The Era of Jim Crow

Tim McNeese

Description

For a hundred years after the end of the Civil War, a quarter of all Americans lived under a system of legalized segregation called Jim Crow. Together with its rigidly enforced canon of racial "etiquette," these rules governed nearly every aspect of life—and outlined draconian punishments for infractions. The purpose of Jim Crow was to keep African Americans subjugated at a level as close as possible to their former slave status. Exceeding even South Africa's notorious apartheid in the humiliation, degradation, and suffering it brought, Jim Crow left scars on the American psyche that are still felt today. The Era of Jim Crow examines and explains Jim Crow from its beginnings to its end: how it came into being, how it was lived, how it was justified, and how, at long last, it was overcome only a few short decades ago. 

Sujets

• 20th Century
• 19th Century
• Histoire
• América
• Jim Crow laws
• History of the United States
• Racism
• African American
• American
• United States
• History
• Jim Crow
• Law
• American History

Informations

• Publié par: Infobase Publishing
• Date de parution: 01 juillet 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781646938674
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

The Era of Jim Crow
Copyright © 2021 by Infobase
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher. For more information, contact:
Chelsea House An imprint of Infobase 132 West 31st Street New York NY 10001
ISBN 978-1-64693-867-4
You can find Chelsea House on the World Wide Web at http://www.infobase.com
Contents Chapters Introduction: A Ticket to Ride The South and Reconstruction Reconstruction Continues An Age of Denial The Rise of Jim Crow Jim Crow Legitimized A New Extremism New Leadership A Committed NAACP Brown Support Materials Chronology Further Reading Bibliography About the Author
Chapters
Introduction: A Ticket to Ride
The morning opened like any other summer’s day in the Crescent City. Soon, the mercury was hovering at a muggy 86 degrees under a cloudy sky. For all appearances, it was just another day in the thriving, southern cosmopolitan environs of New Orleans. Over at the city’s Press Street Railroad Depot, unsuspecting passengers, both Black and white, stood along the rail platform with a train to catch—one belonging to the East Louisiana Railroad. This particular station was usually busy; a bustling hub on the main line, the station was situated near a crowded world of railroad yards, just off of the local street, Faubourg Marigny. Those busy facilities include a coal yard and a scattering of freight sheds. The East Louisiana Railroad was one of two systems—the other was the New Orleans Northeastern—serviced by the Press Street Depot, which included a beehive of rail offices. The depot even offered its own restaurant. Not far off, the Mississippi River flowed by. As passengers waited for their train, they could not have helped but notice all along the boarding platform and close to the ticket office window, several posters explaining a recently passed state statute known as the Separate Car Act.
Spread out along the station’s wooden-planked raised platform, the expectant passengers held tickets for the railroad’s Queen and Crescent Line. This line ran north out of the station, across a swamp thick with hardwoods, and on toward northern Louisiana. On this day, the Number Eight Train was scheduled to cross a seven-mile-long bridge that spanned Lake Pontchartrain, with stops scheduled along a string of small towns, including Lewisburg, Mandeville, and Abita Springs. This particular line was as new as the Separate Car Act itself. The tracks had only been laid earlier in 1892. The line proved popular and today seemed destined no different than any other. It was one more day of railroad business, with passengers buying tickets for various destinations, southern men and women headed into northern Louisiana.
The schedule was one of daily repetition. On this particular cloudy Tuesday afternoon, the Number Eight was scheduled to steam into the station, stopping to take on whatever passengers were waiting, then roll out again at 4:15 headed for the Louisiana town of Covington, situated on the opposite shores of Lake Pontchartrain. This East Louisiana Railroad line was a short one, and Covington was the end of the line. It drew tourists through printed railroad advertisements extolling the lake community as “the healthiest spot in America.” 1 The train took its time along the route, taking two hours to span the 30 miles from New Orleans to Covington. It was a Louisiana railroad, matching its pace with that of the city itself—where no one was in a hurry; people took their time, with few people planning to go very far. Passengers anticipated their slow ride as just one more summer’s day with a specific destination in mind. Their train excursion would begin in Louisiana and end in Louisiana. The tracks of the East Louisiana Railroad only ran within the state’s borders.
Buying a Ticket
But this day, June 7, 1892, would prove to be anything but ordinary for those afternoon passengers on the Number Eight Train. Among their number was a young man in his late twenties; a lifelong native of Louisiana, whose actions that day would make the pages of American history. He was there as more than simply another rail passenger, a man preparing to board a train for reasons much more profound than everyone else that afternoon. He was a man on a mission, who came to the station that day under a set of specific instructions, directives that represented a virtually scripted plan. They were simple instructions. He had been sent to the Press Street Depot to purchase a train ticket for a first-class carriage of the Queen and Crescent Line. But as simple as these directions were, he and others were planning to accomplish more than any other person in the depot could even imagine. His instructions went further. Once he boarded the train’s first-class car, this unassuming Louisiana native was to make certain he was arrested, removed from the train and taken to jail where he would be booked. His only crime: being a Black man who attempted to ride in a whites-only railroad car.
No one would have recognized the young man standing on the depot platform as anyone different from his fellow white passengers. Homer Plessy was, in the simplest of terms, just one of the 20,000 passengers who bought tickets on the East Louisiana Railroad annually. But while others had bought their tickets as regular commuters or Covington tourists who purchased excursion tickets for one dollar to ride across the lake and enjoy the beaches and hotels near Lake Pontchartrain, Plessy had a greater cause in mind. He was neither commuter nor tourist. He was there to challenge the constitutionality of Louisiana’s Separate Car Act.
The act represented one of many such “Jim Crow” laws passed by the white-dominated Louisiana State Legislature. The Louisiana law appeared simplistic and straight-forward even as it expressed racial prejudice: “All railway companies carrying passengers in their coaches in this state shall provide equal but separate accommodations for the white, and colored races, by providing two or more passenger coaches for each train. No person or persons shall be permitted to occupy seats in coaches, other than the ones assigned to them, on account of the race they belong to.” 2 The statute had to be enforced to carry any weight, so railroad officials were required to provide that enforcement. The greatest responsibility was placed in the hands of hundreds of railroad conductors. If they did not carry out the law, they were subject to punishment. Anyone attempting to violate the law could be fined $25 or spend 20 days in jail. Homer Plessy intended to violate the statute that day and was willing to take the risks that came with such actions.

This photograph shows a New Orleans street scene during Homer Plessy’s lifetime.
Source: Getty Images.
The Separate Car Act and other similar Jim Crow laws were designed to discriminate against African Americans, treating them as inferiors. Although the Louisiana law was new, other similar laws were not. Separate car laws had been on the books for more than half a century. The first similar law had been passed in 1841, not in a Southern state where such laws were common by the 1890s, but in a Northern state—Massachusetts. Ironically, prior to the Civil War, Massachusetts had been an anti-slavery state, home to many abolitionists.
A Contrived Confrontation
Finally, the train arrived at the Press Street Station and the waiting passengers, including Homer Plessy, prepared to board. Plessy drew no one’s attention, for he appeared as little more than just another white passenger, a well-dressed man wearing a business suit and hat. Many would have assumed him a gentleman of some means. He had, after all, purchased a first-class ticket. But, in fact, Plessy was not what he appeared. He was a human Trojan horse. For although this young, dapper-looking, presumed gentleman of the South appeared to his fellow passengers as white, due to his lineage and Louisiana law—he was one-eighth Black—he was considered a Black man and, as such, should have been denied a first-class ticket.
As passengers began boarding the waiting train, Plessy took his next step in defiance of the Louisiana statute by lining up with the other passengers holding first-class tickets. He walked by the other rail cars, including the “second class” cars meant for African-American passengers, those clearly marked with signs stating for “Colored Only.” As the conductor ushered the first-class passengers to their seats, Plessy stepped onto the car’s platform and soon entered a scene of luxury denied those of his race. The car was elegant in design and accoutrements. It was clean, even immaculate. The interior featured rich mahogany paneling and rows of brass lamps lined the car’s walls. The seats were plush and comfortable, even adjustable. The first-class car featured toilet rooms at both ends, fitted with fancy fixtures and tiled mirrors.
But this was not the first time Homer Plessy had stepped into a rail car as fancy as the one he boarded that June afternoon. Despite his legal identity as a Black man, Plessy was so light skinned that he had passed for white for many years. He had, therefore, boarded such train cars previously. More than once, he had purchased a first-class ticket and taken a seat on a “Whites Only” rail car. No one had noticed him. No one had stopped him. No one was any more the wiser. On this day, the same was true. No one questioned him or tried to interfere with his taking a seat in first-class, a seat intended for someone of another race.
With the passengers all onboard, the train’s whistle split the air with a shriek, as the conductor closed the doors on the train’s cars. The great iron wheels began to move forward with the squeal of metal against metal. Those seated in the first-class car bega