George Cleveland Hall turned their instruments of healing over 32to Doctors U. G. Dailey, Carl G. Roberts, and Herbert Turner; within 33the civic ranks, Irene Goins, Ida B. Wells-Barnett, and Fannie Barrier 34Williams left the field of genteel combat for racial dignity, with social 35worker Irene McCoy Gaines and educator Maudelle Bousfield taking 36their places. 37 Importantly, in business, the titans of the Black Metropolis, Jesse 38Binga, Robert S. Abbott, and Anthony Overton, along with hundreds 39of small business people, had their livelihoods and dreams curtailed or 40eliminated altogether. This left a void that lasted until after the end of the 41Second World War. 42 The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
17
Weakening and Collapse of the Black Metropolis’s Financial Structure
Meantime, as the advent of massive economic deprivation affected all Chicagoans, two figures in particular—bankers Jesse Binga and Anthony Overton, who owned the Binga State Bank and the Douglass National Bank, respectively—held the African American public’s attention and provided a barometer as to how the economy would fare under the severity of the troubles at hand. Bankers, along with workers who still held on to their labor status and wage earning, symbolized the keys to assessing the economy’s health, since secure bank deposits and continuous paychecks indicated a semblance of financial stability. As the premier economic institutions of any community, the banks acted not only as repositories of thousands upon thousands of dollars in black savings but as lifelines to the ownership of homes and businesses. The pillars of the Black Metropolis, the Binga State Bank and the Douglass National Bank, along with the leading white banks of the South Side, faltered during the pre–New Deal period. Despite the signs of impending trouble to the economy, for all appearances Jesse Binga was outwardly ebullient on the cusp of the new year, 1930. In fact, he planned to open a new and larger nationally chartered bank near 47th Street and South Parkway as the year opened, and he advertised as such in the Chicago Defender.39 If he was insincere it did not seem apparent as he responded to a young relative, his first cousin’s son in Richmond, Virginia, in a personal and inspiring letter in which he virtually beamed confidence and enthusiasm about the new venture.40 Yet, beneath the surface, trouble was apparent because shortly after writing so optimistically to his Virginia cousin, Binga’s fortunes changed. He was forced to appeal to his partner in the Black Metropolis’s major chamber of commerce, Anthony Overton of the Associated Business Clubs for a bailout. Overton was willing to come to his rescue, but with a businessman’s offer that Binga found belittling and felt obligated by pride to refuse. For his part, white millionaire Samuel Insull offered $200,000 to Binga to allow him to meet his cash commitments, but State of Illinois officials led by Oscar Nelson, the state’s Auditor General, required a payment of $400,000 in additional cash dollars. This sum should have been available through the city’s institutional network for banking protection, the Chicago Clearing House Association, to which the Binga State Bank belonged. Despite its membership in the association, however, the bank was betrayed by the Clearing House’s leadership based on petty personal and racial considerations.41 The Binga State Bank held solid resources, 18
the depression comes to the south side
1 2but since they were frozen in real42 estate they were unavailable as liq3uid assets on an immediate basis. By the time that Binga was able to 4raise the monies needed to meet his obligations, the state intervened to 5shut him down, and embezzlement charges followed. Years later, in 1938, he wanted to put up $482,000 of his own money to reopen 6Binga claimed 43 the bank. 7 8 When Binga approached the Clearing House president and president 9of the First National Bank, a white Kentuckian named Melvin Traylor, he 10was sent to Edward Brown, the son of Chicago NAACP stalwart Judge 11Edward Osgood Brown. The young Brown antagonistically assessed 12Binga to be anything but a bona fide banker and decided that no bank 13money would be forthcoming. Traylor, a southerner with true conser14vative roots, both financially and racially, supposedly referred to Bin15ga’s business as a “’little nigger bank’ that didn’t mean anything” in the 16broader scope of the city’s expanding banking operations. Traylor was 17challenged immediately by another banking official for his insensitivity, 18who retorted, “if he [Traylor] could have seen the thousands of colored banks on the Saturday following 19people assembled around those closed 44 the closing of the Binga bank . . . ” 20 21 In June, 1930, the Auditor General of the State of Illinois, Oscar Nel22son, closed the bank and began an immediate review of the books. 23Crowds swelled around the doors of the bank as soon as news of the 24closing became public knowledge, only to be told that their savings were 25unavailable. The Chicago NAACP had lost the funds that represented a 26nest egg it sorely needed to meet the expenses of both its local operations 27and its annual allotment to its national office in New York. The Chicago 28Urban League suffered as well. On an individual level, the daughter of 29erstwhile banker P. W. Chavers, little Helen Madrue Chavers, lost her wasn’t long thereafter that her father lost his 30savings in the bank and it 45 real estate holdings as well. With the bank’s closing, Black Chicago his31 torian Dempsey J. Travis’s Uncle Otis “became destitute . . . [and] died in 32 broken-hearted, without having recovered one penny of 331933, broke and 46 his savings. ” 34 35 Exhibiting the same spirit that had propelled the Black Metropolis 36ideal into actuality during the 1920s, the community began making plans 37to save the bank. Depositors organized to reclaim as much of their lost 38money as possible by becoming members of the Bank Victims Protective 39League, whose ranks included Chicago Whip editor Joseph47 D. Bibb and 40others. Attorney Oscar C. Brown Sr. served as their lawyer. At the same 41time in November, 1930, Illinois Auditor General Oscar Nelson placed 42the bank under the control of the community legal icon Attorney Edward The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
19
H. Morris, who now acted as receiver. Morris’s banking acumen failed to match his renowned legal skills, however. Within twenty months, a group of depositors and creditors was demanding that the courts remove Morris in order to protect mortgage holders who were going to lose their equity, amounting to more than $500,000, if foreclosures could not be forestalled.48 Overall, the number of banks that closed their doors nationally would reach 4,000 by the time the new president inaugurated a bank holiday a light year away in 1933 and bailed out the American banking system. As to the definitive causes of the Binga bank’s failure, W. E. B. Du Bois saw fit to blame racism because of the inaction of the Chicago Clearing House Association.49 That obviously did play a major role. Also contributing greatly was Binga’s movement of money from the Binga State Bank into the proposed new South Park National Bank, along with his personal style of acting impetuously without regard to consequences. This feature of his personality angered his board of directors to the point of mass resignation, thus removing persons with a more rational approach to the bank’s operations. The character of the bank’s loans revealed the Achilles’ heel of black banking. Binga loaned to a community desperately in need of credit for homes and businesses but extremely vulnerable whenever times got tough, exactly the type of borrowers that white banks routinely turned away. The loss of the bank was the price prospective black customers paid directly for living in a racist society in which the solution-providing combination of racial pride and financial operations was proving less attractive. Meanwhile, the Douglass National Bank was experiencing the same difficulties as the Binga State Bank, as major institutional linchpins of the community such as the Olivet Baptist Church reduced staffing levels, curtailed vital community services, and refinanced its mortgage arrangement with the bank. It appears that Overton, presumably because of his close ties to Olivet, personally authorized the issuance of a $20,000 mortgage at 6 percent per annum over ten years to the cash-strapped church in 1931.50 This was during the same time span that Claude A. Barnett saw fit to write to the Tuskegee Institute’s head, Robert R. Moton, that the banking situation was dire in Chicago but that the Douglass Bank was holding up under the pressure of “bank runs.”51 Nevertheless, the bank’s resources were being depleted by depositors who were either unemployed or forced by conditions to live off their savings. At this point Overton made the odd decision to expend $175,000 in capital, presumably from the bank and his other enterprises, in order to complete construction on a partially erected Masonic Temple at 56th and State Streets. 20
the depression comes to the south side
1 2Once completed, Overton envisioned a 33-unit apartment building with 52 37,000 square feet of floor space which he named Gables Apartments. 4 Barnett’s assessment and Overton’s optimism proved premature. The 5Douglass National Bank had depended on real estate loans, along with churches and fraternal orders in order to 6heavy investments in Baptist 53 sustain its profitability. In 1932, Douglass had $158,864 in loans out7 standing, with $131,000 lent to individuals. The bank suffered a drain in 8 in 1931–1932, reducing its resources 9deposits over a nine-month period 54 from $2 million to $408,000. There were a few loans to industries or 10 commercial operations, but most were to churches such as Olivet,55 and 11 12fraternal organizations such as the Knights of Pythias. Collateral secur13ing loans represented stocks and bonds of concerns closely associated 14with the bank or officials of the bank. 15 The economic distress facing the average working- and middle-class 16family also affected the churches adversely. In the Chavers family account 17of the crisis, the fictional Mr. Hull (obviously Attorney Richard Hill, the 18son-in-law of Anthony Overton) threatened the church members at with closing the church based on their outstand19Olivet Baptist Church 56 ing debt of $8,000. Down the street from the Overton home, located 20 at 5438 South Michigan Avenue, the Greater Bethesda Baptist Church 21 found itself in trouble with the bank because so many of its members 22 were financially strapped, which prevented the church from meeting its 23 57 financial obligations. The new president, Attorney Richard Hill, tan24 gled with the Greater Bethesda Church congregation over support for 25 58 the Douglass Bank. The churches of the Black Metropolis could not 26 be blamed for their predicament, for religious bodies throughout the 27 entire city faced similar difficulties. On the West Side, Friendship Baptist 28 59 29Church faced similar hardships because of the depression. 30 Unlike the Binga State Bank, which was denied financial assistance 31from the Chicago Clearing House Association despite the bank’s qualifi32cation as an association member, the Douglass National Bank benefitted 33from structural support from within the federal system. Douglass received 34assistance in the amount of $200,000 from the Reconstruction Finance 35Corporation, a part of Republican President Herbert Hoover’s economic 36recovery program. Despite this help, the bank couldn’t be saved, and its 37board of directors, minus60Overton, closed the institution on May 23, 1932 38while it was still solvent. Receivership followed. During the rest of the 39decade assets were protected, and upon completing a series61 of liquida40tions, depositors received almost all of their original savings. 41 With the demise of the two banks, more than banking was lost. 42An entire social network was affected. Chicago Defender owner and The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
21
publisher Robert S. Abbott was touched deeply, according to his biographer, Roi Ottley. Abbott suffered a loss of spirit as his two banking friends, Binga and Overton, went under in the 1930s.62 Abbott felt the pressure of the depression likewise as circulation plummeted and layoffs became a necessity. He was forced to cease publication of his highly admired Abbott’s Monthly by 1933 because of lagging sales. Left unpaid was Richard Wright, who had written for the magazine in 1931.63 Abbott had another reason to feel sadness. The fellowship of peers he had known so well was disappearing thanks to a mass emigration of the celestial variety: a “who’s who” of the leadership of various circles of influence and power died within the span of thirty months. At the end of the last decade, Mrs. Irene Goins died on March 12, 1929. Her work in labor during the war in organizing the Women’s Labor Union in the stockyards, in politics with the Douglass League of Women Voters, and in women’s affairs with the Federated Women’s Clubs and the Chicago and Northern District Federation of Women’s Clubs made her a leader of legendary stature. Along with her, Dr. George Cleveland Hall died on June 17, 1930 after a lifetime spent devoted to every aspect of civic involvement and medical administration. During the summer months of 1930, Reverend William D. Cook of the Metropolitan Community Church passed away on July 5, 1930, to be followed by the “Iron Master” of South Side Republican politics, Edward H. Wright, on August 6, 1930. As the seasons changed in 1931, A.M.E. Bishop Archibald J. Carey Sr. died on March 23, 1931 and was followed a day later by Mrs. Ida B. Wells-Barnett. In her lifetime, the diminutive Wells-Barnett had established herself as an irreplaceable icon in civic and community work as well as in civil rights activism, women’s rights, and politics. The noted surgeon and hospital-builder, Dr. Daniel Hale Williams, completed this pantheon of passing notables when he died on August 4, 1931. A community rent by economic depression now faced a dearth of its extraordinary civic, business, religious, and social leaders. Then, Abbott’s chief competitor, the Chicago Whip, fell victim to the depression and stopped getting advertising from white groups. By 1932 it ceased its operations altogether, leaving future Chicago NAACP president A. C. MacNeal without a job.64 MacNeal’s zeal for causes and writing were to be fulfilled in the latter organization. The message to the believers in the Black Metropolis seemed clear enough. Icons had been found to be too human after all, and black banking in particular would not recover for over another generation. With the banks and newspapers in distress, the weakening economy was sure to affect insurance and real estate within the financial industry. Insurance was added to banking as losing propositions, with the 22
the depression comes to the south side
1 2Victory Life Insurance Company being snatched from Overton’s hands 3by 1931 as the business faltered and it was placed in receivership. Given 4that the company had heavy investments in the Black Metropolis’s real 5estate market and that Overton had taken funds from it to prop up the 6Douglass National Bank, Victory Life’s vulnerability in the midst of this 7economic climate seemed self-evident. With the inability of mortgage 8holders to keep up their financial commitments and policy holders to 9pay their premiums, the company’s stability was threatened. Once free business decisions, however, the company 10of Overton’s policies and poor 65 did weather the Depression. 11 12 The expanding Liberty Life Insurance Company, moreover, faced 13some tough days along with its South Side competitors. With its heavy 14investments in neighborhood real estate and with rising non-payment 15of premiums, its cash reserves dwindled. It did have the advantage of 16both Attorney Earl B. Dickerson’s business genius and his political clout 17among Democrats in Chicago and in the state capital at Springfield. As 18an Assistant Attorney General of Illinois, Dickerson developed intimate 19knowledge of the liquidation process and what Liberty Life needed to 20pass the state requirements to remain in operation. As company counsel, 21this graduate of the University of Chicago’s school of law rendered advice 22on the disposition of the company’s assets that proved invaluable. His 23plan for the company proposed maximizing the value of assets in such 24a manner as to establish corporate stability. His creation66of the “[insur25ance] policy lien” was ingenious, legal, and lifesaving. Nonetheless, 26Liberty Life suffered from decline, as did the other surviving companies, 27until an upturn later in the decade. 28 A third company, the Metropolitan Assurance Company, experienced 29internal administrative problems relating to the role of Charles Jackson 30(brother of the late Republican politician Dan Jackson), who would 31play a major role in the future ownership of the company. Charles had 32rumored and somewhat substantiated links to the South Side’s massive 33underworld gambling empire that had been operated by African Ameri34cans since the turn of the century. Funding from this underground econ35omy helped finance many legitimate businesses. Overall, by adopting a 36liberal policy on the payment of premiums that included accepting gov37ernment-issued butter and scrip in place of U.S. currency, the company 38was able to maintain its operations at a sustainable level. In terms of 39hiring and retention of employees, it did better than many companies. 40Male agents who could produce new policy holders and collect on cur41rent accounts survived as the company treaded 67water. By mid-decade, an 42increase in accounts and growth was apparent. The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
23
Organized, Remedial Responses on Behalf of Humanity
Three organizations in particular captured the gaze of the people of the Black Metropolis as they looked for leadership to provide solutions to their needs. Subsequent demands by the mass of citizens for amelioration of their problems caused the Chicago Urban League to change its mission from employment and the provision of services for neighborhood maintenance to become a relief and social service agency. The staff ’s focus at the executive leadership level remained consistent, if technically in limited deviation from the organization’s stated mission, especially by the middle of the decade. At the same time, the Communist Party was transformed by orders from Moscow into an organization that pursued a dual agenda in partial contradiction to Marxist-Leninist doctrine. It relinquished a commitment to a doctrine three-quarters of a century old that emphasized a material interpretation of all human behavior along with the forces affecting it, and now was willing to compromise by defining the racial issue as a major component of its larger goal. The Party now acknowledged the desire of blacks for recognition of the imperatives of their separate culture as manifested in the Deep South region’s expansive Black Belt and Chicago’s major African American enclave, the Black Metropolis. This weakening of the Communist mission faced internal resistance, not only from doctrinally conservative members, but also from some white party members who could not rise above their ethnic loyalties and pressured the party to legitimize their claims to ethnic exceptionalism.68 The Chicago branch of the NAACP was the second of the dynamic traditional organizations struggling on the black South Side to both survive and serve its constituents well during this period of crisis. It and the Chicago Urban League found themselves in direct conflict with the Communist Party. In the case of the Chicago NAACP and the Communist Party, each sought to achieve vanguard status in the two major areas of alleviation of distress for the masses and the protest arena, meeting head-to-head over all relevant issues affecting quality of life, including employment, housing, recreation, and systemic change. In a classic battle between non-traditional approaches to change, one revolutionary and the other militantly reformist, the beneficiaries fortunately were members of the working class. In contrast to these programs for change, the Chicago Urban League pursued its course of working within the system, an effort that worked to the tangible advantage of those most in need. While the structure, functions, mission, and operations of the Chicago Urban League were 24
the depression comes to the south side
1 2significantly altered by the advent of the Great Depression in 1930 and 3in subsequent years, most significantly the League underwent organiza4tional changes that involved the direction and contents of its program as 5well as the structure of the relations among its board and staff. The pro6gram of the Chicago Urban League before 1930 had placed it in a posi7tion where it did not initially develop a dependency on actions within 8the politica1 sphere to be effective in its own. With a focus on secur9ing employment opportunities, it relied heavily instead on a cooperative 10relationship with the industrial, commercial, and service sectors within 11the economic sphere. As the depression worsened in 1930 and afterward, 12actions by Mayors William Thompson and Anton Cermak to increase 13public sector jobs and Governor Louis L. Emmerson’s efforts to provide 14relief to the unemployed did gain in importance as part of the League’s 15program. The League at this point became an active partner with gov16ernment to help solve the problems of the depression, firstly by dispens17ing relief, and secondly by providing housing, missions that took the 18place of its regular function of making job referrals. 19 During the course of the year 1930, program direction was altered as 20all three of the League’s operating departments were affected adversely 21by economic conditions. The Industrial Relations Department became 22as much a dispenser of relief as it was a job placement agency; the Social 23and Civic Improvement Department was abolished; and the Research 24Department remained viable only because of a cooperative arrangement but it “had only an indirect relation[ship] 25with the University of Chicago, 69 to the League’s program. ” 26 27 In its role as dispenser of relief in 1930, the League used its office as 28a clearinghouse for the distribution of clothing and such foodstuffs as 29bread, milk, and other staple items that were supplied from private and 30public sources. In this endeavor it was replicating the experiences it had of the race riots of 1919 and in the midst of the recession 31in the aftermath 70 of 1921–1922. All staff activities, limited as they were with only execu32 tive secretary A. L. Foster employed on a full-time basis, were geared 33 toward this effort. Staff and board members led by Dr. Arthur G. Falls 34 also set up a free medical clinic on 31st Street and worked long hours that 35 stretched from 6:30 am to 9:00 pm and included work on Sundays. Dur36 37ing this period volunteers from the community also expended a great 38deal of time on behalf of the downtrodden. 39 In the succeeding year, the League was still engaged primarily in relief 40work. A feeding station for the destitute was opened in Unity Hall at 3140 41South Wabash Avenue, a block from the League’s headquarters at Repub42lican Congressman Oscar DePriest’s former ward organization offices. The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
25
This facility was able to feed at least 2,000 hungry black and white persons each day. The League staff also set up two homes for destitute single men and women, the Wabash Lodge and the Sunshine Haven, respectively. These shelters served thousands of the South Side’s shelterless and unemployed from their inception in late 1930 until their initial closings in late spring 1931. When the Wabash Lodge for Homeless Men closed on May 1, 1931, it had given “2,697 different men 39,308 nights service and 104,087 meals. [The] Sunshine Haven for Homeless Women closed June 1st after serving 17,778 meals to adults and 3,789 to children. 268 different women were given care and relief.”71 Once the two shelters were closed by the city government and the League’s responsibility for administering them had ended, the League still “continued to serve those persons it [had] always done in normal times by sending them to the cheaper lodging homes and restaurant[s].”72 Yet, the needs of the people that the League served until the end of that spring had not been met completely at the time relief activities ceased. Many were to be found sleeping in the parkways, on the lakefront, and inside the parks during both fair and foul weather. Adding to their woes was the constant harassment they faced from the police due to their indigence. On top of this, the level of evictions began to swell during the summer months of 1931 among childless adults, and the potential for turmoil built. One result of these deteriorating conditions was the eviction riots of summer 1931, which culminated in three fatalities on August 3, 1931. By 1931, the Department of Industrial Relations still operated its job placement office, the Free Employment Bureau, but with a new, inexperienced, and temporary staff person handling all of the registrations and placements. In both 1931 and 1932, Alonzo Thayer, who headed the department before it was placed in virtual suspension, chose to remain with the newly formed Governor’s Commission on Unemployment and Relief, which offered him secure employment. As the ranks of the unemployed grew to unmanageable levels, only semi-skilled and skilled workers were processed, with the unskilled being referred to the state-run Illinois Free Employment Bureau. What was accomplished in the way of job referrals was meager both in terms of the League’s limited involvement and the number of persons actually placed. The magnitude of the problem was, of course, overwhelming. Approximately 40 percent of all workers in the city were unemployed during the early years of the Depression, and for blacks the figure was placed at 45 percent.73 Countering this problem as best it could, the League interviewed 8,209 men and women by October 1930, placing 1,666.74 The 26
the depression comes to the south side
1 2League took 5,878 applications between October 1930 and September 31931 but only found employment for 850. Of that total, 263 were men 4and a disproportionately higher number, 587, were women. Between 1932 the organization registered 5,938 per5October, 1931 and September, 75 sons but placed only 468. The unemployment situation continued to 6 worsen and was exacerbated by the displacement of blacks from jobs in 7 the service area that they had traditionally found secure. The League was 8 9especially active among hotel owners and managers, convincing many of 10them to retain76 their black employees while resisting racist pressures to 11do otherwise. 12 In another response to the crisis, the Chicago Urban League spon13sored a mass meeting in September 1930 at the Wendell Phillips High 14School to discuss the growing unemployment. This meeting featured 15Municipal Judge Albert George and Congressman Oscar DePriest, with 16the latter offering his usual view to a crowd of 2,000 that immigrant Indian, in his mind) had 17labor (both white European and black West 77 significantly contributed to the nation’s ills. While the size of the assem18 blage demonstrated the community’s interest, the amount collected in 19 behalf of the destitute, $55, showed with equal clarity that those present 20 21were in need themselves. Also important to note, the mass meeting, a 22tactic of protest from the past, was still being used to tackle a problem of 23the modern, industrialized twentieth century. However, this was a prob24lem that was best solved at the polls, as finally became possible in the 25national elections of 1932. 26 In addition to employment referrals and indignation meetings, the 27League conducted job training sessions early in 1930 and attempted to 28organize black businessmen into commercial organizations. A sizeable 29number of people were also trained as office workers and salespersons, 30and by May, 1930 twenty salesmen and saleswomen were graduated 31after completion of their training in the sanctuary of the Pilgrim Baptist 32Church. However, there is no record of their being placed in jobs. 33 Just as the League’s program was adversely affected by the depression, 34so was the method of financing its operations. In this pre–New Deal 35period, there was no public funding available for private social service 36endeavors. Consequently, the Chicago Urban League raised funds for 37its operations from three traditional sources. There was an annual drive 38for memberships, an annual benefit held in October, and contributory 39amounts from corporate and philanthropic interests and the member40ship, all essential in keeping the organization’s coffers filled. 41 One important philanthropic contribution that was missing through42out the decade was that of the Rosenwald Foundation. In 1930, noted The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
27
ethical humanist Horace J. Bridges (who was one of the League’s past presidents, and by 1931 the sole surviving member of the original founders) wrote to Julius Rosenwald explaining the consequences wrought by the withholding of his financial support. Bridges called this “the greatest blow that the organization has sustained since it began.” Bridges wished to dissuade Rosenwald from believing the allegation of his son-in-law, Alfred Stern, that the League was inefficient in its operations and to persuade him to review his decision in light of the League’s efforts to aid black Chicagoans. In Bridge’s view, the situation had reached a pivotal point: We are in hard times. Our office staff have been unpaid since August 15th, and were paid then (I believe) with money borrowed from the bank on the credit of two of our directors. But even more than these difficulties is the discouragement occasioned by the blow in the face from our oldest, most generous, and most respected and revered friend.78
Despite Bridge’s impassioned plea, Rosenwald remained adamantly opposed to supporting the League. As a result of the depression and the organization’s economic problems, the League’s Summary for 1930 noted that “we are closing the year with an unusually large deficit and we shall curtail all of our expenditures.”79 This deficit even forced the League to make an appeal for emergency funds to run its shelters for the unemployed. Departing from its traditional social service functions, the League was now transformed into a relief-dispensing agency. All money now raised was used solely for relief. To reassure donors of the proper use of the funds, executive secretary A. L. Foster described the situation to the black community: . . . we want it distinctly understood that contributions to this special fund will not be used for any purpose other than relief. It will not be applied to our regular budget for the payment of salaries or for any other purpose. The Urban League will administer the fund in such a manner that every cent contributed for emergency relief will be used for emergency relief.80
As the Depression entered its second year in 1931, the League assisted the United Charities, a citywide agency that regularly provided private aid to the destitute. The United Charities’ effort was so important that the League postponed its own annual membership drive until late in the year so as not to cause interference. When the annual drive began 28
the depression comes to the south side
1 2in earnest in September, Earl B. Dickerson took charge of the overall 3drive with Alderman Robert Jackson and State Representative William 4E. King assisting him. The heaviest contributions from the black com5munity came from two bastions of consumerism, the Murray Company, 6which manufactured hair pomade, and Poro College, a school of cos7metology and hair preparation. The Murray group contributed at a level 8that was in excess of what normally could be expected. Yet, no matter 9how impressive black support was, a single contribution from a white 10corporation or foundation, such as the Wieboldt Fund, could produce 11as much as $1,000, a testimony to the financial importance of white sup12port. Significantly, the Wieboldt family always contributed to the Chithe 13cago Urban League, “but this year [it] made a special gift because of 81 business depression which [had] made it difficult to secure funds. ” 14 15 By 1932, the city was plunged even deeper into the morass of the 16Depression with the hopes of the black community falling at an accel17erated rate. The League continued to curtail its services and reported the task of 18that its contributions “had fallen off fifty to sixty percent and 82 securing adequate funds had grown much more difficult. ” Staff mem19 bers even contributed 10 percent of their salaries in order to offset the 20 83 211931–1932 fiscal year deficit. The membership drive of 1932 was set to 22run for nine days in the hope of raising a goal of $5,000. A special appeal 23to South Side businessmen was made, asking them to set aside a percent24age of a day’s receipts to help the drive. Stretching its efforts beyond its 25proposed schedule, the League conducted a moderately successful cam26paign, although it failed to reach its goal. Meanwhile, the NAACP suf27fered in its fundraising activities as the League extended its efforts into 28the Association’s calendar, adding to that organization’s woes. Total con29tributions raised from all sources reached the 84$11,000 mark, which still 30left the organization short on operating funds. 31 The need for structural change was illustrated when the board’s lead32ership was expanded to include more dynamic voices on the executive 33committee. Both the board of directors and the operating staff were 34affected by the influence of economic factors. One newcomer was Attor35ney Earl B. Dickerson, perhaps the decade’s leading gadfly in the area of 36non-violent protest aimed at improving race and economic relations. His 37presence added to the new orientation toward activism that the board 38took and to greater support for staff operations than might have appeared 39to be acceptable in earlier days. In 1931 he took over the vice presidential 40chair reserved for black members on the board and later became act41ing president in the absence of Elbridge Bancroft Pierce. In contrast to 42Dickerson’s ascension, which was viewed with satisfaction, Alfred Stern’s The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
29
resignation from the League’s leadership ranks in 1930 was viewed with relief. Because of his initial opposition to the League’s new program that had begun in 1929, some board members had started to accuse him of outright obstructionism to the organization’s mission.85 The inclusion of a sizeable number of inactive and timid members on the board, especially among the ranks of the white women, but including also some of the white men, led the more committed and active members to push for reorganization in 1931. Board meetings, for example, were sometimes so poorly attended that many times a quorum was not present.86 With reorganization, only the more active members, such as Dickerson, Dr. Falls, and Pierce were left on an invigorated executive board.87 Those persons who lacked a solid commitment to the League were shifted to an advisory board. This effort was exemplified by the attempt to convince Salmon O. Levinson, the internationally known diplomat, that, while his contributions were essential to the League’s existence, he was not so indispensable that he shouldn’t be removed from a position on the board of directors to be placed in one on the more dormant advisory board. In a response that was unanticipated by the board, Levinson evaluated the offer of a reduced role, focused on personal considerations, and resigned from the organization altogether.88 During the early years of the Depression decade, the leadership of the League’s board of directors still represented in actuality the spirit of its commitment to an egalitarian American society. The League was completely integrated at its highest level, in its executive committee. Its thirty-two board officers were a mix of men and women, Jews and Gentiles, whites and blacks. The six key offices of the executive committee were divided equally between whites and blacks. The presidency, one vice presidency, and the treasurer’s positions were held by whites, whereas the other vice presidency, the secretary’s, and the assistant treasurer’s offices were held by blacks. The president was Elbridge Bancroft Pierce, an attorney and member of one of the city’s most prestigious families; the white vice president was Miss Amelia Sears, a member of the elite City Women’s Club of Chicago and later a Democratic Cook County commissioner; and the treasurer was Edgar N. Greenbaum, a Jewish businessman who rounded out the white troika. Their black counterparts were Vice President Earl B. Dickerson, an NAACP linchpin, a gadfly for racial justice, and the replacement for Dr. George Cleveland Hall upon the latter’s death in 1931; Judge Albert B. George, the secretary; and Dr. Midian O. Bousfield, the assistant treasurer, who was a member of the Rosenwald Foundation’s medical staff. All the executive committee members held upper and middle-class status, either because of background and 30
the depression comes to the south side
1 2wealth, or in the case of the blacks, because of distinct standards in the 3Black Belt which granted to nearly all professionals this particular eleva4tion in social standing. 5 In terms of their input into policy formulation and organizational 6direction, the two racial groups appeared to cooperate fully without 89 7one group dominating the deliberations at the expense of the other. 8As described by one contemporary, blacks and whites sought a common 9unity among their membership, directed toward the attainment of a 10common goal: the industrial, economic, and social adjustment of urban 11blacks amid amicable race relations. There was enough diversity, how12ever, for differences to arise that had to be negotiated at their meetings. 13The conservatism of some black board members made them not unlike 14any older white member when it came to issues relating to close interra15cial contact and a gradual approach to effecting societal change. Claude 16A. Barnett, Director of the Associated Negro Press Service, whose grad17ualist racial views were in the Booker T. Washington vein, was one such 18board member. This type of conservative position appeared to be related 19just as much to age, ideology, and personal experiences as to race. The 20whites who supported League activities as board members either con21tributed their money or their names, and sometimes both. In any event, 22their support was indispensable to the League’s survival. 23 The board of directors formulated the policy that A. L. Foster and 24the operating staff followed. The implementation of that policy along 25programmatic lines was carried out, surprisingly,90without any appre26ciable amount of friction between the two bodies. When the Depres27sion decade brought about the need for militant job action, as seen in 28the Whip’s campaign, Foster was ready to support it and did so whole29heartedly, although with as little fanfare as possible. He was joined in his 30efforts by a small number of board members who also worked behind the 31scenes so as to protect the League’s image in the eyes of both the more 91 32conservative board members and the League’s white contributors. Of 33the board members who could be counted on to support more militant 34and innovative approaches, Attorney Earl B. Dickerson and Dr. Arthur 35G. Falls were in the forefront. In addition to these young black profes36sionals, whites such as Amelia Sears and Horace J. Bridges were always 37willing to listen and sometimes to lend support. Dickerson had a con38flicted image; he was seen as a silk-stocking politician at the same time 39he was being called a radical by some during the late thirties. Whatever 40the label, he nonetheless worked somewhat successfully within the sys41tem, both through the courts and in civic groups to effect the changes he 42wished to see take place. With the skill of a global diplomat, Dickerson The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
31
worked well with both the more conservative members and the more activist-minded members of the executive board. The regular meeting place of the Chicago Urban League leadership was not its headquarters at 3032 South Wabash Avenue, which was located in the heart of its service area on the city’s South Side. The board members preferred a site more in line with their status as well as aspirations toward egalitarianism. Their choice was the City Club, which was located in the downtown section and which was the club of some of the city’s “finest” white citizens. Any meeting of the two races in this setting stood as a testimony to the League’s commitment to social equality. Unfortunately, while an assemblage at the City Club might have meant a narrowing of the problem of social distance between the members of each racial elite within the League’s hierarchy, it also brought about a widening of the physical distance between the organization’s policymakers and the beneficiaries of their efforts. This did not mean that meetings held on the South Side would have produced different decisions, but at least the people of that community would have perceived the League’s leadership in light of their proximity rather than their racially charged distance. In addition, this was the type of thinking and behavior that the Communist Party exploited in its attempt to recruit economically deprived and discontented blacks into its ranks. As a matter of fact, the well-to-do, educated executive hierarchy of both races and the well-trained black staff officers of the League who made and implemented organizational policy were complete opposites of both the membership they led and the clientele they served. The ranks of the membership were filled primarily with working-class people. And, of course, the clientele were the unemployed members of the city’s workforce. The employees of the Murray Superior Products Company were typical of the black composition of the membership. These black workers at this black-owned hair preparations firm annually pledged an amount of their earnings to the Chicago Urban League that was a disproportionately large in relation to their numbers and wage level. Their willingness to give of themselves was consistent with the organization’s avowed purpose of building a base of popular support and a cooperative relationship between the working classes, business and professional groups, and the League.92 Also supporting the organization were various social clubs composed of black women such as those active in the programming activities of the Women’s Committee.93 Membership amounts ranged from the $1–$5 participatory fee up to the $25 sustaining fee. However, during the midst of economic depression even payment of the lowest amount could be prohibitively expensive 32
the depression comes to the south side
1 2for many of the African Americans living on the North, West, and South 3Sides. 4 To expand the involvement of the membership in the work of the orga5nization, a series of mass meetings was planned for the fall of 1931 con6tinuing into 1932. These efforts weren’t as successful as expected, leading 7President Pierce to explain, “We feel that many people, especially those 8who hold membership in our organization, are unacquainted with our 9work. . . . By holding at least one meeting each month for our members we hope to 10and their friends, at which reports of our work will be made, 94 keep the public better informed of our accomlishments. ” However, the 11 League failed to get the mass support it sought because of a variety of 12 13factors. The most notable were the organization’s image and reputation 14for elitism; its interracial leadership at the board level, which raised the 15suspicions of blacks at the working-class level who had historical reasons 16to mistrust whites; the community’s perception that its finances were 17met by rich white philanthropists who were intent on maintaining their 18hold over black aspirations through paternalistic gestures; the impover19ishment of so many blacks; and the timidity of the League’s program in 20dealing with the problems of the depression, especially when compared 21to that of the Communists. 22 For that segment within the membership that sought intellectual 23stimulation and answers to provocative questions of the type raised by 24the more educationally sophisticated, a series of five monthly forums 25was offered in 1932. One such forum presented Melville J. Herskovits, 26the Northwestern University anthropologist, whose views on the reten27tion of African cultural traits by New World blacks surprised and upset 28some assimilationist-minded black Americans. This endeavor was 29sponsored by the League’s newest component, the Interracial Commit30tee. This body, which was the brainchild of board member Dr. Arthur 95 31G. Falls, was organized in 1932 to improve interracial understanding. 32Yet, in serving this clientele the League missed serving the large body of 33unemployed workers and unassimilated newcomers of the South Side. 34Just as the lowest membership fee was far beyond their means, so was 35intellectual discourse beyond their immediate interests. These people 36became an oft-forgotten group for the League during the pre-Roosevelt 37Depression years, sometimes because of their apathy, and often because 38their resorts to street-level activism to gain redress of their grievances, as 39during 1930–1932, was not in accord with the League’s philosophy. 40 The League’s relationship with the less than a dozen major black poli41ticians was one of cooperation and mutual respect, and also of separation 42as to functions and interests. Fundraising was helped along by politicians The impact of the depression on home life, institutions, and organizations
33
like Robert Jackson, who worked in 1931 as a financial campaign director. But no local politician could provide funds for the black citizenry that the League served like the large corporations, philanthropic foundations, and private social service groups such as the United Charities could. As late as 1932, even when other organizations such as the NAACP were affected by political activities, the League still managed to raise a contributory amount equal to amounts from other years. In terms of political influence on its internal governance, the League’s board was devoid of anyone involved in political life among the whites—except for Amelia Sears, who became a Democratic county commissioner in 1940. Among the blacks, the only politician was Earl B. Dickerson, and he never acted within the highest circles of power of the Democratic Party. The Chicago Urban League pursued a programmatic course that was as restrictive and limited as its financial patrons’ support and suggestions until the advent of the New Deal. As historian Arvarh E. Strickland wrote: It was not until after 1934, when its financial situation improved, that the Chicago Urban League was able to face [fully] the challenge to its leadership in the Negro community. Rather than attempting to integrate pressure [protest] tactics into its traditional methods, the Chicago League developed a sort of dualism. . . . Before its conservative white supporters, it placed the image of a social welfare organization using community organization, interracial co-operation, and education to better conditions. . . . Among the restless Negro masses, on the other hand, the League wanted to be known as an organization in the forefront of the fight for racial advancement [similar to the images created by the Chicago NAACP and the Communist Party].96
As the Chicago Urban League performed its humanitarian mission as well as it could, blacks looked to the governmental sector for even greater amelioration of their suffering, a topic to be examined next.
34
the depression comes to the south side
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19Fig. 1. Unemployed group. Courtesy of the Chicago Defender. 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 Fig. 2. Jesse Binga. Crisis (1922).
recto runningfoot
a
Fig. 3. Robert S. Abbott. Messenger (1925).
Fig. 4. Anthony Overton. Half-Century Magazine (1921).
Fig. 5. Oscar De Priest. Courtesy of the Chicago Defender.
b
depression comes to the south side
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15Fig. 6. Joseph Bibb (left) and A.C. MacNeal (right). Messenger. 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 recto runningfoot Fig. 7.
Chicago Whip program. Negro in Chicago.
c
Fig. 8. Reds parade for Scottsboro. Courtesy of the Chicago Defender.
d
depression comes to the south side
1 2Tw o 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 [I am not] asking for public funds to make mendicants of the American 17 people. [Applause]. And I represent more poor people than any other man 18 in American represents. I am against the establishment of the dole system 19 in America. [Applause]. —Congressman Oscar DePriest on the floor 20 of the U.S. Capitol, 1930 21 22 Duke: “How can a man get a job when there ain’t none?” 23 Doc: “Make your own job like I did!” 24 —Richard Wright, Lawd Today 25 26 27Conventional Politics in the Midst of an Economic Crisis 28 29The severity of the social and economic conditions ravaging the black 30community demanded a political response to the crisis that was imme31diate and remedial to the fullest degree possible. The Democratic Party 32in Chicago had figured out a response by 1931 that consisted of present33ing itself as politically able to ameliorate the crisis through jobs, as well 34as being an alternative to the floundering Republican Party. For its part, 35the Republican Party was failing on a daily basis to effectively provide 36leadership locally and nationally during this period of crisis. Subse37quently, between 1930 and early 1933, the majority of the electorate of 38Chicago began to reject Republicanism, and the city was well on the way 39toward becoming a Democratic enclave for the rest of the century. Yet, 40as pervasive and influential as the Depression was over the lives of Chi41cagoans, the people of the Black Metropolis did not react politically like 42the majority of Chicagoans did. Their political1 realignment away from the party of Lincoln proceeded at a snail’s pace.
The Ineffectiveness of Conventional Politics
the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
35
Blacks remained staunch Republicans during the pre–New Deal period and beyond because they tended to regard politics, their major vehicle for racial advancement, as being distinct from any means used to bring economic improvement into their lives. As a result, blacks had aligned themselves with a political organization with a conservative economic philosophy that could not and did not develop a program to meet their and the city’s needs for employment, housing, and economic relief. The explanation for this anomaly in political behavior can be found in two influential sets of factors that more often than not formed antithetical parts of black existence, one involving race and politics, and the other race and economics. To a great degree, the combined psychological and material encounters of blacks late in the previous decade had conditioned them experientially for the deprivations of this decade. The overwhelming prevalence of racial discrimination in the private sector forced a high percentage of them into the domestic and service sectors, where wages were low. Additionally, as a result of the fatalism they’d already developed, many blacks did not challenge the economic status quo. However, when other segments of the black population did begin to mount challenges, they engaged in activities outside the bounds of traditional politics. Their awareness of the limitations that existed when working within the current system served as a stimulus to energize their actions. These citizens turned to the streets in protest activism at a scope that involved hundreds, and sometimes thousands of supporters and onlookers willing to physically demonstrate their committed desire for a change in conditions. The Chicago Urban League, the Chicago NAACP, and other community groups, such as the Colored Citizens World’s Fair Council (during 1932 through 1934) supported their activities from the civic realm and legitimized their goals.2 The Chicago chapter of the Communist Party, of course, functioned outside the civic realm in an antiestablishmentarian posture and proceeded as though it had a solution to end the crisis. Beyond enthusiastic and demanding rhetoric, along with street theatrics, its prescribed solution to the depression was never realized. African Americans perceived that the impact of perennial racial inequality directly contributed to the wave of massive unemployment that existed in the thirties as much as any global, systemic economic breakdown. This belief led them to seek solutions to their distress at first along racial lines, utilizing their primary vehicle for change, conventional politics, to accomplish that end. The extent to which blacks incorporated this belief into their political lives was best exemplified in the activities of the Black Metropolis’s supreme political leader, Congressman Oscar 36
the depression comes to the south side
1 2DePriest. The congressman was, without a doubt, the most compelling 3black political figure in Chicago as well as a politician of national promi4nence. As memories of Edward H. Wright’s influential presence faded 5in the four to seven years after his fall from power in 1926 and death in 6August, 1930, DePriest’s attitudes and behavior assumed even more sig7nificance. While Wright as “Iron Master” confronted the white political 8hegemony of Mayor William “Big Bill” Thompson and others head-on, 9DePriest’s approach once he emerged from the political shadows in 1928 10had been to temper his approach. He was neither obsequious to whites 11nor was he able to push the limits of potential independence with the 12combativeness and foresight that had marked Wright’s reign over South 13Side politics. 14 DePriest as political titan now was the bellwether for the feelings and 15actions of most of the people of the South Side. Oscar DePriest of the 16thirties was the same as he had been in the previous decade: he managed 17to skillfully balance a fierce sense of loyalty to his racial group with his 18tendencies toward political opportunism. In the meantime, DePriest was 19as capable of innocently overlooking the need for viable solutions to the 20root causes of economic deprivation as he was of acting self-servingly. 21So, to understand his position two factors must be taken into account. 22It is essential to recognize that his constituents wanted him primarily to 23help protect their status and rights as American citizens. Secondarily, 24they expected him to help improve their physical and material wellbeing 25with political tools to the fullest extent of his limited power. This trans26lated into a highly visible and concerted effort to secure jobs at every 27level of government from the U.S. Post Office to City Hall, as well in the 28private sector when possible. 29 In a world of social proscription, style could be just as important as 30substance to an oppressed group. DePriest’s bombastic and racially bel31ligerent manner was vigorous, and according to Gosnell’s contemporary3 32observation, “such daring is what Negroes like to see in their leaders.” 33His constituents also knew that realistically he could “wield but little 34actual power” and that the only other option was “to make up in vigor4 35ous language for his inability to influence legislation decisively.” 36 Oscar DePriest the activist made an impressive appearance on the 37streets when he acted as the people’s voice and later as a negotiator dur38ing the opening phase of the “street car riots” in August, 1930. In 1932, 39he joined black women in the picketing at the Sopkins Apron factory on 40East 39th Street and remained supportive until their goal of increased 41workers’ benefits and improved conditions was attained. From his politi42cal headquarters at 3140 South Indiana Avenue (which was three blocks the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
37
east of the State Street Corridor of formerly expansive black commercial activities), he consistently provided services from direct job appointments to personal advice to financial assistance for his constituents. The congressman’s attitudes, utterances, and behavior led one contemporary black Midwestern newspaper editor to perceptively write: Oscar DePriest may be a hypocrite of the deepest dye, but he nevertheless symbolizes much which it is imperative that the Negro secure in this country. The Negro after twenty years absence from Congress did not need a man returned there just to talk. We needed a two-fisted bully who had the guts to demand every civil right about which the American Negro dreams; the type of man who is willing to physically battle in the congressional dining hall, barber shop and at President Hoover’s tea table.5
DePriest’s rhetorical defense of his race and assault against racial foes were ultimate acts of courage that were seen as being ideologically necessary and correct, and as tangible forms of service to his black constituents. A confrontation with Representative Thomas L. Blanton of Texas upon his arrival in the House of Representatives typified his tenure in Washington. DePriest reacted to what he construed as a racial slur with a belligerent, emotional dialogue with Blanton. In his own words, DePriest said, “everyone was afraid of Tom Blanton, but I wasn’t afraid of him. I was ready to rise at anytime, anywhere, with anybody and to speak out in defense of my people.”6 When DePriest postured as the ultimate racial hero in this interchange with a southern white congressman on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives, he lifted the spirits of many blacks throughout the nation. They saw DePriest as a racially conscious politician who never compromised with whites on matters of race. Blanton’s reaction was just as predictable, being one of amazement and frustration with DePriest, who he felt “was always trying to stir up trouble, and getting nowhere.”7 What the episode meant was that congressmen were going to have to get used to DePriest, who made it “a frequent occurrence for racial questions to be [raised] on the Floor.”8 As a racial spokesman, his remarks usually revolved around three foci: he considered every matter affecting the members of his race to be his concern; he exuded confidence in blacks whenever he spoke and went far beyond mere defensive racial paeans; and he always reminded his white colleagues in the House of their hypocrisies on the issue of race. As zealous racial spokesman, DePriest continued his involvement in civic affairs and remained a firm supporter of both the Chicago and national offices of the NAACP. He corresponded with the national 38
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1 Walter White, on a fairly regular basis on racial and political 2secretary, 9 matters. In addition, his commitment to and activities in behalf of black 3 advancement were deemed so laudatory in 1930 that the Chicago branch 4 10 5of the NAACP nominated him as a possible Spingarn Award recipient. 6 On the other hand, DePriest’s crudity in demeanor and utterance often 7undermined the goal of racial fairness that he sought to bring about in 8American society. Combined with his political opportunism, it left him 9vulnerable to criticism; the Chicago Defender once accused him of often to raise the race issue in order to 10causing “the people of the community 11 defend the blunders [he made]. ” 11 12 Beyond the congressman’s recognized importance to blacks as a 13spokesman for their racial interests, he also held a national political 14office that allowed him the opportunity, at least potentially, to advance 15the economic interests of blacks. However, he did not. The most reason16able explanation for his behavior rests in the nature of his role in the 17national and local Republican organization, his personality and experi18ences, and the expectations of his constituents. 19 As a loyal Republican congressman at the national level, DePriest 20supported President Herbert Hoover and the national Republican lead21ership even while it failed to develop a plan to help ease the problems 22caused by the depression. Beyond the stimulus of the Reconstruction 23Finance Corporation that lent money to the states and corporations, the 24Republican solution revolved around an encouragement to American 25business to lead the nation out of the depression through entrepreneur26ial initiative and corporate revitalization. While the economic and polit27ical conservatism of many congressional Republicans in general, and 28of Herbert Hoover in particular, could be easily understood based on 29their backgrounds and accomplishments, DePriest’s views and actions 30at times could be misconstrued as appearing contradictory for a man 31representing a constituency that ranged from the economically strained 32well-to-do to the displaced middle class to the completely impoverished. 33It is important to note at this point that DePriest and his supporters were 34like the president and other party supporters in celebrating the idea of 35rugged individualism that pervaded American thinking; the majority 36of African Americans either assumed the responsibility for their own 37economic plight on an individual basis or, because of an inferior social 38status ascribed to their group, associated their problems with American 39racism. They tended to exempt the business and political leaderships of 40the nation from any culpability. In addition, neither DePriest nor most 41of his constituents had experienced the comforts of the American main42stream’s economic prosperity and success either as children in the South the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
39
or as adults in the North, so an increase in the level of economic hardships did not appear anomalous to their life’s experiences. Oscar DePriest the politician and black leader did not hide from the depression-produced problem of unemployment and a lowered standard of living. Indeed, he could not. He spoke frequently throughout the South Side on the issue, but he lacked an intellectual grasp of the severity and origins of the problem and, importantly, he lacked a solution to offer that would involve modification or, more extremely, elimination of the economic system in place. When this South Side spokesman condemned unemployment, he always placed the blame on an outside source. In his eyes it was the immigration of foreigners to America that caused the problem instead of a lack of foresight and planning on the part of the American business community and the national government. When DePriest was given an opportunity to help his unemployed constituents in the Black Metropolis by voting for legislation giving veterans relief through early bonus payments, he voted with the party and against their interests. This was an unpopular stance among the veterans of the vaunted 8th Infantry Regiment of the Illinois National Guard, who had served admirably as a combat unit in France during the last war. Nonetheless, as a party loyalist and a believer in rugged individualism, he opposed federal relief for the states until the winter of 1932 on the grounds that it was unwise, an infringement on states’ rights, and demeaning to persons in need. DePriest also possessed a limited understanding of the basic problems of economic depression, which was complemented by a community-level belief in the need for individual and group self-sufficiency. This sentiment was pervasive throughout African American communities, whose heartfelt need for self-reliance was manifested through their endorsement of the ideology of self-help and racial solidarity. As Jake Jacobs, the protagonist of Richard Wright’s penetrating short novel, Lawd Today, assessed the economic situation from a systemic perspective beyond rugged individualism, he was constantly confronted with conservatism. His barber and political fixer opined in this tone: “Anyone who wants a job can get one.”12 In this instance, in addition to being selfemployed and working in his own barbershop, the barber drew extra income from the existence of the corrupt political system in place in the city, which extended into the federal bureaucracy. When Jacobs needed a fix in the system to protect his highly valued postal employment, the barber manipulated his political connections—for a price. Once, in 1930, DePriest proudly told his colleagues in the House that the black community of his district supported itself through a charitable 40
the depression comes to the south side
1 2organization set up in the twenties, well in advance of the current emer3gency. Subsequently, in October 1930, he was able to easily mobilize 4the Third Ward Republican organization to feed the hungry during the 5entire winter as well as through the Christmas season. He claimed to 6have served 65,000 meals by January 1931 to those in need, white as well 7as black, from his political headquarters at 3140 South Indiana Avenue 8in the Second Ward. On the floor of the House of Representatives he 9explained his and most Republicans’ position against government inter10vention in behalf of the destitute in the following statement: “[I am not] 11asking for public funds to make mendicants of the American people. 12[Applause]. And I represent more poor people than any other man in against the establishment of the dole system 13American represents. I am 13 in America. [Applause]. ” 14 15 By 1931, as the depression worsened, his economic conservatism 16abated somewhat. The times dictated that some immediate political 17action be taken to help Chicagoans. As part of a state-wide effort, in 18the summer of 1931 DePriest was appointed the chairman of the gover19nor’s Committee of Colored People on Relief for the Unemployed. In this 20organization he attempted to garner14black voluntary financial support 21for the governor’s relief commission. Since there are not sufficient data 22upon which to fully identify DePriest’s role evaluation is difficult. How23ever, it is reasonable to assume that since popular sentiment was making 24economic conservatism a difficult position to which to cling, DePriest 25was probably already making progress toward abandoning it. Indeed, 26by 1932, when conditions had deteriorated nation-wide to an intolerable Republicans for appro27level, DePriest did vote with twenty-one other 15 priations to help the poor and unemployed. 28 29 In his varied and opportunistic electoral activities as both a local and 30national racial advocate, he challenged Mayor Thompson twice in less 31than six months during the fall and winter of 1930–1931 and appeared 32unscathed at the end of the ensuing fracases. Outside the environs of 33Chicago, where a split-ticket would not affect him personally, he also 34boldly advocated that blacks vote for Democrats at all levels other than 35the national. In 1932, he aided in the defeat of a state-level black politi36cian who belonged to a white faction other than Thompson’s (whom he 37was again supporting). Ironically, the winner was a white man whose 38presence in Springfield, the state’s capital, reduced the small black repre39sentation from six to five members. 40 In a blow to black nationalism, DePriest also opposed the formation 41of an all-black political party on the grounds that it would further Jim 42Crowism. No doubt, in this case, he also realized that the black influence the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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that existed in Chicago was directly related to Republican Party strength and that a minority group attempting to go it alone was relegating itself, or perhaps its political leader, to eventual political suicide. The Chicago Defender’s political editor, a DePriest foe by 1932, described the attributes of the model black political leader: “Sound in judgment, learned in the qualification of governmental affairs, diplomatic in his expression of thought and possessing a civic morality sufficient unto itself to embrace the hopes and ambitions of his Race.”16 Given his sometimes opportunistic political and personal record, neither DePriest the man nor DePriest the symbol could conform to this description. State-Level Politics
The inertia that existed on the national level against confronting the ills of the depression head-on was duplicated at the state level in Illinois. Here also Republicans controlled both the executive and legislative branches of government. Black representation was larger than in the national Congress though, because six blacks held office in the Illinois General Assembly. Their number was higher because the three contiguous districts that they represented roughly overlapped the two black-dominated and one predominantly black wards of Chicago. In these districts the black electorate had voted as a bloc to ensure election of these officials. Blacks boasted of having one senator, Adelbert H. Roberts, and two representatives, William E. King and Charles J. Jenkins, all of whom came from the Third Legislative District, which was 55 percent black. George W. Blackwell and Harris B. Gaines represented the First Legislative District, which was 44.9 percent black. And Representative William J. Warfield was elected from the Fifth District, which was 45.8 percent black.17 These men had been sent to the General Assembly to act as advocates not only for their party but also for their race in the area of civil rights and politics. What they attempted to accomplish between 1930 and 1932, then, on a racial level, provided a more accurate gauge of their impact at the state level than anything economic. Their activities were concentrated, in particular, in two congruent areas dealing with the matter of race: they worked to guarantee the integrity of civil rights statutes already enacted into law but often overlooked; and they protected their political interests, along with the status of having blacks in elective office in which Northerners took particular pride. When they did act to alleviate the misery caused by the depression, it was part of a party-sponsored effort. The concern of these legislators with civil rights led to the introduction of two bills during the 1931 legislative session. Harris B. Gaines 42
the depression comes to the south side
1 2introduced a civil rights bill that advocated the temporary closing as a 3public nuisance of any establishment or common carrier that discrimi4nated on the basis of race. The Defender labeled the bill as the “strongest 5piece of legislation offered in the interest of the Race in many years [and] the 6second in importance only to the Illinois Equal Rights Bill, which at 18 present time for[bade] open race discrimination within the state. ” The 7 8bill itself contained features that would have given officials at every level 9of government an effective tool for the enforcement of civil rights. 10 Concomitantly, Charles Jenkins introduced a companion bill that 11provided mandatory revocation of19the license of any establishment that 12violated the state’s civil rights act. Since the temper of the times bred 13hostility to measures promoting the20advancement of blacks, their fate 14was to simply languish in committee. The black legislators’ major polit15ical concerns were judicial representation and protecting the bound16aries of Oscar DePriest’s First Congressional District, which included 17most of the Black Metropolis. The district was considered, along with 18the ward structures, as the most important black political base in the 19thirties. Hence, the black members of the Illinois General Assembly 20took particular interest in protecting the racial integrity of its boundar21ies. They participated most actively in the General Assembly’s fight over 22redrawing the state’s congressional districts in May 1931. During the lat23ter part of March, a joint subcommittee of the House and Senate, which 24included Representatives Jenkins and King, was deeply involved in the 25matter. The goal of these black legislators was to keep the district as heav26ily populated with blacks as possible and therefore under black control. 27District lines at the time of the 1930 election included the First, Second, 28and Third city wards and a portion of the Eleventh. All the wards had 29large black populations, with the Second and Third being predominantly 30black. Early recommendations called for the extension of the congressio31nal district southward to 95th Street, which would have included a large 32number of white voters hostile to black interests and hegemony. Jenkins 33insisted that a more practical line could be drawn at 67th Street, which 34was three and one-half miles farther north and nearer to the southern 35extremity of dominant black residency in the Black Belt. The argument 36of the black legislators centered around racial considerations and was 37expressed in this manner: “Since the [black] Race had fought 40 years 38for the right to elect one of their own and he was the21 only representative 39nationwide—they wanted the boundaries to stand.” 40 The legislative session ended with the black legislators satisfied that 41they had maintained racial control over the district. At the end of the ses42sion they stated, “In the district as now outlined, it is certain a member the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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of our group will represent the district in Congress for the next decade.” The manner in which the lines were drawn brought pleasure to DePriest, since the district included only 70 white precincts, mainly Democratic and probably anti-black, out of the total of 222.22 Another indicator of the politicians’ overriding concern with politics was their response to an issue dealing with black judicial representation in the courts of Chicago. This was a matter of deep political and racial concern, since the nation’s only elected black judge, Albert George, had been eliminated from the bench in 1930. His defeat was due primarily to his Republican Party affiliation in a period of marked Democratic ascendancy in Chicago politics. In 1931, the black delegation sponsored a bill “that would provide for the election of three municipal court judges from each municipal district in the state (which would correspond to the congressional districts in Chicago).” As described by the Defender, “it is a response to the widespread demand for more representation on the municipal bench for a district almost entirely dominated by members of the Race.”23 Presumably, it did not pass, since no evidence has been found to show that a black judge sat on the Chicago bench following George’s defeat during the decade. With this concentration of efforts on civil and political rights, the black legislators had, up to 1932, neither introduced any programs nor advanced any ideas that were economically ameliorative. However, their inaction was not unusual in the capital. There was no decisive state action taken against the growing problem of economic deprivation until the fall of 1930, when the governor, Louis L. Emmerson, formed his Commission on Unemployment and Relief. The governor’s commission, which was financed through private funds, usually provided too little and too late during its first year of existence. Once active by November 1930, it began registering both unemployed and employed blacks in order to ascertain the extent of joblessness among them. In addition, the commission attempted to feed and house the most severely deprived found among the ranks of the unemployed. What limited black involvement there was came through the specially created Committee of Colored People on Relief for the Unemployed that DePriest chaired. How successful its efforts were is not known, but Chicago blacks did establish themselves as being generous in all-black causes that were led by blacks with strong communities.24 In the autumn of 1931 the governor’s initiative to fight the problem of the depression was in public hands, but success depended on the raising of private funds. By the middle of the winter of 1931–1932, the situation in Cook County (which included Chicago) worsened with the depletion of 44
the depression comes to the south side
1 25 2private funds. By February, the severity of the situation brought action 3from a heretofore inactive legislature. The General Assembly immedi4ately began to examine and debate the merits of issuing bonds to aid in 5the relief of Chicago and Cook County. These two large political units, 6which had led the state in population and wealth during the halcyon 7days of the twenties, were now in the vanguard of state areas inundated 8with economic problems. For six days and nights, politicians from the 9northern tier of Illinois worked to convince their downstate counter10parts of the wisdom of saving their fellow Illinoisans. 11 The final tally of votes showed that the black legislators had voted 12with the rest of the Chicago area’s representation to create a state-wide 13agency to provide for the needs of the unemployed and destitute. The 14unanimity in voting demonstrated by the black politicians was by no 15means a significantly independent gesture. By 1932 Illinois Republicans, 16nearly en masse, were ready to vote in favor of relief for Illinoisans. The 17action of the black politicians was merely a move taken in lockstep as 18part of a dramatic upheaval that was occurring in Republican thinking. 19The state was now willing to intervene in behalf of citizens after all other 20remedies had failed. 21 In the weeks that followed, the Illinois Emergency Relief Commission, 22the agency that had been born out of this desperation and need, began 23to distribute its initial appropriation of $20 million through a network 24of already existing local relief agencies throughout Illinois. The Relief when it began to 25Commission continued its service until August 1932, 26 administer federal funds in place of state monies. 26 27 28Political Leadership in the Black Metropolis 29 Political leadership locally in the Black Metropolis was provided by 30 DePriest and two other politicians, who had been in office since the twen31 ties. Louis B. Anderson still served as both alderman and committeeman 32 of the Second Ward, and Robert Jackson continued to hold the post of 33 alderman in DePriest’s Third Ward. As long as William Thompson was 34 mayor, these black Republicans could depend on maintaining their posi35 tions as the major procurers of jobs for their constituents. Besides jobs 36 working for city government, the alderman hired precinct workers, and 37 even author Richard Wright found a job as an assistant precinct cap38 tain early in his short Chicago stay.27 This aldermanic power, in turn, 39 enhanced their status as guardians of an effective political organization 40 that brought economic assistance to persons in need of it. Under these 41 circumstances, black politicians continued with their usual political 42 the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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activities and acted on many occasions as though the depression was not the dominant issue in American life. However, even had they developed an interest, they could not have been productive anyhow. Anderson and Jackson, like DePriest, had neither remedies nor the power to solve the economic ills of the Black Belt. Their activities fell into three major categories. First, there was the non-electoral, where politicians concentrated on enacting legislation and providing community services. The second was the symbiotic, where politics and civic protest were supposedly combined effectively to attain a common racial goal. The third was the electoral, where the politicians continued to emphasize the prominence of race as a factor in political status, thought, and behavior even when economic wellbeing was a matter of equal, if not greater, importance. At the beginning of the Depression decade, Anderson’s Second Ward contained over 20 percent of the city’s 234,000 black citizens. Its level of voter registration was 77 percent, as compared to a figure among all the whites in the city of 68 percent.28 The real needs of Anderson’s constituents were such that they should have been in opposition to Thompson and Anderson, but such was not the case. This was demonstrated by the 1931 Unemployment Census that showed that “there were no areas in the city which were harder hit than the sections inhabited largely by colored people. In one section of the Second Ward over 85 percent of the persons ten years of age and over who had been gainfully employed in 1930 were unemployed a year later.”29 Obviously, Anderson’s inability to deal with the depression was not enough to dissuade his constituents from supporting him, as he was able to hold his post until 1933. Despite Anderson’s political position, his activities revealed no major contribution of the DePriest type to the politics of race advancement, yet he continued to hold on to his office. Just as in the twenties, he was still only nominally affiliated with any civil rights organizations. Yet, because of his reputation in the black community, based on such incidents as a Palmer House Hotel snub in 1926, in which he protested loudly and successfully for immediate redress, he was described in one contemporary study of black Chicago politics as “an outspoken foe of all forms of racial discrimination and as one who has fought segregation in hotels and public buildings in Chicago.”30 He was also presented to his supporters in the pages of the Chicago Defender (in a statement laden with special raciallytinged rhetoric) as a man . . . [whose] mission is . . . to serve his people—his Race—in the truest sense of the word—in measure beyond anything implied by the term in 46
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1 2 the realm of politics [and] by his work in their behalf, has advanced the 3 cause of the Colored Race, softened the judgments and broadened the 4 viewpoints of those within the scope of his influence out of proportion to 31 5 the limits of his opportunity.” 6 7When he contemplated another term in office in 1931, he was endorsed who noted “the devotion that he has shown to 8by his ward supporters, 32 9his racial identity.” 10 Adjacent to the Second Ward to the south was the Third, which had a 11population that accounted for nearly 30 percent of Chicago’s black citi12zenry. It was still the home base politically of Alderman Robert R. Jack13son, who along with DePriest provided the ward’s political leadership. 14Jackson’s position in politics was unlike Anderson’s, since control over 15patronage in his ward was in the hands of DePriest as committeeman. 16Also unlike Anderson, he did not hold an influential place in Republican 17leadership circles. Therefore, he was a politician with fewer of the poli18tician’s natural prerogatives, and less influence or power at his disposal 19than either DePriest or Anderson. On the other hand, though, “Fighting 20Bob Jackson,” as he was also known based on his service in Cuba dur21ing the Spanish-American War, enjoyed a tremendous popularity that the “largest black 22was paralleled by his success as owner of purportedly 33 owned press in the nation” during the 1920s. 23 24 Jackson produced no legislative accomplishments during the early 25Depression but took credit for causing the Illinois Bell Telephone Com26pany, not noted for fair hiring practices, to open an34 office employing 27black women in the heart of the Black Belt in 1930. Perhaps because 28he lacked clout and any prominence in party circles, he might have 29been freer to pursue more personal interests. At any rate, Jackson still 30remained active with the Chicago Urban League as a member and as a 31financial campaign manager. Jackson faced little or no opposition dur32ing this period because of his affiliation with DePriest, who dispensed 33the favors and jobs that kept the organization viable. He existed in the 34shadow of the most dominant figure in black politics and carefully devel35oped the political knack of not disrupting or challenging the status quo, 36either that established by the party leaders at City Hall or at DePriest’s 37headquarters in the ward. Jackson stood as the35 classic example of the 38political survivor within the machine structure. 39 Anderson and Jackson served on the Chicago City Council, where, 40theoretically, legislative activities should have dealt with issues affecting 41the city’s citizenry on a non-partisan basis. In fact, the activities of the 42Council were highly partisan in accordance with the prevailing attitude the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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held by whites as well as blacks, Thompson Republicans as well as Democrats. This meant that legislation could not always be passed that would benefit the city’s electorate if one party or the other stood in opposition. During the first year of the Great Depression, which was the last for the fading Republican Party, the latter remained adamantly opposed to change. As a political voice for that mass of the citizenry in need, the Proceedings of the Chicago City Council during the early Depression revealed neither a city-sponsored effort along partisan lines nor a black-directed initiative that was aimed at alleviating the problems of the depression. Apart from the legislative responsibilities of the Council, the actual operations of city government were carried out almost independently of the aldermen. City government was run through various bureaus and departments that experienced only a modicum of involvement or interference from aldermanic oversight committees. As a result of this division of authority and responsibilities, Anderson and Jackson were left with a limited capability to effect any comprehensive changes. Yet, as was the case in the twenties, when Thompson also held office, Anderson was still ostensibly the head of the City Council’s powerful finance committee that “practically [ran] the city’s finances,”36 and was also the Council’s floor leader for Thompson. However, on the issues of importance to black citizens, especially in regard to the economy, Anderson’s role was more symbolic than real. These black aldermen were obligated to act as the spokesmen for South Side grievances over evictions, welfare administration, and educational cutbacks, but they did virtually nothing to bring these issues before the Council or the city administration. Importantly, the administrations with which the aldermen worked, those of Mayors William Thompson (1927–1931) and Anton Cermak (1931–1933), were both sympathetic to, but not entirely effective when dealing with, the problems of the unemployed and the poor. Thompson’s attitude in 1930 was one that still was common to both Republican and Democratic politicians. It showed an adherence to the notion that a laissez faire policy (exclusive of the city’s perennial and graft-producing public works projects) would allow recovery in the industrial, commercial, and service sectors and that direct governmental assistance through relief would destroy the workers’ sense of self-reliance. Speaking before the Chicago City Council on October 22, 1930, Thompson asserted: Chicago is suffering from a business depression and unemployment . . . it is my ambition to help correct existing conditions. Relief should take the 48
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1 2 form of employment which will enable a man to maintain his self-respect 3 and his confidence in his ability to provide for himself and his own. The 4 Mayor is putting in 99% of his time to create jobs for the unemployed and 37 5 1% for soup houses and charity. 6 7Mayor Thompson’s street and building projects did lead to thousands of 8workers being hired, although on a seasonal basis. While no data on hir9ing are available, it is reasonable to assume that in accordance with tradi10tion, the overwhelming majority would have been white. 11 The Chicago City Council addressed the problems of the depression 12through the maintenance of an ongoing committee that dealt specifically 13with 38the investigation and monitoring of the worst ills of the depres14sion. In the key area of spending in behalf of charitable ends, where 15the interest of government in its population would have had the greatest 16impact on the declining quality of life, the city government did not make such ends in 17any appropriations. The $3.5 million that was spent toward 39 Chicago in 1930 came from private, charitable sources. 18 19 As to meeting the needs of individual constituents, patronage and 20favors were dispensed by the ward committeemen, who engaged legally 21and openly in partisan politics. Anderson and DePriest held these posi22tions, and they either assigned prospective job seekers to the municipal 23workforce or wrote letters of recommendation to city agencies on their 24behalf. By 1932, these ward bosses had helped build a black component 25within the city civil service which reached a level of 1,908 employees, or position 266.4 percent of all city workers. This almost approximated the 40 of blacks in the city’s total population, which was 7 percent. While the 27 bulk of the jobs were neither professional nor clerical, they did provide 28 29steady employment for black workers in decent-paying job categories. 30 The influence of the ward bosses over federal civil service positions 31was not as significant, but some influence did exist, especially at the main 32U.S. Post Office building in Chicago, as previously described. In this 33instance, the recommendation of a white U.S. representative or senator, 34which would have been solicited through the local party organization’s 35office, helped secure jobs and promotions. By 1933, partially because of blacks accounted for over a quarter of the city’s postal 36this arrangement, 41 37employees. 38 Another favor that could be just as important as patronage was the 39protection that politicians provided for those persons involved in illegal 40operations such as policy and other gambling pursuits. The policy bar41ons could and did pay off the politicians for protection from the police. 42The influence of the depression on the city’s patronage and protection the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
49
arrangements was highly significant because it set into motion the voter discontent that swept the Republicans out of office in 1931. With a Democratic ascendancy, the control over the city’s spoils system passed completely out of the hands of Thompson and his black supporters. In addition to activities that were solely political in nature, blacks occasionally used politics in combination with protest for racial advancement. This linkage was best exemplified by a complex issue with political, labor, and civil rights implications that had nothing to do with the depression or electoral survival. In 1930, organized opposition to the nomination of Judge John Parker of North Carolina to the U.S. Supreme Court built and represented this interaction at its zenith. A groundswell of local interest developed, because blacks perceived that both their political and civil rights were being threatened. A statement by Parker in 1920 on the unsuitability of allowing blacks to participate in political affairs had surfaced, and it became the basis of the campaign to block his nomination. At the same time, his anti-union position placed him in direct opposition to what the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, packinghouse workers, and other African American laborers needed in the way of protection from exploitative corporations. Led by the national NAACP, the black community missed an opportunity to join with other groups with a similar labor outlook to expand their opposition and chances for victory.42 Both Oscar DePriest and the recognized vanguard organization in civil rights protest, the national office of the NAACP, moved to the forefront of opposition to this nomination, a reaction that was treated solely, and myopically, as a protest action. Oddly, the branch was initially quiet on this issue, but jointly, the two forces developed a coordinated campaign. To the black politicians of Chicago, the actions of President Hoover before and with the nomination seemed to represent a Republican retreat from a policy of racial inclusiveness to one of exclusivity based on “lily-whiteism.”43 This was the type of issue that neither appealed nor had relevance to the Thompson machine. However, to blacks, what was at stake was the right to participate politically in the governance of Chicago, the state, and the nation. To the NAACP, the Parker nomination “constitute[d] a grave threat to the future of the Negro and to the work in the Negro’s behalf by the NAACP is he became part of the Supreme Court which at [this] time was distinctively conservative and almost invariably more concerned with property rights than human rights.”44 Oscar DePriest was especially active and found himself in a position where he even had to resist pressures emanating from the Republican White House to curtail his involvement in the Parker affair.45 DePriest lobbied against Parker’s confirmation with members of the Senate, with 50
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1 2his immediate targets being the two Illinois senators, Otis F. Glenn and 3Charles Deneen. By mid-April,46DePriest had been assured by Glenn of his 4opposition to the nomination. In the meantime, both DePriest and the 5NAACP brought pressure to bear on Deneen. Dr. Herbert Turner, presi6dent of the Chicago NAACP, wired him that “Negroes of Chicago and 47 7Illinois, and indeed, the nation, are awaiting your evidenced attitude.” 8Deneen did later come to share his colleague’s sentiments; however, it is 9conjectural as to whether black efforts had a decisive effect on the sena10tor, given the confirmed prominence of similar pressure exerted by orga11nized labor. 12 On the day preceding the final confirmation vote, the Chicago 13NAACP held three large mass meetings to show its opposition to the 14Parker nomination. So important was Chicago’s support in the Parker 15effort that two national officers, acting National Secretary Walter White, 16and Director of Branches Robert W. Bagnall, came to speak before the 17large assemblages. At the city’s largest black church, the Olivet Baptist, 18Dr. Turner presented State Representative William E. King (representing 19DePriest’s political organization), who in turn introduced Walter White. 20The rally was a success, as over 300 telegrams were written on the spot 48 21and given to Western Union employees who were there for the event. 22Impressed by that day’s efforts, Archie L. Weaver of the Chicago NAACP 23later wrote to Walter White in New York, “You are putting up a won24derful fight against Judge49 Parker. I think everyone admires the NAACP 25for its fighting qualities.” In addition, the Chicago Urban League, in an 26unusual role as a protest body, helped by sending out speakers to thir27teen separate locations, mainly churches, to help convince people of the 28need to take all the measures at their disposal to defeat Parker. Another 29citywide black movement, Ida B. Wells-Barnett’s Douglass Civic League, petitions with 25,000 signatures that 30added its support and collected 50 were sent to the President. 31 32 On Monday, April 28, 1930, the vote was taken and Parker failed to 33win confirmation. Senator William Borah noted that “among those in has been unre34the gallery was Congressman DePriest of Chicago who 51 lenting in his fight to line up votes among senators. ” Subsequently, the 35 Defender summarized the Parker fight as “the most imposing political 36 37demonstration ever staged by the Negro in the United States and [was] 38the impressive forefront of a sharp attack, not only upon the administranullification of the 14th and 15th amend39tion’s lily white policy, but upon 52 ments to the Constitution. ” 40 41 Perhaps the most important index that illustrated the effect of the 42depression on politics was electoral participation and the change in the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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party affiliation. Professor Harold F. Gosnell observed the latter phenomenon and recorded a dramatic change in the affiliation of the city’s white electorate that would have a meaning for decades to come. Examination of the same political index in the Black Belt revealed that blacks resisted the influence of the Great Depression in their political activities. Blacks, alone as a group, remained within the ranks of the Republican Party despite a citywide trend away from it. Professor Gosnell, in his study of black voting behavior as part of the city’s overall pattern, noted that blacks . . . had opposite political tendencies to those . . . [of] whites of similar economic status. Not until 1932 was there any indication that the Negroes were affected by the citywide drift to the Democratic Party, [and then only slightly]. The areas in which there were large numbers of colored voters were so far out of line politically [that they represented an anomaly].53
This was explainable by the reluctance of blacks to leave the fold of Republicanism, which was long considered the bastion of protection for the endangered civil rights they cherished. Then, there was the strong and pervasive influence of the factor of race, the marginal existence of blacks before and during the Depression that meant that the impact of occupational and social dislocation was not felt by blacks in the manner it was by whites, and finally, the historical aversion of blacks to the Democratic Party along with the belief that the political fortunes of blacks lay with the Republican Party regardless of economic or social conditions. Of equal importance, however, to this commitment to the Republican Party was the emergence of the roots of party realignment among blacks.54 The Depression produced the circumstances that helped lay these foundations, the likes of which first appeared as dissatisfaction with Thompson’s leadership and actions. Four political campaigns were particularly significant in that they illuminated the relationship between the factors of politics and racial consciousness. The first was the race to retain the only elected municipal judgeship held by a black person anywhere nationally in 1930; the second involved the fight for a U.S. Senate seat held by a racial friend of Chicago blacks late in 1930; the third focused on the pivotal mayoral race of 1931 that ended Bill Thompson’s career in politics; and the fourth centered on the congressional race of 1932, in which the blacks considered the reelection of Oscar DePriest to Congress to be more important than the presidential race that decided the path the entire nation would follow economically. The culmination of all these campaigns were defeats and 52
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1 2near-defeats, the first evidence that the demise of black Republican hege3mony over political life in the Black Belt was occurring. Another result 4of continued electoral defeats was an increase in the Black Metropolis’s 5factionalism as the spoils of power began to dwindle. What little was left 6was fought over in the hopes that the political organization could sustain 7itself until the party’s fortunes were reversed. 8 The struggle to retain a municipal judgeship involved Judge Albert 9George, who initially had been elected in a citywide election in 1923, 10took his oath of office in 1924, and had just completed a six-year term 11in office by 1930. So significant was the judgeship that “with the elecin the country felt that he 12tion of a Negro judge every colored person 55 13benefitted in some way, however slight.” In an action featuring racial 14consciousness over organizational interest, black politicians had selected and despite 15George to run because of his high caliber of professionalism 56 the fact he lacked a strong Republican affiliation. In the Republican 16 primary election, Judge George supposedly finished thirteenth out of a 17 field in which only the top twelve vote-getters were considered for the 18 November ballot. A requested canvass revealed that in some white areas, 19 57 election judges hadn’t even bothered to tally votes for Judge George. 20 21The official vote result after the canvass showed Judge George had placed 22eleventh on the election list. Exulting at this turn of events, the Defender 23reported that “thus Chicago will have the opportunity to keep ahead of 24the rest of the cities of the United States by returning to the municipal lawyer of our 25court bench a member of the Race . . . the first and only 58 group ever to be elected to a judgeship in the country. ” 26 27 Judge George’s political resurrection during the spring had aroused 28the black community. The fervor surrounding this victory was strong 29enough to build a community-wide commitment to his reelection in 30the fall, and the second day of November was even proclaimed “Judge 31George Day.” Unfortunately, the symbol of racial juridical excellence was 32to suffer another defeat in the general election. The Democratic victory, 33to which blacks were oblivious, came on a wave of economic discontent 34that Chicagoans throughout the city had created. It was simply over35whelming and swept all the Republican judges seeking election or reelec36tion out of office. Yet black hopes were buoyed in the fall as they had been 37in the spring by the faint possibility that 59a recount might be taken and 38that George might survive a second time. These hopes quickly faded as had finished twenty-fourth in a field of as 39official returns showed George 60 many applicants for office. 40 41 Shrugging off this defeat, the black politicians and electorate were united 42in their desire to secure a post in any manner feasible. An opportunity the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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occurred soon thereafter, when a judicial vacancy developed that was to be filled in the February 1931 aldermanic election. For whatever reasons, whether it was a case of too little black power to move the party to nominate an African American, or due to trade-offs arranged for some other considerations, George was not selected to run. Instead, he was appointed to the Illinois Parole Board less than two weeks before the election in a revolving door situation that found him replacing another black man who was being reassigned elsewhere in the Republican political network.61 In addition to the judicial race, a second and very important issue had developed since the 1930 spring primaries. The race for the U.S. Senate seat held by Ruth Hanna McCormick, a longtime friend of blacks, developed into one of the clearest indices illuminating the tenuous nature of the Thompson–Black Metropolis political relationship. As the fall campaign of 1930 entered its final stage, a surprise developed when Mayor Thompson openly sought the defeat of Mrs. McCormick, a fellow Republican, and urged the election of James Hamilton Lewis, a Democrat.62 Thompson’s campaign against Senator McCormick was prompted by personal and petty motivations63 as well as political ones relating to her denial of the value of the support he had given earlier in April.64 The friction between Thompson and McCormick centered on the issues of prohibition, Cook County bossism, and Thompson’s personal animosity toward the McCormick family. As far as blacks were concerned, other factors were of utmost importance: racial and political survival, and political loyalty. To most blacks in Chicago, the Democratic Party to which Hamilton Lewis belonged was the institutional incarnation of evil. Yet “Big Bill” Thompson, as constant a friend as blacks had ever had in Chicago politics, was asking blacks not just to break with tradition and vote for a Democrat, but to break from their racial leadership in the Black Metropolis and follow him personally. This factor, along with his request to deny their support to an individual who had personally befriended their race, amounted to an unprecedented move on his part,65 the results of which were to prove disastrous for all parties involved. Thompson’s assault against Mrs. McCormick began with an appeal to DePriest and other black political leaders to sign a petition supporting Lewis. Two days later, after failing to win their endorsement, he approached the bipartisan City Council to win its endorsement. After this move in the Council, Thompson committed a political error of staggering dimensions the following Sunday morning in various South Side neighborhoods. First, flyers were distributed that solicited votes for Lewis by advertising “To vote against future race riots, get sample ballot here. 54
the depression comes to the south side
1 2William Hale Thompson, Mayor.” Then, a float was sent through the 3streets that carried three figures who conspicuously represented aspects 4of white folklore about their “liberation” of blacks: Abe Lincoln, Little 5Eva, and Uncle Tom. Finally, an hour after the float appeared, the affront 6was exacerbated as uniformed (and armed) city policemen delivered 7Lewis’s petitions to the doorsteps of black churches on the South Side. 8The far-ranging ramifications left even the leadership of the non-politidenouncing 9cal Chicago NAACP aghast. Dr. Turner issued a statement 66 the mayor’s actions that reached the Chicago Tribune. 10 11 DePriest led the opposition against Thompson’s choice and timed his 12supporters’ break for the most advantageous moment. At meeting after 13meeting, black hostility to Thompson’s candidate built, although none 14accrued to Thompson personally. Black political spokesmen and spokes15women carefully parsed their attacks as targeting Thompson’s action as a 16misguided party leader, as distinct from targeting Thompson, the man. 17The results were a testimony to DePriest’s political shrewdness: he man18aged very diplomatically to dissuade blacks away from Thompson on 19this issue only while avoiding an open break with the Thompson fac20tion, the move Wright had made in 1926. Two days later, in desperation, 21Thompson pled personally to DePriest for the support he needed but did 22not get. Finally, the mayor was forced to back down. 23 The election results produced a victory for black Republicans but a 24loss for Mrs. McCormick. She lost throughout the state and in Chicago 25in all fifty wards except the three black ones. In a display of appreciation 26following her defeat, Mrs. McCormick made a special visit to the South 27Side’s Appomattox Club to give her thanks to these few loyal RepubliDefender 28cans. Viewing black behavior at the polls, both the Tribune and 67 29lauded the black effort for its steadfastness to Republicanism. 30 McCormick’s loss, while not inevitable, had been partially foreseen 31by the Tribune, which had pointed out the areas where the McCormick 32candidacy was most vulnerable to the ill effects Hoover’s leadership (or lack thereof): prohibition and the declining economic condi33apparent 68 tions. DePriest’s views after the election confirmed this. He wrote that: 34 35 36 The recent so-called Democratic landslide was the result of the great busi37 ness depression that is upon us—unemployment and the vexatious pro38 hibition question. There was no power on earth to stop expression of the 39 universal attitude of the American people and the party in power became 40 the object of the unpleasant condition and consequently went down to 69 41 defeat. 42 the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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Blacks had faced a dilemma in having to choose between, on the one hand, racial and political loyalty to the Republican Party and to McCormick despite the obviously looming possibility of defeat, and on the other, support for Thompson in a deviant cause that would have put them in the winning Democratic camp. They consciously chose the former and thereby hastened their fall from power. The most important events of the following year, 1931, were the mayoral race of the spring and the eviction riots of the summer. In each, blacks in the Black Metropolis had noteworthy roles to play.70 Early in the year, “Big Bill” Thompson ran for reelection to a fourth, non-consecutive term in office. He counted on heavy black support despite the McCormick debacle several months earlier. However, 1931 was a different kind of political year. The stunning Democratic victory in the fall election of 1930 set a precedent for what was to become a pattern threatening to the former Republican hegemony. Also, Thompson’s popularity was at an all-time low among white citizens irrespective of party affiliation. His opponent, Anton Cermak, accused him of incompetence, malfeasance, and corruption. Cermak appealed to the best interests of the city’s electorate and offered them honest and responsible government as an alternative to Thompson’s corruption. On the other hand, to the racially prejudiced elements among the city’s electorate, Cermak offered racism at its worst: he promised an end to black political representation and what his handbills described (in a tragic distortion of reality) as black dominance in city employment.71 Thompson asked blacks to support him on the basis of past friendship and performance, and on the promise that the much-anticipated World’s Fair of 1933 would be open to blacks to enjoy as first-class citizens.72 DePriest, always a Thompson stalwart until the latter’s machinations in November, originally had decided to sit out the election, but relented only after an appeal for help from the mayor.73 Alderman Anderson, on the other hand, remained completely faithful to Thompson. Further complicating the situation in the primary was the move of a strong, antiThompson, white Republican faction which ran a popular magistrate, Judge John H. Lyle, as the party’s standard-bearer. Lyle was considered much more reputable than Thompson, possessing the intellectual and moral capabilities that Thompson lacked to deal with the economic problems facing the city. His entry into the political race produced black defections to his camp immediately. The Defender’s political editor, A. N. Fields, openly broke with the Second Ward Regular Republican organization, of which he was a member and which Anderson headed. Fields stated that “we, as a group, cannot afford to place all of our eggs in one 56
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1 2basket. We must awaken to74 a sense of duty and realize the economic 3plight now confronting us.” Two weeks later, he continued in a similar 4and revealing manner in stating: 5 6 We as a group are placed in a different situation from other racial identi7 ties in that it is always of utmost importance to us to first determine to the 8 satisfaction of our fellows whether or not this or that candidate asking for 9 our suffrage possesses the requisite qualifications to be able to properly 10 determine and give due consideration to the rights and privileges due us 11 as American citizens. It is unfortunate, [but a candidate’s] stand on great 12 issues affecting the tariff, the industrial life, and other issues of state [are of 75 13 secondary importance]. 14 15When the primary results were announced, Thompson had emerged the 16victor over Lyle, and Black Belt politicians and their followers geared to 17fight the Democratic challenger, Cermak. Needless to say, Cermak was 18unable to mount an effective campaign in the Black Belt, even though he 19did appear before black audiences to carry forth his party’s message that 20it could solve economic problems. The citywide election returns of April by 191,916 211931 showed a near total repudiation of Thompson, who lost 76 votes and suffered the worst defeat in the city’s history. Meanwhile, 22 23Black Belt tallies showed an equal disavowal of Cermak, the victorious 24Democrat. White Chicago could and did rejoice at the end to Thomp25son’s reign and at what was hopefully the beginning of reform-oriented 26rule by Cermak. The Tribune’s voting analysis showed that Thompson 27carried only five wards, two on the “gangster-ridden West Side” and the 28wards of the Black Metropolis. 29 Cermak’s victory crystallized the lesson that racial loyalty in politics 30was a poor substitute for political acumen. Once Cermak moved into 31office, he began to confirm black fears of the possible removal of Repubor retained 32licans from the city’s payroll. Overall fewer blacks received 77 33jobs under Cermak’s regime than under Thompson’s. A Defender head34line blared that 3,000 “Race people” had lost their jobs shortly after Cer35mak’s entry into City Hall. Further, Cermak developed an image in the 36Black Metropolis as an opponent of black progress because of his crack37down of South Side gambling and the increasing number of incidents 38of police brutality against black citizens. Interestingly though, Cermak 39adopted an approach in dealing with blacks that was similar to Thomp40son’s in that he promised a great deal more to blacks78 than he was going 41to deliver, for example a school board appointment. And, like Thomp42son, he did reward party stalwarts who had supported him regardless the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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of color. Black Democrats, who had previously suffered with a minority political status in the Black Belt for years, prepared to receive their benefits. Earl B. Dickerson, for example, received an appointment as Assistant Attorney General for the northern district of Illinois.79 Cermak then moved punitively against his most visible Republican adversary and Thompson supporter among the black Republicans, Alderman Louis B. Anderson. He kept a campaign pledge to break Anderson, and he did so by removing him from his finance committee post in the City Council. This removal was significant, because in relieving Anderson of his post, he was removing the highest-ranking black political office holder in the city. Alderman Jackson, in turn, was appointed to this same committee post (but without authority on the floor), probably in an attempt to show that only selected Republicans were being punished.80 DePriest’s decision not to give Thompson full-fledged support, which helped Cermak’s cause, was also a factor. To those black Republicans who appeared as though they might emerge as the Black Belt leaders of the future Cermak offered an olive branch in an attempt to win their loyalty. Attorney William L. Dawson received and rejected such an offer during this early portion of the decade.81 Also, under Cermak’s regime only blacks with a Democratic Party affiliation would be allowed to dispense patronage (unlike the arrangement that existed under Democratic Mayor Dever’s reign from 1923 through 1927).82 This meant that if the Democratic Party remained in power for any length of time, a Republican affiliation would prove to be worthless. The August eviction riot of 1931 that produced a violent confrontation resulting in three deaths was an event that clearly marked the nadir in the once (purportedly) mutually beneficial relationship between the black Republican political organization and the Black Metropolis community. Yet, in its aftermath, the South Side took on an aura of calm which pleased the black politicians who were engaging in another biennial struggle for control of the First Congressional District. A changed tone in South Side politics was seen as the Chicago Defender’s A. N. Fields opened the campaign with an article entitled “Is Congressman DePriest a Figure or a Failure?” The piece argued that the congressman did not deserve to be returned to office because he lacked the necessary qualities to protect and serve black people.83 Although Fields had earlier backed DePriest several times for office (being a member of DePriest’s organization), his obvious new partiality to challenger Louis B. Anderson earned him the sobriquet of the “Anderson Press Bureau.”84 Alderman Anderson’s decision to challenge the incumbent was probably related to three factors. The extension of the Second Ward boundary 58
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1 2lines to virtually dominate the First Congressional District and, con3comitantly, the elimination of the Third Ward (DePriest’s base) from the 4district were significant. Also, DePriest had never been so popular as to 5be totally invulnerable from criticism. In fact, the Communists accused 6him of raising rents on his tenants at a time when they couldn’t afford to Guard troops into Washington Park 7buy food, and of bringing National 85 to intimidate the unemployed. Lastly, Anderson had been stripped of 8 most of his influence and power with the loss of his leadership post in 9 the City Council and then of his patronage because of his Republican 10 affiliation. Anderson’s ambitions could now be satisfied only at DePriest’s 11 expense. 12 13 The campaign was marked by charges and countercharges. A. N Fields 14attacked DePriest on his lack of economic vision. Fields wrote, “a hun15gry man cannot appreciate a speech on an empty stomach”; further, “as 16a racial group we are passing through a crucial test, a test which needs a up to the growing and accumulating require17man capable of measuring 86 ments of the times. ” Indicative of the level of the internecine fighting, a 18 columnist sympathetic to DePriest wrote in criticism of Anderson a week 19 87 later. Then, charges that were sure to spice up any campaign involv20 ing black politicians began to circulate. Each faction spread rumors that 21 white outsiders were at work to subvert the black political stronghold in 22 the First Congressional District and Second Ward.88 23 24 The April primary election brought victory to DePriest and an end to 25Anderson’s political career. In addition to the race, Anderson also lost 26his committeeman’s post to State Representative William E. King. Black 27Republicans had to reconcile themselves to the fact that if they did not 28vote for DePriest in November, whatever his deficiencies in relation to 29personal qualities and his stance on the depression, their race would 30lose its only congressional seat. In an all-out effort to ensure a DePriest 31victory, the contending forces of the primary ostensibly united behind 32DePriest. Several weeks before the election the Defender stated in the 33rhetoric of racial survival that: 34 35 The voters of the First Congressional District should regard any Race man 36 or woman as an enemy of the Race who would refuse to support the first 37 black man who had gained a seat in Congress after we had been without 38 representation in the august body for a period of 27 years. Young men 39 and women who are looking to the future should make the re-election of 40 Oscar DePriest a racial and not a political matter. The alarm should be 89 41 sounded that the hope and advancement of the Race is in danger. . . . 42 the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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DePriest counted on both Second and Third Ward support in November to offset the white vote in the other wards of the district. The voters of the Second Ward offered him votes and campaign support, and the Republican Party workers of the Third, who were no longer in the district, invaded the area and a provided a full-fledged vote canvassing and recruitment effort. With the final tally DePriest won only 5,935 votes to Baker’s 17,971 in the heavily white Democratic First, Fourth, and Eleventh wards. In the Second Ward, DePriest amassed 27,734 votes to his opponent’s 7,332 to give him his overall victory margin of 8,000 votes. The election results also showed that Newton, the black Communist candidate, polled only 843 votes out of 61,467 cast.90 Overall, the DePriest victory was only a minor episode in the national elections, which saw the emergence of Franklin D. Roosevelt as leader of the party that brought destruction to the Republican Party practically everywhere. Yet, the Roosevelt candidacy itself had been virtually ignored by blacks. The result of this black allegiance to the Republican Party in the 1932 presidential election was a resounding defeat of Roosevelt in the Second and Third wards by a margin of three to one.91 One emerging Republican Party loyalist, Corneal Davis, reminisced nearly a half-century later that “we were hungry, without jobs. But we didn’t know who this Roosevelt fella was and hadn’t been able to trust a Democrat. Just another Democrat who’d ignore the blacks. . . .” 92 The Defender further reflected the black attitude of being oblivious to these changing political conditions by finding a bright spot in the Hoover defeat. The rebirth of the Republican Party was not seen as possible except under a more enlightened leadership than Hoover had provided in the areas of civil rights and economics.93 One strain of analysis even attributed the defeat of Hoover to the loss of the black vote due to broken promises after the Mississippi River flooding of 1927. As a result of the aldermanic elections of 1933, William L. Dawson became alderman of the Second Ward, replacing Louis B. Anderson. Dawson won partially because he was known as being “popular with the masses.”94 More importantly, as a foreshadowing of the future the election of Dawson marked a pivotal day in Second Ward and South Side politics, accelerating the demise of the DePriest submachine. Nonetheless, DePriest as Third Ward committeeman controlled the choices of the Second Ward’s committeeman, William E. King. In effect, King was a Republican leader without patronage or privileges to dispense. As a result of these political changes, DePriest for his part was a captain commanding a ghost ship headed toward the proverbial rocks of destruction. 60
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1 2 3In summary, 1931 brought the defeat of Thompson and the sting of a 4Cermak victory. The Democratic victory in the mayoral race of 1931 did 5more than just eliminate Thompson’s influence and patronage, factors 6that had benefitted the Black Metropolis. It opened the door to black 7political dissolution where there had been empowerment. A. N. Fields 8wrote that African Americans now “could see the last vestiges of self-de9termination in the ‘Black Belt’ pass into the hands of the men who seek 10only to use the community as a ‘harvest field’ from which to reap ‘unholy condition would [have been] impossible in the lifetime of 11gold.’ . . . This 95 Ed Wright. ” 12 13 The black shift in politics was slow in coming, and it was too early 14for party realignment, but suffering became intolerable under a Repub15lican leadership that consistently failed to act decisively. Even during 16an economic depression, politics remained the vehicle through which 17many black Chicagoans ultimately believed their most important racial 18advances were to be made. Throughout Bronzeville, political considerand racial solidarity at the polls overshad19ations such as party loyalty 96 owed economic realities. By 1933, with the advent of the New Deal, the 20 Democratic Party assumed a greater control over city politics than any 21 local political organization had ever previously envisioned. Bolstered by 22 the largesse of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s platform, party loyalty shifted to 23 make Chicago a Democratic stronghold. The Second, Third, and Fourth 24 25wards now constituted both the major exceptions and the heart of the 26political representation of the Black Metropolis. Even with this perva27siveness and dominance of Republicanism, however, it is incorrect to 28assume that political influence determined the course of civil rights 29activism during the New Deal period. 30 The relationship between politicians and the Chicago NAACP, which 31pursued a program that offered no challenge to the political establish32ment or its hegemony in public affairs, differed significantly from of the 33relationships between politicians and the Chicago Urban League and 34Communist Party, which both placed their primary emphases on eco35nomic matters. The politicians of the Black Metropolis affiliated with 36the NAACP either as members or fundraisers or both. The infrequency 37of Chicago NAACP activities served to further mitigate its role as an 38activist force that could affect political life. As mandated from New York, 39branches followed a policy of non-involvement in political matters. The 40organization enunciated its position in this manner: “We don’t support 97 41candidates, we oppose those that are anti-Negro. We are watchdogs.” Yet 42the branch was the constant target of criticism despite its non-partisan the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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stance and protestations that it favored neither Democrats nor Republicans. National Field Secretary William Pickens was concerned enough to use the Chicago Defender as a forum to explain to black Chicagoans in 1932 that: The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People is not a political party organization, but like the Defender it has sometimes found it necessary to fight the enemies of our Race, even in the parties in which large numbers of our voters are enrolled. When it fights a Democrat . . . some are likely to think that the association favors Republicanism; and similarly, when it fights Republicans who are judged to have betrayed the Race the charge can be heard that the association favors Democrats. The Communists, when they felt the opposition of the association, as in the Scottsboro cases, charged that the association was capitalistic, which means both Republican and Democratic . . . [proving that] a nonpartisan position is really more difficult to maintain, and explain, than is the partisan position.98
This relationship between African American politicians and the branch was exemplified by the activities in 1930 of State Representative William E. King and Congressman Oscar DePriest. On April 27, 1930, King spoke at the Ebenezer Baptist Church at a rally opposing the Parker nomination, and he introduced Walter White at another rally that afternoon at the gigantic Oliver Baptist Church; he spoke before a mass rally in November to open the annual financial and membership drive, and he closed the fundraising drive along with State Senator Adelbert Roberts on November 23.99 DePriest corresponded frequently with Walter White on a variety of matters affecting black people, from support of a tactic used to prevent the acceptance of the credentials of Illinois Democratic Senator James Hamilton Lewis in 1930 to one that called for more equitable southern school fund apportionments.100 DePriest opened the 1930 annual drive and was present at a Scottsboro rally disrupted by the Communists in 1931. Of course, DePriest’s personal secretary, Morris Lewis, was the Chicago branch executive secretary in the twenties and held that position nominally until April 1930. The little-known politician Herbert T. Dotson was an Association member, and, with the lone Democrat among the branch’s political supporters, Assistant Attorney General Earl B. Dickerson, he offered his car to help in the 1932 annual drive.101 There were those selective occasions when the branch did involve itself in matters of a political nature. It actively opposed the nomination of Judge Parker in 1930; it attacked Mayor Thompson’s use of a float 62
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1 2offensive to black sensitivities later in the same year; it quietly involved 3itself in the selection process for mayor in the spring of 1931. Its oppo4sition to Parker enacted through use of mass pressure and unobtru5sive lobbying represented one of its crowning achievements. In 1931, 6in order to ascertain which of the contending six mayoral candidates 7would be best for the black community, the branch sent out question8naires soliciting the racial attitudes of each man. Mayor Thompson, 9Democratic candidate and soon-to-be mayor Anton Cermak, and oth10ers were asked how they stood on the issues of placing a black person Service advancement, and fair treatment in 11on the school board, Civil 102 political appointments. Those who responded favorably received the 12 branch’s endorsement in the election, which prompted an inquiry from 13 the national office as to whether or not the Chicago office was break14 103 ing the organizational policy of non-partisanism. Due to this type of 15 activity, rumors abounded that the branch was committed to other can16 The 17didates in 1931, notably to incumbent Alderman Louis B. Anderson. 104 branch quickly denied the charge, which was unfounded. 18 19 Political influence, as a negative force, overwhelmed the protest sphere 20in which the NAACP operated to such an extent in 1932 that it brought 21disaster to the branch. By the middle of the year, when the city hosted the 22conventions of the two major parties and that of the Communist Party, 23the national office was already aware that this year would be a difficult 24one in which to proceed with the Association’s tasks, especially in Chi25cago. Robert W. Bagnall wrote to Daisy Lampkin, “I don’t suppose you for prior to that I doubt that 26would get to Chicago until after the election, 105 effective work could be done there. ” In October Archie Weaver wrote 27 to William Pickens that: 28 29 30 . . . all of the active people of Chicago more or less are busy in politics. 31 Politically, colored people are more highly organized in Chicago than 32 anywhere else in the United States. It is now, and has been for some time, 33 a very difficult thing to have a complete or even good attendance of a 34 Committee meeting due to the interference of politics. Many were absent 35 from our Executive Committee meeting . . . despite the fact that they were 36 informed that our national secretary would be present. . . . [T]hey decided 106 37 that all were so busy with politics that I should meet you. . . . 38 39 During the drive which came after the national elections, it was 40revealed to William Pickens, who had replaced Mrs. Lampkin, that the 41drive was suffering due to a misperception that she, as well as the entire 42NAACP, was pro-Democratic. Certain workers who normally supported the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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the drive didn’t that year because of political grievances related to this view.107 Pickens’s correspondence to the national office showed a complete misreading of the Chicago situation due either to his being an outsider or to the influence of the elite social group with whom he associated while in the city. At this stage, rank-and-file black Chicagoans felt the most important advances for their race were to be made through politics, whether this meant racial survival through having food on their tables or ordinances protecting their civil rights. In one letter illustrative of the outsider’s view, written to Robert Bagnall, Pickens stated, It is strange how seriously colored people [in Chicago] take white people’s politics. The white people do not take their own politics so seriously: even Mr. Hoover and Mr. Roosevelt can get together after their very heated campaign is over. Colored people have a lot to learn, but I believe they will learn it. Meanwhile, we will have to pay the price of helping to give the lesson.108
In 1932, as the nation chose between Hoover and his Republican traditionalism and Roosevelt and his willingness to experiment, nothing else seemed to be as important as this political contest and the changes it could bring in the fabric of the nation. The import of the situation was summarized by Archie Weaver in the 1932 annual report: “The public’s vital interest made it impossible to secure the ordinary attention and assistance from those who otherwise are genuinely interested.”109 In electoral politics, though not in the politics of street-level direct action, black voters ignored the Communist Party just as they had the Democrats. Unlike the Democrats though, the presence of the Communist Party in the electoral process appeared to be little more than a historical footnote. This is not surprising, since the Communist Party functioned primarily as an advocacy group for revolutionary change rather than as a protest organization. In Illinois, unlike the other states of the Union, Communist Party candidates could run for office with their names listed on the ballot. Voting returns always showed the Communists as polling very small percentages of the vote during any election; however, this was due as much to traditional fraud and malfeasance at the city’s polling places as to any accurate count on actual Communist strength.110 Communist candidates ran in local and state elections from two of the three strong bases of the old Black Belt, the Third and Fourth wards. These wards, while strongholds for Republicanism in a politically changing city also “were the banner wards for the Communist Party in the entire city by [1932], with a vote which was slightly under 64
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1 2three percent of the total vote cast in the wards. In some of the precincts, of 3which were inhabited largely by Negroes, between five to six percent 111 the total votes recorded went to [the Party’s presidential ticket]. ” Yet 4 dissatisfaction with the ineffectiveness of the traditional political appa5 6ratuses could, and did, lead from the polls to the streets for a redress of 7grievances. 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 the ineffectiveness of conventional politics
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Three
Protest Activism in the Streets An Alternative to Conventional Politics
The Colored race is suffering in silence. If the white people were as bad off as they were there would be a revolution in the land. —Unidentified senior citizen, 1932
Can the Negro people use their “buying power” to refuse to buy locomotives or automobiles so as to compel the big trusts to end discrimination against the Negroes? —Herberg, Crisis, 1932
Contrary to the observation of an unidentified, and obviously uninformed, senior gentlemen during this period, when more activistminded African Americans were dissatisfied with the actions or inactions of the political, protest, community, or civic organizations, they engaged in activities that were initiated by ad hoc and special interest groups within their midst and led by unconventional leaderships. One thing they did not do: they never relinquished their quest for as full control over their lives as could be attained. If indulging in a game of chance such as policy represented one alternative to acceptance of the status quo by producing employment and generating operating capital for businesses,1 the burgeoning number of African American protests initiated by black community groups against governmental and political inaction and indifference manifested a more spectacular and ultimately influential response to economic deprivation. Three of the most dramatic street episodes in the city’s history occurred during the tense years of 1930–1932. As early summer approached in 1930, the leadership, but not the entire branch, of the Chicago NAACP supported the effort of the Chicago Whip newspaper to increase the number 66
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1 2of jobs held by black female workers through its “Don’t Spend Your 3Money Where You Can’t Work” campaign. Even earlier in 1930, the Chi4cago Urban League morphed from its traditional role of accommodat5ing reform agent into an activist protest organization. The League took 6an initial and leading role in attempting to stem the increasing rate of 7unemployment among black male laborers by negotiating with the city’s 8private transit companies to win an equitable number of jobs for blacks. 9The next year brought both a steady increase in the number of housing 10evictions and, with it, the activism of the Communist Party chapter. The 11Party focused its attention on one of the most serious ills brought on by 12the economic deprivation of the depression, that of homelessness among 13males and females. 14 15The “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work” Campaign 16 In 1930, the leadership of the Chicago Whip, which included Yale Uni17 versity graduates A. C. MacNeal and Joseph D. Bibb, along with several 18 other like-minded men, began a campaign to meet the challenge of high 19 unemployment, which came to the black community as a continuation 20 of a previously more moderate but always troublesome pattern. First, the 21 Whip worked to get the community to accept the validity of the “buy22 ing power” idea that had produced tangible results in opening up jobs 23 at businesses such as Walgreens, A&P Food Stores, and Silver Dollar 24 Foods. Then, the leadership of the Whip decided to change the modus 25 operandi pursued to make the idea, once implemented, successful on 26 a larger scale. As tactics, the Whip chose the boycott with daily picket27 ing, a propaganda and information barrage, and large public meetings. 28 This choice of confrontation, as opposed to earlier efforts at conciliation, 29 made the campaign unique. More importantly, it marked the twentieth 30 century advent of direct action into the lives of black Chicagoans and 31 their organizations. 32 Little-known activist James Hale Porter was the individual whose 33 tenacity in behalf of racial economic betterment was perhaps most 34 responsible for the campaign. Middle-aged by the time of the Great 35 Depression, experienced previously as a newspaper publisher in his own 36 commercial undertaking, and determined as a committed community 37 activist not to let any more economic injustices elude him without a pro38 test, Porter worked to convince the editor of the Chicago Whip, Joseph D. 39 Bibb, of the necessity of immediate action without delay. Bibb agreed and 40 is credited with having thought of the slogan for the campaign, “Don’t 41 Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work,” on the spur of the moment.2 42 protest activism in the streets
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The leadership also included a third person, A. C. MacNeal of the Chicago NAACP’s executive committee, who was also the managing editor of the Chicago Whip. MacNeal, who was characterized by contemporaries as aggressive, militant, and with a tendency toward irascibility, was generally more the activist than Bibb.3 A contemporary academic account also attributed the direction of the campaign to him rather than Bibb.4 With differences in personalities, Bibb and MacNeal appeared as complete opposites at times. Bibb was said to have a superb legal mind and greater self-control; he was the negotiator of the duo. MacNeal, a Chicago NAACP leader, was known as having a rhetorically volatile demeanor that made him difficult to get along with. In the protest campaigns of the period these differences would allow for an aggressive yet obviously diversified attack. Both shared similarities in social and economic orientations. The men were Yale University graduates, light-skinned enough to pass for white, and southern-born. By virtue of these traits, they were also well educated, aggressive, and articulate; socially more acceptable in both white and black worlds than most other blacks; and personally knowledgeable about racial proscription at its worst. Significantly, both shared the same commitment to bringing about an end to flagrant job discrimination. With this mental armament, Bibb, MacNeal, and Porter went about their work. The multimillion-dollar Woolworth’s Five and Ten chain was the center of controversy in the black community, and thereby gained the Whip’s attention as a campaign target. It was the only major national chain in Chicago that did not employ blacks as counter clerks in black neighborhoods. The Walgreens drug chain had pioneered fair hiring in the black community and had set a salutary pattern. Meanwhile in 1928, the newly constructed South Center Department Store located on the corner of 47th Street and South Parkway opened with an African American manager and dozens of black employees, some even to be found behind counters as clerks. Negotiations with Woolworth’s conducted earlier that year under the Whip’s auspices and with traditional tactics proved futile.5 This all occurred against a backdrop of Woolworth’s reliance on blacks for 75 percent of its trade in the Black Belt.6 Throughout 1930 the Whip would call for “proportional hiring” in light of these high trade figures at the stores located on 43rd, 47th, and 55th Streets and at the newly opened store at 51st Street.7 All stores were built in proximity to Chicago’s famed elevated transit system referred to as the “El,” which guaranteed a potentially large consumer base. 68
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1 2 The strategy devised by the Whip called for massive community sup3port of the boycott in order to force the capitulation of an economic 4giant—a victory which it was thought would bring even more of the 5community’s white-owned companies into line with black thinking and 6the community’s needs in employment. The boycott would end only 7when the company met the Whip’s demands. The leaders of the cam8paign depended on the high level of racial consciousness and solidarity 9among blacks to generate support for the boycott. They also felt that the 10political and civic organizations of the Black Metropolis would lend sup11port due to the tendency of black politicians, the Urban League, and the 12NAACP to support petit bourgeois activities that aided racial advance13ment. Perhaps the element that Oliver Cromwell Cox described as being 14essential to their campaign, timing, was the most significant. Taking economic depression, he assessed the 15place as it did in the midst of an 8 campaign as “especially timely. ” 16 17 The tactics involved employing a one-man picket who would parade 18daily during the course of the work week at the Woolworth’s stores. This 19picket would march silently with a wooden sign covering his body and 20would carefully eschew any behavior that could be interpreted as bellig21erent. Any use of violence could produce a disorderly climate, something 22advantageous to company officials who wished to find legal grounds 23upon which to justify a court injunction being issued. The leaders of9 24the campaign, in fact, only employed picketing as a tactic of last resort. 25The other methods utilized were community meetings at churches and 26public halls, street-corner lectures dealing with the merits of the cam27paign, signs proclaiming the public’s acceptance of the need to have a 28united racial front for eventual job success, and, late in the campaign, 29a car filled with loudspeakers soliciting support. Throughout the cam30paign, the Whip devoted weekly front-page descriptions of the boycott 31in a column that MacNeal wrote under his pseudonym of Harry Hull. to contribute coverage to the 32Other black newspapers were approached 10 33campaign but only one, The World, did. Since the Whip would gain as 34much in a financial sense as it would in terms of its claim to serving the 35Race, the Defender and Bee remained basically silent on the issue, pre36sumably out of a sense of competition. 37 The actual picketing began on Monday, June 7, 1930, at the 43rd and 3847th Street stores. In time it was extended to include the 55th Street store, 39which had a substantial although not a predominantly black clientele. 40The Whip reported that “pickets [were] peacefully parad[ing] in our 41midst . . . grimly, mutely, but with determination, wearing flaring signs 42on their backs, advising the citizens and customers that this store was protest activism in the streets
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‘unfair to colored labor.’”11 The length of the picketing extended for seventeen weeks without interruption, a sign of determination to a curious black community. One of the earliest pickets was a former pugilist, “Big Bill” Tate, who paraded out of a deep sense of commitment and without remuneration. Other pickets were paid small sums for their daily vigils. Early financing of the pickets came from the Whip; from Bibb’s personal funds; from churches, including Reverend Junius C. Austin of Pilgrim Baptist Church12; and from public meetings.13 By the fourth week the bulk of the expense was assumed by Dr. Herbert Turner, president of the Chicago NAACP. At this point “he began more systematically to solicit contributions from black business and professional people.”14 As paymaster for the campaign he would have to raise about $1,400; it was a substantial sum in the midst of the depression, but he completed the task successfully. Turner’s personal involvement and that of the branch was consistent with his commitment to protest and the new outlook of the branch after Dr. Charles E. Bentley’s relinquishment of his conservative clique’s control, which had defined the organization in the twenties. With Turner heading a financially independent organization, the Chicago NAACP engaged in any activity it desired without fear of financial reprisals such as the Urban League faced from its white business supporters. The prospect of tackling a company as large as the Woolworth’s chain frightened many people in the black community, much as the campaign by the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters against the Pullman Company several years earlier had. Perhaps just as important was the response of the smaller white merchants who were unimpressed with the possible chances of the Whip being successful. At first, the smaller merchants had a tendency to look upon the confrontation as laughable.15 But as the picketing continued and the campaign gained support, many of the smaller merchants of the community were sufficiently persuaded of its efficacy to sign a petition circulated by the Chicago NAACP pleading with Woolworth’s to concede. These 162 signatories advised the Woolworth’s national office that a substantial amount of money was being lost and that it would be in its best interests to meet the community’s demands for increased black employment.16 Woolworth’s did arrange for a conference in August 1930, with selected, conservative black community leaders to push its side of the question, that is, its statement that it would consider hiring blacks if the picketing and the boycott were stopped first. However, the inflexibility shown by the company on the issue of the boycott only served to aggravate the feelings of this cautious group of citizens and the community it 70
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1 17 2was supposed to convert to its way of thinking. In addition to the media 3coverage in the Whip, the articulate but acerbic MacNeal spoke to vari4ous groups throughout the city in an attempt to gain sympathy for the 5campaign. His entrée was arranged by A. L. Foster and the members of 6the board of the Chicago Urban League, who also invited him to speak 7at their vocational opportunity campaign in April on “the development 18 8of the campaign to force new opportunities of work in our district.” 9 Ordinarily, both the League and the NAACP were similar organiza10tionally in the sense that they eschewed a direct action approach in their 11own activities. However, in this instance and in the midst of the economic 12crisis, they sympathized with the Whip’s campaign. One important dif13ference between the two was that the League’s role found it much more 14wary of gaining adverse public attention and losing donors than the now 15financially independent Chicago NAACP. Correspondence written con16fidentially as early as 1929 between the executive secretary, A. L. Foster, to the 17and the Whip leadership gave the League’s wholehearted support 19 campaign and pledged cooperation insofar as it was “possible. ” In the 18 one area where openness was possible, the League’s facilities and services 19 20at the Free Employment Bureau were available to place job seekers in the 21jobs that the Whip’s campaign opened up. Perhaps the best indicator as 22to how far individual board members would commit themselves was Dr. 23George Cleveland Hall. This leading physician was usually thought of as 24conservative by certain elite elements of the community because of his his 25close personal identification with the late Booker T. Washington and 20 tendency to move cautiously, yet he gave money to the campaign. 26 27 Among the local politicians, Congressman Oscar DePriest gave both 28moral and financial support. In December 1929 he put his support in21 29writing, and in 1930 he contributed both financial and moral support. 30This was the kind of issue upon which DePriest feasted—the racial angle 31allowed him to tackle the type of racial foe he had despised since his 32early childhood days in Alabama. In addition, the acknowledgment he 33gave to a community campaign in behalf of the little people no doubt 34only served to enhance his image as a racial champion whenever he 35sought reelection to office. In addition, DePriest had a personal affin36ity with Bibb, having unsuccessfully recommended him for the seat held Library Board and hav37by an African American on the Chicago Public 22 ing dealt with him professionally for years. Aldermen Louis B. Ander38 son and Robert Jackson were probably sympathetic but did not indulge 39 in open displays of support. As components of the dominant political 40 41machine, they were aware of the dangers of jeopardizing their stance in 42a structure that acted as a “broker for business.” protest activism in the streets
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As the campaign continued, the Whip claimed that the Woolworth’s stores were experiencing a 70–90 percent decline in their trade as a result of the boycott and picketing.23 In its pages it claimed that the company’s national monthly earnings were down for the period June 1930, compared to June 1929, in the amount of $2 million, with $70,000 lost in Chicago as a result of five weeks of picketing.24 A report on the effect of the boycott a week later indicated a cumulative loss of $90,000 and another report two weeks thereafter showed the level had reached $100,000.25 By its edition of August 16, ten weeks after the boycott had begun, the Whip claimed that business at the three South Side stores was at a standstill.26 Whatever total actual losses were in dollar amounts to the company, they had to be significant. In addition, another major problem seemed to be mounting for Woolworth’s with the planned opening of a new store in September on 51st Street, for it would also be a target of the boycott. The company was aided in its recalcitrant stance by its enormous reputation and financial strength, by the importance of its service and wares in the community at the five-and-dime level, and by a fear some citizens had that the Whip’s tactics would soon produce a backlash manifested in job losses. According to Joseph D. Bibb’s widow, this fear prompted a group of three respected and influential black community spokespersons to dissociate themselves and the particular element of the community that they represented from the segment that supported the Whip’s militant campaign. Their ranks included a churchman and a female educator.27 The former was probably Reverend Harold Kingsley and the third person was possibly Major A. E. Patterson, a member of the prestigious, elite Appomattox Club, and supporter of the rising Democratic Party. In September 1930, the Defender printed the second of only two references to the campaign during the course of its duration. This was a letter given important page-three treatment and written by Major Patterson. The major challenged the efficacy of the job campaign, which had then completed three months of what he saw as futile picketing. Furthermore, he dissociated himself from the Woolworth’s company and explained his concern on the basis that possible job reprisals might result in additional job losses while the community was in the midst of a severe depression. He cautioned readers that there already was talk of a reverse “Don’t Spend Your Money” campaign by white employers.28 Interestingly, Mrs. Bibb later stated that the Woolworth official to whom they spoke, while impressed with the credentials and obviously with the views of Major Patterson and his colleagues, nonetheless confided to Mr. Bibb in a conversation that he was surprised that they took their position in light of the legitimacy of the Whip’s demands.29 72
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1 2 The tens of thousands of ordinary black folk who resided in the Black 3Belt could by no means be called supportive of the campaign in toto. 4While Cox has claimed that the campaign had community support, other 5writers, both30contemporary and since, have maintained that the support 6was limited. Two factors help illustrate the extent of possible mass sup7port in any given case: the physical presence of large numbers of support8ive persons on the streets; and the patronage they might have withheld. 9Neither in itself could be said to be conclusive. Yet, these were the days 10when large assemblages were unheard of and when they developed as 11they did in Washington Park, involving hundreds of persons, they were 12considered novel. A dozen spectators in support of this cause outside of 13Woolworth’s was a large number for 1930. Some blacks in the vicinity of 14the stores still shopped there despite verbal abuse from the persons who 15were standing nearby and giving support to the pickets. In some cases 16there were physical assaults, just short of fisticuffs, on shoppers. Package 17snatching and jostling occurred, as well as one incident31 that involved one 18black patron having her clothes splotched with starch. 19 Blacks who shopped in the stores were denounced on street corners 20in the most caustic of terms. They were called everything from descen21dants of supporters of32 the Old Confederacy to “misguided modern-day 22traitors to their race” In Chicago of the Depression decade, the label of 23“Uncle Tom” or race traitor was one of the most vilifying stigmas possi24ble. At no time during the course of the campaign, however, and despite 25the hostility that was generated, did anything nearing organized and 26sanctioned riotous behavior occur. In fact, it seems as though a sizeable 27portion of the citizenry appeared to be indifferent to the campaign. 28 From the left, the Communist Party denounced the campaign as 29being a petit bourgeois hoax and, most damning of all, impractical as a the employment problem of the black community. One party 30solution to 33 spokesman wrote thus in the Crisis so that blacks could fully appreciate 31 the party’s position: 32 33 34 Can the Negro people use their “buying power” to refuse to buy locomo35 tives or automobiles so as to compel the big trusts to end discrimination 36 against the Negroes? Or shall the Negro people refuse to buy meat or coal 37 to the same end? There is no substance to the “use our buying power” 38 proposa1: it can only be raised by those whose social vision is bounded by 39 petty industry and petty trade, who see everything not from the viewpoint 40 of the Negro workers [the great mass of the Negro people], but rather 34 41 from that of the Negro small business man. 42 protest activism in the streets
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During at least one public meeting called in support of the Woolworth’s campaign, the Communists distributed handbills which disturbed the Whip leaders because they feared, even though the party was being critical of the job campaign, that a perceived association with the Communists would hurt their cause.35 At the beginning of October 1930, the Woolworth Company capitulated. As the month commenced, five African American females were on the job helping with the final preparations before the grand opening at the newly built 51st Street store. On Saturday, October 4, twenty-one black workers were behind the counters working with their white counterparts as Woolworth’s employees. The next week, pickets were withdrawn from all stores as the Whip and Woolworth’s concluded an agreement on hiring. Significantly, the victory was the type that racial rhetoricians in the black community expounded on to exaggerated heights. Woolworth’s, a community and national giant, had indeed started to hire blacks and had in fact proven the feasibility of the use of the boycott with picketing. However, during the campaign the Whip had written of proportional hiring as a realistic possibility, “and—in fact—there were never hiring levels reached that matched the 75 per cent figure that blacks represented in trade at the 43rd and 51st Street stores. By the end of 1931 . . . they [blacks] constituted [only] about 25% of all the clerks employed in the establishments involved.”36 As conditions worsened without any appreciable increase in the numbers of blacks hired, the analysis of the Communist Party seemed increasingly correct. What the campaign had accomplished on a positive level was to unite the churches and other voluntary groups, the black Republican political leadership, and the two most prominent civic organizations of the black South Side. Even though the politicians and the Chicago Urban League could offer their support only covertly, the community would have been aware of it given the absence of any statement or position taken to the contrary. As was the case throughout the black community, news of involvement and non-involvement on the part of its leaders got around quite effectively.37 The national NAACP, which had a policy that took a rather aloof position on street demonstrations that involved the boycott and the picket, did not get involved.38 On the other hand, the Chicago branch did. Because of its programmatic and financial independence— which Turner so proudly touted—it could act within the bounds of its own discretionary interest. As a matter of fact, it had the most important role out of all the protest and race advancement organizations. If politicians other than DePriest got involved it was probably just as much a testimony to their commitment to overall racial advancement as 74
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1 2to their political acumen and opportunism. Harold Gosnell has shown 3that during the early Depression black voting went not along economic didn’t really have to per4lines, or over economic issues, so politicians 39 5form to any degree of effectiveness. Since the job campaign had racial 6overtones, it carried an element that could be of interest to black people 7on both individual and racial levels. The Urban League’s role during the 8campaign was the subject of varying interpretations by contemporaries. 9Ralph J. Bunche credited the League with making a major contribution Woolworth’s that the picketing would not end until 10by negotiating with 40 hiring had begun. This would imply an overt role. And the League did 11 provide an office and facilities to the Whip’s staff; moreover, there were 12 13individual contributions from certain board members. The League’s even reported favorably on the 14national monthly organ, Opportunity, 41 Whip’s activities in its May issue. Five years after the campaign had 15 ended, A. L. Foster, the Chicago Urban League’s secretary, claimed that 16 42 17the Whip’s campaign had had the endorsement of the League. How18ever, Cox found a League presence that was mostly covert even if highly 19sympathetic. When Foster wrote to the Whip during the campaign about service it was providing, he did so in 20how much of a needed community 43 21the strictest confidentiality. Upon reflection, it is obvious that because 22of the League’s ties to the corporate structure and its reliance on con23servative funding sources, its role in a campaign using coercive tactics 24would have had to be limited. 25 The Defender, the city’s black news leader, while not openly hostile 26or vitriolic in its opposition to the Whip and its campaign, nonetheless 27managed to avoid all signs of even a sympathetic attitude. The Defender 28had supported the buying power idea as early as 1914, and after it was 29more widely adopted and refined in 1929 and 1930 it continued to sup30port it until its demise years later. However, the paper never formulated 31a plan to implement the idea. Justin DeLemos, a militant community 32spokesman and agitator for economic opportunity in the outdoor forum 33of Washington Park that was located on the outskirts of the black com34munity, articulated the Defender’s failing in a 1etter to the newspaper 35in May 1930 in the “What The People Say” column. He stated, “There 36are in your platform [for racial advancement] planks for the salvation 37of Negroes, toward the achievement of which you do nothing but bla38tantly reiterate the need for them,44accentuating an already discordant 39note without suggesting a remedy.” 40 In addition, on at least two occasions the Defender printed items 41detrimental to the campaign. Once it chided the Whip for assailing the 42Woolworth Company when the black economic position was too weak protest activism in the streets
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to sustain such an assault.45 Later, it printed the letter of Major Patterson which called the campaign misguided and dangerous to blacks already holding jobs. One former Whip employee believed that the Defender’s reluctance to carry news of the Whip’s campaign was due to competitive financial reasons and not to any ideological differences such as exemplified in a preference for the gradualist approach to attaining goals.46 In fact, as if underscoring this latter view and belying Cox’s position that there was a contention between the two papers, the Whip took out a quarter-page ad of congratulations in the Defender’s 25th anniversary issue in 1930.47 In summary, the significance of the activities of the Chicago Whip was most evident in the light of its ability to refine the buying power argument to a level where an appeal could be made for popular support; to implement the idea through a new channel, that of direct action in the streets; and, perhaps most importantly, to actually place black workers in a new and upgraded work setting. In the Black Metropolis, “even if only one Negro face could be seen in the store as an active employee, the issue was partly met—the Negro race had in this one person participation and representation.”48 After the Woolworth campaign, the Whip quit the field of direct protest built around the buying power idea, partially due to the financial expense involved. When it did, others were ready to pick up the mantle of leadership. In June 1931, the Negro Employees’ Improvement Association was formed with thirty-five charter members, all of working-class status.49 Its program was essentially the same as that of the Whip, but the support of the elite leadership of the Black Metropolis was missing.50 A boycott against the Walter Powers Restaurant chain was initiated but was short-lived because an injunction was issued against the Association. As a result, its quick demise followed. The buying power idea and its implementation were not enough to bring success: timing; elite and community support, even if selective; and favorable circumstances were all important elements needed to achieve any victory. Just as the Whip’s campaign was winding down as the result of an anticipated victory over the Woolworth’s Company, the Street Car Riots began. Also related to the issue of unemployment, these episodes generated a higher level of activism in the streets than the Woolworth’s issue. The target upon which a large segment of the Black Belt’s population now focused its attention in September 1930 was that of employment in the city’s transportation system.
76
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1 2The Street Car Riots 3 4The closest the city came to outright class conflict occurred with the lit5tle-publicized “Street Car Riots” that occurred in the autumn of 1930 6and the spring of 1931. Black men directly confronted the captains of 7transportation in a bid to secure work in both white and black neighbor8hoods. These men, or their counterparts, had worked for Chicago’s vari9ous transportation companies as outdoor laborers in the early twentieth 10century but had been excluded from those positions since the end of 11World War I. The city government, meanwhile, in the interval between 12the war and the Depression hired approximately 1,200 black men for the pattern of providing opportu13street work every summer, continuing 51 nities for outdoor manual laborers. 14 15 The negative impact of the depression resulted in a reduction in the 16size of the city’s work force and simultaneously a greater reliance on the 17part of blacks for those jobs as a means of reducing their unemployment. 18In seeking a solution to the increasing level of economic deprivation, the 19Chicago Defender and the Chicago Whip, along with the Chicago Urban 20League, were now molding popular opinion in expectation of some sort 21of political solution to help ease the economic depression. They saw a 22possible connection between the passage of a traction bill that called for 23the expansion of the city’s transportation network and the problem of 24unemployment. The bill’s passage would serve two purposes: the public for all Chicagoans, 25and private sectors would improve intra-city travel 52 and new jobs would be created at the same time. 26 27 Applying a broader strategy to meet the needs of the times, the Chi28cago Defender called for the black population to exert pressure through 29their ballots to serve notice that they wanted consideration in employ30ment on the upcoming work projects. The newspapers emphasized the 31fact that blacks were also taxpayers who paid for services in the city and 32should be in a position to benefit from meeting their civic responsibili33ties. The Defender in particular stated that “in other cities . . . we find 34black conductors, motormen and repairmen. Why not the same in Chito demand recogni35cago? [With political pressure we are] in a position 53 tion from this big [transportation] corporation. ” 36 37 In May, two months before the traction vote, the Chicago Urban company in an effort to secure jobs on 38League approached the traction 54 a non-discriminatory basis. The League’s demands, however, reflected 39 its programs and tactics and were not as extensive as the Defender’s were 40 41in print. At the negotiating table, League representatives acted with 42their customary deliberateness in light of what they perceived to be the protest activism in the streets
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realism of the day. As a result, they asked only for jobs at the lower rungs of the employment ladder. They were rebuffed by the transit company, whose response was that interracial tension could lead to possible rioting if blacks were hired even in the capacity of laborers.55 The influence of the League in this matter appeared to have ended at this point with its inability to bring about an amicable, fair, and meaningful settlement. A citywide referendum on the transit issue was held on July 1, and the voters in the city overwhelmingly supported it by more than a five-toone margin. In the three South Side black wards the total of the votes was 26,253 in favor to 1,642 opposed.56 This vote was another testimony to the ability of the black politicians to deliver their group’s vote as a powerful bloc, and to that group’s tendency to assume that their future was tied into the Republican Party’s belief in the corporate world’s potential to solve the nation’s economic crisis. Some blacks obviously saw the connection between a political act and the economic benefits to be accrued from it, and it is possible that they were in the majority. The highly political nature of the project meant that the black politicians in the City Council, Anderson and Jackson, would have been active in behalf of their constituents. Jackson was, in fact, a member of the council’s local transportation committee that had the responsibility of acting as a watchdog over the city’s transportation network. Their past laxity in performing their responsibilities escaped neither unnoticed nor unmentioned. This current failure to act in behalf of their constituents raised the ire of the Defender’s leadership immediately before the referendum in July and the Whip’s leadership later in the year.57 Congressman Oscar DePriest, who did not have a direct connection with the referendum, had nonetheless shown his interest in the problems of black labor in the city. He had made regular appearances at various labor conferences earlier in the year, but he avoided making public statements that showed he recognized the relationship between unemployment and any other factor other than that of immigration. The Defender criticized the aldermen, asking why they hadn’t spoken up, and concluded that they had failed to see the issue as a possible lever to decrease joblessness and to win future employment guarantees. In the fall of the year, the Whip suggested that the November election results should reflect the people’s feeling about the black politicians’ failure to use politics as it, a newspaper, had used the picket and boycott as tools to secure jobs for blacks. The Whip challenged, “What has been done in the commercial and business world can be done in the field of politics.”58 And it warned that any black politician who faltered further in this effort could expect punishment at the polls. 78
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1 2 The black men of the South Side, especially those unemployed, eagerly 3anticipated the beginning of the traction work in September. The first 4phase of the work was to begin on the surface line extension on Sep5tember 8, with the 51st Street line being advanced beyond South Park 6heading eastward to Cottage Grove Avenue, a one-half mile distance. 7To the disappointment of the unemployed blacks, all the workers on 8the site were white and presumably unionized. The latter qualification, 9exclusively reserved for whites, was used to stymie black efforts to gain 10employment whenever the factor of race was not introduced directly. 11 The political initiative at the time was seized by one local politician Cronson, the white alderman of the heavily 12of the Black Belt, Berthold 59 13black Fourth Ward. Cronson, the nephew of the politically influential 14city’s corporation counsel, Samuel Ettleson, was also a friend of Joseph 15D. Bibb of the Whip. He held his office as the result of deals arranged 16with the black political machine leaders to the north in the Second and 17Third60Wards, who did not run black candidates against him at election with the Chicago Sur18time. He moved immediately to establish contact 61 face Lines company in an effort to secure jobs. 19 20 Meanwhile, in the confines of Washington Park, almost a square-mile 21expanse of verdant recreational space, black men were meeting daily in 22the northwest quadrant to discuss and complain about the high rate of 23unemployment brought on by the depression. At an open-air site desig24nated the “Forum,” the more vociferous spokesmen of both the nation25alistic and Communistic persuasions exhorted the assemblage to action. 26These ad hoc leaders were residents of the failed Black Metropolis them27selves and therefore were recognized as legitimate racial spokesmen. One 28such man was William T. Soders, a Chicagoan with a reputation for fight29ing for black rights. He believed that the system could be reformed and 30would be if blacks exerted enough pressure on their own behalf. As 62a 31result, Soders “stressed political justice and the buying power theme.” 32Another leader was Justin DeLemos, a prominent agitator for employment 33rights for blacks who was willing to use force if necessary to secure those and was 34rights. He had been a labor organizer in the Panama Canal Zone 63 considered by the Tribune to be a committed Communist. Then there 35 was young Claude Lightfoot, who was beginning to lean to the left after 36 but their willing37being inspired by not only the Communists’ rhetoric 64 ness to sacrifice their bodies for the dispossessed. The Whip also began 38 to agitate for black job rights, linking the October election results to the 39 65 transportation project in the black community. In this campaign, as in 40 the one against Woolworth’s, A. C. MacNeal of the Whip and the Chicago 41 NAACP became active in behalf of the working men of the South Side.66 42 protest activism in the streets
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The corporation counsel’s office also became involved but was stymied in its efforts because all the traction workers were required to be union members. Since the tracklayers union excluded blacks from membership and the contract signed with the Surface Lines recognized only union workers, blacks were caught between two forces, both equally hostile. This situation seemed all too familiar to black organized labor, for the same discriminatory practice was encountered throughout the early twentieth century. For its part, the Chicago Defender published a letter from Robert L. Mayes, an influential local black labor leader and chairman of the Efficiency Committee of the Railway and Hotel Workers Association, which listed the several points involved in this issued deemed essential to black economic survival. It was addressed to Alderman Oscar F. Nelson, who held the vice chair’s position in the Chicago Federation of Labor, along with membership on the City Council’s Traction Committee. They were the fulfillment of a quid pro quo arrangement that partially prompted the heavy black support for the referendum. Also, they threatened possible black political retaliation if blacks were not hired. Lastly, they assailed the racist union policies that discriminated against black participation in both the union and any and all work activities.67 On September 16, hundreds of black men, angry over the lack of success in securing jobs by the Chicago Urban League, the Whip, and the Defender, marched a short distance from the park to the 51st Street and South Parkway worksite. There, encouraged by agitation and previous strategy sessions held in the park under leaders like Soders and DeLemos, they took the tools from the hands of the Italian-born and Italianspeaking laborers. The white workers wisely withdrew from the street to the safety of the 51st Street sidewalks. With this retreat of only ten or twenty feet, the potential for a full-scale riot that could have surpassed the mayhem of 1919 was decreased somewhat. The depression had touched thousands directly and the hundreds in the park had made their choice to engage in direct action themselves instead of abiding with the inaction of government, business, and protest organizations. Their militant actions had the support of many members of the black elite, who viewed the situation through the same racial prism as the workers did.68 Perhaps this was the case because these men were seen as pursuing a right in seizing employment opportunities that existed in the heart of their racially proscribed enclave. The police, the politicians, the leaders of the black press, and the leading civic organizations all became involved. The police responded immediately to avert violence and used extreme restraint in dealing with the unemployed blacks. 80
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1 2Congressman Oscar DePriest arrived on the scene almost immediately, 3indicating that he was aware of both the mood and plans of demonto employ 4strators. In addressing the crowd, he advised them ostensibly 69 5peaceful instead of violent means to achieve their ends and cautioned were not given jobs there would be further friction 6whites that if blacks 70 and perhaps riots. 7 8 What the meaning of DePriest’s message was, given his reputation for 9bombast, rhetorical belligerence, and racial confrontation, is a worthy 10subject for speculation. He no doubt spoke of pacifism tongue-in-cheek, 11seeking to ascertain what this challenge to white business (and its for12eign workers) could produce. In this instance the incident ended peace13fully with a spokesman for the transit company promising jobs for some 14of the black men. Additional political involvement found Aldermen 15Anderson, Jackson, and Cronson intensifying their activities in behalf 16of bringing a fuller solution to this problem regardless of racial or union 17affiliation. Harold Gosnell maintained, however, that ward-level leaderof the effort only after it had already been proven 18ship was supportive 71 successful. 19 20 Support also came from other institutions and organizations. The in a leadership 21Whip’s MacNeal had been on the scene at the beginning 72 capacity and also brought his paper’s backing. The Defender gave its 22 73 support in its very next edition. Members of both the Chicago NAACP 23 in a cam24and the Urban League gave their open, sympathetic support 74 25paign involving reform in public policy and public works. The Com26munist Party’s role in the incident was subject to debate. The best, albeit 27the only, contemporary academic chronicler and analyst of the episode, 28sociologist Oliver Cromwell Cox, reported that the persons involved in 29the leadership, the assemblage that followed them, and the mass attitude 30that pervaded was one that could be characterized as “capitalistic.” It is 31true that there were Communist and pseudo-Communist orators in the 32park, quite possibly from the Unemployed Councils (a special interest 33group sponsored by the Party), but the issue that appealed to these dem75 34onstrators was racial and territorial, and only selectively economic. 35 Repeated testimony recorded in 1972 and previous years from Mr. 36Jesse “Pops” Helton, a nonagenarian who had been a participant and 37leader during this period, confirmed that he and his group, or “bunch,” 38saw the issue of employment in terms of personal and racial survival as a stage in class conflict between the forces of 39rather than doctrinally 76 capital and labor. For years the author had heard Mr. Helton describe 40 his role in the eviction disturbances of the early Depression, but it was not 41 until 1972 that he discussed the subject in-depth for scholarly purposes. 42 protest activism in the streets
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Mr. Helton also reported that, much to his chagrin, in the late fifties and sixties the working men who patronized the barber shop he frequented refused to follow his plea to act militantly to correct the many socia1 ills that abounded in the city. In the thirties, on the other hand, when persons more radical than Helton approached him to join the Communist Party, they failed to convince him and his “bunch” to harness their activities in line with the Party’s doctrinal teachings. This certainly seems a piece of historical irony. It is no odder, though, than the fact that many of the black workers in 1930 saw their enemy at 51st Street as primarily a group of foreign-born white men who held the jobs they sought and not as the ownership and management of the Surface Lines company. In regard to the identifiable leadership, MacNeal and Soders were described as establishmentarians who sought only to transform the American system through reform. Soders was of course more militant and dedicated to change than described. DeLemos had already been labeled by the Chicago Tribune as a revolutionary influenced by Communist doctrine. However, none of the three Chicago newspapers that reported the incident mentioned in their accounts anything unusual in an ideological or political sense about the conflict except that it portended possible danger to labor and racial tranquility in the city.77 Not to be overlooked was historical evidence of the constant influence of militant, revitalizing, racial rhetoric that had both built the ideological base for the emergence of the Black Metropolis in the previous decade and sustained it through the most dismal days of the Depression years.78 The discussions that immediately ensued on the streets resulted in some men being hired and the restoration of temporary calm. However, the 51st Street site was not the only one where extension work produced labor conflict. One month later, due to the small number of blacks who had secured work, William T. Soders led two hundred black men to 52nd and State Streets (one-half mile west of the 51st Street fracas) to demand jobs for the black men who accompanied him. The white men employed at this site were also described as being foreigners. The appearance of Soders’s group forced a halt to the work while a company official was called. After his arrival, the official tried to ignore Soders’s presence, as he had done on previous occasions. But the reality of the situation dictated that he address the group, which he finally did. He then acceded to the group’s demands as presented by Soders and promised to provide jobs immediately.79 Soders then decided to move his protest force to 55th and Halsted Streets, outside the black community, where instead of the transit company the South Park Commissioners, a governmental body, was having 82
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1 2pavement work done. Then, a march was also planned to 31st Street and 3South Park, which was another Black Metropolis location. Underscor4ing the severity of the employment problem and deviating from their 5demands for work in their own community based on race, blacks planned 6and made additional marches to sites in all-white neighborhoods at 75th 7Street and Western Avenue, 79th80 Street and Damen Avenue, and 87th 8Street and Stony Island Avenue. Conceptually, the needs of the black 9workers had moved beyond demanding proportional employment in 10their own community to equitable hiring throughout the entirety of the 11South Side, even in white areas. 12 The disturbances, which had nearly brought about riots, had as a goal 13the securing of jobs needed by black unskilled workers. In this there was 14some success, although the actual number of jobs obtained was81 small. 15At the 51st Street site there were twenty-five men hired outright. At the 1652nd Street site ten men82were hired immediately and a promise was made 17of fifty additional jobs. Cox estimated that not more than one hundred 18black laborers out of the thousands who wanted work were hired in 1930. 50 colored 19In fact, by 1932, it was reported that “there were only about 83 men working three days a week part-time for the lines. ” 20 21 The significance of this particular direct action campaign has to be 22seen not only in the number of jobs secured, which was small, but also 23in the acceptance and use of direct action by the black populace within 24and outside the confines of the old Black Belt. Also, these assemblages 25were led by a new type of leader who did not come from the ranks of 26the elite black leadership as exemplified by the Chicago Urban League 27and the Chicago NAACP. Lastly, the disturbances led the two black news 28giants to envision a solution to the problem of unemployment as being 29possible through political means but with new emphases. In doing so, 30they called into question the effectiveness of the current political leader31ship in a time of crisis. The politicians’ use of racial rhetoric and nothing 32more as a cure to the Black Metropolis’s economic problems was falling 33into disrepute as the citizens of the black community began to view tac34tics involving economic pressure and mass assemblages as more useful 35weapons in their lives. 36 37Housing Strife 38 Importantly, most of the neighborhoods making up the greater South 39 Side black community that had become the vaunted, economically pros40 perous Black Metropolis were now in the process of reverting back to 41 their previous economic phase of being the deprived Black Belt. An 42 protest activism in the streets
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inability to pay for housing led to massive vacancies and a housing glut, and homelessness for thousands of Chicago’s citizens. On the South Side, this meant daily evictions by the sheriff ’s bailiffs and the Chicago police, who accompanied them for protection against an indignant populace. The street episodes that took place in rapid succession in 1931 presented the most poignant illustration of what the Great Depression produced in terms of human suffering, political inaction, and community involvement. These problems culminated in an episode that occurred inside the southwestern fringe of the Black Metropolis in August, 1931. This masssupported riot was the first of its kind involving blacks to occur in the Black Metropolis. It was directed against political and police authority and resulted in the loss of three lives. The event became a cause célèbre of the early Depression, not only throughout Chicago, but also nationally. The most dramatic change that it brought came in the transformation in attitudes that the politicians held about what type of response was needed to alleviate the problems of the time. In its wake, the use of public funds for relief demonstrated a new political recognition of the need to act against the sufferings brought on by the Great Depression.84 The focal point of the issue was housing evictions, which were occurring at an ever-increasing rate and in direct proportion to the level of economic deprivation of the period. The real issue was the economic dislocation caused by the Great Depression and the failure of leadership, especially governmental leadership, to solve it. While the problem of evictions was not new, the politicians had sensed the need to do something about it in its suddenly burgeoning form as early as 1930. Mayor Thompson had directed the City Council to establish a committee to investigate the extent to which evictions were adding to the miseries of Chicagoans during the early Depression.85 The committee’s existence, although timely and necessary, did not produce any resultant positive action. However, the inactivity on the part of politicians was not as detrimental to the black community as the alleged inhumane actions of black politicians, most notably avaricious landlords such as DePriest, in evicting non-paying tenants from their apartments.86 The hostility generated in this milieu, coupled with a vacuum of leadership, presented a tempting target to the Communists, who were able to exploit this issue to meet their organizational aims. One of the Communist Party’s responses to the issue of eviction in 1931 was to plan a citywide moratorium on the payment of rents.87 As the Communists and their sympathizers discussed and organized this issue, tensions heightened in the black community. Black men, women, and children of all ages took to the streets, most often on their own initiative 84
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1 blessings, to prevent the court-authorized 2and without the Communists’ 88 evictions from proceeding. The irony of this period was that the Com3 munist Party, in its effort to approach the problems of the depression 4 5in some organized fashion and in accordance with the Marxist-Leninist 6doctrine that eschewed the use of undirected violence, acted as a nega7tive force on protest against the system rather than a dynamic force of 8change. This was the case because of its insistence on avoiding unneces89 9sary, provocative, and violent confrontations with the authorities. 10 Significantly, during the third quarter of the year, confrontations 11between black demonstrators and the police, bailiffs, and real estate agents 12grew more numerous in the streets in front of houses where evictions were called “Reds,” “Black 13to take place. The demonstrators were popularly 90 Bugs, ” “Communists, ” and “Black Reds” irrespective of their actual 14 beliefs. Some were, in fact, members of Communist-affiliated groups such 15 as the Unemployed Councils and the Scottsboro Defense League but oth16 17ers had no particular left-of-center affiliations at all, being active Republi-91 18cans, Democrats, and members of the Black Metropolis’s fraternal orders. two men were found to be 19In one case involving arrested demonstrators, 92 members of the 8th Infantry Regiment. Women participated as well. 20 During one episode, Horace R. Cayton observed an older black woman 21 assume a leadership role when the presence of police blocking one march 22 seemed to defuse the energy of the crowd proceeding to an eviction site. 23 She mounted a soapbox to speak and impressed Cayton deeply. 24 25 26 I [was] familiar with the harangue of the “soapboxer”—but this was dif27 ferent. This woman was not talking about any economic principles; she 28 was not talking about any empty theories, nor was she concerned with any 29 abstract Utopia to be gained by the movement of the ‘lower classes.’ She 30 was talking about bread, and jobs, and places to sleep in. It was the talk of 31 a person who had awakened from a pleasant dream to find that reality was 93 32 hard, cold, and cruel. 33 34One of the more serious standoffs that preceded the fatal riot of August 353, 1931 occurred during the latter part of July. A crowd of over 2,500 per36sons gathered outside 3638 South Wabash Avenue down the street from 37the Wabash YMCA and demanded that the possessions of a Mrs. Lethia 38Jones be returned to her vacated apartment. Police were called in to help 39the bailiffs and over twenty squads responded in a thirty-minute period. 40Delicate negotiations went on that included a black Republican, Assis41tant States Attorney Christopher C. Wimbish. This official calmed the 42crowd by announcing that the evicted woman was going to remain in protest activism in the streets
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her apartment. But unknown to them, Wimbish had quietly taken a collection from the policemen that amounted to $25, which was paid to the landlady. In other incidents, calm was more difficult to restore. It was said that the “Reds” were becoming adamant in their attitudes and were ready to resort to violence if pressed by the police.94 During this tumultuous week police expressed fears that the situation might become riotous and the South Side might be engulfed in turmoil such as that which occurred during the race riot of 1919 that left thirty-eight persons dead.95 Police were especially careful not to antagonize the throngs that appeared on the corners and the parks of the South Side lest they provoke the large assemblages into violent confrontation. The Defender described the atmosphere as one in which trouble could quickly ignite, awaiting only a spark to set off violence.96 That spark came on Monday, August 3, when a real estate agent accompanied by two sheriff ’s bailiffs and two uniformed policemen attempted to evict a 72-year-old widow from her flat at 5016 South Dearborn Avenue. An estimated crowd of over 5,000 concerned and agitated persons gathered after having been urged on to the scene from their meeting at Washington Park one-half mile to the east. According to historian Randi Storch, a committed young black Communist leader of one of the Unemployed Councils, Joseph Gardner, committed himself to fomenting a confrontation. He declared, “If there is shooting, I expect to be killed, because I shall be on the first rank.”97 Future sociologist Horace R. Cayton, who had recently arrived in the city, described the scene thus: “A young Negro stepped out of the crowd. ‘You can’t shoot all of us so you might as well shoot me. . . . All we want is to see that these people get back into their homes. We have no money, no jobs, sometimes no food. We’ve got to live some place.’”98 An altercation between demonstrators and police ensued and in the wake of the melee three of the protesters lay dead, including Gardner, many more were wounded and three policemen were seriously injured. One of the dead men had taken a policeman’s gun after he had been shot three times by the officer and used it to fire two shots and wound him.99 An atmosphere of hysteria developed as both the possibility and actual occurence of widespread turmoil were reported in the metropolitan press. In the aftermath of what Communist activist Harry Haywood described as the “Chicago massacre,”100 the Chicago Tribune frantically reported on the riot in this manner: In the sharp street fighting that resulted from the Communist outbreaks dozens of policemen engaged in a melee with hundreds of shock troops 86
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1 2 of the Reds who have been holding daily meetings in Washington Park 3 and have been instructed by leaders from Moscow to resist efforts of their 101 4 landlords to put them out for nonpayment of rent. 5 6The city government reacted quickly by calling a meeting to ascertain the 7exact nature of the disturbance, the ramifications of the incident, and the 8possible solutions. Although Mayor Cermak was vacationing in Michigan 9for the summer, he immediately returned to the city, assumed command of 10the city government’s efforts, and called for a special meeting between gov11ernmental officials and black community leaders. Present that same night 12at the city hall were State Representative Charles J. Jenkins, State Senator 13Adelbert Roberts, Third Ward Alderman Robert Jackson, two representa14tives of management from the Chicago Defender, and Reverend Junius C. 15Austin from the Pilgrim Baptist Church. In a follow-up meeting that was 16to continue the discussions the next morning, the group was joined by 17Robert Ephraim, president of one the Chicago divisions of the Universal 18Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), and Reverend Harold Kingsley 19from the Church of the Good Shepherd. All of the assembled community 20spokesmen were less than militant, to say the least, in that they eschewed 21violence as much as the white governmental leaders. 22 Ephraim headed one of the largest UNIA chapters in Chicago and 23was never in the forefront of protest; Kingsley on the other hand had 24been reluctant to give endorsement to the Whip’s campaign use of the 25boycott and protest in 1930. Significantly, there were no representatives 26from the Chicago Urban League or Chicago NAACP present and evi27dently no explanation for their absence was asked for or given. Fear28ing further outbreaks, some black political leaders urged that action be 29taken to diminish the radical influence. Alderman Jackson called for the 30meetings in Washington Park to be watched, while State Senator Roberts inflammatory language, saying 31called for the curtailment of the use of 102 “too much free speech is being allowed. ” 32 33 Robert S. Abbott’s role in the aftermath of the riot was recounted by 34a black worker and street activist, Odis Hyde. Hyde had reached Chi35cago early in the Depression and found that this city of industry had 36shut down its operations, at least in regard to work for the willing. He 37admired the publisher for his militant stand against racism, but after lis38tening to him speak in Washington Park in an attempt to quell dissent, 39found his role in the economic crisis inconsistent. Hyde recalled hearing 40a speech of acquiescence to conditions and rejection of violent means 41such as those employed on August 4. Abbott spoke on a spot usually 42dominated by the Communists and their rhetoric: protest activism in the streets
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What he told us was that we didn’t have to take the road of mass action like the Southern lynch mob. We didn’t have to attack the police and the government. There was another way and that was to patiently and intelligently plead our case through the system. He also said the reason we were having such bad times was that we hadn’t saved for the “lean years.” And to top it off, he warned us that the Communists were a lying, violent, criminal element who were using the misery of Black people to push their own sinister goals. . . .
The crowd’s response could have been anticipated. “Abbott was booed so bad he could hardly finish the speech.”103 Abbott followed his public appearance with a strongly worded editorial in the pages of the Defender that reiterated what Hyde had heard. From the security of his office Abbott wrote that “the uppermost thought of the man farthest down is that organized society has misused him. Organized society has not done that, but it has taken on indifference. . . . Communism is not in the blood of the Negro. But he wants to get up. Unaided by those who should be at his side, he gives ear to the stranger. But he would rather not.”104 In regard to the nature of the disturbance, it was quickly ascertained that there was no threat of a race riot and that the incident was both the result of the economic depression and the agitation of the Communists and black community activists. The elimination of the fear of a race riot meant the city officials could relax somewhat, knowing that any radically inspired action would be less difficult to put down than a full-scale racial confrontation, because the latter could to some extent involve the entirety of the black community, while the former would have involved fewer persons. They reasoned that providing housing and food would defuse the situation and eliminate the chance of a recurrence. In the event there were large-scale disturbances, troops from the National Guard105 and the U.S. Army,106 along with federal agents107, were available to respond and restore order. Tension heightened throughout the black community in the areas of greatest deprivation, which meant most of the Black Metropolis, except for a few patches north and west of Washington Park where African Americans like A. C. MacNeal and Dr. Herbert Turner of the Chicago NAACP lived. The incident showed further signs of the government’s ineptitude and indifference in dealing with the problem of housing during the depression and the willingness of the police to use violence against citizens. Yet, large vocal assemblages still met in the park and elsewhere without police interference.108 In the park, just 36 hours after the riot, Justin DeLemos was urging the crowds using a familiar theme. He advocated the implementation 88
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1 2of a “buyer’s strike to be used to strengthen the renter’s strike.” He was also refuse to 3quoted as exhorting, “Let’s strike at the economic situation. Let’s 109 pay our bills. Let us exercise our suffrage. To hell with charity. ” 4 5 The city administration began to investigate means of increasing 6relief to the destitute from state, county, and city sources. Meanwhile, 7all evictions were halted. Mayor Cermak spoke for the city and declared 8that, “Chicago lacks neither the leadership nor the sympathy to meet this commission met the problems last 9situation. The governor’s employment 110 year and will do so again. ” In fact, the city’s record was quite poor in 10 providing relief, and there had been a decrease from the preceding year 11 in the percentage of monies allotted for relief in 1931.111 Relief aid to the 12 13public sector still came from the private. One example was the effort 14from the United Charities, which, having paid out $32,000 in monthly one year later 15relief in June 1930, saw that increase to $268,000 a month 112 in June 1931. By July 1931, it had reached $286,000. These were large 16 sums indeed, but still they were inadequate. The total for the year repre17 sented nearly a four-fold increase over the previous year to a new high of 18 $12.4 million. However, if there was to be any real impact made it would 19 have to come from the public sector, as would be the case once the pro20 21grams of the New Deal were inaugurated. 22 The response of the major organizations varied in accordance with 23their programmatic interests. The Chicago NAACP appeared to be iso24lated from the situation at this time by its emphasis on tackling legal 25issues related to civil rights violations. The problem of evictions admin26istered fairly through the very courts the Chicago NAACP respected and 27used for deliberations put the matter outside the scope of the organiza28tion’s interests and operations. The response of the branch’s leadership to 29the crisis, at least that portion displayed by the president, appeared dis30tant and perhaps unsympathetic, not unlike the branch’s initial response 31to the plight of the incarcerated blacks in the aftermath of the horrenof radical Com32dous race riot of 1919. To Dr. Turner in 1931, the presence 113 33munist elements in the incident was intolerable. As a result, Turner 34wired this terse summary of the episode to the national office explaining 35the nature of the disturbance: 36 37 clash between police and colored men who attempted to 38 move people back into houses who had been evicted because 39 of the non-payment of rents not racial but radical it has 40 been going on for the past three months and no fault of 41 police who have been extremely lenient nothing discrimina114 42 tory [sic]. protest activism in the streets
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From New York came a reply that exhibited a greater sensitivity to the issue. The national office released a statement on August 7, 1931 that informed the general public that the Chicago branch had been advised: . . . [t]o proceed in the situation precisely as though there had been no Communist agitation, pointing out to the city and other authorities, to employers, and to the public generally the acute economic situation among Negroes and emphasizing the necessity of ending eviction of those unable to pay rent, the granting of unemployment relief, and the giving of jobs as the only method of preventing further trouble.115
Despite an initial directive to act and a follow-up inquiry on the success the branch was having, the NAACP passed the initiative to the Chicago Urban League, which it felt was better equipped to handle the major economic problems of the depression, employment and housing.116 In its own area of expertise, the branch’s Legal Redress Committee, led by Earl B. Dickerson, did cooperate with the Chicago Civil Liberties Union in legal work undertaken in behalf of arrested rioters to protect their rights.117 As one Urban League board member viewed the situation, although the evictions were inhumane, his organization’s hands were tied because they were, in fact, legal. His organization did what it could to help the dispossessed find housing.118 Unfortunately for those among the South Side’s homeless, the League’s shelters for single people had closed earlier during the summer months. It was as though the chill and freezing of Chicago’s winter were the only climatic problems a shelterless individual would have to face. The League, however, rebounded after the riot to deal with the immense problem of housing in the Black Metropolis. What it did accomplish moved it to the forefront of the humanitarian efforts. Former League employee Alonzo Thayer, although with the governor’s office, helped his previous employer coordinate its effort. By mid-September, housing had been made available on an immediate basis to 1,300 single men with a promise to house the remaining homeless persons as soon as possible. Housing was then sought for families both with and without furniture.119 Financing the League in this endeavor was the white, citywide United Charities organization, which offered to compensate the landlords of vacant houses and apartments for their facilities. The Chicago Defender responded in its typical manner when dealing with radicalism during the thirties: with rhetoric more radical than its actions. It evinced sympathy with the issues the Communists raised but not with their program. To reiterate, the paper’s assessment was that 90
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1 120 2“Communism is not in the blood of the Negro.” What the newspaper 3failed to note was that anger at official, authoritative leadership was mak4ing the Negro’s blood boil. Other responses from the black community 5ranged from the humanitarian to the callous. A community group of 6black property owners, the Mid–South Side Property Owners Associa7tion, also cooperated. But it had its attention on the plight of the land8lord who had to pay taxes and fuel bills as well as on that of the homeless 9and the soon to be evicted. However, the Association went so far as to 10agree with the Unemployed Council’s demands that vacant, municipally 121 11owned houses on South Parkway be made available to the homeless. 12At the opposite end of the spectrum loomed those who placed property 13rights far in front of humanitarian considerations. One such source of 14this attitude was the Defender’s political editor and Second Ward Repub15lican organization member, A. N. Fields, who wrote the pseudonymic 16Uncle Eph column. He stated callously, “The Reds are still moving peo17ple back: I understand that the Reds are going to have this thing incor18porated. You know the people for years have been trying to find out how 19to stay in a122building without paying rent, and the Reds have fixed that up 20for them.” 21 Meanwhile, the Communists’ inclination was to make the funeral of 22the three slain men into a tribute to martyrs of an oppressive system. 23The bodies of two of the three slain demonstrators lay in state all week 24at the Odd Fellows Hall at 3337 South State Street until the funeral on 25Saturday. It was recorded that at least 25,000 persons viewed the bod26ies and upward of 30,000 paraded with them to the train that would 27take123them home to their final resting places in Mississippi and Arkan28sas. The parade took three-quarters of an hour to pass any one given sympathizers, one-third of whom were 29point on the line of march as the 124 white, marched eight abreast. As they marched they sang black spiri30 tuals as well as songs of Communist origins. They also carried banners 31 that described their feelings on both racial egalitarianism and capitalist 32 33exploitation, such as “Down With Segregation!” “They Died For Us!” 34“We Must Keep Fighting!” “Fight Against Lynching—Equal125Rights For 35Negroes!” and “Negro Misleaders Incited These Murders.” One anti36Communist magazine reported that of all the slogans, those dealing with action seemed to elicit the greatest 37racial justice and not insurrectionary 126 applause from onlookers. 38 to hold its first success39 The funeral allowed the Communist Party 127 ful parade in Depression-decade Chicago. In the aftermath of the 40 riot the Communists received over 500 applications for membership 41 and the Unemployed Council received over 5,500 new applications for 42 protest activism in the streets
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membership.128 The hiatus in evictions had given the Communist Party a victory, but it was to be short-lived. As soon as the situation became less tense, the bailiff ’s office again began to serve writs of eviction.129 Without a doubt, the members of the black political establishment were not as sympathetic to the plight of the evicted as they might have been. If the actions attributed to landlord DePriest and the statements attributed to Jackson, Roberts, and Fields indicated anything at all, then the politicians, too, were socially and economically elitist, with tinges of conservative Social Darwinian tendencies (of blaming the victim) that would account partially for their callousness. Aside from their Christmas baskets, the politicians provided very little in the way of a solution. DePriest had a feeding station at his headquarters but no real grasp of the situation and obviously no comprehensive community program. Certain community and Communist elements were so upset with the politicians’ seeming lack of concern that they staged a Children’s Day demonstration on September 5, 1931, in front of the somewhat recently built, architecturally attractive home of Second Ward Alderman Anderson on the corner of 36th Street and Calumet Avenue. The group demanded food, clothing, and supplies for the children of the unemployed. The person who represented Anderson in his absence from the city, State Representative George Blackwell, gave the group a $15 donation, a hefty sum for that period, and told them that by following the proper channels they would get better results in their effort. His recommendation, one that did not address the demonstrators’ demands, was that they contact Third Ward Alderman Robert Jackson, who was a member of the City Council’s Finance Committee.130 The legal investigation into the cause of the killings was handled by the “respectable element” of the black community, the Legal Redress Committee of the Chicago NAACP, as that organization was finally prompted to act. It worked with the Chicago Civil Liberties Committee, the Chicago affiliate of the ACLU. This was a complicated case to unravel legally, as the findings of the coroner’s inquest showed that “the principal Negro and other witnesses [were] endeavoring to establish that the police fired prior to an overt act of violence [while] the police state[d] that they were the victims of an unprovoked attack and fired in self-defense only to save their own 1ives.” The Civil Liberties Committee’s report, which found the Communists and their sympathizers as well as the police culpable, was deemed “just and reliable” by the Chicago NAACP.131 Indeed, the Communists had helped to incite the violent behavior and the Chicago Police Department had failed to act with professional demeanor and had used an unwarranted show of armed force. The primary culprit, of course, 92
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1 2was the economic milieu that produced the unemployment and other 3economic ills. In its conclusion, the report called for an132improvement 4in the protection of the civil liberties of the unemployed. To the Com5munists this last recommendation was the only valid item the committee 6discussed. 7 The eviction riots frightened the city’s establishment to such an extent 8that somehow they tied the issue to the literary contents of the newly9constructed South Side public library branch, which was the first branch Black Metropo10built in an all-black area and was named after one of the 133 lis’s leading civic figures, Dr. George Cleveland Hall. The president of 11 the Chicago Public Library, Carl B. Roden, thought that revolutionary 12 population and 13books and tracts being shelved would be read by the 134 would help foment additional clashes with the police. Since the library 14 was located about one-half mile from the site of the August 3, 1931 riot in 15 which three men were killed and several policemen and demonstrators 16 17injured, Roden’s fears were somewhat understandable, even if unfounded 18in the facts. 19 Built around the bequeathed personal library of the late Dr. Charles 20Edwin Bentley, according to one of its own librarians it contained nothor calculated by any 21ing of “an incendiary or revolutionary character, 135 stretch of the imagination to cause a ‘race riot. ’ ” Its head librarian was 22 the able Vivian G. Harsh, an African American librarian with impecca23 ble credentials in the field of library science and who held commensurate 24 25experience within the Chicago Public Library system. Harsh, a biblio26phile and early member of Carter G. Woodson’s Chicago-founded Asso27ciation for the Study of Negro Life and History, was solely interested in imposing Arthur 28creating in Chicago the equivalent of New York City’s 136 29Schomburg Collection on African American life. And in actuality, the 30future of the facility lay in its “revolutionary” contribution to building a 31literary tradition among African Americans in Chicago, in whose ranks 32would be included Langston Hughes, Richard Wright, Arna Bontemps, 33Gwendolyn Brooks, and others who would win later acclaim. 34 35The Second Chicago World’s Fair as an Employment Venue 36 Nineteen-thirty-three opened with a number of positive signs for a 37 nation in the throes of economic depression and social discontent. Chi38 cago was honored to host its second world’s fair, which opened on May 39 27, 1933, carrying with it the hopes of its black citizens for jobs as well 40 as proper representation of African Americans as a bona fide portion 41 of global humanity. Many blacks who participated in the city’s second 42 protest activism in the streets
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world’s fair in forty years, officially designated A Century of Progress, felt that their race had arrived at a level of fully recognized citizenship, and before the collapse of the economy in 1930, a level of economic advancement and progress only dreamt about at the time of the World’s Columbian Exposition, Chicago’s first world’s fair, in 1893. Employment appeared as the key economic consideration. The fair was expected by the managers and the public to expand employment during a time of economic distress.137 There were parallels to the situation during the World’s Columbian Exposition that highlighted how things had—and had not—changed. Just as the planning for the second world’s fair began before the Great Depression struck in 1930, so too the planning for the first world’s fair had begun in a period of relative economic stability that was followed by a massive economic collapse, the depression of 1893–1897, that coincided with the fair. During 1893, given economic conditions, employment became all the more important and some limited opportunities for blacks opened in preparing the fairgrounds for the actual construction of the buildings that made up the fabled “White City” of faux marble. The second phase of the work was reserved for white laborers, some American and some foreign-born. A few black craftsmen found work and a smattering of clerical positions were filled.138 For the fair of 1933, occurring in the heart of the Great Depression, employment also proved scarce except at the lower echelon of service sector. Hundreds of black washroom attendants were hired; they had to depend on coerced tips from white patrons as much as they did the meager weekly wages of $15 they were promised. Dire conditions were exacerbated by unscrupulous agencies that advertised offers of jobs and wages that never materialized.139 The Chicago Defender attempted to do its part by assigning its director of the public bureau, Edgar G. Brown, the task of scouring for jobs. The service jobs that were obtained were welcomed and honorable, “but there were carpenters, bricklayers, plasterers, watchmen, clerks, stenographers, bookkeepers, trained persons who had passed the police examinations under the city and South Park civil service commissions and thousands of other qualified members of the Race and there certainly was no reason applications could not be taken from them and subsequently given employment like any other competent persons,” a Defender reporter lamented.140 After his involvement in the Street Car Riots, Thomas T. Soders continued in his efforts to secure jobs for African Americans by approaching the fair’s management to lend its support and reverse the employment travesty. The response of “nothing doing” routinely greeted black job 94
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1 2seekers at the gates of the fair. Writing to Colonel Rufus C. Dawes, presi3dent of the fair, Soders talked of “knowing of you and your illustrative believe only in fair play and justice, [your 4behavior to the extent that you 141 5intervention is requested].” Though they did not communicate their 6response to Soders, Colonel Randolph and Dr. Albert D. Allen’s reaction 7to the inquiry amounted to the opinion that there is “nothing we142can do 8about it,” the situation being in the hands of private contractors. 9 For a young John Titus, employment amounted to working as a “pot 10washer” cleaning pots at the B&G Sandwich Shop in the Sears & Roebuck 11Building while washing dishes and glasses was reserved for the Filipino 12workers. But143the pay was good in his estimation at $12 per week, rising to 13$14 in 1934. Two black policemen were hired and served on the ACOP 14protective service, an improvement over the 1893 exposition’s record of 15total exclusion, but overall, the fair failed to demonstrate progress by 16providing what was sorely needed in this area, employment. Geared ini17tially not only to highlight scientific achievement, its secondary purpose 18was to serve as an engine to the city’s economy. While the fair did help 19the city’s economy, in its failure to pressure concessionaires to apply fair 20rules of employment, it represented anything but progress in American 21life and in the life of the city’s African American citizenry. Organized 22groups of the more radical and militant variety now stood ready to meet 23the emergent needs of the economically distressed. 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 protest activism in the streets
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four
Organized Protest Responses— From Militant to Revolutionary The NAACP and the Communist Party
We are going to steal all the thunder of the Communists without having the label of the Communists. —A. C. MacNeal, Chicago NAACP president, 1933
Depression-decade circumstances dictated that the most radical and militant organizations purporting to meet the emergent needs of the economically distressed adopt a dual agenda embracing both economic relief and the protection of civil rights.1 Duality was a necessity, because in order to enlist the racially conscious black population of whatever class level to challenge the economic status quo, an appeal based on the pursuit of racial advancement had to be included. A. C. MacNeal led the Chicago NAACP into adopting a dual agenda to solve the Black Belt’s immediate needs—by trying to secure jobs—while continuing the Association’s primary mission of fighting violations to basic citizenship rights. Meanwhile, the Communist Party of the U.S.A. (CPUSA) embarked on its own dual agenda, but in its case it used an effort to fight for civil rights as a lure to entice black workers and the unemployed into a struggle that it considered of global importance—to understand, undermine, and destroy the capitalist system that brought on the worldwide depression in the first instance. The Communists were handicapped first by the orders emanating from Moscow, which embraced certain elements of nationalism that, in fact, dissuaded certain groups of African Americans from following their direction. Then, the Communists, being overwhelmingly white in their racial composition, suffered by having so few active, welltrained, and influential black party members within their ranks. In combining race and class, the Communists initiated a set of contradictions 96
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1 2that invalidated the strength of the purity of their economic doctrine 3and pursuits. 4 However, just as the nation anticipated the ascendancy of Franklin D. 5Roosevelt to the presidency in March, 1933, the Chicago NAACP expe6rienced a change at its helm. Journalist and activist A. C. MacNeal took 7the reins of the organization in January and immediately began to trans8form the civil rights affiliate into an aggressive counterweight to groups 9across the ideological spectrum: white supremacists; Communists; and 10even black advocates of separate development, such as supporters of the 11Black Metropolis ideal, the 8th Infantry Regiment of the Illinois National 12Guard, and the Universal Negro Improvement Association. 13 While previous to this period the Chicago NAACP was identified with 14a lack of ideological and programmatic relevance, MacNeal ushered in 15a transformation consistent with the temper of the times. The NAACP 16bonded loosely with the Chicago Urban League, the organization with 17which they shared the most in terms of mission, personnel, and fundrais18ing, and this relationship illuminated the weaknesses that had plagued 19each since their inceptions. These weaknesses affected them even more 20than the influence of the Great Depression. In spite of the high level of 21economic deprivation, the interests of the leadership and a portion of the 22membership of the branch were not necessarily congruent with those of 23the larger body of black Chicagoans, due to status, occupational, ideo24logical, and cultural differences. Importantly, both the leaderships of 25the Chicago Urban League and the Chicago NAACP viewed the former 26organization as having the responsibility of tackling the purely economic 27problems that beset black Chicagoans. The ideology and program of the 28Chicago NAACP, which was oriented toward the civil and political rights 29problems that blacks encountered, would find greater acceptance decades 30in the future, when the collective lot of blacks had improved. With the 31major problems of this decade having an economic base, the NAACP’s 32ideology was outmatched by the Communist Party’s doctrinal emphasis 33on systemic change. Whatever the option presented, to the Communists 34only their solution seemed relevant. One member wrote: 35 36 The triviality of the [buying power idea] is obvious on the face of it. It is 37 indeed possible to organize boycott actions to compel petty shopkeep38 ers in Harlem to hire Negro clerks and it is even possible on occasion to 39 kick up a row big enough to force a Woolworth store in Chicago to make 40 a “promise.” But what has this to do with the hundreds of thousands of 41 Negro workers in the coal, iron, steel, oil, automobile and packing indus2 42 tries, in the basic industries of America? organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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At this point in the history of the Black Belt, the Chicago NAACP was an anomaly to the largely rural-oriented, non-industrial, unemployed population. Since the Chicago NAACP had no program component of its own in the economic realm, being a civil rights organization, its program did not suffer adversely from the influence of the depression like the Chicago Urban League’s did. Even the branch’s involvement in the “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work” campaign in 1930 was not that of an entire organization attuned to the changing times. Rather, it was the effort of a group of leaders of the branch who ruled a closed corporate body. A. C. MacNeal and the NAACP during a Time of Change
The incoming president wrote to the national executive secretary in New York, Walter White, promising change, and true to his word, A. C. MacNeal’s ascendancy to the branch presidency propelled the Chicago NAACP into a fully modern, activist stage of programmatic activities. As one of about 400 branches in the nation, the organization developed a sense of maturity that was directly linked to the personality and vision of MacNeal. Serving as the branch’s third black president and fourth overall, he was its first leader from the ranks of the professional middle class, his predecessor having been a member of the elite, or upper class. In addition, MacNeal represented the generational link between several key elements in branch history. This chain extended from the neo-abolitionist, biracial founders of the Progressive Era to the “New Negroes” in the Black Metropolis of the 1920s, to the “young Turks” legal corps in the contemporary branch of the early Depression and later New Deal period. With the exception of the trio of Attorney Earl B. Dickerson, physician Dr. A. Wilberforce Williams, and postal employee Archie L. Weaver, no one could claim to be a more active and direct product of neo-abolitionist thought and zeal than A. C. MacNeal. Along with Dickerson and Williams, he was considered in December 1932 as one of the possible successors to Dr. Herbert Turner. Dr. Williams, who was an Association life member, seriously considered taking the office;3 however, he was looking forward to celebrating his sixty-ninth birthday in 1933 and was ending a long, distinguished career in medicine. The strains and demands of the presidency presumably did not look very appealing. Dickerson, meanwhile, was busy in electoral politics as a Democrat and expected appointment to the post of Assistant Attorney General of Illinois, a position he did receive in February, 1933. The branch’s established tradition of occupational elitism automatically 98
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1 2excluded Weaver from consideration to fill the presidency. MacNeal, 3the final choice, embodied the anxiety brewing within the branch; the Roosevelt’s initiation of the New Deal added to festering 4anticipation of 4 5factionalism. Moreover, MacNeal possessed the physical, occupational, 6educational, ideological, and all-important administrative requisites to 7lead the organization at this time. 8 MacNeal’s personality was unusual and so was his physiognomy. He at the 9was described by one contemporary who had worked with him 5 Chicago Whip as resembling “an old Colored Ichabod Crane. ” His light 10 complexion was attributable to his descent from mixed racial ancestry 11 12in Louisiana. The frustration of not having achieved his lifetime goals of 13personal and professional distinction because of his color and African 14ancestry acted as a stimulus to MacNeal’s ambitious personality, drivin actions to change the racial status quo in Chicago 15ing him to engage 6 and the nation. The promise of racial equality promoted by the NAACP 16 throughout the country provided MacNeal with the vehicle through 17 which he could both personally and collectively achieve the recognition 18 denied him and his group for so long. The fusion of organization and 19 man produced an unwavering loyalty to the Association and an ideologi20 21cal zeal for racial equality that was unshakable. Further, his aggressivehim as a man “born with a 22ness was such that a contemporary described 7 sour stomach which has never been cured. ” 23 24 Ideologically, MacNeal thrived as an advocate of the “whole loaf or 25none at all” faction within the Association, which zealously fought rac26ism among whites and voluntary segregation among blacks. Yet, in a 27city like Chicago, there was so much diversity in thought and behavior 28among African Americans that the notion of racial equality still encoun29tered resistance. The desire among African Americans for racial equality 30was not always distinct from the simpler desire for increased opportuni31ties of equal access to jobs, housing, education, and recreation, and this 32confusion of goals produced an ambivalence. 33 Whether it was Turner or MacNeal at the helm, two indices measured 34the branch’s vitality as an organization that could be and was affected 35adversely by the depression. In its efforts at fundraising and the recruit36ment of its membership, which were two complementary functions, the 37Chicago NAACP felt the brunt of the depression quite clearly. As an 38organization staffed solely by volunteers, the Chicago branch had prob39lems in maintaining its operational status, but they never proved monu40mental because of the advantage to be enjoyed during a period of finan41cial exigency in not having to pay salaried personnel. However, there 42were limitations imposed by its ability, or inability, to raise funds. Funds organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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were always desperately needed to pay for essential goods such as office supplies, telegrams, and space, and services such as printing and telephone usage. The effort to secure these funds was also a reliable indicator of the community’s support, an indicator that during this period was an annual reminder of the organization’s inability to promote a program that matched the needs of the times. Much like the Chicago Urban League, the Chicago branch of the NAACP depended on an annual membership drive, this one occurring late in the year in November, as one of its three principal sources of revenue. On the other hand, it derived its other income from two sources that were uniquely related to its social and racial composition. The summer cabaret, usually held in June, was a major fundraiser and appealed to the middle and upper strata of Chicago’s black society. The other source upon which the Chicago branch was so dependent primarily came from the personal philanthropic donations of blacks. The middling class composed of small business operators, Pullman porters, postal workers, and semiprofessionals, along with the solid working class still on their jobs, clearly expressed their commitment to egalitarianism through this means. The annual drive for financial support presented Association officers with what the national Secretary, Walter White, called the “eternal problem.”8 Throughout the period of the early Depression the branch had difficulty in meeting both its national assessments and local financial expenses. During 1930 and 1931, two years of exceedingly high levels of economic deprivation, each year’s drive was started on a note of false optimism probably born of a need to convince both branch workers and supporters in the community of the possibility of success.9 By 1932, the reality of the depression with its crushing financial force had set in. That year the drive began on a realistic, yet pessimistic, note. Sentiments containing such comments as “the depression has hit us all,” “these are tough times,” and “Chicago is one of the hardest hit cities as far as unemployment is concerned”10 were commonly found in correspondence sent between the Chicago and national offices. The annual fall drive for members ostensibly was carried out to expand the organization’s base of support and to raise revenue for local and national operations. In reality, only the latter function was fulfilled, and even then with only a modicum of success, since the branch’s expenses were not exceedingly high. The typical contributor and member was an individual who might buy a $1 membership to help the Association in its work locally and nationally, but whose affinity for the organization rarely extended beyond the membership card that he or she carried. The branch’s membership in 1930 was described by one source, the Chicago 100
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1 11 2Defender, as being “scant.” In answer to this12 problem, the annual drive 3was set to increase the membership to 5,000, this for a branch described 4by a distraught Chicagoan in a letter to the national secretary in this 5manner, “It does not function to any noticeable extent. You never hear 6of any of its activities, although there is plenty to be done. . . . I know its . . . They seem to have an occa7president, and some of the other officers. 13 sional money campaign but that is all. ” The problem was so severe and 8 the perception of the branch was so negative that Richard Wright spoke 9 of the masses’ indifference and lack of knowledge of the organization in 10 his classic, Native Son. 11 12 Since the economic milieu was not at all14 conducive to fundraising, 13the city being “hard hit by unemployment,” the total number of memunexpectedly, remained low and was only 1,500 by the end 14berships, not 15 of the year. Attempts to increase the membership over the course of 15 the year had ranged from the presentation of free drama at the centrally 16 17located Wabash YMCA to mass meetings on the controversial nomina18tion of a North Carolina judge, John Parker, to the U.S. Supreme Court. goal a membership of 5,000 19 In 1931 the branch once again set as its 16 but fell short with only 2,600 members. The next year, when any rea20 sonably predicted goal was acceptable, the membership fell below the 21 17 300 mark. This year was unusual in that an additional factor affecting 22 recruitment, that of politics, was introduced. Immense resources in the 23 community were expended in the fall in behalf of the black Republican 24 25state ticket, and in particular the reelection to Congress of Republican 26Oscar DePriest, as the Roosevelt landslide swept the country. Hence, 27there was little energy left for a campaign to benefit a protest organi18 28zation after the community had spent itself on the political front. In in 29regard to the availability of volunteers from among the membership, 19 1930 there had been 500; in 1931, 200; and in 1932, less than 150. 30 31 The organizations and businesses that did contribute heavily to the 32membership ranks and coffers were the several postal employee associa33tions that included the Phalanx Club, the Supreme Liberty Life Insurance 34Company, the Poro College, the Appomattox Club, and the Ambassa35dor Club. These were all black organizations and confirmed Dr. Herbert 36Turner’s view that the branch was independent in its actions because its and “financial support came 90 percent from members of 37membership 20 our Race. ” Indeed, the branch was as nearly devoid of a white presence 38 at the membership level as it was in the rungs of its leadership. Notable 39 among its non-black members were a female physician, Dr. C. K. Bartlett 40 41of the West Side, who contributed consistently in the thirties and who 42even took out two $25 memberships in a single year, 1932, and Colonel organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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A. A. Sprague, a Cermak Democrat and the Commissioner of Public Works, who took out a $10 membership in the 1931 drive. The annual cabaret provided the second source of revenue, while personal and group donations provided the third source. It appeared that the depression had no effect whatsoever on whether or not the mass of black Chicagoans were going to donate or take out memberships. The branch had never enjoyed any support from this group since its inception in 1913. Their interests lay not just in the area of the attainment of civil rights but in the totality of their need for existence, which in the thirties meant they were concerned primarily with unemployment, housing and evictions, relief, and personal safety from police brutality. The branch also met with a similar failure when it attempted to get support through donations and memberships from some of the more prominent, older black Chicagoans such as Robert S. Abbott, Anthony Overton, Jesse Binga, and Attorney Edward H. Morris. Abbott was concerned with “the masses and not the classes” and eschewed any connection with the Chicago NAACP, which he considered elitist and whose leadership he distrusted on a personal basis related to social affairs.21 This stance stood, interestingly, in direct contradiction to his own personal aspirations for social acceptance among both the black and white elites.22 Overton23 and Morris24 also appeared to be less than enthusiastic about their racial obligation of making financial commitments to the Association, possibly because of distaste for the branch’s leadership. As the Depression decade opened, the leadership of the branch was under the control of Dr. Herbert A. Turner, whose tenure as president was lengthy, especially for the Chicago branch. This noted physician remained in office from 1925 until January, 1933. While he held office, he was both the titular head of the organization and also the dominant force in forming and implementing branch policy.25 Turner’s tenure and his presence in office were likewise significant for this reason: he was the same determined worker in support of the branch’s program in 1932 that he had been in 1925 when he initially assumed office.26 He also brought useful attributes with him: his status as a physician lent respectability to his office and the organization; his profession allowed him the financial independence necessary to carry out his duties as the head of an organization that offered no remunerative rewards and to help the organization from his own funds;27 with his wife’s assistance, he provided stability, an essential component to the branch’s survival, in the form of consistently effective public fundraising.28 Moreover, Dr. Turner lent his office space, facilities, and mailing address to the branch, which gave it the appearance of permanency. 102
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1 2Turner’s departure from office after 1932 seems to have resulted from 3internal friction within the branch due to personality conflicts, rather 4than from substantive factors such as ideological divisions or program5matic squabbles. He was supposedly unable to work cordially any longer 6with his social inferior, Archie L. Weaver, who despite being 29a postal 7employee had risen to become the executive secretary in 1930. Of his 8medical compatriots, Doctors Charles M. Thompson and Charles V. 9Dudley, who had served as vice president and treasurer, respectively, for 10a two-year period beginning in 1931, only Dudley left office with Turner. 11Thompson remained active with the NAACP and was to continue ser12vice as vice president under the branch’s new leadership. Weaver 13 At the time Turner made his decision to leave office, Archie L. 30 was the branch’s longest remaining active member and officer. He was 14 known popularly in the Black Metropolis as “a man of his word. ”31 In 15 16regard to his educational background, Weaver had attended the Marion 17Business College (in his home state of Indiana) and Howard University 18in Washington, D.C. By occupation he was a postal worker with twenty 19years of service on the job at the Chicago Post Office. By civic commit20ment he was founder of the Phalanx Forum Club, a service organiza21tion of two decades’ standing among postal workers, as well as a Mason 22and an Elk. Perhaps most importantly, he was always a dependable, suc23cessful, and indispensable fundraiser during the annual fall drive for 24memberships. He represented the all-important link to the postal con25tributors who accounted for one-half of the contributions raised for the 26branch operations. 27 In 1930, he functioned as financial secretary, and with the prolonged 28absences of the then executive secretary, Morris Lewis (who was Con29gressman DePriest’s secretary in Washington), 32he began to perform 30those duties in April as acting executive secretary. By November he had 31replaced Lewis outright by a unanimous vote of the executive commit32tee. When, on several occasions, he attempted to retire, the move was 33usually met by opposition from committee members who recognized 34the indispensable nature of his service to the branch. And, as if in tes35timony to Weaver’s value to the branch, he was the one who personally 36took charge (in the tradition of the now deceased Dr. Bentley) of finding 37a suitable33replacement for the outgoing president, Dr. Turner, in Septem38ber 1932. 39 The governing body of the organization was the executive committee. 40At its peak, it listed twenty-six members. In 1930, its ranks were diverse 41and included politicians, like Oscar DePriest, his secretary Morris Lewis, 42State Senator Adelbert H. Roberts, and State Representatives William E. organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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King and George W. Blackwell; lawyers, like Earl B. Dickerson, Graham T. Perry of the West Side, and Theophilus M. Mann; a newspaper editor in A. C. MacNeal of the Whip; ministers; and social workers. In its racial and gender composition, the committee was near totally black and male. Its meetings, unlike those of the Chicago Urban League, were held in the most densely populated portion of the black community, which meant that it was in the midst of the populace it purported to serve. However, the executive committee produced decisions on programs that were aimed more at alleviating the plight of the professional and middle strata of blacks than of their working-class black brethren. The former had problems that were more non-economic in character than economic, and therefore quite different than the problems facing the majority of the black people on the South Side. The gap between the program that the branch offered and the needs of the mass of the citizenry of the Black Belt was produced by the hierarchical nature of the executive committee. First, the branch faced a problem in regard to its attendance at its leadership meetings. It was difficult to get more than a quorum at most sessions, and this produced a ruling clique. One group, the politicians, never attended meetings because they were probably too busy or considered the meetings unimportant.34 Second, those who did attend represented only a small portion of the population of the Black Belt in that their status, occupations, and incomes were higher than most people’s. Third, the membership of the branch was neither informed of nor invited to branch meetings and, therefore, had no input into decisions regarding policy and program.35 What the people of the Black Metropolis perceived when they looked at the Chicago NAACP was an organization that conducted its business as an exclusive club without apparent regard for the divergent interests of the community’s inhabitants. Oriented toward the upper- and middle-class interests of probably far less than 25 percent of the Black Metropolis’s population and ideologically a generation ahead of its time in pursuing an egalitarian America, the Chicago NAACP did not do much to shed its aura of conservatism and aloofness—until January 1933, when A. C. MacNeal assumed the presidency. So, while the Communists were embracing the bulk of the black South Side’s citizenry, the Chicago branch of the NAACP was seeking both social and physical distance from them. When MacNeal explained the situation to the national office, he wrote that “It was true that the local Branch had no definite program for the people of chicago . . . It was true that the local branch had failed dismally to serve actively the locality in the matter of an active, vigorous campaign for Negro rights.”36 104
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1 2 The branch, then, at once was out of step on the local level and had a 3tendency to work to solve its own particular problems in disregard of its 4assigned supportive role in the national organization’s program. If this 5produced friction with the national office, which was feeling the brunt 6of the depression because of its diversified activities and leading organi7zational role, the Chicago branch still persisted, refusing to be deterred 8from its course of action. This spirit of independence reflected the rug9ged determination of the entire city to seek solutions to problems along 10a path imperceptible to others, a path that became the “Chicago way.” 11The branch was willing to raise funds for the Scottsboro Boys Defense 12to protect the rights of falsely accused rape suspects in the Deep South 13as part of the national campaign, but at the same time felt compelled to 14champion the cause of citizens in Chicago who were the victims of police 15harassment and sometimes physical abuse. 16 Even before MacNeal’s ascension to office, Dr. Turner had pondered 17undertaking two efforts to improve the effectiveness of the branch’s gov18ernance. The first was hiring a paid executive secretary to handle branch 19affairs and widen branch activities. Although the executive secretary in 20was never hired, the initiative to widen branch activities was seen 37 21the “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work” campaign. The 22second effort did reach fruition, and consisted of separating the highly 23active members of the executive committee from the less active. The 24branch mirrored the Chicago Urban League’s actions of 1931 by organiz25ing an advisory committee to allow for the inclusion of a body of persons 26in branch affairs who could not or would not attend meetings, but could 27help the branch by lending their names and occasionally their advice. 28 This new body included Oscar DePriest and his overstretched secre29tary, Morris Lewis, who were shifted from the executive committee after 301930; State Senator Adelbert Roberts; and Municipal Court Judge Albert 31George. Two of the three major figures in black publishing—Abbott and 32Overton—were inducted, as was the highly respected Mary McDowell of 33the University of Chicago Settlement House, who still remained a major 34sympathetic link to the white community. Robert S. Abbott remained 35noticeably aloof until 1933, when he was persuaded to38 support the orga36nization more publicly, as he had in its earliest days. Other Caucasian 37members such as Jane Addams and Clarence Darrow were assigned to 38seats on the National Board of Directors in New York, a symbolic gesture. 39Miss Addams was never active in the thirties and suffered enervation 40because of her poor health, overwork, and demanding peace commit41ments. While Darrow was honored in June 1930 for his legal contribu42tions and steadfast devotion to racial progress, at age seventy-three his organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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was also a declining role commensurate with his age and a diminishing energy level. The executive committee became smaller but was supported by a strong Legal Redress Committee, which aptly fit this description made of black professionals in the thirties: . . . the Negro professionals in Chicago sometimes have assumed the role of protector and guardian for those in the lower and middle strata. They fight for the civil and social rights of Negroes and design most of their activity around the idea of protection to “ unfortunate persons” of their racial derivation. This operation however, is, psychologically, from a distance.39
In June 1931 the up-and-coming, ubiquitous Earl B. Dickerson assumed the chair and led this group of fifteen lawyers, eleven of whom were black, and four, white.40 Included in the latter element was Elbridge Bancroft Pierce, whose social and professional prestige rested on his being a member of an old-line white Chicago family, a distinguished attorney, and president of the Chicago Urban League. Across the board, the Legal Redress Committee contained some of Chicago’s finest lawyers serving as volunteers. By 1933, Attorney Irvin C. Mollison assumed the helm of the activist legal arm of the branch. With MacNeal’s arrival into office, and consistent with the tone of activism he brought, from 1933 on they achieved an impressive record of court-fought victories surpassing even their service under outgoing President Herbert Turner. Political scientist Ralph J. Bunche wrote of their “taking over” the branch, but in reality they always performed their duties on amicable terms within the organizational structure.41 Branch president Dr. Herbert Turner, who led the Chicago NAACP at the advent of the Great Depression, proved himself a steady helmsman, if not an innovative one. He prevented organizational demise as the branch encountered an economic climate that demanded change in the branch’s ideology and programmatic direction. However, it was left to his successor to introduce a new tone and direction to the Chicago NAACP’s egalitarian crusade. Its militant tone and intent ignited a vigorous, uncompromising attack on all vestiges of racism as well as of voluntary separation among blacks. Both the concept and existence of the Black Metropolis became one of new president A. C. MacNeal’s targets as he reshaped the character of protest advocacy. In addition to MacNeal’s aversion to what he perceived as self-imposed separation or segregation, he saw the Communist Party and its doctrine as inimical to the American way of life and fought tooth and nail to prevent any Communist takeover of the Chicago NAACP. 106
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1 2The Communist Party Struggles to Spread Its Ideology 3 4The CPUSA acted as a countervailing force of egalitarianism and com5peted effectively for the hearts and minds of the unemployed. Other 6socioeconomic classes resisted its siren’s call and held fast to the Chi7cago NAACP. The Communist Party’s program was rooted in its com8mitment to the doctrine of Marxism-Leninism, which sought to bring 9about a complete change in the American capitalist order. Just as the 10petit bourgeois elements that the Communists despised had seen 1930 11as a time when Chicago was ready for racial and employment reform, 12the advent of the Great Depression presented the Chicago chapter of the 13CPUSA with its best opportunity to promote its program of economic 14revolution for the nation and for social egalitarianism among black and 15white workers. In implementing its program, the Communist Party 16looked for issues, hopefully sensational and provocative, upon which to 17build its organizational base in the Black Metropolis and the city as a 42 18whole. It followed tactics which consisted “in putting forth concrete 19demands and slogans growing out of the everyday economic or political 20life of the [locale] concerned. All workers, regardless of color, sex or age, 43 21[were] then called upon to unite for the securing of these demands.” 22In particular, these demands revolved around those issues associated 23with the high level of economic deprivation being experienced during 24the early, pre–New Deal period. The party leadership also noticed that, 25unlike Harlem’s black population with its labor roots in the domestic 26and service fields, Chicago’s African American workers had increasingly 27become industrialized, with all of the positive benefits accruing to work28ers whose level of production directly contributed toward their bosses’ 44 29economic wellbeing. 30 Unemployment, inadequate relief, and housing evictions were the 31issues upon which the Communist chapter focused. The Communist 32Party worked through several organizations, the activities of which 33often overlapped, to achieve its goals of alleviating the problems of the 34economically distressed. These were “unlike Communist organizations 35that existed before 1930 in that before the depression the personnel of 36all affiliated organizations were largely Communist, and in practice 45 37there was little separation from the general party line.” Now “cover” 38or “front” organizations were active that included Communists, Com39munist sympathizers, and non-Communist community activists. When 40properly utilized, the Communists had hoped this arrangement would 41prove valuable in bringing about their desired “radicalization of the 42masses.” organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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The potentialities of the affiliated organizations were great but there was often a large gap between theory and practice, and Communist control of affiliated organizations was sometimes lost. In Chicago, “the largest of five cover [or affiliated] organizations of the depression period was the Unemployed Councils[,] which had at least 80 locals [city-wide].”46 As to the Councils’ origin, according to ideological opposites Harry Haywood and Harold F. Gosnell, they were organized in the fall of 1930, with “black workers playing a leading role,” according to Haywood.47 Social observer Horace R. Cayton claimed they began as first indigenously led and directed, and then were influenced heavily by members of the Communist Party, while historian Randi Storch, like Haywood, claims an initial Communist origin.48 The Councils were extremely active city-wide throughout the period and had several locals on the South Side among blacks. Among the latter group, the Unemployed Councils were active in Washington Park, a favorite meeting ground of the dispossessed as well as the open-air orators of the day. It was from this municipal park facility that the crowds originated which participated in the Street Car Riots and later eviction disturbances of the late summer, 1930. Then in 1931, the Councils were highly visible in organizing blacks into groups that participated in the eviction disturbances and in the relief station protests that culminated in the cause célèbre of the early thirties in Chicago, the eviction riot of August 3, 1931, in which demonstrators battled police with a loss of three lives. Interestingly enough, due to strong, uncontrollable, indigenous nonCommunist leadership in some locals, there was no clear-cut course of action always followed in street demonstrations in 1930 and 1931. They were originally organized to deal with the problem of unemployment but sometimes of their own volition expanded their activities to concern themselves with what the Party considered provincial, neighborhood concerns. Many, in fact, adhered to this new interest so firmly that they moved beyond Communist control, much to the chagrin of Party leaders.49 One such unit was led by Jesse “Pop” Helton (a black man) and concentrated more on community problems than it did on internalizing Marxist-Leninist doctrine. Helton maintained that he utilized the methods and finances of the Communists without accepting their ideology.50 Locals within the Unemployed Councils were broadly inclusive and were composed of not only jobless men but also women and children. Dues for membership, reflective of the level of deprivation, were set at the minimum rate of two cents per week.51 Such a small sum protected the worker’s dignity while acknowledging his or her investment as a stakeholder in this movement. 108
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1 2 Perhaps the next most effective front organization employed by the 3Party in its program aimed at winning support in the black commu4nity between 1929 and 1934 was the International Labor Defense (ILD). 5Although active programmatically before the Depression, it did not enjoy 6name recognition until the Scottsboro trial that occurred in 1931. Many 7liberals and non-political trade unionists were included in its ranks. branches in the city and sub8By November, 1931 there were forty-nine 52 9urbs, with a total membership of 1,905. Closely affiliated with the ILD 10in its work was a creation of the Depression-decade League of StrugCouncil 11gle for Negro Rights (LSNR). After the American Negro Labor 53 disbanded, it was revived as the LSNR in November, 1930. The LSNR 12 sought to develop a wider-based race advancement movement than was 13 already present in the efforts of the NAACP and Urban League, and to 14 54 bring a greater spectrum of blacks under Communist Party direction. 15 16 When the Scottsboro incident occurred in 1931 involving false charges 17of the rape of two white women, it was the LSNR that “carried” the burthe case in Chicago, although the 18den of the propaganda regarding 55 ILD was the legal arm nationally. The incident unfolded as part of the 19 migration of thousands of unemployed people, white and black, men 20 21and sometimes women, young as well as mature, all seeking work some22where over the horizon. As a freight train reached Scottsboro, Alabama 23with its cars empty except for hobos riding from town to town look24ing for a better life down the tracks, rail personnel stood ready to roust 25and arrest these illegal sojourners. The catch that day included seven 26black youngsters and young males who had occupied the opposite end 27of a boxcar that contained two white girls and their male companions. 28After a scuffle with the white males over control of the space, one end 29of the car belonged to the blacks, who observed southern protocol and 30kept their distance from the whites. At Scottsboro, the discovery of black 31males and white females in close proximity led to the fabricated charges 32against the cluster of unacquainted black males who became known as 33the Scottsboro boys. As the Scottsboro case rose to the level of a national 34cause célèbre representing southern injustice at its worst, it evolved into 35some of the most dramatic, direct confrontations between the Commu36nist Party’s legal wing, the ILD, and the national NAACP. 37 In Chicago, it resulted in series of provocative incidents between A. 38C. MacNeal’s militant Chicago NAACP and local Communists. With 39building discontent over national conditions, economic as well as social, 40the Communists felt emboldened enough to disrupt and attempt to take 41over Scottsboro rallies sponsored by the Chicago NAACP. These meet42ings were held as part of a national effort to free the defendants and were organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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geared toward raising both public sentiment and funds. Harry Haywood considered the case a true test of organizational hegemony over the souls and minds of African Americans, with the Party aiming to benefit the most.56 The effort to organize black trade unionists was carried out by the Trades Union Unity League (TUUL), which had been founded in the twenties. At the beginning of 1930, James A. Ford, a black Chicagoan, postal organizer, and soon-to-be Communist Party vice presidential candidate in 1932, addressed an audience of black workers on the South Side and called for their support in the “new left wing revolutionary center of trade unionism,” the TUUL.57 It sought to build militant, racially integrated workers’ organizations in the steel and textile industries in Chicago. Its most notable affiliate in the city was the Needles Trades Workers Industrial Union. Less than a year from this energetic beginning at the advent of the Depression, the TUUL was being criticized within the party hierarchy because it “was isolated from the masses, employed poor strike strategy, displayed a tendency toward formalism, and exhibited weakness in boring from within the old-line unions.”58 Lastly, the Communists organized youths into the Young Communist League (YCL), comprised of college and pre-college students. It had support at the University of Chicago and was active in the black community in the period before 1932 but even more enthusiastic after that year. These young people often acted as cheerleaders at rallies and attempted to organize school strikes aimed at the elimination of racial discrimination. Chicago newcomer Richard Wright viewed the organizational activities of the Communists with a wry smile. He found the African American recruiters to be poor imitators of Vladimir Lenin in dress, gestures, speech, and especially in their ability to reach the very groups they sought to enlist in their cause. In his occasional visits to Washington Park, he observed the following, which disturbed him greatly: The Negro Communists were deliberately careless in their personal appearance, wearing their shirt collars turned in to make the V’s at their throats, wearing their caps—they wore caps because Lenin had worn caps—with their visor turned backward, tilted upward at the nape of their necks. Many of their mannerisms, pronunciations, and turns of speech were consciously copied from white Communists whom they had recently met. While engaged in conversation, they stuck their thumbs in their suspenders or put their left hands into their shirt bosoms or hooked their thumbs into their back pockets as they had seen Lenin or Stalin do in 110
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1 2 photographs. Though they did not know it, they were naively practicing 3 magic; they thought that if they acted liked the men who had overthrown 4 the czar, then surely they ought to be able to win their freedom in America 5 . . . when speaking from the platform, the Negro Communists, eschew6 ing the traditional gestures of the Negro preacher—as though they did 7 not possess the strength to develop their own style of Communist preach8 ing—stood straight, threw back their heads, brought the edge of the right 9 palm down hammerlike into the outstretched left palm in a series of jerky 10 motions to pound their points home, a mannerism that characterized 59 11 Lenin’s method of speaking. 12 13Overall, Wright felt that any “sensitive Negroes [who] agreed with the 14Communist program [would] refuse because of the shabby quality whom the Communists had already admitted into 15of those Negroes 60 membership. ” When Wright portrayed the African American mind 16 and its relationship to systemic change, he often described it with a brush 17 of conservatism, of having a blind faith in the American Dream and its 18 corresponding way of life. The same feeling is reflected in a fictional con19 versation in one of Wright’s novels. It takes place in a local barbershop 20 21between Jake Jacobs, a postal worker (with a U.S. postal badge glittering 22on his suspenders) resigned to his status in society yet frustrated with 23his life, and Duke, a more deeply frustrated member of the working class 24who had lost faith in America’s attempts at improvement. 25 26 Doc, the barber, pointing to Jake Jacobs: This man’s with Uncle Sam, win, lose, or draw. 27 Duke: He’s losing. 28 29 Jake: Like hell I is! What you think you going to do, overthrow the government? 30 Duke: If we have to, yes. 31 Jake: Nigger, you’d last as long trying to overthrow the government as a 32 fart in a wind storm! 33 Duke: I ain’t alone. There’s millions like me. Maybe not in this country yet, 34 but over in Russia. 35 Jake: Why can’t you red niggers gets some sense in your heads? Don’t you 36 know them Reds is just using you? When they get tired of you they 37 throw you away like a dirty sock!61 38 39 40One can only imagine Jesse Helton’s reactions and interactions had this 41conversation occurred in a real-life barbershop. This fictional conversa42tion portrays a reality found in Helton’s own experiences, one in which organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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still-patriotic African Americans faced the challenge of siding with a nation that offered them little consideration, whose segregated relief stations, postal stations, and Civilian Conservation Corps camps humiliated them with regularity. Despite Wright’s criticisms, the activities of the Communists and their Party-sponsored groups and organizations were both ample and diverse throughout the early Depression period. “To attract the Negro masses the Communists employed such tactics as house-to-house canvasses, literature distribution campaigns, street corner conversations, mass meetings, and demonstrations.”62 They also sponsored interracial dances that often brought whites and blacks together socially for the first time. These activities represented a dangerous endeavor for the Communist Party, for overt racial antagonisms were sure to rise to the surface. In one gathering near the stockyards, one young white Communist female resented an interracial couple dancing and broke the pair up while accusing the white male of “falling” for a “crow jim.”63 Internal conflict over race was a problem that seemed just as irresolvable within the Communist Party as it was within the greater portion of American society. In Chicago, white ethnic and white racial chauvinism competed with a party doctrine that demanded colorblindness.64 Those activities inaugurated by the Communists that brought them into open conflict with governmental authority were especially dramatic. In March 1931, the TUUL presented Mayor Thompson with a petition that claimed to speak for 500,000 workers, demanding that $75 million be raised for unemployment relief; that evictions be stopped; that free gas, electricity, and food be provided to the jobless; that the school-age children of the unemployed be given hot lunches in school; and that blacks be given an equal opportunity to obtain work.65 Timely and fitting as these workers’ demands were, there is no record of any governmental action on them by the Thompson administration. Anton Cermak’s administration was also treated in an adversarial manner by the Communists. The mayor was tried by a mock tribunal at the Odd Fellows Hall on South State Street in November, 1931 for his complicity in promoting what the Communists regarded as police terror. Twelve months later, Herbert Newton, a black Communist running against DePriest for Congress, presented a petition to Cermak in the name of the 50,000 persons who had marched from every section of the city down through the Loop and on to City Hall demanding that the government rescind its order to reduce relief payments to the destitute by 50 percent. Since assistance was needed for a suffering citizenry, Newton demanded limits on relief payment cuts; free gas, water, and fuel; and 112
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1 66 2an end to housing evictions and foreclosures. Despite the enormity of 3the support, the peaceful character of the marchers, and the legitimacy 4of their demands, this march also failed to spur the government into 5action. 6 Marches inspired by Communist propaganda and organized by party 7members brought most black and white workers together in a unified 8cause for the first time in their lives and further served to strengthen 9the Communists’ claim to being staunch supporters of the principle of 10racial egalitarianism. Representative of these marches was an earlier one 11on October 31, 1931, which called on thousands to voice their discontent 12through their marching feet. The Defender reported that “plans are being 13completed to marshal thousands of the city’s unemployed and lead them 14in support of the demands upon the67 city and county treasuries for finan15cial aid for the destitute marchers.” Two lines of marchers, one coming 16from the South Side and the other from the North Side were to converge 17in Union Park (one mile west of the scene of the Haymarket Riot of 1886) 18on the city’s West Side. In April 1932 the Defender reported that “two 19thousand men and women of mixed races and nationalities, represent20ing the Unemployed Council and the Communist Party, marched to the and for a time it was feared the 21Union Stockyards Tuesday afternoon 68 horde would storm the gates. ” Despite the high level of apprehension 22 on the part of the political and police authorities, conflict between the 23 two groups was avoided. 24 25 Acting as a counterweight to the Communists’ success in persuading 26hundreds and sometimes thousands of persons to take to the streets was 27the Chicago Police Department. The police maintained a special unit 28known as the Industrial Squad that was primarily used to quell labor 29disturbances before the Communists’ agitation made use of the streets in 30the thirties. As its duties expanded during the period of the early Depres31sion it became known as the “Red Squad” and appeared to be ubiquitous; 32it was seen throughout the old Black Belt whenever large assemblages of 33protestors gathered. The Communist Party platform of 1932 took note of 34its presence in a section titled “Murderous Police Attacks.” In a condem35natory tone it referred to how “the Democratic Mayor Cermak order[ed] gassing and killing of the black workers on Chicago’s South 36the beating, 69 37Side.” 38 During 1931 and 1932 the Communist Party and its front organizations 39also organized another series of70dramatic street incidents which took 40place in front of welfare stations. The Communists were so dissatisfied 41with the manner in which relief was dispensed, being inadequate and on 42a racially discriminatory basis, that they demanded that they be allowed organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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to have representatives at the relief stations.71 In October 1931, over 1,500 protesters staged a demonstration in front of the United Charities office at 4500 South Prairie Avenue to demand food for the school-age children of unemployed workers. The police dispersed the demonstrators, but not without scuffling that brought injuries to the latter group.72 The Communists planned a number of city-wide protests again in January 1932, when most of the city’s charities had exhausted their funds. One such demonstration was held in front of the welfare station located in the Abraham Lincoln Centre located at 700 East Oakwood Boulevard. Over 300 men and women who belonged to the Unemployed Councils, the LSNR, and the ILD battled police. After the fracas, which resulted in some injuries, the police retaliated by raiding a Communist office there.73 During these encounters, sometimes referred to as “the welfare station riots,” the head of the facility located at 36th and State Streets (in the Overton Building), Mrs. Lillian Proctor Falls, an African American and wife of staunch egalitarian Dr. Arthur G. Falls, was the target of the Unemployed Councils. The aroused crowd shouted not only against the capitalist system, but also its representative with raucous chants of “Lillian Proctor Must Go!”74 This verbal assault on a middle-class professional from a respected Atlanta family indicated the extent to which the Communists had positioned themselves as enemies of the black middle class. The fuel for this resentment was manifested daily. Persons seeking governmental assistance and who visited these offices as clients often sensed a tension from the staff and supervisors, a disdainful attitude they should not have allowed themselves the indignity of being in need. Although Lillian Proctor Falls recalled her compassion for the plight of the dispossessed, not all welfare office personnel shared her sentiments. So, there was no entitlement of any kind forthcoming as a true act of compassion. When Richard Wright ran out of money to feed his mother and brother, he found himself in this situation at one such station. He realized as he marched down to a welfare station that he had entered a new phase in his life’s experiences—as he went there “to plead for bread” he had entered a realm of total dependency. After hours of waiting to be interviewed before a final evaluation was made of his and his family needs, he left the facility committed to raising the level of awareness of people in similar situations, people he had previously thought of as incapable of resisting what they had accepted as their fate. “The day I begged for bread from the city officials was the day that showed me I was not alone in my loneliness [because] society had cast millions of others with me.”75 114
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1 2 The actual exhaustion of relief funding in Chicago and Cook County 3occurred in February 1932. As a consequence, the Illinois General Assem4bly approved the appropriation of millions of dollars to meet the needs 5of the dispossessed. With this action, conditions began to ease substan6tially. The total amount of money spent from both private and public 7sources for the year, $34 million, would be ten times as much as 1930 and 8nearly three times as much as 1931. With this huge financial investment 9to relieve suffering, the Communists began to lose one of the key issues 10from which they could generate protest. 11 Although the Communist Party continued to operate in an economic 12milieu that was conducive to the furtherance of its program, it encoun13tered great ideological difficulties in recruiting blacks into its ranks. This 14befuddled the Communists, because, according to the theory of class should have provided a fertile ground for 15struggle, the Black Metropolis 76 Marxist propaganda. Blacks, however, were committed to advance16 ment along racial lines, and had constructed their ideologies accord17 ingly. Labor organizer and former Communist, Ed Doty, who headed 18 the Chicago Colored Plumbers Protective Association (which was now 19 renamed the Cook County Protective Union), was so intransigent on 20 21this issue of black independence that he was kicked out of the Com77 22munist Party for espousing counterrevolutionary “bourgeois ideals.” 23Blacks, whether integrationists or nationalists, believed sincerely that 24the elimination of racial barriers meant an end to their problems. And, 25whether the protestor was politically oriented or not, racial solidarity 26and group advancement were key components in influencing both their 27actions and thoughts. Relations within Communist Party ranks were differences, with whites mis28strained constantly over this issue of racial 78 29trusting black members and vice versa. 30 Doctrinally devout Communists, on the other hand, viewed Ameri31can racism as being a secondary problem for blacks, that is, as a byprod32uct of the capitalistic exploitation of the working class. Clearly there 33were serious ideological differences that would have had to be reconciled 34before the party could have sizeable success in recruitment. In addition, 35such terms and concepts as the proletariat, the revolution, the dictator36ship of the proletariat, and the international were new and exotic to the 37black masses, “and if they were to become potent factors in guiding black 38action it was necessary that they be associated with aims and ideals of 39the Negro world. The symbols [of the black population were those that] 40furnished an important escape or release for the sufferings, humiliation, 79 41and restraints which were the common lot of most Negroes.” At some 42gatherings, the blacks assembled began the meetings with Christian organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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prayer and songs, much to the displeasure of their doctrinally correct fellow Communists.80 To blacks, advancement meant that they could partake of the bountiful, comfortable, and conflict-free world of bourgeois America. When it came to the economic system that the Communists opposed, many blacks had been ingrained to accept it in its entirety, hardly even thinking that it needed more than the most innocuous reforms. This attitude was exemplified in the aloofness of some blacks toward the Whip’s job campaign and the Street Car Riots of 1930, as well as in their preoccupation with supporting the Republican political organizations that ran the nation and the city and were in positions to have made drastic changes before 1933. Because of the nature of the guiding ideology and program of the Communist Party, which was geared toward dismantling the American economic and political system, the internal structure of its organization differed completely from the Chicago Urban League and the Chicago NAACP. Instead of a board of directors or an executive committee, the leadership of the party “was composed of shop nuclei and of street units of at least three members each.”81 Allegedly aiding them, according to the Chicago Tribune, were twenty-five well-trained organizers who were extremely active on the South Side.82 Party membership among all Chicagoans during the early part of the decade at no time could have exceeded 500 to 600 persons,83 and in fact, this level declined at a time when the economic crisis was worsening. In 1930, following a recruitment drive, the number of blacks dipped to 113.84 Black members were usually young men and women who were in their twenties and thirties, unemployed, educated above the community level, and disillusioned with Christianity.85 By 1931, the Scottsboro case had attracted some very well-educated black persons, including some lawyers and poets, into the Party’s ranks. Claude Lightfoot, now 20 years old and having arrived in Chicago as a youngster during the Great Migration in 1917, had experienced enough of racism and economic exploitation to want to join a movement that would “offer a clear-cut answer to meet the needs of the people.”86 Fledgling 20-year-old writer Richard Wright joined the party as well in 1932. With these recruits, historian Randi Storch fixed the number of black members active in the Communist party at 412 by 1932.87 To a significant degree the Communist genius in assembling and preaching to, but not necessarily converting, the masses accounted for the image that developed that thousands actively belonged to the “comrade’s party.” In a negative vein, the Party found that having a small membership with even a smaller amount of dues being paid meant that its activities were greatly restricted by a lack of funds.88 116
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1 2 In addition, since the Communists were hostile to all of the entrenched 3black civic organizations in the city, including the Chicago Urban League, 4the Chicago NAACP, the Republican Party, and the churches, the recep5tion that the bulk of the black community gave to the Communists as 6activists and racial egalitarians differed from that given to them as advo7cates of Marxism-Leninism. Their support in matters related to secur8ing social and economic justice was accepted while at the same time 9their ideology and leadership on issues that challenged black beliefs and 10allegiances were rejected. Two excellent examples of this tenuous Black 11Metropolis–Communist Party relationship can be found in the recep12tion that the Chicago Defender gave the Communists in its pages and 13in the level of black participation in the 1932 Communist Party national 14political convention held in Chicago. 15 When the Chicago Defender of this period developed a position on what 16would induce it to accept the Communists and their message, it articu17lated three criteria. The Party would have to fight uncompromisingly for 18the civil rights of blacks; it would have to tone down its espousal of its 19doctrine and its activities to be more reform-oriented as opposed to revo20lutionary; and it would have to assume a patriotic line in any positions and 21espousals dealing with foreign policy. What the Defender was demanding 22was that the Party89become a radicalized yet liberal organization in order to 23gain its approval. Since the Party could not change its deterministic views 24in interpreting history and society, and thus would not change its prac25tices in terms of arranging its relationships with defined hostile groups or 26renounce its goal of total change in American society, the relationship was 27never consummated on terms of mutual acceptability. 28 The response to the Communists from the pulpit was compassion29ate but unappreciative of their tactics. Reverend J. C. Austin, who had 30been pastor to the mammoth Pilgrim Baptist Church congregation at 3133rd Street and Indiana Avenue since 1926, felt frustration with the rela32tionship between those who sought change under a divine plan and 33those who urged confrontation. “The Reds get up on their soap boxes in 34Washington Park, preach all day and up to midnight, lie down and sleep 35in the open air and rise up again to preach the next morning,” com36plained Reverend Austin. “I’ve addressed several of the meetings myself ’ but you can’t talk religion to a 37on the subject ‘Christ and Communism, 90 man with an empty stomach. ” The pastor of St. Mark’s Methodist Epis38 copal Church just two blocks east of the eviction shootings of August 3, 39 1931 accused the Communists of invading and commandeering a meet40 41ing dealing with housing inside his church. A major confrontation 91was 42barely avoided as muscular churchmen hustled the intruders aside. organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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The 1932 presidential convention held in Chicago presented the Chicago chapter with an opportunity to present itself as a force for change within the traditional political setting and to measure its appeal to the American electorate, especially the black population. The convention produced a pleasant surprise to black Chicagoans: James W. Ford received the party’s nomination for the vice presidency; he was the first black man to be so honored. To a great many blacks in Chicago, Ford’s selection symbolized a success for their race, although one limited in nature due to his obvious inability to get elected. The Defender took gleeful note of the selection of Ford92 and so did the 5,000 black delegates, alternates, and camp followers at Chicago’s Coliseum, where the convention was held. Some were so ecstatic at his nomination that one black woman among their midst was led to exclaim, “God bless the Communists!”93 Although Ford’s presence on the ticket was a testimony to the party’s equalitarianism quickly noticed by blacks, a reporter on the scene described Ford as a person chosen “not as a vote-catching device but because he was qualified and it coincided with fundamental policy.”94 On the state ticket, Claude Lightfoot ran for the General Assembly and amassed a respectable 33,000 votes.95 In addition to the selection of Ford, which was meant to appeal to blacks on a racial level, the Party’s platform was filled with references to its commitment to racial equality and justice. It called directly for “equal rights for the Negroes and self-determination for the Black Belt (the proposed southern U.S. black populated republic).” Calling for inclusivity, the platform stated “there is room for the organized participation and support of every worker in America, man and woman, white and Negro, without regard to whether he was a member of the Communist Party or not.”96 The full reality of the matter was manifested in the fall, when the Communist Party ticket had to take an inglorious backseat in Chicago’s Black Metropolis to a Republican ticket that was totally insensitive to the pressing economic needs of the people. With its early and successful recruitment within the ranks of the female workers in the needle trades, the Communist Party was able by 1933 to take the lead in the strike against Ben Sopkins and Sons Company in the heart of the black South Side at 39th Street. Effective organizing by the Communist Party and the affiliated CYL helped convince African American workers of the benefits of unionism, and a strike was called for in June, 1933. Perhaps coincidentally or perhaps not, the strike date fell just three days after the National Industrial Relations Act (known as NIRA) was passed by the U.S. Congress guaranteeing the right of workers to engage their employers in collective bargaining. Hundreds of women went on strike at separate locations; 1,500 left their jobs at 118
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1 2the headquarters on 39th. The political establishment responded rou3tinely by sending the Red Squad, which had a well-deserved reputation 4of fomenting violence whenever it97 could to keep demonstrations from 5becoming too large and effective. The African American community 6reacted uncharacteristically by giving widespread support to the strike, sensationalis7from the traditionalist black political establishment to the 98 tic Chicago Defender, to the conservative Urban League. In the end the 8 women won in their struggle, became formally organized and secured 9 higher wages, but under an independent union banner. Farther west 10 in the Stockyard district, around Packingtown where large numbers of 11 unionized ethnic workers lived, the Communists failed in their attempt 12 13to attract the loyalty of black and white packinghouse workers after a because of the strength of their union’s influence over the 14major strike 99 workers. 15 16 17An Antagonistic Relationship 18 The relationship that developed between the most radical of the protest 19 organizations, the Communist Party, and the other major race advance20 ment and protest organizations, the Chicago Urban League and the Chi21 cago NAACP, was as complex as the alignments evolving in the political 22 sphere. The Communist Party declared that the agencies of government 23 were not the only tools of a selfish capitalist clique that was mishandling 24 the plight of the masses in distress, for that category also included the 25 bourgeois organizations that operated within the protest sphere, in this 26 case, the Chicago NAACP and the Chicago Urban League. This indict27 ment of the Association was not unexpected, since throughout the coun28 try “the response of the NAACP and the Communist Party to each other 29 [had] been for the most part hostile.”100 Both organizations sought to lead 30 the black community in the fight against discrimination in all spheres of 31 life and “in the final analysis one organization could succeed only at the 32 expense of the other.”101 33 In Chicago, the NAACP made its position clear to the Communists 34 after they disrupted a protest meeting held in behalf of building support 35 for the nine Scottsboro boys in June 1931. It was determined to fight and 36 planned to prosecute the disrupters in court. Archie L. Weaver received 37 a letter from an officer in the national office that advised him “we shall 38 have to prepare for those fellows. I have made a statement which our office 39 will send to all of our branches warning them of how to prepare against 40 these people who are planning to interfere with NAACP meetings.”102 41 As soon as A. C. MacNeal assumed the presidency in January, 1933 he 42 organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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immediately engaged the Communists over which group would take the helm of leadership in the fight for equal rights. Ideologically, MacNeal seemed attuned to the spirit of the national NAACP’s Amenia Conference of 1933 (of which he was not, however, an invited participant like economist Abram Harris or political scientist Ralph Bunche). There in New York State, a young, vocal faction of the NAACP enunciated the position that economic conditions were so pressing that the organization had no other choice but to adopt a program geared toward solving the day-to-day problems affecting the nation’s black citizens. This would have involved not only a program of integrating the black population into the nation’s social fabric but also into its economic mainstream. Fearless in the face of the rhetorical criticism and slanderous propaganda the Communists could mount, MacNeal deliberately adopted a provocative logo showing a muscular black man with his arms stretched overhead and breaking the chains that had enslaved him. The lettering above the emancipated figure clearly indicated it was the NAACP that claimed responsibility for this liberating act and as clearly enunciated that it was consistent with the Association’s commitment to justice for all. MacNeal was just as quick to share the thinking behind his idea with Walter White. “All of our future literature will carry these cuts. I am sure it will bring some confusion to the minds of those who are being led into [the] Communist’s ranks. It looks like their weird drawings.”103 Fully aware of Communists’ intentions and tactics, MacNeal remained vigilant to make sure that any moves toward unity between the two organizations over civil rights issues did not lead to any subordination or takeover of the branch.104 Over the course of the next five years, the Communists found they had more than met their match in this zealot who advocated securing the “whole loaf ” of total inclusion into the American mainstream. Programmatically, MacNeal was determined to match the Communists with a branch-based, activist-oriented course of action aimed at breaking the racist job ceiling that prevented blacks from securing jobs both in the public and private sectors. When the U.S. government promised work in the nation’s early reforestation program, MacNeal was sure that the proper officials were made aware of the need for fairness in hiring. As dauntless as MacNeal was in criticizing Sears, Roebuck, and Company over its downtown shoe store policy that was discriminatory toward black women shoppers, he was just as adamant that the giants A&P and Jewel Food chains make jobs available to African American male workers. Linking with black state legislators, MacNeal and the Chicago NAACP collaborated with State Representative William E. King to 120
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1 2introduce a bill that impacted contractors and their hiring throughout 3the state. The expansion of job opportunities was to be mandated by 4law, and the branch alerted African Americans throughout Illinois to their legislators of whatever racial identity to vote for the King 5pressure 105 Bill. 6 7 As would be expected of a business-oriented organization, the Chi8cago Urban League was also in a position diametrically opposite to that 9of the Communists. One League board officer stated that the Communecessarily the 10nists disliked the moderate tactics of the League, but not 106 ameliorative program of its board and staff members. The League had 11 established itself as perhaps the most effective civic organization on the 12 13South Side that could help the residents there in times of crisis, and, 107 14according to the board member, the Communists respected it for that. 15The League’s conservatism was obvious in 1933, but as the decade pro16gressed, it likewise became more and more involved in militant economic 17activities directly related to solving problems at their points of origin. 18And the question of pursuing full citizenship rights did not disappear 19even if economic conditions were severe. This problem is explored next. 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 organized protest responses—from militant to revolutionary
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five
Organized Efforts in Behalf of Civil Rights
I, personally, am ready to abandon everything that is Jim Crow because it has certainly been proven that “we can by being separate demonstrate our greatness and break down the barriers” is a washout. It has reinforced the barriers. I am committed to the “whole loaf or none at all” policy. The half loaf is getting too small via the Jim Crow and separatist route. —A. C. MacNeal, Chicago NAACP president
From previous discussions, it might appear that the only activities in the Black Metropolis during the early Depression were economic in character. However, not all problems or interests in the faltering Black Metropolis were economic, or even derived from economic root causes. In fact, there were activities that involved campaigns against civil rights violations, police brutality, exclusion from the planned world’s fair, and housing restrictions. Though it was out of step early, at least programmatically, in economic protest, the Chicago NAACP took the lead in non-economic activism. This effort occurred while the black focus during these transformative years remained steadily fixed on economic solutions to material problems. At the same time, the NAACP’s focus on realizing full citizenship rights and leveling the playing field of competitive employment opportunities never faltered. The goal of improving economic conditions and that of seeking full opportunities to advance materialistically while enjoying the rights of American citizenship together formed a dual agenda that divided group energies. Under the leadership of A. C. MacNeal, who was fresh from relative victory as a guiding force in the Chicago Whip’s Woolworth’s campaign, the Chicago NAACP embarked on a course that elevated its ideological 122
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1 2goals to the apex of black racial expectations in regard to the attainment 3of full citizenship rights. The branch now pursued an agenda that called 4for a complete refusal to compromise in the face of discrimination. In 5the past, national egalitarian spokesman W. E. B. Du Bois could call for 6unity and deferral of emphasis on civil rights, as he did during the First 7World War. However, the new generation was not going to accept this 8deferral to a larger national agenda. It was the extreme egalitarian ideol9ogy of “whole loaf or none at all” that garnered attention if not wholesale 10popular support. Of course, to MacNeal, none at all was not an accept11able approach; only securing the whole loaf would suffice. 12 13Police Brutality and Civil Rights 14 Before MacNeal’s ascension to leadership, in January, 1930, the Chi15 cago branch reported that it was actively pursuing its program in behalf 16 of cases involving “bus discrimination, public schools, public bathing 17 beaches, help of servants from the South, public places of accommoda18 tion [sic], etc.”1 In January 1931, it again laid claim to the “great accom19 plishments of the branch” in those areas.2 20 The issue of violations of citizens’ rights by the police was and always 21 had been a sore point in black Chicago.3 However, it was neither reported 22 extensively in the newspapers that circulated in the Black Belt nor was 23 it a topic that generated a protest crusade. Why this was the case is not 24 known; moreover, over the years its historical significance has been 25 underestimated. The fact was that the police were known to run rough26 shod over black citizens whenever they pleased.4 Evidently though, the 27 advent of the Cermak political regime in February 1931 exacerbated the 28 image in the popular mind of the policeman as a “Cossack.” Cermak—a 29 non-WASP, Democrat, and Bill Thompson’s replacement as mayor—had 30 a blind spot that prevented him from seeing the African American com31 munity as one that included diverse lifestyles, the overwhelming major32 ity of which were legitimate and moral. His famous crackdown on the 33 policy racket in 1931 seemed to be both a continuous blanket raid on the 34 entire community and, to many blacks at least, retaliation against the 35 overwhelming number of blacks who had been steadfast supporters of 36 Republicanism over the years. 37 The NAACP’s Legal Redress Committee responded vigorously in 38 this matter, in contrast to its stance on evictions and the subsequent 39 housing riots, matters it saw as outside of its purview. While admitting 40 that gambling and policy raids were justified, the committee noted that 41 “police officers have taken upon themselves to break into homes, beat up 42 organized efforts in behalf of civil rights
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citizens and search people on the streets without probable cause or legal process.”5 Perhaps one of the most important factors to note is that the type of citizen being abused was the homeowner, the businessman, and members of the middle classes. The killing of a black man, Walter Collins, in his own home by a police officer was a cause of alarm for black Chicagoans in 1930. This was the twelfth in a series of South Side killings by police officers in a relatively short span of time. It had a geographically far-reaching impact; the national office developed an interest after an expression of concern about the matter from the Detroit NAACP.6 As a result, the Chicago branch began a probe of the shooting “with a doggedness and determination without parallel” and with a promise from branch president, Dr. Herbert Turner, to carry the case to its just conclusion. Turner was especially disturbed by the situation because it appeared that the killing of a black man somehow resulted in police department promotions.7 In 1931, the Legal Redress Committee continued its activities and was prominent in the investigation of a case involving the January 1931 pistolwhipping of a black shopkeeper, Ernest T. Draine. The businessman ran afoul of some overzealous law enforcement officials while attempting to keep a pledge to a neighboring businessman to protect his property while the man was away for an extended period. An altercation with police officers at the neighbor’s property left Draine beaten, humiliated, and subsequently arrested on charges of drunkenness and resisting arrest. Immediately following the arrest, a trial judge at the 48th Street Police Station refused to prosecute Draine because of the ludicrous nature of the charges brought against him.8 This matter involving an excessive use of force was taken before a civil service commission hearing two months later, and because of what appeared to be “political influence,” the officers were exonerated. Undaunted, the branch was determined to see this case through to its end. Joining with the NAACP in what now was assuming the appearance of a crusade were the Chicago Defender, always a staunch advocate of the protection of civil rights, and the Cook County Bar Association. The latter had been established two decades previously to afford African American lawyers an avenue for professional advancement denied them by the all-white Chicago Bar Association. What especially incensed attorney Earl B. Dickerson of the Legal Redress Committee was how politics and subterfuge had been used to defeat justice. His feelings were based on the fact that the original trial judge had tried to get Dickerson and others to agree not to press charges against the officers before the civil service commission.9 124
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1 2 Pinstripe protest supplemented the variety brewing in the streets. To 3stimulate better race relations, the Chicago Urban League approved the 4formation within its ranks of the Interracial Committee in 1932. Assum5ing leadership was Dr. Arthur G. Falls (who then in his late twenties also of the League), with architect Charles 6headed the De Saible Men’s Society 10 B. Duke as his vice president. The Committee aggressively pushed for 7 equal rights in a manner never before seen in the League’s short history. 8 9Falls recounted that “Whereas MacNeal of the NAACP was for integra10tion, he had no program” through which to implement the goal. The 11Urban League did have a workable program through its Interracial Com11 12mission, which was unfortunately derailed internally at a later date. 13 Despite Dr. Falls’s assessment of the Chicago NAACP and MacNeal, 14the latter’s “Whole Loaf or None” campaign was as dynamic as could 15be imagined. MacNeal’s insistence on rejecting compromise of any kind 16in the civil rights arena placed him on a collision course with Commu17nists and just about every other individual and group he had occasion to Old 8th 18encounter. In his quest for ideological purity even the legendary 12 Regiment became a target because of its all-black composition. And the 19 world’s fair beginning in May 1933 provided yet another opportunity for 20 21MacNeal and the Chicago NAACP, always on the alert for a good fight, 22to crusade for justice and equality. 23 24A Century of Progress 25 The Chicago world’s fair of 1933, officially named A Century of Progress 26 (ACOP), was devoted to scientific achievement around the globe, but to 27 African Americans, progress had a human face as well. The fair was to 28 be a litmus test for how far the nation had advanced in its treatment of 29 its darker brethren. In meeting the economic, the social, and the com30 plex of interlocking political and ideological challenges that were antici31 pated once the plan for the fair was publicly announced, black Chicago 32 organized into a well-coordinated crusade for civil rights involving all 33 socioeconomic classes and many political and ideological circles. Impor34 tantly, unlike in the case of the 1893 fair, ACOP’s white administrative 35 and financial leadership reached out to the African American commu36 nity with an offer of collaboration in funding the exposition; this hap37 pened as early as the spring of 1928.13 The Black Metropolis’s financial 38 titans, Robert S. Abbott and Jesse Binga, received offers to finance the 39 fair ostensibly recognizing them as members of the general Chicagoland 40 business community. They refused, however, based on assessments of 41 their own limited resources at the time.14 42 organized efforts in behalf of civil rights
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In another direction, two important groups made entreaties to the fair’s management early on in order to establish a relationship that would result in favorable conditions for blacks wishing to participate in and attend the fair. Composed of black professionals and businessmen, the De Saible Men’s Club of the Chicago Urban League had organized under the leadership of Dr. Arthur G. Falls. Middle, middling, and workingclass women likewise had organized the National De Saible Memorial Society under the leadership of Mrs. Annie E. Oliver, the wife of a local physician. Both groups were superseded and partially absorbed into a major collaborative effort among African Americans that operated under the auspices of the Colored Citizens World’s Fair Council (CCWFC), a body that could rightly claim the active support of the Chicago NAACP, the Chicago Urban League, fraternal orders, neighborhood clubs, African American politicians from both political parties, and many other groups. While the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893 had involved the near-total exclusion of blacks from planning, this fair assumed a different image in the minds of Chicago’s black population as the dimensions of their involvement in economic, social, and combined political and ideological matters broadened. Albeit in relative terms and in accordance with the reality of the day, African Americans were to have influence over the shape of the fair. As the opening of the exposition neared, memories of negative experiences from the previous fair permeated the black community, even for those too young to have experienced the real and imagined slights of yesteryear. Albert G. Barnett was the son of two prominent protesters from that period, Ferdinand and Ida B. Wells-Barnett (who contributed two of the four segments in the famed pamphlet, “Why the Colored American Is Not in The World’s Columbian Exposition”). He expressed a point of view that fed the protest tradition in a century-long civil rights struggle under the byline “Race Had No Part In Chicago Fair Of 1893” in the Chicago Defender. Barnett’s tone and use of selective historical data indicated that blacks had been totally excluded from participating in the administration of the 1893 event, denied employment, discriminated against once they reached the fairgrounds, and generally relegated to a second-class experience.15 The journalist’s reliance on the famed pamphlet coauthored by his parents allowed him the leeway to avoid the reality that African American initiative, agency, and persistence did indeed win a place for blacks at the World’s Columbian Exposition, a place consistent with their resources, influence, and power during the period. African Americans participated in major conferences, exhibited paintings and educational accomplishments, worked in clerical and service positions, and enjoyed 126
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1 2themselves immensely as full participants. In terms of these experiences, 3the black community16 did have relatively significant degree of involve4ment in the 1893 fair. Nonetheless, the pamphlet, which was published 5before the event actually opened, had taken a dim view. Albert G. Bar6nett’s essay of 1933 influenced Defender reporter Dewey R. Jones’s post7fair summary, so he argued in the same vein. Jones wrote, 8 9 The Fair was a white man’s proposition, and the white man ran it to 10 suit himself. While there was no discrimination shown by Fair officials as 11 regards to members of the Race as far as gate admissions and treatment 12 were concerned, concessionaires showed a definite disregard for money 13 when offered to them by dark hands. Especially was this true in the case of 17 14 certain restaurants. 15 16 In the minds of Dr. Arthur and Mrs. Lillian Proctor Falls, the rec17ognition and enjoyment of citizenship (or singular nationality, that of 18being an American rather than a Negro American) assumed paramount 19importance in any discussion of African American representation at the 20fair. Any suggestion of an ideology of dual identities was disparaged: 21 22 My wife and I have always thought of ourselves as citizens of the United 23 States and as such we rejected any attempts, from whatever racial quarter 24 they originated, to separate blacks from the mainstream of American life. 25 From those days to contemporary times, I have refused to consider myself 26 a colored Catholic among Catholics, a colored physician among my peers 18 27 at medical conventions, or any other such designation of distinctiveness. 28 29Appropriately, Dr. Falls’s De Saible Men’s group transformed into the 30Interracial Committee of the Chicago Urban League and went on to hold 31a major, and seemingly successful, two-day conference on June 20 and 21 32to deal with ways of improving race relations. 33 At restaurants throughout the fairgrounds, acts of discrimination 34consisting in a failure to recognize or serve blacks could occur at any 35time. The Fallses had the unpleasant experience of being denied service 36at the Century Grill just opposite the General Motors Building. Dr. Falls 37complained to the manager immediately and threatened to sue under the 38Illinois law which prohibited such treatment of citizens. He subsequently 39contacted the head of the fair, Colonel Rufus C. Dawes, seeking resolu40tion of this affront. Dawes responded immediately to the Fallses, and his was to issue a threat of removal from the 41reaction to the concessionaire 19 fairgrounds altogether. As the Fallses recalled the moment, “You could 42 organized efforts in behalf of civil rights
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never take anything for granted once you entered the fairgrounds. Discrimination could occur at any concession or place of accommodation. You had to be alert at all times to protect your rights as a citizen.”20 Practices of this type by private concessionaires had been anticipated by the CCWFC and state-level politicians, who worked quickly to introduce legislation to put an end to them.21 One of the most offensive concessions found on the fairgrounds (and indeed throughout the nation) was the racially humiliating African Dip. “The Dip was a version of the African Dodger which allowed a ball thrower to hit a bull’s eye which could cause a black man to be dunked in water, feet first.”22 Interracial taunting by both the ball thrower and the dunked man were commonly used as a means to stimulate business. At the Old Plantation Show, stereotypic, slave-like behavior in music and dance provided blacks with jobs, but also provided an opportunity for bigoted fairgoers to keep negative racial images alive. Despite the impediments to employment, enjoyment, and involvement, the level of black participation in A Century of Progress, 1933– 1934, exceeded that of the 1893 fair. This was accomplished even with the economic limits placed on spending by the depression and because of the fair’s extended, two-year run into 1934. Overall, the fair attracted 39 million spectators. One family that traveled en masse to witness the fair’s examples of progress and wonderment was the Slaughter clan— slightly less than a dozen people, including relatives from Chicago and northern Kentucky. The youngest member of the entourage was preteen John D. Slaughter of Covington, Kentucky, who along with his mother, Mrs. Beryl Trimble Slaughter, witnessed marvels that stuck in his memory into the twenty-first century. After seeing everything from exhibits extolling scientific breakthroughs to displays of electrical magic to the eye-popping $1.2 million Sky Ride, young Mr. Slaughter left the city determined to return as soon as possible. Before he fulfilled the latter wish, he amazed his friends back in Covington, Kentucky with stories of what he had beheld.23 For Mrs. Lillian Harris of Battle Creek, Michigan, who was pictured on the front page of the Pittsburgh Courier, the experience of the visiting the fair was summed up with the commonly heard refrain, “It was marvelous!”24 For Lillian O’Neill Neal, who participated at the De Saible Cabin; for John Titus and Louis James, who worked at food concessions; for Charles Davis Sr., who strolled the fairgrounds when his finances allowed; and for the Fallses, who courageously braved a single insult, the fair was a marvelous experience and did serve as an indicator of a modicum of progress. Their recollection was unanimous in that “the fair was impressive 128
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1 2and except for the cases of restaurant discrimination, no flagrant dis3criminatory acts [occurred]”—or at least were personally encountered. 4 In its social dimensions the fair unfortunately supported discrimina5tion and ridicule at restaurants as well as in entertainment venues on 6the fairgrounds. On public space at beaches on the 12th and 63rd Street 7lakefronts a coordinated campaign was implemented by racist whites to 8enforce segregation of the races in direct violation of municipal code and 9state law. Various methods were employed. At the 63rd Street beach, seg10regating the races was to be achieved through the erection of a steel fence 11extending from Lake Shore Drive down to the water’s edge, and then 12through steel rods strategically placed outward into the water. It was left 13to the acerbic A. C. MacNeal to place the situation on the beaches into 14perspective. As the Hyde Park Herald, reporting the efforts of whites to 15prevent racial contact on the beaches, chose to call the proponents of 16non-discrimination “a dangerous radical, communistic minority bent 17on making trouble,” President MacNeal issued his own response to the 18attempt to foment “disorders.” He wrote to the fair’s Colonel Robert 19Isham Randolph, the director of operations, “We feel sure that if Chi20cago is to properly reflect 100 years of progress, it can ill afford to have a which will surely come if agitation of 21tragic repetition of the 1919 riots, 25 the type referred to continues. ” Meantime, the Chicago Urban League 22 daily monitored the beaches, while the CCWFC led the fight by creating 23 an alliance of black elected officials with political leverage.26 24 25 MacNeal’s reference to the race riot of 1919 was potent because of his 26past involvement. In the aftermath of that crisis, the responses of the 27court system resulted in a clear-cut maladministration of justice. The 28Cook County States Attorney bowed initially to political pressures from 29whites in authorizing the indictment of 154 blacks but no whites to a 30grand jury. The Chicago branch had exerted its prerogative as a legal 31redress body and headed a successor organization, the Committee to 32Secure Equal Justice for Colored Riot Defendants, to challenge this mal33administration of justice. A. C. MacNeal acted as the committee coor34dinator. Ironically, he was later to be named as a defendant by the states 35attorney’s office. Both MacNeal’s zeal and skills proved invaluable. His and damning 36assessment of the violent tragedy showed itself to be acute 27 37to those forces seeking to block justice from prevailing. 38 39The Restrictive Covenant in Housing 40 Even as African Americans put their energies toward ensuring more equal 41 participation in the world’s fair, they continued to be denied equal access 42 organized efforts in behalf of civil rights
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to housing. The explosive increase in restrictive covenants, first appearing in recorded history in 1927, was one of the most insidious dimensions of the housing crisis during this period. In addition to the Association’s concern with possible violations against the civil rights of black Chicagoans, it was the restriction of housing opportunities for upwardly mobile blacks that in particular held the Chicago NAACP’s attention during this period. The scope of the housing problem was immense and extended beyond individual inability to pay rent followed by the threat of subsequent eviction. The Black Metropolis by 1930 was overcrowded, filled with dilapidated housing, and prevented from territorial expansion. Its natural growth to the south, southwest, and east was impeded by hostile white communities which viewed the arrival of even upwardly mobile blacks into their neighborhoods with alarm. This hostility on the part of some whites toward blacks had been a feature of residential life in Chicago since the city’s founding. In 1930 the Chicago NAACP was alerted to the use of another form of direct action against blacks besides the restrictive covenant: a boycott of all black workers who were employed in the Hyde Park community but who lived outside the confines of the black community.28 This was a tactic of the Hyde Park Property Owners Association, which asked apartment house and hotel owners in Hyde Park to refuse to hire or retain blacks found living outside their designated racial enclave farther west. Awareness of this boycott movement left the Chicago NAACP filled with alternating feelings of outrage, consternation, and resolve. The severity of the situation prompted the director of branches to warn sternly, “this and other attempts makes all the more clear the utter hopelessness of the Negro’s fate unless he will organize in sufficient numbers to combat these attempts to debar him from even earning a living and living decently.”29 By 1931, the NAACP obtained a copy of the dreaded covenant used by the Hyde Parkers. Upon examination, the legal problem was found to be so complicated and funds so scarce that the Chicago branch was told by the New York national office to limit its activities for the present to the gathering of information pertinent to the different types of residential segregation in force with the possibility of using this data to plan an effective legal campaign in the future.30 In the area adjacent to Hyde Park and south of the Black Metropolis lay the Washington Park subdivision of Woodlawn. As early as 1928 the Woodlawn’s Business Men’s Association and the University of Chicago reached an agreement to halt black movement into the area.31 The black population in 1920 was virtually non-existent and by 1930 was a miniscule .07 percent, but still it was a source of concern to whites. In 1931, 130
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1 2blacks had moved to the west side of the 6000 block of South Park Ave3nue, across the street from the subdivision. The next year, much to the 4chagrin of the signatories of the Woodlawn covenant, blacks had crossed 5the street. However, the subdivision was still predominantly white and 6for the early part of the decade would remain so. Breaking this ring of 7residential restriction, in 1937 the family of Carl A. Hansberrry moved 8into a two-story, brick structure at 6028 South Rhodes Avenue. 9 The obstacles confronting the NAACP had grown rapidly. At the 10advent of the Depression decade the city had 39.6 percent of all the coveDuring the Depression decade another 11nants it would ever have in force. 32 37.4 percent would be added. Other important factors accounted for 12 this impressive growth. White realty groups surreptitiously aided white 13 neighborhood groups while avoiding a direct organizational link.33 14 city government looked with favor at the use of the cov15The Chicago 34 enant. The threat that the restrictive covenant presented was too new 16 to be effectively challenged by civil rights advocates at this point in the 17 decade, but a vigorous response from protest forces, led by the NAACP, 18 was to come later in the decade. Finally, the Hansberry case reached the 19 U.S. Supreme Court, and the court decided in 1940 (Hansberry v. Lee) 20 21against the validity of the particular covenant in force in the Washington 22Park subdivision of the Woodlawn community. Within eight years, the 23high court invalidated the use of all covenants nationally. 24 Amid this contention and the ravages of economic distress, the flame 25of creativity in the arts remained somewhat brilliant, almost oblivious at 26times to greater realities. What level of cultural dynamism persisted is 27discussed in the following chapter. 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 organized efforts in behalf of civil rights
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six
Cultural Stirrings and Conclusion
Chicago always sounded like the most glamorous place in the world. By the time I got there in 1930, it glittered even more [emphasis added]. —Duke Ellington
The eclipse of the economic prosperity of the previous decade could not halt the explosion of creative energy radiating from the old Black Metropolis. Despite the formidable pall the Depression cast over other aspects of life, art had the power to overcome economics. There were signs of despair and dislocation, to be sure, caused by the latter’s impact. One notable example was the old Royal Gardens Cabaret on East 31st Street that had been converted into a shelter for the homeless. Despite the disruptions and deprivations of the economic situation, the cultural scene defied reality with an outburst of vitality. The Chicago Defender stood as the barometer of this creative spirit. Its pages throughout the early New Deal period were filled with ads promoting the excitement of a theatrical world that belied any hint of the collapse affecting society in general. Meanwhile, the Regal Theater that had been opened in 1928 to attract the southward demographic shift of the black community represented another indicator of the survivability of creative production on stage and in film. Even though the consumer base for entertainment was adversely affected by economic conditions, moviegoers in Chicago still attended theaters such as the Regal, as did moviegoers nationally. Technology advanced, producing talking movies, whose downside was that they eliminated the need for massive amounts of live music, resulting in fewer jobs for theater musicians.1 Meanwhile, saloon and tavern entertainment persisted. The enthusiasm of Duke 132
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1 2Ellington stood as a dramatically positive testimony to Chicago’s vitality 3no matter how adverse the extant circumstances. 4 5Music 6 Throughout the black South Side the performing arts thrived despite 7 economic distress, illustrating the unevenness of deprivation. Jazz was 8 transforming to meet popular interests as swing music became domi9 nant. Aesthetic bright spots continued to appear, illustrating that the 10 link between any art form and economics was tenuous at best. Louis 11 “Satchmo” Armstrong advised trumpeter and band leader Floyd Camp12 bell that if he wanted work, there was only one place to go. Campbell 13 recalled: 14 15 When I finally came to Chicago on May 9, 1930, there was plenty of work 16 for musicians. I used to say that there were at least one hundred and ten 17 full-time musicians working on salaries of up to seventy-five dollars a 18 week within a one block radius of 47th Street and South Parkway. There 19 were two bands at the Regal Theater and three large orchestras working 20 at the Savoy Ballroom. Bud Byron’s ten-piece band was working at Chin 21 Chow’s Restaurant on the second floor at 4709 South Parkway, and across 22 the boulevard at the Metropolitan Theater there was Erskine Tate’s large 23 pit symphony orchestra. Chicago was a musician’s town.2 24 25 Duke Ellington lived through these same times in the city. He remi26 nisced, “Chicago always sounded like the most glamorous place in the 27 world. By the time I got there in 1930, it glittered even more . . . the Loop, 28 the cabarets . . . city life, suburban life, luxurious neighborhoods—and 29 apparently broken-down neighborhoods where there were more good 30 times than any place in the city [emphasis added].”3 So, at least the music 31 of the jazz bands continued to brighten up what was generally a demor32 alizing atmosphere. Blues continued its ascent into popularity, and a new 33 musical form from the religious world, gospel, was poised to make its 34 debut. 35 Following the death of both his child and wife during childbirth, blues 36 pianist Thomas A. Dorsey underwent a religious conversion. Inspired to 37 compose the stirring “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” in the time of per38 sonal distress, he wrote in praise of God and His blessings. After a stint 39 at Ebenezer Baptist Church as its musician, Dorsey moved to the Pil40 grim Baptist Church located several miles to the north, which housed a 41 more conducive environment for musical innovation. After the popular 42 cultural stirrings and conclusion
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Reverend Junius C. Austin invited Dorsey to bring his Ebenezer Baptist Gospel Chorus to sing at Pilgrim Baptist Church in December, 1932, gospel music was on its way.4 By the mid-thirties, radio played its part as an innovating medium by introducing religious music onto the airwaves, where it was heard with great appreciation by a rural-oriented, spiritually impassioned audience.5 Letters
Other components of the arts also seemed too entrenched as part of the core culture to falter amid the economic crisis. In-migration brought new life to Chicago’s slow but growing literary scene. The literary world soon welcomed the genius of author Richard Wright, who had earlier arrived in the city from Mississippi, in 1927. He honed his writing skills by contributing to Abbot’s Monthly. Though he never received his pay for his original piece for Abbott after the journal disappeared in 1933 because of the economy, there was reason for hope in the future. Abbott contemplated publishing a second black-oriented arts and culture magazine, Reflexus (“Reflects Us”). This proved, however, to be a pipe dream. Within a decade though, Richard Wright’s writing would inaugurate a black literary movement propelled toward prize-winning greatness in letters. Meanwhile, future writer and sociologist Horace Cayton arrived in Chicago in 1931 also, from the opposite corner of the country, Seattle. The itinerant Langston Hughes was back in Chicago again, and future black literary development looked especially bright with his contributions to the period. He was the first writer to examine the effect of the Great Migration on the newcomers’ lifestyles and how they adjusted to big-city life, in his Not Without Laughter (1930).6 The two-person family of Mrs. Gertrude Johnson and her son, John, arrived in the city in 1933 from Arkansas. In young John Johnson’s mind, he had arrived in a haven of hope, potential, and realization.7 Within a decade the ambitious Johnson would realize the first phase of his dreams with a publication that would form the foundation for his future publishing empire. Chicago was soon acting as an incubator for inquisitive thought and serious letters as the George Cleveland Hall Branch of the Chicago Public Library opened in 1932 under the directorship of bibliophile and Chicago native Vivian G. Harsh, the first African American to head a branch within the city.8 The opening of the Hall Branch in 1932 brought good times and a salutary venue for the African American literati. Under the urging of civic leader Dr. George Cleveland Hall, philanthropist Julius Rosenwald was persuaded to fund the construction of the first free 134
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1 2standing library in the Black Metropolis. Architecturally, the structure 3matched an interior ambience that provided inspiration and informa4tion from its African American collection to writers who desired both to 5research their subjects and jot down on paper their immediate thoughts 6on any topic. Totally unlike the “Niggerati manor” described in Wallace 7Thurmond’s Infants of the Spring as pretentious and grasping at status, 8the Hall Branch came to accommodate the likes of Langston Hughes, 9Richard Wright, Arna Bontemps, Gwendolyn Brooks, Horace R. Cayton, 10and others who collegially shared ideas while researching the subjects of 11their writings at the facility. In 1933, Harsh inaugurated a book forum to 12further stimulate thought and writing as part of a continuing effort to 13build a black literary foundation in Chicago. Labeled the Book Review 14and Lecture Forum, it was meant to serve as a public-based salon for 15ideas and fellowship in critical thinking. 16 Beyond the walls of the Hall Library, chronicling African American 17history in Chicago represented a part of this cultural and literary stir18ring as much as novel writing. Honoring the achievements of previous 19generations of African Americans was of primary importance in order 20to acknowledge of their place in the city’s history. Both individuals and 21institutions undertook the task. For its part, the Chicago Defender inau22gurated a series written by its features reporter, A. N. Fields, beginning 23with its edition of October 1, 1932. Out of a sense of historical sensitiv24ity as to the importance of chronicling African American history, Fields 25explained his aims in the October 29, 1932 issue and repetitively in the 26editor’s note: “Don’t fail to read ‘Chicago Yesterday, Today and Tomor27row.’ These articles will be found not only authentic but informative as 28well. They will cover a period of 50 years, dealing with political facts 29largely unknown by the present generation.” In addition, 30 31 . . . out of the memory and from the limited history of recorded events, 32 interesting details are being brought to light of Chicago early settlers—sto33 ries of hope and ambition and the courage of a people who were endeav34 oring to seek a place for themselves and for their posterity. The history of 35 early Chicago reads like a romance to one who attempts to make a mental 36 journey through the stirring events of the past 50 years or more of Race 9 37 life in this great cosmopolitan center. 38 39Paralleling this institutional effort was Franklyn Henderson’s dedication 40to his personal mission of preserving the legacy of the Atkinson family 41and that of the Old Settlers of nineteenth century Chicago. Henderson’s 42personal crusade to preserve documents and photographs paved the way cultural stirrings and conclusion
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for future generations to both see and read about the collective role African Americans played in building the city that became cosmopolitan Chicago.10 Writing the history of the role that blacks had played in building Chicago had been a project that another member of the city’s first families, Joanna Hudlin Snowden, had assumed. Unfortunately, her efforts went uncompleted during her lifetime. It was this writing project, along with one envisioned by Chicago NAACP stalwart Archie L. Weaver, that inspired the present writer to finish both projects.11 Significantly, black literary Chicago was on the cusp of its “Renaissance,” although it was really an initial birth rather than a rebirth.12 Meanwhile, in the sphere of the visual arts, Chicago’s dean of painting, William Edouard Scott, “completed thirty murals for the field houses in the Chicago park district and forty murals for Chicago churches.”13 At the World’s Fair, local artist Charles C. Dawson unveiled his oil painting entitled “Exodus” as part of the National Urban League exhibit located in the Social Services building. It anchored, or more accurately, centered on a three-panel exhibit on the historic obstacles and accomplishments of African Americans. Middle-class artists had arrived as an artistic element in the city in their own right. A Century of Progress Brightens the Horizon
The anticipated World’s Fair of 1933 offered still another diversion from the gloominess of the period as well as a chance to see the world at the city’s doorstep, impressive Lake Michigan. African Americans observed a certain level of apprehension toward the event that was prudent, for there were challenges encountered that extended beyond the racism affecting employment and into the cultural issue of representation of “the African personality” in exhibits and concessions. As the final plans for A Century of Progress got underway, African Americans faced continuing frustrations over issues of accurate cultural representation in exhibits at the event as well as discrimination in employment and public accommodations. The prelude to the fair featured early, effective black protest against racist injustice and employment discrimination along with successful collaborative negotiations to position African Americans in a favorable light—all as early as 1927.14 The attention and response these actions garnered created a situation that was somewhat similar to the collective African American experience during the first Chicago world’s fair in 1893. Just as in that case, however, the three primary foci of the African American concerns were still ideological, social, and economic when it came to employment and operating concessions as business ventures. 136
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1 2 The complicated and highly contentious political and ideological 3problem of racial representation was confronted early by various groups 4and in three significant areas. First, there was the campaign to recognize 5the municipal contribution of Chicago city founder, Haitian Jean Bap6tiste Pointe De Saible (currently referred to as Du Sable in the twenty7first century). Next, Africa would be represented, but in such a manner 8that its culture and history appeared in an objective light rather than in 9demeaning European characterizations and stereotypes. Then, African 10Americans nationally, and not just black Chicagoans, had to decide on 11the appropriateness of having a “Negro Day” and what shape it would 12take. 13 The thinking of African Americans for generations before the Eman14cipation had involved the tension between balancing a desired and then 15an attained American nationality (through the enjoyment of citizenship 16rights) against a racial identity revolving around a cultural base in West 17African traditions. One version of this duality was explored by Du Bois 18in 1903 in his classic work, The Souls of Black Folk, where he wrote of an 19“American-ness” being challenged by another impulse, a “Negro-ness.” 20The significance of West African culture for African Americans had 21been fueled by the success of Booker T. Washington’s Tuskegee model 22(which appealed even to some westernized Africans), the glorification of 23all things black by Marcus Garvey’s UNIA, Du Bois’s NAACP program 24supporting Pan-Africanism, and the black churches’ extensive mission25ary activities in Africa that linked the future of the black race to a united 26effort involving all persons of African descent. 27 The tension between desire for inclusion and desire to maintain cul28tural distinctiveness was therefore deeply ideological in character, and 29manifested in a three-tiered challenge to the fair’s planners. First, there 30was the issue of emigration versus remaining in America, as seen in the 31famed Conference on Africa held during the 1893 fair. Those favoring a 32historical appreciation of the African past promoted the idea through 33several proposed concessions. Second, this vortex of duality raised ques34tions about how to present Chicago founder Jean Baptiste Pointe De Sai35ble to the general public. Was it to be as an15 African/Franco/Haitian hero, 36or the perpetual father of all Chicagoans? And, finally, the issue of aspi37rations for recognition of a national citizenship was once again counter38balanced against an ethnic distinctiveness with a Negro Day, reminisColored American day, just as it had been forty 39cent of the controversial 16 years before. 40 41 De Saible’s legacy had come full circle: what likely began as a faint 42memory of his presence in 1833 during Chicago’s frontier stage of cultural stirrings and conclusion
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development had evolved into a full-fledged movement to enshrine him by the onset of planning A Century of Progress. The African American women of the National De Saible Memorial Society, who were aware of the power of visual representation, acted as an especially effective human channel for change. They had organized over five years previously, since the Black Metropolis’s civic leadership with its sense of modernity demanded strategic planning and preparation. By choosing to depict De Saible and his family as they actually lived, African American planners hoped tactically to use his image and any positive impact that it had on the viewer as a catalyst for racial change. Such was the importance they placed on the self-perception of blacks and the perceptions of others.17 In the same vein, Dr. Arthur G. Falls and the De Saible Men’s Club wrote to the management of the fair in support of a proper recognition of De Saible. With his ear sensitive to the murmurings in the black community, congressional support flowed also from Oscar De Priest.18 The two groups’ approach included a claim to citizenship rights for their icon, since De Saible was documentable as the city’s founder and a successful businessperson who initiated what was to become the foundation of the city’s vaunted late–nineteenth century commercial tradition. In making this claim to citizenship and commercial leadership for its icon, the League unfortunately denigrated the humanity of the indigenous population already in residence and involved in trade. The claim of the Chicago Urban League was interesting: “Jean Point De Saible was the first civilized human to settle in what is now Chicago.”19 The declaration of the National De Saible Memorial Society was more humane: “Salient points: first settler; Negro; first trader, pioneer, and business man in Chicago; built first house in Chicago.”20 The one minor setback that occurred in the groups’ program appeared in an assertion by a contemporary historian that questioned De Saible’s parentage and associated it with French Canadian instead of Franco-Haitian-African roots.21 Amid the planning, debate, and administrative maneuvering, it took over five years for the campaign to actually construct a De Saible exhibit on the fairgrounds. Administrative misgivings about recognizing one group over any other framed the initial argument of the fair’s management against permitting an exhibit of any kind. The Catholic Historical Society, for example, requested to have a special exhibit commemorating Father Marquette and explorer Louis Joliet’s seasonal stay in the vicinity of Chicago in the seventeenth century.22 The head of the Social Science Division accordingly wrote an initial denial to the De Saible group on the rational grounds that it offered nothing new that the already planned 138
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1 2Fort Dearborn re-creation would not cover, along with the assessment 3that it would not sustain an enduring interest from all fairgoers: 4 5 I note with a great deal of interest your letter concerning the De Saible 6 cabin. That matter has been up a good many times before the Fair. Dr. 7 Odum was interested in it, as we all were, but with the completion of Fort 8 Dearborn, it seemed to be a duplication of building and also of furnish9 ings so that its value became somewhat questionable. . . . It was turned 10 over eventually to the Concessions Department where such a display 11 would seem naturally to belong. My understanding is that they felt that 12 in view of the Fort Dearborn reproduction, the De Saible project being 13 merely a one-room cabin with nothing in itself very distinctive would not 23 14 have enough popular appeal to warrant it. 15 16To African Americans, it was a matter of utmost importance that after 17months of prolonged and coordinated political and community pressure, 18the Chicago City Council voted to 24recommend to the fair’s leadership 19that a De Saible exhibit be erected. Finally, limited funding followed of the cabin’s erec20from the council, with an all-important endorsement 25 21tion from A Century of Progress administrators. 22 The location and form of the De Saible homestead created problems 23that contemporaries chose to ignore in the face of dire realities such as 24funding. First, the homestead was replicated as a simple log cabin instead 25of the more refined structure it had actually been, one in which the accou26trements of fine living were on display, including paintings on the walls. 27The Black Metropolis’s premier architect, Charles S. Duke, assumed the 28responsibility of replicating a De Saible homestead in collaboration with 29the National De Saible Memorial Society. Somehow in the course of the 30project all notion of architectural accuracy was lost and the replica was 31conceived of26 inaccurately of as a “cabin” to be constructed along hori32zontal lines. The authentic depiction should27 have been a homestead of 33multiple structures and numerous livestock. Moreover, the contempo34rary De Saible Association clearly depicted the residence in a souvenir with vertical external support beams in the front 35booklet as a homestead 28 of the home. Then, as a further compromise to the project’s integrity, 36 the structure was placed in a less-than-ideal location in the shadow of 37 29 Fort Dearborn. Despite the best of intentions and involvement of some 38 of the top civic, community, and political leadership, the replica they 39 succeeded in getting minimized De Saible’s accomplishment.30 Settling 40 41for the financially attainable, the African American promoters accepted 42an incorrect image of the cabin, but according to Mrs. Lillian O’Neil cultural stirrings and conclusion
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Neal, who daily acted as a hostess in the replica, it was the best exhibit that could be constructed during a national depression for a group that had to depend on state and city funding.31 Whatever the compromise, in the eyes of black Chicagoans the fact that the venture reached this stage of completion was a tribute to black pressure politics and community action.32 Representing Africa on the fairgrounds proved just as challenging to the concept’s promoters as did bringing the De Saible exhibit into fruition. In contrast to the World’s Columbian Exposition, where a Dahomey Village; an Egyptian Village featuring Nubians, Sudanese, and others; and a North African exhibit representing life in the northern littoral of Africa appeared on the famed, mile-long Midway entertainment strip, this fair featured sophisticated plans for representation. An African prince, Modupe Paris, and at least one other black entrepreneur, along with the white-owned Nettleton Company, all submitted plans for extensive exhibits featuring various aspects of past and present African life. Prince Modupe Paris headed a group called the African Exhibit Society of the African Students Aid Association, which proposed a continental African-led effort to present life in Africa from a truly firsthand perspective. As Paris wrote, As Africans, we command certain advantages in making the proposition a success. The primitive native African psychology and the AmericanNegro psychology are two different things entirely. The African primitive does not understand American Negro psychology, nor does the American Negro understand the primitive African psychology; but the African student in Chicago and elsewhere in the States, understand both. He is able to achieve more results in both. Therefore if there are any interested persons among Negroes in Chicago they should work with us on the pending plans rather than proceed separately.33
As the fair’s management examined all proposals with respect to their ability to stage the individual projects with sufficient startup funding, the element of race became subordinated to the fair’s projected profit margin. In the end, all proposals were rejected. The group affiliated with Prince Modupe Paris was undaunted, however. The resolution came successfully in the form of a collaborative endeavor involving African Americans and continental Africans; the groups successfully continued their planning together and opened a separate exhibit in the heart of the Black Metropolis. Located several miles south of the fairgrounds, their choice of a venue was the black 140
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1 2constructed Knights of Pythias building situated at 38th Place and State 3Street. In this community-based effort involving both Africans and Afri4can Americans, the organizing body, the African and American Negro 5Exhibit Society, planned the African And American Negro Exhibits for 6June 5, 1933 through November 4, 1933. Professional architects Charles S. 7Duke and William T. Bailey participated, as did Black Metropolis legal 34 8minds C. Francis Stradford, A. M. Burroughs, and Loring B. Moore. 9 The African presence was to be represented in a totally different man10ner than had been seen in the World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893. 11Then, the Fon people of Dahomey were treated as a novelty. This time, 12the idea of Prince Modupe Paris of West Africa and others led to pre13sentation of an exhibit that was informative and inspiring and seemed 14to strengthen transoceanic bonds. The maturation in black thinking on 15Africa had advanced progressively forward since the days when FrederDahomey Village was not worthy of 16ick Douglass could exclaim that the 35 17cultural linkage and comparison. 18 Participating in the World’s Fair represented an expression of cultural 19maturity and progress for African Americans as they chose to control 20the politics of display and representation by constructing and managing 21their own exhibits. In 1893, a reluctant Frederick Douglass assumed the 22leadership in presenting a noteworthy “Colored American Day,” while 23the city’s black clergy, along with Ida B. Wells-Barnett, worked in oppo24sition to what they considered would be a display of black cultural and 25educational backwardness in the twenty-eight years since emancipa26tion. The core of the dispute was over the matter of whether Colored 27people as a distinct grouping in American life needed a special day to 28celebrate their accomplishments since the Emancipation. Opponents 29argued that as citizens of the Republic, the Colored people should be 30included, or integrated, into all of the exhibits dealing with American 31life as a whole. Not surprisingly, given the ideological chasm between 32African Americans who resented any hint of voluntary separation from 33the America body politic and those who held to a pluralist view embrac34ing ethnocentrism, the proposed Negro Day event of 1933 faced similar 35opposition. However, its character differed as to tone and level of inten36sity. Like Colored American Day, the event was scheduled to represent 37all blacks throughout the nation and therefore was not technically a 38Chicago event. Just as non-Chicagoans, led by Frederick Douglass and 39Will Marion Cook, promoted and administered the details during that 40period, the project’s director, Chandler Owen, had arrived in Chicago 41after the mid-twenties, but he assumed he had by now earned enough 42gravitas to proceed with his personal plans for a racial extravaganza. cultural stirrings and conclusion
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One time radical and partner of A. Philip Randolph at the Messenger magazine, Owen encountered locally the same combination of indifference and resistance that Randolph had initially met with when garnering support for the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters in 1926. While Randolph enlisted the aid of Chicagoan Milton P. Webster to win popular acceptance, Owen had no such hometown link. Not unexpectedly, he failed to rally the larger African American community to his efforts. One contributing factor had to be his appeal to racial identity, for he hailed the event as the one opportunity where “Negroes are to have their day in the sun.” As he assessed the situation, “the failure of the group to provide an adequate exhibit of Negro accomplishment, in the form of a racial exhibit, had been something of disappointment.”36 The latter’s fear that the group would hold a subordinate status in a comprehensive exhibit fielded by whites echoed the previous generation’s apprehensions. However, in the end black achievement was presented in various exhibits throughout the fairgrounds. Then, there was the personal, social matter of belonging. Owen was considered an outsider to the city by certain cliques and a person without strong links to the fraternal, civic, community, religious, and political bodies and their disparate leaderships that normally comprised the support mechanism for a venture of this sort. Once Owen did assemble his support group, it contained the names of persons who perfunctorily signed on to every cause that appeared in any degree worthy. Four hundred miles away, the Pittsburgh Courier conjured up a political feud between Congressman Oscar De Priest and Owen, which had the local political leader acting as an opponent because of some imagined political threat and program slight. What Owen did fail to do was to account for the purposes for which the money raised would be used. Then, he raised the suspicions of the clergy, who spoke against the event in their pulpits when he did not thoroughly explain its worthiness as more than just a musical pageant.37 Despite any misgivings or confusion, the celebration took place on Saturday, August 12, 1933, preceded by a less-than-spectacular parade that marched into cavernous Soldier Field to the delight of 50,000 persons. While the figure did not match the facility’s capacity of 100,000 as predicted, this number was substantial. The pageant inside the facility was dubbed “An Epic of The Race” and featured mass choirs and excellent entertainment. Overall, it was both a musical treat for the crowd and a financial failure for Owen and the fair’s managers. As a side note, the presence of such a large number of blacks held down the number of 142
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1 2whites who would ordinarily have attended the fair on that day. Instead attendance records, it disappointingly accomplished 3of breaking high 38 the opposite. 4 5 6Conclusion 7 The events presented here form a kind of prelude to the New Deal, 8 for they substantially contributed to the mindset that was then able to 9 embrace the monumental changes of the New Deal beginning in 1933. 10 Just as the cultural scene afforded a bright spot on a dismal horizon, the 11 advent of Roosevelt’s New Deal promised and delivered hope through 12 institutional support to the arts and the totality of American society. 13 More importantly, street-level protest activism showed that sustained 14 hope could outlast adversity. The indomitable spirit of the ordinary cit15 izen assumed so much a part of the African American personality in 16 Chicago as to be both entrenched and exemplary. Organizational and 17 institutional vitality showed through the dismalness as well. Egalitari18 anism received a major boost from a foreign source in the Communist 19 Party that reinvigorated the domestic NAACP’s thrust toward full equal20 ity. Political leaderships found that the masses would no longer toler21 ate empty promises accompanied by still-empty stomachs. Even in the 22 staunchly loyal Republican Black Metropolis, doubts about remaining in 23 the ranks of the party faithful found new listeners. Although nearly the 24 entire nation sought to embrace Roosevelt and his successful New Deal, 25 African Africans remained loyal to the party that ended slavery. It would 26 take until the end of the decade for a political realignment to be com27 pleted, but it did occur, partly thanks to the influence of the more intense 28 mass-level involvement that was seen beginning in 1930.39 29 The failure of black financial institutions and foundering of the eco30 nomic leg of the Black Metropolis concept neither ended the impulse 31 toward entrepreneurship nor the determination to continue business 32 operations on the South Side. The milieu was such that it inspired the 33 founders of Illinois Federal Savings and Loan to revive a semblance of 34 what had been Black Metropolis banking. John H. Johnson saw the way 35 to building a publishing empire that would make him a worthy heir to 36 the Abbott tradition of success in publishing. Eye-opening possibilities 37 of interracial cooperation among labor’s diverse constituencies appeared 38 as economic considerations neutralized more myopic group concerns. 39 One major result was the accepted value of being united along economic 40 lines, especially involving labor. Organized unionism grew with greater 41 numbers of African Americans than ever before. 42 cultural stirrings and conclusion
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The dramatic and salutary impact of the New Deal is best left to another study detailing its influence in its entirety. However, a brief description of its significance must acknowledge that in attacking some of the root problems affecting the economy in industrial and agricultural overproduction, corporate manipulation of the stock market, exploitation of workers, and enfeebled federal oversight of the overall forces shaping the market, the New Deal moved the nation along a path toward eventual recovery, and along the way gave the nation confidence in its ability to recover.
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1 2notes 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 Introduction 13 14 1. See Christopher Robert Reed, The Rise of Chicago’s Black Metropolis, 1920–1929 15(Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2011). 2. See Claude A. Barnett in “We Win a Place in Industry,” 82–86; and E. Franklin 16 Frazier in “Chicago: A Cross-Section of Negro Life,” 72, both in the March, 1929 issue 17 of Opportunity. The image projected in some scholarship that the decade had never 18been as prosperous for workers as later generations have popularly believed is criti19cally explored in Gareth Canaan’s article, “’Part of the Loaf ’: Economic Conditions 20of Chicago’s African-American Working Class during the 1920s,” Journal of Social 21History 35 (Fall 2001): 147–174. 22 3. Carroll Binder, Chicago and the New Negro (special booklet publication, Chi23cago: Chicago Daily News, 1927), 13; and Madrue Chavers-Wright, The Guarantee: P. 24W. Chavers—Banker, Entrepreneur, Philanthropist in Chicago’s Black Belt of the Twen25ties (New York: Wright-Amstead Associates, 1985), 328. 26 4. Chicago Defender, March 5, 1927, 1: 11. The Chicago Defender issue of July 27, 271928, 2: 11 refers to troubling economic signs in 1926. See also Jane Addams to Mrs. [Emmons] Blaine, January 20, 1928, Anita McCormick Blaine Papers as part of the 28 Cyrus McCormick Papers, State Historical Society of Wisconsin, Madison (hereafter 29 referred to as the McCormick Papers). 30 5. Frederick H. H. Robb, The Negro in Chicago (Chicago: Washington Intercol31legian Club, 1927), vol. 1, p. 11. 32 6. Chicago Defender, January 1, 1927, 1: 11. 33 7. Oliver Cromwell Cox, “The Origins of Direct-Action Protest among Negroes” 34(unpublished manuscript microfiche version, c. 1932–1933, revised c. 1960, Kent State 35University Libraries). 36 8. “Binga Bank Is Ordered Closed for State Audit,” Chicago Tribune, August 6, 371930. 38 9. Horace R. Cayton, Long Old Road: An Autobiography (Seattle: University of 39Washington Press, 1963), 176. 10. Christopher Robert Reed, “Black Chicago’s Political Realignment during the 40 Depression and New Deal,” Illinois Historical Journal 78 (Winter 1985): 242–256. 41 11. Press release, August 24, 1933, Branch Files, NAACP Papers, Library of Con42gress, Washington, D.C. (hereafter referred to as Branch Files, NAACP Papers). notes to pages 000–000
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1. The Impact of the Depression on Home Life, Institutions, and Organizations 1. Harold D. Lasswell and Dorothy Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda: A Chicago Study (Chicago: Alfred A. Knopf, 1939), 23–24. 2. Chicago Defender, July 12, 1930, 5. 3. “Reds Riot: 3 Slain by Police,” Chicago Tribune, August 4, 1931, 1, 2; and “Reds Here Foment Rent Plot,” August 6, 1931, 1; see also the editorial “The Red Invasion” of August 6, 1931, 12. 4. See St. Clair Drake and Horace R. Cayton, Black Metropolis: A Study of Negro Life in a Northern City (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1945), 12–13. 5. Ibid., 218f. 6. Charles S. Johnson, “Backgrounds of Chicago’s Negroes,” typewritten manuscript, 1939, in the Charles S. Johnson Papers, Fisk University Library, Nashville, Tenn. 7. Chicago Defender, March 5, 1927, 1: 11. The Chicago Defender issue of July 27, 1928, 2: 11 refers to troubling economic signs in 1926. See also Jane Addams to Mrs. Blaine, January 20, 1928, the McCormick Papers. 8. Harold F. Gosnell, Negro Politicians: The Rise of Negro Politics in Chicago (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1935), 321. 9. “Eighteenth Annual Report of the Chicago Urban League, 1931–1932,” 8; and “Chicago Urban League, Annual Reports: 1929–1947,” Chicago Urban League Papers, Regenstein Library, University of Illinois at Chicago (hereafter referred to as the Chicago Urban League Papers). 10. Drake and Cayton, Black Metropolis, 246. For a similar scenario in Depression-era New York City, see Barbara Ransby, Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003), 76. 11. Thyra J. Edwards, “Chicago in the Rain,” Opportunity 10 (May, 1932): 148. 12. Ibid., 149. 13. Robert W. Bagnall to Archie L. Weaver, November 28, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. Other pertinent references to the economic plight of black Chicagoans are found in Bagnall to Daisy E. Lampkin, November 28, 1930; and Bagnall to Lampkin, November 12, 1931 (Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Lampkin); both in NAACP Papers. 14. Interview with Ida M. Cress in Timuel Black, comp., Bridges of Memory: Chicago’s First Wave of Black Migration—An Oral History (Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 2003), 83. 15. Interview with Mrs. Alfreda Duster on May 11, 1977 in Chicago. 16. Oscar C. Brown, [Sr.], By a Thread (New York: Vantage, 1983), 51. 17. Interview with George Johnson in Black, Bridges of Memory, 347. 18. Interview with Bishop Arthur Brazier in Black, Bridges of Memory, 549–550. 19. Interview with Charles A. Davis Sr. on October 24, 2008 in Chicago. 20. Henry W. McGee, “Autobiography of Henry McGee: Chicago’s First Black Postmaster” (unpubl. mss., Chicago, 1994), 8–10. 21. Ibid., 8. 146
notes notes to pages to pages 000–000 9–14
1 22. Jeff Lyons, “Generations: A Quiet Quest to Honor a Family’s Legacy,” in Chi2 cago Tribune, February 23, 1992, 14. Interview with Grace Mason and Michelle Madi3 son on August 17, 2001 in Chicago. 4 23. Richard Wright, American Hunger (New York: Harper & Row, 1944), 19, 26, 30. 5 24. George E. Kent, A Life of Gwendolyn Brooks (Lexington: University Press of 6Kentucky, 1990), 18. 7 25. Lizabeth Cohen, Making a New Deal: Industrial Workers in Chicago, 1919–1939 8(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 215. 9 26. Archie Weaver to Roy Wilkins, June 17, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 10 27. Chicago Defender, October 15, 1932, 15. 11 28. See Reed, The Emergence of the Black Metropolis, chapter 2. 12 29. Horace R. Cayton, “The Black Bugs,” The Nation 133 (September 9, 1931): 255. 13 30. Drake and Cayton, Black Metropolis, 545. See also Gerri Major [and Doris Saunders], Black Society (Chicago: Johnson Publishing Company, Inc., 1976), 355. 14 31. Drake and Cayton, Black Metropolis, 545, 546. 15 32. Major [and Saunders], Black Society, 355. 16 33. Chavers-Wright, The Guarantee, 355, 378–380, 396. 17 34. Ibid., 509; and Abram L. Harris, The Negro as Capitalist: A Study of Banking 18and Business among African American Negroes (Glouster, Mass.: Peter Smith Publish19ing, 1968 [1936]), 177. 20 35. Interview with L[ewis A. H.] Caldwell in Black, Bridges of Memory, 260. 21 36. Interview with LeRoy Martin in Black, Bridges of Memory, 465. 22 37. “Corneal A. Davis Memoir, Volume I,” Illinois General Assembly Oral History 23Program, Legislative Studies Center (Springfield: Sangamon State University 1984), 2460–61. 25 38. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 184, 185. 39. Chicago Defender, January 18, 1930, 2. 26 40. Jesse Binga to Anthony Binga, January 30, 1930, in the author’s Binga Family 27 File. 28 41. John A. Carroll, “The Great American Bank Bubble and Why It Burst,” Real 29America, April, 1935, 20. 30 42. “‘Black Belts’ Cause Chicago’s Bank Failures Segregated District Real Estate 31Classed as Frozen Assets,” Chicago Defender, August 23, 1930, 13. 32 43. “Binga Freed,” Chicago Defender, March 5, 1938, 10. 33 44. Ibid. 34 45. Chavers-Wright, The Guarantee, 354–355. 35 46. Cohen, Making a New Deal, 215. 36 47. “Indict Bank Heads,” Chicago Defender, November 1, 1930, 4. 37 48. “Ask Removal of Binga Bank Receiver,” Chicago Defender, June 11, 1932, 1. 49. W. E. B. Du Bois, “Postscript,” Crisis (December 1930): 425. Also, Abram L. 38 Harris, The Negro as Capitalist, 162–163. 39 50. Minutes of the Olivet Baptist Church, Box 3, Folder 1, Olivet Baptist Church 40Records, Chicago History Museum (hereafter referred to as Olivet Baptist Church 41Records). 42 notes to pages 14–20 000–000
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51. Claude A. Barnett to Robert R. Moton, June 9, 1931, Claude A. Barnett Papers, Chicago History Museum (hereafter referred to as Barnett Papers) 52. “Under Way at State And 56th,” Chicago Tribune, December 27, 1931, B6; and “Title And Trust Head Buys Home In Winnetka,” Chicago Tribune, December 23, 1931, 22. 53. “Bank Has Wonderful Record; Is Sound,” Chicago Defender, August 16, 1930, 3. See also Nicholas A. Lash, “Anthony Overton,” in Encyclopedia of African American Business History, ed. Juliet E. K. Walker (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1999), 440. 54. “Douglass Bank Closes,” Chicago Defender, May 28, 1932, 1. 55. Chavers-Wright, The Guarantee, 385–387. 56. Ibid., 383. 57. “100th Anniversary Souvenir Book of Greater Bethesda Baptist Church,” Chicago: n.p, 1982. 58. “President of Bank and Pastor in Hot Words,” Chicago Defender, April 30, 1932, 6. 59. “108th Homecoming Celebration of [the] Friendship Baptist Church of Chicago,” Chicago: n.p., July, 2005. 60. “New Waukegan Bank Receiver Is Appointed,” Chicago Tribune, May 24, 1932, 8. 61. See in Chicago Tribune: “Receivers Report on Condition of 21 Closed National Banks,” July 31, 1933, 5; “National Banks Pay Back Most to Depositors,” October 28, 1934, A7; “Estimate What Two Banks Can Pay on Deposits,” April 30, 1935, 22; and, “National Banks to Repay $414,700,” October 31, 1937, SW1. 62. Roi Ottley, The Lonely Warrior: The Life and Times of Robert S. Abbott (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1955), 299. 63. Margaret Walker, Richard Wright, Daemonic Genius: A Portrait of the Man, a Critical Look at His Work (New York: Warner Books, 1988), 61. 64. Ottley, The Lonely Warrior, 298. Also, Ralph Davis Nelson, “The Negro Newspaper in Chicago,” (unpubl. M.A. thesis, University of Chicago, 1939), 124. 65. Lash, “Anthony Overton,” in Walker, Encyclopedia, 440. 66. Interview with Earl B. Dickerson on July 11, 1968 in Chicago. Also, see Robert C. Puth, “Supreme Life: The History of a Negro Life Insurance Company, 1919–1962,” Business History Review 43 (Spring 1969): 11. 67. Robert E. Weems Jr., Black Business in the Black Metropolis: The Chicago Metropolitan Assurance Company, 1925–1985 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996), 8–15. 68. Randi Storch, Red Chicago: American Communism at Its Grassroots, 1928–35 (Urbana: University of Illinois, 2007). 69. Arvarh E. Strickland, History of the Chicago Urban League (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1967), 106. 70. “Eighteenth Annual Report of the Chicago Urban League, 1931–1932,” 21; and “Chicago Urban League, Annual Report: 1929–1947,” bound copies, Chicago Urban League Papers. 71. “Eighteenth Annual Report of the Chicago Urban League, 1931–1932,” 24. 72. Ibid. 148
notes notes toto pages pages 000–000 20–26
1 73. Ibid., 8. 2 74. “Summary of Activities of the Chicago Urban League for the Fiscal Year End3 ing. October 1, 1930,” 1, Public Relations File, National Urban League Papers, Library 4of Congress, Washington, D.C. (hereafter referred to as the National Urban League 5Papers). 6 75. “Eighteenth Annual Report of the Chicago Urban League,” 16–17. 7 76. Interview with Mr. Walter L. Lowe on May 3, 1977 in Chicago; and Chicago 8Defender, May 30, 1931, 13. 9 77. U.S. Congress, House, 71st Cong., 3rd sess., 16 January 1931, Congressional 10Record 74: 1498; and Chicago Defender, 20 September 1930, 4. 11 78. Horace J. Bridges to [Julius] Rosenwald, 30 October, 1930, Chicago Urban 12League File, Julius Rosenwald Papers. 13 79. “Summary of Activities of the Chicago Urban League for the Fiscal Year Ending October 1, 1930,” 1, Public Relations File, National Urban League Papers. 14 80. Chicago Defender, November 22, 1930, 3. 15 81. Chicago Defender, February 21, 1931, 6. 16 82. Chicago Defender, June 18, 1932, 2. 17 83. Chicago Defender, September 17, 1932, 5. 18 84. “Auditor’s Report for the Fiscal Year Ending September, 1932,” Chicago Urban 19League Papers. 20 85. Interviews with Dr. Arthur G. Falls and Mr. Lowe on May 3, 1977 in Chicago. 21 86. “Proposed Activities of the Chicago Urban League for 1932,” January 11, 1932, 22Chicago Urban League File, Salmon O. Levinson Papers, Regenstein Library, Univer23sity of Chicago (hereafter referred to as Levinson Papers). 24 87. Elbridge Bancroft Pierce to Levinson, 10 October, 1931, Levinson Papers. 25 88. Levinson to [A. L.] Foster, 12 November, 1931, Levinson Papers. 89. Interview with Dr. Falls. 26 90. Interviews with Mr. Lowe and Dr. Falls. 27 91. Oliver Cromwell Cox, “The Origins of Direct Action Among Negroes” (mss. 28c. 1932, microfiche copy, Kent State University Libraries), 141. 29 92. Chicago Defender, May 24, 1930, 4. 30 93. Chicago Defender, September 30, 1930, 5. 31 94. Chicago Defender, December 10, 1932, 24. 32 95. Dr. Falls presented evidence to the author to support a 1932 founding date. 33 96. Strickland, History of the Chicago Urban League, 122. 34 35 2. The Ineffectiveness of Conventional Politics 36 37 1. Reed, “Black Chicago’s Political Realignment during the Depression and New Deal,” 242–256. Also, see Harold F. Gosnell, Machine Politics (Chicago: University of 38 Chicago Press, 1937), 158–159. 39 2. Christopher Robert Reed, “Black Chicago’s Civic Organization Before 1935,” 40Journal of Ethnic Studies 14 (Winter 1987): 65–77. 41 3. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 193. 42 4. Drake and Cayton, Black Metropolis, 370; and Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 193. notes to pages 26–37 000–000
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5. “Melvin J. Chisum Gets His Views on Oscar DePriest,” The Black Dispatch, March 2, 1933, Barnett Papers. See also the Communists’ denunciation of DePriest in Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 339–340. 6. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 190. 7. Thomas L. Blanton to Arthur W. Mitchell, June 3, 1936, Arthur W. Mitchell Papers, Chicago History Museum (hereafter referred to as Mitchell Papers). 8. William P. Cole to [Arthur W.] Mitchell, January 20, 1936, Mitchell Papers. 9. For examples, see in NAACP Papers: Walter White to Arthur [Spingarn], June 12, 1930, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Walter White File; White to Oscar [DePriest], November 10, 1930, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Walter White File; White to Oscar [DePriest], April 21, 1931, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Walter White File; and Dean [William Pickens] to Walter, June 4, 1931, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: William Pickens File. 10. Weaver to National Office, May 19, 1930, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 11. Chicago Defender, February 14, 1931, 4. 12. Richard Wright, Lawd Today (New York: Walker, 1963), 52–54. 13. U.S. Congress, House, 71st Cong., 3rd sess., January 30, 1931, Congressional Record 74: 3648. 14. Oscar DePriest to Claude A. Barnett, August 26, 1931, Barnett Papers. 15. U.S. Congress, House, 72nd Cong., 1st sess., March 3, 1932, Congressional Record 75: 5213. 16. Chicago Defender, August 1, 1931, 5. 17. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 65–73. 18. Chicago Defender, March 7, 1931, 1. 19. Ibid. 20. Both the files of the Chicago Defender and state legislative records fail to reveal the passage of any such bills. 21. Chicago Defender, May 25, 1931, 13; and June 30, 1931, 2. 22. DePriest to Barnett, 1 July 1931, Claude A. Barnett Papers, Chicago History Museum. Also, see the Chicago Defender, September 26, 1931, 1. 23. Chicago Defender, June 13, 1931, 11. 24. An example is the response of the black community to the need for funds following the riot of 1919. Nearly $7,000 was raised from all-black community organizations to aid the riot defendants and victims. This was accomplished separately from the NAACP-sponsored effort. See A. C. MacNeal to William Graves, 3 April 1920, NAACP File, Julius Rosenwald Papers, University of Chicago (hereafter referred to as Rosenwald Papers). During the early depression, such groups as the black women’s clubs and the fraternal orders raised thousands of dollars on their own for community relief efforts. This was carried out while the Chicago Urban League and the United Charities conducted their own drives. See “Biennial Report for 1931–32” (Chicago and Northern District Association for Colored Women, 1932), located in the Main Library Building, the University of Illinois at Urbana. Also, see the Chicago Defender, November 22, 1930, 1, for an example on how one church group helped the needy. 25. Frank Z. Glick, “The Illinois Emergency Relief Commission,” Social Service Review 7 (March 1933): 23. 26. Ibid., 24. 150
notes notes toto pages pages 000–000 38–45
1 27. Walker, Richard Wright, Daemonic Genius, 56, 58. 2 28. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 17. 3 29. Ibid., 321. 4 30. George F. Robinson Jr. “The Negro in Politics in Chicago,” Journal of Negro 5History 17 (April 1932): 217. 6 31. Chicago Defender, August 23, 1930, 4. 7 32. Chicago Defender, November 29, 1930, 5. 8 33. Simms’s Blue Book and Business Directory, 77. 9 34. Chicago Defender, February 14, 1931, 4. 10 35. A list of his accomplishments while in office reveals nothing beyond the cer11emonial and the innocuous. To his credit, he did pass a bill protecting the quality of 12the school children’s milk supply. 13 36. Chicago Defender, August 23, 1930, 4. 37. Chicago City Council, Journal of the Proceedings of the City Council, October 14 22, 1930: 3751–3752. 15 38. Ibid., December 1, 1930: 4152. 16 39. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 368. 17 40. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 236–240. 18 41. Ibid., 302–303. 19 42. Sterling D. Spero and Abram L. Harris, The Black Worker: The Negro and the 20Labor Movement (New York: Atheneum, 1969 [1931]), 464. 21 43. Harold F. Gosnell, “The Chicago ‘Black Belt’ as a Political Battleground,” The 22American Journal of Sociology 38 (December 1933): 339. 23 44. Walter White, A Man Called White (New York: Viking Press, 1948), 105. 24 45. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 195. 25 46. Chicago Defender, April 19, 1930, 1. 47. Telegram, Dr. Herbert Turner to Senator Charles Deneen, April 14, 1930, 26 Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 27 48. Chicago Defender, May 3, 1930, 2: 16. 28 49. Archie L. Weaver to National Office, 30 April 1930, Branch Files, NAACP 29Papers. 30 50. Chicago Defender, April 26, 1930, 5. 31 51. Chicago Defender, May 3, 1930, 1:3. 32 52. Chicago Defender, May 24, 1930, 5. 33 53. Gosnell, Machine Politics, 158–159. 34 54. Reed, “Black Chicago’s Political Realignment during the Depression and New 35Deal,” 242–256. 36 55. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 92. 37 56. Robinson, “The Negro in Politics in Chicago,” 221–222; Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 86–88; and Chicago Defender, October 18, 1930, 4. 38 57. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 88; Chicago Defender, May 10, 1930, 1. 39 58. Chicago Defender, May 10, 1930, 1. Hon. Robert H. Terrell was appointed a 40judge in Washington, D.C. in 1910 and served until 1925. The method in the district 41was to appoint rather than elect. 42 59. Chicago Defender, November 15, 1930, 11. notes to pages 45–53 000–000
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60. Chicago Tribune, November 5, 1930, 5. 61. Robinson, “The Negro in Politics in Chicago,” 222; Chicago Defender, January 31, 1931, 1. 62. “Thompson v. McCormicks,” Time, November 3, 1930, 17. 63. Chicago City Council, Journal of the Proceedings of the City Council, October 22, 1930, 3752; and “Thompson v. McCormicks,” 17–18. 64. Frances Williams McLemore, “The Role of the Negroes in Chicago in the Senatorial Election, 1930” (unpubl. M.A. thesis, University of Chicago, 1931), 48–52. 65. Ibid., 23f. 66. Chicago Tribune, November 2, 1930, 1: 11. 67. Chicago Tribune, November 5, 1930, 2; and Chicago Defender, November 22, 1930, 12. 68. Chicago Tribune, November 3, 1930, 1. 69. DePriest to The Associated Negro Press, November 6, 1930, Barnett Papers. 70. Thompson depended heavily on continued black electoral support in the spring election, and in August rioting over evictions occurred in the Black Belt. 71. Undated Cermak mayoral campaign handbill, 1931, Harold F. Gosnell File, Robert Merriam Papers, Box XCII, Regenstein Library University of Chicago (hereafter referred to as Gosnell/Merriam Papers). 72. Chicago Defender, February 28, 1931, 5. 73. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 194; and Chicago Defender, January 31, 1931, 5. 74. Chicago Defender, February 7, 1931, 5. 75. Chicago Defender, February 21, 1931, 3. 76. Chicago Tribune, April 7, 1931, 1. 77. Elmer William Henderson, “A Study of the Basic Factors Involved in the Change in the Party Alignment of Negroes in Chicago, 1932–1938” (M.A. thesis, University of Chicago, 1939), 78. 78. For Cermak assessment—interviews with Mrs. Lovelynn Evans, Dr. Arthur G. Falls, and Mr. Earl B. Dickerson, all in Chicago in 1978; for school board—Chicago Defender, April 11, 1931, 2; and April 25, 1931, 2. 79. At the insistence of Dickerson his duties were substantive in nature as opposed to those of his predecessors who often performed only those ceremonial in nature. Interview with Dickerson on July 11, 1969 in Chicago. 80. Chicago Defender, May 2, 1931, 13. 81. Interview with Daniel Shannon, December 12, 1979, in Chicago. Also see Len O’Connor, Clout: Mayor Daley and His City (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1975), 38. 82. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 200–201. 83. Chicago Defender, August 1, 1931, 5. 84. Chicago Defender, January 30, 1932, 2. 85. Chicago Defender, July 9, 1932, 1. 86. Chicago Defender, August 8, 1931, 2. 87. Chicago Defender, February 27, 1932, 3. 88. Chicago Defender, September 5, 1931, 4; April 2, 1932, 3; and Apri1 9, 1932, 13. 152
notes notes toto pages pages 000–000 53–59
1 89. Chicago Defender, October 15, 1932, 2. 2 90. For invading—DePriest to Associated Negro Press, November 10, 1932, Bar3 nett Papers; for Baker—Chicago Defender, November 12, 1932, 2; for Newton—Gos4nell, Negro Politicians, 350. 5 91. Chicago Tribune, November 9, 1932, 3. 6 92. William Griffin, “Changing Times Old Hat for [Corneal] Davis,” Chicago 7Defender, 26 January 1978, 6: 1. 8 93. Chicago Defender, November 12, 1932, 14. 9 94. Claude A. Barnett to John Hamilton, May 12, 1938, Barnett Papers. 10 95. A. N. Fields, “The Body Politic of Early Chicago: Edward H. Wright Reaches 11Zenith of His Power,” Chicago Defender, December 31, 1932, 11. 12 96. Reed, “Black Chicago’s Political Realignment during The Great Depression 13and New Deal,” 232–246. 97. Walter White to Herbert Turner, January 26, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP 14 Papers. 15 98. Chicago Defender, November 19, 1932, 22. 16 99. All references from Chicago Defender. For Ebenezer—May 3, 1930, 2: 16; for 17Olivet—May 3, 1930, 1: 3; and for membership drive—November 29, 1930, 5. 18 100. Morris Lewis to Walter White, November 18, 1930, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: 19Morris Lewis File; and Lewis to White, November 24, 1930, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: 20Morris Lewis File; both in NAACP Papers. 21 101. Annual Report of the Chicago NAACP, December 21, 1932, 9, Branch Files, 22NAACP Papers. 23 102. Unaddressed form letter, Turner to [any person chosen], January 28, 1931, 24NAACP Papers; and Chicago Defender, February 7, 1931, 4. 25 103. Herbert Turner to Walter White, March 2, 1931, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 104. Weaver to White, March 3, 1931, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 26 105. Bagnall to Lampkin, June 20, 1932, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Bagnall File, 27 NAACP Papers. 28 106. Weaver to [Dean William] Pickens, October 21, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP 29Papers. 30 107. Pickens to White, November 15, 1932, Branch Files; and Pickens to Robert W. 31Bagnall, November 17, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 32 108. Pickens to Bagnall, November 17, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 33 109. Annual report of the Chicago NAACP, December 21, 1932, 8, Branch Files, 34NAACP Papers. 35 110. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 349. 36 111. Ibid., 352. 37 38 3. Protest Activism in the Streets 39 The first epigraph is from August 7, 1932, Box XX, Folder 5, Rosenwald Papers) 40 1. Roger Biles, “Big Red in Bronzeville: Mayor Ed Kelly Reels in the Black Vote,” 41Chicago History 10 (Summer 1981): 99–101. 42 notes to pages 59–66 000–000
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2. See Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 118 for a view that is contradictory to this one that is given by Bibb’s widow, Mrs. Goldie Bibb. Mrs. Bibb was interviewed by telephone from the home of Mrs. Lovelynn Evans on January 25, 1978 in Chicago. 3. Interview with Mrs. Evans on May 5, 1977, and interview with Dr. Falls. 4. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 153. 5. Ibid., 26. 6. Ibid., 27. 7. Chicago Whip, August 2, 1930, 1; and August 9, 1930, 1. 8. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 128. 9. Chicago Whip, September 27, 1930, cited in Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 34. 10. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 142. 11. Chicago Whip, July 19, 1930, 8. 12. “65th Anniversary Souvenir Book of the Pilgrim Baptist Church,” Chicago, 1982. 13. Telephone interview with Mrs. Goldie Bibb. 14. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 42. 15. Ibid., 29. 16. Ibid., 37. 17. Ibid., 35. 18. Chicago Defender, April 26, 1930, 4. 19. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 141. 20. Telephone interview with Mrs. Bibb. 21. For writing support—Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 140; for financial support—telephone interview with Mrs. Bibb. 22. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 201. 23. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 71. 24. Chicago Whip, July 19, 1930, 1. 25. Ibid., July 26, 1930, 1; and August 2, 1930, 1. 26. Ibid., August 16, 1930, 1. 27. Telephone interview with Mrs. Bibb. 28. Chicago Defender, September 13, 1930, 3. 29. Telephone interview with Mrs. Bibb. 30. For fuller support—Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 40. Also see Roi Ottley, New World A-Coming (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1943), 114. Lesser support was given in my interview with Dr. Falls, and in August Meier and Elliott Rudwick, eds., Along the Color Line (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1976), 317. 31. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 35. 32. Chicago Whip, August 2, 1930, 1; and August 16, 1930, 1. 33. So designated in Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 145; as well as in Drake and Cayton, Black Metropolis, 85. 34. Will Herberg, “Shall The Negro Worker Turn to Labor or to Capital?” Crisis, July 1931, 227. 35. Chicago Whip, July 5, 1930, 8. 154
notes notes toto pages pages 000–000 67–74
1 36. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 40. 2 37. Frances Williams McLemore, “The Role of the Negroes in Chicago in the 3 Senatorial Election, 1930” (M.A. thesis, University of Chicago, 1931), 39–41. Black 4Chicago was organized in a block-to-block arrangement and news of its leaders was 5disseminated with both regularity and alacrity. 6 38. Wilson Record, Race and Radicalism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1964), 773. 8 39. Gosnell, “The Chicago ‘Black Belt’ As A Political Battleground,” 340; and Gos9nell, Negro Politicians, 35. Also, see Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,”130. 10 40. Ralph J. Bunche, “The Programs, Ideologies, Tactics and Achievement of 11Negro Betterment and Interracial Organizations,” unpublished memorandum pre12pared for the Carnegie-Myrdal Study of the Negro in America, June 1940, 264. 13 41. “Survey of the Month,” Opportunity 8 (May 1930): 155. 42. A. L. Foster, “Twenty Years of Interracial Goodwill through Social Service,” in 14 Two Decades of Service: 1916–1936, ed. A. L. Foster (Chicago: Chicago Urban League, 15 1936); and Race Relations Committee Report File, 151, Chicago Woman’s Aid Papers, 16Daley Library, University of Illinois at Chicago. 17 43. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 141. 18 44. Chicago Defender, May 3, 1930, 1: 14. 19 45. Chicago Defender, June 21, 1930, cited in Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 143. 20 46. Interview with Mrs. Evans. 21 47. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 143–144. 22 48. Ralph Davis Nelson, “The Negro Newspaper in Chicago,” (M.A. thesis, Uni23versity of Chicago, 1939), 123. 24 49. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 143. 25 50. Ibid., 51. 51. Robinson, “The Negro in Politics in Chicago,” 228. 26 52. Chicago Tribune, July 1, 1930, 1, 16. 27 53. Chicago Defender, May 24, 1930, 6. 28 54. “A Report on Relief Given Unattached Persons,” Fall-Winter-Spring 1930–1931, 29section iv of the Introduction to Part I, Public Relations Department File, Chicago, 30Illinois, National Urban League Papers. 31 55. Interview with Dr. Falls. 32 56. Chicago Tribune, July 2, 1930, 1. 33 57. Chicago Defender, May 24, 1930, 6; and Chicago Whip, October 25, 1930, 8. 34 58. Chicago Whip, October 25, 1930, 8. 35 59. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 76. The black percentage was 58.8. 36 60. Ibid., 76–77. 37 61. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 88. 62. Chicago Tribune, August 6, 1931, 4. 38 63. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 88. 39 64. Storch, Red Chicago, 54. 40 65. Chicago Whip, September 13, 1930, cited in Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 4187. 42 notes to pages 74–79 000–000
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66. Interview with Mrs. Evans. 67. Chicago Defender, September 13, 1930, 12. Additional information on Mayes is found in Chicago Commission on Race Relations, The Negro in Chicago (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1922), 409–411. 68. Chicago Defender, June 29, 1935, 16; and interviews with Dr. Falls, Mrs. Evans, and Mr. Dickerson. 69. Chicago Defender, September 20, 1930, 11; and May 19, 1951, 5 (ProQuest version). 70. Interview with Dr. Falls. 71. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 141. 72. Cox, “The Origins of Direct Action,” 92. 73. Chicago Defender, September 20, 1930, 16. See later reference to this action in June 29, 1935, 16. 74. Interview with Dr. Falls. 75. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 86. 76. Interview with Mr. Jesse “Pop” Helton on May 16, 1972 in Reed’s Barber Shop in Chicago. See also Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 170–171 on the spontaneous character of such incidents. 77. In addition to the Chicago Defender and the Chicago Tribune, the author examined the Chicago Daily News and the Chicago Herald Examiner. 78. See Reed, The Rise of Chicago’s Black Metropolis. 79. Chicago Whip, October 25, 1930, 2. 80. “A Report on Relief Given Unattached Persons.” 81. Chicago Defender, September 20, 1930, 10. 82. Chicago Whip, October 25, 1930, 2. 83. Cox, “Origins of Direct Action,” 92. 84. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 30, 201. 85. Chicago City Council, Journal of the Proceedings of the City Council, December 11, 1930: 4152. 86. Chicago Defender, July 9, 1932, 1. 87. Chicago Tribune, August 6, 1931, 1. 88. Interview with Jesse Helton; and Cayton, Long Old Road, 180. 89. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 346–347. 90. Cayton, “The Black Bugs,” 255. 91. Interview with Mr. Helton; Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 317; and Cayton, “Black Bugs,” 255–256. 92. Chicago Defender, August 15, 1931, 2. 93. Cayton, “Black Bugs,” 256. 94. Ibid., August 1, 1931, 11. 95. Chicago Tribune, August 4, 1931, 2; and Chicago Defender, August 1, 1931, 11. 96. Chicago Defender, August 1, 1931, 11. 97. Storch, Red Chicago: American Communism at Its Grassroots, 99. 98. Cayton, Long Old Road, 179. 99. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 202. 156
notes notes toto pages pages 000–000 79–86
1 100. Harry Haywood, Black Bolshevik: Autobiography of an Afro-American Com2 munist (Chicago: Liberator Press, 1978), 443. 3 101. Chicago Tribune, August 4, 1931, 1. 4 102. Ibid., August 5, 1931, 1. 5 103. John H. Bracey Jr. and John E. Higginson, comps. “Interview with Odis Hyde” 6in Amiri Baraka, Congress of African Peoples, 1989, Lexis-Nexis, 56. 7 104. [Robert S. Abbott], “Editorial: This Communism,” Chicago Defender, August 88, 1931, 3. 9 105. Chicago Defender, August 8, 1931, 3; and Chicago Tribune, August 10, 1931, 7. 10 106. Chicago Tribune, August 4, 1931, 1. 11 107. Chicago Defender, August 8, 1931, 3; and New York Times, August 5, 1931, 2. 12 108. Chicago Defender, August 8, 1931, 3. 13 109. Ibid.; and Chicago Tribune, August 6, 1931, 4. 110. Chicago Tribune, August 7, 1931, 1. 14 111. Chicago Tribune, August 8, 1931, 4. 15 112. Ibid. 16 113. Memorandum Re: Riot, August 4, 1931, Adm. Fi1e, Spec. Corres.: White File, 17NAACP Papers. 18 114. Telegram, Turner to White, August 4, 1931, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 19 115. “N.A.A.C.P. ACTS TO PROTECT RIGHTS OF NEGROES IN CHICAGO RIOT” August 7, 201931, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Walter White File, NAACP Papers. 21 116. In NAACP Papers: Memorandum Re: Riot, August 4, 1931, Adm. File, Spec. 22Corres.: White File; and Theophilus Mann to NAACP Press Service, December 5, 231931, Branch Files. 24 117. Ibid. 25 118. Interview with Dr. Falls. 119. Chicago Defender, September 12, 1931, 5; and September 19, 1931, 5. 26 120. Chicago Defender, August 8, 1931, 3. 27 121. Chicago Defender, September 5, 1931, 2. 28 122. Ibid., 4. 29 123. For 25,000 figure—Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propa30ganda, 203; for 30,000—taped interview with Harry Haywood; and Harry Haywood, 31Black Bolshevik: Autobiography of an Afro-American Communist (Chicago: Liberator 32Press, 1978), 443. See also Strickland, History of the Chicago Urban League, 108. 33 124. Arthur E. Holt, “Communists Do Not Segregate,” Christian Century 47 (issue 347, September 9, 1931): 1114. 35 125. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 203. 36 126. Holt, “Communists Do Not Segregate,” 1114. 37 127. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 170. 128. Ibid., 204. Also, Harry Haywood in Black Bolshevik cites the Daily Worker, 38 August 5–8, 10, 11 and 13, 1931, to support his claim that the Communist movement 39 grew by leaps and bounds. However, there are no other written data to support this 40position. 41 129. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 331. 42 notes to pages 86–92 000–000
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130. Chicago Defender, September 12, 1931, 3. 131. Mann to Press Service, NAACP, December 5, 1931, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 132. “Report of Investigation of the Killings of Abe Gray, Thomas Gray, and John O’Neal,” (Chicago Civil Liberties Committee, November 25, 1931), Branch Files, NAACP. 133. “New Library To Be Used by All Races: Dr. Hall Resents Hint of Segregation,” Chicago Defender, June 1, 1929, 10. 134. Librarian [Carl B. Roden] to Andrew J. Kolar, October 3, 1931; and October 30, 1931; both in Roden Papers. 135. Librarian [Carl B. Roden] to Andrew J. Kolar, October 3, 1931, Roden Papers. 136. Librarian [Carl B. Roden] to Andrew J. Kolar, August 7, 1931, Roden Papers. 137. “World’s Fair of 1933: How Chicago’s Lakefront Bash Defied the Depression,” Chicago Tribune Magazine, August 14, 1983, 27. 138. Christopher Robert Reed, “All The World Is Here”: The Black Presence At White City (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2000), 70–77. 139. P. J. B. to Ch[ica]go Better Business Bureau, March 22, 1933, Moore Employment Agency File, A Century of Progress Papers, University of Illinois at Chicago (hereafter referred to as ACOP). 140. “Ask Jobs for Race on World’s Fair Grounds,” Chicago Defender, January 28, 1933, 1–2. 141. [Thomas] Soders to Hon. Rufus C. Dawes, April 3, 1933, Moore Employment Agency File, ACOP. 142. Col. Randolph and Dr. Albert D. Allen to Rufus C. Dawes, May 3, 1933, Moore Employment Agency File, ACOP. 143. Interview with Mr. John Titus on October 23, 1983 in Chicago.
4. Organized Protest Responses—From Militant to Revolutionary 1. See Dona Cooper Hamilton and Charles V. Hamilton, The Dual Agenda: The African-American Struggle for Civil and Economic Equality (New York; Columbia University Press, 1997). 2. Will Herberg, “Shall the Negro Worker Turn to Labor or to Capital?” Crisis (July 1931): 227. 3. A. Wilberforce Williams to Walter White, October 11, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 4. Dean Williams Pickens to Walter White, November 28, 1932; Pickens to Robert W. Bagnall, November 30, 1932; “Dean” [Pickens] to White and Bagnall, December 3, 1932—all in Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 5. Interview with Mrs. Lovelynn Evans, May 5, 1977 in Chicago. 6. See Christopher Robert Reed, The Chicago NAACP and the Rise of Black Professional Leadership, 1910–1966 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1997), 226, 227, n4. 158
notes notes toto pages pages 000–000 92–99
1 7. Kersey to Arthur W. Mitchell, August 3, 1935, Mitchell Papers. 2 8. Walter White to Dr. Carl G. Roberts, April 25, 1930, Branch Files, NAACP 3 Papers. 4 9. In NAACP Papers: Robert W. Bagnall to Daisy E. Lampkin, September 29, 51930, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Robert W. Bagnall File; Archie L. Weaver to Bagnall, 6June 9, 1931, Branch Files; and Chicago Sunday Bee, November 23, 1930. 7 10. Weaver to Roy Wilkins, June 17, 1932; William Pickens to Weaver, Septem8ber 17, 1932; and Bagnall to Weaver, November 28, 1932, all in Branch Files, NAACP 9Papers. 10 11. Chicago Defender, May 3, 1930, 2: 16. 11 12. Ibid., December 6, 1930, 2. 12 13. Kathryn M. Johnson to White, March 3, 1930, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 13 14. Robert W. Bagnall to Daisy E. Lampkin, November 28, 1930, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Robert W. Bagnall File, NAACP Papers. 14 15. Weaver to National Office, December 5, 1930, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 15 16. Annual Report of the Chicago NAACP, December 16, 1931, 7, Branch Files, 16NAACP Papers. 17 17. Annual Report of the Chicago NAACP, December 21, 1932, 7, Branch Files, 18NAACP Papers. 19 18. Ibid., 8. 20 19. For 1930 data—Chicago Defender, November 29, 1929, 5; for 1931—Bagnall to 21Lampkin, November 12, 1931, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Daisy Lampkin File, NAACP 22Papers; for 1932—Pickens to Bagnall, November 17, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP 23Papers. 24 20. Chicago Defender, May 17, 1930, 5. 25 21. Ottley, The Lonely Warrior, 126. 22. Reed, The Rise of Chicago’s Black Metropolis, chapter 2. 26 23. White to Lampkin, November 12, 1931, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: White File, 27 NAACP Papers. 28 24. Bagnall to Pickens, November 21, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 29 25. Interview with Dr. Falls on March 10, 1978 in Chicago. 30 26. Interview with Mr. Earl B. Dickerson on January 25, 1978 in Chicago. 31 27. Weaver to White, September 26, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 32 28. Weaver to White, April 8, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 33 29. Bagnall to Wilkins, July 16, 1932, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: Bagnall File, NAACP 34Papers. 35 30. Annual Report of the Chicago NAACP, December 21, 1932, 11, Branch Files, 36NAACP Papers. 37 31. Chicago Defender, November 8, 1930, 5. 32. Telegram, Herbert A. Turner to Senator Charles S. Deneen, April 14, 1930, 38 Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 39 33. Weaver to White, September 26, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 40 34. In the definitive work on black politics during the thirties, Harold F. Gosnell’s 41Negro Politics, 113, the NAACP is considered a “pressure group” without political 42 notes to pages 99–104 000–000
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influence or involvement. And, in the only other study of black politics in the thirties, George F. Robinson’s “The Negro in Politics in Chicago,” the author did not mention the Chicago NAACP in a list of “agencies for civic and social betterment,” but did include it with the Urban League and YMCA (182–183). By implication, in political Chicago, the NAACP was not an important organization and Chicago politicians were not impressed by bodies of this sort. 35. A. C. MacNeal to White, May 27, 1933, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 36. Ibid. 37. Bagnall to Turner, January 11, 1930, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 38. William Pickens to Walter White, M[ar]ch 10, 1933, Adm. File, Spec. Corres.: William Pickens, NAACP Papers. 39. Ethel R. Harris, “A Study of Voluntary Social Activity among the Professional Negroes in Chicago” (M.A. thesis, University of Chicago, 1937), 87. 40. Weaver to Bagnall, June 12, 1931, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 41. Interview with Mr. Dickerson on June 13, 1977 in Chicago. 42. Taped interview with Mr. Harry Haywood by Professor John E. Higginson in 1975 in Chicago. Also, see Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 323. 43. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 323. 44. Haywood, Black Bolshevik, 443. 45. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 323. 46. Ibid., 82. 47. Haywood, Black Bolshevik, 442; and Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 329. 48. Cayton, Long Old Road, 180; and Storch, Red Chicago: American Communism at Its Grassroots, 99. 49. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 73. 50. Interview with Mr. Jesse “Pops” Helton on May 16, 1972 in Chicago. 51. Chicago Tribune, August 8, 1931, 4. 52. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 78. 53. Storch, Red Chicago: American Communism at Its Grassroots, 270. 54. Wilson Record, The Negro and the Communist Party (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1951; repr. Atheneum, 1971), 78. 55. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 78. 56. Haywood, Black Bolshevik, 443. 57. Chicago Defender, January 18, 1930, 7. 58. Record, Negro in the Communist Party, 76. 59. Wright, American Hunger, 37–38. 60. Ibid., 38. 61. Wright, Lawd Today, 54. 62. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 327. 63. Storch, Red Chicago, 89. 64. Just as Storch detected discrimination within the party’s ranks in Chicago, Harry Haywood confronted it in New York City. See Haywood, Black Bolshevik, 349–358. 65. Chicago City’s Clerk Office, “National Committee of the Unemployed Councils 160
notes to pages 000–000 104–112
1 of the Communist Party of the United States to Mayor William Thompson and The 2 City Council of Chicago,” March 18, 1931. 3 66. “‘Reds’ Storm City In Food Plea,” Chicago Defender, November 5, 1932, 1. 4 67. Chicago Defender, 31 October 1931, 1. 5 68. Chicago Defender, 23 April 1932, 13. 6 69. Kirk H. Porter and Donald Bruce Johnson, comps., National Party Platform: 71940–1960 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1961), 327. 8 70. Chicago Defender, November 5, 1932, 1; and interview with Mrs. Lillian Proctor 9Falls on May 5, 1977 in Chicago. 10 71. Chicago Defender, October 17, 1931, 5. 11 72. Chicago Defender, January 16, 1932, 1, 3. 12 73. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 368. 13 74. Interview with Mrs. Lillian Proctor Falls on May 3, 1977 in Chicago. See also “Color Line Unknown in Chicago Relief Work,” Chicago Defender, February 18, 1933, 14 8. 15 75. Wright, American Hunger, 44. 16 76. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 320–321. 17 77. Storch, Red Chicago: American Communism at Its Grassroots, 150–151, see also 18pp. 64 and 88. 19 78. Ibid., 64, 88. 20 79. Ibid., 337. 21 80. Ibid., 96. 22 81. Ibid., 325. 23 82. Chicago Defender, August 4, 1931, 2. 24 83. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 352; and Drake and Cayton, Black Metropolis, 738n 25and 738f. 84. St. Clair Drake, Churches and Voluntary Associations in the Chicago Negro 26 Community (Chicago: Works Progress Administration, 1940), 257. 27 85. Samuel M. Strong, “Social Types in the Negro Community of Chicago: An 28Example of the Social Type Method” (Ph.D. dissertation: University of Chicago, 291940), 261–262; and Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 348. 30 86. Pamphlet, “The Case of Claude Lightfoot,” 10, 11, Box 273, Folder 2809, Series 31I, Chicago Urban League Papers. 32 87. Storch, Red Chicago, 39. 33 88. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 244. 34 89. Stephen R. Tallackson, “The Chicago Defender and Its Reaction to the Com35munist Movement in the Depression Era” (M.A. thesis, University of Chicago, 1967), 3662, 63. 37 90. “Negro Leaders Accuse Reds in Fatal Rioting,” Chicago Tribune, August 4, 1931, 2. 38 91. “Reds Here Foment Rent Plot,” Chicago Tribune, August 6, 1931, 1, 4. 39 92. Chicago Defender, June 4, 1932, 2. 40 93. Michael Gold, “The Communists Meet,” June 15, 1932, 117. 41 94. Ibid. 42 notes to pages 113–118 000–000
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95. Pamphlet, “The Case of Claude Lightfoot,” 11. 96. Porter and Johnson, National Party Platforms, 330. 97. Lasswell and Blumenstock, World Revolutionary Propaganda, 168. 98. Christopher Robert Reed, “A Study of Black Politics and Protest in Depression-Decade Chicago, 1930–1939” (unpubl. Ph.D. dissertation, Kent State University, May, 1982), 311–320. 99. Gosnell, Negro Politicians, 332–334. 100. Record, Race and Radicalism, viii. 101. Ibid., x. 102. [Dean William] Pickens to [A. L.] Weaver, June 20, 1931, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 103. A. C. MacNeal to Walter White, June, 1933, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 104. Walter White to A. C. MacNeal, April 19, 1933, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 105. Press release, June 12, 1933, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 106. Interview with Dr. Falls. 107. Arthur E. Holt, “Communists Do Not Segregate,” Christian Century, September 9, 1931, 1115.
5. Organized Efforts in Behalf of Civil Rights 1. Weaver to National Office, January 28, 1930, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 2. Chicago Defender, January 31, 1931, 2. 3. Interview with Dr. Falls on May 3, 1977. 4. Ibid. 5. Theophilus Mann to Press Service, December 30, 1931, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 6. White to Turner, March 3, 1930, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 7. Chicago Defender, March 8, 1930, 16. 8. Chicago Defender, November 5, 1932, 1. 9. Ibid., October 31, 1931, 1. 10. Interview with Dr. Arthur G. Falls on May 3, 1977 in Chicago. 11. Interview with Dr. Arthur G. Falls on May 17, 1977 in Chicago. For this chapter, what originated as the initial preferred spelling of the city’s founder surname, De Saible, will be used exclusively, as it does appear extensively. Du Sable became the preferred spelling after 1935. 12. See Christopher Robert Reed, The Chicago NAACP and the Rise of Black Professional Leadership, 1910–1966. 13. Memorandum, A.[llen] D. A.[lbert] to Byrne, March 31, 1928; and Maude A. Lawrence to Dr. Allen D. Albert, April 6, 1928, Chicago Urban League File, ACOP 14. Memorandum by Rufus C. Dawes, February 29, 1928, Jesse Binga File, ACOP; and [Allen D. Albert] to Robert S. Abbott, January 30, 1929, Robert S. Abbott File, ACOP. 15. Chicago Defender, May 13, 1933, 10. 16. See Reed, “All The World Is Here!” The pamphlet, “Why the Colored American 162
notes to pages 000–000 118–127
1 Is Not in The World’s Columbian Exposition,” was published before the event opened 2 and therefore did not report on the nuances and varied range of activities of the event 3 in their totality. 4 17. “The Last Day at the Fair,” November 11, 1933, 17. 5 18. Interview with Dr. Arthur G. Falls and Mrs. Lillian Proctor Falls on November 64, 1983 in Chicago. 7 19. Arthur G. Falls to Rufus C. Dawes, June 28, 1933, Chicago Urban League File, 8ACOP. 9 20. Interview with Dr. Arthur G. Falls and Mrs. Lillian Proctor Falls on November 104, 1983 in Chicago. 11 21. Illinois General Assembly, Journal of the House of Representatives, 58th sess., 12June 29, 1933, 1927–1928. 13 22. R. C. Miller to L. R. Lohr, July 7, 1930; and Miller to Mr. Rogers, March 29, 1933—both in R. C. Miller File, ACOP. 14 23. Interview by telephone with Rev. John D. Slaughter of Pattonville, Texas on 15 August 25, 2008. See also “World’s Fair of 1933: How Chicago’s Lakefront Bash Defied 16The Depression,” Chicago Tribune Magazine, August 14, 1983, 16–19, 21–27. To expe17rience the fair was to feel the compulsion to share this experience vicariously with 18others (see p. 26 of the latter article.) 19 24. Pittsburgh Courier, September 9, 1933, 1: 1. 20 25. A. C. MacNeal to Col. Robert Isham Randolph, May 5, 1933, NAACP File, 21ACOP. 22 26. Interview with Dr. Arthur G. Falls and Mrs. Lillian Proctor Falls, on Novem23ber 4, 1983 in Chicago. 24 27. In one of the early riot cases, a black man who was an occupant in a vehicle 25attacked by whites fought back and stabbed a white assailant to death. The survivor, in turn, was arrested and held in a jail cell with unattended wounds for a week. Pro26 test from the black civic and legal communities was swift and soon remedied that 27 miscarriage of justice. Forty-seven whites eventually were indicted. See Crisis (Janu28ary 1920): 129. Also, on MacNeal’s actions, see “Joint Committee to Secure Justice for 29Colored Riot Defendants to Whom It May Concern,” November 10, 1919, attached to 30Addams to Blaine, Blaine mss., NAACP File. 31 28. White to [Marcus] Hirschl, October 16, 1930; and Bagnall to Weaver, October 3216, 1930, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 33 29. Bagnall to Weaver, October 16, 1930, Branch Files, NAACP Papers. 34 30. Roy Wilkins to Herbert Turner, October 31, 1932, Branch Files, NAACP 35Papers. 36 31. Frederick Burgess Lindstrom, “The Negro Invasion of the Washington Park 37Subdivision” (unpubl. M.A. thesis, University of Chicago, 1941), 6. 32. Herman H. Long and Charles S. Johnson, People vs. Property (Nashville: Fisk 38 University Press, 1947), 13. 39 33. Ibid., 67. 40 34. Reed, Chicago NAACP, 62, 71. See the connivance of local government with 41white housing groups in Barnett Hodes, City of Chicago Corporation Counsel to 42 notes to pages 127–131 000–000
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Hon. W. J. Crowley, July 29, 1938, Adm. File, Subject File: 1910–1940, SegregationChicago, NAACP Papers.
6. Cultural Stirrings and Conclusion 1. Clovis E. Semmes, The Regal Theater and Black Culture (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2006), 39–41; and Reich, “Hotter Near the Lake,” 18. 2. “Floyd Campbell” in Dempsey J. Travis, An Autobiography of Black Jazz (Chicago: Urban Research Institute), 240. 3. Quoted in Howard Reich, “Hotter Near the Lake: From King Oliver to Nat ‘King’ Cole and Beyond, Chicago Has Been a Wellspring of Great Jazz,” Chicago Tribune Magazine, September 5, 1993, 12. 4. Wallace D. Best, Passionately Human, No Less Divine: Religion and Culture in Black Chicago, 1915-1952 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 102–108. 5. Ibid., 112–3. 6. Langston Hughes, Not Without Laughter (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1963 [1930]) chapters XVIII–XXX; and [Conroy], “African American Literature in Illinois,” Box 46, Folder 1, 23, IWP. 7. John H. Johnson, Succeeding Against the Odds: The Inspiring Autobiography of One of America’s Wealthiest Entrepreneurs (New York: Warner Books, 1989), 60–61. 8. Cayton, Long Old Road, 175f. 9. Chicago Defender, October 1 and 29, 1932, 7. 10. See this contribution in an essay—Jeff Lyons, “Generations”; in a book— Christopher Robert Reed, Black Chicago’s First Century; Vol. 1, 1833–1900 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2005); in the use of two photographs—in the “Resistance” and “Literacy” sections of Darlene Clark and Kathleen Thompson, A Shining Thread of Hope: The History of Black Women in America (New York: Broadway Books, 1998); and in its inclusion in library collections—the Atkinson Collection at the Chicago Historical Museum and the Vivian G. Harsh Collection at the Carter G. Woodson Regional Library of the Chicago Public Library. 11. See Christopher Robert Reed, Black Chicago’s First Century; Vol. 1, 1833–1900 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2005) and The Chicago NAACP and the Rise of black Professional Leadership, 1910–1966 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1997). 12. See Darlene Clark Hine and John McCluskey Jr., eds., The Black Chicago Renaissance (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2011). 13. Harriet G. Warkel, “Image and Identity,” 37, in A Shared Heritage: Art by Four African Americans, ed. William E. Taylor and Harriet G. Warkel (Indianapolis: Indianapolis Museum of Art, 1996). 14. Christopher Robert Reed, “A Reinterpretation of Black Strategies for Change at the Chicago World’s Fair, 1933–1934,” Illinois Historical Journal 81 (Spring 1988): 2–12. 15. Annie E. Oliver to D. C. Collier, November 3, 1928, National De Saible Memorial Society File, ACOP. 164
notes to pages 000–000 132–137
1 16. Reed, “All The World Is Here!”, 131–139. 2 17. Bonnie McLaughlin, “Artists as Critics,” [Chicago] Reader, March 20, 1992, 1. 3 18. Oscar DePriest to Rufus C. Dawes, May 16, 1932, National De Saible Memorial 4File, ACOP. 5 19. A. L. Foster to D. C. Collier, April 30, 1928, Chicago Urban League File, 6ACOP. 7 20. Annie E. Oliver to D. C. Collier, November 3, 1928, National De Saible Memo8rial Society File, ACOP. 9 21. “Point De Saible Turns White,” Chicago Defender, April 22, 1933, 14. That the 10race ancestry of both De Saible and Mrs. Oliver was of interest is revealed in a note 11attached to W. H. Raymont to Miss McGrew, July 26, 1930, National De Saible Memo12rial Society File, ACOP. The note asks ,was De Saible “white or col—” and further 13states “I think De Saible was 1st resident white or colored.” 22. C. W. Fitch to Gen. Mgr./ATTN: Col. Boggs, March 14, 1933, National De 14 Saible Memorial Society File, ACOP. 15 23. Helen Bennett to Mary E. McDowell, July 13, 1932, Mary McDowell File, 16ACOP. See also memorandum, Asst. Dir. of Exh[ibits] to Dir. Of Exh[ibits], June 9, 171931; Annie Oliver to Albert, June 11, 1931; and Sewell to Oliver, June 17, 1931—all in 18National Memorial De Saible File, ACOP. 19 24. Chicago City Council, Journal of the Proceedings of the City Council, April 22, 201929, 110–111; and July 28, 1932, 2793–2794. 21 25. Annie E. Oliver to Helen M. Bennett, March 11, 1933, National Memorial De 22Saible File, ACOP. 23 26. See sample letter—Wallace et. al. to Gentlemen, Chicago World’s Fair Centen24nial Celebration, May 16, 1932, ACOP. 25 27. See Reed, “In the Shadow of Fort Dearborn: Honoring De Saible at the Chicago World’s Fair of 1933–1934,” Journal of Black Studies 21 (June 1991): 398–413. 26 28. Front page of De Saible Society, The Souvenir of Negro Progress, 1779–1925 27 (Chicago: De Saible Society, 1925). 28 29. “Crowd at Dedication of DeSaible Cabin in World’s Fair,” Chicago Defender, 29June 17, 1933, 1, 12. 30 30. See Christopher Robert Reed, “In the Shadow Of Fort Dearborn: Honoring 31De Saible at the Chicago World’s Fair of 1933–1934,” Journal of Black Studies 21 (June 321991): 398–413. 33 31. Interview with Mrs. Lillian O’Neil Neal on or about October 24, 1983 in 34Chicago. 35 32. Reed, “Black Chicago’s Civic Organization before 1935.” 36 33. Modupe Paris to Colonel John Stephen Sewell, Director of Exhibits, April 3, 371931, Modupe Paris File, ACOP. 34. Pamphlet, “Visit the african and american negro exhibits,” June 5–No38 vember 4, 1933, NAACP Papers. 39 35. Reed, “All The World Is Here!”, 194; and see the entirety of chapter 8, “Conti40nental Africa at the Fair: Dahomey Village.” 41 36. “Inquiries Pour In To ‘Negro Day’ Officials,” Pittsburgh Courier, July 29, 1933, 42 notes to pages 137–142 000–000
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1: 8; and “world’s fair negro day to show race progress,” Pittsburgh Courier, August 5, 1933, 1: 7. See also “’Negro Day’ To Be Big Gala Affair At World’s Fair,” Chicago Defender, July 29, 1933, 2. 37. “DePriest Fires a Broadside at Fair’s ‘Negro Day,’” Pittsburgh Courier, August 12, 1933, 1: 4; and “DePriest, Owen Fight to Draw in Fair Feud,” Pittsburgh Courier, August 19, 1933, 1: 3. 38. “DePriest, Owen Fight to Draw in Fair Feud,” 1: 3. 39. See Reed, “Black Chicago’s Political Realignment during the Depression and New Deal,” 242–256.
166
notes to pages 000–000 142–143
1 2bibliograp hy 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 Collections and Papers 16 17 Chicago History Museum [formerly the Chicago Historical Society] 18Atkinson Family Papers [including the Old Settlers Records]. 19Claude A. Barnett Papers 20Irene McCoy Gaines Papers 21Harold F. Gosnell Papers 22Arthur W. Mitchell Papers 23Olivet Baptist Church Records 24 Chicago Public Library, Harold Washington Library Center 25Carl B. Roden Papers 26Westside Neighborhood History 27 28 Chicago Public Library, Carter G. Woodson Regional Library Center 29Illinois Writers File. “The Negro In Illinois.” The Vivian G. Harsh Collection on Afro30 American History and Literature. 31 32 Library of Congress 33National Urban League Papers 34Papers of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People 35 State Historical Society of Wisconsin, Madison 36 Anita McCormick Blaine Papers as part of the Cyrus McCormick Papers 37 38 University of Chicago 39Harold F. Gosnell File, Robert Merriam Papers. 40Salmon O. Levinson Papers 41Julius Rosenwald Papers 42 bibliography
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University of Illinois at Chicago A Century of Progress Papers Chicago Urban League Papers Lawrence J. Gutter Collection on Chicagoana University of Nashville, Tennessee Charles S. Johnson Papers, Fisk University Library Private Holdings of the Author Anthony Binga, Jr. Family File. Richmond, Virginia Henry and Josephine Peay Slaughter Family File Ephemera. Including “Notes” of James E. Stamps on 1915 founding of the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History, c. 1964; “Orphans Of The Storm [Substitute Postal Employees],” typewritten copy of autobiographical sketch by Albert Brooks, c. 1985.
Government Documents City of Chicago. Chicago City Council. Proceedings of the Chicago City Council. City of Chicago. Department of Planning and Development. Black Metropolis Historic District. March 7, 1984. Rev. December 1994. City of Chicago. Department of Planning and Development. Chicago Historic Resources Survey. 1996. Illinois General Assembly. Journal of the House of Representatives. 58th session, 1933–1934.
Newspapers and Journals Chicago Bee (selective issues) Chicago Defender Chicago Tribune Chicago Whip (selective issues) Crisis Opportunity
Books and Articles Anderson, Jervis. A. Philip Randolph: A Biographical Portrait. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc., 1972. Armstrong, Mildred J. The Miracle on Fifty-Seventh Street: The History of the Church of the Good Shepherd [Congregational]. Chicago: Church of the Good Shepherd, c. 2003. Barnett, Claude A. “We Win A Place in Industry.” Opportunity 6 (March 1929): 82–86. 168
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1 2index 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16A Century of Progress (the Chicago World’s Fair of 1933) is abbreviated as 17 ACOP 18 19A Century of Progress (Chicago World’s 20 Fair of 1933), 4; compared to the 21 World’s Columbian Exposition of 22 1893, 136, 137, 140, 141; seen as a lit23 mus test on the diminution of racist 24 practices, 56, 125; seen as an economic 25 stimulus, 93–95 26Abbott, Robert S., 22; fails to support 27 the NAACP, 102, 105; invited to join 28 the initial ACOP funders, 125; plans to publish a new magazine, Abbott’s 29 Monthly, 134; speaks in the aftermath 30 of the eviction massacre, 87, 88 31Africa, interest in represented at the 32 ACOP, 136–140 33African and American Negro Exhibits, 34 141 35Anderson, Louis B., 45, 46, 48, 49; poli36 tical propaganda in his behalf, 46, 47; 37 punished politically by Mayor Anton 38 Cermak, 58, 59; ward statistics, 46 39Appomattox Club, 35, 55; assists the 40 NAACP, 101 Atkinson family, 13, 14; preservers of 41 black Chicago history, 135 42 index
Austin, Junius. C. (Rev.), 70; comments on the Communists, 117; opens church to gospel music, 133, 134 Bailey, William T., 141 Barnett, Albert G., criticizes ACOP as being racially exclusionary, 126; influences fellow newsman’s views of ACOP, 127 Barnett Claude A., 20, 21, 31 Bentley, Charles E. Dr., 17, 70; bequeaths his personal library to a future black neighborhood facility, 93 Bibb, Joseph D., 19, 67, 68, 71, 79 Binga, Jesse, 18; fails to support the NAACP, 102; invited to join initial funders of the ACOP, 125 Binga State Bank, 3; Binga seeks a bailout from the Chicago Clearinghouse Association, 18, 19; seeks a loan from Anthony Overton, 18 “Black Bugs” or “Black Reds,” 85 Black Metropolis, as a historical fact, 10; political realignment, 35, 36, 143; probability of collapse, 2, 3 Bontemps, Arna, 135 Boycott, used as a tactic of protest. See “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work,” campaign 177
Brazier, Arthur Bishop, 14 Bridges, Horace J., 28 Bronzeville, ii Brooks, Gwendolyn, 14, 15, 135 Brown, Oscar C. Sr., 13, 19 Buying power idea, 2, 76; Communist opposition, 66. See “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work” Campbell, Floyd, band leader who sees plenty of work for musicians, 133 Canaan, Gareth, 2, 145n2 Cayton, Horace R., 4, 17, 143, 135; as a social observer, 85, 86 Cermak, Anton J, Mayor, 6, 25, 48, 56, 57, 58, 87, 89; Communist hostility toward, 112; forces black job losses, 57 Chavers, P[earl] W[illiam], 16 Chavers-Wright, Helen Madrue, 16 Chicago Civil Liberties Union, 90, 92 Chicago Defender: on Communism, 117; on deteriorating economic conditions, 9; on pressuring transportation companies for jobs, 77; on the eviction riots, 90, 91; on the Whip’s economic campaign, 72, 75, 76 Chicago Tribune, sees a revolution brewing in the streets, 9, 55 Chicago Urban League, 2; affected by depression, 24; altered operational status, 24–34; assumes oppositional stance to judge Parker, 51; becomes active in relief work, 25; board meeting places, 25; relations with politicians, 33, 34; seeks to honor Jean Pointe Baptiste De Saible [Du Sable] at the ACOP, 138; supports the buying power campaign, 71, 75; supports the Sopkins strike, 119 Chicago Whip, 3, 5; ends publication, 22; initiates the buying power campaign of “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work,” 66–76 City workers, number of blacks, 10, 49 178
Civil rights, 42, 43, 129; as part of a movement, 122–131 Class structure and status, 31; structural change, 15, 16 Colored Citizens’ World’s Fair Committee, 4, 36, 129 Committee of Colored People on Relief for the Unemployed, 41, 44 Communists, 5, 24, 107; both opposition to and admiration for the Chicago Urban League, 121; call for moratorium on evictions, 84, 85; conflict with the NAACP, 119, 120; deviation from own economic doctrine, 24; electoral activities, 64, 65; forced to embrace a dual agenda with race now as a societal determinant along with class, 4, 24, 96, 97; embrace with reluctance the concept of racial distinction, 4; front, or allied, organizations,109, 110; face internal organizational racial friction, 112; membership, 116; mount major campaign challenging the establishment, 112–116; opposition to the “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work,” campaign, 73, 74; receive groundswell of support after eviction deaths, 91; seen by some blacks as champions of racial equality, 117; stage a Children’s Day protest demonstration, 92; unfounded accusations of Communist influence laid on black non-Communists, 129 Cox, Oliver Cromwell, 69, 73 Cress, Ida Mae, 12 Cronson, Berthold, Alderman, 79 Davis, Corneal, 60 Davis family, (Charles A. Sr.), 14 Dawes, Rufus C. Col., 127 Dawson, Charles C. (painted “Exodus” for the ACOP), 136 Dawson, William L. (politician), 58, 60 DeLemos, Justin, 74, 75
index
1 Demographics, general, 9, 10; in the 2 Second Ward, 46 3 De Priest, Oscar, Congressman, 35, 46, 4 47; challenges Mayor Thompson, 41; 5 faces challenge from Communists, 6 112; opposes concept of an all-black 7 party, 41; opposes Supreme Court 8 nomination of Judge John Parker, 50, 9 51; personifies the limited understan10 ding of the origins of the crisis, 37–41; 11 quiet on housing evictions, 92; speaks 12 in behalf of Senator Ruth Hanna 13 McCormick, 55; speaks to Congress against the dole, 41; supports Don’t 14 Spend Your Money Where You Can’t 15 Work campaign, 71; supports NAACP 16 movement both locally and natio17 nally, 38, 39, 105; supports street car 18 protests, 81 19De Saible [aka Du Sable], Jean Pointe 20 Baptiste as an icon at the ACOP, 21 137–140 22De Saible Men’s Club, 125, 126 23Dickerson, Earl B., angered over poli24 tical cover up of police brutality, 25 124; heads NAACP Legal Defense Committee, 106; organizational affi26 liations and leadership positions, 29, 27 31, 58, 62, 90, 98; saves Liberty Life 28 Insurance Company, 23 29Discrimination at public beaches, 129 30“Don’t Spend Your Money Where You 31 Can’t Work,” 2, 3, 5. See Chicago Whip 32 campaign 33Dorsey, Thomas, 133 34Doty, Edward, 115 35Douglass, Frederick, 141 36Douglass National Bank, 20, 21 37Draine, Ernest T., 124 Drake, St. Clair, 16 38 Dual agenda of economics and civil 39 rights for group advancement, 24; for 40 Communists, 96; for NAACP, 96 41Du Bois, W.E.B., 20 42 index
Duke, Charles S., 139, 141 Duster family, 12, 13 Ebenezer Baptist Church, 133, 134 Edwards, Thyra, 11, 12 Eighth Infantry regiment, Illinois National Guard, 40 Elections of 1930: loyalty to Republicanism, 54–56; results of traction bill, 78 Elections of 1931, aldermanic, 58–60; mayoral, 56, 57; Chicago NAACP is quietly involved, 63 Election of 1932, 118 Elections of 1933, 60 Electoral tendencies among black voters, 52 Ellington, Duke, 132, 133 “Eviction Riots,” 5; described, 84–93 Falls Arthur G. (Dr.), 25, 31, 33; staunch defender of equal rights on the ACOP fairgrounds, 127 Falls, Lillian Proctor, 27, 114 Fields, A.N., 135; opposes DePriest, 58, 59; opposes Thompson, 56, 57; shows scorn for economically dispossessed in housing, 92; writes in praise of DePriest, 42 Ford, James W., 110, 118 Fort Dearborn, 139 Foster, A. L., 31, 71, 75 Gaines, Harris B., State Rep., introduces civil rights legislation, 42, 43 Gaines, Irene McCoy, 17 George, Albert B. (Judge), 27, 30, 44, 52; election travails, 53, 105 George Cleveland Hall Library, 30; downtown library leadership’s fear of radicalism, 93 Goins, Irene, 17 Gosnell, Harold F., 17, 52, 75 Greater Bethesda Baptist Church, 21 Green, Walter and Malinda, 14 179
Hall, George Cleveland (Dr.), 22, 30, 71; persuades philanthropist Julius Rosenwald to build a public library on the South Side, 134 Hansberry family, 131 Harsh, Vivian T., 93, 134; establishes a literary salon at the George Cleveland Hall Library, 135 Haywood, Harry, 86, 108, 110 Helton, Jesse (“Pops”), origins of his discontent, 81, 82, 108 Henderson, Franklyn (member of the Atkinson family), 135 Hill, Richard, 21 Hoover, Herbert, 21, 39, 50, 55, 64 Hughes, Langston, 134 Hyde, Odis, 87 Hyde Park Property Owners Association, 130 Illinois Emergency Relief Commission, 45 Interracial Committee, 127 Jackson, Robert “Fighting Bob,” Alderman, 34, 45, 46, 47, 92 Jenkins, Charles J., State Rep., introduces civil rights legislation, 42, 43 Johnson, John, 134 Joint Committee for Employment, 2 Kingsley, Harold Rev., 72, 87 Knights of Pythias Building, as locus of black-inspired version of ACOP, 141 Lawyers, plan for the black community’s world fair’s exhibit, 141 Lewis, Morris, 105 Liberty Life Insurance Company, 23 Lightfoot, Claude, 79, 116, 118 Litwack, Leon F., ii Lyle, John H. Judge, 56, 57 MacNeal, A. C., 7, 22, 79, 88, 104; active 180
at ACOP, 129; challenges Communists, 106, 119, 120; described, 97–99 Major, Geri Hodges, 16 Mayes, Robert L., 80 McCormick, Ruth Hanna, U.S. Senator, 54, 55 McGee, Henry W., 14 Metropolitan Assurance Company, 23 Morris, Edward H., fails to support the NAACP, 102 Murray Superior Products Company, 29, 32 National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), 24; acts independently of the national office, 105; branch opposes nomination of Judge John H. Parker, 62; conflict with the Communists, 119, 120; cooperation with politicians, 4, 38, 39; non partisan stance in electoral politics, 61, 62; operational problems, 99; passivity in the aftermath of the eviction riot, 89, 90; politics as a negative force affecting branch operations, 63, 64; strong, yet silent, support for the “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work” campaign, 74 National De Saible Memorial Society, plans as early as 1928 for the ACOP, 138; Also see Mrs. Annie Oliver Neal, Lillian O’Neil, 128 “Negro Day,” at the ACOP, 137, 141–142 Nelson, Oscar, 19 Newton, Herbert, 112 Odd Fellows Hall, 91 Oliver, Annie (Mrs.), 126. See also National De Saible Memorial Society Olivet Baptist Church, 20, 51 Overton, Anthony, 18; fails to support the NAACP, 102; loses control over Victory Life Insurance Company, 23 Owen, Chandler, 141, 142
index
1 Paris, Modupe (Prince), 141 2 Parker, John H. Judge, 50, 63 3 Phalanx Forum Club, 101, 103 4Pierce, Elbridge Bancroft, 30, 33 5Pilgrim Baptist Church, 27, 133 6Police department: as a counterweight 7 to the Communist Party, 113; role in 8 Black Metropolis, 49, 55, 57, 123, 124 9Policy, 16, 17, 23, 49 10Politics and politicians: failure of state 11 level politicians to introduce econo12 mic solutions, 44, 45; involvement 13 and strengths, 5, 50; relationship with non political organizations, 4, 33, 34, 14 50, 61, 62; traction bill of 1930, 78, 79. 15 See elections in any particular year 16Poro College, 29 17Porter, James Hale, 67, 68 18Post Office, U. S.: status and employ19 ment at, 4, 16, 49; status of its wor20 kers, 100 21Proportionate hiring, 83 22Pullman porters, 16; status of the wor23 kers, 100 24 25Racial consciousness, as an impediment, 4 26 Reconstruction Finance Corporation, 39 27 Regal Theater, 132 28Restrictive covenants, 129–131 29Roberts, Adelbert B. (state senator), 42, 30 62, 87, 103, 105 31Roden, Carl B., 93 32Roosevelt, President Franklin D., 5, 8, 61, 33 64, 97, 143 34Rosenwald, Julius: builds first library in 35 the Black Metropolis, 134; ends sup36 port for Chicago Urban League, 27, 28 37Royal Gardens Cabaret, 1, 2 38 Scottsboro Boys, 105, 116, 119 39 Slaughter, John D., 128 40Snowden, Joanna Hudlin, 136 41Soders, Thomas T., 79, 82, 94, 95 42 index
Sopkins strike, 37, 118; Chicago Defender lends support, 119 South Park National Bank (proposed), 20 Stern, Alfred, 28 Storch, Randi, 108, 116 “Streets, The,” as a locus of protest activity, 5, 66 “Street Car Riots,” 5, 6; described, 77–83 Strickland, Arvarh, 34 Tate, “Big Bill,” 70 Thayer, Alonzo, 26, 90 Thompson, William (“Big Bill”), 25, 45, 56; opposes Sen. McCormick, 54, 55; speaks to City Council on economic distress, 48, 49 Titus, John, 95 TUUL (Trade Union Unity League), 110 Turner, Herbert (Dr.), 15, 51, 70, 89, 98, 102, 103; renders strong personal support for the “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work” campaign, 105; speaks out against Mayor Thompson, 55 Unemployed Councils, 85, 108 United Charities, 90 Victory Life Insurance, 23 Washington Intercollegiate Club, 2 Washington Park [Forum], meetings and locus of activism, 79, 86, 88, 108, 110 Weaver, Archie L., 51, 98, 99, 103 “Whole Loaf or None At All,” ideology, explanatory epigram, 122; rejects all but full equality, 99, 125 Wieboldt family, 29 Williams, A. Wilberforce (Dr.), 98 Woolworth’s Five & Ten. See “Don’t Spend Your Money Where You Can’t Work” 181
World’s Fair of 1933. See A Century of Progress Wright, Edward H., 22, 61; icon of black political independence, 37 Wright, Richard, 14, 17, 37, 40, 45, 116;
182
comments on the ineffectiveness of the NAACP in Native Son, 101; critical of faux Communists, 110, 111; forced to apply for welfare, 114; joins literary group, 135
index
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16Christopher Robert Reed is a native Chicagoan who has spent almost 17the entirety of his professional career researching and writing the his18tory of the African Americans of Chicago since the city’s settlement 19in 1770. He has managed to mesh his academic interests with commu20nity and civic responsibilities and currently serves as a member of the 21Board of Managers of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Boys and Girls 22Club as well as the Chicago Landmarks Commission and the Black Chi23cago History Forum. He is married, with three adult children and three 24grandchildren. 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 index
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