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Sunday,
October 17, 2010
A Page From Harrisburg History
My article below appeared in The Patriot-News' Opinion pages on October
17, 2010.
Harrisburg’s sesquicentennial year as a city will close in a few
weeks with a final fanfare centering on the one hundred and forty-fifth
anniversary of the Grand Review of Colored Troops. The original event,
which took place in November 1865, featured a parade by African American
troops returning home following the Civil War. Racism had denied these
troops a spot in the official Grand Review in Washington, DC that May,
which was staged to celebrate the Union victory. At the behest of the
Garnet Equal Rights League of Harrisburg, however, these slighted men
were given their due recognition in the capital of the Keystone State,
which offered “a Complimentary Reception, a Free Dinner, and an
Oration Welcome.”
Realizing that such
an event was likely to be ignored by most of the state and city’s white residents, the African American organizers
used word of mouth, and advertised in various African American publications,
urging “the colored people of Pennsylvania” to “crowd
Harrisburg, and give your brothers in blue a thrilling welcome.” Special
half-price excursion rates were arranged with agents of the Cumberland
Valley, the Philadelphia and Reading, the Northern Central, and the Pennsylvania
Central railroads, in hopes of drawing crowds that would send “thundering
echoes” of cheering support to the returning soldiers. The grassroots
effort worked magnificently, and in mid-November, the black residents
of the City of Harrisburg, along with hundreds of visitors, paid homage
to black veterans with a parade, speeches, and a free dinner at the Soldier’s
Rest.
This was not the
first time that Harrisburg’s African American
community had come together during a time of need. Historically, blacks
in Harrisburg have a strong tradition of opening their doors to fighters
in the war on inequality, and of pulling together to fight the ravaging
brutalities of hatred and ignorance. An early example occurred in April
1825, when “a great number of blacks” gathered outside of
the courthouse on Market Street to demonstrate against the recapture
of a fugitive slave, whose hearing was being conducted inside. Although
they did not succeed in gaining freedom for the captured slaves, their
sheer numbers and aggressive behavior clearly intimidated the slave hunters
and set a precedent for future collective action.
Over the course of
the next forty years, Harrisburg’s African
American residents weathered numerous social, economic, and political
storms through the effective employment of mutual aid and self-help.
A crisis of will occurred in 1859, however, that threatened to tear the
black community apart. For several years, fugitive slaves and newly-freed
blacks had been arriving in town in large numbers. Although local black
residents tried to absorb and accommodate these newcomers, a shortage
of good housing and employment threatened to overwhelm this traditionally
tight-knit community.
A vital pressure
release had been lost in 1857 with the purchase of the land north of
Tanner’s Alley by developer William Verbeke.
No longer could new arrivals take up a squatter’s residence on
the vacant land next to the burgeoning black neighborhood. The result,
by 1859, was a neighborhood constrained on all sides and bursting at
the seams. In addition, Harrisburg’s longtime black residents found
it difficult to bond with the new, unskilled, illiterate refugees from
the South. For the first time, Harrisburg’s African American community
found itself divided into two competing camps, with little in common.
The rift came at a bad time, as slave catchers were again becoming more
aggressive. Now more than ever, a cohesive community was vital for everyone’s
survival.
In April 1859, four slave catchers cornered Daniel Dangerfield in one
of the market sheds on the square. With Colt revolvers drawn against
the gathering crowd, they hustled their captive off to the Pennsylvania
Railroad Station, where they took the train to Philadelphia for his hearing.
Although the case received much attention in the newspapers, the outlook
appeared grim for Dangerfield. It was at that point that Carlisle native
and abolitionist J. Miller McKim sent an urgent telegram to Harrisburg
seeking help. Harrisburg responded.
In the late afternoon
of the second day of the hearing, five African American men from Harrisburg
pushed their way through the hostile white
crowd that surrounded the hearing room. Leading the way was sixty-six-year-old
William Jones, one of the town’s most respected African American
citizens. Testimony and cross-examination lasted for more than three
hours, with Jones telling how Daniel Dangerfield has helped him dig the
cellar of his rooming house on West Alley in 1853. Prosecutors attempted
to confuse Jones with a battery of detailed questions, but the old man’s
memory proved faultless. Ultimately, Dangerfield was freed.
William Jones had
secured the freedom of Daniel Dangerfield, but more importantly, he
had provided the foundation upon which Harrisburg’s
African American community would again make itself whole. He had proved
the power of African American memory and legacy--an idea which was seized
upon the following August by Jacob C. White, Jr., in a speech before
an assembled African American crowd in a local picnic grove. Enslaved,
hunted, disenfranchised, proscribed, and segregated by their white neighbors,
and now declared non-citizens by the highest court in the land, African
Americans from North and South had a common struggle, a common heritage,
and a legacy of mutual aid, according to White. That was the motive that
drove William Jones to travel hours to testify for a man before a hostile
court, and that was the motive that would enable Harrisburg’s African
American community to survive the coming years of civil war.
During this Sesquicentennial
year, Harrisburg is again facing a crisis of will. Debt and internal
squabbling threaten to undermine all aspects
of city operations. Harrisburg’s African American community, in
particular, can draw from a rich heritage of mutual aid and dozens of
inspiring, even heroic episodes. In decades past, Harrisburg blacks have
surmounted and conquered obstacles of staggering magnitude. Yet much
of this noble legacy has escaped the history books. Residents, estranged
from their historical roots, must feel like Dunne’s fictional Mr.
Dooley, who lamented “I know histhry isn't thrue, Hinnessey, because
it ain't like what I see ivery day in Halstead Street.” If Harrisburg
is to remain a vibrant community, it is vital that residents reestablish
their historical memory. Whether black or white, it is a mutual history,
and one of which all can be justly proud.
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