Author: Desto22

In 1875, Congress passed the Civil Rights Act, which forbade racial discrimination in access to public accommodations and facilities. A number of African Americans subsequently sued businesses that refused to serve Black customers. The Supreme Court heard five of those cases in 1883, and on October 15, 1883, it struck down the Civil Rights Act of 1875 in an 8-1 decision known as the Civil Rights Cases.

The Court held that the Fourteenth Amendment, which was cited as the constitutional authorization for the Civil Rights Act of 1875 and mandates “equal protection of the laws,” did not apply to private citizens or entities. The Court decided that the Equal Protection Clause applied only to actions taken or laws passed by state governments. Writing for the majority less than 20 years after the Thirteenth Amendment was ratified, Justice Joseph Bradley questioned the necessity and appropriateness of laws aimed at protecting Black people from discrimination:

“When a man has emerged from slavery, and, by the aid of beneficent legislation, has shaken off the inseparable concomitants of that state, there must be some stage in the progress of his elevation when he takes the rank of a mere citizen and ceases to be the special favorite of the laws, and when his rights as a citizen or a man are to be protected in the ordinary modes by which other men’s rights are protected.”

The Supreme Court’s decision in the Civil Rights Cases eliminated the only federal law that prohibited racial discrimination by individuals or private businesses and left African Americans who were victims of private discrimination to seek legal recourse in unsympathetic state courts. Racial discrimination in housing, restaurants, hotels, theaters, and employment became increasingly entrenched and persisted for generations. It would be more than 80 years before Congress tried again to outlaw discrimination by passing the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

Authorities charged four white people with unlawful assembly for convening a literacy class for Black residents in Wheeling, a city in present-day West Virginia that was then a part of Virginia.

That day, a group of free Black people met at a Wheeling schoolhouse to attend a literacy class taught by Ellen Richie, John Templeton, John Moore, and Stanley Cuthbert. When authorities learned about the gathering, they declared that the literacy class was “against the peace and dignity of the Commonwealth” and charged the four instructors under an anti-literacy law passed three years earlier by Virginia’s all-white legislature.

That 1831 law, which led to at least a dozen prosecutions in Wheeling alone, declared that “all meetings of free negroes or mulattos, at any school-house, church, meeting house or other place for teaching them reading or writing, either in the day or night, under whatsoever pretext, shall be deemed and considered as an unlawful assembly.” The law authorized officers to enter the meeting space, break up the meeting, and subject any Black person found in attendance to up to 20 lashes. White people convicted under the law faced a fine of up to $50—the equivalent of roughly $1,800 today—and could be imprisoned for up to two months.

The law was part of a wave of anti-literacy laws passed throughout the South targeting both free and enslaved Black people as well as those assisting them. Similar legislation was passed in Georgia (1829), Louisiana (1830), North Carolina (1830), and South Carolina (1834).

Yet, despite the criminalization of Black education—and the harsh legal and extrajudicial punishments inflicted on those accused of violating literacy laws—many Black people courageously found ways to circumvent these laws. Historians estimate that hundreds of thousands of Black people acquired literacy during the era of enslavement.

Members of the Black community in Roxboro, North Carolina, were terrorized by an ongoing campaign from a white lynch mob, threatening them to leave their homes or face racial violence.

In July 1920, a mob of local white residents in Roxboro seized an innocent Black farmworker, Ed Roach, from the Person County Jail where he was being held for the alleged assault of a white girl. In broad daylight, the mob took Mr. Roach to the churchyard, hanged him from a tree, and riddled his body with bullets. In the days after the lynching, Mr. Roach’s employer signed a written statement affirming Mr. Roach’s innocence, stating that he had been working with him when the crime occurred. No one was held accountable for his death.

After lynching an innocent man, the white mob sought to further terrorize members of the Black community. The self-identified “Person County Mob” claimed credit for the lynching and began distributing letters and threatening death, bombing, and other violence in an attempt to drive the Black community out of Person County.

In the early weeks of October, a Black community member received a letter signed from the “Person County Mob” that instructed him to leave town “or face a fate similar to that suffered by Ed Roach.” For weeks, each day, more letters were sent by the “Person County Mob” that called for the removal of the Black community from Roxboro or threatened violence.

An older Black woman who lived in a predominantly white area of the county received a letter telling her to move from her home within one week or face violence. She refused to move, and sticks of dynamite were detonated at her home while she was in it, tearing out the windows and doors of her house. She survived but was forced to move from her home.

In addition, white landowners were told to assist in getting Black tenants to leave and everyone was required to support the eviction of Black residents. No one was ever held accountable for this violence and terrorism in Person County.

Jonny Gammage, cousin and business partner of Pittsburgh Steelers football player Ray Seals, was detained during a traffic stop while driving Mr. Seals’s Jaguar in the working-class suburb of Brentwood. According to witness testimony, Lt. Milton Mulholland pulled Mr. Gammage over for tapping his brakes and called Officer John Votjas for backup. The officers later claimed that Mr. Gammage pointed an object at the officers—which turned out to be a cell phone—and struggled. Mr. Mulholland and Mr. Votjas, along with Officer Michael Albert, Sergeant Keith Henderson, and Officer Sean Patterson, ultimately pinned Mr. Gammage face-down on the pavement. After several minutes, the officers’ use of force suffocated Mr. Gammage and he died.

On November 27, 1995, Mr. Mulholland and Mr. Votjas were charged with third-degree murder, and Mr. Albert was charged with involuntary manslaughter. The charges against Mr. Mulholland and Mr. Votjas were later reduced to involuntary manslaughter. Mr. Henderson and Mr. Patterson were not charged in the incident.

Officer Votjas was acquitted by an all-white jury and, a year later, promoted to sergeant; Judge Joseph McCloskey dismissed charges against Mr. Mulholland and Mr. Albert after two trials resulted in mistrials. In January 1996, Brentwood police chief Wayne Babish, who had called for a complete investigation into Mr. Gammage’s death, was fired by the Brentwood City Council for failing to support the charged officers.

Multiple public protests were held in Pittsburgh and elsewhere, calling for “Justice for Jonny” and federal intervention. However, in 1999 the Department of Justice declined to file civil rights charges, stating that there was not enough evidence that unreasonable force had been used. Learn more about how a presumption of guilt and dangerousness makes people of color vulnerable to racial violence, wrongful convictions, and unfair treatment.

Tarrant County Sheriff Carl Smith and Deputy Tom Snow shot David Bunn, a handcuffed Black man, as he fled to escape a white lynch mob.

Four days before these officers shot Mr. Bunn, white mobs made three separate attempts to lynch him. On October 7, a mob of over 500 white men, women, and children surrounded the Tarrant County Jail, where Sheriff Carl Smith stood guard. The mob selected a committee of 15 white men to carry out the lynching, and Sheriff Smith permitted them to enter the jail. Finding no evidence of Mr. Bunn in that jail, the crowd selected a new lynching committee, whose members broke into the Fort Worth City Jail. After inspecting that jail and failing to locate Mr. Bunn, 21 white men got in their cars and drove across the county line to Dallas, intent on seizing Mr. Bunn from the Dallas County Jail and lynching him, but they failed in their attempt.

Threats of a future lynching continued to circulate in Dallas and Tarrant counties over the next several days. Sheriff Smith and Deputy Snow knew that white mobs intended to kidnap and lynch Mr. Bunn as they transported him from the Dallas County Jail to the Tarrant County Courthouse, so they planned to move him in the early morning hours, allegedly to avoid detection.

At 2:30 am on the morning of October 11, the officers handcuffed Mr. Bunn and loaded him into a police car. Mr. Bunn sat in terror as they drove, even saying to the officers that he feared being lynched. As they crossed the county line near Arlington, Sheriff Smith observed four automobiles approaching and identified these vehicles as members of the lynch mob, saying to Mr. Bunn “I think that’s them…”

Fearing for his life, Mr. Bunn jumped, in handcuffs, from the police car. Rather than capture Mr. Bunn and return him to their car, Sheriff Smith and Deputy Snow shot and killed him as the mob approached. Four bullets were lodged in his body before Mr. Bunn fell into a roadside ditch and died. No one faced charges or accountability for Mr. Bunn’s murder.

Three Mexican nationals were killed in central California during cotton growers’ attempts to break a strike waged by roughly 15,000-18,000 cotton pickers and cotton gin workers. Roughly 95% of the strikers were Mexican migrant workers, whose pay had fallen more than 75% since 1930—even as the price of cotton rose 150% in 1932. The strikers were demanding pay of $1 per 100 pounds of cotton picked; the owners offered 60 cents.

Dolores Hernandez, a picker, and Delfino Davila, a Mexican consular representative, were shot and killed in Pixley, California, when at least 30 armed white ranchers confronted dozens of unarmed Mexican laborers who had gathered to hear one of the strike leaders speak. Eight other strikers were shot and wounded by the ranchers. Pedro Subia, the third person killed that day, was shot in a separate incident when other armed growers and police confronted strikers at a nearby farm; three other strikers were shot and wounded alongside Mr. Subia.

Days earlier, growers had tried to break the strike by evicting the Mexican workers and their families from housing on the growers’ property. When the workers and families maintained the strike and camped in nearby fields, growers conspired with local authorities and businesses to refuse them access to food. Even the federal government promised food aid only if the migrant farmworkers acceded to the growers’ demands; over the course of two weeks, seven children of strikers reportedly died from malnutrition.

The strike ended on October 26, 1933, when the growers agreed to pay strikers 75 cents per 100 pounds of cotton. In February 1934, eight ranchers standing trial for the murder of Dolores Hernandez and Delfino Davila were found not guilty by an all-white local jury. No one was ever tried for killing Pedro Subia.

A Black man named Bob Hudson was shot to death by a white lynch mob in Weakley County, Tennessee, near the town of Dresden. According to reports, Mr. Hudson’s wife filed charges of assault and battery against a white man, who was subsequently arrested and fined. In retaliation, 10 masked white men dragged Mrs. Hudson from her home and whipped her severely. When Mr. Hudson ran to his wife’s defense, the mob shot and killed him.

During this era of racial terrorism, white men committed sexual violence against Black women with impunity, while the most baseless fears of sexual contact between a Black man and white woman regularly resulted in deadly violence. Nearly one in four Black men lynched between 1877 to 1945 were accused of improper contact with a white woman. Meanwhile, white men were rarely arrested, let alone convicted or punished for assaulting Black women—or committing lynchings—and, as in this case, if Black people even dared to seek help from authorities, they could be subjected to lethal violence.

Including Bob Hudson, at least six African American victims of racial terror lynching were killed in Weakley County, Tennessee, between 1877 and 1950. Learn more about how over 6,500 Black women, men, and children were victims of racial terror lynching in the U.S. between 1865-1950.

In Birmingham, Alabama, Police Commissioner Eugene “Bull” Connor announced that a planned All-Star baseball game organized by Jackie Robinson—almost a decade after he integrated Major League Baseball—would not be permitted to play in the city. Mr. Robinson, who previously toured the country with an all-Black team, signed notable white players Al Rosen, Ralph Branca, and Gil Hodges to join the interracial All-Stars. Ten days before the game was to take place, Commissioner Connor notified the public that the event would be banned if white players were going to play because “there is a city ordinance that forbids mixed athletic events.”

Bull Connor was a notorious segregationist with close ties to the Ku Klux Klan, and this was one of many actions he would take during his tenure to resist integration. In addition, Mr. Connor facilitated—and in some cases ordered—acts of violence against peaceful protestors. In 1961, he allowed a white mob armed with pipes to attack the Freedom Riders, Black and white college students who rode buses through the South to challenge illegal segregation in interstate transportation. In 1963, the entire world witnessed Mr. Connor’s brutality when Martin Luther King Jr. came to Birmingham to lead a children’s protest against racial segregation. Mr. Connor ordered the fire department to blast nonviolent protestors—most of them children—with high-pressure firehoses and commanded police to attack them with batons and police dogs. Mr. Connor never repudiated his defense of white supremacy or denounced his use of police violence.

Jackie Robinson devoted his life not only to baseball, but also to the fight for civil rights and equality for all. After being the first Black player to integrate major league baseball and leading the Brooklyn Dodgers to the World Series, he devoted himself to civil rights causes in his retirement.

After careful consideration and discussions with members of the Birmingham community, Mr. Robinson decided to move forward with the game and bench the white players rather than cancel. This decision was partly made in response to fears that successfully shutting down the game entirely might help Mr. Connor win a bid for Birmingham mayor. The game did happen, with only Black players participating, and marked the intense resistance to racial integration that defined Alabama for generations.

Hundreds of Black Selma residents attempting to register to vote were met by state and local officials who used stalling and intimidation tactics to deny them that right and violence against supporters attempting to give them food and water as they waited in line.

In 1963, representatives of civil rights organizations such as the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the Dallas County Voter’s League (DCVL) organized Black residents of Selma, Alabama, to challenge discriminatory voter registration practices. At the time, Dallas County was 58% Black, but less than 1% of eligible Black residents were registered to vote. During 1963, Dallas County Sheriff Jim Clark met their voter registration efforts with harassment and violent resistance, joined by other local law enforcement officers and segregationist supporters who participated in violence against Black residents with impunity. Hundreds of Black residents were arrested, beaten, or threatened in Selma during the first half of 1963.

On the morning of October 7th, on what SNCC and DCVL called “Freedom Day,” 350 Black residents of Selma bravely lined up at the county courthouse—risking their livelihoods—and attempted to register to vote. The registrars intentionally slowed down the proceedings, limiting registration to only a few people every hour and ensuring that only a small handful of those waiting in line would be able to register. Sheriff Clark, his deputies, and supporters forbade Freedom Day participants from leaving the line to eat, drink, or use the restroom.

At 12:30 pm, a group of 40 state troopers arrived and assisted local law enforcement in intimidating the Freedom Day participants. Because those waiting to register to vote could not leave the line to eat or drink, at one point, a group of organizers attempted to bring food and water to the Black residents waiting in line. These organizers were beaten and shocked with cattle prods by the state and local officials. A reporter was also beaten by state troopers. Representatives of the FBI and the Department of Justice witnessed these unlawful attacks but did nothing to intervene.

Beth Humphrey, a white woman from Hammond, Louisiana, called Keith Bardwell, a white justice of the peace in Tangipahoa Parish, to ask him to sign a license for her to marry Terence McKay, a Black man. Mr. Bardwell’s wife informed Ms. Humphrey that he would not sign a marriage license for an interracial couple.

Mr. Bardwell, a justice of the peace for over 30 years, later estimated he had denied marriage licenses to several interracial couples during the previous two and a half years. After his refusal was publicized and generated controversy, Mr. Bardwell defended his actions, insisting that he “does not believe in mixing races in that way.”

Ms. Humphrey expressed shock at Mr. Bardwell’s views: “That was one thing that made this so unbelievable. It’s not something you expect in this day and age.”

Throughout most of the 20th century, there were legal bans on interracial marriage. In 1967, in Loving v. Virginia, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down such bans, holding that they violated the Equal Protection Clause. But resistance to enforcing this constitutional mandate was slow. The State of Alabama did not change the prohibition on interracial marriage in its constitution until 2000.