Postcards From An Ugly Period

Remembering Lynchings

May 17, 2000|By Clarence Page.

NEW YORK CITY — Beneath our thin veneer of civility, an unspeakable barbarism bubbles, waiting to burst like lava through the surface of our sensibilities.

Such are the thoughts that crossed my mind as I gazed, tight-lipped and solemnly, at a most unusual photo exhibit at the New York Historical Society.

It is an exhibition of American lynchings.

More than 3,000 such lynchings occurred, mostly during an epidemic that ran from 1890 to 1930. Most of the lynchings took place in the South, although other states--Ohio, Indiana, California and Pennsylvania--also stand out.

Most of the victims were black. Some actually were guilty of crimes, as if that mattered. Mobs do not wait for evidence to get in the way of a good lynching.

Bernie Simmons, for example, is photographed from below, hanging from the limb of a cottonwood tree in Anadarko Okla., hands tied behind his back and his body soaked in oil before he was set afire. He is not quite dead, according to a local newspaper account.

"The Negro prayed and shrieked in agony as the flames reached his flesh," the newspaper reported, "but his cries were drowned out by yells and jeers of the mob."

"The mob" is what is most striking about these pictures. The mobs look like remarkably solid citizens. One can see faces quite plainly. No Ku Klux Klan masks here. Women and children were included, even encouraged, to attend. Lynchings were big community events as thrilling for participants as a carnival, a street fair or a church picnic.

And the celebration was followed by commemoration. Most of these pictures are preserved on postcards, which often were sold door-to-door and sent to friends and relatives. "This is the barbecue we had last night," reads one message on the back of a photo of a burned body.

Times and attitudes changed. In 1908, the postmaster general forbade sending such cards through the mail. Most of them were destroyed or tucked away in the back of drawers and such.

Then 15 years ago, James Allen, a self-described "picker," ("I search out items that some people don't want and sell them to others who do.") came across a picture postcard of the 1915 lynching of Leo Frank, a Jewish businessman in Marietta, Ga.

Frank was falsely accused, evidence would later show, of killing Mary Phagan. His highly publicized tragedy led to the formation of the Anti-Defamation League.

"Emotionally, that first card was really stunning," Allen, 45, told me in a telephone interview. "What stuck with me the most was the absolute indifference of the white men who were sort of ambling around the corpse, as if he was less than human. I couldn't get it off my mind."

One postcard led to dozens more. Allen, who is white, decided to make it more difficult for Americans to forget this shameful side of American history. His collection, on loan to Emory University, is scheduled to remain on display at the New York Historical Society until at least July 9. There is talk of a national tour, perhaps with additional photos gathered by Emory. Some of the photos and postcards also have been collected in a book with the same title as the exhibition, "Without Sanctuary: Lynching Photography in America."

Although hundreds of visitors have flowed through the gallery each week, not everyone is delighted with the exhibit. At least one African-American gallery in New York turned it down, a historical society spokesman said. As an African-American, whose parents remembered but were reluctant to talk about lynchings, I am not surprised. The memory is painful for many on both sides of the color line.

Yet, it must not be forgotten. "These pictures have woken me up to the power of thoughts and belief systems," Allen said. "As the 20th Century went on, the lynchings became fewer in number, but more brutal and savage in their nature. There was more torture, more of an effort to keep the body alive longer."

"Spend time with these photos and you can see how slavery evolved into lynchings and a penal system stacked against blacks," said Allen. "I can't help but believe that we're doing some of the same things today, that the lynching has not entirely gone away."

Maybe not. These postcards and photos from our past deliver an important, although painful, message as we face a new century. It is not a message that calls for anger, resentment or payback, although those emotions are bound to run through many observers' minds. It is a message that offers a warning of the horrors we can commit, even in a seemingly civilized society, when our worst nature gets the best of us. Our capacity to lynch never goes away, no matter what color we are.