"BLACK AND BLUE," Review by Nell Irvin Painter, in The Nation, 266:17, 11 May 1998, pp. 36-38.  
        Reproduced with permission of The Nation. 
       TROUBLE IN MIND: Black Southerners in the Age 
        of Jim Crow.  
        By Leon F. Litwack.  
        Knopf. 599 pp. $35.  
      In these shortsighted, meanspirited, anti-affirmative 
        action times, Leon Litwack proffers a salutary historical perspective 
        on U.S. race relations. As some voters insist that Congressional districts, 
        college admissions and employment must be decided without taking race 
        into account, Litwack publishes a book packed with all-pervasive racial 
        oppression ("Jim Crow") whose consequences endure. Would 
        that everyone in California and Texas, at the very least, would read his 
        introduction: 
       
        This is no easy history to assimilate. It is the story 
          of a people denied the basic rights of citizenship in the land of their 
          birth, yet fully expected to display as much patriotism as their white 
          brethren, who enjoyed the full exercise of such rights. It is the story 
          of a people stamped as inferior, based on the idea of race, yet fully 
          expected to provide the basic labor of the South even as they complied 
          with the perverse etiquette of Jim Crow.  
       
      Segregation in the South--actually, segregation 
        in the North, too--bears directly on our own times. During the 
        late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when Southern apartheid 
        was inflicted on four generations, 90 percent of African Americans lived 
        in the South. Millions of them are still alive, the parents, grandparents 
        and great-grandparents of today's black youth. Trouble in Mind 
        explores the depths of unrelenting white supremacy-between the end 
        of Reconstruction and the Great Migration to the North during the First 
        World War--whose devastation affected all black American lives. 
       
      The soul-killing persecution of this time destroyed 
        black bodies, minds and fortunes. It's well worth remembering that 
        Jim Crow flourished during the very time that millions of Europeans entered 
        the United States. A deeply racialized U.S. society transformed ignorant 
        and impoverished immigrants from southern and eastern Europe into white 
        people. And as whites, European newcomers enjoyed access to the American 
        transition belt of upward economic mobility. As Litwack explains: 
       
      
        To suggest that [black Southemers'] story 
          is simply another version of the classic straggle of all immigrant groups--Irish, 
          Italians, Germans, Slavs, and Jews, for example--ignores the 
          distinctiveness of the black experience, the unique and overwhelming 
          obstacles blacks faced, and the indignities they were forced to endure. 
         
       
      Education and hard work could make a Jewish immigrant middle 
        class; education and hard work could get a black man lynched, like prosperous 
        Anthony Crawford of Abbeville, South Carolina-framed, jailed, beaten, 
        mutilated, dragged through the streets and shot to pieces in 1916.  
      Litwack organizes Trouble in Mind according to a 
        subtle chronology whose only great event is the Spanish-American War 
        of 1898, during which black Southerners served in a Jim Crow Army in the 
        Philippines while at home white mobs slaughtered their neighbors. Otherwise, 
        dates play a minor role in eight chapters with evangelical and bluesy 
        titles ("Baptisms," "Lessons," "Working," 
        "White Folks: Scriptures," "White Folks: Acts," 
        "Hellhounds," "Enduring," "Crossroads"), 
        as Litwack traces the depredations of hardening racial oppression---crops 
        expropriated, labor shortchanged, women assaulted, debt tramped up, convicts 
        leased and worked to death, schooling curtailed, justice denied.  
      Concentrating on ordinary rural people without access to 
        formal education or political power, Litwack recounts the afflictions 
        of four overlapping post-Civil War generations. The first were former 
        slaves, impoverished men and women who had endured the trauma of bondage 
        through servile stratagems. To their descendants they could pass on canny 
        techniques for survival, but a lifetime of unpaid labor and no education 
        blighted their own fortunes.  
      An enterprising second generation, freeborn children of 
        former slaves, marked their distance from their parents' deference 
        to whites. These young people aimed to succeed, as in the case of ambitious 
        Charlie Holcombe of Johnston County, North Carolina. But like many of 
        his peers, Holcombe was defeated by the degradation and demands of white 
        supremacy. For attacking a cheating landlord, he labored for a year on 
        a chain gang. His punishment for striking a white man could have been 
        far more severe, but even so, it mined his tobacco crop and landed him 
        deeply in debt. Holcombe never recovered from the setback, for, as Litwack 
        quotes him, "Dey was always sumpthin' come along and knocked 
        de props from under my plans."  
      Despite their own defeats, parents in Holcombe's generation 
        envisioned fuller lives for their children, who might acquire skills beyond 
        anything in the experience of their parents and grandparents. The family 
        scrimped to educate son Willie through high school and North Carolina 
        Agricultural and Technical College. Although (or perhaps because) 
        college educated, Willie Holcombe encountered nothing but obstacles back 
        home in Johnston County. Depressed and alcoholic, he met his death in 
        a tobacco warehouse at the hands of several white men. Litwack quotes 
        the father in his grief: "For a long time atter dat I couldn't 
        seem to git goin', and dey was a big chunk in de bottom o' my 
        stummick dat jist wouldn't go away."  
      Trouble in Mind culminates in the manly, unintimidated, 
        fourth, "New Negro" generation of the early twentieth century, 
        which rejects the accommodation of earlier generations epitomized by Booker 
        T. Washington (who died in 1915). New Negroes stand tall, fight 
        back and quit the bloody-minded South. By no means a promised land, 
        the North at least offers escape from the blighting Jim Crow South. And 
        by the First World War era, young black people are prepared to seize their 
        new opportunities.  
      Finding truth in the details, Litwack deftly captures the 
        tragedy of racial oppression during the age of segregation. Black Southerners 
        of all socioeconomic strata speak through these pages, for Litwack generously 
        quotes both the schooled (in standard English) and unschooled 
        (in quaint Southern dialect) as they respond to complete disempowerment. 
        Most affecting are the blues lyrics, folk ditties and especially the poignant, 
        idiosyncratic and eloquent insights of ordinary people. The book's 
        title comes, of course, from folk lyrics:  
       Trouble in mind, I'm blue, 
        But I won't be blue always, 
        For the sun goin' shine in my back door 
             some-day. 
        Trouble in mind, that's true, 
        I have almost lost my mind; 
        Life ain't worth livin'--feel like I could 
              die. 
        I'm gonn lay my head on some lonesome 
             railroad line, 
        Let the two nineteen train ease my 
             troubled mind.  
      A paean to the creativity of rural Southern blacks, Trouble 
        in Mind celebrates the spirit of a people who, although pressed down 
        by the myriad forces of white supremacy, not only survive but also preserve 
        the genius of their human spirit.  
      Like other Americans, black Southerners strive for success, 
        only to discover that wealth, education and abiding by the law serve for 
        naught in a black skin--and might well prove hazardous. Rich black 
        men learn through murderous violence that ragsto-riches is not meant 
        for Negroes. For them, the South proposes only rags and more rags, or 
        else wealth expropriated and prosperous men lynched. The discovery that 
        black success rather than black failure--black industry rather 
        than black improvidence--most enraged white Southerners in the 
        age of segregation will doubtless surprise readers unfamiliar with recent 
        Southern historiography. Unless they already know the work of Glenda Gilmore, 
        Tera Hunter, Jane Dailey and Earl Lewis, readers will find this fury against 
        success the most chilling aspect of Trouble in Mind.  
      But Litwack depicts white rage accurately, filling this 
        book with blood. He describes the gory details of the lynching of Sam 
        Hose in rural Georgia in 1899. Hose, accused of rape and murder of a white 
        couple, is stripped, burned on a pyre and mutilated. Two thousand--how 
        shall ! say-fans? watched as his fingers, ears and genitals were 
        severed and the skin peeled off his face. W. E. B. Du Bols, T. Thomas 
        Fortune, Addie and William Hunton and, most spectacularly, Robert Charles 
        renounce their effort of surviving in the South. Three of the educated 
        four migrate north (Fortune had already left Florida for New York 
        City), but Charles, a New Orleans New Negro of the laboring class, 
        broods over the Hose lynching, then defends himself against a white mob 
        by shooting twenty-seven, killing seven, of whom four are police officers. 
       
      Litwack exaggerates nothing. Yet white supremacy's 
        degree of savagery still seems unfathomable in a self-styled democracy. 
        One comes away wondering how black victims survived their ordeal and preserved 
        any measure of sanity. For that matter, one questions the mental health 
        of their white tormentors. Litwack answers neither query, for his whites 
        pay no price for their viciousness, and black people have virtually no 
        life beyond the reach of white supremacy.  
      Ironically, perhaps, the political point of Trouble 
        in Mind--the evils of more than a half-century of Jim 
        Crow---weakens it as a work of history. Had this book appeared 
        soon after Litwack's 1979 Been in the Storm So Long: The Aftermath 
        of Slavery, it would have taught all but specialized readers valuable 
        lessons in Southern history. But in the two decades since publication 
        of that volume, historians have brought us to question the basic premises 
        of this new publication, subtitled "Black Southerners in the Age 
        of Jim Crow," which concentrates on what white people did to blacks. 
        Litwack implies that African-American institutions function merely 
        in response to white oppression, as though blacks had no existence beyond 
        their connection with whites--black Southerners as victims rather 
        than black Southerners as people. Today this kind of writing is known 
        as race relations, not African-American history.  
      For all its picturesque appeal, Trouble in Mind 
        is stale. Some nuanced language and a plethora of black and white witnesses 
        cannot counteract the impression .of a white monolith, "the white 
        South," beating up on a black monolith, "the Negro." Class 
        and gender and shade of color figure only in a paragraph here and there. 
       
      In 1979 Litwack won a Pulitzer for Been in the Storm 
        So Long, an intricate, vivid mosaic of Emancipation as experienced 
        on both sides of the color line. Despite my reservations, I expect Trouble 
        in Mind to be similarly rewarded. The white-over-black approach 
        will probably strike prize committees as well balanced, because bad white 
        Southerners, present on every page, are as much the subject as blacks. 
        As a symbol, white Southerners are easy to hate, but for many readers, 
        whites must play a central role for history to be recognizable as American. 
       
      Nell Irvin Painter, author of Sojourner Truth, A Life, 
        A Symbol (Norton), teaches at Princeton.  
Return to top               Return to Reviews   |