History That Doesn't Suck - 101: The New South, Jim Crow (Plessy v. Ferguson), & the Death of Frederick Douglass

Episode Date: November 8, 2021

“Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel?” This is the story of the Gilded Age below the Mason-Dixon Line.  In the years since the Civil War, the cotton industry has been reshaped. The South has more international competition and is opening more of its own cotton mills. It’s a significant and deeper step into a post-slavery, industrial economy. This “New South” post-slavery economy has also turned to a new farming model: sharecropping. But amid forced labor contracts, shady dealings, and a massacre in Thibodaux, Louisiana, some are left wondering: how different is the former from the latter? Meanwhile, Southern “redeemer” Democrats are pushing new state laws that specify “equal but separate” accommodations based on race. Black Americans, however, call it a clear targeting and violation of their civil rights guaranteed by the US Constitution’s 14th Amendment. When Louisiana passes its “Jim Crow” Separate Car act, a mixed-race Creole from New Orleans named Homer Plessy will fight it through the courts. His challenge will go all the way to the US Supreme Court. But as the South industrializes and Jim Crow spreads, we also say a painful goodbye to an old friend. It’s time to lay Frederick Douglass to rest. Sleep well, Old Man Eloquent. You’ve more than earned your eternal slumber. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. From the creators of the popular science show with millions of YouTube subscribers comes the MinuteEarth podcast. Every episode of the show dives deep into a science question you might not even know you had, but once you hear the answer, you'll want to share it with everyone

you know. Why do rivers curve? Why did the T-Rex have such tiny arms? And why do so many more kids need glasses now than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this

work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. This episode contains stories of racial violence that some listeners may find disturbing. Listener discretion is advised. It's a beautiful summer afternoon, Tuesday, June 7th, 1892. A well-dressed 29-year-old man is standing in line to buy a train ticket at New Orleans Press Street Train Depot. Reaching the ticket window, he politely asks the attendant for a seat on the East Louisiana Railroad's number 8 up to Covington.

It's a mere 60-mile trip to the other side of Lake Pontchartrain, but this dapper gentleman will travel in style. He purchases a first-class ticket, then walks off to awake the train. Sounds like a lovely time. There's only one problem. The moment he uses that ticket, our traveler will be violating the law.

Okay, time out. We need some serious background. Stay with me. As you likely recall from episodes 73 through 76, the Civil War was followed by a decade and a half known as Reconstruction. This was a period of rebuilding the South. Not just physically after the destruction of war, but also in terms of creating a new society rid of a slave economy, as the new 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution promised. When Reconstruction reached its radical phase, the goal was stepped up to include actual equality for Black Americans.

Congress sent federal troops to occupy the former Confederacy to ensure these changes. Meanwhile, these states prepared new constitutions, and the U.S. Constitution was amended two more times. The 14th promised full citizenship on a non-racial basis. The 15th likewise took race out of the picture on voting rights. But despite these actions and other legislation, civil rights for Black Americans have backpedaled in the years since. The Supreme Court has overturned the 1875 Civil Rights Act. Southern states have passed laws curtailing the vote to those who can pass literacy tests or pay poll taxes. They're avoiding the word race, but the result is effectively nullifying the vote of

Southern black men. As former slaves once forbidden from learning to read, they've had neither the time nor resources to gain the education or wealth these laws require for the vote. Nor is that the worst of it. The White League and other white supremacist groups are using violence and murder to terrorize black voters and keep them away from the polls. Meanwhile, other laws are dividing Americans along racial lines. The premise here is that, although black Americans are now full citizens, they can be accommodated on a separate basis from white citizens. These are called Jim Crow laws, and just two years ago, in 1890, the Louisiana legislature passed one, the Separate Car Act. It proclaims that all railroads in the state, quote, shall provide equal but separate accommodations for the white and colored races

by providing two or more passenger coaches for each passenger train, or by dividing the passenger This equal but separate notion isn't flying with leaders in New Orleans' black community, though. The Crescent City is home to many accomplished, successful mixed-race creoles, and some of them have formed a citizens' committee, known in this French-infused land as the Communauté des Citoyens. They're determined to fight these Jim Crow laws that, far from providing separate but equal opportunities, are in fact excluding people of color,

or gens de couleur, from the highest echelons of society. Like this separate car act, it's really just keeping people of African descent from riding in first-class cars. Ah, and that's why the Citizens Committee and their white civil rights activist lawyer, Albion W. Tourget, have asked our traveler, a certain mixed-race Creole named Mr. Homer Plessy, to ride this train today in first class. He's not actually here to go to Covington. He's here to break the law willfully

so the committee can challenge its constitutionality through a trial. And Homer is the perfect man for the job. A polite, well-spoken, well-dressed, well-to-do 29-year-old family man with deep roots in Louisiana and no criminal record, Homer Plessy is a model citizen. He also has the racial makeup required to pull this off. Homer is seven-eighths white and one-eighth black. In terms

of appearance, historical records tell us that, quote, the mixture of colored blood was not discernible in him, close quote. To be blunt, Homer looks white, and that's why he was even able to buy a first-class ticket. It's also how he expects to be able to board his train. But as far as the law is concerned, one-eighth black is black, period. That means he's also eligible for arrest, assuming someone knows his lineage. Now, the Citizens Committee has a well-laid plan for all of this,

but there's no saying things will follow the script. Others have been beaten or killed for what Homer is about to do. Okay, enough background. You're up to speed. Let's follow Homer onto this first-class train car. It's now just past 4pm. Homer climbs aboard the East Louisiana Railroad's number 8 train. Our dapper gentleman makes his way through the crowds up to the first class car and enters.

Now we don't know exactly what happens in this moment. How does this fair skinned great grandson of an 18th century enslaved woman make his ancestry known? It's possible he volunteers that information while handing his ticket to the train conductor, J.J. Dowling. It's also possible that J.J. is in on the plan, as the railroads dislike these Jim Crow laws that increase their operational costs. Insider or not, the conductor asks Homer if he's white. Or perhaps if he's black. Sources conflict. But whatever the wording, Homer does his job. Standing in a crowd that, for all he knows, could, as in similar past situations, turn hostile, Homer politely but clearly affirms the fact that, appearance is notwithstanding, he is, according to law, a black man.

This is Christopher C. Cain's queue. A private detective with deputized powers to make arrests, the Citizens Committee arranged for Chris to be here. They couldn't risk some other officer arresting Homer on a different charge, like disturbing the peace. Chris does his job to perfection. Taking Homer into custody, Chris escorts him off the yet-to-depart train and books him at a nearby police station for having violated the Pelican State's Separate Car Act. The plan has gone off

without a hitch. Members of Le Comité des Citoyens pay Homer's bail and have him free that same day. Homer is safe, and his willful act of civil disobedience has provided the committee with the opportunity they need to challenge this Jim Crow law in the courts. But will they prevail? Or will Jim Crow withstand their attack and attempt to regain ground lost since Reconstruction? We'll find out soon enough as this case goes to the U.S. Supreme Court.

This is Plessy v. Ferguson. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. We've met the Gilded Age's dreamers, inventors, and titans of industry in recent episodes. But much of that history is concentrated in the North. Today, we head south of the old Mason-Dixon line for the Gilded Age story of the New South. A land of industrialization and, increasingly, these racially segregating Jim Crow laws. We'll start by exploring the economic side of things with a visit to a cotton mill, then an old cotton plantation, where sharecropping is the order of the day. But how

different is it from slavery? That's a question that will likely sit with us as a protesting group of agricultural workers meet a deadly outcome in Thibodeau, Louisiana. From there, we'll learn more about Jim Crow before bidding a hard farewell to an old friend we've met in many a past episode, the fierce abolitionist Frederick Douglass. And in the wake of his death, we'll explore the era's constitutional thought as Southern states adopt new constitutions and the U.S. Supreme Court examines Homer Plessy's case, which will lead it to decide whether separate but equal is considered constitutional. I'm sure you can already tell, but I'll say it anyway. This episode is not one of the lighter ones. We've got some truly

hard material here. This is one of the heartbreakers. So, with that heads up, let's leave Homer temporarily and head back to the end of Reconstruction to set the stage as we enter the Gilded Ages' New South. Rewind. So, the end of Reconstruction. We saw this era come to a close in Episode 76 with the presidential election of 1876, but here's a quick refresher. Amid a contested outcome, Democrats yield the White House to Republican Rutherford B. Hayes. In return, Republicans agree to end federal attempts to reform the South. This includes withdrawing its muscle, those federal troops. The White League and other white supremacist groups welcome this news. They see this as a return of what they call home rule or Southern redemption.

Many Southern Democrats will even call themselves quote-unquote Redeemers as they seek to wrest power from the Black Southerners, White Carpetbag Northerners, and White Scallywag Southerners that comprise the South's Republicans. But to what extent can these so-called Redeemers restore the antebellum South? Much has changed since the war. Not just legally with new laws and constitutional amendments that make a straight-up return impossible, but the Gilded Age itself is a very different world. Even the cotton industry has changed. Since the Civil War's economic disruptions, other producers, like India and Egypt, have taken a significant share of the South's former cotton export gain. So what is the land

where cotton is keen to do? It has little choice but to lean into the Gilded Age's industrial economy by ramping up its own share of local cotton textile mills. It's in this context that the Georgian newspaper man and editor of the Atlantic Constitution, Henry W. Grady gives a speech at a meeting of the New England Club in New York City on the night of December 21st, 1886. In doing so, he proclaims the Old South of slavery and secession to be dead. From there, he goes on to assert, The Old South rested everything on slavery and agriculture. The new South presents a perfect democracy, a social system compact and closely knitted, less splendid at the surface but stronger at the core,

a diversified industry that meets the complex needs of this complex age. So which version of the post-Reconstruction South is right? Will the South's Democrats stomp out the progress of Reconstruction? Or is the new South shaping up in the image that our Georgian journalist depicts for his Northern audience? Could it be something in between? We shall see. And we begin with a peek into the life

at one of the South's now many and booming cotton mills. It's an unspecified date, likely in 1888 or 1889. A relatively poor, white, North Carolina family has just moved to Darlington, South Carolina. And yes, Bruce Springsteen fans, this is the same Darlington the boss will later sing about in his hit, Born in the USA. But we're a century away from that.

Today, we're here with nine-year-old Fanny, whose maiden name won't be recorded in her much later interview, as she starts her first day of work. Coming downstairs, Fanny feels strange and lonesome-like. And honestly, who wouldn't be? She and her family, including nine siblings, have moved here to give up farming to work in Darlington's new cotton mill.

Young Fanny doesn't know a soul, and it's her first day of work in a way of life far different than what she's ever known. Sensing Fanny's discomfort, her aging, white-bearded grandpa picks up the nine-year-old and gives her two $1 bills. Take these to your mother and tell her to buy you some pretty dresses and make them nice for you to wear in this mill. Yeah, times may change, but grandparents sneaking gifts to their grandchildren? That's timeless.

Fanny makes her way to the mill, where she and other children comprise a sizable minority of the workforce. Yes, the practice of hiring children in industrial factories, which as we know from episode 19 has been going on since the start of the Industrial Revolution, is still in full swing. Right now, in the 1880s, roughly one quarter of the cotton manufacturing industry's workers are kids, much like the children up north laboring in other factories. Many in this pre-progressive era

will tell you child labor is simply a necessity of life. But more and more Americans are coming to disagree, and they find its practice in the New South to be worse than the North. Allow me to quote the poet Edwin Markham's vivid, condemning description. In the southern cotton mills, we find a gaunt, goblin army of children keeping their forced march on the factory floors. An army that outwatches the sun by day and the stars by night. A spectral army of pygmy people sucked in from the hills

to dance behind crazed wheels. Children complete dangerous tasks in these mills, and they're inexpensive to hire. One 1887 North Carolina mill worker will write, quote, the employment of children in the mills at low wages keeps a great many men out of employment. Close quote.

So it is with Fanny. For her first three weeks on the job, the mill managers teach her how to weave day in and day out. Once she learns to weave, the mill pays her roughly 25 cents a day. That's about average for child laborers in textile mills. They make roughly $90 a year. Compare that to the adult men and women who make $245 and $159 per year, respectively. Fannie will work in the mills for over a decade, bouncing all around South Carolina and Georgia as new railroad lines and cotton mills spring up throughout the South.

So it's clear then that cotton continues to hold a place of importance in the Southern economy. It now does so, however, with a more industrial slant. As one Thomas Nass cartoon in Harper's Weekly depicts, the Old South's King Cotton has been replaced by the Industrial New South's Queen Cotton Mill. In the 20 years between 1880 and 1900, the South's number of cotton mills will jump from 161 to 400. In a case that doesn't sound significant, consider this. Just 12 mills surrounding Charlotte, North Carolina, produce over $2 million worth of goods every year.

But as poor white Southerners increasingly leave their plows to take these dangerous, exhausting factory jobs, someone still has to harvest the raw cotton. And for the most part, this remains black labor under a new system, sharecropping. It's a bright, sunny April day, sometime in the mid to late 1880s. A black sharecropper known by his nickname of Baby is working on a cotton plantation in Elbert County, Georgia. Baby feels he has a pretty good life.

He and his wife, Mandy, live in a one-room log cabin on the plantation and he's making $3.50 a week. Not bad for a sharecropper, which is a class of farmers that work someone else's land and are usually paid with a portion or or share, of their crop or other goods. For her part, Mandy works in the big house, that is, the home of the plantation owner. That was the captain until he died earlier this year.

Now the cap's son, known as the Senator because of his state-level office, has inherited and is in charge. Okay, before I continue with this specific day, let me give you a bit more background. For five years, Babies renewed his annual labor contract on this lousy-with-nicknames plantation. But this year was a little different. Since things have been so good for so long, the Senator recommended they spare themselves the trouble of annual renewals

by signing a 10-year contract. Baby talked it over with his wife, Mandy, and they thought this sounded fine, and so he did it. Baby signed, or rather, being illiterate, made his mark on the contract. Now, it wasn't long after he signed that Baby and his fellow sharecroppers noticed a new, elongated building under construction on the plantation. It has a massive chimney on one end and rows of doubled-up stalls lining the two longer walls. This thing looks like some kind of stretched-out shanty house. Baby and his fellow sharecroppers find it odd and wonder what purpose it will serve.

Okay, that's sufficient background. You're up to speed on life here. Let's get back to Baby's beautiful April day. Baby and the other sharecroppers are soon distracted from their work by an unusual sight. Three big, horse-drawn wagons approach the plantation. The wagons are transporting armed guards and 40 large, shackled, able-bodied black men. Baby and his friends look on in complete shock as the guards take these men bound in irons from the wagons, then escort them to the elongated shanty, or stockade as it's now called. Okay, time out. I'm guessing you might be as horrified as baby

and thinking, how can this be after the end of slavery? Here's the thing. The 13th Amendment reads, quote, neither slavery nor involuntary servitude except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted shall exist within the United States. That key word, except, is what New South Plantation owners like the senator are taking advantage of.

This is, as Baby tells us, The beginning of the senator's convict camp. The senator is leasing these prisoners and the guards to oversee them from the state of Georgia at a cost of $200 per convict per year. Now, all prisoners can be leased out. Baby reports hearing about poor white folks held in bondage and convict leases exist up north as well. A significant difference, however, is that Black people are often arrested and convicted specifically to be leased out as forced laborers. Across the New South, vagrancy laws make it illegal to be unemployed. Many Black Southerners between jobs are thus arrested, then quote-unquote

leased out. Baby will later report that hundreds and hundreds of farmers all over the state of Georgia rely at least partly on convicted laborers. But that's ahead. Right now, Baby, Mandy, and the other contract laborers just want to leave this plantation that, with armed guards and chained black laborers, is stirring up haunting memories. They ask the senator to release them from their contracts. His answer is no. They signed on for 10 years. And further, those contracts contain clauses allowing him to hunt them down if they run and throw them in the stockade with the convicts. Being illiterate, none of them knew this when signing, and that news devastates them. Baby will later describe this moment.

We had sold ourselves into slavery. Now what could we do about it? The white folks had all the courts, all the guns, all the hounds, all the railroads, all the telegraph wires, all the newspapers, all the money, and nearly all the land. And we had only our ignorance,

our poverty, and our empty hands. We decided that the best thing to do was to shut our mouths, say nothing, and go back to work. And most of us worked side by side with those convicts during the remainder of the 10 years. Finally, the 10 years pass. Baby and many of the other laborers are eager to move on, even if, as is the case with Baby, they're overdrawn at the plantation's loan and overpriced commissary. It's a debt the senator reminds them of as they prepare to leave.

Boys, I'm sorry you're going to leave me. I hope you'll do well in your new places. So well that you'll be able to pay me the little balances which most of you owe me. He produces papers that each man needs to sign, acknowledging their debt before leaving. With no choice but to sign, Baby makes his mark, indicating a $165 debt. He, Mandy, and their nine-year-old son are now ready to set out for a better life. But that won't happen. That same night, the constable and his men arrest Baby and the other free laborers. Turns out they didn't just sign, or mark, rather, an acknowledgement of debt. They marked an agreement to do hard labor on the plantation until the debt is fulfilled. Baby isn't returned to his cabin.

He and the other former sharecroppers are sent to the stockade with the convicts, where they'll sleep in their clothes without blankets, use dirty dishes, and are locked inside at night. Mandy and some of the other wives of the newly incarcerated workers are taken to the big house, where Baby tells us, quote, the white men about the camp used these unfortunate creatures as their mistresses,

close quote. Their son is sent to a black family in South Carolina. Though Baby had no choice but to mark the debt acknowledgement, he will never stop regretting it. Quote, we had made ourselves lifetime slaves, or peons, as the law called us. But call it slavery, peonage, or whatnot, the truth is we lived in a hell on earth what time we spent in the senator's peon camp. Close quote. He won't spend his life here, though. To Baby's surprise, the plantation releases him three years later. But not his wife, Mandy. One of the guards will continue to keep and impregnate her instead. As for their young son, I can't tell you. Baby will never see nor hear from him again.

I want to tell you that Baby's experience is unique. An outlier. But I can't. In various forms, sharecropping and peonage will continue to trap Black Southerners into positions of forced labor well into the 20th century. And if there is any question as to whether or not these workers can rise up, protest, or strike, well, that will soon be answered with blood in Thibodeau, Louisiana. Was the Sphinx 10,000 years old?

Were there serial killers in ancient Greece and Rome? What were the lives of transgender, intersex, and non-binary people like in the ancient world? We're Jen. And Jenny. From Ancient History Fangirl. We tell you true stories and tall tales of the ancient world. Sometimes we do it tipsy. Sometimes we have amazing guests on our show. Historians like Barry Strauss, podcasters like Liv Albert, Mike Duncan,

and authors like Joanne Harris and Ben Aronovich. We take you to the top of Hadrian's Wall to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world. We walk the catacombs beneath the Temple of the Feathered Serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca Lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world. Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. 1977. From Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant and William Tecumseh Sherman. To Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. The Civil War and Reconstruction was a pivotal era in American history. I'm Rich. And I'm Tracy. And we're the hosts of a podcast that takes a deep dive into that era when a war was fought to save the Union and to

free the slaves. And when the work to rebuild the nation after that war was over turned into a struggle to guarantee liberty and justice for all Americans. Look for The Civil War and Reconstruction wherever you find your podcasts. It's just before dawn, Wednesday, November 23rd, 1887. Five armed white men are gathered at the end of St. Charles Street on the outskirts of Thibodeau, Louisiana. Most of them have been here for hours, stationed at this picket for the 12 to 6 a.m. watch. They are but one of many such patrols dotting Thibodeau.

The town is locked down under martial law, and it's their job to check the papers of any black person coming and going. The men sit here discussing everything that has led up to this moment, when suddenly, the silence of the just-starting-to-dawn morning is broken by the crack of a rifle. The bullet strikes John Gorman in the head, near an eye. He drops and rolls into a

nearby ditch, but he's alive. One of the other guards rushes to John, helps him up, and starts to accompany him back home. As this happens, Henry Molison decides to go with John too. He's just setting out when another shot rings out. Struck in the leg, Henry drops to the ground. Having heard these shots, every armed man in town is now rushing to the scene where they find Henry writhing in pain. More shots are fired. By now, the large throng can tell where it's coming from.

The cornfield. The growing group of men now exchanges fire with an unseen force out in the field as the cry spreads throughout town. To arms! To arms! The Negroes are killing the whites! Okay, let's get some background. Remember how I said Baby's situation on that Georgian cotton plantation wasn't particularly unique? Well, that tracks as we look at the lives of Black Americans working down here on Louisiana's sugar plantations. They often live in old slave cabins and work 12-hour days at a daily rate of 42 cents. Nor are these workers paid in cash. Like Baby, these sugar plantation

laborers receive script that can only be used at the high-priced plantation stores for basic goods. And if, like Baby, they find themselves in debt to the store, they'll have to work that off. Given this reality, post-reconstruction sugar plantations have taken a page out of the Book of Northern Industrial Laborers and tried striking for increased wages and better working conditions. They've always failed, but earlier this year, 1887, these black Louisianans made a big move.

They hooked up with the Knights of Labor. In October, this national labor movement went to the powerful Louisiana Sugar Producers Association, or LSPA, with three demands for sugar plantation laborers. One, bi-weekly payments. Two, said payment shall be made in cash, not script. And three, an increase in wages to $1.25 per day. The LSPA gave a firm no. Fine, the Knights of Labor called on all sugar plantations throughout the parishes of Louisiana to strike.

And starting on November 1st, some 10,000 predominantly black laborers did just that. Sugar plantation owners freaked out. Terrified at the thought of losing their crops, they called on Democratic Governor Samuel McEnery to send out militias to put down the strike. He gladly obliged, and as these militias went to it, many black sugar plantation workers began to gather in and around Thibodeau. As they did so, more militia descended on the town to either prevent, or, depending on your perspective,

encourage more violence. Then yesterday, amid a few fights and even fatalities, the former Confederate and current White League member now serving as district judge, Taylor Beattie, declared martial law. Ah, that's how we ended up with militias guarding the town and checking the papers of all Black residents coming and going. And of course, we know the names of two militiamen guarding the town, John Gorman and Henry Molison.

Both just got shot around sunrise this morning, November 23rd. Now let's see where things go from there. The shootout between the militiamen and black strikers in the field continues for roughly 20 minutes. Meanwhile, other militia and white residents head toward the edge of Thibodeau to the quote-unquote Negro settlement, as the area is called, where they shoot into churches and homes. They then round up all the weapons and ammunition

to be found in this black community before returning to town. Now here's where the accounts of this story differ. According to most white newspapers, six black people died immediately and another four to five succumbed to their mortal wounds later. The Opelousa's Courier further reports that many more, quote, are counted as missing, but whether they have been killed or skipped the country is not known, close quote. But that's not what the black and Republican newspaper, the Weekly pelican says. It asserts that these numerous quote-unquote missing black people were ruthlessly slaughtered. To quote it, from an eyewitness to the whole transaction, we learned that no less than 35

negroes were killed outright. Lame men and blind women shot. Children and hoary-headed grandsires ruthlessly swept down. The Negroes offered no resistance. They could not, as the killing was unexpected. Those of them not killed took to the woods, a majority of them finding refuge in the city. Close quote. And 35 dead might be a conservative estimate. Some future historians will speculate the death toll reached as high as 60.

We'll never know how many died that day, but this tragedy that would become known as the Thibodeaux Massacre will effectively end unions in the South for decades as the sugar workers return to the plantations. But in a larger sense, the Thibodeaux Massacre marks something more. As Mary Pug, a plantation owner's wife, writes, the results of the strike will, quote, settle the question of who is to rule, the ninja or the white man, for the next 50 years. Close quote.

In the North, strikes being broken asserts the power of capital over labor. Here, in the New South, it often means asserting white rule, known as Southern, quote-unquote redemption, over the freedmen. And that rule is being further cemented in the South with the advancement of Jim Crow laws. I'm sure many of you have heard of Jim Crow laws before this episode, but let's get a little deeper. The term comes from minstrel shows. Originating in the early 19th century, these theater acts consisted of jokes, songs, skits,

and speeches that used Black culture and plantation life as the perpetual punchline. These characters are exaggerated, slapstick stereotypes of various quote-unquote types of Black Americans. The old uncle, the mammy, and so forth. And actors portraying them are typically white men wearing black makeup, a practice known as blackface. One such minstrel actor, a New Yorker named Thomas D. Rice, developed a blackface stage persona in which he dressed in rags, affected a plantation dialect, and did an adaptation of a dance and song he once saw an aging, crippled black man do in 1828. His character quickly became something of a household name. Now what was that name? You guessed it. On stage, Tom called himself Jim Crow.

It didn't take long for Jim Crow to leap from the stage to public discourse. As early as 1838, a Massachusetts newspaper, the Salem Gazette, mentioned a Jim Crow train car for black riders. And it's worth noting, as Steve Luxemburg does in his history of Plessy v. Ferguson, titled Separate, that the article does so casually, thus assuming even in this early decade that its northern readers understand and know the term. I realize that might seem odd at first blush, but let's not forget that the North has seen racial segregation too. Indeed, in the mid-1850s, a black school teacher named Elizabeth Jennings sued the Third Avenue Rail Company for violently ejecting her from a New York streetcar.

The courageous teacher won. It was a huge step forward in New York's journey toward racial integration. And hey, kudos to her freshly admitted to the bar 24-year-old lawyer. He's a friend of ours from episode 91. Future U.S. President Chester Arthur. Okay, so from minstrel shows to segregation, we now know Jim Crow actually has some rather northern roots. But why haven't I been talking about the South? Well, the system of slavery actually could require a great deal of interaction between enslaver and enslaved. This means that, to some extent, codifying social practices and drawing stark legal lines didn't actually make sense in the South until after the slavery-ending 13th Amendment.

Now, Reconstruction held these floodgates back initially, but by the 1880s, Southern Democrats, those Redeemers, as they called themselves, have the power. They soon begin to pass Jim Crow laws at the state level. One of these laws, as we know from today's Open, is the Louisiana Separate Car Act of 1890, which requires railroads in the state to have separate cars for white and black passengers. Southern Democrats are thrilled, as evidenced by the Times Democrat newspaper reporting in favor of it. Quote, A young lady of this city had, two or three days ago, to travel

from New Orleans to Austin, Texas. The only sleeping accommodation on board that was to be had was the lower berth and a section of which the upper berth had been secured by a negress. The sitting accommodation was as much crowded as that for sleeping, and the young lady had to occupy a seat in the section in which she passed the night with the same negress. The instance which we have just narrated without comment goes to show that the date for the Louisiana Separate Car Act going into force will not arrive a day too soon. Close quote.

If I may provide one word of comment, damn. Well, civil rights loving Americans do not see what the Times Democrat sees. Black Americans challenged the Louisiana Separate Car Act, as well as similar acts across the New South. All the way up in Michigan, black clergymen and leaders rail against the Separate Car Act at a Civil Rights League meeting held on November 19th, 1891. Professor D. Augustus Straker proclaims to his black and white audience, we are supposed to be enjoying the same rights that are claimed by the whites, but that is not true in fact. In short, he and the other speakers contend that segregation isn't only immoral, it's unconstitutional, a violation of the 14th Amendment's guarantee of equal protection

of the laws. Sounds like they'd get along with Homer Plessy, the man whom we met in the cold open as he defied the Separate Car Act. But as Homer Plessy joins the ranks of a new generation of black leaders, like Ida B. Wells, W.E.B. Du Bois, and Booker T. Washington, we mourn the loss of one of the greatest leaders the nation's ever seen. It's a sunny morning, February 25th, 1895. An innumerable crowd is gathered around the Metropolitan African Methodist Episcopal Church on M Street in Washington, D.C. Shrouded in black,

the mournful congregation stretches from the chapel's east door over a block in each direction. They're all here to pay their final respects to the man whose remains lie in the plain wooden hearse now making its way to the steps of the church. I'm speaking of the sage of Anacostia, the Moses of his people, old man eloquent, Frederick Douglass. Frederick departed this world five days ago. It was unexpected. That February 20th morning, he and his wife Helen enjoyed a carriage ride through Washington, D.C. I'm sure they drew a few stares, but nothing this interracial couple couldn't handle. I mean, after a decade of enduring

disapproving family, cruel newspapers, and the disapproval of countless Americans, white and black alike, I doubt the loving husband and wife ever batted an eye. Frederick then attended a meeting of the National Council of Women, where he sat with his friend Susan B. Anthony. Around five that evening, he returned to his beautiful two-story mansion just outside DC in the village of Anacostia, a home he called Cedar Hill, where he could rest up before his scheduled speech that night.

But then, two hours later, he dropped to the ground in the front hallway. As this happened, Helen ran outside desperately screaming for someone to help. But it was to no avail. Fast as Dr. J. Stuart Harrison came, he found the 77-year-old freedom fighter already dead, likely from a heart attack.

The following day, the 21st, governing bodies ranging from the U.S. Senate to North Carolina's state legislature adjourned in honor of Frederick's passing. The votes to do so were far from unanimous, though, and upset many Southern Democrats. A North Carolina newspaper called the Messenger and Intelligencer captures well their disapproving sentiment. Quote, the resolution of adjournment in honor of the Negro who married a white wife and thus proved himself an enemy to both races and the peace of both is worse a thousand times. It must not only bring the blush of shame to every white man in the state but also disgust every Negro who has any pride or self-respect. We have reached the climax of infamy.

Will white men who have a spark of state pride or love of home go further with this revolution that has now reached its climax in endorsing miscegenation and its consequent horrors? Close quote. I told you, the press can be cruel to the Douglases. Yet, despite the newspaper's assertion, today thousands of self-respecting Black Americans, and though fewer in number, self-respecting white Americans, have shown up to honor Frederick. From the morning into the early afternoon, Americans of all colors, ages, and stations of life solemnly stream past the abolitionists' oak casket. Those settling into the pews for the service include old-school anti-slavery Republican Senators John Sherman and George Hoare, former black members of Congress Senator Blanche Bruce and Congressman John Lynch,

as well as Supreme Court Justice John Marshall Harlan. By the time the service starts at 2 p.m., the massive Gothic Church's lecture hall is completely packed to standing room only. This is the scene as Reverend Dr. J.T. Jennifer rises to offer a stirring eulogy. Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel? Death has ended the earthly care of the long and useful life of this great and good man. We cannot say that he has fallen, but in a greater sense, he has risen. By his death, his true merits and character will be revealed.

The hearts of the people will be cemented in closer bonds of sympathy for those for which he so ably labored. Douglas, the success, the student, the worker, the philanthropist, patriot, and leader was given us of God and God has taken him. Father, brother, leader, farewell. Be you assured that you will never cease to have the deepest sympathy and the profound respect of a grateful humanity for whom you gave your life and best efforts.

There probably isn't a dry eye in this church. For many here, some born enslaved, Frederick was their champion, their advocate, and now he's gone. Other speakers follow, including Howard University's white president, Reverend J.E. Rankin, as well as Frederick's dear friend, Susan B. Anthony. Approaching the pulpit toward the end of this three-hour service, she reads letters from others of Frederick's friends and admirers. These include another mover and shaker in the women's rights movement,

Elizabeth Cady Stanton. The letter recalls the power and majesty he projected, his ability to fight and capacity to forgive. She quotes Frederick as telling her once, quote, the many tender friendships that I have with the Saxon race on both sides of the ocean have taught me such sweet lessons of forgiveness that the painful memories of my early days are almost obliterated.

Close quote. Elizabeth sees in her departed friend all the attributes a nation struggling forward needs. Her note closes, Frederick Douglass is not dead. His grand character will long be an object lesson in our national history. His lofty sentiments of liberty, justice, and equality,

echoed on every platform over our broad land, must influence and inspire many coming generations. Close quote. The funeral comes to its end. 150 Black Grand Army of the Republic veterans escort Frederick's body out of the gargantuan church to board a northbound train. He'll be interred in Rochester, New York at Mount Hope Cemetery. What a life! Whether physically pummeling his enslaver as a teen, forging a friendship with seated U.S. President Abraham Lincoln, or finding love a second time after the passing of his first wife

in the arms of Helen, a white woman, we have borne witness over several episodes as Frederick obliterated barriers. And that's to say nothing of his fighting the heavy battles of abolition and women's rights. Truly, the nation has lost one of its finest. Rest in peace, Frederick. But as Frederick goes to his well-earned eternal slumber, what is happening to his lifelong work to end slavery and procure

full civil rights for all Americans, regardless of color? Slavery is indeed dead, but Jim Crow laws are taking root. Indeed, as Frederick lies in his grave, Southern legislatures are preparing to quote-unquote redeem the South by effectively disenfranchising Black voters. Napoleon Bonaparte rose from obscurity to become the most powerful and significant figure in modern history. Over 200 years after his death, people are still debating his legacy. He was a man of contradictions, a tyrant and a reformer, a liberator and an oppressor, a revolutionary and a reactionary. His biography reads like a novel, and his influence is almost beyond measure.

I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast, and every month I delve into the turbulent life and times of one of the greatest characters in history, and explore the world that shaped him in all its glory and tragedy. It's a story of great battles and campaigns, political intrigue, and massive social and economic change, but it's also a story about people, populated with remarkable characters. I hope you'll join me as I examine this fascinating era of history. Find The Age of Napoleon wherever you get your podcasts. Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for

you. I'm Sean Piles, and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds, personal finance experts in credit cards, banking, investing, and more. We answer your real-world money questions and break down the latest personal finance news. The nerds will give you the clarity you need by cutting through the clutter and misinformation in today's world of personal finance. We don't promote get-rich-quick schemes or hype unrealistic side hustles. Instead, we offer practical knowledge

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your real-world money questions and get insights that can help you make the smartest financial decisions for your life. Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. It's Tuesday, September 10th, 1895. 160 delegates are gathered inside the State House in Columbia, South Carolina. They're here because, shortly before leaving office, the one-eyed former governor, Ben Tillman, called for a state constitutional convention. Now, you might recall from episode 75 that we were there in 1868 when,

in the midst of Reconstruction, South Carolina created its current constitution. At that time, the majority black delegates and their still numerous white peers, a racial composition which reflects the Palmetto State's currently majority black population, guaranteed all political privileges to all classes of citizens without regard to color. This convention is meant to end that. Okay, big picture and a little background here. You might recall that in episode 76, I explained the Mississippi Plan. In brief, this is a two-step Mississippi originating plan by which Southern Democrats intend to reclaim, or again, as they say, redeem,

the South from Reconstruction. Step one, use violence and physical intimidation to scare white and black Republicans out of voting. But that won't do the trick, not fully. Some don't scare. And when you mix their votes with moderate Democrats, the South's quote-unquote redemption isn't guaranteed. That brings us to step two. Find a way around the 15th Amendment to disenfranchise predominantly Republican black men. This will ensure their supposed redemption. Hence, this convention. And to be clear, this isn't a subtle or hidden agenda. As South Carolina's preeminent historian living in this era,

David Duncan Wallace, will write only a year later, quote, The motive for calling the convention was, as we have seen, to effect such a revision of the suffrage laws as would make any appeal to the Negro or any chance of Negro domination an impossibility. The interest of South Carolinians centered on this. The object is, of course, to disenfranchise the ignorant Negro while retaining the illiterate white vote.

Close quote. Okay, we have the background and context needed. Let's continue with the convention. Mr. Robert Aldrich from Barnwell County, the temporary chair of the convention today, rises. He takes to the floor and opens the convention by repudiating the state's current Reconstruction Era Constitution. The Constitution of 1868 was the fruit of the Reconstruction Acts, which were notoriously unconstitutional. And if unconstitutional, they were invalid. That constitution was made by aliens, Negroes, and natives without character.

All the enemies of South Carolina and was designed to degrade our state, insult our people, and overthrow our civilization. It is a stain upon the reputation of South Carolina. Damn. To hear these redemptionist Southerners tell it, Reconstruction was nothing but a plot by aliens, that is Northerners, to destroy the entire Southern way of life. And now that the New South is in full motion,

it's time to take back their control, especially by limiting the voting rights of African Americans. But how can they get around the federal constitution's 15th amendment, which specifically prevents laws denying the right to vote on the basis of race? They've got a path for that. Literacy tests and poll taxes. As the convention continues, the collective decision is that this new state constitution will stipulate that South Carolina's voting men must either, and I quote, 1. Be able to read the constitution in English and sign his name, or 2. Shall own $300 worth of property that taxes are regularly paid. Well, as we have discussed before, Black Southerners are only a generation away from slavery and the Civil War, an era in which it was illegal for them to learn to read. Combine that

with Jim Crow laws since the end of Reconstruction, and most Black men in South Carolina don't have the literacy or wealth necessary to meet this new state constitution's demands in order to vote. Worse still, this state constitution will also make it a crime to vote without these conditions being met. This will further discourage Black South Carolinians, which, I remind you, are presently the majority of the state's population, from even trying to vote ever again. But what about poor, illiterate whites

who are also unable to overcome these strict requirements? There's a safety hatch built in there. The Constitution explicitly makes an exception for any man who, and I again quote, shall have been engaged in active military or naval service of the late Confederate States of America, or shall be the lawful lineal descendant of a person who was engaged in such service. Close quote. That's right.

All Confederate veterans and their sons and grandsons are guaranteed the vote. And even if that doesn't apply, those administering the literacy tests get to make the call as to who is literate or not. There are six Black delegates in the room. All of them are Republicans hailing from the Palmetto State's Low Country. The sparsity of their numbers speaks to the effectiveness of voter intimidation, yet their presence at all is a reminder of why this convention is happening. They're appalled at what's coming together. The writing's on the wall. They see it, but they won't go down without a fight.

At some point in the ensuing months of the convention, sources differ on the exact date, one of these six black delegates takes the floor. It's former U.S. Congressman Robert Smalls. You might remember him from episode 75 when, in the midst of the Civil War, he boldly impersonated a ship's captain and sailed to freedom out of Charleston's harbor. He then fought for the Union and went into government. Drawing a deep breath into his barrel chest, perhaps straightening his circular glasses, the salt-and-pepper goatee-wearing delegate begins a powerful speech. I was born and raised in South Carolina.

And today, I live on the very spot on which I was born and raised in South Carolina, and today I live on the very spot on which I was born. And I expect to remain here as long as the great God allows me to live, and I'll ask no one else to let me remain. I love the state as much as any member of this convention, because it is the garden spot of the South. Mr. President, this convention has been called for no other purpose than the disenfranchisement of the Negro. Be careful and bear in mind that the elections which are to take place early next month in very many of the states are watching the actions of this convention, especially on the suffrage question. We served our masters faithfully and willingly

and as we were made to do for 244 years. In the last war, you left them home. You went to the war, fought, and come back home, shattered to pieces, worn out, one-legged, and found your wife and family being properly cared for by the Negro you left behind. Why should you now seek to disenfranchise a race that has been so true to you? Since Reconstruction times, 53,000 Negroes have been killed in the South, and not more than three white men have been convicted

and hung for these crimes. I want you to be mindful of the fact that the good people of the North are watching this convention upon this subject. I hope you will make a constitution that will stand the test. I hope that we may be able to say when our work is done that we have made as good a constitution as the one we are doing away with. On behalf of the 600,000 Negroes in the state and the 132,000 Negro voters, all that I demand is that a fair and honest election law be passed. We care not what the qualifications imposed are.

All that we ask is that they be fair and honest and honorable. You have 102,000 white men over 21 years of age. 13,000 of these cannot read nor write. You dare not disenfranchise them. And you know that any man who proposes it will never be elected to another office in the state of South Carolina. 58,000 Negroes cannot read nor write. This leaves a majority of 14,000 white men who can read and write over the same class of Negroes in this state. To embody such a provision in the election law would be to mean that every white man would interpret it all right and every

Negro would interpret it wrong. One morning you may wake up and find that the bone and sinew of this country is gone. The Negro is needed in the cotton fields and the low country rice fields and if you impose too hard conditions upon the Negro in this state, there will be nothing else for him to do but to leave. Now, Mr. President, we should not talk one thing and mean another. We should not deceive ourselves.

Let us make a constitution that is fair, honest, and just. Let us make a constitution for all the people, one we will be proud of and our children will receive with delight. Robert has spoken plain and true. It will not matter. Over his and the other five Black delegates' protests, the Constitution passes the convention and becomes effective December 31, 1895. The eminent South Carolina historian of the day, David Duncan Wallace, will later tell

us that they refused to put it up for a popular vote, quote, for fear of a grand rally of Negroes to save their rights and suffrage, close quote. And while our eye has been on South Carolina, states across the New South are enacting similar measures. It seems then that the 14th and 15th Amendments are being effectively sidestepped. But perhaps the federal government can put a stop to these reversals. They'll soon have a chance. Homer Plessy's intentional violation of Louisiana's 1890 Jim Crow Separate Car Act has been appealed all the way to the United States Supreme Court. Let's refresh and round out our picture of Homer's case before we hear SCOTUS's verdict.

I'll remind you, the predominantly mixed-race, French-Creole-led Citizens Committee and their Ohio-born white lawyer, Albion Tourget, had a specific strategy in mind to fight Louisiana's 1890 Jim Crow Separate Car Act. Knowing that engaging the Democratic-dominated state legislature was as much a non-starter here as in other southern states, they planned to arrange for a light-skinned, upstanding citizen of mixed race to get arrested for breaking this law so it could be challenged in the courts. Their first volunteer for this act of civil disobedience was Daniel F. Desdunes. This was a partial success.

Louisiana District Court Justice John Howard Ferguson found the law unconstitutional, but that was because Daniel's train was bound for Mobile, Alabama. Louisiana therefore had no business regulating interstate trains. So the committee turned to another mixed-race citizen who could pass for white and had him purchase a first-class ticket on a train that wouldn't leave the state. Yes, this was Homer Plessy, and without interstate travel as a factor, Albion-Tourget argued the Separate Car Act had violated his client's 13th and 14th Amendment rights. Justice John Ferguson did not agree. Nor did the Louisiana Supreme Court.

And now, four years since Homer's arrest, the appeals process has gone all the way to the Supreme Court. On May 18, 1896, the Supreme Court hands down the majority opinion on Plessy v. Ferguson. In Justice Henry B. Brown's now infamous words, the decision reads, in part, Laws permitting and even requiring their separation in places where they are liable to be brought into contact do not necessarily imply the inferiority of either race to the other. We consider the underlying fallacy of the plaintiff's argument to consist in the assumption that the enforced separation of the two races stamps the colored race with the badge of inferiority.

If this be so, it is not by reason of anything found in the act, but solely because the colored race chooses to put that construction upon it. The argument necessarily assumes that if, as has been more than once the case and is not unlikely to be so again, the colored race should become the dominant power in the state legislature and should enact a law in precisely similar terms, it would thereby relegate the white race to an inferior position. We imagine that the white race to an inferior position. We imagine that the white race, at least, would not acquiesce in this assumption. The argument also assumes that social prejudices may be overcome by legislation and that equal

rights cannot be secured to the Negro except by an enforced commingling of the two races. We cannot accept this proposition. If the two races are to meet upon terms of social equality, it must be the result of natural affinities, a mutual appreciation of each other's merits, and a voluntary consent of individuals. Legislation is powerless to eradicate racial instincts or to abolish distinctions based upon physical differences, and the attempt to do so can only result in accentuating the difficulties of the present situation. If the civil and political rights

of both races be equal, one cannot be inferior to the other civilly or politically. If one race be inferior to the other socially, the Constitution of the United States cannot put them upon the same plane. Close quote. With these words, Justice Brown and six other justices have established how the 14th Amendment's Equal Protection Clause will be interpreted for more than half a century. Although it guarantees equal protection under the laws, the court finds that separate but equal is constitutional. Therefore, Louisiana's Jim Crow Car Act is constitutional. Seven court justices agree with this decision. Justice David Brewer did not participate in the case. There is but one dissenting voice, that of one of the few Southerners on the Supreme Court, a man from a wealthy, once slave-holding Kentucky family, Justice John Marshall Harlan.

In John's mind, his fellow justices have failed to ensure equality before the law. He writes, I deny that any legislative body or judicial tribunal may have regard to the race of citizens when the civil rights of those citizens are involved. Indeed, such legislation as that here in question is inconsistent not only with that equality of rights, which pertains to citizenship, national and state, but with the personal liberty enjoyed by everyone within the United States.

In view of the Constitution, in the eyes of the law, there is in this country no superior, dominant ruling class of citizens. There's no caste here. Our Constitution is colorblind and neither knows nor tolerates classes among citizens. In respect of civil rights, all citizens are equal before the law. The humblest is the peer of the most powerful. The law regards man as man, and takes no account of his surroundings or of his color when his civil rights as guaranteed by the supreme law of the land are involved. It's therefore to be regretted that this high tribunal,

the final expositor of the fundamental law of the land, has reached the conclusion that it is competent for a state to regulate the enjoyment by its citizens of their civil rights solely upon the basis of race. Separate is inherently unequal. Our Constitution is colorblind. Those same arguments and Justice John Marshall Harlan's dissent will resurface some 60 years from now when the Supreme Court hears Brown v. Board of Education. But that is a long way from today. For now, the Supreme Court's decision on Plessy v. Ferguson has effectively taken much of the bite out of the Civil Rights Amendments, that is, 13 through 15. And further, this decision from the highest court in the land

will embolden the New South's Democratic-dominated legislatures as they pass more Jim Crow laws. From the perspective of Southern Democrats, the New South is the redeemed South. From the perspective of Black Americans, well, I'll let scholar and historian W.E.B. Du Bois give his take. Quote, The slave went free,

stood a brief moment in the sun, then moved back again towards slavery. Close quote. On top of this, the ugliest in society are emboldened. Racial violence also increases, often in the form of lynchings. In the decades to come,

1930s jazz singer Billie Holiday will even sing about it. Her song, Strange Fruit, is a not-too-subtle euphemism. In the song, the fruit hanging from the trees are, quote, black bodies swinging in the southern breeze, close quote. And so, we close the Gilded Age on a somber note, a backward step for the Republic. If I can offer any solace, which I do not do lightly, it's that even as Frederick Douglass sleeps his eternal sleep, another generation of leaders, people like Ida B. Wells, W.E.B. Du Bois, and Booker T. Washington, is rising.

They and future generations will pick up the torch that seems to be slipping from Lady Liberty's fingers. So if I can offer solace, it's this, that those stories of hope, of an America pressing toward its promise of being a land where all men are created equal, while they may not have been today's stories, they are yet ahead. whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Thank you. Hello, dear listener, and welcome to Conflicted, a podcast that tells stories of the Islamic past and present to help you make sense of the world today. Hosted by me, Thomas Small, author and filmmaker, and my good friend, Eamon Dean, an ex-Al Qaeda jihadi turned MI6 spy. Conflicted is prepping its fifth season, which is coming to you very soon. And in the meantime, you can sign up to our Conflicted community. Subscribe to Conflicted wherever you get your podcasts.