8
Cosmopolites
The walls of such a [reading] room might be adorned with the photographs of the champions of freedom, on whose achievements our ministers of religion and teachers would be pleased to lecture for the benefit of their kindred.
San Francisco Elevator, August 18, 1865
The Committee should make extensive arrangements for a large procession-employ musicians, procure cars, banners, chariots, and all the necessary paraphernalia to give eclat to the occasion.
San Francisco Elevator, February 25, 1870
Whites' images of Blacks in newspapers, reminiscences, and history books often contrast with Blacks' images of themselves. Sometimes favorable, frequently paternalistic, whites' descriptions focused on colorful idiosyncracies. Unlike their southern counterparts, San Francisco's Negroes were rarely accused of being stupid, vicious, and beast-like.[1] Rather, the pioneers were frequently portrayed as one group among many that, because of complexion or stylish dress, gave the city a colorful and cosmopolitan character. Soulé's Annals noted "single dandy black fellows, . . . who strutted as only the negro can strut, in holiday clothes" among other pedestrians in Portsmouth Square. The Negro coachman of a Nob Hill millionaire impressed a San Francisco belle with his "suit of white cloth with black velvet buttons as large as butter-dishes, and orange-topped boots." On Morton Street, lined with brothels, "women of every race and hue, white, yellow and black, hung from window-ledges, in various stages of undress," waiting to snatch men's hats, daring them to enter and retrieve them. The fame and nickname of "Uncle Sam," a Black San Franciscan popular among the city's children, derived from his red, white, and blue
suit. He sang, sold candy to children, and threatened to "punish bad" youngsters with a long whip; he could be found on the city's boulevards in the late nineteenth century.[2]
Non-Black travelers and reporters rarely discussed Afro-Americans in detail. They were content to note their presence, describe their clothing or function, and move on to other subjects. In the 1850s an observer, commenting on the carriage of a notorious New Orleans murderer, mentioned that he was "drawn by two magnificent black horses with a Negro groom in livery in the smart rear 'tiger' seat." Similarly, in describing the popular entertainment area on Market near Fourth Street in the late nineteenth century, Evelyn Wells found "negro minstrels sitting on [the] . . . wagon bed" of Pawnee Bill, the Wild West showman.[3] Blacks were noted in other characteristically "Black" jobs, often lending humor to a scene. "Two burly Negroes" labored before a large audience at an auction in 1895 where unclaimed articles of baggage were sold. "No matter what the size, style, or description of the package being shown, the two porters invariably groaned and grunted when it was being lifted from the floor to the bench. . . . After the article was sold one of the porters would take it in his left hand and carelessly toss it ten or fifteen feet, where it fell lightly as a feather."[4]
But aside from their dress or function, Blacks were rarely recognized as individuals or as important actors in city life. There were some exceptions: Mary Ellen "Mammy" Pleasant was particularly well-known because of her reputation for power and intrigue; Major Waters, a leader of East Bay parades, and "Deacon Jones," a bodyguard, also won distinction; "Muffin Tom," an old man who came to work in the Palace Hotel kitchen in 1875, was singled out from the Black workers as one "the fame of whose eggmuffins and corn-bread has made him the aristocrat of his race for the last half-century from Charleston to Long Beach"; and "Blind Bob" Jackson, a former jockey, was "known to thousands of San Franciscans during more than a quarter of a century."[5]
Some variations occurred in the images of Blacks, reflecting variety among Negroes as well as degrees of racism among observers. Occasionally reporters were quite complimentary, lacking the Negrophobia characteristic of many southern journalists. One late nineteenth-century reporter revealed an uncommon eye for feminine beauty when he noted "several shapely Afro-American young ladies [who] rode to the [Midwinter] Fair grounds on their bicycles . . . jauntily attired in knickerbocker costumes." The procession that took over the grounds on Colored American Day was described, surprisingly favorably, as "a composite picture of dignity, grace, and color as it moved around the court of honor."[6]
Other descriptions reveal the paternalism underlying the racism of even
well-intentioned whites. While "Uncle Jerry" Peterson of the Palace Hotel was heralded as "in a sense, a veritable aristocrat of his race and condition," the title "Uncle" evidenced both familiarity and condescension. When he died in 1902, a newspaper obituary identified him as a Negro—"as the affectionately familiar title might indicate." Jerry Peterson had stayed on at the Palace "solely because of his popularity with the guests" after white workers replaced Negroes. He was described as a "cheerful, courteous, soft-speaking, darky," as "discreet, ever courteous, kindly, obliging, and in every sense of the term a gentleman." These were ideal qualities for a servant, although the modern reader might wonder what went on in the mind of a man who was privileged to view what one scholar referred to as "the seamy intimacies of high life." Peterson's death notice leads to the conclusion that he was a victim of an American apartheid, even in death; his obituary ended with the happy speculation that he had gone "where all good darkies go."[7]
Black San Franciscans were denigrated in such other ways as daily minstrel shows. San Franciscans could not get enough of the nineteenth century's most popular entertainment. In 1862 a Black resident complained about the "Jim Crow Exhibitions and Negro Extravaganzas" that occurred nightly in the Bay city. "Pernicious men" staged these exhibitions "at the expense of the poverty and ignorance of an oppressed, long-outraged and downtrodden people." "Ridiculously highly exaggerated similitudes" performed by white men were bad enough, but the entertainments "assumed a new phase" in San Francisco (and in the nation) in the Civil War era. "Men, naturally black, . . . have been induced, through ignorance, lack of principle, or sheer cupidity, to be a party in representing by public entertainment, their own degradation and that of their unfortunate race." James Madison Bell, a poet and plasterer, wrote: "This, Mr. Editor, is by far 'the unkindest cut of all.'" Another Black citizen, commenting on a Negro-performed minstrel show held in the former St. Cyprian Church building in 1859, noted: "Truly we have an uphill road in endeavoring to elevate some of our people to a commonsense standard."[8] In the early twentieth century Blacks were confronted with Thomas Dixon's novel The Clansman and D. W. Griffith's technically innovative film adaptation of it, Birth of a Nation . The problem was compounded by Afro-American participation. For example, Bert Williams and George Walker disliked using blackface and minstrel stereotypes when they started in San Francisco in the 1890s, but at that time it was the only form of entertainment that was popular, acceptable to whites, and lucrative.[9]
Racist stereotypes were also featured in both white and Black newspapers. A cartoon that appeared in the World War I era illustrates the legacy of minstrelsy. "Kelly Pool—Winners and Losers" depicts a pool-
room scene in which the winner counts his take while his cronies make excuses for losing, and one hanger-on contemplates getting a loan from the winner. A Negro in a white coat cleans the pool table and amiably chatters to the winner. None of the cartoon characters are nobly portrayed; but while the white men are clearly individuals, the Negro looks and talks like a man in blackface.[10]
A cartoon that appeared in the Black Pacific Coast Appeal in 1904 shows a Negro laundry woman explaining that she borrowed her mistress's fine clothes to attend a cakewalk. She speaks in what passed for Negro dialect and is depicted stereotypically, while the mistress appears to be a refined upper-class society lady. In 1915, the San Francisco Western Outlook carried a cartoon of a well-dressed Black couple, both very dark with full lips. The caption read:
She—Go on, niggah, I doan want none ob yo' lip.
He—It's plainly obvious, mam, dat you doan need none ob it.[11]
The turn-of-the-century Black newspapers got as much as half of their material from a syndicate, so they sometimes appear to be no different from any white newspaper. This perhaps accounts for the degrading material, although it remains ironic and tragic to see these cartoons in journals that regarded themselves as instruments of race elevation. This was the dilemma for Afro-Americans: they sought acceptance from a society convinced of white superiority.
Culture-conscious Blacks, sensitive to their appearance as evidence of quality, joined societies and clubs to acquire social skills and poise. They believed that images of refined Negroes could counter the stereotypes, so positive images were invariably featured in Black-written newspaper articles, in dances and processions, and in obituaries. Flattering images of the urbanites were also projected in photographs. The pioneers preferred to see themselves as refined cosmopolitans whose lives were a constant program of balls, parades, festivities, celebrations, concerts, fairs, and exhibitions. These images present to us the Afro-Americans as they wished to be seen and remembered. San Francisco's cosmopolitan character encouraged the pioneers to project themselves in certain ways. Costumes and stylish fashions distinguished them from anonymous residents, and imparted an identity that contrasted pleasingly with their humble origins. The city's many nationalities and ethnic groups, and its tradition of anti-Negro prejudice, only increased the need to be readily identifiable as a cultured citizen of the metropolis.
Before eastern cities attracted large numbers of foreign-born migrants, San Francisco housed "a population more mixed than one finds anywhere else in America, for Frenchmen, Italians, Portuguese, Greeks, and the
children of Australian convicts abound there side by side with Germans, negroes, and Irish."[12] This variety fascinated residents and visitors, but it also posed a problem: What form of behavior should serve as the model for the many different city dwellers? Fashions in dress and recreation answered the question.
When roller skating appeared in San Francisco it was popular among Blacks, suggesting the degree to which they were stimulated by urban fads. There is no evidence that Blacks participated in the first wave of rink skating in 1866, but when the fad returned in the early 1870s, they showed familiarity with and accomplishment in that form of entertainment. In the late summer of 1871, a group of Black San Franciscans, including William H. Blake and James B. Wilson, managed the First Grand Masquerade Skating Carnival of the New Pavilion Skating Club in Platt's Hall. The event was eagerly anticipated: "All the elite had been on the qui vive for some time past, and all desired for it a success."[13]
The day-long affair consisted of a number of scheduled events. "A grand operatic overture" by the orchestra opened the carnival. The leisured urbanites, masked and dressed as "Sailor Boy," "Red Riding Hood," a "French Cook," a "Chinese Mandarin," and the like, skated in a Grand March. An hour later they competed for prizes. After an exhibition by an accomplished rink performer, the best skaters displayed their poise and skill by executing a Grand Quadrille. Upon receiving prizes and unmasking, they put on their street shoes and danced through a program of quadrilles, waltzes, a polka, and mazourka until nearly four in the afternoon.[14] The day's events indicated mastery of skating, and the masquerade demonstrated a measure of refinement. It was a serious occasion; only those who practiced at the New Pavilion Club could compete in the "Grand March and all the Fancy Skating," and, to prevent claims of unfair judging, the managers obtained officials who were "entire strangers to the participants."[15]
Life in San Francisco was itself a charade, for appearances counted as much as origins. While roller skating, pioneers could exhibit their skill; and masks and costumes allowed them to perform, to conceal, and to reveal as they wished. The well-dressed Negroes around Portsmouth Square were like the masqueraders. Because appearances and wealth were the mark of quality, dress, style, and manners were of prime importance. San Francisco was full of newcomers and strangers who often sustained sudden changes of fortune and who wished to exaggerate their importance and obscure humble backgrounds.
San Francisco must have particularly appealed to Blacks, for there many races mingled, and the low-born won distinction. But a Black readily identifiable as such suffered reduced opportunities and, sometimes,
exclusion from a Bay Area residency. So when Blacks dressed in fashion, or demonstrated dancing or skating skills, they enhanced their urban identity. Acceptance of them occurred in spite of race prejudice. This was proof of an equalitarian, or at least non-racial, strain in San Francisco society, and bolstered Blacks' faith in it.
"Passing" as non-Black was another way to dodge racism. Colored city dwellers often emphasized the variety of their racial strains to challenge the argument that, as Africans, they belonged to an inferior race. Occasionally Black biographers gave European and Indian (as well as African) ancestry to their subjects.[16]
Philip A. Bell, aware of the absurdity and injustice of the American race system, emphasized multiple racial strains. Tall, gaunt, and light-complected, Bell was particularly sensitive to this matter. Possibly because he differed from the popular image of the Negro, he often noted Blacks' complex racial make-up. He described himself as possessing eyes, skin, and hair of a "dull yellow" hue. In an editorial on prejudice, he wrote, "The colored people of the North are more of European than African lineage," and maintained that "probably some eight or ten generations back a remote ancestor on one side may have come from Africa, but the majority are as much European descent as the White American."[17] Although he probably exaggerated the remoteness of the African strain, there was some substance to Bell's point of view, for contemporary photographs clearly show the mixed racial origins of pioneers.
Many observers noticed that Negro San Franciscans ranged in color from nearly black to the lightest shades found among humans. Samuel Clemens commented on this in 1863, and a decade later a visitor to the San Francisco colored school remarked that the students' "natural complexions, and the texture of that which adorns their throne of reason—all, all represented the would-be Anglo-Saxon race."[18]
"White" Negroes could never be certain when they would be recognized, embarrassed, and even worse, denied employment or social advantages. They emphasized the American and San Franciscan aspects of their identity, concealing their Afro-American background when it would disadvantage them. Sometimes it was only necessary to apply for a position with the confidence and directness of a white person, while on other occasions Negroes simply assumed that acquaintances and employers knew they were Black.[19]
In San Francisco and Oakland, as in many large cities, it was easy for a Negro to confuse residents. Dress, deportment, and physical appearance were important, for racism often depends on visual perception. Afro-Americans were not always readily identifiable, especially when they did not resemble minstrel figures. Even Chinese might be confused for
Negroes. In the 1850s a writer claimed that Chinese women resembled Black women: Although the Chinese had complexions "in some instances approaching to fair, their whole physiognomy indicates but a slight removal from the African race." A few years later, the Elevator reminded readers of the absurdities of American racism by reprinting an account of how a Black woman passed as Spanish. "If a person of African descent, being passably light, can only mutter some foreign language as Spanish, French, Portuguese, etc., they can enjoy American hospitalities." Ironically, "the more perfect their English tongue and manners , the more certain they are of being treated with American barbarity." Most city dwellers were used to variations among Europeans, but the nuances among people of color were unfamiliar. An early twentieth-century portrait of city life claimed that the city's populace included the dark-skinned Italians, Mexicans, Peruvians, Pacific Islanders, and "others in whose embrowned and bearded visages it was impossible to recognize any especial nationality."[20]
Black pioneers took advantage of this by cultivating a foreign accent, giving an Italian or Portuguese name for employment purposes, and affecting foreign manners. A Spanish, American Indian, or Hawaiian identity led to greater freedom in the city. Black folk relied upon cultural and linguistic differences among Blacks, learned a foreign language, and depended upon American ignorance, thus compounding the problem of identification. This created confusion both for racists and for innocent residents, while it allowed a measure of latitude for Negroes. In 1862, shortly before California permitted Negroes to testify in cases where whites were accused, a remarkable incident showed how far whites might go to identify Blacks. The conviction of the white murderer of George W. Gordon, a prosperous Black barber, hinged on the testimony of a light-skinned Negro. To determine the man's race, the judge called in two "hairologists," southerners who claimed they could identify an Afro-American from his hair and nails. After performing their examination, they concluded that the witness for the prosecution was one-eighth Negro, making his testimony inadmissible.[21]
Although race sometimes caused problems and inconveniences, most San Franciscans did not usually scrutinize others so closely, so that Blacks who wished only to blend in and be left alone delighted in the freedom. As at masquerades and costume balls, citizens assumed new identities for a variety of reasons. Policemen blackened their faces and hands, imitating Negroes in order to enter and raid illegal gambling houses. Negro entertainers impersonated Hawaiians or West Africans when a production required it, refining the chameleon-like quality that was so convenient off as well as on the stage.[22]
Passing aside, the Afro-San Franciscans envisioned themselves as pioneers, adventurers, cosmopolitans, sightseers, workers, prosperous city dwellers, revelers, denizens of the sporting world, and so forth; they had both an urban and an ethnic identity. This duality is similar to that described by William E. B. Du Bois, who singled out a national (American) and an ethnic (Black) identity. But in 1903, when his Souls of Black Folk appeared, the emphasis was rural and southern, and many people overlooked Blacks' American traditions, stressing instead their "backwardness" or, at best, their quaint ethnicity. Du Bois had to underline the Black national character to remind both races of what they shared.[23]
The Bay Area welded different city dwellers into a cosmopolitan group despite, and partly because of, their varied origins. In 1852, William H. Hall married in New York City after returning "flush" from a California sojourn. "The splendor of the occasion was, perhaps, without a parallel in 'the history of colored society in New York'"; its magnificence mirrored the standards of both the old east coast metropolis and the new Pacific slope city.[24] In the winter of 1860, a San Francisco banquet was also favorably compared to New York affairs. Hosted by the wife of "one of our prince barbers," the event was described in an understated manner: "As you are aware of the doings in Fifth Avenue on such an occasion, I need only convey your ideas to that locality, for a favorable comparison, without encumbering your columns with the details of this most splendid affair."[25] Black folk also staged ceremonies that matched those of sophisticated white San Franciscans. When Wellington C. Patrick, a barber, married Mrs. Sarah Anderson in 1867, a crowd gathered outside the event. Strains of operatic music played by the Black Pacific Brass Band held the curious and attracted other passersby. "The whole arrangement was displayed with such grand simplicity and dignity, that the doubt was created as to whether there are colored persons among us that could be so refined." Brief glimpses of Negroes in "black broadcloths, white vests, silks, satins, etc." were visible when the door was opened.[26]
Social events were held frequently, so that different clubs and cliques could compete. The Blacks on the Palace Hotel crew were swept up in a whirl of social events shortly after their arrival in the city late in 1875. E. T. Lewis said that "during the short time we have been in your city, it has been a continued 'go' with us from one place of entertainment to another; and so abundantly have we partaken of the hospitality of your residents that we feel obligated to you for the many social favors." A few months later, another hotel worker testified to the number of social entertainments, although in a critical tone. Since their arrival, hardly a day had passed without "some catch-penny entertainment held by those claiming to be the elite of colored society in this city; indeed, the truth is, they have been so
frequent that the greater portion of us have long since looked upon them as little less than a nuisance."[27]
The numerous events permitted Blacks to assume refined, idealized roles. Women enjoyed opportunities to plan elaborate programs and to vie with one another for acclaim as "the belle of the ball and queen of the evening." The newspapers carried picturesque descriptions of their elaborate dress and compared their jewels and stunning gowns. Reports of celebrants in the 1870s mentioned "the longest court train in the hall," a "cherry colored tarlatan trimmed with white lace," and "the Masonic jewels of her late father, . . . consisting of the Rite of Memphis, KADOSH, or the Star of Sirius, and the Rose Cross on beautiful purple silk trimmed with mauve." Hair was decorated "a la Francaise " or "a la Pompadour ," and other styles were similarly described: women were "tastefully attired in a rose-colored moire antique , with spangle illusion overskirt, en train ," or were "in pink tarlatan, and train a la Anglais ." Citizens discussed these events and contested the decisions of judges or reporters on the bestdressed women.[28]
Such programs continued well into the twentieth century. In 1915, the San Francisco Women's Club sponsored a cosmopolitan, though not lavish, program, at the home of a member at 1962 Pacific Street. A "Japanese social" was featured, in addition to a "carefully prepared paper on 'women.'" Prizes were awarded for the best Japanese costume. After World War I, the Cosmos Whist Club changed its name to the Cosmos Social Club, elevating the tone of its social life. After an elaborate dinner and ball in 1922, the California Voice claimed the club had "set a precedent toward the uplift of the morale and standards of our western civilization. . . . The whole affair was perfect and that tone of refinement permeated the air."[29]
In a city of strangers jockeying for social status, a refined demeanor opened doors and made possible contacts and friendships. For ex-slaves or their descendants, a refined, urbane life style symbolized the heights an Afro-American could attain, thus proving the equality of Black folk. This refinement has since been repudiated as pretense, but Negro urbanites of San Francisco had little trouble identifying with the most aristocratic citizens of American and European metropolises. Leading Black scholars, notably W. E. B. Du Bois, James Weldon Johnson, and Alain Locke, and Black heroes from Frederick Douglass to Jack Johnson, emulated these ideals.
Elite social affairs permitted image-conscious Afro-Americans to equal more privileged citizens. The California Voice was serious when it claimed the Cosmos Social Club affair uplifted "our western civilization." Other citizens would view the Black guardians of culture as equals as a
result of their refined events. Initially the Cosmos Club probably did not regard itself as a means for social elevation, but when members refined the group's activities, the club became "a necessary medium, through which a higher status for its members—the communities in which they live, and the pursuits in which they engage,—may be reached." These new heights offered proof positive (in the cloyed language of the time) "that 'Souls as Pure,' and 'Hearts as True' are to be found in human beings [regardless of color]."[30]
Naturally, the refined Afro-San Franciscans believed it necessary to separate the respectable from the rabble, and resented the fact that all Afro-Americans were lumped together in the popular imagination. Like whites of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, they viewed class divisions as necessary and desirable, and found loathsome "the conglomeration of vice and virtue, reputable and disreputable characters" at social events. In 1890 the Sentinel argued that "some sort" of distinction was necessary at their affairs. "Disreputable characters . . . and strangers with nothing to recommend them, and without references," should be excluded in order to protect "mothers, wives, and sisters of our little community."[31]
Moreover, a respectable demeanor, not color, should be the sole basis for admission to public facilities; Blacks resented the color barriers that prevented even clearly proper and refined citizens from participating in urban life as they desired. When "two of our most respectable females" were ejected from a city railway car in 1863, the Pacific Appeal argued that there had been no valid reason to refuse service. The other passengers did not object to the women's presence, evidently believing that their "appearance indicated propriety and respectability," so the employee's action was particularly reprehensible. The same position was frequently taken by Black newspapers and citizens.[32] Racist whites tended to make all Afro-Americans their victims, but Blacks still attempted to distinguish themselves in dress and manner, clinging to the belief that genteel behavior, proper manners, and a refined appearance increased their chances of acceptance.
The concern with appearances resulted from the nature of San Francisco. In a city of anonymous souls, new clothes and manners made for a new identity. When two Jamaicans arrived from the West Indies dressed in the latest Caribbean fashions, they immediately sought out another West Indian; the latter advised them to purchase new suits so that they would not look ridiculous. John A. Somerville termed learning to dress in "proper attire" "our first lesson" in American life. It was also their first lesson in urban living.[33]
Masonic dress and band uniforms gave urbanites a special identity, as well as fraternity with fellow members and admiration from others.
Anonymous residents paid particular attention to the styles, appearances, and exploits of the city's heroes; this helped some lose sight of their own humble status. A military, Masonic, or band uniform, or a stylish suit of clothes, made identification easier and enabled residents to distinguish the city's heroes—successful veterans of battlefield and counting house campaigns—from ordinary urban dwellers. A military uniform allowed the raw recruit to rank with the veteran in the eyes of average urbanites. The appearance of manliness and prosperity mattered as much as actually having those qualities.[34] Black military organizations projected images that met their members' deepest needs. Prestige, dress, and bearing of course varied with rank and insignia, but all men in uniform were differentiated from the anonymous souls that walked the streets in ordinary garments, in search of themselves and of companionship.
Sergeant W. H. Carney was a Civil War veteran who fought with the 54th Massachusetts Regiment, which won a distinguished reputation for its valor and steadfastness in battle. In 1867 he received one of the highest tributes that pioneers bestowed upon their heroes. The veteran was appointed Grand Marshall of the Day in the Fifth Anniversary Celebration of the Emancipation Day Proclamation, the most important festivity for far western Afro-Americans in 1867. He was responsible for directing the grand procession that wound its way through the streets. Like a general on the field, he gathered information on the route, conferred with aides, and delivered orders with the punctillio that the occasion demanded.[35]
Veterans and youth won acclaim by participating in the volunteer military organizations that were popular after the Civil War. The first such society in San Francisco was organized in 1866, and after three years the Brannan Guards—named for a California pioneer who helped them purchase uniforms—consisted of forty-five men. They maintained an armory on Pacific Street above Powell, meeting for drill—sometimes in full uniform—every Wednesday evening in 1869.[36]
The Brannan Guards, the Sumner Guard, and the Moore Cadets, a youth organization, acquired and perpetuated the skills and values of soldiers and developed military zeal among Negroes. A veteran who viewed an exhibition by the Black cadets in Dashaway Hall in early 1866 expressed the pride that many Negroes felt as they watched the youngsters' drills: "I never in my life saw a better drilled company than these juvenile soldiers." Black youth thus learned and demonstrated how to present a manly image and combat racial oppression.[37]
The military societies ranked among the most popular voluntary organizations in the late nineteenth century. The zeal with which colored men joined these companies was exhibited in 1874, when a new society was formed. Beverly Dodson was Sergeant-at-Arms, George W. Bell was
secretary, and James H. Riker chaired the meeting called to form the company. "A most spirited election" was held, and three ballots were needed to elect the captain. The men competed for prestigious offices to such an extent that a reporter observed, "It was with some difficulty that the judges could maintain their equilibrium for producing fair play in the matter." Following the election and drill practice, they satisfied their thirst and their desire for camaraderie in nearby saloons, which were reopened especially for the occasion. For many, the urge to join was irresistible: "The number of young men already enlisted is 67," the Elevator commented, "and from the manner in which the 'fever' works, more is [sic] expected."[38]
In the spring of 1872, the first picnic of the season, held at Scheutzen Park in Alameda, permitted a glimpse of Black social life and of the role of the Brannan Guards, who sponsored the affair. The seventh annual target excursion began when about twenty of the Guards marched through San Francisco from their armory to the wharf, where they boarded a transbay steamer. After disembarking and taking a train to the park, the Guards and groups of Black picknickers "indulged in dancing out the programme, whilst others thought that skating, swinging, riding on hobbies, shooting, racing, sparking, wooing, and eating were all the pleasures necessary to give merriment to a Picnic." Fifteen Guards competed for prizes, firing their weapons at the bull's-eye from 153 yards. Ex-Captain John Jones, the previous year's winner of the Company's Gold Medal, presented the prize to Ex-Lieutenant William H. Ferguson. One of the speakers for the occasion, Nathan Porter, complimented the Guards "on their success, and the brilliant efforts and heroic achievements of the Black soldiery during the late war." He hoped the Guards would continue "to bear that independent spirit and action that has characterized it since its organization." Porter "paid a glowing tribute to the departed heroes" of the Civil War, eulogized Abraham Lincoln, and "at the close of his remarks he was heartily cheered with 'a tiger."'[39]
The pioneers' traditional heroes were soldiers, ex-slaves, and antislavery men; as the slave and abolitionist generation passed, American military conflicts created new heroes. A chance to fight in Cuba, in the Philippines, or in Europe engaged the imaginations of Afro-American males and prompted them to join the Black regiments—the famous Ninth and Tenth Cavalry or the Twenty-Fourth and Twenty-Fifth Infantry Divisions.[40] The arrival of the Twenty-Fourth Colored Infantry in April 1899 dramatically depicted the military tradition of Negroes. The several companies stayed at the Presidio and on Alcatraz Island for three months. "Heroes of the Fight at Santiago," as the local press designated them, they reminded city dwellers of the valiant deeds of Black men in Cuba.[41]
As both southerners and northerners became increasingly racist and violent, Black city folk desired tangible evidence of their manhood. These soldiers fit the bill, especially since their sojourn on the coast was "a reward of merit" for valor in the Caribbean. The Call remarked that there were "no braver soldiers there of any color than they, and they won more glory than they could carry home." Despite the hardships, and despite the fact that in Cuba they sustained more illnesses and deaths from yellow fever than white troops, the colored soldiers' valor was unquestioned.[42] Their presence had a tangible impact on the lives of Black westerners they befriended. When they sailed for the Philippines in June 1899, a "big crowd of relatives and friends" saw them off from the Pacific Street wharf. Some 150 volunteers joined the regulars, and another large contingent of recruits sailed with the remaining companies of the Twenty-Fourth on the following day.[43]
Patriotism undoubtedly encouraged many to enlist, on this occasion and on others. But the campaigns in the Pacific, or in Europe during World War I, also provided recruits with opportunities to measure and prove their worth as men—at a time when society afforded few chances for them to do so. Like the military and fraternal societies, the army allowed Afro-American males to band together, to trade knowledge and insights, to develop unity, and to project a heroic image, while the city excluded them from such quasi-military positions as policemen and firemen until the 1920s. Under military discipline, a Black man could both test himself and continue the tactics and skills developed during the Civil War and Indian campaigns. Service encouraged courageous actions that served just as well in fighting prejudice and injustice at home.
The Black men's enthusiasm for order, dignity, and fraternity accounted for the existence of three Masonic lodges in San Francisco alone from the mid-1850s. Hardly any social organization was as popular; if pioneers' obituaries are any indication, nearly every respectable Afro-American male joined a fraternal order, and many belonged to several. These societies have never received the attention they deserve from scholars. Through fraternal orders, many Black men found fellowship, perpetuated values, learned traditional masculine and heroic roles, and projected the sense of dignity and self-worth that often is not seen in Afro-Americans.[44] Male societies provided camaraderie for lonely strangers. Splendid uniforms evidenced worth and stature, while oaths, insignia, signs, and countersigns bound members together. The societies dealt with certain human needs. Single men distant from friends and relatives depended upon their comrades to care for them when ill, and finally, to bury them with the ceremony befitting their rank.
The cultured gentleman was another exemplar of Black ideals. He stemmed from a tradition that originated among European aristocrats,
combining education and erudition with chivalry. In San Francisco particularly, a gentleman thought of himself as cosmopolitan; moreover, he admired martial qualities, thus reflecting contemporary traits. He read the classics, presented a stolid front to the business world, and belonged to a men's club; he exalted fencing or boxing. In the business arena and in sports, he developed desirable qualities. The genteel tradition that urban gentlemen upheld is particulary apparent in photographs, where the most flattering self-conceptions are presented. The subjects wore fine suits, stood straight and stiff, and sported Van Dyke beards and long or short moustaches, depending on the fashion. Facial hair gave men an individual stamp, as head hair was invariably short, unless it could be worn long and wavy. In the photographer's studio, pioneers presented their idealized selves, exhibiting the look of supreme confidence, dandified styles and poses, Masonic pins, and canes which distinguished gentlemen from unfortunate ne'er-do-wells, the unemployed, and common citizens. Equally important, these images contrasted starkly with the stereotypes portrayed in newspaper cartoons and in minstrelsy.[45]
Dark suits and a formal bearing bespoke the gentleman in the same way that military uniforms evidenced manly achievements. For urbane Black males, social skills were a basis of pride and of a cosmopolitan identity. They learned the "Fine Art of Dancing" at Seales Hall in 1865 where, for three dollars per month, they attended the evening school run by Simon P. Clark and Shadrack Howard. Black gentlemen exhibited their competence at the numerous promenade concerts, "hops," and balls. Women as well as men learned the science of "Vocal Music"; as enthusiastic singers or as appreciative listeners, Black residents enjoyed the choral jubilees and grand operatic concerts that were popular in the nineteenth century. In 1872 they heard a choir of two hundred vocalists, an orchestra, and a military band execute the American, English, French, and German national anthems and selections from European composers in Pacific Hall. They attended the exhibit of the Black sculptress, Edmonia Lewis, who visited the city in 1873, and participated in amateur dramatic productions. The latter allowed them to assume the roles of stage heroes and to display the poise, diction, and presence of mind valuable for success in a competitive city. Philip A. Bell's Shakespearean readings and William Blake's musical presentations have been noted. In 1904, J. C. Rivers, an exslave who was active in the Afro-American League, formed a dramatic company named after Charles H. Tinsley, who was a bellman, butler, and waiter.[46]
Black gentlemen also cultivated and perpetuated knowledge of Greek, Latin, and English authors, and valued the parliamentary and oratorical skills of the European tradition. The list of officers of the San Francisco
Literary Institute, formed to discuss and disseminate knowledge, read like a Who's Who of colored urbanites in 1862. The president, James Madison Bell, was a poet and plasterer; other officers included James R. Starkey, Philip A. Bell, James E. Brown, and William H. Blake—all active leaders in the social, cultural, and political affairs of the Bay Area. Such men emulated the leading actors of classical European literature and the politicians of England and the United States when they held meetings or discussion groups. Their erudite speakers quoted Solon and d'Alembert. They attended lectures on the political rights of Blacks, the condition of freedmen, and such subjects as "The Nation concedes to the Colored Race the right to be Men." They believed that an educated and informed populace was a prerequisite for equality and a sense of manhood.[47]
While such behavior may strike modern readers as peculiar, few Americans questioned these values until the twentieth century. The success of Blacks (or of any other race) was believed to depend upon the attainment of standards considered the goal of civilized man. If not everyone could quote the classics, all could at least develop knowledge of the world and acquire respect for the desired way of life for all humanity. Reading, reflection, and knowledge of the world—or at least of the U.S. and Europe-were as essential to refined urbanities as marksmanship was to soldiers. Leading residents used words in editorials, petitions, and orations much as soldiers used bullets. They warred against discrimination, vice, and immorality—those practices considered to be at odds with a civilized condition. Black city folk developed skills needed to project refined images in public meetings and councils of the race. They sought to attain heroic stature in public forums and on the dance floor, to reveal knowledge and skills that distinguished them from ordinary citizens.[48]
Blacks frequently wrote about the importance of "good manners"—the standards that prevented one from offending refined sensibilities. Manners were particularly important in San Francisco, because proper behavior increased the likelihood of acceptability in a city where individuals were often unsure of their status. Misunderstandings could offend sensibilities or even provoke physical violence; "no man or woman can mingle in polite society without the polish of refinement." The code of manners prevented, or at least lessened, social friction, and was in theory accessible to mechanics as well as gentlemen.[49]
Rather than proving effeteness, good manners and gentility enabled a humble resident to associate confidently with leading citizens. A measure of democracy characterized relations among urbanites as leading San Franciscans, Palace Hotel waiters, members of gentlemen's clubs, and prize fighters mingled as equals. "Unruly elements" and "hoodlums" who mixed with well-mannered city dwellers where also held to these standards.
When white men broke the rules of the Somerset Social Club entertainment by smoking cigars, they were rebuked by the manager of the affair. The Elevator , in reporting the difficulty, suggested that white men should not be admitted unless a member of the club spoke for their good behavior. Many leading Blacks would have concurred with the Sentinel 's contention that "refinement is one of the many essentials of gentility," a trait that "may be very easily acquired," even by those not born with it. The best way to learn it was through "cultivation of refined people."[50]
In nineteenth-century San Francisco, the gentlemen's code permitted Afro-American males to attain heroic stature and to rank with the most respected city folk. A Black boxer could win not only fame and money, but also the respect and friendship of residents who valued manners and muscle more than color. Because he mixed "with men of the world," Peter Jackson possessed "a polished manner" that, with his fighting prowess, won the respect of the California Athletic Club and many San Franciscans. He was the first of a new kind of hero that mixed with the sporting crowd but exhibited the gentility of refined residents.[51]
With increased urbanization and leisure time, Americans and Europeans devoted themselves to new kinds of recreation. Organized sports gained in popularity at the end of the century. Among the masses of new urban residents, athletics became the rage for spectators and prospective sportsmen. Clubs were formed to foster athletic ideals, aid sportsmen, teach discipline, and mold "character."
Champions of "the manly art," boxing, were models of health and masculinity during the late nineteenth century. After John L. Sullivan, boxers often displayed genteel manners, proving that they could be refined as well as combative. They became the idols of the sporting crowd, and leisured citizens appreciated their skills and endurance. Champions were monuments to physical conditioning, strength, and agility at a time when the nation seemed to value mechanical and literary skills more than brawn. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, champion boxers found the Bay Area congenial, because its residents delighted in boxing exhibitions and had the money to support fighters. Their every physical dimension was measured, commented on, and compared with those of other fighters.[52]
Peter Jackson, a West Indian, became a boxer in Australia, won the heavyweight championships of the British Empire and, by rights, of the United States (John L. Sullivan refused to fight him). In 1894, the Call publicized Jackson's measurements and manners so he could serve as a model for San Franciscans. The journal noted that his sixteen and three-quarter inch neck, thirty-nine inch chest, and thirteen (left) and twelve and one-half (right) inch biceps helped produce "one of the most finished
boxers that ever stepped into the ring." Standing six feet and one-half inch and weighing two hundred and ten pounds, he was a rather large man for that time and for that matter a good sized heavyweight for the twentieth century. "The symmetrical body, lithe and sinewy muscles, carried about on a pair of spry, active legs, used to be the delight of the lovers of the pugilistic sport," the Call noted at the end of Jackson's career.[53]
Such fighters as Peter Jackson or Jack Johnson (or the white champion, "Gentlemen Jim" Corbett) represented a new type of nineteenth-century urban man. They combined the code of the gentleman with a measure of fine-tuned brawn and violence. With their popularity and their entourages, the champions ranked with European royalty. Moreover, they appealed to city folk, who delighted in physical encounters but, concerned with civilized standards, also desired a scientific exhibition. Boxers frequently personified the scientific style and degree of sportsmanship thought consonant with civilized life.[54]
Athletes were popular because their skills allowed them to excell, to surpass opponents in exhibitions, and to live independently. A few years before the earthquake, Jack Johnson was the hero of Oakland's Black citizens. The Chronicle observed he had "struck a congenial atmosphere in West Oakland, where his race abounds and [he] has been crowned king of them all." Moreover, "the colored population of all ages has thronged his quarters, until there was scarcely room left for him to work." The heroes were followed by a string of young aspirants. In June 1900, Young Peter Jackson, a Black fighter who possibly adopted the name of his hero, returned to San Francisco from Denver "bedecked in diamonds" that proclaimed recent successes. He had left the Bay city an unknown two years prior, but since then had lost only one bout-a disputed one at that.[55]
In an age of monopolistic enterprise, a champion athlete or leading entertainer could live in the style of the plutocrat. As various "sports" became known as scientific players and refined men, gentlemen took interest in athletics. Refined Bay Area citizens followed the sporting set, attended and gambled on boxing matches and horse races, and admired champions. Men of "culture" and "breeding" found a rough but pleasing sort of fraternity in the sporting crowd, much as they enjoyed the camaraderie of the gentlemen's club with their peers. Like men of humble origins, gentlemen exulted over athletes' muscle and nerve (just as Theodore Roosevelt or Jack London adored the strenuous life). They took pride in the fact that there was no necessary contradiction between a gentleman and a sportsman, even though some guardians of traditional culture thought otherwise. The male San Franciscan admired Peter Jackson's sheer stamina when he fought Jim Corbett for sixty-one rounds to a draw in 1891. He also admired the worldly manner that Jackson
acquired through association, his "quick wit," and his skill as a "clever, well-informed conversationalist."[56]
In accordance with the gentleman's tradition, Jackson never belittled an opponent; nor would he discuss his own prowess. After retirement and numerous heavy drinking bouts that possibly hastened his early death, Jackson staged a comeback in early 1898. Though his drinking lost him popularity among some followers, and though they ridiculed the comeback of the Black athlete who found the racism of American boxers an unconquerable opponent, he refused to lambast his critics. "Until I am whipped my wish is that the sporting people of this city will refrain from cauterizing me because I may have not lived an abstemious life." Jackson's eloquence testified to the existence of gentlemanly ideals in fight circles, where previously champions had gained a reputation for little more than brutality and coarse language.[57]
San Francisco, by the way, was the western hub of the sporting world, and from the rise of Corbett in the 1890s to that of Jack Johnson shortly after the earthquake, it contributed more boxing winners than any other city. Aside from civic pride, the desire for money and love of competition caused northern Californians to follow prize fights, horse races, and other contests with the same devotion they paid to stock prices. The need to challenge opponents also promoted participation in different sports.
The competition of the business arena and the heroism of the battlefield merged in sports, which became a major business enterprise in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Urban dwellers emulated their heroes. For Black city folk in the late nineteenth century, sports permitted a champion like Jack Johnson to defeat the "white hopes" put forth by a racist society. Black winners in sports were kings among a people denied opportunities in business and politics. Physical competition could enable Blacks to stand out, to win money, and to attract adulators. When Jack Johnson won the heavyweight championship of the world in 1910, he proved that white men were not invincible. What was true in the ring might also hold in economic and political affairs. His victory presaged the gains for Blacks as well as the losses for whites that the twentieth century held in store.[58]
Whatever its source, an urban identity gave Blacks a perspective on racism. As the Pacific Appeal defined it in 1863, racism was "simply a mental hallucination, without reason or common sense," the "culmination of the chivalry sentimentalism engendered by the hell-born demon of slavery in the matrix of distorted minds."[59]
This sophisticated view indicates the frame of mind that enabled Blacks to survive in San Francisco. Slave heroes and antislavery speakers convinced them that chattel slaves were men capable of valorous action.
Black soldiers were gallant fighters who competed with white men as equals, engaged in life-and-death struggles, and killed their enemy on battlefields in the south and in Europe. Black champion boxers, like Black soldiers, were proof that whites could be defeated, and suggested that white domination could be brought to an end by the valorous efforts of Negroes. Black fighters who gained renown had qualities thought to be exclusive to whites. Black urbanites who won in games of chance and who developed oratorical skills offered evidence that Blacks deserved the civil and social rights accorded white males.
Negro pioneers sought and attained manhood through roles as athletes, urbane gentlemen, hoodlums, soldiers, fraternal officers, and eloquent orators; this reflected the opportunities of the urban world. Competition for fame and fortune was exacerbated by the congregation of large numbers of womenless men in a region fabled for its opportunities. Besides assuming new roles and proving their possession of manly attributes, Blacks perpetuated these values to prepare their youth for life in a racist society.
Negro city folk depended upon parades and military drills, in addition to barroom brawls, to teach each other how to conduct themselves, to instill discipline, and to foster martial values. To instruct youths, they held celebrations, pageants, and amateur stage productions, and related their exploits of the early years. Newspaper editors extolled the virtues of Afro-San Franciscans as they related tales of the underground railroad or the deeds of Frederick Douglass and Nat Turner. By emulating their heroes, the Black urbanites ranked with other residents, and contradicted monochrome portraits of Blacks as "Samboes" and "Uncle Toms."[60]
The city created many diverse roles that afforded opportunities for Blacks in search of a place to realize their ambitions. Bay Area Blacks were among the first Americans to experience this diversification; their creativity and organizational skills distinguished them both from other city dwellers and from inhabitants of rural areas. Passing as white or Spanish also gave Afro-Americans a sense of success. Passing not only made possible a job or access to housing or public accommodations, it also proved that Blacks could shed their racial identity, which was considered the antithesis of being cosmopolitan. The desire to escape not so much the race as the injustices inflicted on the race made Negroes ambivalent. Their churches, Masonic orders, and celebrations promoted race pride, but their desire to be accepted as soldiers, gentlemen, refined ball-goers, or "sports" were important non-racial poles. Analysis of these citified aspects of Black identity, which have not been fully appreciated, should clarify our understanding of how racial and non-racial aspirations influence Black urban life.
The reliance on passing indicates how far manners and deportment
alone could carry Afro-Americans. Passing seems to have been practiced most frequently by people looking for work, indicating that being a heroic ex-slave or ex-soldier was not highly valued in the marketplace. That well-mannered Afro-Americans were subjected to racial prejudice shows that proper connections were valuable along with credentials as a cosmopolite or veteran.
Their high regard for European, elitist culture prevented Black San Franciscans from critically evaluating the Afro-American economic condition. Their meager numbers and cultural attainments were no match for the rise of Jim Crow. Nor did their proper manners matter to the thousands of Negroes who settled in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles around World War I. Concern for genteel manners, refinement, and certain styles of entertainment encouraged Black urbanites to lavish money on expensive clothes and masquerade balls. This served only to divert money from business enterprises and to emphasize the distance between the prosperous citizens and the majority of Blacks.
The pioneers' heroes and elitist values indicate that nineteenth-century Black urban culture differed from that of the twentieth-century ghettos. The emergence of their own distinctive urban culture awaited the mass migration of the 1940s, when large numbers of southern-born Negroes brought uniquely Afro-American values to the Bay Area. Because they were often laborers or skilled workers, the newcomers of the Second World War years also possessed different kinds of skills. But before this development, early Bay Area residents experienced some success; and while they received little attention, they ranked with the pioneers who won praise for their roles in western settlement and urban life.