Month: November 2024

“An Equal Chance:” Ada B. Harris, Norwood, and the Black Progressive Movement Part II

“Former ‘Bad’ Town Now an Ideal Spot,” Indianapolis Star, August 1, 1909, 25, accessed Newspapers.com.

During the Progressive Era, Black women were often excluded from both white reform initiatives and male-dominated Black organizations. In response, Black women across the nation formed local clubs that allowed them to exercise agency and agitate for reform. The club movement was especially popular in Indianapolis. Editor Nina Mjagkij found that, “Between 1880 and 1920, Indianapolis’s black club women created more than five hundred clubs that addressed a wide range of social issues and laid the foundation for political activism.”[1] These clubs comprised educated upper-middle class women who sought to address problems such as urbanization, racial and gender barriers, education, and public health.[2]

Educator and reformer Ada B. Harris led the Black women’s club movement in Norwood, a historic neighborhood located in Southeast Indianapolis. The previous Untold Indiana Blog commemorated Harris’ decades-long career as an educator at Harriett Beecher Stowe School No. 64, one of the only public schools for Black children in Indianapolis. It also discussed her tireless work to fundraise and build communal spaces in the segregated city. This second blog will examine her leadership in the Black women’s club movement and how it related to the national Black Progressive movement.

Black Civic Involvement & Women’s Suffrage

Harris dedicated much of her time advocating for Black women’s suffrage and participating in civic projects. In 1894, Harris helped establish the Corinthian Baptist Church’s Women’s Club, which later became the Woman’s Civic Club. With over 300 members, the club encouraged Black women’s participation in politics by offering education about voting, hosting political discourse, and inviting prominent speakers to Norwood.[3] In 1904, they hosted prominent reformer May Wright Sewall at the A.M.E. Chapel for a fundraising event.[4] Harris herself often spoke to club members, discussing the ideology of major civil rights activists such as W. E. B. Dubois. The Woman’s Civic Club often collaborated with other clubs and organizations in Indianapolis, including the church’s Men’s Civic Club, the Good Citizens League, and the Flanner Guild.

In 1917, Harris volunteered to help register women for the Indianapolis Woman’s Franchise Leagues’ upcoming constitutional convention.[5] The League was one of the leading suffragist groups in the city and instrumental in organizing public rallies such as a statewide automobile tour in 1912 and marching to the statehouse in 1913.

Women won the right to vote in 1920 and Harris soon mobilized to educate Black women on political matters and encourage them to vote. In 1925, Harris held a “nonpartisan citizenship school,” at the YWCA on North West and Twelfth Street to “inform the women on the principles of the leading political parties and the issues of the campaign.” The Indianapolis News reported that over 100 Black women attended.[6] She also served on a women’s political committee which helped involve women in local politics. Throughout her career, she also spoke at various associations and organizations on how to register and vote, even becoming a public notary and holding “voting parties” in Norwood.[7]

Harris’s ideas of civic duty and virtue did not end at the ballot box. During World War I, Harris founded the Franchise Economy Club, which coincided with the national rationing movement. Members learned homespun canning techniques for a myriad of vegetables, including “green grapes, rhubarb, beans, peas and greens.”[8] Harris was so dedicated to the conservation of foodstuffs on the homefront that she traveled to West Lafayette to attend Purdue University’s conservation school in 1918. Notably, she was the only Black student to enroll in this course.[9] Learning cutting edge-methods for canning and food preservation, Harris would return to Norwood and disseminate this information to the public through local classes. She even converted an old building into a modern kitchen to aid her teaching.[10] These many activities demonstrate Harris’s deep commitment to both obtaining the vote and Black political participation.

“Norwood Cooking Class,” Indianapolis Star, August 4, 1918, 19, accessed Newspapers.com.

Women’s Improvement Club & Health Initiatives

While Harris was involved in numerous clubs and organizations, perhaps her most important work stemmed from her leadership of the Women’s Improvement Club (WIC). Founded by Lillian Thomas Fox in 1904 as an exclusive literary club for upper-middle-class Black women, the members soon decided to pursue philanthropic ventures. At the time the local hospital refused to open a tuberculosis ward for Black patients, leaving a devastating gap in Black healthcare.[11] Additionally, Norwood struggled with underdeveloped infrastructure and poor sanitation, increasing the risk of disease for its residents.[12] WIC decided to open a fresh-air camp where Black tuberculosis patients could rest and receive care.

Already familiar with grassroots organizing and fundraising, Harris was instrumental in establishing the Oak Hill Camp. Meeting minutes show that she co-led the club committee responsible for establishing Oak Hill, and scoped out possible locations for the camp herself. In addition, she headed fundraising and organizational efforts to buy supplies for the camp and solicit Black physicians and nurses to care for patients.[13]

Lee A. Johnson, “Woman’s Improvement Club Rounds Out Thirty Years of Philanthropic service in Valiant Fight Against Tuberculosis,” Indianapolis Recorder, April 7, 1934, 3, accessed Hoosier State Chronicles.

The Oak Hill Tuberculosis Camp opened in spring of 1905 and treated six patients. According to club member Lee Johnson, “the setting was very beautiful for the patients, located on a high hill with grand oak trees spreading their shady boughs over a tiny stream that trickled at the base.”[14] The Indianapolis News noted that Oak Hill was one of the only healthcare resources for Black Tuberculosis patients in Indianapolis. The camp soon had a waiting list of patients.[15] Until its closure in 1916, Oak Hill was annually organized, sponsored, and funded by the philanthropy of WIC. Running on a shoestring budget of charity funds, WIC solicited volunteers to help operate the camp and many Black physicians and nurses donated their personal time.

Club women also went beyond the camp, launching city-wide educational campaigns and facilitating trainings for Black nurses otherwise barred from white training programs to treat tuberculosis patients. They also attempted to lobby the City Hospital to build a cottage for Black patients, but these efforts proved unsuccessful.[16]

In 1916, the camp was closed but WIC continued its work aiding tuberculosis patients. They loaned tents to the homes of patients, assisted them in finding other healthcare services, and provided transportation for many. They also continued facilitating nurse training programs and bought an official club cottage at 535 Agnes Street in 1922. The club would continue its various tuberculosis initiatives until the 1960s, when medical advances reduced the threat of tuberculosis.[17] As a founding member of the club and a major force for the camps’ organization and fundraising, Harris helped address a major and tragic gap in Black healthcare.

Oak Hill Tuberculosis Camp, 1905, photograph, courtesy of the Indiana Historical Society.

Conclusion

Harris exemplifies the Black Progressive club woman movement in her devotion to the period’s philosophy of Black self-help and improvement through local, grassroots organization. Originally excluded from Progressive reform, Black club women across the nation such as Harris were able to claim the Progressive philosophy for their own communities and causes, namely that of suffrage and racial inequality. In doing so, Harris and other women emboldened their local communities to be active agents for change.

By advocating for public education, encouraging Black women’s political participation, and helping to provide health care to TB patients, Harris enhanced the living standards of Norwood. Her work also empowered Black citizens to agitate for their own welfare, paving the way for the future Civil Rights Movement. In short, Black reform went beyond simply improving local communities and, by upholding standards of excellence, these reformers made a compelling argument that they too deserved a proverbial seat at America’s dinner table. They sought an equal chance. When asked about her work in Norwood, Harris stated,

“My field has been small in Norwood, but it has been plenty large enough for my abilities. At least I shall have spent my life for my race.” – Ada B. Harris[18]

When historians and current residents recount Norwood’s storied history, they ought to recognize one of their best reformers and advocates in Ada B. Harris.

Acknowledgements 

Thank you to Kisha Tandy, curator at the Indiana State Museum, for spearheading the marker application for Ada B. Harris and conducting the initial research into Harris’s life and legacy.

For Further Reading

Ferguson Rae, Earline. “The Woman’s Improvement Club of Indianapolis: Black Women Pioneers in Tuberculosis Work, 1903-1938.” Indiana Magazine of History 84, no. 3 (September 1998): 273-261.

Tandy B., Kisha. “Ada Harris: Civic Leader, Educator, and Entrepreneur.” Encyclopedia of Indianapolis. May 2023, https://indyencyclopedia.org/ada-harris/.

Citations

[1] Nina Mjagkij, Organizing Black America: An Encyclopedia of African American Associations (New York, NY: Garland Publishing Inc., 2001), 271-274.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Description of mock political debate given by women, Indianapolis News, October 27, 1892, 2, accessed newspapers.com; Announcement of Harris giving a speech at Corinthian Baptist Church, Indianapolis News, October 8, 1900, 11, accessed Newspapers.com; “Woman’s Club Notes,” Indianapolis Recorder, August 10, 1907, 4, accessed Newspapers.com.

[4] “In Colored Circles,” Indianapolis News, April 25, 1904, 13, accessed Newspapers.com.

[5] “Registration Week for Women of the City,” Indianapolis News, June 23, 1917, 18, accessed Hoosier State Chronicles.

[6] “Organizing Voting School,” Indianapolis News, September 18, 1920, 19, accessed Newspapers.com; “Citizenship School Held,” Indianapolis News, October 2, 1920, 2, accessed Newspapers.com.

[7] “Registration Week for Women of the City,” Indianapolis News, June 23, 1917, 18, accessed Newspapers.com; Kisha B. Tandy, “Ada Harris: Civic Leader, Educator, and Entrepreneur,” accessed Encyclopedia of Indianapolis, May 2023, https://indyencyclopedia.org/ada-harris/.

[8] “Norwood Has an Economy Club,” Indianapolis Star, July 29, 1917, 4, accessed Newspapers.com.

[9] Article on Harris attending Purdue University for women’s conservation school, Indianapolis News, July 6, 1918, p. 9, accessed via Newspapers.com

[10] Article on Franchise Economy Club, Indianapolis News, January 19, 1918, 11, accessed Newspapers.com; article on Harris attending Purdue University for women’s conservation school, Indianapolis News, July 6, 1918,  9, accessed Newspapers.com; “Norwood Cooking Class,” Indianapolis Star, August 4, 1918, 19, accessed Newspapers.com.

[11] Earline Rae Ferguson, “The Woman’s Improvement Club of Indianapolis: Black Women Pioneers in Tuberculosis Work, 1903-1938,” Indiana Magazine of History 84, no. 3 (September 1988): 237-261.

[12] “Bad Condition at Norwood,” Indianapolis Journal, September 30, 1903, 10, accessed Newspapers.com; “Measles at Norwood,” Indianapolis News, December 17, 1903, 5, accessed Newspapers.com.

[13] Women’s Improvement Club Minute Books, 1919-1911, Women’s Improvement Club Collection, 1909-1965, Indiana Historical Society, Indianapolis, Indiana; Women’s Improvement Club Minute Books, 1916-1918, Women’s Improvement Club Collection, 1909-1965, Indiana Historical Society, Indianapolis, Indiana.

[14] Lee A. Johnson, “Woman’s Improvement Club Rounds Out Thirty Years of Philanthropic service in Valiant Fight Against Tuberculosis,” Indianapolis Recorder, April 7, 1934, 3, accessed Hoosier State Chronicles.

[15] “For Tuberculosis Sufferers,” Indianapolis News, August 4, 1911, 8, accessed Newspapers.com.

[16] Ferguson, “The Women’s Improvement Club,” 254.

[17] Lee A. Johnson, “Woman’s Improvement Club Rounds Out Thirty Years of Philanthropic service in Valiant Fight Against Tuberculosis,” Indianapolis Recorder, April 7, 1934, 3, accessed Hoosier State Chronicles.

[18] “Former ‘Bad’ Town Now an Ideal Spot,” Indianapolis Star, August 1, 1909, 25, accessed Newspapers.com.

“An Equal Chance:” Ada B. Harris, Norwood, and the Black Progressive Movement

Ada Harris, courtesy of The Drift 1925 (Indianapolis, Indiana: 1925), Butler Yearbooks, p. 62, accessed Digital Commons @ Butler University.

“My greatest ambition is for my race. I want to see my people succeed. I want to see them have an equal chance.”

– Ada B. Harris[1]

In the late 1800s and early 1900s the neighborhood of Norwood, which lay Southeast of downtown Indianapolis, was one of the most vibrant Black communities in the area. Originating during the Civil War, the 28th U.S. Colored Troops (USCT) drilled a Camp Freemont near present-day Norwood, and, at the end of the war, many returned to the area and set down roots. The neighborhood was bolstered by the Great Migration during which Black Americans moved North to seek better economic opportunities and flee from Southern racial violence and discrimination.[2]

Living in a highly segregated society, the Norwood community struggled with poor infrastructure, poverty, and subpar sanitation during its early years. However, by 1909, something had changed within Norwood. The Indianapolis Star wrote, “A few years ago. . . Norwood was a moral blot on the map of Marion County. . .Today Norwood is a placid collection of homes. The stranger is accorded courtesy, and lawbreaking is almost unknown.” The article continued by discussing the infrastructure improvements noting, “Where a few years ago the settlement had no place for amusement, the town now boasts of a Boys’ Clubhouse, a dancing pavilion, run for the club’s benefit, and a little park with seats, grass and flowers.” When the newspaper talked with residents about the improvements and its origins, they found that, “with the same sureness that all roads lead to Rome, each circumstance goes directly to one source— Miss Ada Harris.”[3]

Reformer and educator Ada B. Harris embraced the Progressive Era philosophy of improvement and applied it to her community, championing a myriad of causes. An accomplished woman, Harris’s list of achievements is long enough to merit two blog posts examining her work as both an educator and progressive reformer. This post explores Harris’s decades-long career as a teacher and principal at Norwood’s Harriett Beecher Stowe School and her efforts to establish communal spaces and amenities for the Norwood neighborhood. In doing so, she boldly challenged local racial prejudice and elevated the welfare of Black Hoosiers in the segregated city.

Company E, 4th U.S. Colored Infantry at Fort Lincoln, District of Columbia, ca. 1863, photographed by William Morris Smith, Prints and Photographs Division, accessed Library of Congress.

Harris was born on August 15, 1866, in Campbell, Kentucky to Robert Harris and Hannah Tolliver. She moved with her mother to Indianapolis as a child and graduated from Indianapolis High School (later renamed Shortridge High School) in 1888.[4] Upon graduation, Harris began teaching at School No. 5 in Norwood. At the time, School No. 5 was one-room schoolhouse that operated independently from the Indianapolis Public School System (IPS). It was one of the few schools that hired Black teachers and taught Black children in the segregated city. Harris stepped into a leadership position early on and was officially appointed principal by 1903, the same year the community decided to rename the school Harriett Beecher Stowe School No. 5 after the abolitionist.[5]

“Norwood Colored School Named for Harriett Beecher Stowe,” Indianapolis News, September 7, 1902, 12, accessed Newspapers.com.

Under Harris’s leadership, the school grew exponentially. In 1896, Harriett Beecher Stowed enrolled approximately 53 students. By 1903, enrollment was listed at over 150 pupils. Education was a core priority for the Norwood community. Ada B. Harris and other Indianapolis residents were inspired by author and activist W. E. B. Du Bois’s ideology. He argued that education, economic independence, and political activism were key to achieving full civil rights for the Black community. This philosophy turned educational settings such as School No. 5 into one of the central battlegrounds for the blooming Civil Rights Movement and struggle for equality in Reconstruction America.

The Indianapolis News described Harris as “a thorough teacher, loved and honored by every child of her school.”[6] Harris endeavored to provide students with a quality education and instill a sense of social responsibility in them. She hosted annual Thanksgiving dinners for the students, which “consisted of turkey, cranberry sauce, scalloped oysters, vegetables, pumpkin pie, ice cream, and cake.”[7] She also introduced sewing classes, organized and directed the school plays, and founded a parent’s club to involve them in their child’s education.[8] Steeped in the ideals of civic virtue, Harris attempted to instill those same morals into her students. In March of 1913, she and twenty of her students visited the county treasurer and filed their parents’ taxes. She emphasized that it was every citizen’s obligation to pay taxes and impressed a feeling of responsibility in the children.[9] Surely, the parents appreciated the field trip as well that year.

In 1912, Norwood was annexed by Indianapolis and the school incorporated into the Indianapolis Public School system.[10] School No. 5 became IPS No. 64, and Harris remained principal until her resignation in 1924.[11] In addition to teaching at No. 64, Harris also served as a vocational instructor for Emmerich Manual Training High School in 1921.[12] After resigning from School No. 64, Harris attended Butler College at the age of 60 and earned a college degree to “prepare herself for the more recent demands of the city schools.” Harris then accepted a teaching position at Rockville High School, but unfortunately suffered from a series of strokes and spent limited time at Rockville before passing away on September 9, 1927.[13] Throughout her career, Norwood residents praised her dedication to its students, and she consistently went above and beyond to provide them with not only a quality education but prepare them for their adult lives.

Perhaps one of Harris’s most impactful endeavors was establishing and leading the Boys’ Lookout Club. Established in 1904, the club’s objective was “the upbuilding of character and the general improvement of their [the boys] social condition.” Harris achieved this through teaching different skills related to social responsibility and civic virtue such as “good deportment in the home and public places, [and] kindness to animals and kindred subjects.”[14] The Boys’ Club met twice a month after school and early on they began fundraising to purchase land for a public gymnasium, reading room, and park for the community. A brilliant grassroots organizer, Harris led club efforts to solicit subscriptions for the land from Norwood residents. Her efforts proved wildly successful. In less than a year, the club bought land on Prospect Street for $2,000 to serve as the official Boys’ Club grounds. The property had a four-room farmhouse, a small brick building, and a barn, which was transformed into the Boys’ Club Pavilion. The club worked to transform the space, and it soon opened as a public park and picnic grounds for Norwood.[15] In an area with poor infrastructure and investment, the Boys’ Club grounds served as a key communal space for residents to relax, hold events, and socialize with one another.

“Boys’ Club of Norwood Plans Better Club House,” Indianapolis Star, June 16, 1909, 9, accessed Newspapers.com.

Harris and the Boy’s Club soon set their sights on building a gymnasium. In August of 1907, the club organized a four-night carnival to fundraise for the gymnasium. In 1909, while reporting on the Boys’ Club, the Indianapolis Star wrote that “Miss Harris has so carefully handled the business affairs of the club in the past that she has already received promises of the support of many of the leading colored men and women of Indianapolis,” for the gymnasium. The gymnasium was successfully opened by 1910.[16] Harris’s ability to fundraise and organize for both the gym and club grounds demonstrates her strong leadership skills and influence. A grassroots endeavor, these efforts also show Norwood residents’ strong resolve to transform the area, which had received limited investment and infrastructure amid segregation, into a vibrant community. This community-driven mindset is still present in Norwood today through groups such as the Norwood Neighborhood Association which has advocated against the gentrification of the area.

In 1911, Harris organized a children’s library association to fundraise for a community library on the Boys’ Club grounds.[17] According to the Indianapolis News, this was in response to the Norwood school library burning down two years prior. Harris personally started the book collection for the library and began soliciting book donations. The library was opened officially in September of 1912 and the Indianapolis Star heralded it as the “first colored library in Indianapolis.”[18] The library opened with a collection of 1,000 books and opened professional opportunities for Black residents including Willa Resnover, who served as Norwood’s first librarian.[19] Ultimately, Harris’s leadership and exceptional fundraising abilities mobilized the Norwood neighborhood to invest in their community and, in response to segregation, create their own communal spaces to socialize, relax, and connect with one another.

Even after Harris’s death in 1927, the fruits of her grassroots organization and educational leadership have continued into modern day. Harriett Beecher Stowe School No. 64 operated and served the Norwood neighborhood for over a century, closing in 2009. Pride Park stands on the former property of the Boys’ Lookout Club and, in 2024, will be receiving new playground equipment. Modern-day Norwood residents take pride in the neighborhood’s roots and seek to honor its legacy by fostering the community’s tight-knit bonds and spearheading efforts to preserve its rich history. Many residents, such as Madonna Shaffner, can still trace their roots back to the 28th Indiana Infantry. Others have advocated for the establishment of “an intergenerational heritage center that would both honor Norwood’s past and provide a high-quality venue for community strengthening services and programming.” In many ways, the current residents echo and continue Harris’ legacy, seeking to continually improve Norwood’s housing, infrastructure, public services, and public education. Much of the community’s vibrancy and qualities can be attributed to a single dedicated teacher.

Part II examines Harris’s work as a progressive reformer beyond the classroom. It explores her work establishing a fresh-air tuberculosis camp, championing Black women’s suffrage, and patriotic homefront work during World War I. Stay tuned!

Notes:

[1] Indianapolis Star, August 1, 1909, 33, accessed Newspapers.com.

[2] Background History of Norwood Neighborhood, Norwood Neighborhood, Indianapolis Bicentennial Collection, 2019_0006, accessed Indiana Historical Society Digital Collections.

[3] “Former ‘Bad’ Town Now an Ideal Spot,” Indianapolis Star, August 1, 1909, 25, accessed Newspapers.com.

[4] “High School Commencement,” Indianapolis Journal, February 4, 1888, 3, accessed Hoosier State Chronicles.

[5] “Dedicate a Flagpole,” Indianapolis Star, September 8, 1903, 10, accessed Newspapers.com; “Harriet Beecher Stowe: Flagpole Raised with Ceremony at Norwood School,” Indianapolis Recorder, September 12, 1903, 1, accessed Newspapers.com; A Historical Sketch of School No. 64, 1953, Indianapolis Public Schools Digital Collection, accessed Indianapolis Public Library; History of Harriet Beecher Stowe School 64, 1969, Indianapolis Public Schools Digital Collection, accessed Indianapolis Public Library.

[6] “The Norwood School Trouble,” Indianapolis News, January 16, 1899, 8, accessed Newspapers.com.

[7] “Dinner Served at School,” Indianapolis News, November 26, 1903, 8, accessed Newspapers.com.

[8] Indianapolis News, April 3, 1909, 5, accessed Newspapers.com; “Pupils appear in Play,” Indianapolis Star, June 9,1902, 14, accessed Newspapers.com; “Present One-Act Playlet,” Indianapolis Star, June 11, 1910, 14, accessed Newspapers.com; “A Successful Entertainment,” The Freeman, April 2, 1898, 8, accessed Google Newspapers.

[9] “To Pay Parent’s Taxes,” Indianapolis News, March 8, 1913, 4, accessed Newspapers.com.

[10] “Norwood School Now Public School No. 64,” Indianapolis Recorder, October 12, 1912, 2, accessed Hoosier State Chronicles.

[11] “Resignations,” Indianapolis Star, June 18, 1924, 14, accessed Newspapers.com.

[12] “Instructors Appointed,” Indianapolis Star, September 28, 1921, 15, accessed Newspapers.com.

[13] “Former Teacher is Dead,” Indianapolis News, September 17, 1927, 39, accessed Newspapers.com.

[14] “Boys’ Club at Norwood,” Indianapolis News, May 21, 1904, 9, accessed Newspapers.com.

[15] “Building for Norwood Youth,” Indianapolis News, June 23, 1906, 8, accessed Newspapers.com; “Gymnasium for the Norwood Youth,” The Freeman, July 7, 1906, 4, accessed Google Newspapers; “Negroes may Have Club,” Indianapolis Star, July 22, 1906, 13, accessed Newspapers.com.

[16] Advertisement for a Boys’ Club Carnival, Indianapolis News, August 10, 1907, 11, accessed Newspapers.com; “Boys’ Club of Norwood Plans Better Club House,” Indianapolis Star, June 16, 1909, 9, accessed Newspapers.com.

[17] “For Library at Norwood,” Indianapolis News, April 24, 1911, 4, accessed Newspapers.com.

[18] “City’s First Colored Library is Dedicated,” Indianapolis Star, September 23, 1912,12, accessed Newspapers.com.

[19] “Norwood Library,” Indianapolis Recorder, May 6, 1911, 1, accessed Hoosier State Chronicles; “Norwood has a Library,” The Freeman, September 21, 1912, 8, accessed Google Newspapers.

Injustice’s Lariat: Lynching in Indiana

Indiana, a state claimed as “free” from its statehood in 1816, was nevertheless the 7th highest non-southern state with racial terror lynchings, with 18 separate incidents. When searching through Indiana newspapers, many stories emerge of outlaw vigilantes who terrorized and brutalized African-Americans, sometimes for nothing more than alleged crimes. Since many were lynched before they received equal justice under the law, many of their lives ended tragically through injustice under the lariat.

To learn more about Flossie Bailey, check out Nicole Poletika’s article from the Indiana History Blog.

Learn about other stories of lynching at Chronicling America (https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/) and Hoosier State Chronicles (www.hoosierstatechronicles.org).

Learn more Indiana History from the Indiana Historical Bureau: http://www.in.gov/history/

Visit our Blog: https://blog.newspapers.library.in.gov/

Learn more about the history relevance campaign at https://www.historyrelevance.com/.

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Credits:

Written and produced by Justin Clark.

Footage from CNN, PBS Newshour, the Guardian, Dryerbuzz, and the Equal Justice Initiative

Photo by Citizensheep on Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA

Photo by Fraser Mummery on Foter.com / CC BY

Photo by Claire Anderson on Unsplash

Music: “Ether” by Silent Partner, “Dramatic, Sad Ambient Song” by MovieMusic, and “Slow, Dramatic, Acoustic Song” by MovieMusic.

Full Text of Video

The United States, regardless of its successes, has a dark past that we still grapple with today. A new and powerful reminder to the injustice of the American past is the National Memorial for Peace and Justice, located in Montgomery, Alabama. On the six-acre memorial stand “800 corten steel monuments, one for each county in the United States where a racial terror lynching took place. The names of the lynching victims are engraved on the columns.” Additional, blank monuments have been added to include yet-undiscovered lynching.

The monument was the brainchild of the Equal Justice Initiative, a nonprofit “committed to ending mass incarceration and excessive punishment in the United States, to challenging racial and economic injustice, and to protecting basic human rights for the most vulnerable people in American society.” In its 2017 report, “Lynching in America: Confronting the Legacy of Terror,” the EJI “uncovered more than 4,400 victims from 1877 to 1950, including 800 previously unknown cases.”

While the vast majority of lynching occurred in the south, a sizable portion occurred in the Midwest. Indiana, a state claimed as “free” from its statehood in 1816, was nevertheless the 7th highest non-southern state with racial terror lynchings, with 18 separate incidents. One way historians have uncovered these horrific crimes is with newspapers. When searching through Indiana papers, many stories emerge of outlaw vigilantes who terrorized and brutalized African-Americans, sometimes for nothing more than alleged crimes. Since many were lynched before they received equal justice under the law, many of their lives ended tragically through injustice under the lariat.

One of the earliest lynchings in Indiana newspapers was chronicled by the Marshall County Republican on November 23, 1871. Three African-Americans, whose names were only given as “Johnson, Davis, and Taylor,” were accused of the murder of the Park family in Henryville, Clark County. Matthew Clegg, “a shystering lawyer” from Henryville, had a dispute with the Parks and when he likely had them murdered, he pushed the blame to the three local African-American men. When the grand jury couldn’t find enough evidence to indict them, the local vigilance committee took matters into their own hands. They broke through the jail, grabbed the three men, placed nooses around their neck, and dragged them through the street. They were then strung up next to each other on a tree. The Republican described their bodies in painful detail; Taylor’s description was the most gruesome: “His form was nude, save the slight remnants of a white shirt that was stretched across his lower limbs, while the hangman’s knot under his chin threw his head back in, a gasping movement, and his white teeth and distended lips grinned with a fiend-like scowl . . . .” It is unclear from the newspaper account if anyone was tried for the lynching.

In 1886, the Indiana State Sentinel reported the lynching of Holly Epps, who had been accused of the murder of a local farmer in Greene County. Around 12:50 on the morning of January 18, a “crowd of masked men” brandishing “sledgehammers and various other implements” descended on the Knox County jail. After failing to cajole the sheriff to open the door, the horde broke in, smashed through the jail cell, and dragged Epps out into the cold of night. Using the closest tree they could find, the mob strung Epps up and “for fully fifteen minutes he struggled for life, when death came to his relief.” The mob left his hanging remains on the courthouse grounds to be found by the county prosecutor. The sentiment of the citizens of the county, as recorded by the Sentinel, was one of satisfaction. “Citizens of all classes justify the lynching, and the moral sentiment is that the Greene County vigilants did a justifiable act in summarily removing the fiend from the face of the earth,” the Sentinel commented. The lynch mob were never prosecuted for their actions.

The 1889 lynching of Peter Willis in northern Kosciusko County received weird and contradictory coverage in the Indianapolis Journal. In its July 22, 1889 issue, the Journal ran a nondescript blurb about Willis’s lynching at the hands of a mob after he was charged with assaulting a little girl. The South Bend Tribune and the Indiana State Sentinel also ran stories with the same details. Then six days later, completely disregarding its previous coverage, the Journal published an editorial claiming “the assault and lynching episode referred to by the Sentinel [as well as the Tribune] never occurred, and is wholly an imaginary tragedy . . . .” The editorial further noted that “the only truth contained in the item is the superfluous information concerning the geographical location of Kosciusko county, which it says ‘is not in Mississippi or South Carolina,’ . . . and the further assertion that ‘it is the banner Republican county of Indiana.’” There’s nothing named Kosciusko in South Carolina and only a town named that in Mississippi; it was the Sentinel’s and Tribune’s way of saying it was in Indiana and highlighting that this can happen in the north. If the Journal thought they could drive a wedge of doubt through their phrasing, they were wrong. Furthermore, the fact that a county has Republican leanings says nothing about whether a lynching can occur there. This editorial was likely a political device to stave off criticism against a northern, Republican-leaning Indiana county. Sadly, it was misleading people about the unlawful execution of a person who had not yet been proven guilty in a court of law.

The beginning of the new century brought with it the same kinds of lawlessness that led to lynching, despite the Indiana General Assembly passing anti-lynching laws in 1899 and 1901. George Moore, an African American accused of assaulting two women and fleeing law enforcement, was lynched on the evening of November 20, 1902. He was “hanged to a telephone pole” in Sullivan County after a mob of roughly 40 men fought against the sheriff’s department. Moore had been a fugitive, attempting an escape to Illinois when he was captured by authorities in Lawrenceville, Illinois. The mob “beat him over the head with their weapons” before they hanged him. Governor Winfield T. Durbin was troubled by the situation and tried to stop it, but the requisite military and law enforcement officers couldn’t get there in time. It was another instance of mob violence instead of real justice, and the Indianapolis Journal said as much two days later in an editorial. “It is no excuse for mob law to say that the legal penalty in such cases is inadequate,” the Journal declared, “That is not for any mob or any community to say. If the penalty is not severe enough let the law be changed in a regular way, but while the law stands it should be observed.”

Over the next thirty years, lynching began to decline in Indiana; it had become a national issue with near-passage of a federal anti-lynching law. Indiana’s last-known racially-motivated lynching was in 1930, in Marion, when Abe Smith and Thomas Shipp were hanged by a mob. The crime was so horrific that the Indiana General Assembly, urged by Indiana NAACP President Katherine “Flossie” Bailey and others, passed another anti-lynching law in 1931. This law required that any sheriff serving in a county were a lynching occurred be suspended or dismissed as well as repealed many past statutes that limited the victims or their families legal recourse. It was a partial solution to a definite problem, one Indiana contended with for decades.

It is a common notion that lynching, much like racism, was a southern phenomenon in the United States. These select stories from Indiana newspapers illustrate just how wrong that notion is. The prejudice that people felt motivated them to take the law into their own hands, with disastrous consequences. Justice should be applied by democratic institutions, not by mob rule. That’s how we ensure the principle of equality under the law. But animus against African Americans was stronger than the virtue of justice. As a group of preachers declared in a 1910 article for the Indianapolis Recorder:

. . . so long as wild men will be permitted to roam at will with ropes, shot and torch, so long will a cloud of national shame hang over the government. It is known that almost all of the lynched are members of the colored race, and in many instances the color of their skin is their only crime. It is also known that in the section of the country where almost all this barbarous and un-Christian practice is loved and cherished the colored people have no voice at the courts of mercy.

In knowing these stories, we can begin the process of healing. It will neither be swift, nor easy, but it is vital for our democracy. We owe it to the names engraved on each corten steel beam in Montgomery, Alabama, of at least 18 are from the Hoosier state.

Thanks for watching. Please click “like” in you enjoyed this video and make sure to subscribe to keep updated on all new videos. To learn more about Flossie Bailey, check out Nicole Poletika’s article from the Indiana History Blog. Learn about other stories of lynching at Chronicling America and Hoosier State Chronicles. The links are in the description. Finally, have you visited the National Memorial for Peace and Justice? Were you aware of lynchings in Indiana before? What do you think we can do today to advance peace and justice? Leave your answers in the comments below. We want to hear from YOU.

Articles from Chronicling America and Hoosier State Chronicles

Marshall County Republican, November 23, 1871, Chronicling America.
Indiana State Sentinel, July 1, 1875, Chronicling America.
Marshall County Republican, October 17, 1878, Chronicling America.
Indiana State Sentinel, January 20, 1886, Chronicling America.
Indianapolis News, August 24, 1886, Hoosier State Chronicles.
Indianapolis Journal, July 22, 1889, Chronicling America.
Indiana State Sentinel, July 24, 1889, Chronicling America.
Indianapolis Journal, July 28, 1889, Chronicling America.
Indianapolis Journal, February 9, 1890, Chronicling America.
Indianapolis News, December 18, 1900, Hoosier State Chronicles.
Indianapolis News, December 18, 1900, Hoosier State Chronicles.
Indianapolis News, February 26, 1901, Hoosier State Chronicles.
Indianapolis Journal, March 1, 1901, Chronicling America.
Indianapolis News, March 1, 1901, Hoosier State Chronicles.
Indianapolis Journal, November 21, 1902, Chronicling America.
Los Angeles Herald – November 21, 1902, California Digital Newspaper Collection.
Indianapolis Journal, November 22, 1901, Chronicling America.
Indianapolis News, November 24, 1902, Hoosier State Chronicles.
Greencastle Herald, August 3, 1911, Hoosier State Chronicles.
Lake County Times, April 23, 1920, Chronicling America.
Indianapolis Recorder, August 29, 1931, Hoosier State Chronicles.
Indianapolis Recorder, March 14, 1931, Hoosier State Chronicles.

The “Genial Postmaster”: Dr. Alois Wollenmann

Dr. Alois Wollenmann in his office, Ferdinand News, September 26, 1991, Newspapers.com

In the latter days of the summer of 1904, the decision of a local doctor and postmaster caused an uproar in Ferdinand, Indiana and even caught attention across the country. “People in the vicinity of Ferdinand do not like the action of the postmaster and are loud in condemning him,” wrote the Evansville Courier. The Fort Wayne Sentinel noted that “threats have been made to burn the doctor in effigy and boycott his office.” The Paris, Kentucky-based Bourbon News wrote that a “storm is raging among the white people” of Ferdinand after the appointment. The Nebraska City, Nebraska Daily Tribune noted that the public were “excited over” the decision.

What could have caused all this furor? Dr. Alois Wollenmann, pharmacist and postmaster of Ferdinand appointed 16-year-old Ida P. Hagan to the position of deputy postmaster. While her age might have been controversial enough, there was one particular detail about Hagan which might have been more important: she was a Black woman. Wollenmann, a Republican in an almost exclusively Democratic area, with mostly Democratic public officials, made the bold and courageous decision to appoint a Black young woman to be his assistant, at a time when racial terror lynchings were regular occurrences and Jim Crow was bifurcating the country. He stuck by his decision, saying that it was “his own business” whom he appointed as his assistant and she would “remain as assistant as long as he is postmaster in Ferdinand.”

Evansville Courier and Press, August 11, 1904, Newspapers.com

This decision represented the character of Alois Wollenmann, a Swiss immigrant who chose Ferdinand as his home and, through Hagan’s appointment, moved said home in the direction of racial equality. A skilled and versatile physician, Wollenmann routinely published articles on a wide array of topics, many on improving the lives of children. He served as Ferdinand’s dedicated postmaster for nearly fifteen years, winning the trust and support of the community. Wollenmann’s contributions to Ferdinand stand as examples of courage and commitment to community that still resonate with his adopted home.

Alois Wollenmann was born in 1864 in Neuenkirch, Switzerland, to Anton and Agatha Wollenmann. While sources provide us little about his life pre-immigration, we know that Wollenmann graduated from the University of Munich in 1889, likely in medicine. He emigrated to the United States shortly thereafter, according to the United States Census. He first settled in the town of St. Meinrad, Indiana, practicing medicine there, as well as learning English at the local seminary, which had been founded by a Swiss monk. His grandson, Leander Wollenmann, claimed that he also pursued additional medical training at the University of Kentucky School of Medicine.

Wollenmann marriage application, FamilySearch

He stayed there for a year before moving to Ferdinand in 1893, where he married Fidelia Kempf, the daughter of a medical professor who coincidentally taught at the University of Kentucky,. That October, the Kempfs sold four lots of land to the Wollenmanns in Ferdinand, as noted by the Jasper Weekly Courier, and both families remained cordial for years. Wollenmann fathered two sons, Werner and Max, as well as a daughter, Mary Margaret.

Within a few years, Wollenmann received his state medical license and started providing medical services, including for impoverished residents, in Dubois County, where he was also a member of its medical society.[i] Wollenmann also provided the county with guidance on inquests for the mentally ill. In 1903, he assisted another doctor in deeming a young woman insane, fulfilling requirements for her transfer to the asylum in Evansville. He also provided life-saving care to accident victims like Victor Greve. An employee of the Pitts Lumber Company in Ferdinand, Greve “fell from a log wagon and in falling tore open his abdomen so badly that the viscera protruded.” Dr. Wollenmann and another doctor “were called at once and it is believed that he will fully recover before many days.”[ii] Another example of life-saving care from Wollenmann came in 1909, when Gerhard Hoefels, ravenously hungry, swallowed “a chunk of meat” and “nearly choked to death when Dr. Wollenman [sic] arrived and relived him of his suffering.” From assisting the mentally ill to saving people from asphyxiation, Dr. Alois Wollenmann always lent a helping hand.

Jasper Herald, July 8, 1920, Newspapers.com

In 1892, Dr. Wollenmann “purchased a stock of medicines and opened a drug store,” known to its patrons as the Adler Apothak, or the “Eagle Pharmacy.” Here, he sold his own medicines as well as products from other practitioners like Lena Hug, who created a “rheumatism cure” and a “huge hair tonic.” Alongside medicines, he also provided eyecare services. “Are you in need of a pair of Eyeglasses?,” a notice declared in the July 9, 1909 edition of the Ferdinand News, “Well, then go to the Drug Store and have a pair correctly fitted by Dr. A. G. Wollenmann.”

When he wasn’t practicing medicine, Dr. Wollenmann wrote about it extensively. Numerous articles by him appeared in both English and German language journals, showcasing his wide talents as a physician. His 1895 contributions to Der praktische Arzt (The General Practitioner)  included treating childhood insomnia  and “atonic dyspepsia,” or gastrointestinal issues. In the January, 1897 issue of Leonard’s Illustrated Medical Journal, Wollenmann provided a medicinal prescription for combatting “acute bronchitis with protracted and putrid expectoration.” He published advice to young women with irregular menstrual cycles in a 1902 issue of the Medical and Surgical Monitor. A passage from one of his articles in the General Practitioner summed up his medical philosophy: “We cannot base our therapeutic intervention on a rigid pattern;” he wrote, “at every turn nature presents us with riddles, places obstacles in our path that we must try to solve and overcome with ingenuity.” With each publication, he stressed the need for physicians to tailor their approach to the specific disease or ailment as much as possible.

Wollenmann’s treatment of acute bronchitis, 1892, Google Books

In addition to work as a pharmacist, Dr. Wollenmann ensured the safe distribution of the mail in Ferdinand as its postmaster. He received his appointment as Ferdinand postmaster on July 19, 1897, after being personally recommended for the position by US Senator Charles Fairbanks. As postmaster, he often published personalized updates for community members in the local newspaper.[iii] He also provided newspaper updates on changing railway routes and their effect on mail delivery.

While Dr. Wollenmann was deeply respected in the community for his medical work, he nevertheless experienced the brunt of controversy in 1900 (something he would experience again with his appointment of Hagan in 1904). That summer, he found himself in the middle of lawsuit, accused of “assault and battery upon Mrs. Mary Bornwasser.” According to the Huntingburgh Independent, Bornwasser visited Wollenmann’s drugstore and post office to pay some past-due postage when Dr. Wollenmann “accused her with having taken a bottle of cologne from the store the day before.” A “war of words” began between the two and Wollenmann “ejected her from the building.” The case dragged on for weeks, largely the result of a juror getting sick and the jury subsequently not agreeing on their decision; seven agreed to acquit Dr. Wollenmann and five agreed to convict him. Eventually, the case was thrown out by the presiding judge. This must have been a stressful time for Wollenmann, whose reputation was slightly tarnished by the whole affair.

Terre Haute Semi-weekly Express, April 16, 1897, Hoosier State Chronicles

From his pharmacy and post office duties to the medical services he provided to county government, Dr. Wollenmann fully adopted Ferdinand as his community, and this became more evident when he decided to build his family a new home. In the summer of 1902, the Huntingburgh Independent reported that “Dr. A. G. Wollenmann is tearing down his old dwelling house preparatory to building a handsome two-story frame in its place. It will be of the Swiss style.” In particular, it was in the Swiss chalet style and seen as “an ornament to our town and speaks well for the Doctor’s good judgement” by the local press.[iv]

All seemed well for Alois Wollenmann as he and his family entered 1903, but tragedy would upend their happiness and change the doctor forever. In October of that year, his wife Fidelia died after giving birth to their third child, a girl named Mary Margaret, who also died shortly thereafter. He would never remarry. The grief that he experienced must have been excruciating. While this horrific chapter in his life could have broken him, Wollenmann stayed resilient and continued to serve his chosen community. It also led to his hiring of a young woman who would leave a comparable impact on Ferdinand.

Ida P. Hagan, Ferdinand News, September 26, 1991, Newspapers.com

Ida P. Hagan, a young resident of Pinkston settlement, a Black community west of Ferdinand, started working for Dr. Wollenmann after the death of his wife, attending to his children and home. A bright and hard-working young woman, Hagan showed professional potential that Dr. Wollenmann quickly discovered, hiring her to work in his pharmacy and post office. As Pat Backer later wrote in the Ferdinand News, “It was about this time [the death of Mrs. Wollenmann] that Dr. Wollenmann first asked Ida Hagen [sic] and a Pinkston woman to help him out” and “they would stay the week in Ferdinand helping him, and on weekends they would return to the Freedom Settlement.” With the death of Fidelia, the pharmacy and post office required a new assistant, which Wollenmann offered to Hagan in August of 1904.

Much of the newspaper coverage of Hagan’s appointment was negative, mostly towards Dr. Wollenmann, and not Hagan herself. While the Fort Wayne Sentinel complimented Hagan as a “exceptionally good looking and intelligent young woman,” they nevertheless noted that some of the Ferdinand public “are demanding the doctor’s resignation as postmaster and declare that they will not have him as physician in their homes.” The most unnerving example comes from the Jasper Herald, which published a racist poem that mocked her appointment. An interview with Hagan appeared in the Jasper Weekly Courier, where she said “that people were glad to see her working in their homes and she cannot see why they object to her working as deputy in a post office.” Despite facing the prospect of a recall, Dr. Wollenmann kept Hagan as his deputy, the negative publicity died down over time, and he was reappointed postmaster in 1906, serving in the role until his death.

Obituary for Fidelia Wollenmann, Huntingburgh Independent, October 17, 1903, Newspapers.com

Dr. Wollenmann, believing in Hagan as a young woman with promise, took her on as a mentor. He started to train her in more than just the duties of the post office; he also educated her in medicine, encouraging her to complete a pharmacy home-study course from Winona Technical Institute, which in 1909 was “the largest school of its kind in Indiana in point of students enrolled, and it [was] the seventh largest in the United States,” according to the Scottsboro Chronicle. In her application for a state pharmacist’s license, Dr. Wollenmann submitted a letter attached to a “Certificate of Good Moral Character,” in which he wrote, “Ida P. Hagan is well prepared and qualified to pass the examination for registered pharmacist. Her character is strictly moral in every respect.” Hagan received her Indiana pharmacy license on January 13, 1909, making her one of the first known-licensed Black female pharmacists in Indiana. She subsequently resigned from her role as deputy postmaster and worked in pharmacies in Indianapolis, Gary, and somewhere in Henry County (the exact city is unknown). Wollenmann’s support of Hagan underscores his own commitment to his community and its diverse people.

The good doctor may have saved many lives, but it was ultimately his own that he couldn’t save. While his health problems likely  started around 1906, when it was reported that “Dr. A. G. Wollenmann, who has been sick for several weeks, is on the road to recovery,” they likely escalated when he contracted tuberculosis in 1909, a virtual death sentence in early 20th century America (a vaccine wouldn’t be tested until 1921). As a medical professional, there’s a possibility that he contracted tuberculosis while attending to numerous patients.

Wollenmann’s overseas emigration record, Ancestry.com

As a reprieve from the effects of his illness, Dr. Wollenmann left for a three-month sabbatical to Europe in the summer of 1911, to visit his native country of Switzerland and see his sister, the Huntingburgh Argus reported. In his stead, he reappointed Ida P. Hagan as deputy postmaster to handle duties while he was gone. He returned home to Ferdinand in September, 1911.

Unfortunately, his condition deteriorated over the following months. Confined to a bed for the last three weeks of his life, “he was aware of the fact that he had not much longer to live and patiently awaited the hour that his Master would call him,” the Ferdinand News wrote. Despite all his medical knowledge, Dr. Alois Wollenmann died on June 20, 1912 at the age of 48, from complications of tuberculosis. As the Argus would write, “the dignified manner in which he consciously passed to the great beyond was a striking example.” His funeral was attended by numerous members of the Ferdinand and St. Meinrad communities, including colleagues, friends, and family. He was buried in St. Ferdinand Catholic Cemetery.

Ferdinand News, June 28, 1912, Newspapers.com

Upon Dr. Wollenmann’s death, Ida P. Hagan became Ferdinand’s acting postmaster on June 25, 1912, one of the first Black women in Indiana to hold this position. She held the position until she resigned in late August 1912, and Lula Kempf, a member of Wollenmann’s extended family was appointed temporary postmaster. Hagan’s resignation likely stemmed from her impending marriage to Alfred Roberts, her work as a pharmacist elsewhere, and her unlikely appointment to a full term. Joe Daunhaur, a civil service applicant, was appointed to a full term as postmaster on October 28, 1912.

Indianapolis Recorder, July 27, 1912, Hoosier State Chronicles

Wollenmann left his estate, which included his home, to his sons, Werner and Max. His son, Werner, took over the family business, later served as Ferdinand postmaster, and lived in the Swiss chalet home his father built. Max, also a physician, served as an US Army surgeon and lived in Pheonix, Arizona. The original location of the Eagle Pharmacy, where Dr. Wollenmann served countless citizens of the Ferdinand community, was torn down in 1982.

“No field of human activity offers so much variety, so much encouragement to reflection, comparison and independent action, as medical practice,” Alois Wollenmann wrote in his 1895 article, “About Insomnia in Children.” ‘Variety.’ ‘Independent action.’ ‘Encouragement to reflection.’ These phrases describe who Wollenmann was, not just as a physician but as a human being. In his time in Ferdinand, he was a doctor, postmaster, and local Republican party activist—quite a variety of roles. His independent action to appoint Ida Hagan as deputy postmaster took a level of fortitude that many lacked in his era. His wide array of medical knowledge no doubt came from years of quiet and deliberate reflection. In all of these traits, Dr. Alois Wollenman embodied a man dedicated to his craft and to his community, in ways still felt today.

Portrait of Alois Wollenmann, Ferdinand Historical Society

[i] In 1896, he was paid $13.25 by the county for his treatment of the poor; this expanded to $40 in 1899.

[ii] It is unclear if he actually recovered. A 1920 Census record lists a “Victor F. Grieve” who is around the right age, but it’s too little to be conclusive.

[iii] In July of 1907, Elizabeth Schumb failed to pick up a letter and Dr. Wollenman published a notice in the Ferdinand News encouraging it to be picked up before it was sent to the “dead letter office,” or department of undeliverable mail.

[iv] His house still stands, despite many years of uncertainty. In 2006, a request to rezone the area encompassing the Swiss chalet-style house potentially led to its demolition. Wollenmann’s granddaughters, who owned the property at the time and were initially reluctant to support the rezoning effort, finally decided to support rezoning so that the home could become a “bed and breakfast, suite of offices, or other income-generator,” the Jasper Herald reported. Despite sticking around, the home landed on the Historic Landmarks Foundation of Indiana’s ten most endangered list in 2007, as the rezoning could have opened it to demolition and many repairs needed to be completed. Finally, in 2014, a group of Ferdinand residents purchased the home from the Wollenmanns and transferred ownership to the Ferdinand Historical Society, who used grant funds to restore the home to its former glory. Another round of restoration got underway in 2020. The Wollenmann home finally fell into safe hands.

Freedom Seekers in Indiana: A Study in Newspapers

Despite its status as a free state in the federal union, Indiana maintained a complicated relationship with the institution of slavery. The Northwest Territory, incorporated in 1787, banned slavery under Article VI of the Articles of Compact. Nevertheless, enslaved people were allowed in the region well after lawmakers organized the Indiana Territory in 1800. As historians John D. Barnhart and Dorothy L. Riker noted, there were an estimated 15 people enslaved in and around Vincennes in 1800. This number only represented a fraction of the 135 slaves enumerated in the 1800 census. When Indiana joined the Union as a free state in 1816, pockets of slave-holding citizens remained well into the 1830s.

Underground Railroad Routes through Indiana and Michigan in 1848, from Wilbur Siebert’s book, The Underground Railroad from Slavery to Freedom. Internet Archive.

Fugitive slave laws, a core policy that before the Civil War, perpetuated the “dreaded institution.” The U.S. Congress passed its first fugitive slave law in 1793, which allowed for slave-owning persons to retrieve their human property in any state and territory in the union, even on free soil. Indiana, both as a territory and a state, passed legislation that ensured compliance with federal law. The controversial Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 exacerbated the problem, with many arrests, enslavements, and re-enslavements of African Americans in Indiana. Scholars estimate that 1,000-5,000 freedom seekers escaped bondage annually from 1830-1860, or roughly 135,000 before the Civil War.

Indiana’s revised Constitution from 1851. IARA.

Making matters more complicated, Indiana ratified a new constitution in 1851 that included Article XIII, which prohibited new settlement of African Americans into the state. Article XIII also encouraged colonization of African Americans already living in the state. The Indiana General Assembly even passed legislation creating a fund for the implementation of colonization in 1852. It stayed on the books until 1865. This, along with a litany of “black codes,” limited the civil rights of free African Americans and harsher penalties for African Americans seeking freedom. As historian Emma Lou Thornbrough observed, Indiana’s policies exhibited an “intense racial prejudice” and a fear of free, African American labor. One window into understanding complex history of fugitive slaves is by analyzing newspapers. Ads for runaways, fugitive slave narratives, and court case proceedings permeate Indiana’s historic newspapers. This blog will unearth some of the stories in Indiana newspapers that document the long and uneasy history of African American freedom seekers in the Hoosier state.

Indiana Gazette, September 18, 1804. Hoosier State Chronicles.

Runaway advertisements predominantly chronicled fugitive slavery in Indiana newspapers during the antebellum period. These ads would provide the slave’s name, age, a physical description, their last known whereabouts, and a reward from their owner. One of the earliest ads comes from the September 18, 1804 issue of the Indiana Gazette, while Indiana was still a territory. It described two slaves, Sam and Rebeccah, who had run away from their owner in New Bourbon, Louisiana. Sam was in his late twenties and apparently had burns on his feet. Rebeccah was a decade younger than Sam and “was born black, but has since turned white, except a few black spots.” This might have been a case of vitiligo, a skin pigment disorder. In any event, their owner offered a fifty dollar reward for “any person who will apprehend and bring back said negroes, or lodge them in any jail so that the owner may get them.”

Western Sun, December 9, 1807. Hoosier State Chronicles.

On December 9, 1807, the Western Sun ran a similar ad with a small, etched illustration of a runaway slave. Slaveholder John Taylor offered thirty dollars for the capture and return of three slaves (two men and one woman) who had taken two horses and some extra clothes. “Whoever secures the above negroes,” Taylor said, “shall have the above reward, and all reasonable charges if taken within the state; or ninety dollars, if out of the state . . . .”

Western Sun & General Advertiser, June 27, 1818. Hoosier State Chronicles.

These ads escalated after Indiana’s statehood in 1816, leading to expansions of the role of local officials. As Emma Lou Thornbrough noted, African Americans “were sometimes arrested and jailed on the suspicion that they were fugitives enough though no one had advertised them.” For example, the Western Sun & General Advertiser published a runaway ad on June 27, 1818 asking for the return of Archibald Murphey, a fugitive from Tennessee who had been captured in Posey County. Sheriff James Robb, and not Murphey’s supposed owner, took it upon himself to run an ad for the runaway’s return. “The owner is requested to come forward [,] pay charges, and take him away,” the ad demanded.

Western Sun & General Advertiser, October 26, 1822. Hoosier State Chronicles.

Owners understood the precarious nature of retrieving their slaves, so some resorted to long ad campaigns in multiple newspapers. A slave named Brister fled Barren County, Kentucky in 1822, likely carrying free papers and traveling north to Ohio. His owner offered a $100 reward for his return for at least three months in the Western Sun & General Advertiser. He had also advertised in the Cincinnati Inquisitor, Vincennes Inquirer, Brookville Enquirer, Vandalia Intelligencer, and Edwardsville Spectator.

Leavenworth Arena, July 9, 1840. Hoosier State Chronicles.

Other ads provided physical descriptions that indicated the toll of slavery on a human being. Two runaways, named Ben and Reuben, suffered from multiple ailments. Ben had his ears clipped “for robbing a boat on the Ohio river” while Reuben lived with a missing finger and a strained hip. Lewis, a fugitive from Limestone County, Alabama, had a “cut across one of his hands” that caused “one finger to be a little stiff.” They could also be rather graphic. The Leavenworth Arena posted an ad in its July 9, 1840 issue requesting the return of a slave named Smallwood, who scarred his ankles from a mishap with a riding horse; reportedly a “trace chain” wrapped around his legs, “tearing off the flesh.” The pain these men, among many others, endured from the years of their bondage was sadly treated as mere details in these advertisements.

Western Sun & General Advertiser. November 21, 1818. Hoosier State Chronicles.

While ads represented a substantial portion of newspaper coverage, articles and court proceedings also provided detail about the calamitous lives of fugitive slaves. First, court cases provide essential insight into the legal procedures regarding fugitive slaves before the Civil War. The Western Sun & General Advertiser published the court proceedings of one such case in its November 21, 1818 issue. John L. Chastian, a Kentucky slaveholder, claimed a woman named Susan as his slave and issued a warrant for her return. Corydon judge Benjamin Parke ruled in favor of Chastian on the grounds that Susan had not sufficiently demonstrated her claim to freedom and the motion for a continuance on this question was overruled. Even if Susan had been a free person, the legal system provided substantial benefits to the slaveholders, and since she could not demonstrate her freedom, she was therefore obligated to the claimant.

Richmond Palladium, September 30, 1843. Hoosier State Chronicles.

As for abolitionists, they faced court challenges as well. In 1843, Quaker Jonathan Swain stood before a grand jury in Union Circuit Court, “to testify in regard to harboring fugitive slaves, and assisting in their flight to Canada.” When asked to testify, Swain refused on grounds of conscience. The judge in the case granted him two days to reconsider his choice. When Swain returned, “he duly presented himself before the Judge, Bible under his arm, and declared his readiness to abide the decision and sentence of the Court.” The judge cited Swain in contempt and jailed him, “there to remain until he would affirm, or should be otherwise discharged.” This episode was one of many that demonstrated the intense religious and moral convictions of Quakers and their resistance to slavery.

Evansville Tri-Weekly Journal, October 7, 1847. Hoosier State Chronicles.

By contrast, many of those who sought slaves faced little challenge. The Evansville Tri-Weekly Journal reported that Thomas Hardy and John Smith, on trial in the Circuit Court of Gibson County for kidnapping, were acquitted of all charges. The judge’s ruling hinged only on a fugitive slave notice. This notice provided “sufficient authority for any person to arrest such fugitive and take him to his master.” As with the case involving Susan, the alleged slaves procured in this case received less legal protection than the two vigilantes that captured them. These trends continued well into the 1850s through the end of the Civil War.

Evansville Daily Journal, January 18, 1859. Hoosier State Chronicles.

Second, numerous articles and narratives concerning fugitive slaves and free persons claimed as fugitives were published during the antebellum period. The passage of the federal Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, of which Indiana kept its obligation to enforce, exacerbated coverage. Some articles were merely short notices, explaining that a certain number of alleged fugitive slaves were passing through a town or getting to a particular destination. The Evansville Daily Journal ran a brief description in 1859 about two men “who had the appearance of escaped slaves, came upon the Evansville road, last night, and passed on to Indianapolis.” It was also reported that they “had a white adviser with them on the cars,” supposedly a “conductor” on the Underground Railroad. In another piece, the Journal wrote uncharitably about a “stampede of slaves” that:

. . . left their master’s roofs, escaped to the Licking river where they lashed together several canoes, and in disguise they rowed down the Licking river to the Ohio and crossed, where they disembarked and made a circuitous route to the northern part of Cincinnati.

After their travel to Cincinnati, the twenty-three fugitives began their route to Canada via the Underground Railroad.

Evansville Daily Journal, June 19, 1854. Hoosier State Chronicles.

Articles covering the arrest of fugitive slaves also filled the headlines. As an example, the New Albany Daily Ledger ran a piece in 1853 about two fugitive slaves captured in the basement of local Theological Seminary. Jerry Warner, a local, arrested them both and received $250 in compensation for their capture. The Evansville Daily Journal reported of the arrest of three fugitive slaves in Vincennes who were on their way to freedom in Canada. Two men, one from Evansville and another from Henderson, Kentucky, pursued and captured the fugitives nearly eight miles outside of the city. The fugitives defended themselves against capture, with one of them brandishing a pistol who “snapped it twice at the officer, but it missed fire.” The officers then transferred the fugitives to Evansville, who were supposedly returned to Henderson.

Evansville Daily Journal, June 2, 1854. Hoosier State Chronicles.

Conductors of the Underground Railroad also faced arrest for the aid of fugitive slaves. Another article from the Evansville Journal chronicled the arrest of a man known simply as “Brown” who aided four female slaves to an Underground Railroad stop at Petersburgh, Indiana. A US Marshal and a local Sheriff “charge[d] on the ‘worthy conductor,’ and he surrendered.” The officers returned Brown to the Henderson jail for processing. It was later discovered that he received $200 from a free African American for his last job. The Journal described Brown as a “notorious abolitionist, and if guilty of the thieving philanthropy with which he is charged, deserved punishment.” Indiana’s free state status did not lessen the prejudice against African Americans and abolitionists; it only obscured it.

Evansville Daily Journal. April 13, 1858. Hoosier State Chronicles.

One of the more elaborate, yet challenging methods fugitive slaves used to seek freedom involved shipping boxes. The Evansville Daily Journal reported of a fugitive slave captured aboard the steamer Portsmouth, a shipping vessel traveling from Nashville to Cincinnati. He was in the box, “doubled up like a jack-knife,” for five days before authorities discovered him and took the appropriate actions. The ship docked at Covington, Kentucky and they “placed the negro in jail to await the requisition of his owner.” It was learned later that the fugitive slave had an agreement with a widow to move to Ohio on condition that he work for her for a year. “He had fulfilled his part of the contract,” the Journal wrote, “and she was performing her stipulations, and would have enabled him to escape had it not been for the unlucky accident.” This story was also covered in the Terre Haute Daily Union and similar stories ran in later issues of the Journal, the Nashville Daily Patriot, and the Richmond Palladium.

Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, August 16, 1855. Hoosier State Chronicles.

Sadly, the ultimate risk for a fugitive slave was death, and Indiana newspapers chronicled these events as well. The Crawfordsville Weekly Journal published an article on August 16, 1855 detailing the death of a fugitive slave by drowning. It appeared to the authorities that the fugitive, resting near Sugar Creek in Crawfordsville, was discovered by a group of men and questioned about his status. Under pressure, the fugitive leaped into the water and tried to flee, which spurred one man to shoot off his gun in an attempt to stop him. As the Journal wrote, “this alarmed the negro, and he plunged beneath the waters, and continued to rise and then dive, until exhausted, and he sank to rise no more until life was extinct.” His body was discovered a few days later. While some deemed his death a mere drowning, others thought it more “suspicious.” The Journal continued:

Putting the most favorable construction on the circumstances, there was a reckless trifling with human life which nothing can justify. He was doubtless a fugitive, but they knew it not, and had no right to arrest him or threaten his life. They knew of no crime of which he had been guilty, and only suspected him of an earnest longing after that freedom for which the human heart ever pants; and because he acted upon this feeling, so natural and so strong, they threaten to tie and imprison, and when struggling with overwhelming waters, he is threatened with being shot if he does not return ; and then when strength and life were fast failing, stretched not forth a helping hand to save him from immediate death.

If the facts as stated be true, (of which we have no doubt,) there is high criminality, of which the laws of our country should take cognizance; and when the news of the negroe’s [sic] death shall have reached his owner, he will doubtless prosecute those men; it may be for murder in the second degree, or at least for the value of the slave.

The Journal eloquently elucidated why the application of fugitive slave laws, especially by vigilante citizens, harmed the civil rights and lives of both free people and those still in servitude (of which there were a mere few).

Terre Haute Journal, September 2, 1853. Hoosier State Chronicles.

Free African Americans additionally faced threats to their lives and livelihood from the enforcement of fugitive slave laws. A well-known instance in Indiana regarded the arrest and release of John Freeman. Arrested and jailed on June 21, 1853, Freeman faced a charge from Pleasant Ellington of Missouri that he was one of his slaves. Freeman hired a legal team and after a lengthy trial that testified to his status as a free-born African American, he was released on August 27, 1853. It turned out that Ellington misidentified Freeman as a slave named Sam, who fled from servitude in Greenup County, Kentucky and likely escaped to Canada. Due to the diminution of his character, Freeman sued Ellington in civil court for 10,000; it was later ruled in favor of Freeman and he received $2,000 and additional unnamed damages. What Freeman experienced is but a snapshot into how fugitive slave laws harmed the rights of free people as well as slaves.

Indiana State Guard, June 8, 1861. Hoosier State Chronicles.

After the Civil War began, fugitive slaves continued to elicit concern, and coverage, in Indiana newspapers. In the spring of 1861, the Sentinel reprinted a piece from the Jeffersonville Democrat about the rise of fugitive slaves traveling through the Ohio River region: “the number of fugitive slaves caught on the Indiana side of the river, and returned to Kentucky within the past three months, is greater than that of any like period during the past ten years.” Kentucky’s government still offered a reward of $150 for each returned slave. That summer, the Indiana State Guard published President Abraham Lincoln’s thoughts on the issue. Lincoln, in a manner characteristic of his own political calculus, declared that Union soldiers were not “obliged to leave their legitimate military business to pursue and return fugitive slaves” but also cautioned that “the army is under no obligation to protect them, and will not encourage nor interfere with them in their flight.” The new President offered a nuanced position that possibly placated the Border States while satisfying the abolitionist wing of his own party. Realistically, it was a long way away from the Emancipation Proclamation.

Greencastle Banner, December 23, 1865. Hoosier State Chronicles.

The end of the Civil War brought the end of slavery as a federally-protected policy, and thus eliminated the need for fugitive slave laws. Their end brought a larger fulfillment of the Declaration of Independence’s commitment to the proposition that “all men are created equal.” Yet, the history of fugitive slaves often fell into tales of folklore and hyperbole. Looking at a primary source like newspapers helps to dispel many of the myths and provides nuance to the controversial subject of human enslavement in the United States. These stories represent a small fraction of the larger narrative about American slavery. To learn more, visit the Library of Congress’ page about fugitive slave ads in historical newspapers: https://www.loc.gov/rr/news/topics/fugitiveAds.html. You can also search Hoosier State Chronicles for more fugitive slave ads and articles.

Other Resources

Indiana Historical Bureau: Slavery in Indiana Territory

Indiana Historical Bureau: Indiana and Fugitive Slave Laws

Indiana Historical Bureau: The Underground Railroad