“One Episode in our Tragic History”
by Bob Ray Sanders, Fort Worth Star Telegram, April 20, 2005
The country scene on a picture postcard is unlike any you can imagine.
Five black men are hanging by their necks from the branches of a tree. The photograph's caption states simply “Scene in Sabine County, Texas, June 15, 1908.” A mob had taken the men from the Hemphill jail at night and lynched them. They were among nine black men “executed” within two weeks after two white men were killed in the area, according to newspaper accounts.
Also on the card is a poem declaring “White Supremacy.” The cards were produced by an area drugstore and mailed to people all over the country. Peggy Womack's grandfather, who was raised in that part of southeast Texas, received the card from a friend just a few weeks after the lynching. Her grandfather was living in the West Texas town of Coleman at the time. Womack, 78, of Fort Worth, was only 10 or 11 when her mother gave her the postcard. She gave it to me a few weeks ago, thinking it might have some historical value.
Indeed, it does. It reminds us of a time in Texas and American history when hatred consumed communities and people proudly did heinous things to fellow human beings.
The appalling photo was circulated for years, a badge of honor for those who participated or a sheer oddity to be gawked at by others. Most people who saw the cards never knew the names of the five men and had no idea what they might have been accused of or if any of them -- much less all of them -- was guilty of any crime.
The truth is, we'll never know whether any of the nine black men killed was guilty of anything except being black in southeast Texas. We do know that 90 years later, a black man in the same part of Texas was tied to the back of a pickup and dragged to death. We know that the only reason James Byrd died horribly was because of his race. Lynchings are not a thing of the past in America.
A bill introduced in the U.S. Senate this year would apologize “to the victims of lynching and the descendants of those victims for the failure of the Senate to enact anti-lynching legislation” states that “at least 4,742 people, mostly African-Americans, were reported lynched in the United States between 1882 and 1968.”
The Sabine County crime is one episode in that tragic history for which this nation ought to be ashamed.
As soon as Womack showed me the card, I wanted to know about the five men who were snatched from their families, arrested, accused of conspiracy in a murder and never given anything close to judicial due process.
We should at least put names to those bodies, and we should remember them as clearly as we remember the name James Byrd. Although I have not learned all I would like to know, with the help of my colleagues in the Star-Telegram library, I think we know the names of at least four of the men hanged and the names of two others killed during the Sabine County purge. The research also allowed me to see how widespread the infestation of bigotry was in Texas. And it gives great insight into how my profession of journalism was both acquiescent and in some ways apologetic for those who committed such heinous acts.
The details of that night are still chilling and would be unbelievable -- except we know it happened and, sadly, it was not unusual.
On June 23, 1908, both The Fort Worth Telegram and The Dallas Morning News carried articles from Hemphill. They report that six men were taken from the jail early in the morning. But the articles go on to list only five names, and report that one of the five was shot trying to escape.
Under the headline "MOB HANGS FIVE AND SHOOTS ANOTHER," this newspaper reported from Hemphill:
Five black men are hanging by their necks from the branches of a tree. The photograph's caption states simply “Scene in Sabine County, Texas, June 15, 1908.” A mob had taken the men from the Hemphill jail at night and lynched them. They were among nine black men “executed” within two weeks after two white men were killed in the area, according to newspaper accounts.
Also on the card is a poem declaring “White Supremacy.” The cards were produced by an area drugstore and mailed to people all over the country. Peggy Womack's grandfather, who was raised in that part of southeast Texas, received the card from a friend just a few weeks after the lynching. Her grandfather was living in the West Texas town of Coleman at the time. Womack, 78, of Fort Worth, was only 10 or 11 when her mother gave her the postcard. She gave it to me a few weeks ago, thinking it might have some historical value.
Indeed, it does. It reminds us of a time in Texas and American history when hatred consumed communities and people proudly did heinous things to fellow human beings.
The appalling photo was circulated for years, a badge of honor for those who participated or a sheer oddity to be gawked at by others. Most people who saw the cards never knew the names of the five men and had no idea what they might have been accused of or if any of them -- much less all of them -- was guilty of any crime.
The truth is, we'll never know whether any of the nine black men killed was guilty of anything except being black in southeast Texas. We do know that 90 years later, a black man in the same part of Texas was tied to the back of a pickup and dragged to death. We know that the only reason James Byrd died horribly was because of his race. Lynchings are not a thing of the past in America.
A bill introduced in the U.S. Senate this year would apologize “to the victims of lynching and the descendants of those victims for the failure of the Senate to enact anti-lynching legislation” states that “at least 4,742 people, mostly African-Americans, were reported lynched in the United States between 1882 and 1968.”
The Sabine County crime is one episode in that tragic history for which this nation ought to be ashamed.
As soon as Womack showed me the card, I wanted to know about the five men who were snatched from their families, arrested, accused of conspiracy in a murder and never given anything close to judicial due process.
We should at least put names to those bodies, and we should remember them as clearly as we remember the name James Byrd. Although I have not learned all I would like to know, with the help of my colleagues in the Star-Telegram library, I think we know the names of at least four of the men hanged and the names of two others killed during the Sabine County purge. The research also allowed me to see how widespread the infestation of bigotry was in Texas. And it gives great insight into how my profession of journalism was both acquiescent and in some ways apologetic for those who committed such heinous acts.
The details of that night are still chilling and would be unbelievable -- except we know it happened and, sadly, it was not unusual.
On June 23, 1908, both The Fort Worth Telegram and The Dallas Morning News carried articles from Hemphill. They report that six men were taken from the jail early in the morning. But the articles go on to list only five names, and report that one of the five was shot trying to escape.
Under the headline "MOB HANGS FIVE AND SHOOTS ANOTHER," this newspaper reported from Hemphill:
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“Five negroes, all hanged to one tree, was the spectacle that met the gaze of hundreds of spectators on the Hemphill and Bronson road yesterday about one mile from the court house.
They were taken from the Hemphill jail by a determined mob of about 200 men. Six of them in all were taken out, and they were the negroes charged with the murder of Hugh Dean, which occurred at Rockhill church, near Geneva, two weeks ago Saturday night. One of the negroes taken by the mob tried to escape and was shot. The six negroes taken from the jail last night were: Jerry Evans, aged about 28; Will Johnson, about 20 years; Moss Spellman, about 22 years; Clevel Williams, about 20 years and Will Manuel, 30 years." |
Another article reports that Williams was the man shot trying to escape.
The papers also reported that “‘Rabbit’ Bill McCoy, a negro about 40 years old, was killed last night in front of the home of Arie Johnson.” Johnson was the other white man killed in the area.
The papers also reported that “‘Rabbit’ Bill McCoy, a negro about 40 years old, was killed last night in front of the home of Arie Johnson.” Johnson was the other white man killed in the area.