Read Slavery by Another Name Online
Authors: Douglas A. Blackmon
wal s to the famous apple tree, who went to the bat le elds of
Virginia and poured out their blood like water in defense of our
Southern homes."14
Colonel Wiley fol owed with an unrepentant message that while
Colonel Wiley fol owed with an unrepentant message that while
"good negroes" deserved the care of the courts and the a ection of
white southerners, other blacks did not. "Shiftless vagabonds" take
the money of farms and violate contracts, just as Glennie Helms had
done, Wiley said. "If they were to be protected in this sort of thing
the farmers of this country would be ruined," he concluded.
After a two-hour break to cool the courtroom, Reese returned
with the government's nal argument. Lacing his closing with
references to the Bible and a passage in Exodus denouncing those
who tra c in slaves, he scored members of the gal ery who sneered
when blacks were referred to in court as "American citizens." Reese
argued that Turner deserved no mercy. "He bought the negroes just
like one of you would buy a horse or a cow," Reese told the jury.
"Can this man come here and ask you for mercy after that?"
After 5 P.M., Judge Jones began an emotional two-hour charge to
the jury. O ering a detailed history of the peonage statute and the
laws of labor in the United States, he reviewed the evidence
presented and then explicitly urged the jurors to put aside the
appeals to Civil War loyalties and white racial al egiance o ered by
Turner's lawyers. Jones, visibly aroused, left lit le doubt as to the
verdict the jury should reach. "If you believe from al the evidence
that Turner bought this darky, took him to his place, forced him to
stay there, when he wanted to go away, and worked him as a
convict under guard to liquidate the debt paid for him, then he is
guilty," Jones said.15
Representative Wiley and Colonel Bulger shifted nervously as the
judge al but instructed the jury to convict their clients. In truth
there was also lit le doubt what would happen. Within hours of
beginning deliberations that night, word spread through the
courthouse that the jury was deadlocked—with eight men voting for
acquit al and four to convict.
Noti ed of the split the fol owing morning, an exasperated Judge
Jones cal ed the jury back into the courtroom. His con dence that
southern white men could be counted on to police themselves was
badly shaken. "If you do not return a verdict of guilty you wil
badly shaken. "If you do not return a verdict of guilty you wil
perjure yourselves in the sight of God and dishonor yourselves in
the eyes of men," Jones told the jurors. Representative Wiley rose to
object, but the judge ordered him silent and told the jurors they
would not be excused until a verdict was reached. "The court does
feel impel ed under an earnest and solemn sense of duty as to the
verdict you ought to render in this case, to appeal to your
manhood, your sense of justice, and your oaths, not to declare that a
jury in the Capital of Alabama would not enforce the law of the
United States because it happened that a negro is the victim of the
violated law and the defendant is a white man."16
When the jury resumed deliberations, the vote shifted to seven
men for conviction and ve for acquit al. But among those ve,
there was no possibility of change. On July 13, the jury reported
that they were impossibly deadlocked. Judge Jones, barely
concealing his scorn, declared a mistrial and set the Turners free.
"God forbid that the time wil ever come in this country when
you are helpless and distressed and have been the victim of
oppression when you wil be denied that protection of the law to
which you appeal and to which every law-abiding human being is
entitled among al civilized people," Jones told the jury. Reese
vowed to bring the Turners back to trial before another jury17
That would not be needed. On the fol owing Monday, Fletcher
Turner surprised Montgomery when he returned to the federal
building and took a seat with his at orney at the front of the gal ery.
When Judge Jones convened court to begin selection of jurors for
the peonage trial of Robert Franklin, one of Turner's lawyers, N. M.
Lackey, rose to speak. Turner was ready to plead guilty to a charge
of peonage in order to avoid further prosecution on any other
charges and in return for the dismissal of the counts against his son.
"My client did not realize that he was violating the law. He did not
know that he was doing anything that was not justi ed by law,"
Lackey explained. "If any cruelty was practiced it was done without
the consent of my client. In this af air my client was mistaken."18
Judge Jones insisted that the facts proved Turner engaged in true
Judge Jones insisted that the facts proved Turner engaged in true
slavery. "He purchased their liberty and services," the judge
remonstrated, as Turner stood emotionless before the bench. But
Judge Jones was no naive young Republican prosecutor. Even as he
lectured the unrepentant farmer stil driving slaves forty years after
emancipation, Jones knew hardly any jury in America, most
certainly not one in Alabama, could be relied on in 1903 to convict
the man before him. A new trial would accomplish nothing. He
accepted the plea of guilty, levied a ne of $1,000, and the case
was closed.
IX
A RIVER OF ANGER
The South Is "an armed camp."
In the three months since Reese began his slavery investigation, the
guilt of every defendant cal ed to court had in one manner or
another been established. He'd won the personal at ention and
support of the U.S. at orney general and of President Roosevelt
himself. Indeed, a new position had just been created in his o ce
to oversee an even more expansive at ack on slavery. Reese
believed history, and the power of the nation, were with him. Even
rabidly anti-black, white supremacist politicians and newspapers
such as the Montgomery Advertiser initial y reacted with
embarrassment to the peonage charges that so suddenly burst into
the public eye.
In truth, the mistrial in the case of Fletcher Turner marked an
ominous reversal. Resentment to the exposure of the new slavery
was growing. Other voices, defiant and rancorous, began to rise.
On the Saturday before Turner's surprise guilty plea, Alabama
secretary of state He in spoke to an annual reunion of Confederate
veterans in the town of Luverne, issuing a ringing endorsement of
how men such as Pace and Turner had nobly returned black
workers to their proper position as slaves and at acking Reese and
Judge Jones as wil ing to sacri ce the honor of southern whites in
return for advancement under President Roosevelt. They were nest
foulers and "nigger lovers," cried supporters of the accused. He in
and his al ies said any man who did not defy them deserved al the
contempt of the white South.
Reese and He in traded charges through the newspapers—the
U.S. at orney asserting that He in deceitful y mischaracterized the
facts of the case; He in, annealing his coarse racism in the language
of the U.S. Constitution, retorted that Judge Jones was usurping the
American ideals of trials by jury. 1
American ideals of trials by jury.
While the Turner trial was under way, a frenzied mob in
Scot sboro, Alabama, gunned down the town sheri in front of his
family as he refused to turn over a black teenager who had
al egedly "at empted criminal assault" on a nineteen-year-old white
girl. Once the sheri was dead, the black man was seized from his
cel and hanged from a telegraph pole that night.
Midway through the trial, a lawyer in Dothan, Alabama,
telegraphed Reese to report that a client, Enoch Pat erson, was
being held in peonage by the town's chief of police. Obviously, no
local system of justice was available to defend Pat erson. "I have no
redress here for his wrongs," the lawyer wrote. "I know of no way to
get justice for him but to submit the mat er to you."2 Similar
charges owed into his o ce, so numerous and substantial that
Reese—already frenzied with the duties of the trial and other
indictments—could barely manage to send acknowledgments of the
information, much less open investigations.
In Georgia, al egations surfaced in the court of Judge Emory
Speer, in the cot on-dense version of that state's Black Belt, that the
family of state representative Edward McRee, one of the most
prominent in the state, was operating a slave plantation even more
expansive and brutal than anything al eged in Tal apoosa County.
Across the nation, the spring and summer of 1903 marked a
venomous turn in relations between blacks and whites. A pal was
descending on black America, like nothing experienced since the
darkest hours of antebel um slavery. If anything, the poisoned
atmosphere and accelerating disintegration of the structure of civil
society more resembled to blacks a time two centuries earlier, when
white slave traders and their corrupted indigenous al ies descended
without explanation upon the vil ages of West Africa to plunder the
native population. For at least the next four decades, especial y on
the backcountry roads and rural rail lines of Louisiana, Mississippi,
Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida, no black person
living outside the explicit protection of whites could again feel ful y
secure.
secure.
The plummeting position of black Americans was driven by the
convergence of transforming currents in American life. In the years
of abolitionist fervor before and after the Civil War, northern whites
who pushed for ful citizenship for black freedmen operated under
naive assumptions. Many believed that once schools and wages
were extended to liberated slaves, they could be quickly and ful y
assimilated into U.S. society. In the span of half a generation, they
imagined the nation's eleven mil ion African Americans learning to
read and write and becoming dark-skinned versions of the yeoman
white farmers fanning across the western prairies.
Human slaves had been freed many times before—from the
Israelites, to the Romans, to Africans in the vast British Empire as
recently as 1834. But no society in human history had at empted to
instantly transform a vast and entrenched slave class into immediate
ful and equal citizenship. The cost of educating freed slaves and
their children came to seem unbearably enormous, even to their
purported friends. Their expectations of compensation radical y
altered the economics of southern agriculture. And even among the
most ardent abolitionists, few white Americans in any region were
truly prepared to accept black men and women, with their
seemingly inexplicable dialects, mannerisms, and supposedly
narrow skil s, as true social equals.
Moreover, Charles Darwin's stil new theory of evolution was
threading through American culture with unintended sinister
repercussions. Before the publication of Darwin's landmark On the
Origin of Species in 1859, virtual y al Americans viewed the
presumed higher and lower racial order of whites, blacks, and
native Indian tribes as mandated by God. But the nearly ubiquitous
acceptance of Christianity by American blacks—at the active
encouragement of whites—also clearly established the essential
humanity of slaves. Christianity said slaves—despite their legal
categorization as chat el—and their owners were indisputably
members of the same race. Regardless of the violence used by
whites against slaves, there was a loose consensus, even in the
South, that whites and blacks were linked in their humanity and
South, that whites and blacks were linked in their humanity and
that God demanded some measure of moral consideration and
compassion for al . Northern opposition to slavery before the Civil
War was deeply rooted in this religious precept.
But swirling concepts of evolution upended those traditions.
Dehumanizing interpretations of the racial order were unleashed—
driven and de ned not just by skin color but by ever more re ned
concepts of blood. A new conceit of multiple, distinct human
species emerged. The Indian wars of the 1870s solidi ed a growing
sense of genetical y propel ed white superiority and of raw violence
as an appropriate method of protecting white political supremacy