History That Doesn't Suck - 75: Reconstruction (Part 3): The Rise of the KKK and the First Black Men in Government

Episode Date: October 12, 2020

“Boys, let us get up a club or society of some description.” This is the story of Reconstruction peaking and its opponents organizing to fight back. With Radical Republicans at the helm of Reconstruction, the former Confederate states are forced to make new state constitutions that include black men in the process. The outcome is nothing short of revolutionary. Black men not only come away with the vote but the ability to run for office! Black Americans like PBS Pinchback, Robert Smalls, and Robert Elliott are soon filling the highest offices in the land—even Congress. But this change is far too radical for some ex-Confederates. When six Tennessean men form a social club, it quickly takes a paramilitary turn. Its former rebel members realize that the only way to restore the antebellum world they long for is through violence and murder ... and they aren’t above resorting to such measures. ____ 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

Red One... We're coming at you. ...is the movie event of the holiday season. Santa Claus has been kidnapped? You're gonna help us find him. You can't trust this guy. He's on the list. Is that Naughty Lister? Naughty Lister?

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Let's save Christmas. There it is. Only in theaters November 15th. 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 terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. 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 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 the evening of May 12, 1862. A three-deck steamship with a massive smokestack and two powerful paddle wheels, called the CSS Planter, is tied up at Charleston, South Carolina's southern wharf.

It's been a long week. While she hasn't gone past the arc of U.S. Navy warships blockading the harbor, the planter has spent several days laboriously moving Confederate guns from one nearby island to another. And her 10-man crew is spent. Captain Charles J. Raylier and his two officers are looking forward to their warm beds in the city tonight. Now, what they're doing isn't by the book.

Confederate General Order No. 5 states that officers are to stay on their ships and be ready to sail at a moment's notice. But hey, these officers aren't worried. What are these exhausted enslaved sailors going to do? Use all the right steam whistle codes to sail the planter past Charleston Harbor's several Confederate forts, then signal the Union fleet that they're friendly? Even if they knew the codes, that'd be suicidal. Insane. Well, yes, actually. That's exactly what they plan to do. Under a full moon and fog, 23-year-old Robert Smalls tells the crew's visiting family his plan. He's going to impersonate the captain and sail them out of the harbor at

first light. The hope is that it will be light enough for the fort's defenders to see him and recognize the captain's straw hat and mannerisms, which Robert studied carefully for weeks, but too dark for them to realize that they're actually looking at the planter's enslaved black wheelman. With the exception of Robert's wife, Hannah, who knew of the plan already, the women and children are terrified. They cry. They scream. If this fails, they know this means death for the men

and God knows what for themselves. Two fearful crew members have already backed out, but Robert doesn't flinch. The goateed, oval-faced, stocky sailor stands firm until the families, including his four-year-old daughter and infant son, calm down enough to leave the ship. That's right, leave. There's a 9 p.m. curfew for slaves, so if they don't leave, the jig will be up. Robert and his remaining crew will pick them up and three other brave souls ready to risk their lives for freedom in a few hours.

Around 2 or 3 a.m., the black crew fires up the ship's boilers. It's loud. They fear discovery, but they're ready to feign annoyance and pretend it's the captain's orders if any of the guards become too inquisitive. But soon enough, it's time. The life-risking sailors raise two flags, the Confederate's stars and bars and the

state's white and blue banner, then head deeper into Charleston's waters to pick up the women, children, and three other friends at the North Atlantic wharf. With 16 freedom-seeking souls aboard, eight men, five women, and three children friends at the North Atlantic Wharf. With 16 freedom-seeking souls aboard, eight men, five women, and three children, the planter begins the perilous journey across five miles or more of Confederate waters. I'm sure they'd love to gun it, but they can't. To keep suspicions low,

Robert maintains a nice, slow pace. Everyone braces as they steam into range of Fort Johnson's guns. It could send them to their watery graves. Just as their fear of the fort's discovery subsides, a patrol boat comes into sight. Again, all's well. Okay, we're getting a bit farther out. More steam. Gunboats are making the rounds, but Robert keeps it cool, donning his commander's jacket and straw hat. The cool under pressure wheelman puts on an Academy Award winning act. He makes sure to pace the deck just as the captain usually does.

And even blasts a saluting whistle while hollering out morning salutations to the closest vessels. Then comes the greatest fear of all, Fort Sumter. Yes, the very place where the Civil War began just over a year ago. Since driving out the Union troops, the Confederacy has repaired the multi-level, star-shaped island citadel. If its sentries discover the planters' crew

are actually escaping slaves, they'll be shot out of the water for sure robert blasts out the fort's safe passage code two long whistles one short but it's about 4 15 in the morning at this point robert and his dark skin are only becoming more visible by the minute will the fort's guards really buy it? A guard eyes the planter. Blow the damned Yankees to hell or bring one of them in. The sentry finally yells out, Aye, aye.

Robert answers back without missing a beat. Damn, this guy is smooth. Robert maintains his course. It then dawns on the Confederate troops at Fort Sumter that the planter is not turning toward Morris Island. Something's wrong. The ship is steaming toward the Union blockade and won't respond. Rebs at Fort Sumter signal their counterparts at Fort Morris

as the Black Deckhands shovel everything they've got into the planter's boilers. It's too late. The planter is well beyond the reach of any Confederate guns or ships. Overcome with joy, Robert turns to his 15 fellow travelers, including his wife and children, rips off his straw hat and exclaims, We're all free n****s now!

Yet, one peril still lays ahead. The Union blockade means to disable or destroy any ships coming out of Charleston. The black sailors quickly lower the CSA and South Carolina flags and replace them with a white bed sheet. Will the Union ships of war notice it amid the morning fog and the planters' own thick black smoke, though? A three-masted Clipper, the USS Onward, sails toward them. Assuming the worst, Captain John Frederick Nichols gives the order to beat to quarters. But just as they're about to fire, John sees the bed sheet waving in the wind.

Soon, the ships are close enough for conversation. Ahoy there! What steamer is that? State your business! Someone calls out from the Onward. The Planter! Out of Charleston, come to join the Union fleet, Robert replies. Robert has done the impossible. He not only piloted himself and 15 other enslaved Black Americans to their freedom, but he gifted the U.S. Navy a steamship and the six cannons on board the CSS planter.

Scratch that, the USS planter, in the process. But Robert isn't done doing the impossible. He'll later return to his native South Carolina and become one of the United States' first black congressmen. This formerly enslaved, now self-emancipated ship pilot is the future five-term representative, Robert Smalls. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. History That Doesn't Suck Today, we build on the nuts and bolts of the Reconstruction era that we've covered in the last two episodes to get a more up-close and personal look at it through the eyes of America's first Black legislators.

We'll follow them as Radical Reconstruction enables these honorable gentlemen to take seats in state constitutional conventions, state legislatures, and of course, U.S. Congress. But it's no fairy tale either. We'll also hear the story of ex-Confederates so desperate to restore the pre-Civil War world order that they know and believe in, that they'll form one of the worst scourges in American history, the Ku Klux Klan. So, ready for the Klan and a radical Republican Congress with its first ever black members to face off over black civil rights? Good, here we go.

I'd say it's pretty much impossible to understand the rise of America's first Black legislators without understanding radical Reconstruction. We touched on it in Episode 73, a.k.a. Reconstruction Part 1, but here's a refresher in case anything slipped by you amid the excitement of President Andrew Johnson's impeachment. The year is 1867, and Andy's presidential reconstruction is a disaster. He's pardoning way too many high-ranking ex-rabs. He's not batting an eye as former Confederate states create laws known as Black Codes that limit the rights of Black citizens, sometimes

relegating them to a life no different from slavery. Nor is he doing anything about rising racial violence. And he's even giving the farm away. Literally. Despite the best efforts of Freedmen's Bureau Commissioner Oliver Howard, the Tennessee tailor is taking the promised 40 acres and a mule from black Americans and returning them to ex-rebel planters. By the way, quick side note, Oliver Howard will leave the Freedmen's Bureau to serve

as president of a new university that welcomes students regardless of color. It's named after him despite his protest, and today, you and I know it as the prestigious, historically black Howard University. At any rate, Congress Republicans have had enough with Andy's reconstruction. They are so mad, in fact, that the moderates are giving up on working with Andy and actually dealing with their radical colleagues. Starting in March, these united Republican legislators take us into a 10-year period

known as Radical Reconstruction. They do so with their two-thirds-majority veto-proof Reconstruction Acts in 1867. In short, these acts forced change on the unwilling 10 of the former 11 Confederate states. Yes, 10 of 11. Tennessee gets a pass because it's already ratified the Citizenship Guaranteeing 14th Amendment. This means that, from Texas to Virginia, all of America's coastal states plus Arkansas

just got grouped into five military districts of America's coastal states plus Arkansas just got grouped into five military districts of two to three states apiece. They'll be governed by generals who, congressional Republicans hope, can check the violence against Black Americans and white Republicans. Meanwhile, all men 21 years of age and older, white and Black, minus those former Confederates excluded by the not-yet-ratified 14th Amendment from holding office, are to vote on delegates for new state constitutions. Only after ratifying the 14th Amendment and these soon-to-be Black-including state constitutions will the formerly seceded states be able to get rid of military government

and have their seats in U.S. Congress filled. By the way, can we just pause and take these voting requirements in? These constitutional conventions must include all black men and exclude a sliver of the most ardent ex-rebs. Ah, that's how hundreds of black delegates get elected to these state conventions. Now, we don't have time to attend all of these conventions, alas, but we would be remiss if we didn't attend at least one, right? So sticking with our Palmetto State theme for the day, let's head back to South Carolina. It's January 14th, 1868, the first day

of the state constitutional convention in Charleston, South Carolina. Delegates have gathered at a three-story brick mansion just a few blocks from Charleston Harbor, near the corner of Meeting and Broad Street. They are quite unlike the group that prepared South Carolina's black code permissive constitution of 1865. Frankly, they're quite different from any political body ever elected in this state or pre-Reconstruction America. Not only did landless white men cast votes for these delegates, more than 90% of the Palmetto State's black men cast votes too. Given that new reality, it's no surprise that the black-majority state elected a black-majority convention. Yeah, you heard that right. Of the 124 delegates participating in this convention, 48 are white. 76 are black.

A number of white South Carolinians are not happy about this. Local newspapers mock the convention's racial makeup, derisively calling it things like the Congo Convention or the Crow Congress. Black attendees are mocked as well. The hero of this episode's open, ship pilot Robert Smalls, isn't seen as a hero by the Charleston Mercury newspaper. No, no, they call him the boat thief. Huh, well, that's a different Confederate way to look at it. Meanwhile, some mock African Methodist Episcopal minister,

Richard Cain, by calling him the, quote unquote, missing link. If you don't follow the racist jab, it's implying that he looks like an ape, or the evolutionary step between apes and humans. The insult has an unfortunately long history. Richard Cain won't be the last to hear it. But we'll stick to the nickname his friends and congregants use, Daddy or Daddy Cain. Negativity aside, words almost fail to articulate how remarkable this moment in South Carolina and American history truly is. Think about this. Most white Americans, particularly Southerners, have never seen black

Americans participate in public debate or give public speeches. Most black Americans have never even witnessed the inner workings of government, let alone participated in it. Many of the white South Carolinians struggle to even envision black Americans doing so. Similarly, many of the black South Carolinians at this convention, a great number of whom were enslaved only a few short years ago, feel the weight of this daunting task,

let alone completing it alongside whites. In a way, everyone is left wondering, will this really work? Oh, does it ever. Far from being a missing link, Richard Daddy Kane easily translates his church-honed oratory into a political eloquence that helps lead the New York Times to declare, quote, the colored men in the convention possess by long long odds, the largest share of mental caliber. Close quote.

Meanwhile, Robert Smalls pushes for and gets state-funded education for all children, black or white, to be included in the state constitution. And vindictiveness does not rear its ugly head. The predominantly black delegates and their white unionist colleagues do not take any shot at ex-Confederate civil or political rights beyond what the 14th Amendment will already enact. They want to ensure that all voices are heard in South Carolina's government and, get this, they won't turn their noses off at talented, repentant Rebs. To quote one delegate, Can we afford to lose from the councils of state our best men?

No, fellow citizens, no. We want only the best and ablest men. And then, with a strong poll, and a long poll, and a poll together, up goes South Carolina. Lasting for two months, the convention comes to a close on March 17, 1868. The final product is unlike anything the Palmetto State has ever seen. In a massive break from its history to this point, South Carolina's new constitution guarantees representative government and civil rights without a consideration for land ownership or color. Let me quote a bit from the document. In Article 1, Section 32, we read that no property qualification shall be necessary for an election to or the holding of any office. Jumping to Section 34, representation shall be appointed according to population, and no person

in this state shall be disenfranchised or deprived of the rights now enjoyed, except by the law of the land or the judgment of his peers. And finally, Section 39. Distinction on account of race or color, in any case whatever, shall be prohibited, and all classes of citizens shall enjoy equally all common public, legal, and political privileges. The document is noteworthy for plenty of other reasons. It opens with a declaration of rights. That's all Article 1 is. Maintaining that Republican government requires an educated electorate. It guarantees schooling. It allows women to divorce and protects their personal property from being treated as their husbands.

It gets rid of prison as a punishment for debt. Truly, it's a remarkable document for many reasons. But we'll keep our focus on today's topic. It's created the very real possibility of the election of black legislators. Now, bear in mind, I've only given you a look into one state. The Reconstruction Acts of 1867 are enabling similar changes

in other former Confederate states, but not all have such initially positive outcomes. In Georgia, for instance, newly elected black state legislators find themselves booted out of office in October 1868 when their white colleagues, Democratic and Republican, vote 83 to 23 to eject them because their new state constitution doesn't explicitly state black men can hold office. It takes the intervention of Georgia's military governor for them to regain their seats. We'll see other such challenges, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. For now, at least, radical reconstruction is enabling black men to vote and run for office

across several states. For some of the most ardent ex-Confederates, though, these changes are beyond intolerable. They'll do whatever it takes to stop it, even if that means resorting to violence and murder. And to tell this story properly, we need to go back two or three years. Rewind. is the podcast for you. I trace the epic battles between Muslims and the West. What are the Houthis' objectives in the Red Sea? It's a lesson to the rest of the Muslim world and the Arab world. Do not trust the Islamists.

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Six former Rebs are hanging out inside the small brick building that serves as Judge Thomas M. Jones' law office. The judge isn't present, but his son, Calvin, likes to come here at night with his friends. Those present with him include John C. Lester, James R. Crowe, John Kennedy, Richard Reed, and Frank McCord. I can't tell you the details of their conversation. I can, however, describe the scenario. They are all well-educated. They are likely concerned and fearful of what Reconstruction will mean for them. And amid the town's post-war slump, they're bored. Perhaps the last descriptor is the most important, because at some point in the conversation, one of them, assumed by some sources to be John Lester,

says something like, boys, let us get up a club or society of some description. They all agree. That sounds fun. They meet again a week later. Struggling to come up with a name for this society, one or two of them suggests they go with Kouklos, which is Greek for circle.

Hmm, has a ring to it, and they like the connection to the now defunct southern fraternity by a similar name. Then it changes. Someone suggests Kouklux has a better ring to it. Still another adds a bit more alliteration that will highlight their cohesion as a group. Clan. And so, the men have stumbled upon a name that, by their own admission,

has little meaning other than they like the sound of it. The Ku Klux Klan. Eventually, it will come to be abbreviated as the KKK or the Klan. According to its founders, the group's original intention is mere fun. Amusement was still the end view. KKK founding member John C. Lester will later write in describing the Klan's early history. Maybe that's true. It could help explain the KKK's disguises. According to Susan Lawrence Davis's history,

which I will note is sympathetic to, if not downright apologist for the Klan, James R. Crowe suggested to make it more mysterious that a costume be adopted. They then made a raid upon Mrs. Martin's linen closet and robed themselves with boyish glee in her stiff linen sheets and pillowcases, with boyish glee in her stiff linen sheets and pillowcases, as masquerading was a popular form of entertainment in those days. Close quote. Frankly, the names of their offices don't reflect a serious organization either. They start with Grand Cyclops, Grand Magi, Grand Turk, Grand Scribe, Lictors,

and Nighthawks. But whether the Klan begins as an innocent social club or not is really a moot point. By 1867, the former Confederate soldiers filling its secretive ranks have already turned it into a military organization. They even elect former Confederate Cavalry General Nathan Bedford Forrest as their national leader under the title of Grand Dragon. Meanwhile, initiants swear their allegiance to, quote, a white man's government, close quote. Thus, within a blip of time, the KKK transformed or otherwise revealed itself

as a vehicle for racial violence and murder as it rapidly spread across Tennessee and beyond. The Klan is, as historian Eric Foner will later write, quote, a military force serving the interests of the Democratic Party, the planter class, and all those who desired the restoration of white supremacy." Close quote. To that end, the Klan has several targets. These include blacks who have risen too high in society for the KKK's comfort. Take, for instance, the illiterate ex-slave and barber turned Georgia state legislator, Abram Colby.

On October 29, 1869, Klan's men break down Abram Colby. On October 29th, 1869, Klansmen break down Abram's door, drag him into the woods, and whip him. After three hours, they finally stop. Do you think you will ever vote another damned radical ticket?

One of them asks. If there was an election tomorrow, I would vote the radical ticket. Abram defiantly responds. Of course, one doesn't have to hold office to be attacked. As you might have noted in Abram's story, preventing blacks from voting Republican or radical is a goal in and of itself. White Republicans are also targets, which the Klan and its sympathizers divide them into two groups. Carpetbaggers, which is a pejorative term for northerners who've moved to the South,

and Scalawags, which is a pejorative term for born-and-bred southerners who vote Republican. Women are also targets. This is especially true of white prostitutes who accept black clients, or black women involved with white men. Either of these scenarios have potential for mixed-race children that the Klan, aka the Invisible Empire of the South, would rather not see come into existence. Now, despite its spread across the South, the Klan remains a rather local operation. By that, I mean, you don't have Klansmen traveling the country. They operate locally.

This means that, whether a Klansman is a plantation owner who no longer may enslave blacks, or a poor white farmer who fears increased human competition, he's assaulting or killing his neighbors. In short, Klansmen know their victims, and despite the hooded disguises, the victims often recognize their attackers. Take, for instance, Maria Carter. One night, the 20-something mother, living in Atlanta, Georgia,

hears the Klan ride up to the Walthall's house next door. Cradling her infant in her arms, Maria listens in terror as the Klansmen force their way into the home. Mrs. Walthall screams. The Klansmen threaten us. God damn it, kill her! But they don't. Instead, they force Mr. and Mrs. Walthall to embrace

so they can use one whip to flog them at the same time. Three Klansmen eventually come to her home, beat her husband and older uncle right before her eyes, then thrust a gun in her face. Maria is spared, but she'll describe her husband's shoulder as being like jelly, and the Walthams' home as, quote, looking like somebody had been killing hogs there, close quote. Despite their hoods, Maria knows who at least two of the three Klansmen

in her home were, Mr. Mutch and Mr. Hooker, both of whom are respected and well-off members of the community. By the way, Abram Colby said the same thing. His attackers included a lawyer and a doctor. I've given two examples of well-recorded Ku Klux Klan violence, but to be perfectly clear, Klansmen don't stop at flaying skin. The Klan kills. Between 1868 and 1871, Florida's Secretary of State, Jonathan Gibbs, reports the KKK murdered or is suspected of murdering 153 people in Jackson County alone. And by the time we get to 1887, then-outgoing Congressman Robert Smalls will estimate that the Klan has murdered over 50,000 Black Americans nationwide in the past two decades. But as the invisible empire of the Ku Klux Klan grows,

Congress will push back hard. Undoubtedly to the Klan's chagrin, it'll do so with its first black congressman. I'm excited to introduce you to some of them. So let's hop on one of the many trains now running to Washington, D.C. and make our way to the U.S. Capitol. All aboard! It's February 27th, 1869 in Washington, D.C. The hall of the U.S. House of Representatives chamber is packed with reps

who are about to witness history. A black man will address Congress for the first time. Let me give you some background. Last October, Republican John Willis Menard and Democrat Caleb Hunt ran in a special election to fill a House seat from New Orleans, Louisiana. John Willis, a black man, won hands down with about 65% of the vote. Caleb, a white man, contested the results. Since both men claimed the right to the seat, the House Committee on Elections had to weigh in. They couldn't reach a decision

and punted the issue to the full House of Representatives. Now, on this chilly, damp day, members of the House are ready to hear arguments from both John and Caleb as to why they deserve the contested seat. But Caleb no-shows, so John alone will make his case. The dignified man with dark, wavy hair

and a thick mustache stands behind a desk at the Republican side of the hall and states, I would feel myself recreant to do the duty imposed upon me if I did not defend their rights in this floor. I do not expect nor do I ask that there shall be any favor shown me on account

of my race or former condition of that race. The black orator reminds the reps that he won 65% of the votes in his district and has earned the right to take his place in Congress. But John has voted down. In fact, so has Caleb. The House cannot agree that either man has earned the seat, so it stays vacant. John's bid to join Congress as its first Black member fails. But another candidate is right on his heels. In January 1870, Hiram Rhodes Revels arrives in Washington, D.C. to take the Senate seat he just won Since Hiram will go down in history as the first black member of Congress, you deserve to hear his whole story Hiram hails from Mississippi, which just barely submitted its new state constitution for approval at the federal level Black Republican Mississippi legislators want a black man to fill one of their available U.S. Senate seats. So, as Hiram explains,

they vote him in hoping this move would, quote, be a weakening blow against color line prejudice, close quote. White Democrats in the Mississippi legislature go along with this plan, hoping that Hiram will make a fool of himself and But that's not going to happen. Hiram, a tall 40-something man with a commanding presence, was born to a free black Baptist preacher and his white wife in North Carolina. He attended one of only two schools for black kids in North Carolina, and he recalls, together with the other colored youths, I was fully and successfully instructed by our able and accomplished teachers in all branches of learning.

A few years later, Hiram moved north to attend a seminary and become a preacher. Hiram has been working as a barber, a minister, and a school principal since 1845. And during the war, he was a chaplain for a regiment of black soldiers. With all of this experience and education, Hiram is going to fit right in the U.S. Senate. Although he will look a little different than the last senator from Mississippi, Jefferson Davis, former president of the CSA. And there are plenty of people in the Senate who would rather have someone of Jeff's skin color occupying one of their seats. These guys are going to put up a serious fight when it comes time to

swear in Hiram. The senator from Delaware, Willard Salisbury, opens the debate by arguing that the Civil Rights Act of 1866 made Hiram a U.S. citizen. But since that was only four years ago, Hiram hasn't met the requirement for all senators that they have to be a citizen for nine years. Willard then goes off on a tirade against Reconstruction and the 14th and 15th Amendments, which comes off as mean-spirited instead of well-reasoned. One newspaper reporter even points out that, when Texans were granted immediate citizenship in 1845, there was no issue with their senators and representatives taking seats in Congress. So, what the hell, Willard? Senator Charles Sumner, his thick, wavy locks made of gray by the last decade of political strife,

enters the debate with a forceful speech. He argues that the Senate must vote to seat Hiram. All men are created equal, says the Great Declaration, and now a great act attests this verity. Today, we make the Declaration a reality. The Declaration was only half established by independence. The great duty remained behind in assuring the equal rights of all. We complete the work. Senators vote to seat Hiram by a wide margin, and the first Black U.S. Senator takes his oath of office. Once Hiram is seated in the Senate, two more Black men join him in

Congress. Jefferson Franklin Long and Joseph Rainey both take seats in the House of Representatives in 1870. And across the next 17 years, an additional 14 Black men will earn places in Congress. Add to that the dozens of black men serving in state government positions, and you can see that these men are making their mark on American politics. The black Americans who serve in Congress during Reconstruction have a few things in common. Most of them were free before the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863, and many had a white parent or grandparent. This usually meant they had some access to education, like Hiram Revels.

Some of them had served in the military, but most were either professionals or skilled tradesmen. In fact, historian Philip Dre states, quote, As black men who competed successfully to attain elective office in a society dominated by whites, they tended to be exceptional individuals. Close quote. Let's meet a few more of these exceptional individuals. I'll give you more

background on a handful of these pioneering congressmen before I tell you about some of their successes and setbacks in D.C. When Johann Rall received the letter on Christmas Day 1776, he put it away to read later. Maybe he thought it was a season's greeting and wanted to save it for the fireside. But what it actually was, was a warning, delivered to the Hessian colonel, letting him know that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware and would soon attack his forces. The next day, when Rall lost the Battle of Trent and died from two Colonial Boxing Day musket balls, the letter was found, unopened in his vest pocket. As someone with 15,000 unread emails in his inbox, I feel like there's a lesson there.

Oh well, this is The Constant, a history of getting things wrong. I'm Mark Kreisler. Every episode, we look at the bad ideas, mistakes, and accidents that misshaped our world. Find us at constantpodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts. 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. It's time to bond with Richard Cain.

We met him briefly at the South Carolina Constitutional Convention, but let me give you a few more details. Daddy Cain was born in Virginia, but grew up in Indiana with his black father and Cherokee mother. He went to Wilberforce University in Ohio and became an African Methodist Episcopal, or AME, minister. Daddy's short stature didn't take away from his charismatic, forceful speaking style. In fact, he was so good at his job that, after the Civil War, AME leadership asked Daddy Kane to leave his post in Brooklyn and reopen Emanuel Church in Charleston, South Carolina.

This was a huge assignment. Here's the thing. Free black Denmark Vesey established the Emanuel AME Church in 1818 and gained a large following. But in 1822, local government leaders suspected Denmark of using this church to plan a large slave rebellion. They tried and executed Denmark before anything could come of the plot. Then they closed the church. And it's been closed ever since.

But now, in 1870, the newly reopened Emanuel Church has a huge congregation of regulars, with the beloved Daddy Kane at its helm. The popular, mutton-chopped minister also has a newspaper called The Missionary Record. Daddy regularly writes his political opinions in his paper, though he doesn't affiliate himself strongly with either the Republicans or the Democrats. Some white newspapers make fun of Daddy Kane, saying he takes, quote, a position of betwixtity, close quote. But the minister shrugs off these barbs and stays focused on helping freedmen in South Carolina get access to farmland. Daddy Kane writes, The possession of lands and homestead is one of the best means by which a people is made industrious,

honest, and advantageous to the state. As long as people are working on shares and contracts and at the end of the year are in debt, so long will they and the country suffer. This passion for the rights and freedoms of black Americans will spur Daddy Kane to run for Congress in 1872. It will also prompt Daddy's business partner, Robert Brown Elliott, to throw his hat in the ring. Robert has led a very different life than most Americans, black or white.

Robert tells people that he was born in Boston, but grew up in England and studied law at Eton. Then he returned to the U.S. in 1861 and joined the Union Navy. But modern historians can't find any evidence to back up even part of the story. Robert's biographer claims that the square-shouldered, very dark-skinned man probably grew up in England with his West Indian parents. He was educated there before joining the British Navy. Robert may have then arrived in the U.S. in 1867 and threw in with the Republican Party in South Carolina. If this is true, did Robert make up the first story to gain access

to American government positions? We'll probably never know. But we do know a lot about the ambitious, charismatic man from 1867 on. His fellow politicians and law colleagues quickly note that Robert is smart. Like photographic memory, remember every name of every person he's ever met, speak several languages, smart. Robert's law partner reports, he knew the political condition of every nook and corner throughout the state. Elliott knew every important person in every county, town, or village and the history of the entire state as it related to politics. Robert Elliott also has an engaging, witty speaking

style. He uses that to fight for land ownership and civil rights for black Americans in and out of Congress. Now that we've met Daddy Kane and Robert Elliott, let me tell you about one more South Carolinian. Joseph Rainey. Unlike the men I've told you about so far, Joseph was born a slave on a rice plantation in coastal South Carolina. But his dad worked as a barber and saved up his earnings to buy his family's freedom in the 1840s. Joseph learned the barber trade from his dad and worked until the Civil War broke out.

At that point, the tall, sideburn-wearing man was conscripted into the Confederate Army and worked as a cook on a blockade runner. But Joseph wasn't about to get killed in action wearing a gray uniform. So he and his wife, Susan, escaped the war-torn U.S. and hung out in Bermuda for a few years. Joseph and Susan made a good living in Bermuda and returned to the U.S. in 1866, fairly wealthy. Joseph keeps working, but also has enough free time to enter politics.

In 1870, he gets elected to the House of Representatives and becomes the first black man to hold office in that governing body. Joseph has known slavery and freedom, poverty and wealth, war and peace. He uses that life experience to fight for his constituents. In one of his many speeches, Joseph argues, I tell you that the Negro will never rest until he gets his rights. We ask for civil rights because we know it is proper, not because we want to deprive any other class of the rights and immunities they enjoy, but because they are granted to us by the law of the land.

Damn, Joseph. That is an airtight argument. And that brings me to the last congressman I'm going to highlight today, Blanche K. Bruce. Blanche has a complicated childhood. Like many slaves, his mother was the slave of his father. Blanche grew up as the slave of his half-brother, but that gave him a chance to sit in on private tutoring lessons. The tall, broad-shouldered teenager soaked up every piece of information he could. During the Civil War, Blanche found a way to escape to Kansas. He became a schoolteacher in Lawrence. But since that didn't offer quite enough danger for Blanche, he moved to St. Louis, Missouri,

and set up the first school for black children in that state. I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing that Blanche's bouncer-like build gave him the confidence and ability to fight off any Confederate sympathizers who might have wanted to shut down his school. Anyway, after the war, Blanche moved again to Mississippi and got involved in politics. By the 1870s, Blanche is the Bolivar County Superintendent of Education. His schools are the best in the state. Yes, they are segregated, but every school is so well-funded and well-run that blacks and whites support Blanche's system. On the side, Blanche invests in land. He amasses a large farm and starts looking into national politics. In 1874, Blanche will become the first black man

elected to a full term in the U.S. Senate. That is a lot of talent and ambition in one group. But most of these guys don't actually serve at the same time. The two black senators, Hiram and Blanche, aren't senators in the same Congress. That means black members of Congress have few, if any, compatriots and get exposed to an extra dose of public scrutiny. And black congressmen face discrimination inside and outside the Capitol building. Joseph Rainey confronts this by asking his fellow congressmen face discrimination inside and outside the Capitol building. Joseph Rainey confronts this by asking his fellow congressmen, Why is it that colored members of Congress cannot enjoy the same immunities that are accorded to white members? We are here enacting laws for the country and casting votes upon important questions.

We have been sent here by the suffrages of the people. That's a damn good question, Joseph. But the talented congressman from South Carolina doesn't let discrimination distract him from the work at hand. Hiram, Daddy Kane, Robert, Joseph, Blanche, and their fellow black congressmen use every ounce of their education and experience to get things done for their constituents. Black congressmen know better than just about anyone

the urgent need to protect Black voting rights from KKK violence in the South and more subtle tactics in the North. Soon after accepting Black men into their midst, white Republican members of Congress also want to deal with this issue. In May 1870, Congress passes the Enforcement Act. This act makes it a federal crime to prevent any U.S. citizen from voting in any election. A few months

later, it has a second Enforcement Act, which strengthens federal power to oversee elections in large cities in the North and South. These two acts combined are designed to enforce the 14th Amendment and the Civil Rights Act of 1866. The feds now have the authority to appoint election supervisors and bring federal charges against anyone for election fraud, intimidation of voters, or conspiracy to prevent U.S. citizens from voting. Whew. Congress is not messing around. But within a year, it's obvious that the Enforcement Acts need a little more teeth. Even blue-eyed President Ulysses Grant knows it. He leans on Republicans in Congress to draft the

Third Enforcement Act, aka the Ku Klux Klan Act of 1871. The act gives Ulysses the right to send federal troops to enforce the law and fight off anyone who might conspire to deny anyone else equal protection under the law. Okay, let's just pause for a second. The provisions in these enforcement acts are a huge deal. Crimes of individuals used to be handled entirely by a state government. Now there are some crimes which fall under federal purview. And this makes a lot of people really nervous. One Democratic senator from California warns, quote, The radical laws to enforce the 15th or 14th Amendment are unconstitutional clearly so far as they deal with individuals

and not with states. This is the rock which is to wreck these scoundrel bills. Close quote. But Republicans argue that federal government has the responsibility to protect its citizens. Our old friend and Civil War hero, Ben Butler, asks, If the federal government cannot pass laws to protect the rights, liberty, and lives

of citizens of the United States in the states, why were guarantees of those fundamental rights put in the Constitution at all? Joseph Rainey, who unlike most of his fellow congressmen, knows what it's like to be denied suffrage, weighs in on the issue. I desire that so broad and liberal a construction be placed upon its provisions, as will ensure protection to the humblest citizen. Tell me nothing of a constitution which fails to shelter beneath its rightful power the people of a country.

Many people agree with Joseph's arguments and the bill gets put into action. The efforts of federal officials effectively curb KKK violence in most areas of the South for a few years. All right, that's tallying the win column. But black congressmen encounter failures and frustrations too. One of the most painful occurs when the freedmen's savings and trust company fails. Let me give you some background info on this banking institution. In 1865, President Lincoln officially endorsed a bank for freedmen and black

war vets. With that endorsement, thousands of freedmen and black veterans opened accounts and, soon, the bank had 33 branches. Even Blanche Bruce acknowledges the success of the bank. The need for such an institution was real. It not only supplied a great convenience to those for whose benefit it was ostensibly established, but it stimulated in them a spirit of thrift, frugality, and foresight. Close quote. Many of the 100,000 or so account holders believe the bank was run and guaranteed by the federal government, but that's not the case. By the 1870s, most of the original bank backers had moved on to other jobs,

and the bank's board of directors is actually a D.C.-based group of investors who use the bank's funds to promote their risky real estate deals. When the Panic of 1873 hits, which you heard about in the last episode, the Freedmen's Savings and Trust Company gets sucked up in the economic whirlwind. In early 1874, Frederick Douglass steps in and uses $10,000 of his own money to prop up the flagging bank, but it's no use. Depositors make runs on the bank

and get back whatever's left of their money. The once promising bank shuts its doors. It owes 61,114 depositors $2.9 million and has only 31,000 on hand. Tens of thousands of people lose their money. Senator Blanche Bruce and Representative Joseph Rainey argue before Congress that these depositors need recompense. This was their first experience with banking, their first experience with earning wages, spending wisely and saving the rest for a rainy day. Now those savings are gone through no fault of their own. But Congress only issues small payments of about $18 to less than half of the depositors. The rest never see a penny

of their hard-earned money. That's a hard pill to swallow, but black congressmen will see one more major success. In 1874, Congress debates a long-talked-about civil rights bill championed by Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner. The proposed legislation will outlaw racial segregation in public places. It will also make it illegal to discriminate against any person based on race in public schools, juries, and transportation, among other things. There are people who argue this bill smacks of federal overreach. On January 5th, Georgia Representative Alexander Stevens, yes, former CSA Vice President Alexander Stevens, takes the floor before his fellow representatives and packed gallery. Alexander

is confined to a wheelchair, and age and disease have reduced him to less than 100 pounds, but his ideas about racial inequality and the rightness of slavery have not diminished. Alexander declares, there is a vast difference between civil rights proper and some of the social rights claimed by this bill. The former CSA exec explains that in his home state, blacks and whites like staying separate. They have no desire for anything partaking of the character of social rights. If the people, colored or white, shall be left to themselves to work out their own destiny under the present system, without external interference of any sort, it will, in my judgment, be infinitely better for both races.

Many people in the gallery and on the floor applaud Alexander's speech and the House adjourns for the day. But Representative from South Carolina Robert Elliott, now in his second term in office, has answers to Alexander's claims. On January 6th, the dark-skinned man stands and with his powerful voice addresses the crowd. He reminds them that black Americans are entitled to equal protection under the laws. Robert starts talking about the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments. These amendments, one and all, have, as their all-pervading design and end,

the security to the recently enslaved race. Not only their nominal freedom, but their complete protection from those who had formerly exercised unlimited dominion over them. If a state denies to me rights which are common to all her other citizens, she violates this amendment. Robert's eloquent speech gets the attention of the whole room, even some Democrats who at first feigned indifference. The South Carolinian turns and directs his next remarks to Alexander. In this discussion, I cannot and I will not forget that the welfare and rights of my whole race in this country are involved. When, therefore, the honorable gentleman from Georgia lends his voice and influence to defeat this measure, I do not shrink from saying that it is not from him that the American House of Representatives should take lessons in matters touching human rights or the joint relations of

the state and national governments. While the honorable gentleman contended himself with harmless speculations in his study or in the columns of a newspaper, we might well smile at the impotence of his efforts to turn back the advancing tide of opinion and progress. But when he comes again upon this national arena and throws himself with all his power and influence across the path which leads to the full enfranchisement of my race, I meet him only as an adversary. Nor shall age or any other condition restrain me from saying that he now offers this government, which he has done his utmost to destroy, a very poor return for his magnanimous treatment, to come here and seek to continue

by the assertion of doctrines obnoxious to the true principles of our government, the burdens and oppressions which rest upon five millions of his countrymen who never failed to lift their earnest prayers for the success of this government when the gentleman was seeking to break up the union of these states

and to blot the American republic from the galaxy of nations. The crowd breaks into raucous applause at this statement. The Speaker of the House has to gavel several times to quiet the packed gallery. And Robert continues. The gentleman from Georgia has learned much since 1861, but he is still a laggard. Let him put away entirely the false and fatal theories which have so greatly marred an otherwise enviable record. Let him accept in its fullness and beneficence the great doctrine that American citizenship carries with it every civil and political right which manhood can confer. Let him lend his influence

with all his masterly ability to complete the proud structure of legislation which makes his nation worthy of the great declaration which heralded its birth. And he will have done that which will most nearly redeem his reputation in the eyes of the world and best vindicate the wisdom of that policy which has permitted him to regain his seat upon this floor. Again, Robert is interrupted by an audience which can't help but agreeing with him. After the applause dies down, Robert concludes his powerful oratory.

The passage of this bill will determine the civil status not only of the Negro, but of any other class of citizens who may feel themselves discriminated against. It will form the capstone of that temple of liberty begun on this continent under discouraging circumstances, carried on in spite of the sneers of monarchists and the cavils of pretended friends of freedom

until at last it stands in all its beautiful symmetry and proportions of building the grandest which the world has ever seen, realizing the most sanguine expectations and the highest hopes of those who, in the name of equal, impartial, and universal liberty, laid the foundation stones. After this speech, the Honorable Gentleman from South Carolina, Robert Elliott, has attained

superhero status in the House. Across the next few months, the other six Black congressmen also argue in favor of the Civil Rights Bill, detailing experiences of being denied services, meals, or even a place to sleep based solely on race. This legislation would put a stop to these injustices. Their efforts and arguments pay off. The supplementary Civil Rights Bill finally passes on March 1st, 1875. As long as the states comply with the requirements of this new legislation, reconstruction will be complete. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen. to help us keep going. And a special thanks to our members whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Jeff Coat, Ellen Stewart, Bernie Lowe, George Sherwood, Gerwith Griffin, Henry Brunges, Jake Gilbreth, James G. Bledsoe, Janie McCreary, Jeff Marks, Jennifer Moods, Jennifer Magnolia, Jeremy Wells, Jessica Poppock, Joe Dobis, John Frugal-Dougal, John Boovey, John Keller, John Oliveros, John Radlavich, John Schaefer, John Sheff, Jordan Corbett, Joshua Steiner, Justin M. Spriggs, Justin May, Kristen Pratt, Karen Bartholomew, Cassie Conecco, Kim R., Kyle Decker, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Thank you.