Reconstructing the Dreamland: the Tulsa Riot of 1921, Race, Reparations, and Reconciliation & A Covenant with Color: Race and Social Power in Brooklyn. (Book Reviews/Comptes Rendus).
Ferguson, Karen
Brophy, Alfred L. Reconstructing the Dreamland: The Tulsa Riot of
1921, Race, Reparations, and Reconciliation. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2002. Pp. Xx, 187. Illustrations, bibliographic essay, index.
$40.00 (cloth)
Wilder, Craig Steven. A Covenant with Color: Race and Social Power
in Brooklyn. New York: Columbia University Press, 2000. Tables,
bibliography, index. Pp. Xii, 325. US $35.00 (cloth).
Recent attention to the reemergent reparations movement for the
descendents of American slaves has brought debates about the historical
legacy of, and responsibility for, past oppression to the forefront of
popular discourse. Two compelling new books, one by historian Craig
Steven Wilder and the other by legal scholar Alfred L. Brophy, extend
the scope of this discussion by examining it in terms of the history of
American cities.
Wilder's A Covenant with Color surveys Brooklyn's history
from its fifteenth-century beginnings as a Dutch agricultural colony
founded on slave labour to the creation of America's largest urban
black ghetto in the decades following World War II. His sweep of more
than four centuries has one fundamental rationale. He wishes to
demonstrate once and for all that racism is not simply a product of the
unfortunate prejudices inevitable in human nature, nor is it ultimately
responsible for social inequality, as is so often claimed or believed;
rather racism is an ideology of power deeply imbedded in society's
material relationships used to create or perpetuate inequality. While
this is certainly not a new claim, Wilder's demonstration of its
validity throughout Brooklyn's history gives us a valuable
demonstration of racism's sustaining power as an instrument of
power, and particularly how it has been used in shaping cities. He shows
us that not much has changed since Brooklyn's Dutch chose to single
out Africans (as opposed to Native Americans, Jews, Quakers, or any
other reviled population) for superexploitation, not out of innate
prejudice but rather out of their ability to exercise mastery over the
already enslaved. Similarly, in a new insight on the history of the
unholy alliance of federal policy and private real estate interests and
the creation of the second ghetto in Brooklyn, Wilder shows how
redlining moved from targeting a broad swathe of Brooklyn's
non-WASP population to focusing on black neighborhoods, not because of
basic bigotry, but rather in order to cement the development goals of
powerful banking, insurance, and real estate interests in the city.
Thus, Wilder would argue, we should not simply examine the impact of the
legacy of slavery (or rather, "the legacy of mastery," as he
puts it in one of his many masterful reversals of liberal cliches about
African Americans and their condition), but rather focus on the
perpetuation of the "covenant with color" to the present.
Wilder's implicit secondary objective is to refute another
widely held shibboleth -- that of the North, and particularly the urban
North, being somehow unconnected to the worst abuses of the racial
system of the plantation and then Jim Crow South. Thus he shows us the
brutality of Brooklyn's supposedly "gentle" slave system
and the recalcitrance of King County's planters in relinquishing
control of their human property long after emancipation had legal force
in New York State. Hence he also reveals how Brooklyn's dependence
on the textile and sugar industries bred a pro-slavery majority in the
antebellum period. Finally, and insightfully, he shows how the northern
wing of the Democratic Party both before the Civil War and long into the
twentieth century attracted urban "white" ethnics not simply
through Tammany-style patronage but also, explicitly, through its
support of white supremacy throughout the nation.
While Wilder's work is based significantly on primary
research, its greatest value is as an extended essay bringing together
the insights of a broad body of recent scholarship in a fresh way to
build his case about continuities in the history of whites and their
"covenant with color," using Brooklyn as his case. However, in
his desire to cover so much ground, some of his evidence in the text and
the tables is underanalyzed leaving a few of his conclusions less than
self-evident. Furthermore, in his quest to explore continuities in the
relationship between race and power, Wilder gives little more than
thumbnail sketches of the changing contours of the black or white
communities through time, leaving readers with a number of tantalizing questions related to his thesis and to the history of Brooklyn. Given
the portrait of overwhelming pro-slavery support Wilder paints, why was
Brooklyn a national centre of white abolitionism and the refuge of
choice of Manhattan's black elite after the draft riots of 1860, as
he himself reveals? Were there no significant changes in the dynamics of
race and power as Brooklyn's black population fluctuated between
being a third of the total in the slavery era, to a miniscule minority
in the eighty years between the Civil and Second World Wars, to
one-third again by 1990? Most pressing, what was the African-American
response to the "covenant with color"? Readers catch
compelling glimpses at possible answers to this final question, but no
sustained view of the African-American community or its reactions.
Surely the powerless are in a very good position to say something about
the power held by their oppressors.
This very possibility lies at the centre of Alfred L. Brophy's
Reconstructing the Dreamland. In a detailed examination of the infamous
Tulsa riot of 1921, Brophy places the contrasting black and white
visions of the American legal system at the heart of his examination of
what happened and why. For African Americans, and especially for a vocal
and militant minority of veterans returned from World War I, the law was
about justice and about the ideals of democratic citizenship and
equality, which were so sorely lacking for black people in Jim Crow
Oklahoma. For whites, and particularly those in power, it was an
instrument of control, intended to maintain the social, and particularly
racial, order.
These conflicting visions clashed in the riot. Dismayed by the
abrogation of justice demonstrated by vigilante mobs facilitated by
local police, militant black Tulsans had begun in the months prior to
the riot to form their own defensive brigades to protect potential
lynching victims. One of these armed black delegations seeking to
protect a black prisoner threatened by the rope and faggot sparked the
riot. This final black assertion for justice was simply too much for
whites fearful of increasing black militancy and the growing prosperity
of Greenwood, Tulsa's black community. They were more than ready to
start "Running the Negro out of Tulsa," as the triumphalist
caption claimed on one riot photograph. in the end, Greenwood lay in
ashes. National Guard troops, aided by hundreds of civilians deputized
into the city police force, burned thirty-five blocks to the ground, and
killed dozens of black citizens. Using airplanes for surveillance, and
perhaps even to bomb the neighborhood, white Tulsans showed that t hey
too had learned some lessons well from the first modern war.
After the riot, city officials continued to be consistent in their
desire for a white-dominated order, attempting to rezone the Greenwood
area for (white) industrial development until the courts stopped them
based on the property rights of Greenwood's property owners, and
refusing to compensate the victims (despite acknowledging some
culpability) when narrow legal interpretations of the state's
responsibility to riot victims allowed them to do so. it is this latter
evidence that is the basis of Brophy's case for state reparations
to victims of the riot, which he details in his concluding chapter.
Brophy's work is more limited in its chronological scope than
Wilder's, and its lack of historiographical context might lead
readers to conclude that the age of official oppression is long over.
However, his book is extremely effective, both in terms of its narrative
structure, his insights about race and the law (particularly as they
pertained to the urban South), and his vivid portrait of pre-riot
Greenwood's prosperity and vitality. In contrast to Wilder, his
story is almost entirely constructed from primary sources, largely the
black press and previously unused testimony from civil court records of
lawsuits seeking compensation from insurance companies and the city
after the riot. While this sometimes means that pertinent insights from
other scholars are missing, Brophy compensates for this lapse through
his careful use of testimony. Demonstrating his skills as a legal
scholar, he presents his evidence fully, weighing it judiciously by
pointing out inconsistencies and paradoxes. This is particularly usefu l
in terms of understanding the contentious debates within the black
community about the appropriate response to Jim Crow discrimination and
his discussion of the ambiguities of the National Guard's fateful
decision to disarm Greenwood's residents and to take them into
"protective" custody, thus leaving the neighborhood
defenseless. Brophy treats every actor in this tale fairly, all the
while making an ironclad case that white Tulsa was to blame.
For these reasons, Reconstructing the Dreamland is a particularly
valuable book for undergraduates, giving them a short, interesting model
of the historical method, and providing myriad questions for debate in
classes dealing with African-American, race, or public policy issues.
Further, the final chapter, where Brophy makes the case for reparations,
brings the story very much into current policy debates, thus showing
students history's relevance. Wilder's book would be a natural
companion source for faculty wishing to contextualize Brophy's work
for their students -- to make them understand the broad geographical and
chronological scope, and the ever-changing but ongoing impact of the
"covenant with color."